Those who care about youth sports and the virtues it extols nearly universally disparage the “Winning is everything” mentality. This approach to sport, they argue, prevents us from imparting the values and merits to the youth that are uniquely accessible through sport. But, it turns out, we actually need this meme lurking in the ethos of the sporting culture so that we can achieve the more profound virtues desired by youth sport advocates.
Vince Lombardi’s (in)famous aphorism best summarizes the concern:
“Winning isn’t everything; it’s the only thing [that matters].”1
Many athletes, fans and coaches often relate to sports as though following this mantra. But, as we zoom out, seeing the forest from the trees, we realize that winning a game is hardly the only thing that matters. In the world of youth sports, very few deathbed confessionals report reflections such as, “I wish I’d won more games.”2
This juxtaposition provides a subtle yet rich tension within the youth sports arena. And it turns out that the undercurrent of the “winning is the only thing” culture allows us to achieve the real riches of sport in the first place.
The mantra itself serves as a double-edged sword. If winning truly didn’t matter, then there would be little chance for any of the boundless virtues achievable in sport. Without “everything” at stake in a game, how could one show courage or fortitude? Doing the right thing in the face of losing the “only thing that matters” provides a genuine opportunity for character-building. By portraying sport as a life-or-death matter, we can experience profound greatness in the artificial face of death without the actual risk of dying.
So, in a sense, we need this overzealous, imbalanced view of sport to remain prevalent so that we can achieve what we know to actually be the things that matter. If winning didn’t matter, then we wouldn’t care so much when we read of the myriad virtuous actions and feats of character exhibited in sport. Here are just a few:
-In a collegiate softball game, Western Oregon’s Sara Tucholsky hits a homerun. As she rounds first base she tears a ligament and cannot walk. The umpires enforce the rule prohibiting a pinch runner to round the bases and also prohibiting a teammate’s assistance. Upon hearing this, two Central Washington infielders pick Tucholsky up off the ground and carry her from base to base so that the homerun can count.
-Umpire Jim Joyce clearly missed a call on the game’s final out to cause pitcher Armando Galarraga to miss being just the 21st pitcher in history to throw a perfect game—Galarraga then gave the umpire a signed ball as an act of forgiveness, commenting, “Nobody’s perfect.”
-And a most-famous story about the two runners in the 1976 Special Olympics who, upon seeing a fellow competitor fall and begin to cry, went to his aid to help him to the finish line, clearly adhering to the Games’ Oath: “Let me win. But if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt.”
Winning matters, and if it matters the most then these actions and all those like it provide even more profound meaning. One can really only exhibit bravery in the face of that which matters. The more something matters, the greater the nobility of the morally courageous act.
This tension forces us into an oxymoronic, though I argue tenable, position:
- Play the game as though winning were the only thing that matters.
- Know, intellectually, that winning isn’t the only thing that matters.
- In doing so, achieve the ideals in life which we do know are many of the things that do matter.
The Olympic Creed asserts that the essential thing is “to have fought well” with no mention of having conquered. Additionally it posits that the most important thing in life is the struggle and not the triumph. And in the comfort of our homes, as we cheer these athletes on, we recognize the insight of the Creed and the importance of the struggle. And with the meaning of winning so deeply entrenched in the sporting experience, both spectators and athletes alike can experience the deeper virtues within.
1 Originally attributed to UCLA football coach Henry Sanders.
2 If winning really is the only thing that matters, then, by definition nothing else matters. This quick logical handiwork commits the “winning is the only thing” proponent to a rather archaic, nihilistic view of sport and life.