Still a Little Too Competitive?

I like to think that I have grown a lot in recent years. Different life events and experiences have lent themselves to changes in my priorities that most people who know me would say are positive. I take my responsibilities as a husband and father very seriously and I have prioritized my life accordingly. Most who have known me for long enough would say I have matured and that I might even have my life pulled together. At first glance you might even believe it. However, I still have a huge Achilles heel: I am still way too competitive.

Anyone who has played sports with me knows I hate to lose. This hatred of losing has existed in me as long as I can remember. To be honest, it never was relegated to sports. I have always hated losing at anything. Checkers, video games, Risk, Axis and Allies, Strat-O-Matic basketball, it didn't matter. I have always loved competing and I have always wanted to win. I thought I had mellowed a lot in recent years, especially after my son was born. Before this life-changing event in 2005, teammates knew I was good for blowing up after a stupid play or a lack of effort. I have said things to referees that were inventive (and usually true), biting, and while entertaining, I often regretted talking to someone like that (even when they deserved it). I have been better lately. Much better, in fact. However, a couple of Friday nights ago I realized that I have a long, long way to go.

My niece Gabby asked me to participate in a March Madness themed parent-child basketball shooting contest sponsored by her elementary school. I jumped at the chance to do this with her, as I have been feeling very guilty about not having a lot of time to spend with my extended family of late. It was a great event, a really nice effort by the school. There was a huge turnout, and Gabby was really excited.

The contest was a humanized version of pop-a-shot. The kids shoot for 60 seconds, then the adult shoots for 60 seconds. Fellow competitors rebounded and gave the balls back to the shooters. As is my nature, I took my role in the rebound/retrieval role very seriously and did everything in my power to grab boards and hand them off towards the shooters. Then it was our turn...

All of a sudden, most of the parents that were helping rebound and retrieve decided to take a break. Where we once had four or five adults helping, for our round there were two, and a bunch of kids. To say it was a mess for us would be an understatement. Gabby did great amongst the chaos, making three shots. I knew I would have to be lights out for us to medal. I stepped up and started draining shots. At one point one of the dads said I made 10 in a row. Our section of the gym went into "oooooh" mode. Then, towards the end of the hot streak, no more balls. There were six balls assigned to each shooter and at three different times, I had nothing to shoot. I dropped 23 shots, more than any other adult, but should have had 30-plus. And yes, this upset me a bit.

My Mom said I gave most of the clowns that I so nicely helped dirty looks on the way off of the line, on my way to pick Gabby up to give her a hug to tell her I was proud of her. She was a little down about hitting only three, but when kids are throwing balls at your face it is tough to shoot. Two of her shots were blocked by balls being thrown at her instead of being handed to her. It was a disgrace. Upon meeting my Mom on the bleachers, she told me my one eye was bloodshot. So, yeah, I was blood-vessel popping angry.

Should I have been this fired up at an elementary school event? No. But at the time I felt completely justified for being upset at the other adults at our basket. As I said earlier, I hate to lose. On top of that, I hate injustice! We weren't beaten, we were sabotaged. I made sure not to go on about this in front of Gabby, because the last thing I want to do is whine in front of children. However, I DO plan to re-enter next year's contest and I am bringing my own rebounding help. As The Who are wont to say - we won't be fooled again!