By
Norman Freeman

Coming to terms with defeat isn’t easy. Nobody wants to contemplate being beaten. No manager, no mentor, no mental expert wants to mention the dreaded word ‘defeat.’ It’s totally barred from every team discussion, from every heated exhortation from the manager.

‘We have to have a winning mentality, a winning attitude, a will to win,’ shouts the manager, banging a hurley against the wall

Yet the reality is that everyone has to learn to cope with losing. After all, only one team can win the game. There has to be a loser. And no team can win all the time - unless it’s Kilkenny.

Not being able to handle losing has led fellows to go on the beer for weeks afterwards. Hurling lore has stories of some players so full of rage and disappointment that they got into rows in pubs and take-aways at 2 a.m. and ended up being locked in the cell in the Garda barracks.

Others went home, faces sour with disappointment, and were surly to the wife or partner or girl-friend. One well-known hurler became infamous for kicking the innocent cat when it tried to rub itself against his legs.

Now a clever sports psychologist from Muckalee in County Kilkenny has come up with an imaginative solution. This girl, who has a degree from Trinity College, Dublin has compiled a special video that she has called ‘Putting defeat into Perspective.’ There is a sub-title – ‘Now that’s what you call defeat.’

Old newsreel footage from the world’s troubled past is used to illustrate her point. Then there is an item from the over-hyped world of English soccer. And there is that notorious clip of the beautiful, statuesque Russian girl who went beserk after losing in the semi-final of a major tennis championship recently.

The video got its first outing after an important club championship game. It was shown with the approval of the manager and mentors. The team had been training rigorously during the winter and spring. A lot of sacrifices had to be made.

However, they were cruelly beaten by a single point in a neck-and-neck race. A bad bounce of the ball allowed the sliotar to bobble over the white line of their goal in injury time.

They came back into the dressing room to slump onto the benches disconsolately. Some stared silently at the floor. Others just shook their heads. Some sat with their heads in their hands.

Almost unnoticed by them in their stunned sadness a screen was wheeled in the door and rolled down against the far wall. A small stand was unfolded and the video equipment set up on its stand. Then this personable girl came forward and addressed the players.

‘Listen lads – I know well that nothing will console ye about losing today. However, it’s never any harm to put defeat into some kind of perspective. That’s what this is all about.’

This is a stunning, disturbing video. Surges of sad music, many violins sawing away mournfully. The solemn male voice-over intones ‘These are the defeated.’

Singapore 1942. Old black and white film. The camera pans slowly across the thousands of captive British troops sitting in misery behind barbed wire under the blazing tropical sun.

‘They have been beaten by the Japanese, whom they once laughed at as small fellows with bad sight who rode bicycles to war. Now they are at the mercy of a heartless enemy. Many of these defeated will die of starvation, disease and cruel treatment.’

A stark change of scenery. A white frozen plain in wintertime Russia. A long line of men hobbles through the snow, driven along roughly by armed guards. These are the walking wounded, the remnants of the once-invincible German armies that had been relentlessly beaten into submission after they had failed to take Stalingrad in World War Two. The strain of defeat and battle contorts their faces, many bruised and bandaged. Some stumble along on makeshift crutches.

The voice-over on the video intones, ‘These are the defeated. Most will never see their homes again. They will die in captivity, overworked and underfed.’

Now the video changes to full colour. It shows a dramatic scene from the world of English soccer. It’s at the sudden death stage of a penalty shoot-out in a big game. The next penalty will decide the outcome. An extremely well-paid player, an English fellow who loves reading comics, comes up, takes a careful run – and misses.

He falls to the ground, overcome with grief. He opens his mouth wide and begins to cry convulsively. The physio and the assistant manager arrive. The trauma seems to have deprived him of the use of his legs; he has to be carried into the dressing room, all the time crying uncontrollably. ‘He’s a millionaire but even millionaires can have bad days,’ explains the voice-over.

Finally comes the clip of the gorgeous Russian tennis player. This was a shameless piece of voyeurism, taken from a miniscule, remotely-controlled camera cunningly placed at waist level in a corner of the dressing room. The culprit was a depraved fellow who posted it on a sporting website where it caused great embarrassment to this beautiful girl.




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She comes storming in after losing a match she should have won. She smashes her expensive racket off the wall. All the time yelling in what Russian speakers describe as the most obscene and blasphemous language, she pulls off her tennis-shoes and pelts them across the room. When she rips off her hair-band her wavy blond tresses fall around her enraged face. Now she wrenches off her top and skirt and flings them away. Finally this ravishing girl unhooks her bra, takes it off and completes the job by pulling down and then stepping out of her panties.

At that moment the bony, moustached face of her coach peers in the door. In a paroxysm of rage she wraps her panties round her right fist to protect it and also to act like a filmy knuckleduster. With the other hand she grabs this small fellow by the hair of his head and hauls him about the room, slamming punches into his face. Wham, bam, got you Sam.

In the end he struggles free, hauls off and lands an uppercut to the point of this Amazon’s chin. She staggers back and falls on the flat of her back, spread-eagled like a starfish stranded by the outgoing tide.

As the scene fades voice-over said solemnly. ‘We always have to try to take defeat with some grace and style.’ The video ended with gentle, wistful music.

There was a dumbfounded silence in the dressing room. Some mouths were agape. Then the captain spoke up. ‘Look, we’re still gutted. It will take us a lot of time to get over losing today. But at least we’re not going into captivity like those poor fellows we just saw. And we’ve kept our dignity as best we can, not like that guy who was bawling and roaring like Staunton’s pig.’

Then he bowed his head and swivelled his eyes with a faint, knowing smile. ‘As for that Russian girl – I know some lads here would love to get the chance to console her.’ He paused and added meaningfully, ‘In whatever way they could.’

The players responded with a handclap and thanked the girl from Muckalee.

Meanwhile, she is using the video as part of a lecture on how to cope with defeat. She will offer the talk to clubs and counties round the country. In addition, she is now working on a video to give solace to goalkeepers or backs who disastrously let the sliotar slip in front of goal, free-takers who missed match-winning attempts and those who fluffed shots at goals or points when it was easier to score.

The Squinting Eye will report her progress.