A few weeks ago I saw a moment that encapsulates something wonderful about education, about competition, and human dignity. It was the last seven seconds of a basketball match – a sport I rarely follow – but it wasn’t only the basketball itself that was so impressive, and it has stuck in my mind.
We were hosting the South East Asian School Activities Conference (SEASAC) basketball tournament, and our U19 boys team were up against the reigning champions in the tournament final. We had squeaked past them in an initial round, but if truth be told, they had looked a bit sharper and faster than us, and we went in as equals, at best.
The hall was packed with supporters from both sides; and the match was fast, aggressive and physical. It felt extremely tight to watch, but as the quarters passed, we stretched an initially tiny lead to 10 to 20 to 30+ points. To my mind the 97 – 62 score as we approached full-time did not really do the soon-to-be-ex-champions justice. And they knew it, as they became increasingly frustrated and the tension levels rose. Our team had given them no quarter, and the relentless pressure and grind had had a psychological effect. If you have ever seen teams of strong, fast, athletic teenage boys competing physically, you’ll know what I mean; they were flustered, red-in-face and beginning to be a bit scrappy. There were seven seconds left when their coach called a time-out.
I heard a few comments from the crowd; “I’m looking forward to seeing this strategy!” or “Really? C’mon coach!” But these were not from teachers; because it was obvious to educators what the coach was doing – he was looking past the game and the tournament; he was talking to the boys who had gone in to the tournament with high hopes; who had played their hearts out, and who were confronting their loss and exhaustion. He was telling them that the match was lost, and so the question now was how they would react; it could be in disappointment and irritation, and perhaps anger at the calls that did not go their way. Or they could take a deep breath, hold their heads high and hold it together.
And that’s just what they did. After re-starting, they slowed it right down for the remaining few seconds, clearly having found a little calm in the heat of the moment. When the final whistle went they had a quick huddle and emerged to congratulate the winners and return the applause from the audience; their disappointment was bright on the faces, but in the crucial moment they learnt something about dealing with the world the way that it is, not the way they wanted it to be. The grace and dignity they recovered after being in a very different psychological space, was as impressive as any of the 3-pointers.
Our team won that match and the tournament; and I was so proud of them. But as I rose to feet with all the others at the end of the match, I was more convinced than ever about the value of intense competition in the right time and place, and done in the right way. I wondered who had learnt more that day – the winners or losers – and my applause was as much for the runners-up as for our own side.
