The Case for Running Up the Score in Sports

A columnist for The Arizona Republic provoked readers' rage when he wrote a column accusing a high school football team of bad sportsmanship . Its crime? Running up the score against a hapless opponent. In the reader comments section, people buried Scott Bordow in vitriol, questioning his character and even his manhood.

I think readers too harsh. But I also disagreed with Bordow. I don't always consider running up the score to be poor sportsmanship. In fact, it's led to some of my best memories of playing sports. I remember very few scores from my days playing in roller hockey and soccer leagues. And most of what stands out are the lopsided losses. They gave me a true challenge far greater than any evenly matched game.

College Kids Versus Pros

I was 19 years old when I played my first organized game of roller hockey - my team lost 17-4, and I loved every minute of it.

And get this: I was the goalie. Every single one of those 17 pucks went past me.

Why do I remember this as a good thing? Because the guys on the other team were pro hockey players, and we were college kids playing for the Blade Devils, Arizona State University's club team. I used to watch some of these guys play for the Phoenix Roadrunners, with the occasional trip to the NHL to play for the Los Angeles Kings. My team, on the other hand, was so new that we didn't even have jerseys; we wore purple-and-yellow loaners from the Rolling Thunder Inline Hockey League.

They took nearly 80 shots at me. I stopped more than a quarter of what pro hockey players could pour on me. Fact.

Local Scrubs Versus Even More Pros

Another blowout loss was a 12-4 Roto-rootering about a year later at the Koho Cup. That time, I played for a local team called The Slugs, a band of ludicrously nice guys who had exactly four quality hockey players among them. Well, really three-and-a-half (Henri wasn't nearly as good as he thought).

Our opponents were again pro hockey players. One was a Finnish national team player. Another had played (so I heard) as a fourth-liner for the NHL's Dallas Stars.

I played out of my head in that game. Every save brought praise from my opponents. Throughout the rest of the tournament, no local team gave up fewer than 20 goals to them.

They played their hardest. So did I. And I had the time of my life. It was awesome being totally overpowered, yet managing to hold my own - a true Kobayashi Maru scenario in which the only victory would be performing gracefully in a no-win scenario.

Had either of these teams held back, they would've robbed me. I never would've seen how I could hold my head up in the face of overwhelming odds. Even right after the final whistle in these games, I felt good. I knew these were moments of growth.

But Is It Bad for Kids?

You might wonder how this could affect a younger player. I have great memories of an 11-0 blowout when I was a U12 soccer player for a local club called Juventus (not to be mistaken for the Italian giants!). We played some team called the Patriots. And they handed us our butts on a platter. They never slacked off, either.

And I don't recall being ashamed. Nor angry. I remember being impressed. I could plainly see their skill and teamwork. It would've been aspirational if our coach knew how to take our limited physical gifts and get more out of them. He didn't.

But I certainly didn't hold that against the Patriots. The whistle blew with score at 11-nil. We high-fived and said "good game," I meant it. Remember, I was 11.

I disagree with Bordow's premise. That doesn't mean I think he's a "wuss" or a "loser" as some readers described him. I just think he hasn't considered all the angles.

Again, consider my memories. I remember these lopsided losses as occasions that brought out my best. I can barely even remember any specific wins. What can you take from that?