A passionate Giannis says there are lessons, not failure, in losing. And he's right.
What’s in a word? Failure by any other name would be defeat. Is it the weight we give certain words, the context or the negative connotation with which they’re addressed? Does someone have the right to be upset about the application of a word others would freely use?
When the question was posed to Giannis Antetokounmpo late Wednesday night (by then early Thursday morning), “Do you view this season as a failure?” he dropped his head into both hands and audibly groaned.
After posing the question back to the reporter, asking if every year he didn’t receive a promotion was a failure, Antetokounmpo took the example further.
“Every year you work, you work towards something, towards a goal, right? Which is to get a promotion, be able to take care of your family, to be able to provide the house for them or take care of your parents," he said. "You work towards a goal. It’s not a failure; it’s steps to success.”
The passion with which Antetokounmpo spoke for two minutes on the subject was a departure from his usual tone. This is relative, because a fired-up Giannis is still fairly docile compared to his league counterparts. He paused three times during his speech to reign himself in and apologize to the reporter for any undue offense.
In fairness to the original question that followed the Bucks' 128-126 overtime loss, this is a team that admittedly did not reach its goals for the season. The overall No. 1 seed, bounced in the first round of the playoffs by the play-in No. 8 seed Miami Heat. Defeated in five games after twice giving up a double-digit fourth quarter lead. Before Antetokounmpo would leave his media availability, he would boldly declare it “the worst postseason ever.” The Bucks are only the fourth top seed to lose in the first round of the playoffs in the seven-game format. This, after a season in which they won a league best 58 games, railed off a 16-game win streak, cliched home court advantage in the playoffs in early April and averaged 123.4 points per game from January 16-April 5.
Understandably, failure, or some synonym of the sort, can creep into consciousness when taking into account all the Bucks accomplished then subsequently lost.
But maybe, there’s something to Antetokounmpo's response, as well. This wasn’t just a two-time MVP pontificating after a shocking defeat though. The crux of what he was saying shouldn’t be lost.
“There's always steps to it,” continued Antetokounmpo. “Michael Jordan played 15 years, won six championships; the other nine years was a failure? That's what you're telling me?
“There's no failure in sports. You know, there's good days, bad days, some days you are able to be successful, some days you're not. Some days it’s your turn, some days it’s not your turn. And that's what sports is about. You don't always win; some other team’s gonna win. And this year, somebody else is gonna win. Simple as that.
“We’re gonna come back next year, try to be better, try to build good habits, try to play better, not have a 10-day stretch with play bad basketball. You know, and hopefully we can win a championship. So 50 years from 1971 to 2021 that we didn't win a championship, it was 50 years of failure? No, it was not. It was steps to it. You know, and we were able to win one. Hopefully we can win another one.”
Ironically, knowing what we do of Michael Jordan, if asked, he probably would define those other nine seasons as a failure. But should he?
Maybe failures and success aren’t just championships or defeats. Maybe failures and successes are every little moment in between. Maybe it’s losing one game but winning the next. Maybe it’s setting one record, even if falling just shy of another. Maybe it’s doing something detrimental in one play that cautions a person to never repeat the mistake again. Maybe failures and successes aren’t someone’s defining legacy, but instead the stories and the lessons they learn along the way.
Maybe defining a situation, and by proxy the person within it, as simply a failure or a success, is a disservice to the sum of their parts. Maybe using the word “failure" or “success” indicates something is entirely black and white. But the trouble with seeing things as only black or white is that you miss all the in between, and that’s where the color lives.
Maybe classifying something as an abject failure not only puts it into a box that ignores all the good that could come from it, but stains the person at the helm. At that point, whether intended or not, the word leaks into every facet of their lives, attaching itself to things that should be a point of pride not only on the court but in all other avenues of life as well.
The entire time Antetokounmpo was delivering this answer, his two toddler boys were waiting just on the other side of the door, clad in footy pajamas that relayed the late hour, and laughing with an exuberance that belayed it. As Giannis slowly trotted out of the room for the last time of the season, a slightly dejected tilt to his head, the door opened and his sons immediately erupted into shouts of “Daddy, Daddy!” They jumped onto his long legs and begged to be held. To them, in that moment, the night wasn’t a failure because nothing was greater than seeing their dad walk through the door, ready to carry them home.
Maybe that was the point Giannis was trying to make all along.
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More: A passionate Giannis says there are lessons, not failure, in losing. And he's right.
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This article originally appeared on Milwaukee Journal Sentinel: Bucks' Giannis Antetokounmpo sees lessons, not failure, in losing
