Last night my local dodgeball team suffered a devastating loss that knocked us out of the playoffs. Though they were stacked with 2 ex minor league pitchers, who both managed to peg me right in the dick, we played a hard fought game but still came up short. Focus: So in a similar vein, tell us a story about your biggest loss? I'm a bit of a sports nut, so I'd prefer to see it go that way but hey if you got destroyed during your high school debate, that works too.
I think the funniest defeat came years ago during my first game of the season for summer Roller hockey. I scored the opening goal only five seconds into the game, and my team of people I din't know at all seemed confident. Then, the other team responded with EIGHTEEN UNANSWERED GOALS. Then, I scored with five seconds LEFT in the game (all true). I guess I wasn't aware beforehand that my entire team sucked and our goalie was drinking "Jungle Juice" out of his water bottle pretty much every game, but the was the biggest loss on the lousiest sports team I have EVER played for.
When I was in like 3rd grade I, like most kids, played on a summer YMCA soccer team. We were fucking terrible and I hated losing. One game this team beat us by some ridiculous score of like 20-0, and while we were going through the shake hands line some kid made a smart ass remark about how we sucked and thanks for letting us win. Cue me getting pissed and chasing after some kid while he's running towards his mom screaming "mommy mommy he's gonna kill me!!!" I also think I'm the only 3rd grader to be ever kicked out of a soccer game for swearing. I was pissed at my teammates for not trying and yelled "why don't you guys go after the dang ball" and the ref blew his whistle and kicked me out for swearing. Dumbfounded I stormed off the field and unleashed a tirade of cuss words, and as my mom tells the story, she was talking to one of the other moms about how I had started to get my temper during games under control and it was weird that I got kicked out for "saying dang because that wasn't in his repertoire of cuss words" and about that time I yell..."that's not fucking cussing, I'll show you fucking cussing you fucking asshole" and my mom says "now THAT sounds like Ryan."
I've played in the state finals for soccer twice and lost both times. The first was in a youth league when I was in grade school so that wasn't all that devastating, but the second time was in high school. We went to a shoot out, I was fourth in the order and my best friend was fifth. I make my shot and we're up one, so if he makes it we win. He ends up launching the ball over the net, something I've never seen him do, and the other team goes on to win in the next round of penalty kicks. We still don't talk about it.
I am in the midst of the finishing run a season for my UK universities American football team. It is our first season in the league and we are 0-6 at the moment. Not so great. I used to play rugby and have been in pieces after losing twice - consecutive years of the same tournament. My club would host a 10's tournament every year and we were knocked out in the semis 2 years in a row. I couldn't move through injury after either one and they both went some distance into emotionally destroying me. I broke up with my girlfriend at the time the day after one of these because I was accused of 'overreacting'. Guess I showed her what overreacting really was... Again in rugby in a national championship we drew with a rival team 3-3 after a ridiculously hard game. We were the home team so got knocked out. That was hard to take, especially after we had missed a couple of penalties. Thinking of these old rugby losses is just making me angry. I need to stop for my hearts sake.
On a rugby note, we were playing in the Division II Championship Match at the Savannah St. Patty's tourney last season. We were playing a team from Ohio and were up 11-10 in the second half. Our Samoan inside center takes a pass, takes a hard step inside that snapped the defenders ankles and trotted in for what looked like a sure try. Well, he decided to show off and passed the ball at the last second to the outside center (who hadn't scored all tournament), who subsequently dropped the ball and knocked it into the tryzone. We lost the 5m scrum and went on to lose 11-18.
First grade, the annual tug-o-war competition. We had some school bullies in our class that helped in the strength department. We had 3 or 4 practice matches with other classes leading up to the big day and we dominated them all. The gym teacher had us as favorites to win the whole thing. The big day came and we got stomped by our first two opponents and were eliminated. In eighth grade my friends talked me into joining the school wrestling team. Since I had never done sports before and wasn't athletic enough to advance very fast I was regulated to the B team. On our last tournament I only had two guys to beat to get a first place finish. I won my first match pretty easily and my second was a hard fought bout which was capped off with a GLORIOUS head and arm throw and a pinning. I was sure I had first place in the bag. Then some douche from the all guys school showed up late and they allowed him to compete. He only needed to face one of the guys I had beaten and then me, which would be his second match to my third. Well it was a lot tougher match then I could handle. My buddy yelled from the sideline to head and arm throw again but I whiffed the movement and let the guy grab me from behind, he shortly there after pinned me and I wound up in second place. One of the team moms tried to cheer me up with a picture with me second place medal, all I could do was shoot the camera the bird. Later that year I joined a springtime city wrestling league. On the way to our first tournament about an hour and a half into a three hour drive I realized I forgot the proper paperwork to wrestle. A couple of the dads pitched in and bought me another membership, it was 60-100 bucks I think, so that I could wrestle. It was held at a school and not being that much into the sport, just enjoyed my time fucking around with friends. I was almost disqualified for a no show after they had been calling my name over their system while I was in the lunch room with some friends. I made it to the mats and the black kid I was to wrestled turned to his friends and laughed "This kid's gonna be easier than a bag of chips." He was right, he tossed my sorry ass around and I got teched out (he scored 13 or so unanswered points which gave him the win). This was the last time I wrestled.
Worst ever was during my senior year of high school at individual wrestling sections. After 10 years of wrestling, it would be my last match that I would compete in. During the season, me and a buddy took turns wrestling in the 152 and 160-pound weight classes. When it came to sections, he won a wrestle-off that decided who would be at 152 and who would be at 160. It was very important because 152 was an easier weight to compete in for our section. At 160, however, there were four guys ranked in the state. Big difference. At the tournament, I won my first match in overtime after getting three takedowns in a row and a near fall in the third period. I scored nine points in about a minute. It was a huge victory for me, especially because I was wrestling up a weight class and he was considerably stronger than me. I lost the second match to a guy who had swiftly kicked my ass earlier that year. However, I won the third so I was up for a chance at medaling. I did not expect myself to go to state that year. Obviously I would have liked to, as I had been wrestling for years and wanted to end on a good note. After losing that opportunity when I lost the second match, all I wanted to do was get in the top 5. I had to. I had put in more work as a captain that year than any other and had entirely committed myself to the team. I was not about to let myself and them down. I knew the match ahead of me was going to be difficult and I would need to wrestle my best to win. I did feel prepared, but not for what happened. I got pinned in the second period. I made a poor mistake and got headlocked. As soon as the referee slapped the mat, I knew my time wrestling was over. After that, it wasn't about not going to state or not even having a shot at the top 5- it was the fact that I would never competitively wrestle again. I stood up, calmly shook the guys hand, grabbed my stuff off the side of the mat, and promptly ran to a stairwell and absolutely lost it. That was the second time in the past four years that I've cried. I spent a good while there and couldn't get the loss off my mind for the rest of the day. My 10 years of wrestling would have been over that day anyways, but I didn't want it to happen that way. Not by getting pinned because I made a wrong step and got headlocked by some prick from the suburbs.
I'll try to keep this interesting: Running was my life. I wasn't naturally fast. I didn't have incredible endurance. My stride wasn't perfect. My body type wasn't ideal. I was clumsy, I was awkward, and I could absolutely tolerate more pain than anyone on the course. People that could run negative splits had talent, in the sense that they could actually speed up. When I ran cross country, my strategy was to just start as fast as I could go, and then keep up that pace until the end. The summer before my senior season of cross-country, I was training for a marathon. I had the goal since I first began running in charity 5k's at age 9 (27:11 was my time that first race) that I would complete a marathon before I turned 18. My knees were always shot after cross-country season and I turned 18 that July, so it was that previous summer, or never. So I ran, a lot. I was out on a routine training run, 1.5 miles away from campus that pre-season, when I felt a pop in my lower back. Stubborn and used to running on pain, I ran/limped my way back to the "finish line." The next morning, I lifted myself out of bed, got in my car, drove to practice, and made it halfway around the track during our warmup lap before I fell stopped. I could run through a lot of pain, but not that pain. A week later I found out that "pop" was actually my back breaking. Running is an individual sport, and appropriately the worst defeats come not as a result of the competition, but as a result of yourself. My times were fast enough to make the team on a DIII school, but my back still hurts every time I go over 5-6 miles. I took up road cycling a bit later, and averaged a speed and distance that was decent, but then a bit of bad medical luck intervened and I had to stop that. Ever since, my endurance just hasn't been the same. I'd kill to be able to run like that again; that defeat was the beginning of the end for what semblance of athletic ability I had. It's depressing to think about it. But it turned out all right in the end.
Bullshit. One of the most heartbreaking losses of my entire life was in a game of beer pong with my best friend. We have a long standing rivalry so all of our games matches are pretty intense and usually close, but this one game took the game. It was a party at my house. My friend and I started a game. He started off on a hot streak and he scored 4 cups before I even had a chance to shoot. I came back and tied it 2-2, one of the cups came on behind the back. It came down to 1 on 1 and he sank the game cup. On my second shot I sank the cup too to force overtime. This OT I got the game cup but then he sank the cup to force another one. Now things started getting pretty tense and a crowd had gathered. Another OT. He sank all three without me having sunk a single one. So I had to make three cups in a row without missing. First shot I made, second shot I missed but got the ball back after a furious dive which ended up hurting my knee and made the behind the back. Made the one after that to force a 4th OT. Now bets started being placed. We decided that if he lost he would have to do 50 pushups with my foot on his back. If I lost, I would do a double shot that was half liquor, and half hot sauce. 4th OT began with me making the first shot then missing. Then he made one shot as well. 2-2. I missed both on my next turn. He made both. I once again had to make several in a row to force another OT. I made the first one. Missed the second but got it back easily. Again, I had to make a behind the back shot to force another OT. I missed. Off the fucking rim. I almost cried. That shot fucking sucked.
It was during my 5th season of kart racing but only my 2nd in a shifter kart. I was about 15 at the time and we were at the National championships competing for the "Duffy", the most coveted trophy in North American kart racing. I qualified 2nd and ran a conservative heat race to save the tires for the final so I was starting on the 3 row. Everyone, including me, was expecting me to win the final, it was almost inevitable so I was pretty pumped going in and took off from the green flag amped up for a good race. Going in to turn one I went for an outside pass in the braking zone but the guy didn't leave enough room and my front wheel hit his rear wheel and broke the tie-rod, race over. My friend went on to win but I never got over that one.
Gah, another wrestling one. Senior year of wrestling, state tournament in Ohio. Won my first two matches, and had to wrestle someone I had beaten in freestyle the summer before by a point. It was a good match, but in sort of a luck of the draw thing, he ended up winning by one. It sucked because if I would have won that I would have went to the finals of D-1 states in Ohio, and I would have had a great shot at winning the finals match. And then I ended up losing the next one too. So I ended up in fifth place, coulda been a state champ. But hell, I was still happy with fifth. It was a good way to cap off the many years spent in the sport.
My final year of Midget hockey our team made an impromptu playoff run, and we found ourselves in the District Final. We didn't have the most talent, but we had a shit-ton of heart and we had exceptional goaltending. I was captain that year, and was enjoying a pretty good playoff offensively. We were leading the semi-final 8-2 when our best player (by a longshot) took a slap-shot off his ankle and was done for the rest of the season. We went into the District Final knowing full-well that the other team was likely going to win. Never the less we made a great game of it. They lead 1-0 mid-way through the third period and had the puck in our zone. A pass back to their defender hopped over the stick, and I swooped in, grabbed the puck and was off to the races. Breakaway to tie the game! I skated down the left-side of the ice, made a move to the back-hand and then quickly back to the fore-hand before the goalie could adjust. I had NOTHING BUT NET to shoot at. I let the shot go, nice and low to the ice. DING!!!!!!!!! Off the goal-post! Their defenceman grabbed the rebound before I could sprawl after the loose puck. They came back in the other direction and scored about 30 seconds later. 2-0 final. Watching the other captain skate out to center ice to lift the trophy was devastating. I was named my team's MVP for the game, but it did little to console my sadness at the time. Easily the toughest loss I've ever personally endured playing sports.
My whole teenage years and into my early 20s I was never able to beat one of my best friends at golf. I was a pretty solid golfer playing off high single figures; however he was off 1 or 2 from about 14 and try as I might I was never able to beat him. I mean by my early 20's we had probably played 40 or 50 times and I had never won. Cut to about 23 or 24 and on a trip to Vegas we played TPC at Canyon (I think it is TPC Las Vegas now) only a couple of years after it had opened. I was on fire, I was having the round of my life. I was hitting every fairway and making every putt. I turned in 2 over and then held par until the 18th tee for a one stroke lead on my friend. At this stage in life I was playing off 9 or 10, so to be this low on top course was unbelievable, I think the week before I had shot a 16 or 17 over on a shitty public course. Two shot later I am on in two with a 12 footer for birdie, while my friend is in the bunker. The motherfucker then proceeds to chip in from the fucking bunker and like a chump I choke and three putt. Sure I had probably the best round I have ever played, sure I should be thrilled to shoot 3+ on a course like that but nope. That day will forever haunt me.
About a year ago I participated in a charity Dodgeball event. It was a personal loss, but I've never been so humiliated before. Up til 3 years ago, I was a Dodgeball God. My throw wasn't anything spectacular, but I could catch any Dodgeball that was within 10 feet of me. I had practically trained with Kickballs since the age of 3 preparing for Dodgeball to become an olympic sport. Much to my surprise when I arrived at the tournament to see Nerf Balls. That's right. A room filled with 150 grown adults using soft foam balls to play dodgeball. A couple practice tosses before hand had started to show that I was in no way prepared for Nerf Balls. Come match time I couldn't pull down a single ball. They had the oddest flight pattern that was often quite random. Several times it would curve at the last second causing it to hit one hand only before I could react. I then tried to throw a couple. Queue metaphors to girls throwing, but I couldn't get any mass or speed out of the throw. Throughout the first half of the tournament, I couldn't make a single play. I sequestered myself half way through to hide my humiliation. I was also invited back this year. My excuse not to go was almost as lame as my Nerf Dodgeballing Skills.
Fuck it. More wrestling. My senior year I was a captain of an Illinois Class A elite team. Regionals came around and I was in a stacked 171 bracket with a good chance at 2nd place. Two other top 10 wrestlers other than myself in the same regional. (Regionals advance 3 to sectionals, sectionals advance 3 to state.) My first match was against a hotshot freshman that had dealt me a cheap, nearly season ending knee injury in an early dual match. I wrestled through a shredded meniscus and cartilage to beat him 9-2 the first time. His only points were two escapes that I gave him. Cue to the regional match. I was up 17-3 late in the third period, laying a clinic on the kid. I decided that a tech fall would be the best way to finish his season. I went in on a high crotch to a double and lifted. Fucker didn't sprawl, but wrapped his legs around my waist BJJ style and his arms around my neck. I lost control in mid air and slammed him to the mat unintentionally. My shoulder hit his rib cage, snapping 3 of his ribs and tearing a muscle in his back. I was disqualified from the match for the illegal slam and as he couldn't continue, I was dropped from wrestlebacks after he defaulted the next match. I cried like a baby in an empty classroom as my wrestling career was over. Had I lost due to being outwrestled, I could have handled it. But it was for the fact that it was his own idiot move that cost me the season that it was just too much to handle.
My senior year in high school I lost my last match at the wrestling national championships due blood time, because the fucker I was beating punched me in the face. I don't really remember the details of the match beyond that but I'm pretty sure that's the worst athletic defeat I've ever suffered. Coincidentally that match was also the cause of one of the most painful experiences of my life, involving my nose, a pair of tweezers, and a pseudo-tampon that I'm sure all the wrestlers on here are familiar with (to this day I have a hard time watching that part of Total Recall).