Competition rocks!

Well, at least most of the time. I don't know why, don't understand it really, but I love to compete, win or lose. Okay, mostly I like to win. But I've learned to not let that ruin me. I remember first understanding that it is okay to lose. Bob, my step-son, was involved in building and racing model boats at a scouting activity.

Bob made it all the way to the finals. Each time he won he acted happy about it, but also showed a marvelous amount of compassion for the loser. Then in the finals he lost. And he was unfazed. He congratulated the winner and ran off with his buddies. It was a good lesson. Becoming a gracious loser is still a bit out of my range, but I'm getting better.

Bob and I competed in a small, friendly neighborhood golf tournament today. 9 holes on the front nine of the local muni. Scramble format. I figured on the first tee that 2 or 3 under would probably be in the money (so to speak).

We parred the first two holes, missing an 8 foot birdie put on two, a left to right breaker that fell away wickedly. The third hole is a 500 yard par 5. Bob hit a 300 yard drive, ultimately winning the long drive contest and putting us in a good position to birdie the hole. I rolled in an uphill 4 footer to secure that birdie. That bit of fortune got us going and led to birdies on four and five.

On six my approach stopped 7 feet from the pin. I putted last and blew my ball past the hole on the high side. It was a makable putt and we all felt disappointed by the lost opportunity. Seven is a long, difficult par three and we were all relieved when we secured a par. We stood on the eighth tee at three under, feeling that we had been robbed of two strokes. We needed the birdie on eight.

Bob hit another long drive that just caught the left rough. We were left with a difficult second shot. The first three attempts went wild. I played last knowing that we didn't have a ball within 125 yards of the green. I felt the pressure. My three iron from a ragged lie 200 yards out ended up just short of the green. My chip was again the last shot played to the green, coming to rest 8 feet above the hole. We had to make that putt.

The first two played and missed. Bob went second and had a bit too much pace. His putt just lipped out. That's when I thought about competition. I realized that if the third putt missed, I would be up. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach and realized that I was afraid. I stood to the side, and turned away. It was time to summon up a will to make the putt. It is a hard feeling to describe. But I know that the only time I have that feeling is in the heat of competition. It's unique.

I looked out over the golf course and realized that there was a choice to make. I could give into my fears, in essence giving up. Or I could resolve to try my best and hope. Or, I realized that I could choose to succeed. Will the ball into the hole. I resolved that if I had to step up to the putt that I was going to make it. I turned back to cheering. Hal sunk the putt. I congratulated him and turned to walk off the green, wondering what would have happened. Also, realizing that I'd never find out.

We finished at 4 under after I missed a down hill, right to left, 15 foot putt on the last hole. Another opportunity lost. We also ended up tying for first place and losing in a coin toss. (Our captain called heads. I recommended tails. What can I say.)

Between the tournament and the after golf dinner and awards ceremony, Bob and I slipped away to shot some arrows. We picked up a new target earlier in the day and wanted to try it out. We shot for an hour. We also devised a game. Shoot six arrows from 20 yards. 10 points for each bullseye, 8 points in the red ring and 5 points in the white ring. Anything else was a no score. We shot 10 rounds and scored the last 8. We kept track of our scores on each round. Competition.

In 1993 Tom Watson determined that win or lose at the Ryder Cup he would quote from Theodore Roosevelt's "Man in the Arena" speech. Here is the portion of the speech quoted by Watson:

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."

--Theodore Roosevelt

Those who compete understand the nature of being in the arena. Competitors share something, the essence of competition, that bystanders can never comprehend. Life is a participation sport. And like it or not, it is founded on competition. Each time I compete, whatever the nature, I gain a better understanding and appreciation. It really isn't about winning or losing. It's about being there, in the arena..........
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