How to Eat An Elephant ~Chapter Ten: Competition Is Good For The Soul

To say my dad was fiercely competitive by nature would be an understatement. As I have already mentioned he was very involved in sports, both himself as an athlete and also as a youth coach. He loved coaching the boys in little league baseball and basketball. And he loved playing softball, baseball and basketball on city and church leagues.

 I remember many times watching him get into a squabble with an ump or ref over a bad call. He was loud and proud and many times this resulted in him being ejected from a game and more than once he was ejected from the gym! Emma and Derrek have a lot of their grandfather in them when it comes to playing basketball. If they get fouled and the ref doesn’t do his job, you can bet the next trip down the court will result in another foul…. one of retaliation… one that when the person gets fouled, they will remember for several days that they were fouled! They get that from their grandpa and I am sure he smiles a little about that! He always stood up for his teammates and his kids (both HIS kids and the kids he was coaching) and spoke up when he thought himself or a teammate had been wronged by a bad call. He especially enjoyed rooting for the underdog… whether from the sidelines, the bench, the dugout or the recliner! He instilled in me a special place in my heart for underdogs. Even if his team wasn’t the strongest or fastest and the 1^st place team, he still encouraged them and loved them and win or lose, we always got root beer at the A&W after a baseball game! He understood the benefits of healthy competition (and sometimes unhealthy competition), but he also understood that it was important to build the boys’ self-esteem and help them feel like their best was all he expected of them. He was always saddened by the other coaches that would belittle and scream and yell at the boys because winning was all that mattered. Winning was important, but it wasn’t everything. One time during a little league game, his team was behind and he needed to say something to motivate his team in a really tight game. Instead of yelling and throwing water bottles to motivate his team, he told them “the game’s not over until the fat lady farts”….LOL! They ended up winning that game!

His competitive nature wasn’t limited to sporting events. It was a part of everything he did. It would show up in random places… like wrestling with my brothers and cousins at a family reunion or at the card table or telling tall tales of his fishing adventures. I’m still not sure if the story about Cleo is real or if he just needed to tell a story about a bigger fish than whomever his fishing companion was at the time. He was always looking for an advantage in everything he did. He was really good at developing trick plays or special moves or a unique curve ball that would give himself or his team an advantage. I can recall him spending hours in the back yard with my brothers teaching them exactly where to place their fingers on the thread of the baseball and exactly how to flick their wrist to get just the right spin on the ball. We had a ping pong table in the basement for a while and he took great joy in adding “English” to the ball so that his opponent wouldn’t know where it was going to land on their side of the table. He even got good at adding a little English to the blip when playing Pong on the TV! He was good at reading people and he always seemed to know when you had a good hand of cards or when you were bluffing. He was skilled at spotting weakness and knowing when to use that to his advantage. He knew when to put in a home run hitter and when to bunt.

I think that by witnessing his special talent for reading the circumstances in competitive situations, it prepared me to be able to read people and situations. He taught me to trust my gut and that has been something that has helped me… and caused me to stumble… many times in my life. There have been times when I didn’t go with my gut on something and it turned out badly.  My gut always tells me to stick up for the underdog. Whether it’s a person who needs a friend or someone who is being bullied or someone who just needs a little encouragement, I have been taught, by his great example, to be there for them. Just like when I imagine he is smiling when my kids exhibit their competitive nature in a sporting event, I like to hope that he is smiling at me when I find the opportunity to help a person in need by giving them a hand up or a pat on the back or just letting them know that someone is on their side. I feel a special closeness to my dad when I act on an opportunity to help a person, who maybe at the time, couldn’t help themselves.

Through his example, I have learned when it’s appropriate to be competitive and when it’s appropriate to be compassionate, when it’s appropriate to stand up for a principle, and when it’s ok to turn the other cheek. It’s important to have the discernment to know which battles to pick and when to walk away. This has helped me as a parent, a wife, a daughter and a sister, as well as with other relationships in my life. I have also learned about loyalty and teamwork and how important it is to stick together during the bumpy times, because it makes the victories that much sweeter.

It was a huge burden being the oldest child of someone so competitive. I tried to play basketball and run track and cross country. I loved running because it made me feel free (and because there were boys on the team..hehe)… but to be honest, I wasn’t really good at either thing. I always felt like I was a disappointment to my dad because I lacked his athletic prowess.

I have a son that is an awesome runner. In high school, his job was to leave all he had on the track, and my job was to catch him at the finish line. One time, I couldn’t get through the crowd quickly enough to meet him at the finish line and I saw him wandering around somewhat delirious asking people if they had seen his mom. (What a payday for my mommy heart, that he would want his mom to lean on after a really tough race!)

 I can’t remember if my dad was there at my games or my track meets, but I do feel him near me now, cheering me on, as I run the race of this mortal life. I can hardly wait until the day when he is there at the finish line to catch me. I hope he will be proud of the race I have run and know that I tried my best, that I put my face to the wind,  had the endurance to finish… and left it all on the track!