The Real MVPs

Jun 01, 2026

This week was full of grand slams (not from Denny’s) and homers (not Simpsons). You’ll have to work with me here, friends. I’m new to sports talk.

When I was younger, I misjudged sports. I assumed they were about deciding a winner and a loser, and that kind of thinking gave me performance anxiety. We get sold the idea of an us-versus-them early and it becomes hard to resist. But thinking in terms of winners and losers flattens the landscape and hides the irresistibly interesting and far more complicated truth of what’s really going on.

What I saw watching the Liberty take on the Mercury last week was so much more than simply dribbling balls and making baskets. It felt less like gladiators in an arena and more like a community figuring out how to work together in real time.

Here’s the truth: we can’t all be the ones who shoot. We can’t all be the ones who pass. Most of us don’t even get to wear uniforms. But that doesn’t make our parts any less valuable. We all give our attention, energy, and encouragement in unique ways and when we do so, we all win.

Referees contribute their judgment, regardless of how the crowd responds. The mascot provides levity to an event that can turn serious fast. Even the players who foul out are offering something — a chance to learn, a chance to respond. Each person doing each job teaches us how to level up, to be passionate, to go after what we want and let it go when it’s not meant for us. When we see the big picture, there is no losing. We need all of it.

Only one pair of hands will be the last to touch the ball. But that measure is too limited. Scoring points is fun math practice but hardly the most interesting part. Every person on that court and in the stands is vital.

The real MVP isn’t always the one who looks the part. Sometimes it’s the one who helps us think differently.

I’m not just talking about sports.

My friend Peter was one of mine.

Peter had a disease called Spinocerebellar Ataxia that began affecting him in the prime of his life. It took a lot from him — his ability to hold a job, to walk, to live on his own terms. But it didn’t take everything. He learned to use a wheelchair, then raft, and ski, and bike. (Wait — what?)

As we all do, Peter started his life hoping to be a point guard — and I’m pretty sure he had a good idea of what that would look like. But when his body changed and his health deteriorated, he had to find a new way to play the game.

He moved back to his hometown, he became a disability activist. He loved the outdoors, his kids, his friends, good food, laughter, music. It never stopped.

Peter was the kind of person who helped you remember the excitement of being alive and who invited you to revisit your expectations.

I’m thinking back to the game now. A few rows away was a Muslim woman who’d come wearing a beautiful long dress and hijab. You couldn’t miss her. She was yelling louder than anyone else in our section.

Tell me she wasn’t the MVP.

Who in your life helps you take risks? Who reminds you that you’re loved and truly safe? Those are your most valuable players.