It’s hard to remember this in the medal-hunt frenzy of the Olympic Games but sometimes you can win while losing.
On the last day of the Paris Games, Kinzang Lhamo was the last person to cross the finish line of the women’s marathon, about an hour-and-a-half behind the winner. As she crossed the line, the spectators rose to their feet to cheer her. Lhamo, the only woman in the three-member Bhutan team, taking part in her first Olympics, embodied, as a media report noted, what Pierre de Coubertin, the father of modern Olympics, meant when he said the important thing is “not winning but taking part”.
It’s hard to keep remembering that and not be devastated by mishaps — dropping the baton in a relay, scoring a same-side goal or having a crossbar-crotch collision while trying to pole vault.
The anguish of the sportsperson who came in fourth, missing out on a podium finish by a whisker, is palpable even on television. But there’s coming fourth and then there’s coming last. As pop philosopher ABBA sang: The winner takes it all, the loser’s standing small, beside the victory, that’s her destiny.
I understand that feeling only too well. I was the one who straggled in behind everyone else in school sports even in the sack race or the three-legged race. I was the boy chosen last for any team when we played cricket during recess. And terrified of flubbing the catch and letting down the team, I secretly prayed to be banished to some part of the field where no ball would ever come.
No excuses
Now imagine letting down your country in front of millions. When Australia’s Rachael “Raygun” Gunn became the roast of social media after her performance in the new breaking category at the Paris Olympics, I laughed along with everyone else but cringed as well. To have the world’s eyes on you, mocking your moves, giving them names like kangaroo hopping, crab walk and chin-holding squirms must have stung. As Raygun seemed to jackknife on the floor, users gleefully shared clips of Madhuri Dixit writhing on the floor in an old Bollywood film.
Gunn lost all three of her round-robin contests with 18-0 scores, failing to get even a single vote from the judges. The trolling was so intense the World DanceSport Federation offered her mental health support.
But Gunn didn’t whine about anything. She was truly a sport. She just said, “All my moves are original. Sometimes it speaks to the judges, and sometimes it doesn’t. I do my thing.” She showed up at the closing ceremony as well, grinning and jiving, carried aloft on the shoulders of a beaming teammate. She looked like she was having the time of her life. That felt like a real high.
This does not mean a country of India’s size should not be doing better at the Olympics. Far from it. But to lose without recriminations and excuses is also a sign of class. When Rafael Nadal lost to Novak Djokovic in straight sets at the Olympics, he didn’t blame anything or anyone. He just said, “I come here, I try my best, I play.” Of course, Nadal who already has two Olympic golds, unlike Raygun, does not have anything left to prove. But still, not everyone, veteran or newbie, can take a loss on the chin with such dignity. It’s a skill worth learning.
Empathy is hard
It’s also worth learning how to offer support to the loser. Congratulations to a winner come easy, empathy for the loser is harder. When wrestler Vinesh Phogat was disqualified on the cusp of a medal, Prime Minister Narendra Modi showed that empathy when he tweeted: “Come back stronger! We are all rooting for you.” But MP Hema Malini seemed less empathetic when she said she felt sad but added: “I wish she loses that 100 grams quickly. Lekin milega nahin abhi kuch [But she won’t get anything now].” She just came across as tone-deaf unlike Phogat’s fellow Olympian Neeraj Chopra who said people forget those who lose but, “I just hope whether she gets a medal or not, people don’t forget what she did for her country”.
The real winner though was Chopra’s mother Saroj Devi who brushed aside any disappointments about her son’s silver versus Pakistani Arshad Nadeem’s gold by simply saying Nadeem too was like a son to her. Nadeem’s mother Raziah Parveen responded saying: “Winning and losing is part of sport, but they are like brothers.”
We are trained from the beginning on how to win but no one teaches us how to lose even though life often comes with more losses than wins. To lose with grace is also the mark of true champions.
Now if only someone had told me that when I was flailing in that sack race.
The columnist is the author of ‘Don’t Let Him Know’, and likes to let everyone know about his opinions whether asked or not.
Published - August 16, 2024 10:30 am IST