How to win graciously.


My man, Obie, won last night. Part of me wanted him to do a ridiculous victory celebration–one which I would join. Still, I’m glad he didn’t. The best winner is the one who says thank you, takes the prize, and walks away. Why? Because, unless it is a final contest, an excessive celebration is going to come back to haunt him. Losers remember the celebration more than the loss and, when they eventually come around and win, they’ll give it back and then some.

This is why I enjoy baseball more than football, although baseball is beginning to lean the wrong way. Football has morphed into a parade of silly celebratory dances. The cheer became the ass-slap and fist-pump, which became the high-five, which became the low-five and backhand-five, which became the chest bump. Please, make it stop. When you sack the fucking quarterback, help him up, and return quietly to your huddle. This will save your knees, as the offensive lineman you just made a fool of will be less inclined to chop you.

In baseball, an excessive celebration is usually taken care of by the pitcher and catcher as the batter is drilled in the ribs with a 90 MPH fastball. The beauty is that often the celebrating idiot isn’t the one punished–it’s his teammate, which makes this a more effective deterrent. You hit a double? Great. Stand there on second, get the sign from the coach, and do so without making antler signs on your helmet. Celebration gets you nothing good.

Imagine if the Pres strutted out on stage and chest bumped Biden. First, Biden would have probably folded like macrame and cracked a hip. The crowd would have been whipped into a total frenzy. The idiot with the flag in her weave standing behind Obama during his speech probably would have dived on the floor and shot red, white, and blue sparks from her snatch. The adrenaline rush from such a display would fade on Wednesday morning as Republican bosses would take a piss on the jovial middle-class employees.

I know it’s playing to the crowd, but I sure wish everyone would keep their imaginary friends out of the acceptance speeches. Gods don’t belong in politics. When you say things like “God willing” and “God bless” it comes off as arrogant with an exaggerated sense of privilege and entitlement. When I hear “God bless these United States” I can’t help but imagine the rest of the unsaid sentence reads something like “… and fuck the rest of the world.” Don’t thank these beings for your success. Take some credit yourself, and thank your visible supporters, many who volunteered their time and money.

Even the loser needed to invite his imaginary friend into the equation by saying he is praying for Obama. I wish Obama would have replied, “You know what, Romney, keep your fucking prayers. I don’t need your insincere hopes and blessings. I need your cooperation and involvement so we can continue to fix this mess. You lost. Don’t get your magic panties in a wad. Man up and do something with all your money and influence to help this country move forward.”

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About the author

Author of humorous essays about relationships and lifestyles.