COMPETITION VS. COMPASSION

One of the things that I enjoy most is competition, whether it is a card game, a round of golf or even a challenge to see who can eat the most crackers in a minute.

I suppose that I’m in a competition with cancer just now but there isn’t much fun in fighting a silent and despicable opponent. I enjoy the real life kind of opponent, the kind who pushes you to the limit or says, “let’s have another game”.

My favourite opponent is one who is just a bit better at the game than me, one who can teach me how to improve without making me feel foolish. I can think of many people who fit that profile but none better than Serge De Miglio, a former colleague at Brebeuf College.

Serge is a perpetual optimist, the kind of person who always has a joke or funny story to tell. I suppose being a glass half full kind of guy is a requirement for any fan of the hapless Toronto Argonauts.

A good athlete for his advancing years, Serge still plays tennis and volleyball on a regular basis. However, the sport that brought Serge and me together was table tennis, especially during the time when Brebeuf was relocated to Bathurst Heights during the reconstruction of the original school from 2002 to 2004.

We would often play on Friday nights after school until Serge needed a shower or I got tired of losing. The best out of 5 often would stretch to best out of 7, then 9, then 15. We once played at dinner time on parent teacher interview day. Needless to say, I wish I had brought a spare shirt for the evening session.

My friendly games against Serge were seldom one-sided like the one I played against a pleasant chap, Sam, at a coaches’ table tennis get-together several years ago. I had not met Sam before the match and was surprised that he had a sidekick who seemed overly solicitous about his well-being.

As our game began, I discovered that Sam had trouble moving to his right. I exploited this weakness with deft shots that soon saw the score go to 9-1 in my favour. As my opponent’s assistant chased down my winning volleys, I wondered why Sam didn’t retrieve the balls himself. And then, he backed away from the table briefly and everything made sense. Sam had an artificial right leg. I felt horrible for my offensive tactics.

That moment has stayed with me for a long time. Don’t get me wrong. I still have that competitive spirit as my good friend Mario would attest to after I roughed him up (possibly elder abuse) after a spirited card game last week. But since my cancer time, I do look at things differently.

I realize that competition and compassion lie at the opposite ends of the interpersonal spectrum. I also have come to learn that life is not about competition; it’s not about how talented or productive you are; it’s not about keeping score. If it was, I’d be losing by about 100-6 since cancer blindsided me five months ago.

The friendly visits, phone calls and e-mails that I have received during my downtime reinforce my belief that compassion always trumps competition, that the game of life is all about willing the good of others. Indeed, the support of family and friends has made all the difference. The challenge for me now is to pay forward that compassion to others by trying to be a lot less like Simon Cowell and a lot more like Simon of Cyrene.