When I was growing up, I played sports.  Basketball was what I eventually settled on by high school but prior to that I also played baseball and ran track.  When there was a tournament during the year or the playoffs at the end of the season, there were winners and there were losers.  The winners got the trophy.  The losers did not.  You’re already a little shocked, aren’t you?  Is it the bit about the trophies, or the fact the team or player not winning was actually called “loser?”

Of course that was then.  This is now. 

Now, no one is a loser and everyone gets a trophy.  And that bothers me.

The other night before taking my daughter into her ballet class, my wife told me I’d need to make sure the school had her name spelled correctly for the trophy she’d receive after her recital.  The trophy?  After the recital?  It’s a ballet class for five-year-olds, not the North American Pixie Ballet Grand Jeté Competition on ESPN.  Right?

These days, what’s most important is that we honor participation by sending kids home with the hardware.  We applaud the effort, pat the kids on the back, say “Well done Mimsy, way to go Spike!  You struck out every at-bat the entire 30-game season but you know what, you deserve a trophy.  And look right there – your name!  How ’bout that!” 

Following that line of reasoning, maybe the best kid on the team . . . 11-year-old Bud . . . who batted .465, hit 53 home runs and had  64 RBI’s should get a trophy, first-class round-trip tickets to Hawaii and an oceanfront suite for the entire family. 

If we’re in such a rush to honor the participation, why not reward Bud’s excellence accordingly?

Right about now, some of you are glaring at me.  Don’t turn away, I see you.  Others of you are glaring and flat-out screaming at me.  And even more of you are already writing a nasty email.   Why?  Because you think I don’t get it.  You’re sure I’m The Grinch Who Hates Trophies.  You’re saying, “Ok smart guy, wait until you see the look on your daughter’s face when she gets that trophy.”

Exactly.

It’s that look, that sense of entitlement, that concerns me.

At a dance class recital it’s not enough to wear beautiful costumes while performing in a real theatre with musical underscoring, lights and scenery in front of a sold-out, energized live audience.  No, the evening won’t be complete without . . . a trophy.  Apparently the memory won’t last unless there’s a trophy on the shelf serving as a constant reminder.

Somewhere along the road of athletic competition, arts participation and “it’s not whether you win or lose, it’s how you play the game,” we as a society became enamored with evening everything out.  Somehow, it’s better to acknowledge showing up rather than rewarding excellence.

This may not be the 1960′s or 70′s, but have things really changed that much?

When I competed in sports, spelling bees, music competitions and debates, I never once felt I deserved a trophy – or any symbol of acknowledgment – if I didn’t win.  For that matter, I didn’t feel that way when I finished second or third, either.  We played hard and we competed to win.  But we were taught, every step of the way, that losing was a part of the equation.  Losing, and learning to accept it gracefully, was tied to winning.  Even in the Olympics, second and third place receive medals as a reward for doing exceptionally well but that’s it.  There’s no medal for fourth or lower.  And only the one left standing on the highest podium is called Olympic Champion.

Today, some will say, there are no losers.  Everyone is a winner.  But everyone is not a winner.  Everyone should be applauded for participating and everyone should be encouraged to keep participating.  But to set up a scenario where, win or lose, you get a trophy/medal/prize sends the wrong message. 

I am of the belief we are setting our kids up for major letdowns with this “you’re all winners” idea when they discover life, well before they’re adults, doesn’t reward everyone at every turn.

If there’s a 16-team hockey tournament for kids, let’s say they’re 10 years old and under, give trophies to the champions.  Give trophies to the second and third-place teams.  And the other 13 teams – shake hands with the kids, thank them for their hard work and say “good luck and I hope we see you next year!” 

The kids won’t suffer if they go home from a hockey, basketball, baseball, debate or dance competition empty-handed.  The ones who are competing simply to have fun will have done exactly that:  They competed and had fun.  And the kids playing for higher stakes – not coming in first, second or third place will make them work harder to get a trophy the following year. 

Life is a series of uphill climbs, not one long plateau.  When you’re unsuccessful at something, what defines you is how you respond after your setback, not the setback itself.  I’d rather see kids rewarded for participation with positive, verbal reinforcement.  And the kids who stand out above the rest, the kids who achieve a level of excellence surpassing all the others, reward them with something that fairly acknowledges that effort.  Like a trophy.

The beauty of a level playing field is that its players are not all equal.

gator illustration, courtesy ffmradio.com