Winning
December 26, 2012
If you and I were playing a game of, let’s say, a game of tennis, and I don’t try to win, and you defeat me, I’ve cheapened your victory. And in cheapening your victory, I’ve been a poor sport.
Trying to win is a good thing. Trying to win is a goal of school sports. Trying in the best way, that is: within the rules, with all our effort, and with grace, regardless of the outcome.
The most satisfying victory we can have in sports is defeating our best opponent on our opponent’s best day.
The least satisfying victory is against a weak opponent, or as a result of an opponent’s mistake, or an official’s bad call, or – worst of all – by our own cheating.
You want your best opponent on their best day. You feel the best when you defeat the best, playing their best.
That’s ecstasy in sports. There is no better feeling in sports.
Don’t mistake anything I ever write to mean I don’t care about winning. I really do. And I care that it has real value.
See What You Say
July 31, 2012
Edward Morgan Forster is an English novelist who died as I was graduating as an English major at Dartmouth College in 1970.
Like many creative writers, E. M Forster traveled the world; and of his six novels (each of which was made into a film), it is A Passage to India, written in 1924, that was most popular.
He also wrote many short stories, plays, film scripts, essays, literary criticism, two biographies and even a libretto. He was, to say the least, a prolific writer.
The secret of his productivity is probably the genius and tortured soul which drives so many great authors. However, there is one quote from E. M. Forster that may be especially revealing. He said: “How do I know what I think until I see what I say?” He was a writer in order to be a better thinker.
I have neither genius nor a tortured soul; but what has driven me to write throughout my administrative career – and what has kept me blogging twice a week for three full years as of today – is that I cannot be sure what I know – or what I believe and will stand behind – until I can see it in writing and know that it will be read by others. That’s when I begin to know what I really think.