Proudly Not Caring Since 1978

I’m tired of apologizing for not being a competitive person.

The first time I realized I was different from other kids in this respect was in AWANA. I understood why memorizing Bible verses was important. It had a purpose. But what was the purpose of running around a circle, handing a baton off to some other kid, and waiting anxiously in line to see who “won” the race? There’s no purpose in that (especially not if you’re a fat kid). I didn’t care if the Red Team won or the Blue Team won. I mean, who cares? It served NO PURPOSE. But judging by the gleeful expressions of the “winners” or sorrowful foot stomping of the “losers,” it mattered to these kids.

When it came to summer camp, the counselors would try to whip us into a fanatical frenzy to beat the Bible Thumpers or the Flaming Fundamentalists or whatever stupid Camp Joy or Camp Northland nickname they had chosen for the camp units that week. They’d force us to make up inane cheers on how our team was better. Then they’d take us out into a mud covered field and make us toss a giant beach ball back and forth to see which team would drop it first.

So there I stood, knee-deep in mud, listening to the breathless cheers and excitement of my sister campers, trying to make myself care. I never could. And I never let on, since a perceived lack of team spirit at either camp could have left me battered and bloodied on the field, with SPOILSPORT tattooed across my forehead.

I have the same feelings toward competitive Vacation Bible School. Isn’t there a better way to teach children about God’s grace, mercy and love than pitting them against other kids in a battle to the death? I mean, really. Is that how Jesus operated? Surely, there is better way.

Don’t get me wrong. I like to play sports, and I like board games. But I’m just in it for the fun. Deep down, I like the fellowship of being with other people and matching wits or skills. I loved playing volleyball because I loved the girls on my team, and I enjoyed improving on my skills. But I never felt the thrill of victory or the agony of defeat. All I really cared about was the time spent together with my friends on the bus on our way to and from games. Really.

That’s what I don’t get about professional sports. I mean, we pay these guys obscene amounts of money to run around chasing a ball. How stupid is that? It serves no purpose! I understand sports at the high school level – exploring the values of teamwork and athletic improvement, but after that it gets real fuzzy on why I should care.

Speaking of games, have you ever played a board game with very competitive people? I mean, they really get into it. And when they lose – watch out! Their moods darken and they are inevitably sour the rest of the evening.

I spring from a non-competitive family, and I’m married to a non-competitive man. We are the sort of people who are entirely willing to sell you all our property in Monopoly for $1 just to make the game end. We’re the people who cheerfully head back to Start in SORRY. We’re there for fun. It doesn’t matter to us.

But being non-competitive carries a stigma. In AWANA, I memorized a LOT of Bible verses, but no one wanted me on their team, since I didn’t care about the baton race. In school, I didn’t have “school spirit” since I refused to go hoarse yelling in support of a team of cocky, arrogant Christian school boys to win a stupid trophy that would just sit in a case anyway. In adult life, people get frustrated when I don’t feel or act crushed when they “beat” me at a game. Usually, I’ll clear the board, give a smile, and say, “You want to play again?” And they woefully shake their heads.

And what good does competition bring anyway? These sports fanatics who actively hate other teams – what does that teach our children? What does it say about our society? What about the seemingly endless money we throw at school, college, and professional sports? Think of all the PURPOSEFUL things that money could be used for. Such as the arts – things that make people actually think. Things that make for a better society.

So, that’s it. I refuse to feel bad about not caring who wins or loses, anymore.

You care, okay? You can care for me.

Go, Bears! (That’s for my mom.)