The Thrill of Victory

You know what I love?  Winning.  I'm not one of these crazy-competitive people -- I don't toss the board across the room if I lose at Trivial Pursuit or anything -- but I do take great pleasure in the rush of crossing a finish line, metaphorical or otherwise, first. 

In ballet, I had a perverse love for auditions.  I'd carefully pin my number to my white leotard (white showed my pretty bones and sinews best) and glide into the studio with a mass of pencil-thin girls.  Sometimes they'd have us line up in the middle of the room and cut half of the group based solely on bodies, looks, or posture.  Sometimes there would be several cuts within one audition; after barre they'd eliminate a bunch of girls, then we'd do center and they'd do a cut, and then finally there would be pointe, with just ten or fifteen dancers left, and the strain of desire would tighten our lips as the flush of almost-there lit up our faces.  Once, I was cut just before that last round and I stood frozen to the floor, my un-called number dangling like a scarlet A from my chest.  The walk between that spot and the door seemed to take hours. 

The following year, I made it through -- after pointe, my number was called along with those of the big city girls with the banana feet and the ceiling-high extension and the matching peach unitards, dance bags, and warm-up shirts.  I had been accepted into one of the top summer dance programs in the country.  It was one of the greatest feelings I'll ever have. 

When I got to college and joined the crew team, I experienced group sports for the first time since second grade, when I'd played soccer with the local rec league (you know, kiddie soccer, that unique sport where the entire team crowds around the ball and races up and down the field en masse, all elbows and tube socks). 

Crew was, to quote the Bachelor, amazing (I had a connection with it, even).  I can remember every moment of the races we won -- the back and forth of the bodies and the whoomp-swish! of the oars as we powered up the length of another eight, seat by seat ("I'M ON THE THREE SEAT, LADIES, LET'S GO!" the coxswain hollered), until we shot over the finish line.  When we beat Georgetown in a sprint one year, the rower in front of me vomited energetically over the side of the boat and I laid my head back into the lap of the girl behind me, my legs vibrating and my back afire with pain, but we couldn't stop grinning around our gasps and moans. 

The best part of winning crew races was getting to take the shirts off the rowers you beat, a long-held tradition of sportsmanship that netted us lots of tank tops.  Also enjoyable was the tossing of the coxswain into the river, which we did even if the water was crawling with pollution or barely above freezing.  And, of course, I loved me some screaming and jumping up and down and group hugs and clutching our medals above our heads.  Just thinking about it makes me giddy.

Being a lawyer occasionally provides fist-pumping moments of YES!, although oftentimes it's a relative anticlimax because you find out you won by way the court faxing over its decision, which generally comes months, or sometimes years, after you did all the work.  And someone usually appeals or some part of the case gets remanded, so the momentary woo-hoo is quickly downgraded into an oh-shit of frantically paging through your calendar to figure out how in the world you'll fit a new briefing schedule on top of your current workload.

But!  Sometimes, you get lucky and a judge issues a decision from the bench, and then you get that YEAH BABY sensation, and you have to restrain yourself from hopping onto the counsel table and doing the Roger Rabbit and snapping in Z formation in your opponent's face.  And then you get to bear hug your client, and they're all happy and they're ok with having laid out bajillions of dollars in legal fees.  And, even better, sometimes it's an individual client and the stakes are life-altering and you've just won this person, in effect, their life.  It's those moments that make it all worthwhile, man.

(And just so you know, I don't plan on being one of those parents like Emilio Estevez's dad in "The Breakfast Club", all YOU HAVE TO WIN!  YOU HAVE TO BE THE BEST! -- I'm not one of those people.  However, I also can't abide this pansy-ass New Age B.S. about how it's not good for kids to have competition because someone's feelings might get hurt.  I enjoy the game and the process for their own sake and all, and my world doesn't come crashing down when I lose, but come on -- a taste of victory every now and then (whether my own or, uh, a reality TV contestant's (Go Tessa!)) keeps me keepin' on.) 

Comments

[Jamie]

While not a competitive person, really, I have a bizarre love for the audition process. I think it *might* have something to do with the fact that I've never been rejected, but...seriously, I love the thrill of the cut, the constant rewarming of muscles, and the hot feeling I get in my throat and ribcage before they call my number. Totally addictive.

[Nancy]

I feel you, man. And congratulations on the win -- sounds heartening indeed.

Speaking of NOT winning . . . uh, I played some of your colleagues in a heated game of indoor soccer on Wednesday night. Wow, did we not win. And I'm sporting a huge bruise on my thigh from where I tackled the goalie. Oops.

[Rachel]

First let me say sorry for not commenting until now. I've really enjoyed reading your blog!

Now about competition... I'm a very passive, laid back person, but I agree with you and I think competition is GOOD. My husband is a martial arts instructor and his biggest pet peeve is the parents who insist all the kids are given trophies for "doing their best". Um no, when you compete in tournaments there are winners...which means there are losers. Humility is a good lesson for all...kids included.

[Lia]

Excellent post. I quite agree that early competition is not a bad thing.

[jonniker]

I'm weirdly jealous of Nancy that she gets to have colleagues play your colleagues, which means she could see you whenever she wants, whereas I have to wait until the end of July, and life is just NOT FAIR.

However! Congratulations again. Don't punch me for the "I'm proud of you" thing, but I'm totally doing it again. I'm so proud of you! Or *for* you, because it's not like I did anything, which is why the phrase has always bothered me, but suffice it to say, I'm really happy and excited for you. Because I'm geigh like that.

[Tessie]

I have to say that crew tradition of taking the losing team's shirts sounds totally awesome! Do you really get to take the shirts, as in "off their backs and home with you"? That would be totally sweet! Brings new meaning to collecting the "race shirt", as we do in running.

Great entry.