John Y’s Musings from the Middle: Politics and Summer Camp

Politics and summer camp.

I guess my father was right. Funny, it took 36 years for me to understand clearly the point he was making.

When I was 13 years old I went to summer camp in North Carolina for seven weeks. I didn’t want to go but once I got there loved it. I had the time of my life, made new friends, and didn’t want to leave when it was time to come home.

The night before camp ended there was an awards ceremony. Sort of like senior superlatives in high school. I’m sure most every camper got an award but I was covetous toward the award I was expecting. I had overheard the counselors say I wasn’t going to get “Best basketball player” (which is what I wanted). But I would get “Best all-round athlete.” At first, it sounded like a made-up consolation prize. But the more I thought about it, the more I liked the way it sounded. And maybe I did deserve it. I thought of my highlights that summer in kick-ball, softball, soccer, hide-and-seek with a flashlight, treading water for 30 minutes, Zip line, and dodge ball and decided it was an even better award than what I had originally hoped for—and now I wanted it even more than the initial award I desired. And couldn’t wait to hang it in my bedroom back home for all my friends to see.

And now the moment had arrived. I could tell the master of ceremonies was talking about me. I was so excited when he called my name I didn’t even listen for the title of the award. I just went up front, took the hand-carved and hand-painted award (about the size of a miniature license plate, and sat down jubilant.

Until I looked down and read what what I had won. “Best Sportsmanship Award” was written in what looked like green and yellow nail polish. What?!!? What happened? How did I go from potential “best basketball player” to “best all-round athlete” to this? Who wants to be a good sport? I mean, that’s just saying I am a pleasant loser, right? And seems to imply I am bad at every sport since I have to be so nice about losing all the time—and I must lose a lot to stand out enough for an award for how well I do it!

I felt about the same way I did as when I was at Bruce Zimlich’s second grade birthday party at Lyndon Lanes bowling alley and his mother gave my a prize even though I had the lowest bowling score of any of the kids at the party.
She explained, “I had won!”
“But how?” I asked, remembering my abysmal score and frequent gutter balls.
“Well, John, it’s called a ‘Booby Prize.’ It’s the prize for finishing in last place” she said smiling, trying to put a happy face on my “award.”
“How awesome,” I probably thought to myself sarcastically. And looking at my sportsmanship award that night, I was having similar thoughts.

But when my father saw the award tossed to the corner of my bedroom desk, he picked it up and praised me for it. He effused about how important it was in life to always be a good sport, to be “man enough” (person enough) to shake hands and congratulate the winner and never to sulk or whine or start making excuses for when you lost. Or gloat when you won. And recited from memory a poem he and my grandfather liked –one of those inspirational sports poems that drove the point home.

I believed some of it, I guess. But not all. Until tonight.
I was reflecting on the 2000 and the 2012 presidential elections. Hard fought battles with so much seemingly on the line for the two major political parties and their supporters.

I was a good sport in 2000 when the candidate I voted for lost in a heartbreakingly tight election. And I didn’t gloat when the candidate I supported won in a similarly close election last Tuesday. And it made me think about my “Best Sportsmanship” award at summer camp in 1976. Finally, all these years later, I realized it was a good award to receive and something to be proud of.  And that being a good sport in life really is important. Just like my dad said. No matter how old you are.