TIB Draft

I hated playing sports when I was younger, and not just one in particular, all of them. All the way from karate to tennis. It was not because I was any good at them or didn’t enjoy playing, actually quite the opposite. I hated the thought of losing anything and sheer idea that someone could single-handedly tarnish my reputation as the Dojo Champion or best wide receiver on the football team with just one mistake on my behalf, brought up such a feeling in my stomach that I could become physically ill before games. Competition meant there was a chance of failing and failing to me meant that I should be ashamed of and my team.  

As I got older, the competition improved and I began to lose more and more. I used to view failure as a reminder of what I was bad at or should have avoided, but it is really just the opposite. Failure is a learning experience. That is why I believe that the inevitability of failure is a far more powerful method of learning than continual success.

I will never forget the first time I lost a wrestling match, weighing in at a mean 115 pounds, I assumed that I would emerge victorious as usual. I looked across the mat at the other kid, actually someone I had wrestled before, I had beaten him 3 times throughout our middle school careers, but this time he had a wild look in his eye which my teammates would look back on the match and refer to him as “Cat Boy.” If we were not 13 years old I would have guessed some sort of performance enhancer. The match itself lasted all of 2 minutes before I was flat on my back and I heard the rhythmic hands of referee giving ME the 3 count. There I laid, barely out of breath, dazed, confused…and pinned. This is where things got interesting, I didn’t know how to lose. I ignored his handshake, ripped my headgear off, throwing it into the garbage, left the gym, and went straight to the locker room where I sat and waited for my team. I was appalled with how I reacted and really can never justify it. My first loss was not supposed to be to HIM of all people. The questions; “How could I let this happen?”, “What would my parents think?” ran through my head on a loop. I was beyond embarrassed, but the next question that came was “Why should I be?”

I realize now that “Cat boy” was sick of losing and did something about it. He knew how to lose, which means to make it a learning experience, not something that you just give up on when you’re. He wrestled passionately and pinned me with the only move I had ever used on him. I took pride in that. I don’t compete all that much anymore, but now when I do poorly on any tests, I don’t get frustrated or upset, I just know that there is one more thing for me to work on. To this day, I am wildly impressed by what he did to me and honestly happy that I lost. My only regret is having never shaken the hand of the 13 year old who taught me that failing was better than it sounds.