No competition for competitive sports

Noncompetitive sports. An oxymoron if I have ever heard one.

It’s a theory I hear on youth playing fields, and one I’ve read

about in newspapers. Heck, some cities have entire leagues devoted to

the concept that nobody wins and nobody loses.

If you are one of those people who believe sports should be played

“just for fun,” or one of those people who think soccer would be

better if nobody kept score, stop reading now. Any further perusal of

this column may cause your heart rate to quicken or your temper to

slightly flare. It could even inspire you to strike back with a

letter to the editor -- all of which would prove your competitive

nature and further prove my point.

What is my point? I’m glad you asked.

My point is that competition has gotten a bad rap.

All this whining about how unfair athletic competition is --

mostly by parents who insist their children remain in sports despite

all evidence they are not athletes -- is completely absurd. All this

complaining about coaches who, gasp, expect execution has got to

stop. Since when is having a winning attitude a bad thing?

Of course, there is a line between constructive criticism and

maniacal behavior. No parent or child should be screaming

profanities. And yes, I will agree that at the wee ages, when

youngsters are still trying to feel out their athletic ability, it is

crucial to encourage all participation, even scoring a touchdown for

the wrong team.

But once you’ve reached 12 (boys and girls) it’s time to take

sports for what it is -- strategic competition, based on athletic

ability and winning.

If little Trevor gets a talkin’ to because he dropped a routine

fly ball, so be it. It’s part of the game. If he’s not good at the

game, he doesn’t have to play in a league that keeps standings and

statistics and rewards stellar play.

There is a reason organized sports keep score: To track the

winners and the losers. The goal is to win. How does one win? By not

losing. And how to you keep from losing? You expect the best, perform

like a champion and don’t settle for less.

Part of that is understanding that dropping a routine fly ball is

unacceptable. You must realize that your teammates, your coach and

your parents expect more from you. (You should expect more from

yourself, also.)

No, not because they are heartless egomaniacs playing out their

childhood fantasies, but because they know you are too good to settle

for mediocrity.

So, Trevor dropped an easy fly ball. Two things can happen. I’ll

give you the “It’s OK, sweetie” version first.

The ball has just hit the ground and the runner is safe at first.

Coach Del Akit smiles and gives the little guy the old thumbs up.

Mommy yells, “Better luck next time,” from the stands. The first

baseman turns to him and says, “good try, Trev.”

Trevor feels good -- all warm and fuzzy inside. The pitcher gets

them out of the inning, no harm, no foul. Trevor smiles and skips all

the way back to the dugout. They lose because mistakes are acceptable

and it’s all about fun, anyway.

Coach Del Akit doesn’t make him take a dozen fly balls after the

game, nor does he enlist the “five push-ups-for-every-ball-

you-drop-in-practice” rule. Trevor never learns from his error and

neither do the other kids from theirs. The team comes in last place

and they are all OK with that because “they had fun trying” (insert

cheesy grin, with sparkling tooth here).

The problem is, they never really “tried” at anything. They were

just going through the motions, making sure nobody’s feelings got

hurt and hoping for better “luck” next time.

Winners know you make your own luck. Here is their perspective:

The ball has just made its indentation in the brick dust and the

runner is safe at first. Fighting his flaring, competitive nature,

Coach Vick Torius clenches his teeth and slaps his clipboard against

his thigh.

“Hey Trevor!” he shouts, “That was an easy out. Don’t let it

happen again.” Mom stays quiet, knowing it is the coaches job to

discipline the players. The first baseman turns around and angrily

shouts to the entire team, “All right, two down. Let’s go, huh?”

Trevor’s cheeks are red. He is mad at himself. He pounds his mitt

and digs his heels in, shaking off his mistake and readying to redeem

himself. He dives for the next ball hit to him, a screaming line

drive down the middle. He can’t turn it around in time to get the

runner at first, but he saved a run from scoring. The pitcher gets

them out of the inning and Trevor takes his fire to the plate, still

anxious to compensate for that missed fly ball.

After the game he willingly takes a dozen fly balls and asks for

another dozen of hard grounders. At practice, he is not required to

do a single push-up because he doesn’t miss -- neither do the others.

The team is in the running for league championships and have more

than their fair share of all-stars (Trevor is one of them). Next year

will be even better.

Notice nowhere in that scenario did coach Vick Torius scream at

Trevor or curse at him. The parents in the stands did not boo and

hiss and say, “Who’s freakin’ kid is that?” That is un-sportsmanlike

and completely unacceptable. But please, don’t get it confused with

being competitive.

Competition is the cornerstone of sports and a good skill to learn

in life.

Competition is the cornerstone of our society. Survival of the

fittest. The open market. Team spirit (also known in wartime as

patriotism.) Being No. 1. All of these things are imperative to

success.

If a sales representative loses a large account, nobody is going

to say, “Better luck next time.” If a scholarship student drops below

the required 3.6 grade point average to maintain funding, nobody is

going to smile and say, “Good try. Here’s another $20,000.”

My grandpa told me that “nothing worth doing is ever easy.” That

means it’s not always fun.

Right now, the naysayers (I told you to stop reading) are saying,

“It’s just a game, it’s not comparable with work or academics.” Those

are the ones who don’t get it, the ones who want a noncompetitive

atmosphere.

Playing sports is hard work. You must be physically and mentally

strong. You must be comfortable with winning big and extremely

bothered by losing. And you’d better thrive on competing for a

starting position, the highest slugging percentage, league

championships, regional, state, national ... .

If competition is not your cup of tea, that’s fine. Nobody will be

angry that Trevor is missing from next season’s Little League roster.

Perhaps he is better suited for music, astrology, acting or art, all

of which are wonderful pastimes and very important for a balanced

society (and may involve a different kind of competition).

If he still likes baseball but doesn’t like the adrenaline-

pumping pressure of being in the batter’s box with runners in scoring

position, take him out to the park every weekend for some fun batting

practice.

But please, don’t try to weaken organized athletics by removing

difficult challenges, let-downs and bittersweet lessons. It’s not all

fun and games -- it’s sports.

* LOLITA HARPER writes columns Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays and

covers culture and the arts. She may be reached at (949) 574-4275 or

by e-mail at lolita.harper@latimes.com.