Competitive edge widens with a little show of class

This is an unusual column to write. Normally, when composing a keyboard commentary, I've got momentum in my thoughts -- meaning that I'm usually expounding further on a topic I've had opinions on for a long time.

Not so today. There's no tailwind. It's calm, in more ways than one.

Maybe it stems from an epiphany I had in the crawl space last week, when the warm weather inspired me to pull the old golf clubs out of hibernation.

I also found a few skeletons in that concrete cavern. Where was the head to my 3-wood? Only the shaft remained.

Oh, and I'd forgotten about the cracked 5-wood and the shaft-bent 7-iron. Those will need to be fixed as well. At least my driver was able to hide its bruises.

And then I thought ... why? Why, in a moment of competitive angst, did I make a bad shot even worse? With damaged gear as evidence, I'm still being penalized, all of it self-imposed.

Privately, in the depth of that crawl space, I felt ashamed and embarrassed -- because my memories of that golf tournament were wonderful. Good friends, a lot of good shots between the bad ones, lots of good-natured ribbing and lots of laughs. I can't even begin to remember where I finished on the leaderboard. In retrospect, it was irrelevant compared to the overall memory.

Yet, for the moment anyway, the happy recollections were blurred by this flashback of frustration reflected in my wounded golf clubs.

I'm proud to say, however, that it was an isolated outburst years ago that has not been repeated.

Unfortunately, at far too many sporting events, I see the equivalent of golf-club-breaking behavior; mostly parents and coaches, but a fair share of players as well.

Like me, their rationalizations revolve around "being competitive" and staying ahead of the next guy, or the next girl, or the next team, no matter what it takes.

"I'm a competitor."

If I've heard that once, I've heard it 8,436 times over the years.

Aren't we all competitors? You bet. We all want to be the first in line. We all want our kids to shine above the rest. We all want to make more money.

It's just that everybody expresses that drive in very different ways. Some are intensely demonstrative. Some are steely and stoic.

And then there are those who are just plain overboard and try to excuse their over-zealous actions as passionate, heat-of-the-moment competitiveness.

Maybe that's what it really is for them, but competition is meant to bring out the best in its participants, not the worst.

I've seen it at high school sporting events everywhere. It's certainly not exclusive to our area. Go to any sporting event, anywhere, at any level of play, and you can find evidence of competitive dysfunction.

This isn't a rap against emotional expression. I love players and coaches and fans who put their hearts on display. When channeled properly, emotion is a big part of those magic moments that make sports special.

I just grow tired of the win-at-all-costs mentality that seems to make some believe that competition can only be cutthroat, viewed through a good vs. evil lens that takes a derogatory view of the competition.

"Hate. Kill. Destroy. Kick their %&!" Pregame fireup talk, I know, but it makes the spirit of competition sound more like a angry grudge that's degenerated into a street fight.

I've long admired two of this area's finest high school coaches for the grace and leadership they exhibit as role models to young student athletes. Batavia's Mike Gaspari and Aurora Christian's Don Davidson are true competitors with class -- not just on game nights when the entire town is watching -- but in their entire approach to sports.

Outwardly, their demeanor is calm and unwavering. By today's standards, many might view them as passive or lacking in intensity because they don't put on the theatrics and histrionics of their "hyper-competitive" peers.

But I can confidently say they have a bonfire burning inside. Not just your average, fire-in-the-belly. They're two of the winningest coaches this area has seen. You bet they're competitive. They're winners not just because they win, but for how they win.

So there I am, back in the crawl space, thinking this whole column through. And I realize that competition is a constant challenge to be met. It will never be conquered, because the bar is continually raised.

Beating the competition is a lifelong pursuit. But it's not just about beating somebody else, or topping another team or mastering a skill. It's about making myself and my team and my skill better each time -- and enjoying the challenge, win or lose. Because that makes it better for all -- even my opponents that I have (hopefully) defeated.