Win....Sometimes

 Hello loyal readers,

Row2K posted this today, photographs of disappointment. Boy, haven't we all been there? I have. I was hoping for more photos than the three that were featured. It's not that I like to revel in someone's disappointment, but because I find that the truth about sports and the deepest, longest lasting lessons are learned there in the aftermath. You discover how bitter, and hollow you can feel, how all the talk about, "It doesn't matter if you win or lose, it's how you play the game" was said by someone who'd never played and lost a single game in their lives, and that 24-hours afterward, the defeat is somehow more palpable than it is palatable. Defeat is also the reminder that the sun will rise, the Earth will turn, and you will be able to move on. Eventually.

Now, every coach and administrator, myself included, will tell you that winning and losing is for the athletes. Championships won and lost are for them, not you. And we do believe that. I won my last competitive medal in 2004 on Lake Stevens, and I haven't earned a single one since. But with that being said, anyone who tells you that a championship doesn't mean anything is also lying. If wins and championships meant nothing, then we wouldn't push so hard, and demand so much.

But it's for the athletes, you hear coaches say. I push for them. 

You push for them, but also for yourself. An excellent coach once said that you have to meet your team where they are, and if they don't care too much, or try too hard, you lose. A lot. And that is true. But you also don't keep those athletes around. They either don't make it to the field, or they are cut and replaced with hungrier, more driven athletes. 

So it's a balancing act. And in my mind it does not matter whether it's juniors or college or senior teams, you still drive hard, and push hard. You might be doing it for them, but there is an element of your competitiveness in that push. And that's ok. You would not be a coach if you weren't competitive. There are plenty of youth rec. leagues out there that need managers who can make sure that everyone is safe, and having fun, and ensuring that snacks are brought and distributed fairly. 

There's nothing wrong with that. My first coaching job, ever, was coaching kick & chase in high school. It was about having fun, and if two kids decided that they'd rather shuffle around, and leave their position, then they did. It wasn't about wins, or losses then, it was about fun. 

I suppose now could be the time that I go into whether running up the score is a real thing or not - spoiler, at a certain point in youth sports, it ceases to be a thing, and it absolutely 100 percent does not exist in high school sports or beyond - but that's another post.

Bitter defeats. Losses that stick with you. We all have a few of those. I can recall a night back in the fall of 1999 when my soccer team tied a game 1-1 to our bitter rival. We led for 90' of regulation, and then because of some very shady officiating - the official was the father of two kids playing on the other team, an absolute no no - they were allowed to take the game beyond the official time and five minutes into "overtime" they tied the score. That took away our shot at winning the league. Had we won, we'd have won the league, but the tie knocked us back. 

It's the only time in my career that I've cried after a game. The bus ride was dead quiet. Even the JV team stayed quiet on the ride. No one said a single word. 

That's life unfortunately, and the way sports go. I can't speculate what might have happened had we gotten that game, and the coach in me says that we had two chances to sew up the league title weeks prior but tied two games 0-0 to teams we should have easily beaten. 

It's those moments that make sport gut wrenching, but also the best drama, something that cannot be replicated by 10000 of the worlds greatest writers. It's organic, and dynamic, and things change on the fly. The best teams don't always win. The craziest things do happen. 

Oddly enough, three years later, in the spring 2002, I was the coxswain for our undefeated men's novice eight heading into conference championships. We'd won every race to that point, had medals to show for it, but the conference banner was what everyone was working toward. The moment the boat crossed the line, miles ahead of second place, everything that had happened in my athletic career to that point, came flooding back, including how I felt that night in 1999. 

Sport. Athletic achievement. It's stunning. 

Remember that there are lessons to be learned in victory and defeat. I absolutely believe that you learn more about yourself, your team, your program after a defeat, especially one that stings than you do in any victory. It might be a comeback the size of Buffalo vs. Houston and the 38-3 hole the Bills overcame, and it still doesn't reveal the deep truths that the four losses the Bills suffered in the Super Bowls did. 

2012 WN4 on their way to a 4th place finish at Champs, losing to two boats they'd beaten before, and would beat a couple weeks later at WIRAs.