Prayer is not for victory, but for dignity after defeat — to “stand by the road, and cheer as the winners go by.” In an old poem titled The Prayer of a Sportsman, Berton Braley captures this idea with disarming simplicity. In today’s world, where reward and success are celebrated, loss and defeat have become almost a black mark on a person’s life. But it was not always so. When traditional games were played in large gardens and parks or on shady verandas during the warm, sultry afternoons, it was assumed that losing was inevitable. It was a time to wait patiently, watch others play, and then, if possible, take a second chance.
What losing quietly taught us was that it was alright to lose — it was normal, cyclical, and socially acceptable. It taught us patience to wait for the next chance, it taught us to assess ourselves and figure out how to do better, it taught us how to watch others carefully and learn from them — and all this without adults’ presence. Play was about fun, and losing was a part of play — it did not end play, it merely reset the form of participation.
Losing happened without adult mediation — in fact, they rarely entered the game. There were no appeals, no explanations, and no emotional processing. Children negotiated their own fairness and trusted the game to continue. In fact, it was the fun and the game that defined interactions — not the winners and losers. This is not to say that there were no tears or anger or emotions at losing.
In fact, our mythology is replete with stories of Shiva and Parvati playing dice and the quarrels that ensued when one of them lost the game. But the quarrels were sorted, emotions were handled, and they returned to the game.
So too in the case of many. An angry young boy walked away in a huff, carrying his cricket bat after being declared out. Yet, after some spirited negotiations and perhaps an extra chance as a consolation, the ruffled feathers were smoothed out and the game resumed.
On those long, lazy afternoons, when play time was endless, our games were teaching us invaluable lessons. It was not merely traditional games, but the art of traditional play.
Sadly, today’s zero-failure childhood has changed the very essence of play. While children were previously happy to play and ready to lose without trophies, today’s retry buttons have changed the approach. Even the very act of play demands a reward.
When we conduct games in many places, the most common question raised is whether there will be a prize for playing or for winning. It has become necessary to reward someone just to play or participate — and incidentally, it is usually adults who seek this validation.
This has resulted in structured activities with protected outcomes, where adults step in too quickly and losing is reframed as damage rather than experience. There are trophies for participation and prizes up to even the 15th place!
The concept of loss is slowly disappearing from modern childhood, and with that comes the obsession with winning, whether in our activities or those we support. Sports teams are booed, and even threatened, when they lose and are idolised when they win.
In this and every other way, we try to erase the very concept of losing. When that happens, resilience becomes a workshop topic rather than something built with experience. Children grow up unfamiliar with disappointment, and failure becomes shocking instead of survivable.
What we need is a quiet return to the playground. I am reminded of a conversation with an 80-year-old lady. She recalled an incident from her childhood when she sat with her friend playing with tamarind seeds on the riverbank. She was playing an excellent game and had collected a number of seeds. However, she did not notice that the seeds were on the edge of the water and were slowly being washed away. When the game ended, her friend was declared the winner because she had held on to her seeds!
The old lady laughed as she remembered this incident. She did not think of it as a loss but rather as an experience to be remembered and cherished, even decades later. Play is about making memories — not winning and losing. A much-needed approach in the world today.