Month: February 2014

[Originally published on Oakville.com.]

Dear Kids,

As the Winter Olympics get close to the end, a few words about Winning and Losing…

Sports and games are a big part of our lives, whether it’s watching the pros on TV, playing in your weekend house league, or even a friendly game of Monopoly just to pass the time. As archaeologists continue to prove, it’s been like this for as long as we’ve had civilization. Games like Chess and Go have been around for over a thousand years, some others even longer. The Mayan peoples of Mexico played a sport that was kind of a cross between basketball and soccer, and they even built special courts and stadiums for it. (Maybe they had their own version of the World Cup?)

It’s in the nature of all living things to compete, even over things as basic as food resources, shelter, and a quiet place to sleep at the end of the day. We humans have elevated that into something a little more sophisticated. I imagine that among the first people, there was probably someone who could hunt faster, or grow better crops than everyone else. Nowadays that guy would probably get a Nike endorsement for his bow and arrow, or use Gatorade-sponsored farm tools.

The problem starts from the natural fact that any competitive act has a winner and a loser. And losing always stings, even if it’s just a little bit. Our modern culture places a huge emphasis on winning. Even the word “loser” is a common insult.

From an early age, we adults try (or should, at least) to teach you that the game itself is the main thing, that it’s all about having fun and building skills. Some leagues don’t keep score, some don’t run playoffs, and most hand out medals to every kid instead of one big trophy. Kids usually keep track of the score themselves, anyway. They can’t help it – it’s the nature of competition.

I agree that kids’ games should be kept fun and skills-focused, but I also think it’s necessary for you to experience winning and losing. After all, the competitions in life don’t stop as you get older, and no one is going to give you a participation medal if you get passed over for a job. You should get to enjoy the highs of success, as much as you should learn to deal with the lows of coming up short. And it’s important to learn that, even when you work hard, and do your work flawlessly, things still might not go your way.

When you learn these things, it’s easier to remember to show respect for everyone who competes. You remember to be modest when you win, and to control your anger when you lose. This is something that grownups sometimes have trouble with. I’m sure you remember those parents who’ve gotten too excited from the sidelines, who’ve said and done things they definitely shouldn’t.

The spirit of the Olympics encourages us to take this respect even further. Unfortunately, during these Games I’ve read some pretty awful online comments criticizing our athletes for failing to win gold. Of course it’s disappointing and frustrating to lose, but to call Patrick Chan an “embarrassment to Canada” because he got a SILVER medal? To make these young athletes feel they have to apologize for not winning, when they’ve clearly given it their all?

Please don’t be that kind of person. That’s the real loser.

Love,
Dad

[Originally published on Oakville.com.]

Dear Kids,

Aren’t the Olympic Games exciting? Here I am, at my computer, supposedly working, with the Internet stream from CBC running in the background. It’s hard to get work done when I’d rather be watching Canada win another medal, but I’m trying.

And speaking of Trying…

Being a kid is wonderful, but it’s also hard. Every activity is a new skill to be learned. And it’s easy to get discouraged when things don’t go right. You probably don’t remember when you learned to walk. It seems easy to you now, but there were so many things to learn! You had to be able to stand first, keeping your feet under you, and your body straight enough to avoid falling over. Then you had to keep balanced while lifting one foot to take a step. Then another step, and another. You fell over many times, you got frustrated, you cried, and sometimes it seemed like you’d never get back up and try again.

Did I tell you I was learning to row? It’s the middle of February, so I’m only training on an erg machine right now, but even then it’s pretty challenging. In rowing, going fast isn’t just about how hard you pull the oar, or even how quickly, but the way you perform the whole stroke. Every time you slide the seat up and down the rail, you have think about posture, and balance, and where your hands are. And on every stroke, the little computer display shows you immediately how fast you’d be going if you were on the water.

Let’s just say this – I’m not very fast, and the computer reminds me about it every time I pull the oar. Sometimes, after hundreds of those little reminders, I wonder whether I’ll ever get the hang of it. And I’m not even on the water yet!

My point is, anything you do, no matter how small, no matter how well, always has a possibility of failure. For every three athletes on the medal podium, there are hundreds who didn’t make it. Does that make their effort any less worth it? Should the Jamaican bobsled team stay home just because everyone thinks they have no chance of winning? No. They have just as much right to try as everyone else.

Now, I can’t talk about Trying without remembering what Yoda said to Luke Skywalker: “Try not. Do. Or do not. There is no try.” Maybe with all those Force powers, the Jedi never have to learn to walk. Or row. But with all respect to Master Yoda, I think there is a Try. I think of Try as having the courage to Do, even when you might Do Not.

There’s a word for that kind of courage – Determination. And whether you’re an athlete at Sochi, or you’re taking a school test, or you’re just trying to get that darn Flappy Bird through one more set of pipes, Determination is what gives you the strength to try again after you fail.

And even if you do fail, Determination reminds you that your effort makes you slightly better. That you’re one step closer to walking, or slowly getting faster even if you’re rowing to nowhere.

Keep on Trying.

Love,
Dad

PS: Go Canada Go!