Lessons Learned from USMNT: How to Lose Victoriously
"You know, if we were in Portugal's place, we would have been really happy about the way this game ended," I overheard a guy say to his friend as they exited a bar (What a smart drunk dude!) on Sunday afternoon. The USA-Portgual World Cup match had just ended in a tie. "That's totally true," my friend, also overhearing, said to me.
It was true -- and it was a smart thing to say -- because Portugal had almost lost the game. Basically lost it.
USA could have had the win. We were so close. We should have won the game. There are plenty of reasons to believe this: At the ninety-minute mark, the official duration of a World Cup match, we had won the game; with only thirty seconds left in the actual game, we had won the game; We had lots of good saves; We had two solid goals; We believed, we believed that we would win.
Despite the fact that we both shared the same outcome, a 2-goal tie, Portugal was likely happier about the score than the US. This is because the US, leading up to the last thirty seconds of the game, was on track to win while Portugal, was on track to lose. For Portugal, the tie was a better-than-expected outcome.
In psychology, this line of logic is called counterfactual thinking. Our happiness is fueled by an assessment of our accomplishments against their alternatives. In fact, research has shown that bronze medalists are significantly more happy with their awards than silver medalists. The bronze medalist is thankful to have not lost while the silver medalist is disappointed at not having won gold. The silver medalist, like the US team, was so close to winning.
In late January, I wrote and submitted an article to a well-regarded online publication. Aware that the publication deals with a high volume of guest submissions, I decided I did not expect a response, let alone an acceptance. Imagine my elation, then, when I eventually received the following email:
Last week, I submitted a new, unpublished article to the same editor. This time around, I received an email response almost immediately. No big deal. I was expecting an email, anyway, I thought when I saw the notification. Unexpectedly, however, it was a rejection. Here I was, victim to counterfactual thought. Unlike the first rejection email, this one left me disappointed and unmotivated to try again (though I eventually will).
Today, despite our Game 3 loss to Germany, Americans across the country are rejoicing. Based on our historical performance and the skill of other teams, the US Team beat expectations and advanced out of the Group of Death.
It is not a win; it is a personal victory.
Like our friends on the soccer field, we all have goals, both personal and professional. To keep things simple, we identify obvious successes (in the effort to avoid obvious failures). "I am going to achieve this precise thing!" we tell ourselves. Having a guest post accepted by your favorite publication, for example. We fail to realize, however, that even in the most seemingly black and white situations (a match win or loss), there are relative successes and failures.
And it's these relative achievements, not the absolute ones, that significantly impact our sense of accomplishment and happiness.
Now, this doesn't mean that we should all sandbag our goals or expect to lose. But once in a while, it would help to remind ourselves that a goal is just a frame. There is a lot of space within that general frame -- a lot of net. Instead of giving up, I should be reminding myself that this editor is still willing to consider me in the future. That there are many other well-regarded publications in the world. That every article I write is better than the last. That I will only fail if I stop submitting.
It was true -- and it was a smart thing to say -- because Portugal had almost lost the game. Basically lost it.
USA could have had the win. We were so close. We should have won the game. There are plenty of reasons to believe this: At the ninety-minute mark, the official duration of a World Cup match, we had won the game; with only thirty seconds left in the actual game, we had won the game; We had lots of good saves; We had two solid goals; We believed, we believed that we would win.
Despite the fact that we both shared the same outcome, a 2-goal tie, Portugal was likely happier about the score than the US. This is because the US, leading up to the last thirty seconds of the game, was on track to win while Portugal, was on track to lose. For Portugal, the tie was a better-than-expected outcome.
In late January, I wrote and submitted an article to a well-regarded online publication. Aware that the publication deals with a high volume of guest submissions, I decided I did not expect a response, let alone an acceptance. Imagine my elation, then, when I eventually received the following email:
Thanks for sending this in. I'm afraid I was snowed under with submissions this past week and have only just given it a read. I really enjoyed it, but I see that you've published elsewhere in the meantime.
Hope to get a chance to work with you on a future story!Personal victory! The editor likes me. I am a shoe-in next time! I told myself.
Last week, I submitted a new, unpublished article to the same editor. This time around, I received an email response almost immediately. No big deal. I was expecting an email, anyway, I thought when I saw the notification. Unexpectedly, however, it was a rejection. Here I was, victim to counterfactual thought. Unlike the first rejection email, this one left me disappointed and unmotivated to try again (though I eventually will).
Today, despite our Game 3 loss to Germany, Americans across the country are rejoicing. Based on our historical performance and the skill of other teams, the US Team beat expectations and advanced out of the Group of Death.
It is not a win; it is a personal victory.
***
Like our friends on the soccer field, we all have goals, both personal and professional. To keep things simple, we identify obvious successes (in the effort to avoid obvious failures). "I am going to achieve this precise thing!" we tell ourselves. Having a guest post accepted by your favorite publication, for example. We fail to realize, however, that even in the most seemingly black and white situations (a match win or loss), there are relative successes and failures.
And it's these relative achievements, not the absolute ones, that significantly impact our sense of accomplishment and happiness.
Now, this doesn't mean that we should all sandbag our goals or expect to lose. But once in a while, it would help to remind ourselves that a goal is just a frame. There is a lot of space within that general frame -- a lot of net. Instead of giving up, I should be reminding myself that this editor is still willing to consider me in the future. That there are many other well-regarded publications in the world. That every article I write is better than the last. That I will only fail if I stop submitting.
Push yourself. Strive. But don't expect any obvious win. There is no such thing. Like a soccer match, life is mostly just a series of missed shots at your goal. And as long as you're consistent in your performance, as long as you remain happy and motivated, you, like our US team, will still advance -- even if you don't make a single shot in the net.
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