The Biggest Loser

[Note to the reader: A narrative is a story, and narratives can take many different forms. In this piece, an 8th grader uses narrative form to explore an important lesson she learned in childhood.]

Growing up, I had a very small house with a sizeable yard. Lucky for us kids, we enjoyed being outside all day long. We were able to amuse ourselves with sports and games, meanwhile keeping out of my mom’s hair. From the moment the sun came up and I finished devouring my breakfast, to the second I was called upon for dinner, I would challenge my siblings in a variety of games. Brooke, only two years older than me, was a close competitor, but ultimately had more skills than me. Griffin, my brother four years older, was like a species of his own. He would taunt us, running slower or showing the ball in front of us. Then, as soon as we would go for it…woosh! He would take off and win the game.

All day we would play soccer, basketball, capture the flag and more fun games. I would always come out on the bottom of the pack. Occasionally, I would go crying into my room because “Griffin wasn’t being fair.” or “Brooke made me fall.” I would lay in my bed with my teary eyes and frowny face shoved into my pillow and I would think of all the reasons why the games weren’t fair. Eventually I would get bored sulking in my bedroom and would mope back outside to play again. Annoyed, my siblings would hold their tongues and let me rejoin.
One roasting hot summer day, my siblings and I decided not to let the heat stop us from having fun. We dusted off the sprinkler and continued our games, only stopping for an occasional leap through the cool water. We decided to play soccer, Griffin’s personal favorite game. Like usual, Griffin cruised through Brooke and me, scoring more goals than we could count. Again. Again and again. Every goal discouraged me more. The mixture of emotions from the scorching heat and my aggravating losing streak caused me to act up and go crying to my room. While whimpering upstairs, I quickly realized that no one cared that I wasn’t playing. No one was upset that I was pouting… except for me.

I decided to wipe my tears away and go back outside. I sluggishly walked back outside and returned to the front yard where Brooke and Griffin were kicking the soccer ball back and forth. I approached them to a close enough distance for them to know I was ready to receive the ball. After 5 times of them passing to each other and ignoring me, I assured myself that if I were to steal the ball, they would have to start playing again. As the ball left Brooke’s foot and progressed towards Griffin, I lunged forward and picked off the ball. Sprinting a couple of yards forward, I only heard silence behind me. Neither of my siblings were falling for my plan. Instead they held their feet to the ground like glue and gave me a dirty look. Then after all of the times I ran away, pouted and complained, Brooke and Griffin discarded all of their emotions. “Are you going to be a baby like always?” Brooke roared. Then Griffin chimed in, “Do you think you can always just come back and act like you weren’t a brat?” As they howled and made fun of me, I started to form a rock in the back of my throat. I just wanted to run away, but I knew they would make fun of me more. Instead I kicked the soccer ball between my feet and pretended to ignore them. As the day went on they let me play again.
From then on, when I wanted to run away and cry, I would stay and hold my ground. I learned that it was okay to lose games, even when the scores aren’t even comparable. The most important thing when playing is not to win (though it does feel nice sometimes). The most important thing is to have fun and be a good sport. Now, no matter what the competition is, I know that I need to have good sportsmanship and keep my cool. Because I was the biggest loser as a kid, I learned to play with fairness, now I am the biggest winner… Even when I lose. - by Vivianne J (submitted by Mrs. Reagles)