The Loser

Snapped by my daughter on the weekend of practice with Dad before her qualifying tennis trials

But a good player is not always a gentleman, and the difference in cultivation may always be distinguished. A gentleman will never deride any one of his bad play, nor give vent to oaths, or strong epithets, if disappointed in the playing of one of his side. If he has to ask another player for anything, he does so in a way to establish his claim to gentility. “May I trouble you for that ball?” or, “Will you please hand me that bat?” are much preferable to “Here, you! ball there!” Or, “Clumsy, don’t carry off that bat!” Again, if a gentleman makes a mistake himself, he should always acknowledge it quietly, and never start a stormy discussion as to the merits of his batting or fielding. In fine, preserve the same calm demeanor in the field that you would in the parlor, however deeply you enter into the excitement of the game.

“The Gentlemen's Book of Etiquettes” by Cecil Hartley, 1873

**********

Dear Alex,

What happens when you don’t win?

I am not asking about losing. Is there a fine line between losing vs. not winning?

Not winning implies missing the aim, falling short of the ideal. You want something beyond reach.

To lose is to let go. Could there be freedom in losing something to grant space for a fresh experience, awareness or discovery?

Earlier this week, my daughter competed in a 2-hour series of tennis matches to qualify for the junior varsity team. A novice player, she sought Dad for practice on the prior weekend, hoping to hike her chance of winning in the upcoming trials. Decades past in high school, he had competed in several tennis tournaments.

On the big day of show, she won 1 of 3 rounds. Then she joined a special group of the two-thirds, girls who did not win.

They cried.

They wondered. The next contest would happen without them.

This happening of feeling cut off has nothing to do with the cutting of a game. In the court of competing, winners and dreamers strike within specified arcs and corners to cut out a delicious impression. The real game starts and thrives in the imagination.

When you lose, you win a crown of thorns to find yourself rejected by the norm, adorned in grace, a victor for choosing to arise and replay.

Yours, Kate