The 10-Step Recovery Program for the Tormented Loser

When given the task of speaking about dealing with losses, I could have easily compiled some helpful hints from the vast literature that exists on sports psychology, particularly with respect to fostering positive outlooks and analyses. But to be perfectly honest, it is not always that easy. In fact, in a sport that affords little monetary gain, and even less recognition or respect, squash professionals have a tendency to internalize their losses in quite harsh ways.

Case in point: I was recently playing a tournament in Dayton when I overheard two French players commiserating over how close they had (both!) come to quitting over the past few weeks. Mon dieu! A few poor quality sessions on court, one or two bad losses, and the thought of packing it all in starts to creep into their minds! Now, personal doubt is a common feeling that I think is natural in any professional sport, but the extension of doubt to considerations of complete resignation is a bit of a drastic step. And it is a step that I believe squash players do best, for when it comes to loss no one knows how to completely blow out the proportions of self-absorbed anguish quite like we do! This common tendency bears a name: the fate of the “tormented loser”. Every tormented loser follows a specific form of bereavement after a loss; here are the stages that many of us seem to (loosely) ascribe to…

1. Disbelief (1-5 min. post-match) – a lack of understanding of how one could have let the match slip away; typified by blank, emotionless inaction (generally sitting in a chair or on the floor, well away from the cheers and excitement surrounding the winner’s entourage.)

2. Distorted notions [infused with mild to severe bouts of anger] (5-20 min.) – playing various parts of the match through one’s mind, believing that if only one or two situations had been different, the entire consistency of the match would have been altered in one’s favor; generally skewed, inaccurate and sometimes preposterous, one typically sees bad calls, “lucky” nicks, and a basic understanding that God himself is out to get you as the result for one’s loss.

3. Total meltdown (20-35 min.) – feelings of self-pity and worthlessness, personified through the act of moping, wallowing, crying and other embarrassments that can only be carried out in one’s own presence (typically occurring in the confines of the shower.)

4. Dejection (35 - 55 min.) – trying (unsuccessfully) to understand how one has pursued a sport that involves running around in a box for so many years.

5. Feigned Nonchalance (1 -55 min.) – reacting to players’ and spectators’ comments such as “tough one” or “hard luck” with what outsiders will inexorably view as gracious composure and demeanor.

6. Loss of Appetite (55 - 57 min.) – the tormented loser (by nature) must embrace and amplify all forms of suffering, including a decision to prohibit the act of replenishment.

7. Rediscovery of Appetite (57 – 70 min.) – acute, overwhelming surge of hunger leads to a momentary lapse in self-torment, resulting in the stuffing of one’s face.

8. Community (70 – 90 min.) – coming together with other losers of the night, recounting what went wrong (and essentially voicing out one’s absurd thoughts from step 2.)

9. Perspective (90 – 120 min.) – recognizing that loss is an inevitability in sport, and that in the grand scheme of things, it really isn’t that big of a deal; understanding that one will get through this loss, just like one has done in every time previous; a slow return to reality, characterized by feelings of composure and calmness.

10. Balanced analysis (120 – 150 min.) – calling/emailing a coach, friend or loved one for support and to go over what really happened: what worked well, what (in actuality) failed, and what one will commit to improving upon return with the intensity, vigor, and fulfillment that lies at the core of why one plays the game in the first place.

Whatever one’s grieving process, it is crucial that we always reach a point of perspective and balanced analysis after a loss; it is only then that we can make lucid judgments, free of the irrational emotions that- as we have seen- can overwhelm us following a match. So the next time you see me (or one of the other players) struggling in a stage that you will now easily recognize, rather than the usual “bad luck” niceties (which could send someone spiraling in the endless abyss of dejection), a gentle push of encouragement towards the next step to recovery, and a reminder of the light at the end of the tunnel might do the trick in evoking a little smile….or a curt expletive (I don’t know, I can only really speak for myself!)