One of my favorite things about sports is also one of the cruelest things about sports.

Not everyone goes home a winner.

In order for there to be joy, there has to be anguish. In order for an athlete to be thrilled by his or her sense of accomplishment, another athlete has to feel devastated. It is the natural order of competition, and it is also, in many respects, a metaphor for what drives us as a country.

You see it play out every year at the Olympic trials in every sport. For four years, American swimmer Brendan Hansen was the best 200-meter breaststroker in the world. But on Thursday night, for whatever reason, he swam like he was wearing lead flippers, finishing fourth in the final. He'll still swim at the Olympics in the 100-meter breaststroke, but he'll watch his best event on television or from a spot in the stands.

Hansen doesn't find this twist of fate unfair. He won't be lobbying the U.S. Olympic team to make an exception for him based on past performance, and he won't hire a lawyer to file an injunction. He said he'll simply do all that he can to help the two American men who will swim the event in Beijing -- Scott Spann and Eric Shanteau -- win gold.

One of the hard truths most sane people figure out about life is that not everyone deserves to be an all-star. Not everyone should get into Harvard or win a Pulitzer. Cutthroat competition is a good thing, which is why it's so absurd that more and more Little Leagues are eliminating all-star games (like the community of Beachwood, Ohio did recently) or deciding not to keep score, hoping to avoid bruised egos or crazed parents. 

No one can stand the lunatic t-ball manager who coaches a group of 6-year-olds the way Gen. Patton strategized against the Germans, especially me, but on the other side of the coin, there are also important lessons to be taught in winning and losing.

Contrary to the way certain youth leagues are trending these days, not everyone deserves a trophy, and not everyone deserves equal playing time. No one's life is going to be ruined if they're left off an all-county or an all-Metro team. In fact, it might just make them that much more determined to succeed in life and prove the rest of the world wrong.

At every newspaper I've ever worked for, we've gotten calls and emails from angry parents demanding to know why we don't cover junior varsity sports. Or Little League games. "They work just as hard as everyone else," these complaints often mention. "Why can't you mention their names?"

Because, I usually answer, what they are doing is not news. It is, without question, valuable and important and an essential part of the grand experiment we call "community" but that doesn't necessarily mean it's news.

Olympic swimmer Matt Biondi, who won 11 medals during his career -- but is now a math teacher, a coach and a dad -- said something yesterday at the trials that really made sense to me when I think about sports, especially as it relates to kids.

"So many adults want their kids to feel good, so they send them places or buy them things," Biondi said. "They prop them up with value judgments like 'You're such a good boy' or 'You're such a pretty girl.' I realized very early on what kids really want is what's most valuable to you, and that's your time."

Some of the most important moments in my life came when I failed to make a team or earn a scholarship and people didn't make excuses for me. I still remember the score of the football state championship game that I played in and lost: 39-13. I wish I had played better, but I know that failure inspired me to become a better person.

Struggling can be a good thing. Disappointment can be devastating, whether it comes at a young age or if it comes, like Hansen, after four years of swimming laps at 6 a.m. with the goal of making the Olympic team.

The way you deal with it, both in athletic competition and in life, is how we define character.

Hansen photo: AP