Defeat

Defeat is not a stinging pain; it is a lead blanket that descends upon your chest when the final buzzer sounds. The fiery anger that fueled your motions on the field is extinguished and you suddenly become aware of how difficult it is to move your limbs. The adrenaline drains. The spirit shatters. The impossible hope that your team could score ten goals to catch up in the last quarter of the game seems childish and you hate yourself for even considering it. Eye contact with teammates is rare, and if it does occur, it is unintentional. The turf beneath your feet dominates your field of vision as you fight the moisture gathering at the corners of your eyes.

Then the coach speaks. He speaks softly, but there is heartbreak and disappointment in each syllable. It is more painful to hear than furious screaming. You shrink at his words as a taunting slideshow of your mistakes runs on loop in your mind: you missed the ground ball, you let your opponent race by, you shot wide on the free position. That lead blanket keeps gaining mass and breathing becomes a strained and voluntary action. If only the earth would split beneath your feet and swallow you so that this pain and disappointment could end. But it wont.

You sleep. You rise. It is a new day and a new game. The defeat still exists, but the pain doesn't have to. In lacrosse and in life, you can carry your defeat with you into the next day, or you can leave it on the field and grow stronger for the next battle. Throw off the lead blanket and prepare for victory.