Losing Like a Girl
No one I know likes to lose; as we age, the stakes get higher, and losing anything, even a second of time that I may have spent on something unimportant, bugs me. Yet when I have experienced loss or things have not gone my way, losing like a girl is what has helped me recover faster. My friends and I have a theory that when we lose something, what we do is lose like the girls we are. Girls are emotional; girls talk to their friends about it repeatedly, and girls immediately grieve. We wear the loss on our faces, and it helps the process of moving on. It doesn't mean it's easy; loss is scary and leaves you feeling vulnerable, and in the case of sports, you have facts to remind you of the loss; the stats, depth chart, and numbers become your constant keepsakes of failure. This makes it more difficult to erase from your heart and brain the two things that control the emotional side of us. Only when the brain and heart collide do you get emotion!
I had seen and felt sadness, and there were a few disappointing moments like the 1979 Eagles Football Season-Ending Falcons/Eagles wild card game. The Eagles kicker was injured, and the punter tried to kick a game-winning field goal. It is hard enough for a trained kicker to get it through the uprights; add in the pressure of the playoffs and the final seconds, and being a punter, not a place kicker, he missed it. The score was 14 Falcons, 13 Eagles. Yes, that was upsetting, and I cried for days. The Eagles made it to the divisional round the next year, but in the end, Doug Williams, the quarterback with the Washington Redskins (now the Commanders), beat the Eagles again.
When the Stakes are High, it’s Ok to Cry
It was upsetting. I'm a crier; there were tears, but we got farther, so it wasn’t a total loss. Monday morning, school drop-off was okay. There was some teasing, but I handled it. When the Eagles beat their arch nemesis, the Dallas Cowboys, and were in New Orleans bound for the 1981 Super Bowl, the famous Sounds of Philly band McFadden and Whitehead rewrote their classic R&B song “Ain't No Stopping Us Now” for the Eagles. The world was wrapped up in a yellow ribbon for the hostages' safety, and this time it felt different. This time, we are going to win the big game. We've got the groove, and we’re on the move. Yet, there was stoppage from the first seconds of the game, lessons to be learned, and messages from God to be shared.
My grandfather, who owned the Philadelphia Eagles during that 1981 Super Bowl, wanted to win the game so badly. He wanted the win not for himself but for the fans, the players, and the entire city of Philadelphia. The city had been struggling with poor economic times and, truthfully, simply being ‘Not Pittsburgh, but Philly’—we got a bad rap for being too New Jersey, minus the "Joisey" accent. And, since we are so close in proximity to DC and NYC, we are often referred to as the loser little brother. Yup, so close to the political and financial capitals of the world, but no White House or Wall Street to draw in tourists—only a cracked bell and a Rocky statue.
So, this Super Bowl was a huge milestone for the city of Philadelphia, and my grandfather went to great lengths to get us the win. Yes, Grandpop had the best coaches and the root of the coaching tree, Sid Gillman himself, on the staff. Don Rickles was giving the pre-game pep talk, and he personally paid for over 800 employees and family members to attend the game, trading his tickets for hotel rooms! He hosted buffets as if it were Las Vegas, and he even brought with him Cardinal Krol from Philadelphia, a Cardinal, the man closest to God, who had just been with the Pope. This was a message from God: “Eagles, beat those Raiders!”
By the end of the first quarter, the game was over for the Eagles, and my grandfather looked at the Cardinal and said, "I think you need the bigger (rosary) beads, Cardinal." We were supposed to win the game, the Lombardi Trophy, and put them on display like our prized cheesesteaks. We were supposed to have a party and give Philly what they never had before—a football winner in shoulder pads, cleats, and a helmet with an Eagle on it! My grandfather wanted to douse the city in champagne and let everyone know that the city of brotherly love and its citizens are winners! That, unfortunately, didn't happen during his watch and still hasn't. Good thing for Brotherly Love since the Flyers, Sixers, and Phillies have picked up the titles for us. After the game, my grandfather turned to the Cardinal and asked him why, and the Cardinal said, "Well, Leonard, I talked to God, and he said no, not this year.” You can't argue with God and his plan or the lessons we must learn from the word "no." It makes the emotion seem irrelevant. God said, OK, get ready for next season and make more sacrifices, and you will get a yes!
Losing the Super Bowl in 1981 Makes Sense
The final score was 27-10, and I knew that it was going to be a long time until I saw my grandfather smile again. Lesson learned? You get over it, but you always think about the what ifs. I wonder what would have happened if we never made it to the Superbowl. Yes, we would long be losers, but can losing ever be acceptable? You can turn it into something great, right? I quickly learned that grown men and eleven-year-old girls are remarkably similar when it comes to losses of this magnitude. Crying and emotion are what we do, and when a little girl does it, she gets consoled, and when a man does it, he gets called “a bad sport” and a “cry baby.” Quarterbacks feel the loss deeply, but only a few show it. You might dance like a girl and give away your toys like a mom would to her children. And then, when you feel lost, you cry and just want a moment to eat your ice cream and talk to your best friends about it. Then it’s all good! That's not what you get, though, when the stakes are so high.
Remember the movie The Wedding Singer? (Yes, I was Joyce the Flight Attendant in that wonderful Adam Sandler movie!) Well, Sandler gets dumped right at the altar, and this is why I believe the movie is a hit—he does the opposite of a calm, cool man. He freaks out, yells, cries, and is emotional. So, quarterbacks that lose the big game, just remember that you must be cool and continue to be a leader, and it's ok to be upset and cry too. Losing like a girl is all I know about losing, and I completely understand that when men behave with their emotions, it can make people around them uncomfortable. That is why they get labeled “bad sportsmen” or worse, “sore losers!” They're mostly reacting like girls, and that's a good thing!
Since my grandfather’s passing in 2003, every season starts with me crying, getting a little upset that I'm not sitting in the owner’s box, only because I know how much easier it is to help others when you own an NFL team. That is the truth, so I put his NFC Championship WINNER ring on, have Perrier (minus the Dewars, which was his drink of choice), and celebrate the NFL with my kids and loved ones. The fact remains: if we had won that game in 1981, I would not be where I am right now. I would not trade that for anything, so maybe sometimes losing isn't that bad—especially when you can lose like a girl!
