It’s the Race that Counts

Okay . . . I’m old enough to accept that I’m not going to come out on top.  I’m not going to win the race.  It’s just not in the cards.  The best I’m going to do is to get a “participant” trophy.  I can handle that at my age.  It is just not going to happen.  The odds were just too great.  Something like a zillion to one.  In the end I think that is what everyone should get—a “participant” trophy.  After all . . . we finished the race and that was the goal all along.

In the end, isn’t that what we all deserve?  Recognition for a race well ran?  That we finished.

 

My grandchildren have reached the age when they are now competing in competitive sports.  They are no longer playing sports for the sake of playing, enjoyment, and exercise.  Nope.  They have entered the realm of “winners and losers”, bragging rights, and all the marbles.  There is more seriousness to the sports they engage in.  A sharper edge.  It is the weeding out of “winners and losers” . . . a pecking order . . . a caste system of sorts.  It has taken the fun out of sports.

 

As my children grew up, I had various roles in their sporting adventures.  In their younger years I encouraged them to try out sports.  I was a cheerleader for their sporting endeavors.  I also coached them.  I coached soccer, basketball, track, and cross country.  When I first started coaching it was about teaching the skills and enjoyment of playing the sport.  The competition wasn’t important.  It was for the pure joy of the sport.  But somewhere along the way I slid into the “dark side” . . . the competitive side.  It was all downhill after that.  I lost track of the exhilaration of sports for the sake of sports.  Lost track of my kids as individuals only to see them as cogs in the competition machine.

 

Sports lost their joy.  For that . . . I apologize to my children and all the kids who endured my slide into the “dark side”.  If I killed the joy of sports for anyone . . . I apologize.  Competition is a sneaky, slippery slope to navigate.

 

I know.

 

Recently at my granddaughter’s lacrosse game, I caught myself with a toe in the “dark side” . . . I was shining about the officiating or lack thereof.  In a close game against an aggressive team the granddaughter’s team was losing.  Now it couldn’t be that the more aggressive team was more experienced and skilled than the granddaughter’s team—they obviously had played the sport longer.  No, the competitive spark in me turned towards the most obvious problem for any spectator—the referees.  Thankfully the whining was contained within the confines of my granddaughter’s mother—my daughter.  It probably triggered all sorts of PTSD flashbacks from the days when I coached her or sat in the stands at her games.  Poor kid.  Besides, it was ridiculous on my part, the referees were doing their best as middle school kids made to volunteer to officiate.  Kids!  Shame on me!  Thankfully I recognized the awakening of the monster within me.  Unfortunately, the daughter caught the brunt of my whining.

 

I apologized.  Then I spent a lot of time thinking about it.  I concluded that it is the fought of competition . . . the need to have “winners and losers” . . . the need to determine the “best” . . . to have a pecking order . . . a caste system.  We live in a society of ranking.  A need to determine the “top to bottom” . . . to declare the “best”.  Competition has ruined life.

 

We live in a competitive world.  It is not just sports—it is everything.  Everything is a competition.  Think about it.  Education is competitive—class ranks, scholarship, valedictorian, dean’s list, grades.  Business is competitive.  Politics is competitive.  War is competitive.  Dog shows.  Music.  Art.  Religion.  Shoot!  We even compete to see who has the best yard.  We rank everything . . . declare things the best . . . have our “top twenty, forty, hundred” lists.  We live in a competitive world.

 

I think competition is destroying life.  That competition has taken the “joy” out of life.  Everything is a competition.  It has worn me out!  It has saddened me as I’ve watched it take the “joy” away from so many.  It has all come about winning.  Only one can win—the rest, well they are “losers”.  No one wants to be a “loser”.

 

May its not competition that’s the problem.  May it is the need to have “winners and losers”.  Instead of having “winners and losers” we should embrace the participation award.  After all, everyone competed and should be acknowledged for doing their best . . . for showing up.  The problem with that is that we have glorified “winning” and declared “losing” as bad.  I’ve seen it with my children.  I have seen it with my grandchildren.  Someone is always keeping score . . . declaring “winners and losers”.  Go to any pee wee sporting event in which the score is not being kept and any kids in the game will be able to tell you . . . they know the score . . . they know whether they have won or lost.  It is too ingrained in the psyche of human nature . . . in society.

 

How terrible!  This was never the intention of the Creator.  I think it was the intention of the Holy for a unified effort towards everyone finishing the race together.  Not individual achievement, but the totality of creation.  It wasn’t about who got there first, but that everyone got there.  That is what I believe the Creator intended but we have even bastardized that to the point where we preach “us” against “them” as God’s favorites.  No matter what anyone says, the Holy plays no favorites.  All of creation belongs to the Creator—the call is to be “one”.

 

With that in mind, I probably need to work on keeping the competitive monster locked away.  Instead, I need to focus on enjoying the race . . . enjoying the people . . . enjoy watching how all the pieces fit and work together . . . striving to be the best that they can be.  Striving to cheer everyone across the finish line.  It is a long race, this thing we call life, and it sure helps having someone cheering you along.

 

As I said, I’m not going to go out on top when the end comes.  Nope, I will be lucky if I am 11,397,521,198^th.  I’ll take that participation trophy with pride as an acknowledgement that I made it, and someone noticed my effort.  It’s not whether I win or lose, it’s how I run the race.  How we all run the race.  That’s what matters.  May we all run to our greatest potential.  That is what makes the Creator smile . . . not winning . . . not losing . . . participating.

 

Kind of Like My Odds

One in 4,294,967,296 of winning . . . I kind of like my odds at winning this year’s March Madness basketball brackets.  The payout . . . a cool one billion dollars.  Yeah, you read that correctly . . . one billion dollars.  Billionaire Warren Buffet  and Quicken Loans are offering a billion dollars to anyone who can pick a perfect bracket . . . that means picking the winners of all 63 games in this year’s NCAA men’s college basketball tournament.  They will pay any person who picks a perfect bracket one billion dollars . . . either in 40 annual installments of $25 million or a lump sum payment of $500 million . . . I will take my winnings in the annual installment plan.  That is how much I like my odds of winning . . . only one in 4,294,967,296.

I have already informed the family that I will be willing to share the wealth once I win . . . I think I will be able to afford to spread a couple of million here and there to help everyone out.  I have also contacted the bank to see whether or not they can handle the annual deposits of $25 million . . . they are checking into it as they have never had anyone make a deposit that big before.  That should get a whole bunch of free toasters!  I have not informed the Internal Revenue Service yet . . . I am sure they will know well before I ever get the first check for winning . . . they will probably take half of it before it ever hits the bank.  But, the point is, I am already making the necessary plans to receive my financial windfall when I win.  Heck, it is only one in 4,294,967,296 . . . pretty darn good odds!

Well, maybe they are not the best odds . . . but, I like them.  I imagine that I would have better odds of bowling a perfect game at 11,500 to one.  If I played golf, the odds that I would get a hole in one is only 5,000 to one.  Dating a super model (these are really lousy odds because the wife has already told me, NO!) is 88,000 to one.  This is would be a good one if they were offering a billion dollars . . . drowning in a bathtub is 685,000 to one . . . good thing I only take showers.  This one I would have won a long time ago . . . getting hemorrhoids at 25 to one.  At 11,500 to one, I have a better chance of winning an Academy Award.  Striking it rich on Antique Roadshow is 60,000 to one . . . getting a ticket to be on Antique Roadshow is like a billion to one.  Yeah, there are things out there with better odds than picking a perfect bracket in the NCAA men’s basketball tournament; but, I just have that feeling that this is my year.

Shoot!  I have never won anything . . . it is my turn.  I can just feel it.  Now, all I have to do is play . . . me and the first ten million people to submit a bracket when they open up on March 3^rd.  Plus, I have to be faster than the rest of the family in the house . . . there is only one bracket per household.  I have already threatened my family that I will cut them out if they submit a bracket from our address . . . just more money for me!  Whatever the case, I want to make sure that I submit a bracket.  I do not want to be like the guy who kept praying to God to help him win the lottery . . . finally God had to tell the guy that he had to buy a ticket if he wanted God’s help in winning.  I will get a bracket in . . . come hell or high water or even knocking off a few of my children . . . I will be one of the ten million.

Now, you are probably thinking that I am a fool for even thinking that I could ever pick a perfect bracket . . . that I would ever win a billion dollars; but, this is a no lose situation.  Let me explain.  Buffet is a smart business person and he is going into this knowing his risk.  He has already stated that he would probably strike a deal with potential winners before they actually get to the final game . . . or, as he stated, “I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse.”  I have decided that I would save Mr. Buffet a whole lot of time and effort by striking a deal with him now . . . I’ll take a cool couple of thousand right now.  If he would do that, I won’t enter the contest.  Sounds good to me.  We both win! 

With a couple of thousand I can take the wife on a vacation . . . feed the whole family at Red Lobster . . . drop a little in the collection plate at church . . . and, still have enough left over for lunch a couple of times at work.  Either way, how can I lose?  I get some cash either way . . . even at 4,294,967,296 to one odds.  I kind like my chances . . . I’m putting all my money on the Cornell Big Red!  Go Big Red . . . a billion dollars is riding on you!

Solitaire

Three percent . . . that is my winning percentage at Solitaire this go round.  I play Solitaire on my computer—a hundred games a round.  After 67 games of Solitaire my winning percentage is three percent.  This is about the worse percentage I have ever had in playing Solitaire on the computer. 

I think the computer switched dealers on me.  Typically I have an average winning percentage of around ten percent . . . but it has been many months since I have seen any number close to that.  For some reason the games have gotten more and more difficult to win.  I know that it is not my lousy play . . . it has to be the fact that the computer switched dealers. 

Solitaire is the game that I play when I have a few minutes to kill when I am on my computer at home.  I do not play it at work as it would be too distracting . . . not for me, but for my co-workers.  I do not think that they could handle the constant swearing that would be coming out of my office.  As a courtesy to my co-workers I have refrained from playing the game at work.  For the most part I think that they are thankful and continue to put up with my other idiosyncrasies with grace . . . besides they hear enough swearing out of my mouth about other things.  Work seems to bring out the best of my laments and whines!  We have a lot of cheese at work.

Still, three percent is terrible . . . it is embarrassing.  I never tell anyone about my playing of Solitaire because they might want to know what my winning percentage is.  Three percent!  The laughing would deflate my already deflated ego . . . three percent!  How can a computer whip my butt to the tune of 97 percent?  It must be that new dealer.  That is the only thing that it could be because I am a good Solitaire player—no one ever helps me.  I do this all on my own . . . isn’t that why they call it “solitaire”? 

The law of averages—which I seem to have broken quite often with my lousy playing, would figure out to be at least fifty percent.  In flipping a coin there is a fifty/fifty odds that it will either be heads or tails.  In Solitaire you either win or lose . . . doesn’t that make it a fifty/fifty proposition?  So one would think that after a hundred games I would have won at least half the time instead of 97 percent of the time!  Someone tried to explain it to me that because there are 52 cards in the deck used in Solitaire there are millions (if not billions) of combinations that could take place . . . thus making it difficult to win.  I think that is hogwash!  You either win or lose—that, my friends, makes it a fifty/fifty proposition.

I once told my son-in-law what my winning percentage was in Solitaire.  The news was received with this look of unbelief and bewilderment . . . like he didn’t believe me.  Like he couldn’t believe that it was so low . . . like his was somewhere around 60 or 70 percent.  He just smiled and walked away leaving me confused.  Confused that someone like me with twenty-two years of education, a college degree, and two master’s degree could only be winning three percent of the time.  I think he expected more from his father-in-law.  I don’t tell the son-in-law anything now . . . I have my dignity to protect!  As smart as I am, the problem couldn’t be me . . . it is that dealer hidden in my computer.

I checked all the settings on my computer . . . but they are the same.  I checked myself out . . . older, but better, but still the same.  There are no weeds growing in the ol’ rock garden yet.  I have had no blows to the head.  I can still see fairly well even with tri-focal lenses.  So the problem is not me.  It has to be some sort of conspiracy by Mircrosoft . . . some sort of counter in the computer that keeps track of one’s wins while playing Solitaire.  Get too many wins and it switches dealers on you.  That is the only explanation I can accept.

Now, humans created the computer and the game of Solitaire.  Humans created it all.  I have a firm belief that no machine should ever beat its creator.  After all, we humans created it all.  Yet, the stinking computer keeps whipping my butt at a rate of 97 percent.  I am getting tired of losing and losing big time.  The darn computer has even taken to teasing me . . . letting me get within a couple of cards of winning and then pulling the plug on me.  That really makes me mad . . . mad enough that I have threatened to pull its plug!  No machine should ever beat its creator!

I once won on the very first game of a new round.  I was tempted—really tempted, of quitting the game forever at that point.  At that point my winning percentage was a hundred percent . . . it was perfect.  I would have been at the top . . . king of Solitaire . . . victor and master of the game.  But I didn’t.  I got greedy and played on—99 more times to the tune of a three percent winning rate.  I figure at this rate I will eventually end up at 100 percent after 33 rounds . . . if I add up all the times I only win three percent of the time.  I can hear the computer snickering at me now . . . it must be the dealer hidden in the bowels of the computer . . . darn computer!  When will I ever learn? Quit while you’re ahead!