My son Max's soccer team usually wins easily. It has a number of large, experienced players. Well, as large and experienced you might find among first graders. The coaches and parents have had to work with the kids to keep them from acting like obnoxious bullies toward the end of their games.

The one week they lost, Max had been switched to the other team because of an imbalance in the number of players. This is a fairly informal league, especially at this age, and so teams routinely are adjusted so that all the kids can play as much as possible. I didn't attend that particular game, but Max scored a goal on his own team. This, you can imagine, did not go down well with his teammates on the Lime Green Cobra-Eating Dragons.

That's not the real name of the team. There are at least four more mascots woven in. I just can't remember what they are. Like I said, this is an informal league. Most often, we just refer to the teams by the color of their t-shirts.

Yesterday, Lime Green faced Teal. Teal has a number of school classmates of Lime Green. A lot of the kids have played plenty of soccer against each other on the playground. And they went at each other with a fury.

A good fury. A strong, spirited, sportsmanlike fury. The ball went up and down the field for 39 minutes. Both teams came close, but no one scored. Then Max stepped in front of a Teal throw-in, chested the ball down and launched it back up the field.

No one followed the ball or him.

Max is tall but not particularly fast, and a couple of Teal defenders reached him about twenty feet from the goal. He used his body to shield them from the ball and continued lumbering toward the open net (there are no goalies in the first grade league). He launched his shot about ten feet from the goal. Everyone thought he'd just missed on the short side.

Then the ball slipped by the inside of the post and settled at the back of the net.

Pandemonium. Teammates flew at Max from across the field and drowned him in excited hugs. In a tense and exciting contest, Max had just scored the winning goal.

The game deserved to be a tie. Both teams played hard, and both teams played well. The talent level on the two teams was similar. It was, easily, the best game I've ever seen one of Max's teams play.

If you know anything about six or seven-year-olds, you know that they can react badly to surprises. By the time Max scored his goal, most of the kids (and all of the parents) had grown accustomed to the idea of a nil-nil draw.

The goal sucked the life out of the crowd. Parents had been cheering the efforts of both teams, encouraging their children and hollering their support of outstanding plays on both sides of the ball. After the goal, the Lime Green parents gave a muted cheer and then fell silent. The Teal parents were silent, and then slightly surly. They wanted the equalizer, the goal that would put the score right at 1-1.

It never came. After another minute of strong play (the kids in Teal didn't seem much fazed by the goal), the game ended. The kids shook hands and gave high fives. Max talked to one of his friends on the Teal team. He was excited about his goal, and so was his friend. I sorta apologized to the boy's dad. I said I thought the game should have been a draw, given the great play by both teams.

"It's about scoring goals, right? Max got the goal. You guys won." The dad was very nice to Max, but obviously a bit put off by the twist at the end of the game.

It's exciting and gratifying to be the hero of the game. But I think you learn more about yourself when you know you're going to lose. I'm not talking about some fatalistic "We can't beat these guys" attitude. I'm talking about being down eleven runs in the seventh game of the World Series or watching your Heisman Trophy-candidate quarterback throw his third interception on a last-ditch drive. There's no shame in losing when you give your best effort--even if you don't play very well. More important, however, is continuing to play the game the way it ought to be played. Right up to the final whistle or out or whatever. Don't start throwing at the other teams batters or try to take out the knees of the other side's star receiver. If you do that, then you've dishonored yourself and the game.

The kids in Teal got it right. They lined up after the goal and tried to score. After the whistle, they lined up again and shook hands. It helps that most of the kids are friends, and they know they'll be playing each other again very soon. But the fact is that these kids already know how to play the game right.

Sports is a metaphor for life. Playing sports gives most kids self-confidence, but more importantly, it also teaches them how to handle setbacks. There's only one thing to do when you're knocked down: Get back up and keep playing the game the way it ought to be played. No cheap shots and no complaining.

A lot of us could stand to re-learn that lesson.

Jon Worley tried very hard not to be the obnoxious dad of the star of the game. He kinda succeeded.