I took two of my nieces to their indoor lacrosse game over the weekend. They are in first and second grade and I was really excited to see them and their friends in action. I was once a lacrosse player so this felt a bit like a return to my glory days (although in my day, there were no face masks, no rules against checking and no rules against throwing the ball directly at the goalie… we also played barefoot and made our own sticks from trees we cut down in the forest surrounding our village).

I found a seat in the bleachers and looked out across the field to their team bench. Shehan, the older of the two, waived at me and Morgan gave me a thumbs up. The girls did a great job throughout the game and I was really impressed by their skills. I don’t think I was nearly as talented at their ages.

As I sat and watched their game, however, I had no idea that there were lessons to be learned about competition.

At first Morgan was marked up with a girl who looked to be three times as tall as her. I was fairly confident that she was in eighth grade. Morgan, the first grader, was already younger and smaller than anyone else on the team so I knew this was going to be interesting (and likely entertaining). I watched with pride as Morgan looked the girl up and down and shrugged. She seemed utterly unaffected by the size differential. Morgan marked her girl so well that the girl never even got a pass.

In the second half, Morgan was marked up with a girl who was actually a head smaller than her. The girl’s jersey hung to her knees and her face mask was five sizes too large. I was excited to see the match-up; if Morgan had done so well against the taller girl, I could only imagine how she’d handle this little peanut.

Oh, how wrong I was. That little girl had amazing stick work and speed. Morgan kept up with her and played great defense but the girl bested Morgan a few times. I wondered how my niece was feeling and was relieved to see the two girls talking as they waited for the game to start up again.

After the game, the little girl and her family walked by us. Morgan, who was sitting on the floor fixing her shoe, gave the girl a silent “thumbs up” and looked up at me and said, with a big smile first-grader smile, “That girl was so good!”

Ah, the innocence of babes is refreshing! There I was, concerned that Morgan would be disappointed or frustrated. I thought for sure she had something negative to say — the girl tripped her, the girl played dirty… something! But she was just impressed by another player’s skills. She had given her all on the field and done an excellent job. There was just someone out on the field who did an even better job that day.

As I reflected on that game, I realized how much we lawyers can learn from Morgan’s reaction to a player who simply outplayed. It is so easy, and natural, to make the competition out to be the “bad guy” or to make things personal. It is so normal to feel like the best lawyer in the world when we win and the worst lawyer when we lose.

Yet we all have a job to do. We all have clients to represent. We bring everything we have to the trial table. Sometimes, we are just out-maneuvered by the competition. Sometimes, someone just has a better day. Sometimes, someone else just gets lucky.

It would be alarming if we weren’t at all disappointed by a loss. (We can’t emulate a six-year-old to a T!) But how refreshing it would be to see more lawyers reach out across the trial table and shake the victor’s hand for a job well done and a victory well-earned. How refreshing it would be to leave it in the courtroom and to walk out as colleagues.

I think that this is the way it is supposed to be and probably the way it was in the litigating days of old. These days, you see less and less collegiality and flexibility by members of the Bar. Perhaps it is time for more of us to set the example.

Powered by Bookmarkify™