a lesson in losing

Say what you may, nobody likes losing. 

This thought came to me when I recalled a conversation I had with a friend, 

“Easy for you to say, you’re so talented, everyone likes you. You have this scarily carefree attitude towards things, tell me the last time you lost. Heck okay maybe you can, but tell me the last time such a small loss affected you when you’ve always won big.”

In her defense, she wasn’t being mean. 

People don’t get it. 

See, I don’t know of this small loss or big win you talk about; to me they are all equal.

Am I not affected? Wrong. 

People look at others and they tend to see the accolades tied to that person’s name, the pedigree, the advantages, the speed at which they attained their glory, the perceived success. And whilst these may all be well true, there are always more than meets the eye. 

Everyone knows of the tiring, behind-the story craze that often matches the winning streak that comes with it, they admit it, they recognise it, but they don’t ever talk about it. 

You aren’t entitled to complain if you succeeded.

You aren’t entitled to showing signs of stopping if you’re at your peak.

You aren’t entitled to mulling over your losses if you’ve won.

Does that make sense?

People know of losing when you’re not good enough. 

When there’re people better than you.

When you need to go back and practice harder and come back better.

But has anyone ever talked about what happens when you’re the best contender and you lost regardless?

How do you bounce back from that?

When no one there is better than you.

When you have practiced harder than your body could allow, when you have come back as the best.

And you lost, regardless.

You know what’s the worst part?

When other people fight over your results, insisting that it was unfair, insisting that the judges were being ridiculous.

When your opposing team comes to you baffled over their win; insisting that you were better.

And you have to smile, you have to concede, else you’d be a sore loser.

When you meet the judges and they admitted that they wanted to let you win, but the head judge wouldn’t.

That the exact words were “You were too good to be true. You’ve performed for big shows, for official national events so often, you shouldn’t have participated in this stage, it’s unfair to all the other teams”.

You didn’t even get a placing, how fair.

That moment re-defined the definition of winning for me.

You see, the phrase “You can always learn something from losing. Winning is not everything” is not something people throw around to ease their heartache.

You literally can.

Throw a child into sports and performing arts as early as you can. It’s not just to learn teamwork. It’s for them to learn that they can’t get everything they deserve. 

You learn the ugly truth; people would do anything to win. Even if it means destroying your future.

You learn that friends really do exist, but so do thorns amidst roses. You learn to differentiate them.

You learn that internal politics put more players on a team than unfocused hard work does.

You learn that people don’t like you if you’re too good. Be better regardless.

You learn that people like to influence people to do something bad so they don’t feel so bad doing it. Learn to take a stance.

You learn to fall hard, and fall flat. Learn to get the fuck back up.

You learn that even when politics is in play, some things they can’t best; namely, talent. Talent comes from hard hard hard work. Work hard.

You learn to lose. Unfairly, unjustifiably, fairly, justifiably.

And you learn that it hurts. And that, no matter how many times you lose, it doesn’t ever really prepare you for the next.

Losing hurts like a bitch regardless.

Learn how it feels like to lose.
To lose so unfairly, so humiliatingly, it's ridiculous.
To lose so ridiculously, it makes a good story, but it never heals your torn heart.
Learn how it is to place your hopes on something so much that when it crashed, it brought you with it.
Learn how it feels like to want to give up so bad.
Learn how it feels like to never want to stand on stage or to stand on the turf again.
Learn how it feels like to be in the hospital for days stretching to weeks to revisits over years for an injury that was inflicted on you, deliberately.
That battle scars are permanent.
Learn how it feels like to run away because it was so much easier to do.

Learn how hard it is, to convince yourself that getting back up is worth it.
Learn how crazy it is to come back, but come back regardless.

But most importantly, learn to not base your happiness on the score presented on the sheet. 

Enjoy those days basking under the glorious shine of the sun, sweating and getting your ass yelled off at. 

Enjoy the times you rehearse and re-rehearse your parts to the extent that you can recite them in your sleep.

Enjoy the friendships made on these treacherous paths. 

Bask in the limelight when it’s your turn to shine, do your parts better to make others shine brighter.

A team game must be won by a team. It’s not an individual turf. 

Learn how to lose, so you can learn to be grateful when you finally win. And that even this, won’t last. 

There will always be a better person tomorrow, there will always be a new budding star next month.

There will always be a new winner.

Be humble when you do. 

It’s up to you to make yourself that “new person”. Be content if you do, but don’t beat yourself up if you don’t.

Don’t just sit idly though, improve! But that should not be the core of your contentedness or happiness. 

Always make sure you take something out of that experience; that is time not wasted.

Learn how it feels like to leave, to give up.
Only then will staying, and not giving up, make sense. 

Never surrender.

Winning is not all there is to it, but work as if it is. 

Lose or win, ardently. 

Fall seven times, stand up eight.