Boise State's upset of Oklahoma in the Fiesta Bowl vividly illustrated what I, and most people, view as more a nice sentiment than a hard and fast truth: It doesn't really matter if you win.
On the scoreboard, Boise State had won 43-42 (in overtime). Ian Johnson's two-point conversion run, on the old Statue of Liberty play, capped one of the most exhilarating finishes I've ever seen, in any sport and at any level. But what if he'd been stopped shy of the goal line? Would that have made Boise State's effort any less heroic? Sure, they would've been lauded for almost pulling off the upset, but the praise would have been minuscule compared to the accolades victory brought.
Oklahoma deserves a lot of credit, too, for showing poise and fortitude when it fell behind by 18 points in the second half.
Instead, it's been thoughtlessly bestowed the role of Goliath. Think how ridiculous this scenario is: If Johnson scores those two points, Boise State is declared the better team; if he doesn't, Oklahoma is the better team.
It sounds trite to us when a coach says, "Neither team deserved to lose this game." That statement can be very true in one sense, but very misleading in another. Certainly one cannot truthfully say that Boise State is even a marginally better team than Oklahoma, because point totals are not truly indicative of a team's overall effort and execution. The way both teams exerted themselves and performed so admirably makes the final score almost an insult, a weak quantification of what transpired.
Indeed, neither team deserved the fate of defeat.
However, that sentiment — which I've heard uttered only after intense, close games — implies that more often than not, somebody deserves to lose. That's true much of the time, but I've seen games where an overmatched team still played as hard and as passionately as — and sometimes more than — its opponent. But a final score of 42-7 won't prompt a coach to say, "Neither team deserved to lose."
What has been lost amongst the closely scrutinized standings and rankings is the heart and soul of sports. The sabermetric, stat-parsing, hyper-analytical mindset that now dominates the sports world can't measure effort, heart, sportsmanship, or any of the other qualities that make for true greatness. I've seen losing teams that, because they possessed those qualities in abundance, I thought possessed far more greatness than their conquerors.
The Boise State-Oklahoma game reminded me of how such greatness is achieved. In no way can the BCS rankings or the AP poll or anyone else's opinion define either of these teams or what they did on that night of January 2. Not that people won't try.
I find myself guilty of such an approach in my everyday living. Like the concept of "winning isn't everything," I know in my head that receiving praise for good works or for my writing will not make me a winner. It might to the world, but not to God.
I'm not going to win first place all the time, and I'm not going to win all my spiritual battles. I too often find myself despairing because of what I perceive as defeat, either because of a sin I'm struggling with or because I failed to effectively witness to someone.
With all the losing I experienced during my youth athletic career, you'd think I'd have learned by now that defeat, and the pain it brings, is temporary. When it comes to my real-life struggles, defeat isn't merely temporary. It isn't real.
God doesn't grade me on my spiritual performance, but on how well I let Him perform through me. Whatever spiritual defeat I experience in this life isn't defeat, but an opportunity to grow; it brings me a step closer to realizing the victory that is already mine in Jesus.
That's the only kind of winning that matters.
