It's often stated that we all love an underdog - and we do - but there's no cliche in place to describe the amazement, or awe, we feel from the perfect record. Underdogs don't score the perfect ten, geniuses do. Dan Gable won an Olympic gold, in freestyle wrestling, without conceding a single point the entire time; Cael Sanderson is undefeated in college wrestling; Dock Ellis (baseball, sorry grapple fans) threw a no-hitter, whilst under the influence of LSD; Rickson Gracie never loses, ever.
Yesterday was the first time I've ever lost in a grappling competition - ruining any future hope I might've had at building that perfect record. I didn't loose out on a major championship, nor was my future welfare, in anyway, compromised, but, for some reason, it really got to me. After the match, I put Kurt Cobain to shame. And it's at a time like that you want to blame everyone else: "if so-and-so would've stopped talking to me beforehand, I could've focused more"; "that person being there made me too tense"; "that girl's my bad luck charm, I never do well with her here". The truth of the matter, though, is that I made mistakes and the other guy was good enough to capitalise on them. That's all. I would've really liked to have blamed someone else, or luck, but I don't believe in luck, or fate, or destiny; the only people you can count on, is yourself and your opponent (and maybe the ref).
The worst part was realising how stupid my approach was, later. I had a few other matches, after the loss, to settle on who'd win the bronze. It's a ridiculous mentality, but I'm a "first or last" sort of guy - there's first place, and there's last place, and nothing inbetween. So, I approached these other matches thinking "what's the point?" Which meant I was loose and limber, seeing the openings, and going to work, properly. I won the bronze. And all I could think of was how tense I'd been approaching the other matches. I hadn't switched off and relaxed. ("Be like water, my friend.") It was a learning experience - which is, really, what competing is supposed to be - but that doesn't make that smudge on my record any more tolerable, right now.
One of the people I beat, on the way to the bronze, blamed the mats for his loss: if he hadn't tripped on the mats, then there's no way I would have submitted him. He was nice enough to find me and tell me this, in a very matter of fact sort of way, after the match. Some people can't accept the loss, and some people can; thankfully, I'm the latter.
P.S.
I actually had an entirely different post half written, before writing this, but putting that up felt like ignoring what I really wanted to talk about. Somedays you need to put your hands up and shout "I fucked up!"
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