Born To Lose

Whilst parenting this weekend, it occurred to me that my oldest son is an appalling loser. By which I mean that he HATES losing.

Full disclosure: He is 5. I had two running races with him. I won the first because he ran to the wrong tree. Because he was upset we had a second race and he had a big head start. To my shame, I sprinted as fast as I could and beat him. He was beside himself. But hey, the kid's gotta learn.

As with all things father and son-ly, this got me thinking. Is my son a bad loser because I am? Or can I blame his mother?

After literally minutes of self-analysis, I figured out that I am a bad loser but not in the crying and stomping around way. Even worse I have realised that I am a bad winner but again not in a conventional 'in your face loser!' kind of way.

Here's the deal:

I love the competition. Running races, pitches, thought leadership arms races in sonic branding...I love to compete. I do like to win. It is nice to have the 'champagne moment' but my problem is that as soon as the bubbles have been drunk I am thinking about the next race. The last was nothing - the next is everything. So winning is just a moment - one spark in time followed by an instant yearning for the next race.

And here's the real kicker. Losing is not just a moment - a fragment in time - losing stays with me for months, years, decades. I carry my failures with me everywhere I go. They are enduring, they are the permanent scars of a life spent competing.

It is my fear of losing that really drives me - the knowledge that a slip-up will last forever is naturally stronger than a desire to sip-up the champagne.

I will try to teach my kids to enjoy the wins little longer, forget the losses a little quicker. I will also seek their forgiveness as it seems that I have no deniability at all when it comes to passing on poor character traits. Sorry boys.