The Best Pig in the Slop

I had the opportunity to spend the weekend with my best friend from my adolescence, 20s and early 30s. Life has separated us geographically so we have not seen each other for a decade or so. Over dinner one of the questions I asked him was whether he enjoyed beating me in sports. Not really, he said. I never enjoyed beating him in my sports. We agreed that we loved the beauty of the games, the playing rather than the winning.

For those who are exceptional, competitiveness and the will to win are necessary qualities. I admire my son's will to win, although it is not pleasing when the game is simply Uno or chess. But unless a person becomes a college or professional athlete, joy and the beauty of the game have to replace winning at whatever cost.

I love tennis. Beating my wife or my neighbor in tennis is meaningless; the only victories that would actually mean anything would be those that lead to the opportunity to compete against the best players in the world. (I hope you realize how absurd this is, since my major accomplishment each day is to breathe while climbing.)

High school athletes do not yet know who or what they will be. Their competitiveness is now a virtue. But when their dreams are dashed and only a memory, the competitiveness should give way to an appreciation of the beauty of sport.

Yet I see too many has-been and never-will-be athletes tossing aside everything to have one final success. In college it seems rather sad when young persons who have the opportunity to receive a quality -- and life-shaping -- education use it as a means to continue a sporting career that is over: once one has reached as far as possible, the goal should be to compete fully in order to win, but more so to learn for life with every human energy, all that one has.

Sports are fun and they yield wonderful memories, but it makes no sense to expend all of one's energies to be the best pig in the slop.