By Bello Hussein Adoto
Have you ever heard: “No one remembers who came in second”? The quote is often credited to the legendary golfer Walter Hagen; others credit it to Enzo Ferrari. Whatever the source, the quote is popular. I have read it in more places than I can remember. Self-help gurus make it a part of their gung-ho anthems to nudge you into giving your best shot, doing better than average, and becoming great, not just good.
You have to be the first person in your class. The best player in your team. The gold medallist in your sport. The brightest star on the planet. This is not minding the fact that Walter Hagen himself is third, not first or even second, in the list of golfers with the highest professional majors.
The problem with “no one remembers who came in second” is that it feeds a utopic mindset in people who see things in binaries. To these people, you either win or you lose. There’s no halfway or middle ground. There’s nothing like you tried. There’s nothing you can do better. Your efforts are nought if you come second. No one will remember you. You go just dey explain, explain; no evidence.
So, what do we do? Some of us try to clinch the first place at all costs. We put in the work, burn the night candles, and sacrifice sleep and transient comfort for the great good. Others lie, cheat, and scheme their way to the top. They don’t mind breaking the rules, engaging in unethical behaviour, or even hurting others to win. The goal is to win first; the how can come later, if it comes at all.
Then, the rest of us aren’t so sure of our capacities to win, so we don’t compete. Or we compete only when we have higher chances of winning than losing. According to Carol Dweck, this category is for those who have a “fixed mindset”, the view that if you don’t already have the capacity to do something, you can’t do it at all.
Mindset aside, we are not the only ones who want to be remembered for coming first. Other people are trying to win, too—tens, hundreds, and thousands of others burning the night candle, scheming their ways, or hurting others, looking to win. We may win, and we may not.
I am not trying to romanticise mediocrity. There should be good, better, best to set the standards for excellence. There should be standards to measure and reward performance. We need the binaries of success and failure to draw the lines between the champ and the trash.
Nevertheless, that line should be thick and wide enough to accommodate the spectrum of outcomes between incompetence and excellence. Anyone who puts their hats into the ring and achieves the thresholds of excellence should be celebrated if not remembered for their efforts. Efforts should not only matter when they produce a first.
However, in a world of “no one remembers who came in second” cheerleaders, effort is not enough. Stepping up to represent your school or class in a quiz or debate is not enough if you don’t win. Surviving medical school feels less of a win if you are not the Best Graduating Student in something. It goes on and on.
Then, you look at the lives of those keeping the scores of winners and losers, the ones who remember those who came first but don’t remember those who came in second, and wonder what their places in history are.
Who remembers these people? Who remembers the commentators at the 1996 Olympics? Who remembers the journalists who celebrated Nigeria and Africa? Who remembers the fans and snobs that choose who deserves the cheers or the jeers? Do you? I suppose some do, but they are a minority.
If we all don’t remember the commentators, the fans, and the snobs, at least some will remember the players. At least, we remember Brazil. At least, we remember Holland at the 2010 World Cup, Argentina in 2014, Croatia in 2018, and France in 2022. We remember Sneijder. We remember Messi, Modric, and Mbappe. We remember those who strode into the pitch to gun for the gold, even if they didn’t get it.
If we don’t remember them, at least these people remember themselves. Some self-help gurus would say, “The only person who remembers who comes in second is the person who came in second.” And I agree. How you see yourself is what matters more. Your win is yours as much as your losses. You’re your greatest fan and snob, not those watching the scoreboard.
At its core, the competition is not out there where there is gold, silver, or bronze. There’s no first prize or second place. There’s you, you, you. You—the one in this wild and endless competition—are to decide what to compete for, whether to put your best foot forward, be sure you’ve done your best, and hope the best comes out of it. The validation is yours to give first before the world resonates it. Whatever you get or don’t get from that will be on you, not the fans or snobs.
The greater competition is in beating your good self to become better, polishing your metal, and turning it into gold. That competition is within, and that’s where the win or loss should start from.
Don’t delude yourself into thinking it doesn’t matter if you are remembered. It does. Recognition matters. Excellence matters. You can’t afford to be complacent or mediocre. So, start polishing. Build diligently. Show up good, prepared. Pursue excellence. When the chips are down and “no one remembers who came in second,” you will remember yourself. What would you want to remember yourself for?
