Sportsmanship.
Some people think it's the award they give to the fat kid on the team, or a way for the coach to play favorites with his pet, or whatever.
I disagree.
Because it's not everything to be the best athlete. In fact, sometimes the best athlete is a real asshole.
In saying that, I may be indicating a twinge of jealousy. Sure, I'm absolutely jealous of the star athletes for which their sport comes easily. I was always the kid grinding away in the gym for endless extra hours, just to be delighted with a third or ninth or last place finish. I wasn't a natural talent in any of the sports I tried, but I toiled and tried anyway. I was never really jealous along the way, but I sure looked up to the teammates who just seemed to get it.
The jelly monster only really came out when those teammates didn't seem to care, or realize just what they had. When they'd throw it all away through blind stupidity. Smoking in the locker room. Doing drugs. Getting kicked off the team for failing grades. Maybe an assault charge or DUI to boot. It seems to be a rite of passage for these champion athletes, coveted and respected by so many people, to blow it all in a fiery crash-and-burn of their celebrity. That's when my jelly monster gets truly angry.
But we love to see the drama, don't we? We wouldn't care as much if they weren't former superstars, if they weren't someone to look up to. Bad news is juicier than good news. Victories are more glorious if there's a struggle and a saga. Celebrity failures are littered all over the telly, often getting more attention than their successful and clean-cut counterparts. We secretly love to see the winner fall, to see their glitter fade.
Not me. I like to see my winners act like winners.
Some people think it's the award they give to the fat kid on the team, or a way for the coach to play favorites with his pet, or whatever.
I disagree.
Because it's not everything to be the best athlete. In fact, sometimes the best athlete is a real asshole.
In saying that, I may be indicating a twinge of jealousy. Sure, I'm absolutely jealous of the star athletes for which their sport comes easily. I was always the kid grinding away in the gym for endless extra hours, just to be delighted with a third or ninth or last place finish. I wasn't a natural talent in any of the sports I tried, but I toiled and tried anyway. I was never really jealous along the way, but I sure looked up to the teammates who just seemed to get it.
The jelly monster only really came out when those teammates didn't seem to care, or realize just what they had. When they'd throw it all away through blind stupidity. Smoking in the locker room. Doing drugs. Getting kicked off the team for failing grades. Maybe an assault charge or DUI to boot. It seems to be a rite of passage for these champion athletes, coveted and respected by so many people, to blow it all in a fiery crash-and-burn of their celebrity. That's when my jelly monster gets truly angry.
But we love to see the drama, don't we? We wouldn't care as much if they weren't former superstars, if they weren't someone to look up to. Bad news is juicier than good news. Victories are more glorious if there's a struggle and a saga. Celebrity failures are littered all over the telly, often getting more attention than their successful and clean-cut counterparts. We secretly love to see the winner fall, to see their glitter fade.
Not me. I like to see my winners act like winners.
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