Win - C.E. Lemieux Jr

March 2, 2019March 2, 2019

Winners Don’t Always Win

03/09/2015

I recently had the incredible privilege of watching a group of young athletes pour out every ounce of courage and determination they possessed upon the basketball court. We watched our girls battle in the area tournament, where they felt the pain of loss wipe out their hopes for a trip to the state tournament. Of course they were disappointed at their loss, but happy for the boys who were going on to the Oklahoma Class B State Tournament.

The trip for the boys was a tough, long battle. Ranked number four going in, the defending state champions, who had previously trounced over their opponents, had to work every second of nearly every game to earn their place at state. Those young men had seriously worked their tails off to get there. They battled through games that some people, including myself, weren’t sure they were going to win. Winning by a few hard fought points in most cases, they worked their way through the District, Regional, and Area tournaments to make it to the three day state bracket.

The fight wasn’t over there. They had to battle their way through the first two games of the tournament, knocking off the number two and number three ranked teams, to make it to that cherished place in the final game and face the number one ranked team in the state. Again, hard earned points separated them from their opponents. I’m sure they left a trail of disappointment behind them with the teams they beat. Sometimes it is even harder to take the loss by a few points than it is to be blown out. A blow out can easily be explained by realizing they played a stronger team. Losing by a few points always leaves doubts and thoughts of what could have been pooling in the mind.

In a championship game that went back and forth, leaving hope hanging in the air, they struggled. Just as in the previous games, they played a team with a deeper, more experienced bench. With time outs, breaks between quarters, halftime, and a couple of substitutes (I was proud to see my son out there) as their only relief, five determined young men pounded up and down the court. They absolutely left everything they had on the court. They were worn and exhausted, but driven by adrenaline and hope.

Their coach too put all he could into the game. He gave them his best advice, his best words, and as much encouragement as he could. He sacrificed timeouts just to give them a breather. He showed respect for their courage and their drive. Their fans cheered and screamed and wrung their hands. The anticipation hung throughout the game. It’s a small team, from a small town, so they had the whole town behind them.

But in the end, they didn’t win. They accepted the silver, with an ache for the gold. They did their best to take pictures with family and friends even though their hearts wanted to slink away and cry out the pain. Just as they had won their way there, they lost by a few mere points and that’s heartbreaking. Some of them were seniors and they saw their dream slip away. Others still have other seasons ahead of them, but wonder if they’ll have the opportunity to be there again.

They learned a very hard lesson, one they may not appreciate for a long time and may never look fondly upon: Winners Don’t Always Win. They, of course, are winners. They proved it all along the way. They won because they put their hearts and their efforts on the line. They won because they gave it their all. They won because they left a trail of successful challenges behind them. They won because they have the respect of their coaches for the effort. They won because they will always be winners to the family and friends who love and support them. They won because they inspired a sense of pride for a small town, and they served as examples for all the little athletes who look up to them. They won because they were there.

But my friends, winners don’t always win every challenge. What makes them winners is the character and determination they have to make it through to the other side, even if it hurts. The ache of loss is always there ready to raise its ugly head in moments of reminiscence. There will be “what if’s” that follow them whenever they think back on that season or that game. But when they look back with honesty, and they feel how hard the pain of that loss hit them, they’ll realize that they wouldn’t feel that way if they hadn’t wanted it so badly. If you can walk away without the pain, you simply didn’t want it enough. But if the pain nearly tears you apart, if your heart aches every time you think about it, you know your heart was in the right place and you know you gave it your all.

No, winners don’t always win, but real winners always rise to the top, even if they lose. Thanks for the season, guys!

March 2, 2019March 2, 2019

If At First You Don’t Succeed…

10/24/2013

You could finish that statement easily enough, couldn’t you? I’m sure most people recognize Vince Lombardi’s quote, “Winners never quit and quitters never win.” And Thomas Edison’s quote, “I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work” is often cited as a positive spin on the scrapes and bruises which come along as the result of the struggle for success.

The truth is success doesn’t often come easy and quite often not on the first attempt. It would be nearly ridiculous for an author to expect to complete a book on the first draft. It goes through revisions, editing, and sometimes a complete rewrite. Most paintings begin from a sketch or at least an idea, before they find their true form. Diamonds don’t come out of the ground with those perfect cuts and polish.

Yet, we often berate ourselves over failure or hang our heads at dismal results. Why is it we are so hard on ourselves when failures and mistakes just help us to clarify the pathway? Often when we stumble, it’s because there is another way.

When you meet with an obstacle do you see only the closed door, or do you look around for the one which has opened? Is it really a dead end or just a fork in the road? No doubt there are times we need to recognize when we are simply beating our heads against the wall, but even under those circumstances there may be another option. Perhaps we need to step back and look at the big picture. Even that proverbial wall we are bouncing against might be just what we need to see another way around the problems blocking our success.

The real question is whether we are willing to learn from those mistakes. Are we open to what they reveal about our plans? Can we use them to improve or change our navigational course? Are we simply going to dwell on them or make use of them?

As with most of these blog posts, they originate with me. Often the ideas come from things with which I’ve struggled. As I seek to encourage myself, I offer encouragement to you as well. Take heed of the signs along the path. Look for how your mistakes can help you achieve success. Open your eyes to the big picture to see if you really know what it is you are trying to accomplish and if that goal is the right goal for you.

Here are a few more inspiring quotes about persistence toward success:

“Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.” – Winston Churchill

“In order to succeed, your desire for success should be greater than your fear of failure.” – Bill Cosby

“I’ve failed over and over and over again in my life and that is why I succeed.” – Michael Jordan

“Develop success from failures. Discouragement and failure are two of the surest stepping stones to success” – Dale Carnegie

“The difference between a successful person and others is not a lack of strength, not a lack of knowledge, but rather a lack of will.” – Vince Lombardi

“Success is to be measured not so much by the position that one has reached in life as by the obstacles which he has overcome.” – Booker T. Washington

“I don’t measure a man’s success by how high he climbs, but how high he bounces when he hits bottom.” – George S. Patton “Never, never, never give up.” – Winston Churchill

March 2, 2019March 2, 2019

A Season For Hope

2012

Well, it’s over. The scoreboard is dark. The public address system is silent. The seats are empty. The bases have been brought in. The bats and balls have been put away. The grass will weather the winter and the chalk lines will fade into the dirt. Sadly, the disappointment is still sinking in. For weeks, I was pumped, but in just one fall night my hopes were crushed…at least until next season. Okay, if you know me, you’ve probably realized I’m talking about the brutal loss My Rangers took at the hands of the St. Louis Cardinals. I use the word brutal, because it hurt, not because it was one of those one-sided, lame, boring World Series battles.

A little history: When I was a kid, I hated baseball or at least, I told myself I did. I played part of a season. It was in Virginia; the summer league at the fields near Indian River High School. I believe I was in the third or fourth grade. I had no concept of the game and everyone I was playing with had been playing for at least a couple of years. I was scared to death to take the field. I was afraid I’d make a mistake or not know what to do.

My younger brother, he was great at it. He started young and each year his team got better and better. He could pitch. He could catch. He could play a mean second base. My dad was one of the coaches and he had a natural talent for it. If he hadn’t decided to make a career out of the Navy, coaching would have been his calling.

It wasn’t like it is today where they used tees or pitching machines to learn the game. Those kids were pitching from the beginning and some of them were just fantastic. They took the game serious. They listened during the practices and followed all of dad’s drills. I actually enjoyed hanging out at his practices more than I enjoyed playing with my own team, so I just stopped playing.

Fast Forward: I’m in college. I went to several Rangers games in the old stadium just because the bank I worked for took all of its employees. The park was practically empty. I remember one game was against the White Sox and it went nine innings with a score of one to nothing. The Rangers lost. It just reinforced the idea that baseball was boring.

Surprisingly, I became a trainer for the college team. I enjoyed the game at that level, but it was mostly because of the attitude of the guys on the team. It was a small, private college; they played as much for the fun of the game as anything. After college, baseball went back to being a non-interest.

Fast Forward Again: I’m a dad. I’ve got a couple of kids playing ball. I decide, what better way for my kids to learn about baseball than to watch the pros. We started watching Rangers games together. No, the team wasn’t all that great and they weren’t going to make the playoffs, but they reminded me of the guys in college who actually seemed to play because they liked it. We quickly picked out our favorite players.

We watched and learned the game together. We talked about what was happening in the game. We discovered the techniques and the plays. We learned the meaning of terms like – double play, fielder’s choice, an RBI, a single, a double, a triple, and of course the most sought after – Grand Slam. We played catch. We collected cards. We got into baseball.

It became something we did together. Soon, Rangers games were family time. It was something special. We marveled at the spectacular plays and the home runs. The Rangers were in the new park and it was beautiful. When we were on vacation, we attended a Rangers game. We were in the nosebleed section, but it was awesome.

We went to a Redhawks game in the Bricktown Ballpark in Oklahoma City. They were a minor league team for the Rangers at that time. We were just a few rows back from the dugout. The dirt was so red. The grass was so green. The crack of the bat was so close and we could actually hear the ball pop in the mitts. The game was alive. The experience was so real. The crowd was so into it. I became baseball crazy. I had to catch every baseball game I could. Even baseball movies became of interest. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen Field of Dreams. I recently started a novel in which baseball plays a significant role.

Of course kids grow, and in a small town which only has a youth league, they eventually grew too old for playing baseball. One went to college. One is in high school where we don’t have a team. Another would probably play if there was a team for his age group. My daughter does play softball. Yet, even though the boys don’t play the game anymore, baseball is still one thing we can get together on once in a while.

Last year, the Rangers made it to the Series. I’d been following them for years. I knew their names and positions. There is Michael Young, the calm, cool versatile captain of the team. On second is Kinsler, who once played for the Liberal Bee Jays just 30 miles from home (I wish I’d been a follower then). Josh Hamilton is an inspiration and a slugger. There is Derick Holland, @Dutch_Oven45 on Twitter, the young pitcher. Of course, that year everyone was talking about Cliff Lee, who the Yankees took almost as quickly as the series was over. I’d seen the bullpen when it was at its worst and I’d watched as it improved. Certainly, there were others I wish we hadn’t traded and this year we have Napoli, who I can hope never leaves. I had watched their careers and the trades. They had become a part of my life, our lives. So, we were all excited when they made the playoffs and into the World Series, but then the Giants dashed our hopes.

This year, they were back. They were good. It was going to be their year. We watched the divisional and conference games. All of the playoff games were exciting; the anticipation was building with each game. Then, finally we were back in the big one – The World Series. The Series proved to be just as exciting and I was stressing through each game, but in the end the Cards took home the trophy. The final game was disappointing, a heartbreaking loss. And the worst part: baseball was over for the year.

It is amazing to see where life leads you. The kid, who thought he hated baseball, found out he loves baseball. The kid, who was scared to play, wishes he could play it now. And a game, that was just meant to show my own kids how the game is played, has become a part of our lives and something which can still bring us together.

One of the greatest things about baseball: it starts all over again in the spring. No matter how the last season ended, the slate is wiped clean and you are once again instilled with the hope that the next season will be your year. The grass greens up once again. The red dirt is groomed and chalked. The bats crack and the mitts pop; the crowds cheer, and God Bless America is proudly sung in the seventh inning stretch. And all over the country, fans kindle the hope that this year will be their year.

I can be proud of My Rangers for playing the game in a way which displayed class and respect for the tradition, enough that even Cards fans mentioned it on the Rangers Facebook page. I can be proud they made it to the Series two years in a row, making club history. I can be proud they made this last Series one of the most exciting in the history of the game, bringing in people who hadn’t watched a game in years. And I am sincerely proud of all of those things, but I will be most proud of the fact that they will be back in the spring to do it all again, and they will find a way to fill me with the hope that next year will be our year.