Head Game

The girls lost last night. And they beat themselves. They won the first game of the match and were up 13-8 in the second. They just needed 2 more points. And that's when it happened. The intoxicating smell of victory was in the air and went straight to their heads. They were vibrating with excitment and lost their focus. Every girl who came up to serve had the same expression on her face, The Child included, and that expression said, "I will score the winning point. I will be the hero". And the other team took advantage to come back and beat 'em 15-13.

Everything is still cool at this point. It's a best of three match. A third game cuts into our dinner time, which means I might be late to watch Martha Stewart's "Apprentice" but it's ok. For a long, gruesome set of minutes it looked like our girls were going to be soundly drubbed...the score went to 1-7 real quickly. But they came back, there were some great volleys and then it happened. They were still down, though not uncomfortably, and one of the girls, and all I'm going to say is she was NOT mine, started to cry. The game wasn't over and she started to cry which of course made all the other girls get boo-boo faces. Their opponents saw those beaten looks and it was all over. They scored their next few points and walked away victors.

It might be helpful, at this juncture, to admit that I really am not a huge fan of children as a group. It is not a guarantee that just because I like you I will find your child as fascinating as you do. Which is perfectly fine because a) I'm never going to tell you or your kid to your face, b) you may well feel the same way about mine, c) I'm sure I'll like them much more when they grow up and 4) as long as you love 'em it's all good. There are some children who I find to be super fantastic but fundamentally the gush and sentiment I bring to an encounter with a baby is not assured past the age of 14 months. Which is to explain that when the crying started I did not respond with compassion. Having only that afternoon learned that the kid in question is something of a Drama Queen anyway, I was not disposed to feel sorry for her. Wring her neck, perhaps, but not feel sorry.


We were talking at dinner about the mental aspects of the game and The Child felt compelled, with her innate fairness, to clarify that the DQ "wasn't crying, she was moping". "Just as bad!" four adults declared in unison. First, it was bad sportsmanship and second, it was stupid. She brought the team down, they collectively rolled over, exposed their soft white underbellies to the alpha pack and in that moment gave up their victory.

They beat themselves last night...first with excess confidence and fatally, by quitting before the game was over. Further proof that all the skills in the world aren't enough to make you successful if you don't have the mental commitment to succeed. Hopefully they will all learn that sooner rather than later.

Speaking of which, I made huge progress on my book yesterday and I'm starting to think it's that whole Nicole Richie thing. I mean, my lord in heaven, if Nicole Richie is a published author - family, name recognition and connections aside - what's my excuse?