Competition (Revised)

I recently stated on Facebook that I felt like a dinosaur. Born in 1952, I have no interest in cell phones, and Blackberries. Not too excited yet about Twitter and Facebook. It is possible that I could warm up to these, but I remain a cautious skeptic. How these things will benefit me personally is yet to be proven. I saw a blue hair (old person) at lunch today with one of those earpiece phones that blinked from time to time, like she was a Borg from Star Trek. Good for her, she is convinced. I don’t desire any of these things, so far, so yeah, I feel like a dinosaur.

My daughter commented that “The question is, what type of dinosaur? Competition-wise, you’re a bit of a velociraptor.” I am honored and pleased with that assessment, but it was not always so. I was a passive competitor for so many years. I will get back to this about 10 paragraphs later.

My dad was a hot-tempered man of strong opinions. He believed what he believed, and if you did not agree, well, you were just wrong. Dad did a fine job of expressing himself, but would do so in a manner that lacked a certain sensitivity towards others feelings. I loved him, he was my father, but that did not make him a saint. He had many fine qualities, but it was his eccentricities that were difficult for me to handle as a child, and made me timid in my early years.

I noticed early on that Dad admired great athletes in all sports, and was immensely proud of my oldest brother who was, by my estimation, an excellent wrestler and great athlete. Like all boys, I wanted to please my father, so I eventually overcame my timidity and did get up the nerve to try wrestling. My Dad wrestled for Iowa when he was in college and my brother was good at it, so I tried it, hoping that by some miracle of genetics that I might possess the necessary attributes to be successful.

All sports considered, wrestlers are the best all-around athletes. Wrestling requires speed, strength, endurance, and most of all, confidence. In addition to requiring the greatest athleticism, it also requires technical knowledge and practiced skills; all of which is meaningless without the bravery of a gladiator in the coliseum. You are out there on the mat with no place to hide, no teammate to rely on, no one else to blame for your success or failure. It is the ultimate in machismo, a man on man moment. One goes home a winner, the other experiences a defeat witnessed by the entire gymnasium and all of your peers.