Not Your Day

As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)

By Ronald N. Guy Jr.

I walked into my freshman homeroom on 12 January 1987 tired and grumpy.  I did not want to be there.  Not that I ever wanted to be there, you know, because it was school.  But this was next-level resistance.  The rude alarm, the morning preparation, the drive to school, the cold January weather – it all added to my irritation.  With zero effort to control my non-verbals, I plopped into my desk and pouted. 

My homeroom teacher approach with caution.  He possessed a personal knowledge of his students that provided a solid hunch as to what was bothering me on that dreadful morning.  He cut right to the chase, knowing I was in no mood for generic questioning about my mood.  Referring to the Washington’s 17-0 loss to the New York Giants in the NFC Championship Game the day before, he offered a direct, “Tough game, huh?”.  I needed the opening.  This being the days long before Twitter or group chats, the emotional rage has been boiling in my brain without a release valve for about 12 hours at this point.  Sleep hadn’t provided relief as the consequence of the outcome had permeated my subconscious.

The simple question triggered a flow of frustrations, what if’s, officiating gripes, grievances over player performances and general despair over how far the Burgundy and Gold had come only to lose to the Giants, Washington’s primary rival in the NFC East at that point.  My teacher listened, and acknowledging my feelings without arguing any points.  He noted that he shared my disappointment and then pivoted to the positives: they team had come far, had a strong roster, excellent coaching and, in all likelihood, would be in the Super Bowl mix for years to come.  Then, before turning back to his homeroom duties at the cusp of another school day, he said, “You know, Ron, sometimes it’s just not your day.”

At that moment, and for years after, that summation stuck in my craw.  It felt so submissive, like a lame excuse after getting defeated.  It implied that the loser didn’t do anything wrong, that they gave their all and it was just the forces of the universe that had conspired against them to produce this unfortunate outcome.  Could I use this in my own adolescent life?  Sorry for wrecking your truck, dad, it just wasn’t my day on the road.  Hey, mom, I know I flunked calculus, but, you know, it just wasn’t my semester.  Apologies for tanking that presentation, boss, Tuesdays on cloudy days when the temperature is below 50 degrees just doesn’t jive with my psyche. 

The years since that long ago January day have proven my teacher correct.  The 1986-87 season was the Giants’ year, not Washington’s; it was the culmination of an impressive crescendo from a three-win Giants team in 1983, to 14 regular season wins in 1986 and a Super Bowl victory in January 1987.  My initial disdain for my teacher’s explanation – that it just wasn’t our day – and my snap judgement that it was nothing more than personal therapy talk for not getting it done, was flat wrong. 

What he knew that day was that competition is impossibly complex and the verdict – winning or losing – is comprised of tangled web of variables, some controllable, some not.  Physical effort, film study, pre- and in-game strategy certainly influence a game’s outcome.  But so does a fingertip on an otherwise perfect pass, an untimely gust of wind, the fickle bounce of a loose ball, an untimely injury, the alignment of a locker room and emotional state of a team.  The answer to who won is always clear; why they won, well, that’s a lot more complicated.  

That long-ago homeroom lesson has come to mind many times in the decades since.  Like sports, life is complex.  Every situation, be it personal or professional, is influenced by a myriad of factors.  Regardless of effort or intention, sometimes it just won’t be your day.  That doesn’t mean you’re a failure, or that success is beyond your grasp; it only means that you fell short in that moment. 

Hmm…maybe school wasn’t so bad after all.