Winning My First Championship

Want to Raise a Selfless Son?

How Team Sports Taught Me to Put Others Before Myself

If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.

—African Proverb

Winning as a team is more satisfying than winning by yourself. To this day—and I’m not afraid to admit it—I battle with selfishness. Everyone does a little, right? I like to think that I improve my selflessness a little every year through the triumphs and adversities I experience. My parents have been drilling the idea in my head that it’s better to be selfless than selfish since I was young. I always used to toss that to the side, though. I was of the mindset that I could figure everything out on my own and didn't need anyone else’s input.

But...I was wrong. It never really hit me that I could accomplish more with others until I won my first championship.

I was twelve years old at the time, a proud member of the rec league, the Tuft Jumbos. Previously, I had struggled in baseball—I was never as good as my peers and teammates—until this year. Boy, was that a fun year. I think I hit something like twelve home runs, which was by far the most in the league. I also ended up winning the MVP award, also known as the Lee Haertel Award. This was the same year my team won the rec league championship. I brought home three trophies in one day at the award ceremony: The Home Run King, The Lee Haertel Award, and a championship trophy. I went from being a no-name to the crowned MVP of the park in just one year. For one day, I felt like the king of the world.

Looking back six years later, you’d think what I remember the most would be grabbing my MVP trophy or hitting those twelve home runs. But the scene that comes to mind is when our leadoff hitter, Christian, crossed home plate to win the series' final game in walk-off fashion.

But I’ll never in my lifetime forget that feeling of pure enthusiasm when my teammate, Christian, scored, and we were crowned champions. I was not crowned a champion. We were. The Tufts Jumbos.

We were playing the Oklahoma State Cowboys in the championship. The three-game series was tied 1-1, and I was up to bat with the game tied in the bottom of the final inning. I was nervous. I had a chance to get the walk-off hit, so the whole season, in a way, was coming down to my at-bat. Christian got a big enough lead after the pitch to cause the catcher to rear back and fire a bullet back to third base in an attempt to back-pick Christian. The ball was overthrown. Christian scored, and I was right there to start the dog pile.

I’ll never forget how my nervousness eased up when that ball was overthrown. The pressure was no longer on me. My emotions flicked from anxiety to relief to thrill when the winning run was scored. Of all twelve of my home runs, I vaguely remember three or four of them. But I’ll never in my lifetime forget that feeling of pure enthusiasm when my teammate, Christian, scored, and we were crowned champions. I was not crowned a champion. We were. The Tufts Jumbos.

I look back on this experience as one of the most instrumental events that shaped me into the person I am today. After that day, I no longer wanted to work alone. I learned that I really did thrive in collaborative efforts. It was amazing to experience how much more I could accomplish when I’m part of a team and to see a brotherhood born through those efforts. When you’ve put in countless hours of hard work with other people by your side, you’ll find those who you can fall back on when things get tough. When you put in that behind-the-scenes labor with a group of people, you’ll form a bond with your team that’ll last through thick and thin. The audience might only see the results of your hard work. But you, along with your teammates, get to experience the process.

I carry this mindset with me to this day, and it’s more prevalent than ever in high school football. In football, you have to hold yourself accountable, or others, not just you, will be influenced. For example, if a center on the offensive line gets tired and decides to take a playoff, not only will he get yelled at by his coach, but his quarterback could be staring a season-ending injury in the face.

I remember a time in my sophomore year when we were in a pretty big playoff game against Holy Innocents. We were down by three with less than ten seconds to play in the fourth quarter, and our offense was all the way on the opposing team’s forty-five-yard line. The only chance we had left was a hail mary, and you could feel the confidence level was a little low. Our quarterback hiked the ball and dropped back in the pocket. We were all amazed at how long he had to throw the ball; the entire O-line was giving the quarterback and wide receivers an ungodly amount of time to make something happen. The hail mary was thrown—and caught!—in the end zone, winning the game after our receivers just wore down to the defenders to get open.

After the game, all the praise from the fans was directed toward the quarterback and wide receiver for scoring a fantastic touchdown. They deserved credit. But everyone on the team knew that most of the credit belonged to the offensive line. Without their determination, our quarterback would’ve been sacked, and we would have lost the game. This was just one of many examples of how in football, you sometimes have to show selflessness to win the big ones.

But the biggest lesson I will carry with me from high school football came from our head coach, Coach Dabbs. He always preached that we won and lost as an organization, top to bottom. After every game, win or lose; Coach Dabbs would make sure he gave credit to everyone involved in the process. This movement would change the word “organization” to “family.” His doing this made the kids who were watching and cheering us on feel like part of the team and excited them to come back and root for us. In the long run, the feeling of having a family led to our success and drive to want to get better. We really did have “strength in numbers.”

In the end, yes, it’s fun to win alone. It’s entertaining to be on top of everyone else for a little while. But that gets lonely. Fast. When you form a brotherhood and win for the brother next to you, you’ll get a special feeling that’s honestly second to none. I challenge you to go out and find a community or organization that piques your interest, to find people who will hold you accountable and who have similar goals in mind. I bet you may meet some of your closest, lifelong friends.

I’ll end the same way I started:

If you want to go fast, go alone.

If you want to go far, go together.