Some people are drawn to luxury, and many others to power. Meanwhile, I have an inexplicable affection for losers. But I’m not talking about the tragic, Shakespearean kind; I’m talking about the kind of underdogs that have been so thoroughly trounced by life that even the most hardened pessimist would look at them and say, “Well, that’s unfortunate.”
Whether it’s the basement-dwelling team in the league standings or the person everyone has long since given up on, I find myself rooting for them with the fervor of a gambler who’s down to their last chip. I know I’m not alone in this curious proclivity. There’s something undeniably satisfying about backing the statistically improbable. Perhaps deep down, we all crave the thrill of seeing the impossible happen.
Throughout my life, I’ve been surrounded by people who seemed destined to be life’s punching bags. But rather than regale you with an anthology of sob stories, I’ll keep things brisk. Let’s just say that a shockingly high percentage of the people I went to high school with were firmly in the “underdog” category. No, they weren’t those quirky underdogs you see in movies who suddenly discover they have a secret talent for hacky sack and go on to become world champions. Sadly, these were the kinds of underdogs who, despite occasional glimmers of potential, seemed perpetually on the verge of being swallowed whole by the quicksand of mediocrity.
It’s a real tragedy. We’re all born with some measure of potential — granted, some more than others — but so many of us are robbed of the opportunity to realize it by the myriad obstacles life so generously provides. Still, there’s a perverse joy in watching someone else finally catch a break. It’s as if their victory over the long odds somehow justifies our own misguided hope in humanity.
There’s no better place to witness this peculiar brand of optimism than in the wide world of sports – for pretty much every sport, the underdog narrative is practically a genre unto itself. Within that genre, baseball reigns supreme as the ultimate metaphor for life’s eternal struggle between success and failure. With its interminable pace and endless grind, baseball mirrors life’s long, slow march towards oblivion. Most of us will never make it to the big leagues. So, we give it our best shot in the minors, don’t we? It’s not shameful to never reach the top; the real shame lies in never trying.
Perhaps that’s why I’m endlessly fascinated by Major League Baseball teams that are deep in the throes of a “rebuild.” It’s a painful process, often marked by soul-crushing losses and the occasional glimmer of hope — like a rare sunny day during a Vermont winter, indeed a fleeting occurrence. But even these long-suffering teams are composed of players who, despite their lackluster records, have earned the right to don the uniform. You can’t take that away from them, no matter how many times they strike out with runners in scoring position.
Sometimes, one of these beleaguered teams manages to string together a few wins, and for a brief, shining moment, they defy the odds. It’s like watching a bad movie that suddenly has one brilliant scene. While it doesn’t redeem the whole film, it makes the experience worth it. These fleeting triumphs are what keep us coming back, year after year, hoping that this time, things will be different.
But sports, like life, isn’t just about winning. It’s about the chance to play the game, to show up even when the deck is stacked against you. Too often, we measure our worth by our wins and losses, forgetting that sometimes, just getting out there is victory enough. We root for the underdog because no one else expects anything from them. They have nothing to lose, and in that freedom lies the potential for something truly magical.
I’ve always rooted for the underdogs because, frankly, it’s more fun. Sure, winning all the time might feel nice, but it’s also a bit boring. When you’re not supposed to win, and yet somehow you do, it’s like finding a twenty-dollar bill in the pocket of a jacket you haven’t worn in years. It’s unexpected, it’s delightful, and it makes the whole journey worth it.
So, when was the last time you rooted for an underdog? Did they rise to the occasion, or did they crash and burn in spectacular fashion? Either way, I’m willing to bet it was an experience you won’t soon forget. After all, the best stories are never about the sure bets—they’re about the long shots, the dark horses, the ones who were never supposed to make it but somehow, against all odds, did. That’s why, despite everything, I’ll always be rooting for them.
~ Amelia Desertsong
