Winning. It’s an American addiction. We love sitting on top of the heap, an attitude that goes back to the beginning of our country. During its early years, two wide oceans protected us from foreign interference. The geographic isolation allowed our nascent country to build an adventurous culture bent on chasing opportunities in the vast expanse of land within its borders.
Life became more complicated when improved transportation brought large ships and legions of newcomers to our shores. While each wave of people added to the stress of absorbing new cultures, needs, and ideas, the result was the creation of the American melting pot that became our signature identity. We experiment, mix things up and take risks to build something new.
This pattern accelerated with the rise of the Digital Age and its 24/7 distribution channel of images, data, and conversations. Virtually overnight, anyone, anywhere, anytime could compete with us. The exponential increase of competitive forces raised the bar for winning. It also made us better.
“Better?” you say. How is that possible? Everywhere you look you see a global mess. Wars, rampant corruption, and exploitation of the poor abound. There’s nothing good about those things. They can make you want to disappear down a dark rabbit hole of despair.
Nevertheless, despite serious adversity, we haven’t lost our appetite for the heady experience of winning. Politicians who win elective office attract followers that support them with religious zeal. Winners of bidding wars for companies garner high, albeit grudging respect. Sports teams who win playoffs attain mythical status and go down in the history books.
Achievements are laudable, but in our current partisan environment they are accompanied by the belief that for someone to win, someone must lose. That equation has a cost. The recent Olympic Games gave us a reminder of what we all lose with this narrow definition of success.
What happens when the Olympics come to town?
Every two years top athletes from all over the world descend upon an idyllic setting to compete for the Olympic Gold. The Gold represents one of the most prestigious awards in sports. With their eyes on the prize, the athletes dedicate themselves to winning a fierce competition that tests not only skills but also their character.
I’ve always revered the Olympics. What’s not to love? Winter or summer, when the Olympics arrive, I bury my head into the TV to lap up the specter of athletes from around the world run farther, jump higher, and stretch muscles beyond what seems possible.
I saw my first Olympic athletes as an eight-year-old in my hometown where the U.S. Olympic skating team trained at the Broadmoor ice skating rink. My friends and I pressed our noses against the thick glass barrier between us and the rink where slim, elegant skaters wearing tight shiny outfits spun, twisted, and soared into the air. Some of them went on to win Olympic Gold. All of them showed the power of single-minded discipline, hours of practice, and ambition.
My respect deepened when as an adult I attended the Olympics. I never pretended to be an accomplished athlete. However, in my youth I’d arrive home from school, throw off my shoes and tear across long stretches of college lawns opposite my Southern California home. The sensation of my feet skimming over the grass felt like freedom itself.
With those memories in mind, when the Olympics came to the city where I then lived, how could I not visit the Olympic training track? At the time, local inhabitants generally eschewed sports participation. Their disinterest in something so dull as physical workouts gave me a gift. When I arrived at the track on a summer evening before the Games opened, I found myself alone with a sea of champion women runners from many countries.
I settled down into the empty bleachers to watch. While I was a respectable runner, those women walked faster than I could run. Their legs flew forward rising into splits as they shot down the track. Each runner worked alone, starting and restarting to get the take off just right, then leaning into the course and ramping up their speed with every stride.
On the surface, the evening was all business. Interwoven into the background, however, was an undercurrent of civility. While the women were there to hone their skills to run faster than everyone else, that did not translate into a hostile environment. They paid attention to how fast and well others ran, but afterwards you’d hear them kid each other, compare notes about the venue, and wish each other luck.
What makes the Olympics hard, and unique?
The training track atmosphere carried into the Games themselves. The athletes paraded into the stadium unified by the excitement of representing their countries, the urge to advance their sport, and the chance of winning the Gold.
International sports competitions are hard work, demanding the best of people while the whole world is watching. They have to overcome fear, self-doubt, and demons from the past that tug from beneath, whether it was a recent bad race or the loss of a beloved family member. Competing at the Olympics is not for the faint of heart. However, the allure of the Gold motivates them to push through their fear to pursue it.
My attendance of the Olympics was many years ago. From what I’ve seen since, little has changed. Athletes pour into the venues full of energy, ready to go. They love what they do, despite all the scariness and hard work it took to get there.
Aside from wanting to do well, the athletes appreciate and support each other. Competitors embrace their rivals at the bottom of the hill after an expert run. Men’s teams compliment women’s teams. When politics interfere, they step up and reaffirm their admiration. An injured athlete draws universal concern. In between events, they socialize, make friends, and swap pins.
The audience reflects that behavior. While spectators cheer loudly for their country’s athletes, they also applaud performances from other countries. If their chosen champion has an unexpected bad event, they nevertheless clap for the winner. Country affiliation matters. What matters more is recognition of remarkable athleticism and the courage to commit to it.
What do the Olympics teach us about winning?
Olympics junkie that I am, the 2026 Games found me parked in front of the TV for many hours. Aside from enjoying the sports, I couldn’t help wondering, why can’t we translate our ferocious competitiveness in politics and business into a mutual desire for something better? Does winning mean that someone has to win and others must lose, or is it possible that there is a higher purpose that raises the game for everyone?
As a former Olympian wrote, “When the level rises for everyone, the competition becomes stronger, performances improve, and the impact reaches far beyond one start line or one result.”
I couldn’t agree more. When I think about my business career and what has given it meaning, what stuck out was what I discovered along the way about winning.
My work as an executive and lawyer involved negotiating deals and building businesses. Without a doubt, I encountered a lot of people who talked in terms of someone losing in order for them to win. However, at the end of the day, I saw something different. When the parties sought agreements that delivered what an organization needed to achieve its goals and satisfy the needs of the other side, the deals closed with positive and sustainable results. It’s possible, if you are willing to invest the time and effort to understand what both sides want.
To arrive there, I learned to keep my mouth shut and listen. I paid attention not only to what they said, but how they said it, or what they didn’t say. Similar to the runners on the Olympic training track, I had to size up the competition to figure out what they were about and what it would take to win their agreement. Once I had an initial read on the situation, I followed up with clarifying questions (which weren’t always welcome), keeping the floor open for conflicting views. Armed with information, I translated it into a proposal I thought would work.
The endgame in each case was to create something new and better. It opened doors for such outcomes as buying a modern facility that offered improved working conditions and faster throughput, capitalizing a business that provided valuable jobs to a community, and building a program that elevated executive talent.
Bringing the parties together demanded focus, ingenuity, and patience, plus a good team. There were many hairy moments and issues to solve, often arising from things people “forgot” to tell you, usually at the last minute. A variation of the old 90/10 adage says that 90 percent of the work needed to finish a project will occur in the final 10 percent of the time. That’s when a deadline forces people to do the work or make the decisions they’ve been avoiding.
While deal making doesn’t rival the physical peril of skiing down a steep frozen slope at 80 miles an hour, closing a tough transaction felt like reaching the bottom of those ski slopes. Arriving there was our own version of Olympic Gold.
The gift of the Olympics
The Olympics give us the thrill of seeing athletes from over 200 countries realize a level of athletic achievement that climbs higher each year the Games are held. That impressive result is made possible by an environment that prizes excellence, commitment, and mutual support. Even more important, they remind us that we can put aside our differences and come together to celebrate stellar human achievement. That’s what the Olympics wins for the world. We can learn from that. And, ere we forget, every two years they will return to remind us.