© Pierre Maré,
2004 - 2007
Offbeat 138
My daughter has recently picked up the desire to win, in much the same way George Bush wanted to invade Iraq or the way some teenager wants to go out and party. I don’t know who put the urge in her head, but it’s strong, really strong, and she won’t accept no for an answer, even in a traffic jam a couple of blocks long.
I never had the desire in any big way, so I don’t quite get it. I tell her, “It doesn’t matter whether you win or lose, it’s how you play the game,” but she doesn’t believe me all that much, though she enjoys the rhythm of the saying. And to be honest I’m not entirely sure if I believe it or not myself.
For some reason, my right eye never quite made it to the party. It looks downwards most of the time. It has a different view of the world. In fact, it only really comes into play if I close my left eye. When people told me to ‘keep my eye on the ball’, I did it very literally. Without depth perception, ball games were never my thing, and it didn’t matter whether I won or lost, so long as, by mutual consent between myself and whoever was organising the game, I didn’t play.
Does that statement about winning or losing have any validity any more?
In the realm of professional sport, probably not at all. Winning, we are told, is everything. In fact, one grubby little ad for a large clothing chain went so far as to say that winners wear good clothes. The agenda was obvious, but the fact that anyone could have uttered those words, shows just how far the concept of winning has progressed.
Team losses are discussed at national levels. Does it matter how the game was played? Yes, but only to ensure that coaches and managers are fired, and the team wins next time round.
It seems as if second and third on the podium are an intricate form of humiliation. Those who don’t make it for the medals are far better off in their obscurity than those ‘also-rans’ who have to stand up and be seen by the crowd alongside the actual winner.
In the world of business, it’s all about money of course. Failure means loss of income and ultimately bankruptcy, so the ability to make a good showing is vital. But being first is good, even if it is only being the first company to introduce quadruple wrapping and high tech fused sealer as additional barriers to germs and people who actually want to open the product.
And then there is the very, very interesting world of cars. Aside from German engineering, which seems to operate on some entirely highly-desirable different set of principles to common-or-garden Asian or American engineering, there is the offer of speed. Why sell a car that goes from 0 to 120 in 3 seconds flat when there is the little matter of urban traffic. Is it something to do with the desire to be first to wait at the traffic light? Or could it be the fact that you can now conveniently beat the neighbour across the street into his own garage when he opens the door and triumphantly shout, “You see, I won”?
If winning is such an incredible attribute, what about the rest of everyone. In business lingo, everyone can be a winner, as long as they are prepared to accept that they need to pay for the privilege and are prepared to overlook the unctuous grin on the faces of the marketing and financial managers. But in reality, there can only be one winner. So perhaps, competition should be organised in pairs. At least, that way, only half the world will be losers.
Perhaps the answer lies in the fact that how you play the game determines whether you win or not? But a life lived with the sole intent of winning, all the time, hardly qualifies as a life at all. It’s just a series of measurements of yourself against the merits of others.
For my part, I’m not joining in the race. I have enough competition in trying to find ways to best my previous efforts. It keeps me occupied without worrying about the classy racing shoes worn by competitors who all shop at a clothing chain.
I’m not here to be better than others. I’m running at my own pace. Start the race without me.
