In Rudyard Kipling’s wonderful poem “If,” one of the lines goes as follows: “If you can meet with triumph and disaster and treat those two imposters just the same.”

President John F. Kennedy once gave a more black-and-white assessment of what it’s like to experience a big victory or endure a devastating loss. He said, “Victory has a hundred fathers, while defeat is always an orphan.”

Throughout a lifetime of being immersed in competition as a player and now a coach, I have tried to handle the thrills and the heartbreaking low points with equal outward calm. But if you are a true competitor, either way, the fire never stops burning brightly inside.

I still remember vividly a time when I was a Little League baseball pitcher here in Glenwood and I came home after a loss in an important league game. A 9-year-old boy is not supposed to be beside himself with emotion, but I certainly was. Mostly, I was angry that I had not played up to the high standards that I always set for myself. I threw my mitt against the wall in the laundry room in full view of my mom. When my dad got home from the game a bit later, my mom, having witnessed my tirade, told my dad, “You had better teach that boy how to handle losing.” I was down in my bedroom at the time, but I overheard the reply, and his words still linger in my conscience: “Why would I want to teach him that!”

To this day, and for the rest of my life, I will think about a Saturday afternoon in early March 1995. My Glenwood girls basketball team had a slight 1-point lead over Fruita Monument in the district championship game at the Mesa College fieldhouse with just 6.2 seconds left to play. We lost the game on a last-second shot, mostly because my instructions in those waning moments were laced with emotion but not sound instruction. I still think about the two seniors I let down that day.

After a big setback in life, I believe we all try to regroup and think of ways to become better and not let the same situation get the best of us again. Some people internalize events more than others, but it’s most important to become driven and not broken. Don’t blame others. Pick up the pieces and move on with purpose.

When things get to the point where the victories don’t mean as much and the defeats don’t carry the same sting as they once did, maybe it’s time, as Coach Chavez used to always tell me, to “hang up your jockstrap.” He was so funny even when he was being serious.

Outside of my own family, Coach Chavez was my hero and guiding light. I was extremely lucky to be one of the few people who got to play basketball for him at Glenwood High School and to be an assistant coach under his tutelage. Almost everything I do now as a coach is a reflection of my time with him. He did not pass away, because part of him lives on in me.

I believe that Coach still watches over all of his boys, his Demons, and I know he is proud of us all. I’m very proud when I see so many old Glenwood grads roll into Roaring Fork High to watch a bunch of tough and talented Lady Rams do their thing on the court. Win or lose, we always seem to have each other’s back. What he taught us all doesn’t really have so much to do with the outcome of an athletic contest, but with how you are able to handle life’s false prophet known as a scoreboard.

That’s the way it should be.

Please mark Sunday, May 3, on your calendar for the annual Waterwells for Africa 5K run/walk at Veterans’ Park in Silt. All of the proceeds from the race go to the good folks at Sonlight Foursquare Church. The church helps with financial aid to build water wells in countries where food and water are in short supply. The race begins at 10 a.m., with registration starting at 9 a.m.

An avid runner, Mike Vidakovich is the girls basketball coach at Roaring Fork High School and a substitute teacher at Glenwood Springs Elementary. His column appears the third Wednesday of each month in the Post Independent.