"Win as if you were used to it...

...lose as if you you enjoyed it for a change."
-Ralph Waldo Emerson


Husband's team lost (by two points) in the tournament tonight. Husband is super bummed.

I might even say that Husband is being a sore loser.

After listening to him pout for a bit when he came home after the game, I decided to help him brighten his mood. "So!" I said cheerfully. "What's next?"

"The stupid end of the season party next weekend, where we celebrate our big loss," Husband grumbled. "It just sucks, you know, when you know your team is the best and then you lose."

I had to bite my tongue. It isn't because I don't believe Husband's team is (was?) the best- they're a great team. Husband is a great coach. It's just that I've never been a big believer in such definitive definitions of "winners" and "losers".

Oh yes, I'm one of those annoying people. Husband is not. He wins things, he only does things that produces winners and winning, and so he can't even comprehend the idea of losing. It doesn't even fit into his realm of thinking. Losing is not in his lingo. There is no such thing as second best- you are either THE BEST or THE WINNER and nothing else.

I have a different perspective on it, of course. I played basketball for two years, when I was in the fourth and fifth grade. We were awful. We didn't win a single game, that is how awful we were. I remember trying to frantically dribble the basketball with my hot pink Barbie press on nails, my hot pink and neon green biker shorts sticking to my legs, and my crunchy poodle-permed hair held back with a yellow scrunchy as I scampered down the court.

I didn't make a single basket my first year. The second year I made one. And I'm pretty sure it was by complete accident, as I blindly flung the ball in the air in a panic as a girl twice my size tried to shove me to the ground and sit on me. For whatever reason, my wild-eyed flinging worked, and the ball sunk with a swish right into the basket.

I, however, was completely traumatized and made a mental note to never make a basket ever again for fear of more big girls coming after me. Done and done.

I don't have a single competitive bone in my body. It is not something that I am proud of; but I believe that you're either born with that competitive streak or you're not. You either have it or you don't. I was not born having it.

I also was not born having any sort of athletic prowess or hand-eye coordination. Yes, I'm the girl you don't want on your team. I am being completely honest here- I will likely hand the ball to the opponent and run screaming in the other direction. If I can even catch the ball to begin with, that is, considering I typically catch it with the back of my head.

(I am now having mental flashbacks to my dad standing on the sidelines saying, "Chloeee! You're supposed to use your hands to catch the ball! Not your head! Use your hands! YOUR HANDS!!")

So! Anyway, back to my point here- I was on a team of basketball playing losers. We were losers! You couldn't get any more loserish than us. But that was okay! I turned out just fine! Right? RIGHT!

Oh hush.

I told Husband that I could come speak to his team of fifth grade boys at their party, you know, to give them a pep talk about how winning isn't everything. It's okay to lose sometimes. Sometimes there's more important things in life, like keeping your hot pink Barbie press on nails on your fingers. Or keeping your internal organs functioning properly by not allowing heavy girls on the opposing team to knock you over and sit on them.

He politely declined.

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