This post was originally written on October 11, 2013, back before arthritis in the hip wasn’t a thing. Ahh, the good ol’ days. Although, in all honesty, I’m way more chill about competition now.I have always been more of a love to win vs hate to lose player. But mostly I was a love to hang out with my friends and eat dinner afterwards kinda gal.
If you’d like to read the original post, you can do so here.
One of the differences between tennis and pickleball is that in tennis you get to be all matchy-matchy. Some women in pickleball wear cute outfits, but they don’t feel the need to match from head to toe and buy multiple pairs of shoes. In tennis, even the professional men on tour like Alcaraz and Sinner match, right down to their socks and shoes.
One of my neurospicy characteristics is my OCD, so I always made everything match down to my underwear, even before I started playing tennis competitively in my early 30’s. I am a little less stringent about matching now, since I work from home and all people can see is the very top of my blouse. And I hate folding clothes so they’re just piled in a huge jumble on my guest bed. And I don’t want to spend time sorting through the pile to make sure I can find a pair of underwear that’s going to match my bra and go with my outfit.
But now that I’ve started playing tennis again, my desire to match everything has come back with a vengeance. Last Monday, I decided to wear everything in 2 shades of purple for pickleball–dark purple (my favorite) and a lighter, lavender color. I debated on whether I wanted to go so far as to get my matching purple jacket and my matching purple gloves. Would people think this is too much? A bit over the top?
Ever since I have embraced my neurodivergence, I have changed. Before, I was training to be normal, like Neo being trained by Morpheus in The Matrix, since he was reborn into the real world. I didn’t trust myself. Do I really have power? Can I really be myself? Am I really all that? Neo asks himself this question over and over again, seeking reassurance from Trinity, the Oracle, and Morpheus. The Oracle tells Neo that he’s not ready. That he’s waiting for something. Morpheus says that he needs to believe. He can only show him the path, but Neo has to walk it.
In the end, there are 2 things that help Neo realize that he’s the One. First, he believes that he can save Morpheus and risks his life doing so. Second, Trinity tells him that the Oracle told her that she would fall in love with the One, and she loves Neo, so he can’t be dead. He needs to get back up and fight. So he does. And then, suddenly, he can read the code, and he destroys the Agents effortlessly.
If you haven’t watched the Matrix, I’m sorry I spoiled it for you. But in my defense, it came out in 1999. And if you haven’t watched it yet, what are you waiting for?! This is one of the greatest movies of all time! They just made two references to it in the musical The Book of Mormons, which my family and I watched yesterday. That’s how relevant it is!
But I digress.
Now that I understand what neurodivergence means, which is that some people’s brains are wired differently, I know what my superpower is. I can feel people’s neurodivergence. I have to think about their particular skills, recalling pervious sessions with them, including details they mentioned but we never focused on. The recognition of their neurodivergence, however, is instantaneous.
When I explain to people what their superpowers are, they begin to thrive almost immediately, knowing deep down that what I’ve seen is true. Just like Morpheus knew that Neo was the One.
By the time we have our next session, they have already come up with new ways to self-soothe when they become distressed. This is the biggest problem that neurospicy people have–the neurotypical world traumatizes them on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis. But once you know how to self-regulate, you no longer have to be depressed, anxious, or have a meltdown for extended periods of time. You can do whatever you need to do to self-regulate.
And then you can thrive. Because they know themselves better than I do, once they’ve been shown how to read the code, they fly. Just like Neo. And they, too, become the Ones.
What does all this have to do with me dressing up in 2 shades of purple from head to toe, including my underwear, socks, and outerwear, you ask? Well, I no longer care what other people think of me. I’m going to do whatever makes me happy. And if you think this picture of me is too matchy-matchy, too bad. Because from now on, this is how I roll.
And this is what my bed of clothes looks like. And I still have one more load to do. Which I just put in the washing machine.
A few weeks ago I wrote a post on what it means to be an athlete vs. being athletic. I had decided to ask other people to weigh in, and I’m glad I did because their feedback gave me a lot of food for thought. They also helped me to feel more like an athletic athlete, rather than an unathletic athlete, even though I’m 12 years older, had hip replacement surgery, and am having to learn how to play tennis all over again.
For me, the next obvious question is, what is it that good coaches do to make these less athletic people so useful? I’ve always been fascinated with the question of what makes a good coach, and in particular, whether a good coach needs to yell in order to be effective. So I asked people again for their feedback, and I thought I would share you what hard core sports fans, coaches, and loyal readers had to say.
Luckily, one coach answered the yelling question directly for me. She said she rarely yelled because she never responded well to yelling when she was a player. I don’t respond well to yelling, either, because of my family history. But maybe some people prefer to be yelled at? Please feel free to to weigh in if you do and help me to understand.
One characteristic that several people agreed upon is that a coach needs to be a good teacher and leader. This includes being inspirational, being knowledgeable about the subject matter, whether or not they were at the top of their sport as an athlete.
Richard Williams, the father of Serena and Venus, knew nothing about tennis or coaching and somehow blazed a trail for two of the greatest female tennis players in the most unconventional way possible. Check out the movie if you don’t know the story. Will Smith got an Oscar for portraying him. But then he punched Chris Rock at the Oscars and that became the focus, unfortunately.
But I digress.
A good coach’s lessons go beyond the techniques and strategies of the game and can be translated into lessons that prepare the athletes for life and are based on core values. In the last blog post I mentioned Tony Bennett’s 5 pillars: humility, passion, unity, servanthood, and thankfulness. This year, UVA’s football coach Tony Elliot is now undefeated in the ACC, the Cinderella story of the college football season so far. His core values are character, humility, work ethic, skill set, and passion for education. Fairly similar core values, don’t you think?
Others identified attunement to their players as an important characteristic. Good coaches are good listeners. They have empathy for their players. They know their players well enough to maximize their talents, keep them motivated, and have the foresight to help these individual players perform better as a team so that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.
A couple of people suggested that coaches focus less on wins and more on developing players into citizens who will have the skills to navigate the ups and downs of life and thrive.
I find this interesting in that coaches and commentators are always saying how coaches are so perfectionistic–coaching to the very end, even if they’re up by 30 points. Paying attention to the things their players still didn’t execute well. But I guess this is an example of being less focused on the win. A sloppy win is not as valuable to a coach as execution, focus, discipline, and following directions.
I agree with all of these attributes about team coaches. As many of you know, I believe Tony Bennett is the best coach I’ve ever seen. Any commentator who mentions him talks about how he is as good of a human being as he is a coach. His character is never separated from his job.
Josh Heupel was also mentioned as a good coach. If you don’t know about the Tennessee Volunteers, I will tell you that they totally buy into the college team mentality and value their college sports over their professional teams. They are not about making college sports into a business and were upset when their star quarterback last year sold out to a lesser school for the money.
Pat Summit, the renowned female basketball coach who led the Lady Vols to eight national championships is still highly regarded here, long before people took an interest in women’s college basketball. Her record is second only to John Wooden, who has 10 national championship titles. So Tennessee fans value coaches who care deeply about their school, their teams, and their players.
I’ve had the unique opportunity to have 2 female coaches: one in voice and one in tennis. All of my previous voice teachers were male, and very few of my tennis pros were female. With my voice coach, she is so attuned to my body and the quality of my voice that she asks me to make these subtle changes in how I vocalize, like she’s diagnosing the problem. She has even gone so far as to research breathing disorders to figure out why I don’t exhale when I’m singing.
Much of our work has been similar to my work in mindfulness and working with clients who have experienced trauma, as I mentioned in a previous blog post. She is also able to use my strengths to help me get better at the technical areas that need improvement. For example, if I focus on opening my mouth or sticking out my tongue to get a better quality sound, when I apply the techniques to a song I sound worse than usual. I can’t access feelings about the song and how it feels in my body and focus on techniques at the same time. So yesterday she suggested that I pretend I’m singing a song and walk around while I sang the scales. And it totally worked!
My tennis coach is very good at giving me one thing to focus on that ends up solving 3 things that I’m doing wrong. I’ve always had a problem with hitting my forehand too early. While many instructors, and my ex-husband, have pointed it out, no one has told me how to stop doing it. Once I tried using the timing of the sound of the ball bouncing and when my ex hit the ball. And guess what? She told me the timing should be bounce-hit. Maybe I just think that’s brilliant because I thought of it myself, but she is the only one who gave me something specific to focus on other than just saying don’t swing too early.
My tennis coach acknowledged that sometimes people just look at what the stroke looks like and not the idiosyncrasies of what the person may be doing. Shortly after saying that, the boy who was receiving a lesson next to us was grunting, and she asked him why he was grunting. His instructor then asked him if he was, in fact, grunting, and the boy admitted that he was. The instructor then asked him why and the boy said he didn’t know. And then he resumed the lesson without addressing the grunting.
Which I thought it was hilarious.
So even in individual coaching, the same principles apply. Coaches are highly attuned, good listeners, pay attention to details, are flexible and willing to try different strategies. I’m not anywhere close to winning anything in tennis at the moment. And I don’t even know what that would mean to win in singing. But I know that I am learning a lot more than just how to sing and play tennis again.
In my last post, I mentioned in passing that I considered myself an unathletic athlete. But the truth is, this hip recovery journey has helped me re-evaluate my unathletic status.
Just for kicks, I thought I’d ask my readers what they thought made someone athletic. The most common response was “you are definitely an athlete!” So thanks for that, for those of you who submitted that comment.
As far as being an athlete goes, some said that just engaging in physical activity or being on a sports team is sufficient. But you could still not be very good. Therefore, it is possible to be an unathletic athlete.
So what makes someone athletic?
Athletic skills were broken down into 2 categories: 1) physical qualities like being fast, fit, having hand-eye coordination, strength, agility, and balance; and 2) mental qualities like being fearless, competitive, and having excellent concentration.
Only 2 people made a distinction between being an athlete and being athletic, and their comments were the most thought-provoking.
One person said that an athlete is someone who contributes positively to their team, even if they compete individually. Being athletic, on the other hand, is someone who possesses qualities like the ones listed above. As a coach, she said that now she sees so many more ways that less athletic players can contribute to a team than she used to.
For me, this calls to mind Tony Bennett, UVA’s former head coach. He purposely picked less athletic players who were willing to earn their spot, work hard, and bought into his team philosophy. Even in his hey day no one thought he could ever win a national championship without great athletes. But he did.
Another person said that being athletic meant having the drive to challenge yourself to get better, a willingness to learn and to be coached, and a willingness to be a team player.
According to him, Jamie Tartt, who is seemingly the most athletic member of the fictional AFC Richmond soccer team on the show Ted Lasso, is not athletic because of his ego, his individualistic attitude, his lack of humility, and his unwillingness to be a team player. Although he learns how to be athletic. So it’s not just innate talent.
This definition also calls to mind Tony Bennett’s 5 pillars: 1) humility, 2) passion, 3) unity, 4) servanthood, and 5) thankfulness.
Consistent with those definitions, Carlos Alcaraz is known for his speed and shot arsenal, but also plays with tremendous joy. He even celebrates when his opponent hits a great shot. And that’s part of what makes him great.
Coco Gauff worked on her new serve with her new coach during the US Open—arguably the most important tournament for any American player. She could have played it safe and waited until the off season. Instead, she double-faulted her way through the tournament, sometimes through tears. And won a lot of matches, nonetheless.
I have to say, after this little experiment I feel way more athletic than I did before! And I was already feeling pretty athletic to begin with, because it turns out that having arthritis at such a young age is a result of being athletic.
My rate of recovery was also in the top 5% because I did the pre and post-op exercises they recommended. I always take pride in being a good student.
After 6 weeks post-surgery, I was already playing pickleball decently. And even though I air-balled 95% of the balls when I tried to hit on the ball machine 3 weeks ago, last weekend I was able to hit the majority of the balls with placement. And my serve was pretty good. So I must have some physical skills.
In terms of mental fortitude, I have always called upon my inner warrior in a losing battle, my inner Buddha when I’m feeling anxious, my inner Federer when I’m playing spastically, and my inner Nadal when I need relentless positivity.
As a team member, I try to get the best performance out of my partner. In fact, if they play well and I don’t, I still consider it a win. And if we go into a tiebreaker, I consider that a win. But some of my friends think that’s delusional. Although they secretly do it, too.
The research for this post was so interesting that you can expect another chance to participate soon!
It’s June and a lot has happened since my last post. Inquiring minds want to know.
First, after another semester in COVID, surgery #1, and obsessing about all of the things I have to do for the move, I am finally feeling better! While I was going through all this, I knew it was bad. But I guess you can’t fully realize all of the things you had to do to survive while you are in the process of surviving. It’s only when you look back that you realize you’re stronger than you think.
The other thing about depression is that when you’re in it you think, was there a time I wasn’t depressed? My boyfriend was always trying to get me to go outside to get sunlight, but I was too tired. But then I began to doubt myself. Did I like sunlight at some point? Maybe I’m just making excuses. But I vaguely remember playing tennis. And watching my team play tennis. And I remember thinking it was fun.
But then when you’re not depressed you think, did I really just crash on the couch after work every day in a comatose state? Did I really have that little energy? Wow. Thank goodness that’s over with.
The other update is that last week was my last week of work. 19 years. That’s longer than any relationship I’ve had. But I always knew I’d be better at work than marriage. I still have to pack my office and transfer files, but I’ve said my good-byes to clients and colleagues. We had a nice get-together during a work retreat last week. That was the first time I had seen most of my colleagues in over a year. In a way, I’m glad I’m leaving during Covid. I wouldn’t have wanted a bunch of people coming up to me saying good-bye. I may seem sociable, but I’m really not.
My next update is that I am able to do a lot more stuff now. Like
As I laced my last
rollerblade I remembered
I’m too old to fall.
I didn’t fall. But hopefully I won’t try to do it again.
Most of the time these things were done without coughing, and I’ve only thrown up a couple of times. I’m getting a little less rusty and out of shape, but I’m still getting old. My body can’t do what it used to do. And there’s nothing that can fix that. So, I’m trying to focus on being grateful that I can be active at all. And I’m putting that self-care commitment I made in my last post into action. I spend a lot of time resting, icing, stretching, massaging, and doing yoga. All things I didn’t do before because I thought they were a waste of time. Hence the neglect of my body.
Which brings me to my next update. I had to take a bunch of tests to see if I needed surgery for my GERD, and one of them was a pH test. You have to get this tube inserted through your nose and down your esophagus and wear this big monitor where you had to indicate if you were eating, sleeping, or taking a pill. For 24 hours. But I still went outside for a walk, as indicated in the Rocky-like picture below.
The cutoff score for high acidity was 14, and I had a score of 80! My surgeon said it’s the highest score she’s ever seen! So I’ve been bragging that I have the worst GERD ever. I know I said I wasn’t going to be competitive about health stuff anymore but that one is just too good.
Plus it makes me feel vindicated. When I was watching my team play a few months ago, I noticed how quiet it was. No one was coughing. Why am I the only one? I was worried that when I moved to Knoxville no one would play with me because they’d probably think I had Covid. But now that I’m having surgery, maybe things can get even better. Maybe I’ll be cough-free by the time I meet people to play with. Maybe they’ll want to be my friend.
Thanks to all of you who prayed for me last time. If you think of me on June 18, feel free to send some healing vibes my way. This time I’ll have to spend the night for observation, which makes me a little nervous. I haven’t stayed overnight in the hospital since I was 5.
This brings me to my final update. I haven’t moved yet. In retrospect, I should have said in that initial post that I am moving months from now. Probably in August. Ever since I wrote that, people keep coming up to me saying, what are you doing here? I thought you moved. I don’t think they’re disappointed or anything, but I just want the rest of you to know, in case you see me in the near future.
This weekend my tennis team made it to the semifinals in the state tournament. This is not an easy feat. It is only the 3rd time I’ve experienced it in my 15 years of playing in leagues. A few years ago I wrote about What Winners Do after districts that focused on positive self-talk and mindfulness. This run at Regionals reminded me of some other things that winners do.
Thankfully, we had a team captain who embodied all of these characteristics, which helped us advance in the tournament.
I’ve written several blog posts about being obsessive (Obsessiveness, If There were a Prize For Most Likely to Obsess Over Nothing I Would Totally Win, Perception is Reality), and I haven’t written one in a while, so I thought I’d give you an update on whether I’m cured.
The answer is…no. I’m not cured. My brain has a mind of its own, and it really likes to think about the same things. Over and over. All the time.
Yesterday I was particularly obsessive for some reason. I repeated some items that I needed to write down on my grocery list over and over while I was trying to take a nap because I didn’t want to forget them. Which was really conducive to sleep, as you can imagine. Getting up and writing down the items would have been the obvious solution, but for some reason obsessing seemed like the easier choice.
And then there are those important decisions about the future that plague me like, what am I going to eat for lunch 3 days from now? Should I wear jeans on Friday? Should I weigh myself, since the results will probably be depressing? How can I stop from weighing myself, given that I’m obsessive? Should I risk eating chocolate today? Or am I willing to throw up over it?
The good news is, there are things that help me to obsess less. Medication helps. The other day I was remembering how often people use to tell me that they heard wonderful things about meds and I should really try them. I realize now that I was annoying the hell out of them and they wanted me to do something about it. And I have to admit, sometimes I annoy myself. But I am much less annoying than I used to be. So that’s something.
Practicing mindfulness and self-compassion helps. When I am in the midst of an obsessive episode, logic and reasoning are a waste of time. Telling myself to stop doesn’t do much, either. So I tell myself that I’m just obsessing. This is what the mind does. It’s not my fault. I’m doing the best that I can. It’s painful, but at some point it will subside. And then I try to be nice to myself until it does, no matter how long that takes.
Tennis helps. Regardless of whether I win or lose, I feel better afterwards. My mindset shifts, and the things I obsessed about all day become a distant, irrational memory. I had a meditation instructor tell me that I like tennis because it’s a way of practicing mindfulness, so maybe tennis is the most effective way of practicing mindfulness for me.
Blogging helps. The act of writing down all of the things I’m thinking about is therapeutic. It’s a way of listening to myself rather than trying to cut myself off, telling myself I don’t want to hear it. And sometimes people read these posts and like them. Sometimes they even comment on them. So that’s more people who are listening, which makes me feel really good.
So if you have an obsessive loved one, listening is truly one of the most healing gifts you can give. They’ll be much happier with you than if you give them advice or tell them they’re annoying you and they should just stop talking. You don’t even need professional training to do it well. It may not cure the problem, and it is a strategy that is always at your disposal if you remember to use it.
And then you can refer them to this blog post and they will feel much less crazy.
I have a running joke with one of my tennis partners where we make up all these statements about what winners do. It started when we played our first match of the season and we were on the verge of elimination. I told her that winners hold their serve and break serve when it counts. Which we did. And we won. But then we just started making up stuff that wasn’t particularly profound because it was funny and it helped us relax on the court. Winners win! Winners wear tennis shoes instead of sandals when they play!
I actually think a lot about what winners do. Often people think that they need to improve their skills to win–develop a topspin forehand, for example. The problem with this strategy is that it takes a long time to improve a skill, and working on a weakness will still not make it one of your strengths. I’ve been working on a topspin forehand for 15 years now, but it’s still not my go-to shot when the game is on the line.
It’s actually much better to focus on your mental game, and it doesn’t take years to get better at it. I don’t consider myself to be naturally gifted as an athlete, but I am a psychologist, so I make sure I capitalize on whatever mental strategy that allows me to have the advantage in a match. I am aware of when people are using head games and don’t let them get to me. I compliment my opponents to make them feel guilty about using head games. I frame my goals in terms of what I want to do instead of what I don’t want to do (e.g., reach up and follow through rather than don’t double fault). I give my partner positive feedback, pump them up by reminding them what winners do.
I’ve been noticing lately that a lot of what winners do involves practicing mindfulness. Federer and Nadal, arguably the two greatest tennis players in the men’s game, illustrate this perfectly. Federer is known for how long he can keep his eye on the ball. How easily he shrugs off losses, puts things in perspective. He savors his victories because he is in his twilight years. Nadal often says that he knows that any win could be his last, so he doesn’t take playing for granted. He attributes his success to what he can control–his effort, his practice. All players talk about how they try to focus on this match rather than looking too far ahead. They give themselves time to enjoy their victory. They express gratitude for the people who put on the tournament, their team, their fans when they make their speech in the finals.
Sure, some of this stuff is probably scripted–things they know they should say, whether they mean it or not. But I believe that winners do mean it. They are focused. They take things one game at a time. They don’t fixate on mistakes. They are grateful. They savor the moment.
I know practicing mindfulness has made me a better player, if for no other reason than it helps me to watch the ball–which is often my only strategy when I’m playing. Practicing mindfulness doesn’t guarantee a win, but it makes every aspect of the game, on and off the court, more enjoyable. Which counts as a win in my book.
It’s been a year since my brother got out of the hospital and I invited him to live with me. The past week has been a series of anniversaries of traumatic events, and in that series, today was the worst day.
A year later, I am having a stellar beginning to my academic year. Further proof of the benefits of practicing mindfulness–the reminder that all things pass, and ultimately you will be OK. I have also learned how to look for happiness when it seems as though there’s nothing to be happy about, and how to savor it when I experience it.
This year began with my tennis team advancing to sectionals. If you don’t know anything about league tennis, this is a big deal. It’s sort of like advancing to the Elite Eight in the NCAA Basketball Tournament. And if you don’t watch basketball, then just think of it as a once in a lifetime experience.
One of the lessons on happiness that I often write about is that you never know how you will feel about something until you get there. I had always imagined that advancing to sectionals would be a joyful thing. And it was joyful, but it was many other things, too. That seems to be the general rule–we never feel just one thing. Instead, we feel multiple, often contradictory things. I was happy we won but it didn’t make me a happier person in general. I still worried about the same things, had the same insecurities. Winning didn’t make me less neurotic, and it didn’t change my life for the better. It was a reminder that, because all things pass, happiness is also fleeting.
During the weekend of the tournament I had the opportunity to get to know two players who I had never spoken to before beyond saying hello. Although they barely knew me, when I needed a place to stay, they invited me to stay in their room on the spot–which helped tremendously with my obsessing about money. Many of my friends helped in whatever way they could–negotiated a lower rate for my room, shared their food with me. It was a reminder that making meaningful connections with other people is the thing that brings me the greatest happiness. It’s why I have the job that I do. Why I captain so many teams. Why I want everyone go out to dinner after our matches.
In a few weeks, we will be off to sectionals, and I am excited about the chance to advance to nationals. I will enjoy the challenge. I will channel my inner warrior. I will go all out to win. But win, lose, or draw, I know that the time off court with friends old and new will give me plenty to be happy about. And after the thrill of victory or the agony of defeat fades, the friendships will still remain.
As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I am a captain who is known for trying to be encouraging and positive, even if our team isn’t that good. Sometimes I make stuff up on the spot to say to my partner to get them to laugh, be relaxed, and fight for the win–even if I think we’re going to lose.
I admit that thinking that we’re going to lose runs counter to the argument that I am inherently an optimistic person, but since I’m at war with myself most of the time, it just makes me want to prove that negative part of myself wrong and win, gosh darn it! So take that, Inner Critic! You don’t know me! I will beat you and your negative thinking!
But I digress. Back to the stuff I make up on the court to encourage my partner. I had a partner last year who kept getting distracted in the match because the pace was really slow. So I told her that she only had to concentrate for 15 seconds at a time, because that’s about how long a doubles point is. Or if my partner has to hold serve to stay in the match but she hasn’t held serve yet, I’ll say, that’s OK. That’s what winners do. They hold serve when it counts. Or I’ll tell my partner that we are capable of getting every ball back. They will not be able to hit a winner against us. I mean, they’re not that good. Or if we’re down 1-6, 0-5, I’ll tell them that I’ve come back from a match being that far behind before. Which is true.
I really believe these things, by the way. I say them to myself all the time. And they do often help me get the win. And even when they don’t, they help me fight until the end and make my opponents work harder than they expected to for their victory. So if I can’t win, I can at least make my opponents suffer, which is a victory in itself.
My latest strategy to keep morale up in the face of defeat is a more extreme form of what I’ll call alternative scoring. Kind of like alternative facts, but without the political controversy. I have always counted tiebreak losses as wins, but I’ve taken this definition of winning a step further. In my summary of the match, I will give the real score (we lost 2-3) and the alternative score (but since I count tiebreak losses as wins, we actually won 5-0). I will point out all of the players who have an “undefeated streak”, which may be defined as 6 straight tiebreak losses. And at the end of the season, I will point out that, rather than coming in last place with an an overall record of 3-6, we actually won 7-2 unofficially and should be going to districts, if USTA were keeping score by my rules.
And the funny thing is, sometimes it works. Last year I had a team advance to districts even though we came in 3rd place, just because we had enough people to go. Just because I tell players to make sure that they are available the weekend of districts. Because you never know….
Actually, I don’t think my positive attitude made that happen, but it was fun to go with the goal of making our opponents lose to a team that came in last place. Because of the whole causing suffering thing as a victory in itself. Which is perhaps a little bit uncompassionate (non-compassionate?), but still positive and encouraging. I think.
1000 Voices for Compassion
