The agony of defeat | Greg Asimakoupoulos

Published 3:15 pm Friday, October 24, 2025

Losing hurts more than winning feels good!

Now there’s a memorable bumper sticker slogan. I was reminded of that axiom after the Mariners’ heartbreaking loss in the seventh game of the American League Championship Series. As I woke up the next morning I had a knot in my stomach. It was akin to the angst I felt after the Seahawks nightmarish loss in the 2015 Super Bowl.

As you know, there was a tangible pall that hung over the Pacific Northwest the day after the Mariners came to within eight outs of going to their first ever World Series. Even my eight-year-old granddaughter could not contain her tears. Yes, it’s true. Losing does hurt more than winning feels good.

Don’t get me wrong. Winning is wonderful. When the Toronto Blue Jays celebrated after game 7, there was more than champagne popping. Joy was bubbling big time. Emotions were on full display. Achieving desired accomplishments comes with commensurate satisfaction. But somehow that elation of winning is less impactful than the pain of loss. The thrill of victory does not last nearly as long as the agony of defeat.

Reflecting on our common grief this past week, I’ve mined a diamond of truth in the depths of our communal sorrow. Our Seattle Mariners’ remarkable run this season has drawn us together as one. In spite of the political, cultural and religious differences that increasingly divide us, our Cinderella team provided us a focal point. For the past several weeks we have looked beyond our differences and focused on Dan Wilson’s boys.

During the playoffs I was flying across country to attend a family wedding. I wore my Mariners cap on the plane. It was my personal way of expressing my pride in our hometown team. I was surprised by the reaction. I lost count of how people smiled approvingly or actually commented on their love of the Ms.

The achievements we witnessed this season by our Mariners resulted in an enthusiastic and loyal fan base. And the nail-biting come-from-behind victories to move on in the playoffs cemented that loyalty all the more. Our team united us in their winning ways. But the same is true as we make peace with the fact that the Blue Jays are the ones playing the Dodgers in the World Series instead of us. As we lick our wounds, we are experiencing another kind of unity. We are one in our disappointment. We are united in our heartache.

Somehow there is comfort in knowing that we are not the only ones depressed by our team’s defeat. As I read comments on social media and hear commentators on local sports radio, I know my grief is shared by others. Even watching interviews with the Mariners players in the locker room after that heartbreaking loss helped me realize we are not alone. We are one in our sadness.

Speaking of bumper sticker slogans, there is another one to which I often refer. A shared joy is a doubled joy. A shared sorrow is half a sorrow. It’s really true. When our team is winning, we feel the excitement far more when we are watching the game with a friend. But when our team is on the losing end, the emotional pain is reduced by knowing we are not alone. In victory and defeat, there is unity when we are focused in the same direction.

When it comes to measuring grief, a baseball team falling short of a desired destination is dwarfed in significance when compared to a loss of a loved one or the death of a marriage. Losing one’s health to a doctor’s diagnosis or losing one’s home to a natural disaster is far more devastating. The pain of unexpected unemployment or the gut-wrenching estrangement of a family member can be incalculable. We all experience grief and because we do we are drawn together by heartache.

Our universal experience of loss is a means by which we find comfort and offer it. Empathy is made possible by what we have personally experienced. No wonder Saint Paul calls the first century Christians in Galatia to “bear one another’s burdens…” (Galatians 6: 2) And the imperfections that life pitches us provide plenty of opportunities to do just that.

Guest columnist Greg Asimakoupoulos is a former chaplain at Covenant Living at the Shores in Mercer Island.