I've always been competitive. Those who know me best might suggest that it is my most defining characteristic (top 5 for sure), though the negative aspects of a competitive spirit have been dramatically lessened in me over the last decade; a number of choice tales refuting this claim may yet exist but I will make it nonetheless.
Those who are hyper-competitive (and their loved ones) will easily acknowledge that losing is perhaps one of the hardest things to accept in life. Card games, sports, mental tests, whatever it might be, losing is always the worst possible outcome...
Before I'd even moved out to Mission years ago, I had heard the stories of another man's competitive streak and laughed at how seriously he would take on anything athletic. These stories received unequivocal confirmation when I saw him lacing up soccer cleats for the mens' 40-yard dash at the church picnic! This man knew how to compete!!
This past calendar year, I've encountered some dramatic changes, one of those being a return to Mission for work. I have been expecting the opportunity to re-ignite some friendships that had been left smoldering while life (and I) moved on, one of those being with the man mentioned above. In a year marked by significant losses (two grandparents and an uncle), one more was added to the record on Tuesday afternoon when Myron Berg perished in a car accident.
I hate to lose. And for reasons I'm finding difficult to pin down, this one hurts more than any of the others from these past months. There have been exceptional wins this season and I'm way above .500, but the losses have been painful and this one has been hard to let go. It's still fresh and the wound is far from closed... I hate to lose.
Nothing can change what has already occurred. It's done and the loss has been permanently etched in the books. The season is almost over, a new one is just around the corner and yet, even a successful season can't remove the taste of ending with such a bitter defeat. It sucks. And I can't really say much more.
R.I.P. Myron and keep those cleats dusted off, cause when I get Home someday, it's on.
Those who are hyper-competitive (and their loved ones) will easily acknowledge that losing is perhaps one of the hardest things to accept in life. Card games, sports, mental tests, whatever it might be, losing is always the worst possible outcome...
Before I'd even moved out to Mission years ago, I had heard the stories of another man's competitive streak and laughed at how seriously he would take on anything athletic. These stories received unequivocal confirmation when I saw him lacing up soccer cleats for the mens' 40-yard dash at the church picnic! This man knew how to compete!!
This past calendar year, I've encountered some dramatic changes, one of those being a return to Mission for work. I have been expecting the opportunity to re-ignite some friendships that had been left smoldering while life (and I) moved on, one of those being with the man mentioned above. In a year marked by significant losses (two grandparents and an uncle), one more was added to the record on Tuesday afternoon when Myron Berg perished in a car accident.
I hate to lose. And for reasons I'm finding difficult to pin down, this one hurts more than any of the others from these past months. There have been exceptional wins this season and I'm way above .500, but the losses have been painful and this one has been hard to let go. It's still fresh and the wound is far from closed... I hate to lose.
Nothing can change what has already occurred. It's done and the loss has been permanently etched in the books. The season is almost over, a new one is just around the corner and yet, even a successful season can't remove the taste of ending with such a bitter defeat. It sucks. And I can't really say much more.
R.I.P. Myron and keep those cleats dusted off, cause when I get Home someday, it's on.