Angry Pope
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- Feb 2, 2006
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THE EDUCATION OF A LOSER
Daily Herald
For the past five years I have been competing in Master's Track and Field competitions throughout the United States. For the uninitiated, these are meets sponsored by the same governing body (USATF) that controls all track and field throughout the country. The program is designed for those 40 years of age and older. There are local, regional, national and even world championship meets in a variety of locales.
The national championships took place over the weekend of Aug. 3-6 in Charlotte, N.C. I was excited to attend, as I had achieved a modicum of success in such meets with two national titles and three runner-up finishes in a variety of disciplines, even garnering an age-group world record in one event and the top world mark in another. In addition, having passed my 50th birthday, a milestone that I have written about ad nauseum in this column, I was going to be participating at the bottom of my respective age-group -- a good thing and just the opposite of when you were younger and wished to be the oldest of your company. The stage was set for a satisfying weekend of competition and medals, justifying the four months of hard training that I had endured.
From the outset, I made an error in judgment. At the airport, I called a buddy and asked if the competition would have shot puts. He reassured me that they did and as a result I left my own shot behind because it was going to be a hassle taking it in my travel bag. I knew better but I did it anyway -- indolent swine that I am! You do not use someone else's glove in baseball or put on another guys pair of cleats for a football game, so why would you feel comfortable with someone else's implement? The reality is that I did not take along my own, and the result was I spent my six throws trying to find some semblance of continuity and failing miserably with a fourth-place finish.
In the discus, I did bring my own implement but was unable to use it. Unbeknownst to me, they had outlawed wooden discuses for this meet and as a result, mine could not be used in competition. In addition, I had trained taping two of my fingers together, as they had been broken during my football playing days. I understood that was within the rules -- until a judge pointed out that the NEW rule was nothing on your hands unless there was an open wound. With a strange discus and no grip of consequence, I threw so badly that I fouled on every throw or threw it out of the legal perimeter. I could not help but see how appropriate the writing was at the bottom of the ledger where my fellow competitors were listed. The last name was written "Christensen FOUL."
But the coup de grace that reinforced everything I had ever believed in Murphy's Law occurred in the hurdles. I had trained especially hard for this event and in fact, my times were nearly a full second better than anyone in the competition. I was certain to win and toward that end I showed up some 75 minutes before the event to get loose. But just as I put my butt down on the track to stretch, the hurdlers were called to the paddock for instruction. Because there was a race-walk proceeding along the track, I could not get loose out there and the result was a degree of consternation. When the race began I false-started and now was in true panic mode. Those that know anything about the hurdles know that you cannot press in this discipline but that is exactly what I did and after clobbering five hurdles -- I had not hit that many in a like number of months of training -- I did not finish, an ignominious end to a weekend that was eminently forgettable.
Those reading this will note something consistent throughout -- the previous three paragraphs. Excuses. All of them were legitimate concerns but from the time you begin any sort of organized sports you are taught that making excuses "... is for losers" or otherwise known as "the loser's lament." During my playing days at BYU back in the '70s, our offensive coordinator, Dwain Painter, would write on the corner of the blackboard before every game the phrase, "No Alibis, No Regrets." Sadly, after this weekend I had plenty of both, unbecoming of someone who prides himself on being a man of preparation and mental toughness.
A soldier once said, "Failure should be studied no less intently than victory if only to ensure that it is not repeated." Could I have arrived even earlier to the hurdles to get loose? Could I have brought the other discus that I had been working out with? Is it possible that I could have sucked it up and dragged my own shot put through the airport terminals? The answer to all of those queries, of course, is the affirmative. I had "met the enemy and it was me." Evidently you CAN "teach an old dog new tricks."
Hopefully for those reading, your respective lessons will not be quite as expensive, painful or cliched.
Todd Christensen is a former BYU running back and All-Pro tight end for the Oakland Raiders. He can be reached at .
Daily Herald
For the past five years I have been competing in Master's Track and Field competitions throughout the United States. For the uninitiated, these are meets sponsored by the same governing body (USATF) that controls all track and field throughout the country. The program is designed for those 40 years of age and older. There are local, regional, national and even world championship meets in a variety of locales.
The national championships took place over the weekend of Aug. 3-6 in Charlotte, N.C. I was excited to attend, as I had achieved a modicum of success in such meets with two national titles and three runner-up finishes in a variety of disciplines, even garnering an age-group world record in one event and the top world mark in another. In addition, having passed my 50th birthday, a milestone that I have written about ad nauseum in this column, I was going to be participating at the bottom of my respective age-group -- a good thing and just the opposite of when you were younger and wished to be the oldest of your company. The stage was set for a satisfying weekend of competition and medals, justifying the four months of hard training that I had endured.
From the outset, I made an error in judgment. At the airport, I called a buddy and asked if the competition would have shot puts. He reassured me that they did and as a result I left my own shot behind because it was going to be a hassle taking it in my travel bag. I knew better but I did it anyway -- indolent swine that I am! You do not use someone else's glove in baseball or put on another guys pair of cleats for a football game, so why would you feel comfortable with someone else's implement? The reality is that I did not take along my own, and the result was I spent my six throws trying to find some semblance of continuity and failing miserably with a fourth-place finish.
In the discus, I did bring my own implement but was unable to use it. Unbeknownst to me, they had outlawed wooden discuses for this meet and as a result, mine could not be used in competition. In addition, I had trained taping two of my fingers together, as they had been broken during my football playing days. I understood that was within the rules -- until a judge pointed out that the NEW rule was nothing on your hands unless there was an open wound. With a strange discus and no grip of consequence, I threw so badly that I fouled on every throw or threw it out of the legal perimeter. I could not help but see how appropriate the writing was at the bottom of the ledger where my fellow competitors were listed. The last name was written "Christensen FOUL."
But the coup de grace that reinforced everything I had ever believed in Murphy's Law occurred in the hurdles. I had trained especially hard for this event and in fact, my times were nearly a full second better than anyone in the competition. I was certain to win and toward that end I showed up some 75 minutes before the event to get loose. But just as I put my butt down on the track to stretch, the hurdlers were called to the paddock for instruction. Because there was a race-walk proceeding along the track, I could not get loose out there and the result was a degree of consternation. When the race began I false-started and now was in true panic mode. Those that know anything about the hurdles know that you cannot press in this discipline but that is exactly what I did and after clobbering five hurdles -- I had not hit that many in a like number of months of training -- I did not finish, an ignominious end to a weekend that was eminently forgettable.
Those reading this will note something consistent throughout -- the previous three paragraphs. Excuses. All of them were legitimate concerns but from the time you begin any sort of organized sports you are taught that making excuses "... is for losers" or otherwise known as "the loser's lament." During my playing days at BYU back in the '70s, our offensive coordinator, Dwain Painter, would write on the corner of the blackboard before every game the phrase, "No Alibis, No Regrets." Sadly, after this weekend I had plenty of both, unbecoming of someone who prides himself on being a man of preparation and mental toughness.
A soldier once said, "Failure should be studied no less intently than victory if only to ensure that it is not repeated." Could I have arrived even earlier to the hurdles to get loose? Could I have brought the other discus that I had been working out with? Is it possible that I could have sucked it up and dragged my own shot put through the airport terminals? The answer to all of those queries, of course, is the affirmative. I had "met the enemy and it was me." Evidently you CAN "teach an old dog new tricks."
Hopefully for those reading, your respective lessons will not be quite as expensive, painful or cliched.
Todd Christensen is a former BYU running back and All-Pro tight end for the Oakland Raiders. He can be reached at .