Sports and Life

   It’s no secret that I love many sports. I can’t get enough of the NFL or the NBA. I love playing sports, too. I hate that we reach an age where there really are no organized leagues for us to play in. That might sound odd. We’re supposed to put childish things away as we get older. We’re not supposed to want to keep catching passes or grabbing rebounds, but a large part of me does. I guess it’s because of what organized sports mean to me. We glorify sports stars for a lot of things, but losing isn’t one of them. Sometimes that’s unfortunate because sports taught me exactly how to live life. It wasn’t through a trophy or some type of unending will. It didn’t even involve giving me confidence. It involved a loss that was truly crushing.

   In life, we all have a clock that’s ticking. We don’t know when it’s going to run out, but eventually, it will. We’re mortal, and we don’t like to think about it. When I was thirteen, I remember facing a clock that meant a lot to me but seemed to mean little to anyone else. A youth league football team that I was playing on was sitting on the sideline in utter defeat as we faced a 30-0 deficit at halftime. It was hopeless. The guys we were against were bigger, faster, and just plain better in every way you can think of. We were defeated, and there was nothing we could do about it. Our coach asked us if we wanted to quit. We discussed it. Many were ready to go home. In a rare moment, I was outspoken. I’m not comfortable talking in large crowds, but I told the guys we just had to believe that something could change. I was met by sarcasm and even laughter. They had made their decision, or at least a few of them had. Unfortunately, the loudest people are usually the rudest. At least we still had enough people willing to play, though, because we didn’t forfeit. 

   As we took the field, I made a decision. I wasn’t going to watch the clock, and for every single moment that I had left on the field, I was going to give everything I had. It didn’t matter how everything ended. This was a game I loved, and why wouldn’t I give everything I had to it? I had a meager 4 tackles and no other stats going into that half. I ended the game with 18 tackles, 2 sacks, and a fumble recovery. I also made a block that I thought was key. Some of our other players seemed to step up, too, especially our quarterback. To make a long story short, we lost 30-14. It was unwinnable at that point, but we beat them for a half. More than that, I think that was a defining moment for every kid there. We learned who we were and who we should be. I could keep talking about sports here, but I’m not going to. This story wasn’t about football. It was about the fact that there’s a clock ticking for every one of us. None of us get out of this life alive. No matter how hard we try, we’re going to lose the fight one day, but should that give you a reason to check out early? Should it even give you a reason to let fear petrify you? It would have been easy for a thirteen year old me to be scared of people who obviously were stronger and faster than me, but I wasn’t. I fought until there was no more time left. At the ultimate end of our season, my biggest memories weren’t about our defeats either. They were about the good relationships I formed, the triumphs, and the obstacles that I had to fight to overcome regardless of whether I was successful. Don’t let life’s obstacles and ultimate defeat keep you from forming those relationships. There will be naysayers, and there will be people who knock you down over and over again. You will lose, and all of it will mean nothing one day, but for one tiny moment, every decision you make matters. The decision to fight or love can change a moment, and it can even change a lifetime. In the course of history, our existence is nothing more than a speck of dust, but it’s our speck. It’s ours to choose to fight for or to passively watch as it goes by.

   I learned something about myself way back then. I’m an excellent loser. I give it all, and sometimes that’s not good enough for some people. Your parents and coaches preach good sportsmanship and working together as a team to win. Rarely do they tell you that the game you love so much is the perfect metaphor for life. You will triumph, and you will have your days where everything seems to go your way, but no matter how good you are, someone will knock you off of your perch. You’ll have to pick yourself up over and over again just to go back into situations that are unpredictable and sometimes even scary. Then one day it’ll all be over. What you do in those moments where you see it all coming to a close will be what defines you, though? Did you motivate people, learn, impart knowledge, love, persevere, cry, find faith, and refuse to give less than you had left? If you didn’t, maybe you didn’t play the game of life the way it was meant to be played. We’re all fighting a losing battle, but if you’re reading this, it’s not over. Maybe you’re in the first quarter and there’s still plenty of time on your side, but maybe you can see the clock expiring right before your eyes. It’s still not too late. A kind word, lending a hand to someone in need, love that asks nothing in return, truly allowing yourself to feel, a new hobby, a dream that others would scoff at, and a decision to fight a clock that will beat you anyway . . . THOSE are the only things it takes to change everything about your world today. Find that spark - that motivation - and when you do, never let go of it until God decides it’s time for your beaten and broken body to finally rest. If you do that, you’ll never know regret, even in defeat.