Competition

Last summer, I was telling one of my friends how competitive my family can be. We’re not one of those lame families that holds grudges for years, but if you’re keeping score or there’s going to be a winner, at least one participant will, at all times, obsess over winning.

My friend agreed, saying her family was the same way. Their family had to stop playing board games because her brothers would get upset after a loss and send the pieces flying.

This is ludicrous to me. We were supposedly talking about the same thing, but our definitions were worlds apart. To me, throwing a fit when you lose has nothing to do with being competitive. All it proves is your immaturity and inability to handle setbacks-not that I, of course, have never been guilty of the same type of behavior.

Meanwhile to me, the concept of competition is almost a sacred one. You’re always taught to give your best, and while that’s probably impossible, the desire to do so shows a respect for yourself, your teammates and everyone else on the field/court/diamond/rink/whatever. It’s the essence of good sportsmanship. When I played basketball at the church as a teenager, we were sometimes joined by a man in his mid-to-late twenties who, if I recall the rumors correctly, had played at BYU and who was light-years ahead of all of us. The thing is, if his team built a lead near the end of a game, he’d intentionally start throwing the inbounds passes directly to the other team, surrendering lay-up after lay-up to even the odds. I can’t describe in words how much that pissed me off. Maybe he was just trying to make it fun for everyone, or he was just trying to challenge himself, but to me, it was one of the most patronizing and arrogant things I’ve ever been subjected to on the court.

Likewise, as a teenager I’d occasionally play 21 with one of my brothers. Despite his half-a-foot height advantage, it always seemed like he’d let me win if I tried my hardest. This, too, was very upsetting, because he always had the talent to destroy me, yet if I won, it always felt cheap. My best counter for this was to call him on it or talk enough trash to rile him up, but let’s face it, older brothers are pretty unflappable.

Anyway, competitiveness is a clear job requirement for any professional athlete.

Take Kobe Bryant, prolific scoring machine and swingman for the Los Angeles Lakers. The conventional wisdom is that Kobe is one of the most competitive players in the league, if not the most. This notion strikes me as absurd.

What makes a person competitive, then? Not to turn into Bill Walton here, but the ability to perform best under the most adverse circumstances jumps immediately to mind. Obviously, it’s someone who likes to compete-in team sports, that means a player who is concerned first and foremost with winning. That includes taking credit for one’s own role in any loss, because a truly great player is always looking to improve. And implied in all of this is the idea of physical toughness. If you can’t remember all of that, just picture the exact opposite of Peyton Manning.

How does that relate to Kobe? Under that definition, you can’t call anyone who runs Shaquille O’Neal out of town, basically wrecking his own chances at a title for years, competitive. Kobe is obviously a very fiery individual who is willing to do anything to be remembered as the NBA’s greatest player. Yet it seems, to this outsider, that his motivation springs more from selfishness than a love of competition. If anything, it almost seems like he hates competition while he embraces it angrily, if that makes any sense. If he loved to win, wouldn’t he make it work with Shaq?

Ron Artest. The guy has probably had a pretty rough life, which hardly makes him unique among NBA players. Even before the brawl at the Palace, Artest showcased an intensity that could easily be confused for a hunger to win. I remember once seeing highlights when he basically tackled an opponent -I think it was then-Sixers point guard Eric Snow, who gives up about fifty pounds to Artest. But more to the point, tackling a basketball player doesn’t prove you hate to lose or that you’re bad-it just proves you’re a jerk, doesn’t it?

Last but certainly not least we have every baseball player who has taken steroids. The professional excuse-makers sometimes say that players basically had to take them to keep up, since everyone else was on the juice. It seem to me that if you’re taking illegal drugs or cheating in other ways, you’re basically admitting to yourself that you’re fundamentally incapable of being good enough on your own-in other words, you’re terrified of competing.

I think competitiveness is most evident in clutch performance and is, in many ways, the athletic attribute I care about the most.

Which athletes do I see as the most competitive? Growing up, I looked of course to John Elway and Michael Jordan, both of whom made enough legendary game-winning plays to, in my mind, cement their status as the all-time best in their sports (football for Elway and baseball for Jordan).

From today’s crop, Tom Brady is an obvious pick. Ditto Tim Duncan. Allen Iverson shares Bryant’s tendencies towards volume shooting , but I think he wants to win more than anything. Especially in his rookie year (and college), Carmelo showed flashes, and I think that’s back this season. Brett Favre should be here, but he seems to shrug off his shortcomings too readily these days. I always admired Steve McNair, who is aging and on a terrible team. How about Chauncey Billups? And who could forget Vince Young in the Rose Bowl?

The one thing that gives me hope for Jake Plummer is that he’s always seemed to be resilient and defiant enough. His attitude seems commendable even when his performance is inconsistent. (More on Plummer later this week.)

The dishonor roll adds another Manning, Eli, and other wimps, notably Vince Carter. (Do you remember when he was hailed as having the model attitude for every athlete?) Donovan McNabb may or may not be a good team leader, but he falls short in the clutch performance category. I’ve always felt like Jason Kidd was a bit of a con man. Sometimes I fear Kenyon Martin gets too carried away with the tough-guy routine. And for past players, Karl Malone is Exhibit A for the category of the heartless.

Before the most recent season, Terrell Owens would have been a no-brainer as one of the most winning-oriented athletes, as I’ve always felt that “he wants the focus on himself, not the team” garbage was a bit overblown. But he went so far out of his way to criticize McNabb so often this year that I am beginning to worry.

Which star athletes have the heart you admire the most? And which ones only disappoint?