What happened to friendly competition?

I wonder if in today's society, people can understand the importance of friendly competition, and how to separate those two toxic chemicals.

I sat back on my sofa Sunday night recalling what had happened to me just a few hours before, and wondered if we should all just take the time to learn how to carry ourselves in certain situations. We should especially do this when the task at hand involves a friendly game of softball.

It was then that I recalled days gone by when the NBA chronicled the lives and times of Isaiah Thomas and Earvin "Magic" Johnson.

Year after year, these legends battled on numerous occasions, with more than just a game on the line.

They played for money and they played for a trophy.

We were playing to work off the fat gained from eating too many burgers at our team barbecue earlier that day.

Despite the stakes, Thomas and Johnson embraced at midcourt and exchanged a kiss on the cheek before each and every meeting. During the game, they let their athletic talent do the talking. Their mouths never opened, no words of disrespect were ever heard.

They were gentleman on and off the court.

Neither one provoked the other or his teammates. And after the game, they had dinner together.

That sounds like a hell of a way to compete.

I spent Sunday evening out in the cool, calming night air with a group of friends. The stars were in the sky, and the moon glowed like the faces of the parents of a newborn baby.

The object of the outing was to enjoy each others' company while playing a game.

Keep in mind the words "playing" and "game."

Across the field from me sat a collection of very familiar faces, friendly faces that I came across in my everyday life. My Isaiah's and Magic's.

And one man on a mission, destined to follow his own motivations.

I greeted him with a grin and a friendly question, hoping to lighten the mood of the night's contest.

I wasn't greeted with a hello. No hand gesture of recognition. No acknowledgment that I had been seen.

Not even a raise of the eyebrows.

I heard a grunt, but I doubt I was fortunate enough to be the recipient of that cordial address.

The situation continued. The heckling got worse and the animosity increased.

For the record, my team went down in defeat in extra innings to my foe's obvious delight.

But as our team name states, "We Almost Care."

So I closed my eyes and made a wish. For good will among men, world peace and a buddy like Isaiah Thomas or Magic Johnson.

From my experiences Sunday night, I fear now that only two of those three wishes will someday soon come true.

Scott Bricker covers golf for the Wildcat. He believes that someday, Tiger Woods and the swoosh will be worldwide symbols of excellence.