Sometimes When You Lose, You Win

Every Olympics has great stories—usually too many to keep track of—but for me, the greatest story of this year’s games didn’t happen this year and was only part of the Olympic coverage because of (of all things) a credit card commercial. It’s the story, not of a champion or a medalist, but of a dead last, disqualified loser.

The story goes like this . . .

At the 1992 Barcelona Olympics, British runner, Derek Redmond, was forced to stop in the middle of his run of the 400 meter event due to a snapped hamstring. Trying to finish despite the horribly painful injury, Derek quickly discovered he was unable.

When he fell to the ground in pain, stretcher-carrying medics made their way to him, but determined to finish, Derek got back up and began to hobble in an attempt to at least cross the finish line. However, it was obvious there was no way he could finish the race.

Then, out of nowhere, an older man jogs up beside Derek, hoisting his arm over his shoulder and helping the agonizing athlete. The man’s name was Jim. Jim Redmond, Derek’s father, and he had broken through security and onto the track to help his son.

Derek Redmond didn’t finish first or second or third—or at all, according to the official Olympic books—but he and his father crossed the finish line and completed the race.

Sometimes when you lose, you win.

By not winning, by not even officially finishing, Derek Redmond and his father, Jim, have inspired millions, have touched me so deeply, so profoundly, I can’t think of the story, can’t see the images, the pain on Derek’s face, the strength and resolution on his father’s, without tears coming to my eyes.

Sometimes, to find our lives we must be willing to lose them. To live, we must die. To win, we must lose.

When the mighty Roman Empire executed Jesus, it looked as if all was lost. But long after Rome burned to the ground, the message of love preached by the Jewish peasant is still proclaimed and occasionally lived out around the globe today.

Sometimes when you lose, you win.

When a bullet of ignorance and hate pierced the precious body of Martin Luther King, it looked as if the movement was over, but the movement wasn’t a man, and that seemingly defeated man’s dream still haunts the dreams of a nation, his call to “Let freedom ring” still rings round the world.

Sometimes when you lose, you win.

When anti-apartheid activist Nelson Mandela was imprisoned in South Africa, it seemed as if racism and injustice would have the final word, but after 27 years of prison, he was paroled on my birthday in 1990 to become president of the same country that had imprisoned him, to eventually win the Nobel Peace Prize in 1993, and to continue to inspire true freedom fighters everywhere to this day.

Sometimes when you lose, you win.

Both King and Mandela credit Gandhi for having a huge influence on their non-violent struggle against oppression, injustice, and racism—something he did long after an evil, fearful, cowardly assassin took this peaceful, righteous man’s life while he was out on his evening walk.

Sometimes when you lose, you win.

It’s not if we lose . . . Each of us will lose. What is life but a series of losses? Ultimately, we lose everything. It’s how we lose that defines us. Competition, like the challenges of life, reveals our true character—who we really are, not who we pretend to be. In the game of life it’s far better to be a loser with character, with depth and substance, than a shallow, unscarred winner—which, of course, is not a winner at all.

Sometimes when you win, you lose.

By losing with such dignity, such character, Derek Redmond became a winner. By helping him so nobly and gracefully, Jim Redmond became an even bigger one. When the world was watching, they performed to perfection in a most magnificent defeat. Derek and Jim are heroes. Each man, the kind of father, son, and loser I’m trying to be.