The Triple Crown
Watching the US open tennis last week, I was listening to the commentators discuss the near-unfathomable difficulty involved in a player winning all three major tennis championships in one year, and how special such an achievement would be.
It made me think of how the sports world is rife with such milestones. Whether it’s horse racing’s Triple Crown, the tennis Grand Slam, the football perfect season, or perhaps the terrifyingly daunting hot dog challenge of the competitive eating circuit – the greatness of the achiever goes down in the annals of history, and rightfully so.
But when I witness an athlete achieving such a milestone, my immediate reaction is, “I have nothing in common with this individual,” and “I will never be as good at anything as (insert athlete’s name) is at (insert relevant sport).” I am merely good at a few things, and I will never be a true champion at one thing. I like a good hot dog now and then, maybe i’ll even have 2 in one sitting, but I am not Takeru Kobayashi. I admit this is a pathetic outlook to have, but it’s just how i feel.
Well, that’s at least how I felt before last week. Last week I was in Scotland with three friends. Between extra innings of haggis and English breakfasts, the four of us managed to drink our way through a raucous wedding reception, leaving us pretty haggard the morning after, but it was at that point that we all decided to “dig deep”, “push it to the max”, and if you’ll indulge me in one last sports metaphor, “give 110%” of our collective efforts to our newly adopted cause. And the cause? To be gloriously intoxicated – and then sober – in 3 separate Scottish cities within a 24 hour period.
We succeeded. In Aberdeen, in the wee hours of the morning, as our friend’s wedding celebration winded down, we were all still blotto. We sobered up on the train. We made it to Glasgow, caught a footie match, and in the process, got sauced. Then we sobered up on the train once again. Finally, we made it to Edinburgh, where we became comfortably blitzed. All good things happen in 3’s. No big deal.
But where was our trophy? Where were the accolades; the fanfare? There were none. But that was fine by us because, like all great athletes, we didn’t do it for the glory – we did it for the love of the game. Chew on that, A-rod.
