Sidelines
Kalani Simpson
Losing doesn’t always
make you a loserLOSING isn't for the weak of heart.
Losing isn't for wimps.
I'm thinking about this, as Hawaii baseball drops another one, at Rice, to stand at 1-11 in conference play. Somehow I see the scene from "The Natural" -- the guys all sitting there as a 1920s-era sports psychologist does his thing: Losing is a disease ... as contagious as the bubonic plague ...
This goes on, listing several other diseases, until Robert Redford can take no more, leaving in a huff. And soon after, he grabs his bat, the one with the lightning bolt on it, starts performing miracles, and his team starts winning.
All they needed was for someone, a winner, to dig down, work hard, and go for it!
But things aren't always so simple in real life. I'm reminded of my high school experience, in which our coach tried hypnotism, aerobics instructors, inspirational speeches, and, when all that failed, running us into the ground.
But still, we lost.
That's what losing is like. There are times when it seems like nothing you do will work, when it seems like everything you try just seems to come out awkwardly.
I have had a lot of experience in losing.
I feel fully qualified to comment on it.
I now feel a better human being for having gone through it.
Sure, anybody can win, and smile, and point their fingers skyward in that "We're No. 1" pose. Anybody can accept congratulations, and hold up trophies, and dance in locker rooms, their eyes stinging with champagne.
That doesn't take any particular talent.
No one ever said winning builds character.
Quite the opposite, sometimes.
But bouncing back after a loss, that is toughness. That shows what kind of competitor you are. It teaches you how to deal with adulthood, in which there are precious few trophy presentations and you rarely get a chance to dump a bucket of ice cubes on your boss.
That's life. You've got to be tough out there. You've got to be able to take it, and move on, and come back for more.
And what happens to winners? They party, on that pedestal, and bask in glory. They feel let down when the cheering eventually stops. They retire and unretire endlessly, looking for one more triumph. They don't know how to handle disappointment. Worst of all, many of them become TV commentators.
Now, yesterday, they told us we had an epic battle between two good losers (ridiculous, but that's how labels go these days). The stakes were enormous, because one of them would ascend into the promised land, and even bigger, even better, into the role of winner, putting losing behind him, at last.
You could see the weight of it all on both their faces.
You could see it lifted from Jim Boeheim at the end.
The poor sucker. He doesn't even know what's about to hit him.
At least he'll appreciate it more than anyone else could.
And Roy Williams just became an even better man.
Kalani Simpson can be reached at ksimpson@starbulletin.com