The agony of defeat

Bummed out.

That's how I felt when I woke up this morning, and now that the day is nearly done the gloominess is still there. It might take a while for me to get over Butler University losing to the University of Connecticut in the NCAA national championship game.

I know it's just a game. I know a sporting event doesn’t come close to equaling the tragedy of war, poverty, human suffering or natural disaster. And yet, the deep disappointment is there nevertheless. I’d invested myself emotionally in Matt Howard, Shelvin Mack, Brad Stevens and Co., and I feel rotten that another dream season ended in heartbreak.

Losing often does this to me, even when I’m no more than a spectator.

Matt Howard, I know how you feel

For as long as I can remember I’ve taken defeat harder than most people. I’ve certainly had more than enough experience, having probably posted more L’s than W’s in the won-loss record of my life. But despite my familiarity with defeat, I’ve never grown accustomed to losing.

I despise losing and struggle to understand it. Losing makes me moody, irritable, withdrawn and depressed. Even in victory I sometimes dwell only on the failures along the way. I’m a lot like former tennis great Ivan Lendl, who once said he hated losing more than he loved winning.

How and why I became this way, I can’t explain. While I inherited my fiery competitive nature from my father, he was able to shake off defeat and move on. It’s never been that simple for me.

I remember my high school and college athletic careers. After many games where my team lost I was inconsolable, often choosing to sit quietly by myself during the bus ride home rather than chat it up with my teammates. I’d review the game film of my mind, trying to figure out what went wrong and how defeat could have been averted.

One especially painful road trip comes to mind. My high school basketball team was playing a conference rival – a much larger school we’d never beaten. After playing a near perfect first half – a half in which I scored 20 points – we led by double-digits. We were ecstatic in the locker room at halftime. We came out for the second half expecting to finally close the deal against the school that had owned us.

It didn’t happen. Our opponent rallied and finally took the lead late in the fourth quarter. We never led again. I finished with a career-high 33 points, but all I could think about heading home that night was the opportunity that we’d let slip away. I was so upset I didn’t want to hear the congratulatory words from teammates and fans, much less get off the bus when it stopped at McDonald’s.

Adulthood brought an end to my competitive playing days, but not the sting of defeat. Many are the times I’ve coached youth sports teams and agonized over losses, even as the kids themselves were forgetting the final score as they tore into the post-game snack and Gatorade.

Lombardi made a habit of winning

When I started an athletic program for homeschooled kids nearly eight years ago I knew it likely would take years for our teams to be competitive against established clubs. My hunch was correct. Although we won some games, the losses far outnumbered them. On the outside I played up effort and attitude and downplayed results with players and parents, but inside I was aching. I wanted the kids to feel like winners and not also-rans – the feeling I’d had through much of my high school sports career.

These days I find it difficult being a sports fan without dying a little after each humbling setback. Indianapolis Colts playoff losses can leave me blue for days. Watching the St. Louis Cardinals fall in three of the five World Series I’ve seen them reach was dispiriting. And then there was Butler, dropping title games to Duke last year and to UConn last night.

Vince Lombardi knew a lot about winning. He also knew a thing or two about losing.

“Winning is a habit,” Lombardi said, “and, unfortunately, so is losing.”

Don’t I know it.