Glorious in defeat
For
when the One Great
Scorer comes
To write against
your name,
He marks-not that
you won or lost-
But how you played
the game.
Grantland
Rice 1880--1954
May 2003 was an historic
month for all those
who played the game,
those who won and those
who lost. In Canada,
Ireland, and the United
States it was the losers
who won the hearts of
their fans. The winners
will have their names
live in fame, engraved
on trophies, and all
hail to them. They may
wear their laurels with
pride.
Why then mention the
others, those who lost?
It is because they were
glorious in their defeats.
In Canada hockey is all,
ice hockey to those
unfortunates who are
destined never to experience
the fastest game on
earth played at scintillating
speed on ice between
two teams. Its silver
grail is the Stanley
Cup, named after an
English Governor General
who first presented
it for competition in
1892. This year, for
the first time since
1927, the Ottawa Senators,
eleven years since the
team was resurrected
in 1992 after an absence
of 58 years, found itself
in contention, and deservedly
so.
The Senators had finished
the regular season with
the most wins in the
NHL, the National Hockey
League, made up of six
Canadian teams and twenty-four
American teams. Then
the real season began,
the play-offs. The Senators
won the first round,
the second round, and
progressed to the third
round, the semi-final
round, in which they
met an American team,
the New Jersey Devils.
They were down three
games to one in the
seven-game series. One
more loss meant they
were gone. They had
never come this far
before in their eleven
years. There was little
possibility of their
recovering, but recover
they did, winning games
five and six. Could
they win the seventh
game they would face
the Anaheim Mighty Ducks,
another American team,
in the final seven-game
series. "Ducks"?
"Devils"?
This is not fiction.
Even the faithful can
pray for the Devils
to win without committing
a sin.
The citizenry of Ottawa
were united behind the
Senators. Hockey fever
swept the capital. The
local stadium erupted
in pandemonium as the
Senators scored the
first goal in the first
twenty-minute period.
In the second period
the Devils scored twice.
The Senators equalized
in the third and were
skating rings around
their opponents. It
was only a matter of
time before they would
score the winning goal.
Then, with less than
three minutes remaining,
it was the Devils' own
luck to seize on an
unexpected Senators'
defensive mistake and
send the puck into the
net. Game over.
It was a good win, and
a glorious loss. In
defeat they had shown
their true mettle, and
in defeat their fans
applauded them for five
full minutes after the
game ended.
By coincidence, that
same week an Irish team
savoured a hard won
victory and a glorious
loss. This game was
played out, not in their
homeland, but on the
slopes of Mt. Everest
in the far away Himalayas,
a game in which numerous
losers over the years
had lost their lives.
Mistakes on Everest
don't result in five
minutes in a hockey
arena penalty box, but
death and entombment
in ice, sometimes for
years, sometimes for
ever.
Last month was the fiftieth
anniversary of the first
human victory on Everest,
when Sir Edmund Hillary,
a New Zealander, and
Sherpa Tenzing Norgay
of Nepal, reached its
peak, an achievement
that was admired the
world over and meant
everlasting fame in
the records of mountaineering.
It was also the month
that a native of Derry
City attempted to become
the first Irish woman
to scale the world's
highest mountain.
What drives one to attempt
such a hazard? That
question has often been
asked. There is no monetary
reward as there is in
professional sports.
It is an expensive undertaking,
more often than not
requiring sponsors to
spend large amounts
of money. Physical training,
planning, and preparation
may last years. The
actual assault on the
peak may be reduced
to a final three days
when fierce winds may
dash all hope of making
the attempt.
But, and this may be
the only but, when one
has first stood on top
of a mountain, however
insignificant compared
to Everest, there is
a feeling of exhilaration,
of wonderment, of an
unexplainable feeling
that cannot be shared
with those who ask why
do it.
There were four members
in the Irish team, Ger.
McDonnell (32) from
Kilcornan, Co Limerick;
Mick Murphy (43) and
Pat Falvey (45), both
from Cork , and Hannah
Shields (37), a dentist
by profession, from
Derry.
Sadly the team leader,
Pat Falvey, and the
lady from Derry, Hannah
Shields, succumbed to
high altitude sickness
and could not overcome
the harsh winds on the
final leg of the climb
to the top.
Again, all hail to Murphy
and McDonnell. They
played their game and
won. Yes, and all hail
to the other two, Falvey
and Shields. Theirs
was a defeat, but what
a glorious one! To have
come so close, like
the Canadian Senators
hockey team, they merit
applause for their gallant
attempts.
Hannah Shields will always
be remembered in the
annals of Irish mountaineering.
Another successful attempt,
even if by someone else,
will not erase her glory.
The third glorious defeat
came on the same week
as those of the Senators
and Hannah Shields.
This time the venue
was in the United States
when, following in the
path first trod by the
famed American woman
sports legend, Babe
Zaharias, Annika Sorenstam
became the second woman
golfer to compete in
an event on the men's
professional tour.
"She doesn't belong."
"She can't compete."
"I will not play
if paired with her."
Such were the comments
that greeted the news
of her daring to take
part in a men's tournament.
The media were merciless
in their hounding of
Annika in the weeks
leading up to the Bank
of America Colonial
held in Fort Worth,
Texas, and in the week
of the actual tournament
their focus on the young
woman golfer from Sweden
was unrelenting.
Some wondered whether
she would buckle under
the pressure as she
arrived on the first
tee on Thursday, May
22nd.
All their misgivings
were quickly laid to
rest. Her first drive
was straight down the
fairway. A huge, a vast
attendance drawn by
all the pre-tournament
hoopla, applauded.
"Annika, Annika,
rah, rah, rah!"
The chanted at every
hole. When she made
her first birdie the
cheering sounded around
the world. Spectators
and television viewers
alike were thrilled.
At the end of that first
day she had shot one
over par. Her detractors
were silenced.
That her second round
fell short in scoring
was of little consequence.
No golfer could withstand
what she had been subjected
to by media pressure.
Not making the cut on
Friday, May 23rd, the
same day the Ottawa
Senators lost to New
Jersey, was equally
as glorious a loss.
To the Senators, to Hannah,
and to Annika, you made
your city, your country,
and your fans proud.
Your defeats were indeed
glorious. Thank you
for a wonderful week.
It was all in "how
you played the game".
--30--
Postscript: Ice hockey,
the fastest game in
sports, is a variant
of hurling, a game played
in Ireland on a grass
pitch, with a camán,
a hurley stick equivalent
to a hockey stick, and
a sliothar, a ball equivalent
to a hockey puck. When
he reached the summit
of Everest, Irish climber
Ger. McDonnell pulled
a camán and sliothar
from his backpack, and
gave the ball a mighty
whack, reminiscent of
astronaut Alan Shepherd's
golf shot on the surface
off the moon Neither
the golf ball nor the
sliothar have yet been
recovered.
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