Steven V. Roberts teaches politics and journalism at George Washington University.
In his entertaining new book, “Losing Isn’t Everything,” TV sportscaster Curt Menefee pays special attention to the losers in the sports world.
No matter what they accomplish over their careers, some athletes will always be remembered for one bad moment. Sometimes their obituaries will highlight a loss, not a victory.
Take Lou Michaels, a two-time all- American lineman and place kicker at the University of Kentucky. He finished fourth in the Heisman Trophy balloting in 1957, was the fourth pick in the pro draft and played 13 seasons in the NFL. In 1967 and 1968 he helped the Baltimore Colts compile an astounding record of 26-2-2.
But on Jan. 12, 1969, in Super Bowl III, he missed two field goals in the first half, and the New York Jets, behind quarterback Joe Namath, won the game 16-7. When Michaels died in January, the headline in the New York Times read: "Lou Michaels, All-Purpose Player, Dies at 80; Missed Kicks in '69 Super Bowl."
The stories behind sports setbacks tease and tantalize: the catch not made, the shot not defended, the race not finished. John Pelphrey was a Kentucky player assigned to guard Duke star Christian Laettner with 2.1 seconds left in the regional finals of the NCAA basketball tournament in 1992. Kentucky led by one point, but Laettner evaded his defenders, caught a long pass and sank a shot with 0.3 seconds left — one of the most famous moments in college basketball history.
“I felt like the guy took the ball out of my hands,” Pelphrey later recalled. “I had the sensation of my hands actually touching the leather. It wasn’t until several days later that I realized that I never got close.”
Rodney Harrison was an all-pro defensive back for the New England Patriots when they played the New York Giants in the 2008 Super Bowl. The Giants were trailing 14-10 when they got the ball on their own 17 yard line with less than three minutes remaining. On a key third-down play, Giants quarterback Eli Manning spotted receiver David Tyree, who had caught just five passes during the entire season.
Menefee describes what happened next: “ ‘All I saw was a wide receiver running down the middle,’ Rodney said. ‘I’m hauling butt over there.’ He got there in time, and when Tyree jumped for the ball, Rodney jumped right with him. ‘I thought I knocked it down,’ he said. He didn’t. Tyree pressed the ball against his helmet and held on even after Rodney wrestled him to the ground. Some have called it the greatest catch in Super Bowl history.”
New York scored and won the game 17-14. Tyree had made “a one-in-a-million catch,” the defensive back lamented. “What can you say?”
This book is not about just flashes of failure but their lingering impact. It’s an ambitious idea and not always successful. Some players coped well, others did not. Their accounts can seem repetitive and obvious. Yes, we know, defeat can make you a better person.
But the stories are still compelling, and some refused to be defined by defeat. There's Jean Van de Velde, a French golfer who had a three-stroke lead going into the final hole of the British Open in 1999. All he needed was a six, two over par, to win. But every shot went wrong. He carded a seven, fell into a three-way tie for first and lost the playoff. "No player in golf, in any sport, ever lost quite like this," the author writes.
Yet Van de Velde today sees a positive side to his debacle. No walls, no wails. “It’s nice to see that you trigger a reaction in somebody,” he says. “Why do we play sport? Why do we watch sport? . . . You want those who actually play the game, whatever kind of game, to trigger joy or pain in you.”
Others let a moment of misery shape their futures. We don't know what lies ahead for Shaw and Martinez, but Calvin Schiraldi offers a cautionary tale. He was pitching for the Boston Red Sox against the New York Mets in the World Series of 1986. The Sox led 5-3 in the 10th inning of the sixth game and were one out away from winning their first championship since 1918. But Schiraldi gave up three straight hits, and the Mets went on to win the game and then the series. In the seventh game, Schiraldi gave up three more hits and three runs, and the Mets won 8-5.
He never really got over those games, in part because fans wouldn’t let him. “Eighty-six! You suck,” they yelled. “You lost the World Series.” Schiraldi built walls to protect himself from the abuse, and, as Menefee writes, “the problem is he’s still putting walls up, from time to time, and he hasn’t thrown a pitch in twenty-five years.”
Those emotional barriers impaired relationships with his wife, his friends, even strangers who know him for just one thing — blowing the series. “I’m just waiting for the end of it,” he tells Menefee. “I want to be like I was before, when I was twenty-two or twenty-three.”
Losing Isn’t Everything
The Untold Stories and Hidden Lessons Behind the Toughest Losses in Sports History
By Curt Menefee with Michael Arkush
Dey St. 255 pp. $26.99
