A group of friends and I have recently formed an ultimate Frisbee team, we play every Monday night.
Most of us have never played before so the game’s are usually an entertaining display of flailing limbs and spectacular, if unfruitful, dives.
I’m told there’s a Frisbee in there somewhere too.
Anyway, having not really played competitive sport since high school, I’m a little worried about a certain, less-than-attractive, personality trait re-emerging.
My name is Bridget and I’m a bad loser.
Under normal circumstances, it’s repressed or avoided.
Board games with the boyfriend’s folks are lost with a clenched jaw, tight smile and lots of slightly-too-loud, fake laughter.
My condition however, came to a head, as most things do, when travelling.
There’s a lot of waiting around, a lot of killing time, so cards seemed like a good idea.
It was fine when I was winning.
But then there was the other 85% of the time..
“Shut up. Doesn’t count.”
“I hate you. This is a stupid game anyway.”
“Next game wins? Oh ok. How about 52 pick-up, you bastard.”
Yes. Upon losing, I regress to a petulant five-year old, albeit one with a lot of bad language.
I often catch myself thinking: “Chill! Why does it matter?!”
Then the scary, angry voice kind of growls in reply, “Oh. It matters.”
I’d be a little worried if I was our competition tonight; we’re not very good and seem to have a habit of losing.
So there’s a good chance I’ll be going after them.