The Competitive Edge

I have to admit to being feircly competitive. This is a good thing, as I would otherwise not fit in with my entire circle of friends who also display this trait.

Let's face it, everyone likes to win. Winning is fun. No matter what it is, if you're going to compete, you may as well compete to win.

Of course, sometimes you don't and it is here that true character is displayed. While I like to win, I'm not a sore loser. I don't sulk, question the rules/umpire/fates or stomp off in a huff. It's more like "Congratulations! Well done! Let's play again ..."

I have been told, however, that I'm a very bad winner. It's not that I gloat over my defeated adversaries - perhaps that would be better. No, I just get a little bit smug. Or so I'm told. In fact, I'm told that the aura of smugness that emanates from me after a convincing win is so vast that it inspires all other competitors with a burning desire not to let it happen again.

This may explain the events of the other night when playing a new game to celebrate Arizaphale's birthday. It was a "who am I", "what am I", "where am I" type of thing where everyone has to yell out the answer as soon as it comes to mind. If wrong, you're out of that round and more clues go to the remaining players. Lots of fun.

I was winning.

It was at this point that a discussion commenced about winning and losing and our attitudes towards it. Arizaphale immediately proclaimed that she was not in the slightest bit concerned about losing. Couldn't care less. It was the fun of the game that mattered and enjoying the company of friends. No, no. She didn't mind losing at all.

Except to me.

Just the thought of me being two up on the game tally was enough to turn a social passtime into a "no holds barred" pressure cooker of a match. Volume and vehemence went up several notches as answers were shouted out and the umpire's decision questioned on every tight call. "Oh she so did NOT get the answer in first!" "Not fair! That question was too easy - give her another one!" So it went on (to no avail, I might add) for the remainder of the evening.

Why is this so? Perhaps the ersatz sibling rivalry that we have enjoyed over the course of our forty-something year friendship is at the root of it.

This does not, however, explain my Beloved Mumford's very similar response.

He has recently introduced me to the joys of the $3 trifecta. A fun way to pass the time while enjoying a beverage or two at the pub, it involves some consideration of form, conditions, odds etc. leading to an educated punt on the three horses (or dogs) that will lead the pack to the finish line. At least it is for my Beloved. For me it's rather more of a "that one looks nice" sort of thing although I am slowly making sense of the arcane information provided by the TAB.

Not that it generally does me much good. Yesterday, however, I managed to pick the winners in the first race and collected an $86 payout for my modest investment. Woo hoo!

And what was my Beloved's response? Was it "Well done, darling! Congratulations on your win!" accompanied by loving glance and, perhaps, a peck on the cheek?

No. It was "F*%& off, you b*%#&!" accompanied by unfriendly hand gesture. Well, really!

On later enquiry it was established that he didn't have any objection to me winning. He just didn't want me to win more than he did. Hmmmm. Something of a theme developing here...

Of course, I'm not the only one. I remember that the Banker and I had a great fondness for "Risk" and would play it incessantly with anyone who would play with us. Unfortunately, that number dwindled in a frighteningly short space of time to zero. "Want to play a game of Risk?" we would say to our friends. "Not with you." became the regular response, and we could never quite figure out why. Finding new friends simply for the purpose of making up a risk game became our only option, but proved an excercise in futility.

Thinking on it, it must be said that the Banker's Smug-o-Meter on winning is similar to mine which is perhaps why it doesn't bother us in each other. We've taken to two handed games (our favourite being Samba in which I am consistently beaten at about a 3 to 1 ratio) but his removal to Old Blighty has put paid to that. *Sigh*

I know! Perhaps I could interest my Beloved in learning how to play 'Spite and Malice'. Or perhpas not for the sake of domestic harmony.

Now where was that jumbo quiz from the Sunday paper ...