Losing Sucks, but Quitting's Worse

There’s no way around it: losing sucks.

Whether you’re getting stomped 38-0 in flag football (been there, done that), outscored by your roommate on a stats exam (check), or repeatedly slaughtered in your favorite online first-person shooter (check), no one wants to lose. Coming up short just makes you feel inferior. I get that. Losing, however, is not an acceptable excuse to give up—especially if you’re a professional athlete.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve been inculcated for as long as I can remember with the premise quitting is wrong. Everyone has not-so-fond memories of the kid at recess who would quit when his team was losing or the friend who would turn off the video game console when you took a two-touchdown lead in Madden. Why do NFL players—I’m looking at you, DeSean Jackson, and you, the entire Giants defense—think it’s acceptable to hit the effort kill-switch during games (or, in Jackson’s case, over an entire season)?

 Last weekend, I had the “privilege” of watching an Eagles team that seemed to think “tackling” was an infectious disease to be avoided like, well, an infectious disease and whose “star” receiver managed to continue his streak of malfeasance by dropping a pair of passes in the endzone. 

Following the beatdown at the hands of the Patriots, quarterback Vince Young was apparently under the impression the team had just lost a scrimmage, as he appeared utterly insouciant at the loss and mentioned multiple times that the team just had to move forward and prepare for its Thursday night game against Seattle. Uh, Vince, you didn’t think this season-crucifying loss to the Patriots was a big deal? Really? Oh. Ok. Well, you’ll get ‘em next time. 

Four days later, the Eagles got stomped yet again, as the really-not-so-great-if-we’re-being-totally-honest-here Seahawks put up 31 points in a win that led to the following conversation about Marshawn Lynch with a friend who’s an Eagles fan.

Eric: “Yeah, I mean, he’s the kind of guy who gives the Eagles fits, though.”

Me: “A live one?”  

He proceeded to “turn that crap off” well before the game was over. 

Meanwhile, DeSean Jackson has taken petulance to an entirely new level. After a well-documented nimiety of transgressions ranging from complaints about his contract to getting benched in week 10 for, essentially, having a bad attitude, Jackson pulled out the Todd Pinkston Special alligator arms against the Patriots and  was unperturbed about his performance after the game. Then, against the Seahawks, Jackson proceeded to sulk and pout on the sidelines, appeared to blow off his teammates when approached, and, when asked about his behavior, said, “I’m not answering that type of question.” 

That’s exactly how you would want to go about getting a raise, right? I know that’s what I would do. I would show up to work at Starbucks, petulantly grumble through the shift while drastically messing up drinks, and not look at any of my co-workers. Then, if someone asked me about it, I would get offended and walk out. Why in the world wouldn’t the Eagles want to extend this guy?

The Eagles weren’t the only team that rolled over last weekend, though, and I don’t want to let the Giants’ defense off the hook. Monday night, in a game the Giants trailed for the entire second half, the defense appeared—with the exception of defensive end Jason Pierre-Paul—to stop trying. Down just 21-10 in the third quarter, Drew Brees juked safety Deon Grant out of his shoes on an eight-yard keeper that put the Saints up 28-10. 

By the fourth quarter, I could have picked up five yards per carry on the Giants. Down 35-17, Pierre Thomas runs a one-cut misdirection back to his left, and defensive end Dave Tollefson, safety Kenny Phillips, and cornerback Corey Webster all fail to keep contain, allowing Thomas to scamper in for another touchdown. Webster, instead of attempting to follow Thomas to the sideline, pulls up and is looking the other way shaking his head by the time Thomas crosses the goal-line. 

Then, with a minute left, the entire defense loses contain on Mark Ingram, who takes a pitch 35 untouched yards for the final score of the game. The only man sprinting after Ingram is Pierre-Paul, while cornerback Aaron Ross takes a nice amble in the park behind the play. The Giants defense, apparently, left its collective give-a-damn in the locker room at halftime. 

Maybe it’s radical of me to say, but when you’re making as much money as NFL players do, you should give your best effort on every play. I give my best effort on every flag football play, and I’m not even picking up a six-figure check for the game. I’m sure I’m not alone in this. As fans, we don’t care if you’re losing 49-0 (well, we do, and we’ll hate it, but we understand if you just get outplayed); we care very much if you give up. Why, we ask ourselves, should we care about this team if the guys on the team don’t even care? 

This lackadaisical attitude is what irked me so much about the NFL last weekend—and I don’t care at all about the Eagles or Giants. If the players can’t be bothered to give their best efforts, how can they or the league expect us to take the NFL seriously?