I want to win.
The fires of competition alight inside, and we’re ready to battle. We win and are worthwhile; we lose and are ashamed.
That goes for everything from a World Series Game Seven to the family game of Guess Who. We compete, and we compete. And we do it to win.
It shows beyond our lives in the world around us. For example, Stephen Curry wins another basketball title. Then everyone showers him with love and praise, he hosts an awards show, and talking heads debate if he’s the best of all time.
What would have happened if Steph and the Warriors lost? People would direct that love and praise at those who did win, Steph wouldn’t even be nominated for an award and would watch from his couch, and the talking heads would debate everything wrong with him.
So yeah, we want to win. It’s the difference between universal acclaim and blame.
I like when people say nice things about me, and it’s hard when they point out where I’m weak. So I channel that into wanting to win to receive the love and avoid the hate.
But why are we so focused on competition?
In the uncivilized world, competition determines the allocation of resources. For example, organisms compete over food, water, territory, and mates. Humans exemplify this, such as America’s Manifest Destiny competing for resources with native peoples.
And in organizing ourselves, we’ve extended that competition to fame, wealth, power, and prestige. Steph Curry has a family and plenty to eat – he’s competing for legacy.
We compete because being the best means we are worthwhile. So we worship Michael Jordan for his accolades. It’s our way of comparing ourselves to others, of showing we’re valuable.
But when you compete for love or attention, you’ll always have to compete for it. Like Peter Thiel said, “Competition is for losers.” That’s a billionaire entrepreneur and investor talking about competing against other businesses, but the same applies to human entities as business entities. For example, Michael Jordan still competes for the greatest-of-all-time title long after he’s stopped playing.
However, when you compete as a means to do your best and hone your craft, you’ve already won – no competition necessary.
Therefore we should recognize what’s valuable about competition: inspiration to be better, cooperation with others toward a shared goal, and craftsmanship.
That’s to say, winning isn’t essential in 99% of situations. Yes, when you’re in a life or death battle, winning is critical. But, when a Little League team plays their rival, winning is low on the importance totem. And when the important things are taken care of, winning takes care of itself.
Therefore reframing competition as valuable for its own sake, instead of relying on an outcome – winning – makes it even more beneficial. Epictetus said, “You can always win if you only enter competitions where winning is up to you.”
Those are the folks at peace, win or lose. Besides, do you want your joy determined by a bounce of a ball or a referee’s decision? People who play well are always victorious.
I learned this over a game of Sternhalma (Chinese Checkers). Multiple teams played the game, each trying to get their pieces to the other side. It was a gathering of family and friends, each having something going on in their lives – death in the family, promotions, and new children. And the team that won had been going through a difficult time, but they celebrated that little victory, and a board game brightened their day. And that brightened my and everyone else’s day, too, even in defeat.
That’s not to say don’t try or do your best. Instead, to appreciate playing well and let the outcome be what it may.
By that I mean, whether you were rooting for Stephen Curry to win or not, watching him duel with the best players in the world, hit incredible shots, and make breathtaking plays – that’s the true joy of competition. Hosting trophies is a byproduct of the love of the game.
That’s why I’m less concerned about who wins. But I want to play. I like to compete.
