Competition by Gillian

It’s just not a part of my reality: my psyche. As far as I can tell, in retrospect, neither of my parents had a competitive bone in their body. So I come by competitiveness, or the lack of it, honestly. The only kind of competition they introduced me to, if it’s worthy of the term, was of the why don’t you see if you can do a little better next time variety; competition with myself. So it’s hardly surprising that I consider that to be the only contest worth the winning; making myself just a little better every time.

I remember, back in the John Elway days, the first time we, by which I mean the Denver Broncos, lost the Superbowl. On the local news following the game they gave out phone numbers of local therapists standing by to help Bronco fans deal with their emotions. I was simply amazed. It’s a game, for God’s sake, not World War Three.

Years ago, perhaps in the late ‘50’s, I read an article in I know not what newspaper or magazine, written by a Brit, claiming that Britain was a “good enough” country. We had lost our drive for perfection and were happy to settle for “good enough.” I’m not sure of this, but I think my attitude, which undeniably has a certain shade of “good enough,” in it, as did that of my parents, and the country at large, might have stemmed from World War Two. And perhaps a carry-over from World War One.

In a country subject to harsh rationing during, and for years after, World War Two, meals were frequently “good enough,” and that often required a ton of positive thinking. When Churchill reviewed the rations he judged them adequate, until he was told they were for a week, not a day as he had supposed. With one egg and one ounce of cheese a week, it is actually very positive to be able to proclaim a meal, “good  enough.”

During and after the First War, women took up jobs which were traditionally “man’s work.” In Britain roughly two million woman replaced the men who had left to fight, so many of whom were destined never to return. Many women took over this work by choice, but many, especially in country areas, had no choice. You had a farm to keep up and there were no men left to do the work, so women must do it. Given the situation, and knowing how hard all farming families worked even before the men left, I can well imagine exhausted and demoralized women struggling with overwork, much of it unfamiliar to them, tossing down the carpentry tools or stabling the plow horse and saying it would just have to be good enough. It’s hard to strive for perfection when you are inexperienced, exhausted, and overwhelmed.

I can imagine the same thing of many members of the upper class who lost most of their servants either directly or indirectly to the war. My Lord having to clip his own hedges for the first time in his life and Milady forced to mend her torn curtains, might well have finished their attempts saying, in effect, that it would “jolly well have to be good enough.”

I very much doubt that Britain is a “good enough” country these days. I’m sure there is as much perfection per capita as anywhere else. And prior the two world wars, the British were responsible for many inventions; everything from Isaac Newton’s telescope to the steam engine, spoked wheels to cement, chocolate bars, and jet engines. Inventions may occasionally be due to some accident or mistake, but they are rarely precipitated by a shrugged “it’s good enough.”

I often hear, though, even now, that the Brits frequently lack that killer instinct that fires you to be really competitive; to win at all cost. Britain still tends to cling to the idea that it’s how you play the game that matters, not whether you win or lose. That is very much the attitude my parents gave to me. I have never lost it. On the whole, although there’s certainly an argument to be made that humanity would have accomplished a great deal less, I think the world would be a better place without competition. I am, after all, an unapologetic peacenik, and what is war but the most extreme form of competition?

© February 2014

About the Author 

 I was born and raised in England. After graduation from college there, I moved to the U.S. and, having discovered Colorado, never left. I have lived in the Denver-Boulder area since 1965, working for 30 years at IBM. I married, raised four stepchildren, then got divorced after finally, in my forties, accepting myself as a lesbian. I have now been with my wonderful partner Betsy for 25 years.