Second Place Is First Loser

Losing sucks. You try your best to be a good loser and be gracious in defeat and sometimes, that makes it even worse because the winner is always falsely nice in these situations. Essentially, they are sayin, "I'm so sorry you lost. But not as sorry as I would have been had I lost."

And I know losing. Believe me.

I've lost to Soda Popinski repeatedly, countless Texas Hold'em Hands, six straight times to Denny Doble in NHL '93, an argument about what three players made up Run TMC, 96-20 in an intramural hoop game, the Brady/Bledsoe argument, the eighth grade best dressed superlative, 4996 out of 5000 ping pong matches with my brother, my fingernail when I hammered it, the ability to hit a wiffle ball, Flint's awesome shotgun, Trivia Pursuit when I was up by five pie pieces, my shirt betting against the 2001 Patriots, my dinner the night I played "catch up" with Thornton and Turner at the Bruins game, that playoff game to my brother in Griffey Jr. Baseball for the N64, $85 dollars in change playing blackjack at 10 Hitching Post, my cell phone reception while asking a girl out, my bathing suit in a wave, lots of hair.

I've lost a $50 Banana Republic Gift Certificate, my black Puma pants, my Han Solo Ringer Tee, my Use Your Illusion I CD, my copy of Baby Proof, my copy of Gattaca on DVD, my UMass hoodie, an awesome Empire Strikes Back poster, sunglasses, my grad school diploma, that Whopper Cossari boought me on the way to white water rafting, every arm wrestling match, a huge bass, a margarita off the side of a boat, the cable bill every month, my lucky Hula Popper lure, a slice of Antonios on he street, pictures from high school, my ticket stub to the world premiere of Kill Bill, wiffle balls in gutters, my favorite baseball glove, my ability to form a coherent sentence, my ATM card on consecutive weekends, twelve straight hands of blackjack at Foxwoods, my sweet black bracelet, directions to my VCR, my Boba Fett pen, my ability to pre-game with twelve beers, a favorite pair of boxers, a sneaker in the mud of Mr. Meanie's yard, my big yellow Tonka Dump Truck, Stratego pieces, the spinner to Life, a twelve page paper in grad school, my brothers Bose head phone cover, my chapter reviews for Great Expectations in Mr. Roussell's English class, and countless golf balls across the courses of Massachusetts.

I've lost it while watching Billy Elliot, You Can Count On Me, Stand By Me, The Breakfast Club, Saving Private Ryan, Good Will Hunting, My Girl, Return of the Jedi, Love Actually, The Princess Bride, Before Sunrise, Gattaca, The Sixth Sense, High Fidelity, Sideways, and Before Sunset.

I've lost it while listening to Angeles, Wonderwall, Chasing Cars, The Trapeze Swinger, Pink Moon, Crystal Village, Some Way Some How, A Million Reasons, Sittin On the Dock of The Bay, Into The Mystic, No Mermaid, Chocolate, Tunnel of Love, Torch Singer, Say Goodbye, The Sound of Settling, Let Down, Trouble, Did You ever Look So Nice, Taxi Ride, Tell Me, and Fix You.

I've lost nine straight years in my fantasy baseball league, everything I've eaten on the annual camping trip, the seventh grade science fair, countless arguments, the coin flip to decide who was starting the Pee Wee All Star Game, the RBI title on the last day of the very next season, my temper, my ability to listen, my composure, loads of brain cells, touch with friends, the respect of friends, the trust of friends, memories of childhood, memories of high school, memories of college, memories of my twenties, memories of my thirties, memories of what I had for breakfast yesterday.

I've lost my father, my dog, my childhood home.

I've lost my way, my confidence, my positive attitude, my belief in love, my self esteem, my compassion, and my will to continue.

And I've lost an election.

And suddenly, that doesn't seem so bad.