Admitting Defeat

Ross Dressler  |  2 min read

 

I hate losing—almost as much as I enjoy winning. When you become accustomed to victory, defeat might be the worst feeling fathomable. Knowing that I put forth 100% of my effort and still came up short rifles ire through my veins. I never pass judgment on those who only play for fun or through boredom, because they merely haven’t tapped into the tree of victors. Winning your first time feels great. In the back of your mind you might just think it was luck but by the fourth win you know you’re just a natural. Not everyone has the potential to be great. Some are born with it, others earn it. I like to think of myself as the former. I first won back in 2010 – such a great season it was. My squad and I were a force with which to be reckoned. We had a respectable season at 8-5. Not the greatest regular season, but we came alive in the postseason and were able to squeeze out a championship.

After sinking my teeth into a win for the first time, my insatiable thirst for supremacy was conceived. This baby of conquest was then born the next season when I decided to join a second league. This was a great up-taking, but with my skills, I felt I was ready. I was aware of the commitment it would take, but I had watched peers partake in multiple leagues. My baby grew and grew until it was a grown man – gnarly beard and all - in 2012. After securing yet another flawless championship, I knew I had something special. People have stretches of triumph and I always scoffed at the idea that I too was having only a mere stretch. Unfortunately this was indeed a stretch, which was coming to an end. Fast forward to the new season of 2013, I thought I was golden; one more year of success and all the more bragging rights amongst the community. I started so strong; how could I fall? Winning by a landslide for five out of the first six weeks put me comfortably in first place.

Then the injuries occurred and “Down goes Frazier!”. Down goes one, then two, then three. “Is this real-life? ” I thought. I was perfectly healthy, but my teammates…not at all. In a span of a few weeks, three of my top teammates were gone, consumed by the injured reserved list – a list of no return. I hoped that my bench players could rally around me as well as the injuries of their fellow players to continue my streak of honor. Not only did they not step up, but they also brought shame to my dynasty. As the new laughing stock of the league, I dropped to second place. Granted I am still in second place, and a playoff hopeful, but I just don’t see how I can win another, single game. My great empire of victory is over. For I have to admit defeat on this sad day. My fantasy football team, is no longer in first place.