I was always told that losing was a part of life. That it was just another lesson to be learnt, another path to follow and another harsh truth to accept. Great athletes and inspirational people talk about how it stings and how it weighs on you, but they speak of acceptance and moving forward as well…sometimes portraying it lightly, misrepresenting how difficult the process of loss can actually be.

 

I remember losses all too well. For one season playing Club Soccer, we were Favourites to win the comp. Our team had been undefeated for a large portion of the season and we were on a good track to finally win a Final. Then, three-quarters of the way into the season, we buckled. Our team failed at working as a unit, we weren’t playing our best and we began to lose week in and week out. Slowly, we lost our place on the ladder, eventually falling out of Final’s contention.

WE had promise, and although in hindsight, it was just a silly competition we played on weekends …it still hurt. It felt wasteful, and years later, I still think about how stupid we were to not realise our mistakes sooner.

I still taste all those defeats, not just from that year, but every game I played in. The images of the field kicked up with mud and grass, the chilly mornings where fog would pump out of our mouths like clouds, and the pain of stripping away your socks and shin pads before climbing into the shower with whatever energy you’d have left, trying your best to wash away whatever disappointment you felt.

When I think back at how silly I must’ve been, slamming my door shut and screaming into my pillow, I also remember the bitter taste of watching the other team celebrate and I’m reminded of how unsilly it actually was.

Losses are important, yes, but when losing becomes a pattern, your energy for everything else starts to drop. Motivation becomes scarce and the world around you starts to feel a little dull and almost worthless. You feel nothing more than a sack of meat and bone…no light, no motivation and no spark. Losses make zombies out of us all, and regardless of how positive one looks from the outside, you can guarantee that those losses eat them up on the inside.

 

I think the main lesson to be learnt is how to deal with it, because despite being turned into a zombie, in and amongst the bitter pill is the want and drive to never taste it again.
To do better, one reminds themselves of how bad they once were. They remind themselves of the mistakes they made, the trials they’ve fallen short on and the world that punished them for it. Maybe that’s what makes the journey to win so much harder…and maybe that’s why it all tastes a little sweeter in the end.

 

When I started playing soccer I was shit. I picked it up because my parents wanted me to try something new. They felt that laziness and a lack of competitive drive would create a slob, but they didn’t sign up for the result of what came after. The didn’t know how personal every loss would become and how every win would feel afterwards…and even though we didn’t win as much as I would’ve liked, it still felt good to experience a little taste of victory wherever and whenever it came.

In the end, we never one a final. In the end, we all slowly went our separate ways and tried our best to forget all those days and nights.  But the reality is we didn’t …we merely buried those memories in and amongst the shallow graves of the kicked up mud and grass of our minds.
But every once in a while it pops up, like an old photo in a family album, we see it again. Sometimes we see it  at life’s worst…but sometimes we see it when we need it. In and amongst the grind and hustle of our lives.
We see a flash of muddy boots frustratingly being thrown into a brick wall, or an opposing team huddle up to celebrate a win…and then we remember why we keep working…to never feel like a loser again.