My Son, The Loser

Not a loser in the derogatory sense that would breed shame and embarrassment in his parents like a glowing ember of humiliation fanned by the winds of failure. At least I hope not. We haven’t even met the kid yet. 

But I plan on seeing to it that he loses. I’m going to beat my son at board games, sports, video games, races, eating contests, etc. I’m going to beat my kid at a bunch of different things. Not all the time. And not because I need to prove I’m Dad every chance I get. Not to make sure my son knows his place in our relationship. Not to break his spirit. But because I think it’s important for him to know that just showing up won’t get him very far. Just because he’s playing Daddy, he should probably win because Daddy will take it easy.

In what seems to be an ever-increasing requirement to make sure that everyone gets a participation ribbon, I want my son to know the value in losing. I want him to hate it with a passion. I want him to understand that just because he “puts his mind to it,” doesn’t mean he’s guaranteed anything. I want him to figure out at an early age, that if he tries and fails he either needs to work hard to hone his skills to get better (if it’s something he cares about) or realize maybe he wasn’t meant to be good at that particular thing. To me, that’s nothing to be ashamed of. Why waste time beating a square peg into a round hole, especially when that peg is you?

I think it’s a mistake to lead our children to believe that all they have to do is try and everything will turn out ok. Hustle and hard work are very redeeming qualities but at some point you have to realize you can’t make that 20 yard out route throw from the far hash required to be an NFL quarterback. Or you can’t hit a Major League cut fastball. Or you aren’t built to give entertaining, useful speeches to large crowds, or be on TV, or crab fish off the Alaskan Coast, or empathize with those in pain, or cold call.

At some point, talent and passion come into play. Sure, with hard work and plenty of hours, talent can be improved upon, but to what extent? Not everyone is born with the exact same capacity to be great at everything like it’s merely a matter of filling up the varying potential they’re born with.  And, more importantly, what is the opportunity cost of working so hard on something you don’t enjoy, or don’t have a passion for, or weren’t meant to do? Time is a zero-sum game. Devoting more of it to one thing means less of it to spend on other things, perhaps more important things.

Losing provides many invaluable lessons, perhaps the greatest is in figuring out what you’re not meant to do. So I’ll see to it that my son loses. But more importantly, I’ll be there to explain the benefits.