These days, the UT campus is beaming with pride over its football team. Between the teams’ numerous appearances on prime-time television (3 weeks in a row!) and the fact that the tower might as well be permanently burnt orange at this point, an elevated sense of school-spirit has emerged. Post-game chants, signs in the Jester lobby, and even people’s facebook statuses have all been proclaiming the Longhorns’ spot at the top of the college football food-chain. Why does everyone care so much though? No one outside of that locker room has done anything to contribute to a win. No one outside of the locker room has paid the price during practice. Hell, a good portion of the people outside the locker room probably didn’t even watch football before they came here. Don’t worry, I’m not scolding us for having team spirit, but am instead pointing out that regardless of affiliation, people want to be associated with a winner. That third year biology student never played a down in his life, but since he goes to the school with the best football team in the land, he can rightfully raise his index finger proudly in the air. It simply stems from the fact that people, regardless of age, ethnicity, socioeconomic background, or interests, want to be connected with winners. People like to win—its human nature.
I am no different. If I am participating in something that crowns a winner, I am going to do my best to make sure that I earn that distinction. By whatever means necessary (without resorting to cheating, of course). I believe that is what truly separates those who are winners in life (those that are successful, happy, accomplished) from those who are not: everyone wants to win, but not everybody is willing to make the necessary sacrifices to do so. I guess I have football to blame for this way of thinking. Every Wednesday we would have our “competition day,” which consisted of quite possibly the dumbest physical activities known to man. We didn’t even win anything other than respect from our peers and a brief sense of accomplishment. It didn’t matter though. Every player, including myself, wanted to win at sock wrestling and medicine ball basketball, and we fought tooth and nail to achieve that.
AS STUPID AS IT SEEMED AT THE TIME, CHALLENGES LIKE SOCK WRESTLING WENT A LONG WAY IN CREATING MY COMPETITIVE NATURE.
Eyes were blackened, noses gushed blood, and lunches were regurgitated. It was days like these that taught me that it takes sacrifice to achieve goals; if you don’t have to fight for it, it is probably not worth having. That competitiveness carried over into my everyday life. I was by no means the smartest kid at my high school, I just outworked everyone else. When I play my young cousin in a game of Mario-Kart, I try to kick her ass. Its important to have an attitude such as this. That is how goals are reached and success is achieved.
AH, THIS IS TOO TRUE. WHILE ONE SHOULD NEVER DO THIS TO ONE'S FRIENDS, ALWAYS REMEMBER THAT IF YOU AREN'T THE ONE PUSHING PEOPLE OVER, THEN YOU ARE MOST LIKELY BEING PUSHED.
However, that is not to say that the a good method to becoming a successful person is to simply be a competitive asshole. Compassion is necessary as well. If one goes through life stabbing people in the back, stepping on throats, or wins by cheating, then there will be no one left to share in and respect the success—and that is not true success, after all. That is how one gets “all the respectable inhabitants and well-to-do fellow-natives of the town against [them].” [1] Yet, no one ever got anywhere by letting people walk all over them, either. I found that, as with most things, the best way to accomplish goals is a midway point between the two. In this case, to always do the best that you can while surrounding yourself with those who do the same. By associating with the “fittest,” one becomes “fitter (more fit?).” I am always willing to help those who are having trouble understanding something or wanting to go over a homework together; yet, am not one of those who openly gives away answers. “I don’t like [to give answers] ‘out of charity’ at all.”[2] I enjoy helping those who are willing to help themselves, willing to put forth an effort. My friends and I often would lend each other a helping hand, for we wanted to see each other succeed. Yet, “the others that weren’t mine [friends] I didn’t feel so much for, as [is] natural.” [3] Also, this is a benefit because I know that those that I help would do the same for me in my time of need. Plus, there is no real pride to be had in a victory that occurs on an uneven playing field.
1.Thomas Hardy, Jude the Obscure (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1999), 196
2.Thomas Hardy, Jude the Obscure (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1999), 133
3.Thomas Hardy, Jude the Obscure (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1999), 273
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