Failure Isn't Fatal

   The morning after the Super Bowl debacle, I texted my sister Dolores- a loyal Broncos fan- to offer my sincere condolences for the heartbreaking defeat her beloved team suffered at the hands of the Seattle “Sea Chickens” (as we here in Denver refer to them).  She was virtually speechless with shock and disappointment,

 “I could almost hate them” she spewed, “they are a disgrace to themselves and their fans.”

      I’m sure psychologists have a field day analyzing why people get so riled up about a game.  As anyone in my family will tell you, I'm not a sports fan, but even  I got caught up in all the hoopla preceding the big game (though I refused to wear orange).  Like most people,  I really wanted my home team to win and do Denver proud. I was amazed at how heartsick I felt when the Broncos fell flat on their face in front of the whole world.  The whole thing has prompted me to look at my attitude towards competition and failure and what it all means.  

        I speak with absolutely no authority when I theorize that a lot of fans pin their hopes and dreams onto these young players. Maybe that's why when they take it so personally when their team loses.   They believe that it somehow reflects on them.   I used to be critical of the ridiculous amount of money that professional athletes get paid for throwing a ball and getting banged up, but lately I’ve been thinking that they definitely earn their keep trying to fulfill the expectations of a society that worships at the altar of achievement.

     Let’s face it.  Everyone loves a winner.   My parents, bless their soul, were proud of all of their children’s achievements—I remember them carrying around a plastic bag containing newspaper articles and video clips touting our successes which they would show to anyone who demonstrated interest.    I used to be obsessed with winning awards, just so my parents would brag about me as much as they bragged about my very accomplished siblings.  In my mind, accomplishment could be used as currency which would win me love and approval.   I began to link success with self-worth—a gross misinterpretation that haunts me to this day.  

      I don't remember my parents or teachers ever encouraging me to get out there and fail.   Instead, I got the unspoken message that failure is a shameful humiliation to be avoided at all costs.   Fear of failure for me is like an unwelcome guest that periodically shows up on my doorstep to discourage me from venturing beyond my comfort zone.  I'll just bet I'm not alone in this struggle.   

     Last week, Peyton Manning’s Dad told the media that his son has always tried to maintain a healthy perspective on his career by focusing on his love for the game.   Win or lose, he remains at peace with himself. Personally, I find this attitude way more inspiring than any championship.  Consider for a moment how liberating it would be if we didn't allow any outcome to determine our self-worth; if we viewed victory and defeat as flip sides of the same coin—you can't have one without the other. 

 Some of the greatest men who ever walked this planet would probably tell you that their failures, excruciatingly painful as they can be, taught them how to become a stronger and better person.  Without a doubt, they disappointed and let people down but what made them great was that they refused to allow their defeats to define them; they had the grace to learn from their mistakes and  the courage to stay true to their dreams even in the face of public derision.   

       A very wise basketball coach named John Wooden once said, “Failure is not fatal, but failure to change might be.”   Small consolation for those fans who are still licking their wounds, but hey, there's always next year!