Gimme Shelter: Winning and losing
Being a sore loser is a time-honored American tradition.
Generations of young American athletes learn this when they are bequeathed the sweet words of the Sage of Green Bay, Vince Lombardi: “Show me a good loser, and I’ll show you a loser.”
I remember our high school football coach, who would quote a UCLA coach, Henry Russel “Red” Sanders, who bristled that, “Winning isn’t everything — it’s the only thing.”
My teammates and I puzzled over that one. We were an abysmal team, and quite accustomed to being on the losing end of games. The only thing? Come on, Coach. There’s got to be other things. Sportsmanship? Gratification that we gave it our all?
Nope. The only thing.
It’s also accepted practice to not congratulate your opponent who has defeated you and blame others for your losses. The umpire is blind. The ref is in the tank for the other team. Instant replay? Somebody’s rigging images in the video room.
Saint Tom Brady (only canonized in New England) is known as such a winner that on occasion he took to not shaking hands with the opposing quarterback when Brady’s team came up short.
It’s like, Brady, being a total winner, was so upset when he lost, he needed time to process it, same as the boy who is pulling faces because he lost at whiffle ball. But that’s probably due to the boy’s father, who is intent on raising his son to be a winner and never a … you know.
Brady’s coach, Bill Belichick, is another figure who should be spotlighted for carrying on the proud tradition of sore loser-dom. He’s skipped scheduled interviews with TV and print reporters after a loss, and even when he did show up, he grunted in monosyllables, or not at all. Some could point out that the jovial Mr. Belichick acted that way after he won, too, but went deeper into soreness after the scoreboard told him a truth he couldn’t accept.
And then there’s Cam Newton who, after his team lost a Super Bowl, scowled and moped his way through a post-game interview before walking out on the reporters.
Awesome move, Cam.
He then, of course, tweeted the thing about show me a good loser and … etc. His coach supported his player by saying, “I’d much rather have a guy who hates to lose than a guy who accepts it.”
Cam and Coach, Stand Up Guys! Accept it? That’s a loser thing. Wait a minute. But didn’t the scoreboard say …?
New York Knicks Coach Jeff Hornacek once complained to some sportswriters that his hapless team “should hate to lose more than they love to win.” Besides not asking the coach to take a sobriety test, most of the reporters let it pass, because some (most?) coaches talk rot as a matter of course.
But, hate losing more than love winning? It makes sense in a way, because losing a basketball game is so truly horrifying, the emotion outweighs by tons the elation of winning.
The National Hockey League has a tradition where the losing team lines up and shakes hands with the winners after every playoff series. To skip the ritual is unthinkable. But then, hockey is Canada’s national sport, right? Not America’s, which is … winning, and pouting, sulking, grouching and whining when we don’t, and threatening to take over their country because … search me. A recent hockey ritual is Canadian fans booing when the American National Anthem is played and/or sung. Seems it’s got something to do with the idea that America will annex Canada “one way or the other.” What a way to treat a friend.
Then there were the San Francisco 49ers from a few years ago who lost a championship game. They were so upset that seven of the eight players selected to the League’s Pro Bowl, or All-Star team, didn’t go.
Showed them. Team spirit all the way, poor sportsmanship not by an individual but a good portion of the starting team.
A great patriot, businessman, politician, and sportsman once owned a professional football team until it and the whole league went belly up. This winner was worried about naming his first-born son after himself. “What if he’s a loser?” the patriot wondered.
There are blasphemers to this liturgy of sore losing. One of the greatest coaches in American history, John Wooden, said about losing: “You must simply study it, learn from it, and try hard not to lose the same way again. Then you must have the self-control to forget about it.” He understood the 19th century English novelist, Samuel Butler, who wrote: “One of the first businesses of a sensible man is to know when he is beaten, and to leave off fighting at once.”
The last words should be left to Muhammad Ali, who said, after a loss, “I never thought of losing, but now that it’s happened, the only thing is to do it right. That’s my obligation to all the people who believe in me. We all must take defeats in life.”
Christopher Beam, writing in the Atlantic, has a poignant story of sportsmanship, respect for opponents, and a way to conduct yourself. “You would have forgiven Akio Kaminaga for losing his cool,” Mr. Beam writes. “Heading into the gold-medal match at the Tokyo Olympics in 1964, the Japanese judo champion was under enormous pressure. That year’s Games heralded Japan’s comeback after its wartime defeat, and judo, in particular, was a symbol of national pride. The Japanese judo team was on the verge of sweeping all of the medals. Kaminaga just needed one more victory — against a giant Dutchman named Antonius Geesink, who stood eight inches taller than him.
“Kaminaga lost to Geesink in two minutes. The arena was shocked; some people cried. Still, Kaminaga bowed to Geesink, smiled, and shook his hand. As the press began to swarm the competition floor, Geesink waved them off to spare Kaminaga the embarrassment. It’s remembered as a moment of sportsmanship and mutual respect.”
But we’ll close with one of the most heralded sore losers of all times, George “Boss” Steinbrenner, owner of the Yankees way back in the day. Known for calling a Yankee pitcher who had a rough outing someone who had “spit the bit,” he was known to scream at other players, managers, umpires and denigrate anyone who didn’t bow to kiss his ring, which the Boss kept in his back pocket.
Once after losing a World Series game to the Dodgers, the Boss did the adult thing — he punched a wall and broke his hand. Later, when asked about the cast on his hand, he claimed he had beaten up a couple of Dodger fans in an elevator.
As writer Austin Schindel perfectly summed it up: “I‘m not sure which story is worse.”
