Everybody's a Winner

I've heard my generation occasionally referred to as the "overpraised generation". I usually hate when they name generations like that because it's so generalizing and usually judgmental. But in this case, I have to agree.

Nobody loses anymore. I think to be a well-rounded and well-functioning human being, you have to lose sometimes. After all, you can't know the joy of victory if you don't know the sting of defeat.

Even as a little kid, I hated those "everybody gets a prize" games. It cheapens the prize. Why work at all if you get the same result no matter the amount of effort? I never considered myself overly competitive, but a little competition is fun and healthy.

Why did we eliminate "loss" from our vocabularies? Because somebody's feelings might get hurt. Well, I hate to break it to all those parent-by-the-self-help-book parents, but the kid is going to come up short eventually and because they never had to deal with second place growing up, they're not going to know how to deal with it. Instead of being a little kid crying at the end of his first youth league basketball game, he'll be a grown man crying when he doesn't get a promotion at work. Which is better?

Whenever my dad's side of the family gets together, a game of 500 Rummy always commences. I don't remember ever not knowing how to play 500 Rummy. I think it's an instinctive familial gene. Anyway, this weekend was no different. I have horrible luck in cards, and I was in a very distant fourth place. I'm talking negative numbers. But I was still having a lot of fun, talking trash with my grandparents. I know a lot of kids that could not have fun in last place.

I appreciate the fact that my parents (and grandparents!) have always let me lose. Dad never let me win 500 Rummy once in my life, even when I was very young. I am bad at sports, so knowing how to lose is invaluable skill.

Family tradition states that the person that wins has to sign the bottom of the page "El Champo" and the score sheet hangs on the nearest refrigerator until the next rematch. When we left my grandparents' house this weekend, three sheets hung on the fridge, none of which with my name signed at the bottom. But I still could reflect positively on the whole weekend. Thanks, Mom and Dad, for making an expection of me, a member of the "overpraised generation."