Winning Can Be a Very Lonely Thing

(Disclaimer: While the seed of this entry is a real situation, the conclusions are general, and not specific to that situation or the wonderful people involved.)

I'm not a big sports fan. I don't hate sports—I like to play intramural sports and admire the commitment made by world class athletes—but I'm just not that into them, and can't imagine sitting down on a regular basis to watch professional athletes do their thing. When the Olympics comes around, I might tune infor an event or two, but really, sports isn't that important to me.

I don't think there's anyone wrong with being a sports fan, mind—some of my best friends are sports fans—just saying that for me, sports aren't as important as, say, reading a good book or seeing a new play. I'm entitled to my own tastes...I don't insist that others share mine, and I appreciate it when others don't insist I share theirs.

What brought this to mind was a recent situation where an argument was brewing. In this argument, I held one point of view while others involved held a differing viewpoint. I'm good with rhetoric—I know how to argue—but once everyone aired their perspectives and I saw that a win was unlikely (and more, unproductive), I made a conscious decision to just stop; to concede the argument rather than go for the win. I decided that "winning" wasn't worth what it would probably cost.

I do that a lot, actually. I count the cost of winning and decide that it just isn't worth it. I don't seem to have much of the drive to win that is so common in our culture. Maybe it's in part because I'm not a sports fan.

The sports culture in the U.S. seems to foster a fierce competitive spirit. It isn't a bad thing—it's often a very good thing, providing an impetus for achievement—but it can have negative consequences. We've all heard stories about the Little League coaches (or parents) who get so caught up in competitive fervor that they lose sight of the rest of the story: things like sportsmanship and the character-building possibilities widely touted as a benefit of athletic competition. And most of us adults have at one time or another encountered other adults who "go for the throat," willing to do whatever it takes to win.

My high school athletic career was as a swimmer. Swimming is the red-headed stepchild of high school athletics, and while it's a competitive and scored as a team sport, really it's individual and swimmers compete first and foremost against themselves and the clock. It isn't a sport that fosters the kind of fervor and passion found in soccer or basketball or football. Swimmers swim alone (even in relay events, each swimmer swims her or his own leg), and they often can't see their opponents at all. Your best may not be enough to win, but if you don't swim your best you've already lost the most important competition you face.

I'm sometimes mocked because I don't have much of that drive to defeat others. Some see it as a weakness, and they are of course entitled to their opinion. I see it as a peculiar strength. The person I must first master is myself, and that is the labor of a lifetime. I find no nobility in beating down another, even (maybe especially) if I'm right; I'd rather win against my baser instincts than let them drive me to trample another.

I'm the last choice for the general of an army or the admiral of a fleet. I'm the last choice for the captain of a rugby team or union negotiator. I'm the last choice if aggression is what's needed. That's not who I am.

Although I'm not aggressive, I'm not weak, either. I am strong on defense, I am strong on commitment, I am strong on forgiveness, I am strong on relationship.

My sense of self and sense of self-worth are not determined by whether or not I win or lose, whether or not I defeat (or denigrate, or humiliate) others. My sense of self and sense of self-worth are determined by how well I collaborate, how well I compromise, how well I support others.

Winning can be a very lonely thing, and I'm lonely enough, thank you very much. If winning is important to you, then you win. If defeating me is important to you, I concede the battle. I don't want to be in the battle. I don't want to fight. So mostly, I don't.

Mostly, I don't.