Congratulations! You’re (Not Quite) A Winner!

Contest time is always one of my least favorite times of the year, mostly because while I would very much like to win (and thus be recognized by my peers as the unbelievably talented artist that I am), I have every reason to surmise that this will be just another futile gesture on my part and the prelude to another sobering judgment that says, "You're a loser! But thanks so much for playing! Do come again!"

Recently, the results for a statewide journalism contest came back, and I was presented with a "Certificate of Achievement." Yes, on fancy faux parchment paper and an old English typeface, just like your average high school diploma. "For submitting an outstanding entry in Sports Photo," it says, and then has the title of said entry printed out below, so I'll know which photo was good – but not quite good enough. And then, in even smaller type, it says, "This entry was among the top 10% that advanced forward to the Blue Ribbon Judging. While your entry was not selected for 1^st or 2^nd place, we would like to congratulate you on being a finalist in the [Great Big Statewide Newspaper Contest]!"

So I've got that going for me.

It's this kind of ego-salving sympathy card that makes me wish I hadn't even entered in the first place. After all, it's one thing to lose, but it's quite another to have someone send you a note saying, "You missed it by this much!"

"Hey, you lost, but we didn't just chuck your photo out in the first round!"

Contest judging being amazingly arbitrary so much of the time, one wonders where a photo might have finished if the judges had decided to have Chinese for lunch instead of the pizza. Or if your photo hadn't reminded one of the judges so much of a picture he missed 25 years ago and it's been eating at him ever since.

Earlier this month, I learned that I was not a winner in a Bay Area photojournalism contest. That was painful, but at least no one sent me a certificate to tell me I didn't win.

And now there's another entry form sitting in front of me, this one for an even smaller and more obscure set of participants. It's like if you had a photo contest with other members of your family, where you were an only child and your parents were legally blind. Should I submit my photos (and nominal entry fee), just for the chance to brag that I took first place in the Sports Division of the Brown-Haired-Right-Handed-Caucasian-New-Jersey-Born-Photography-Contest-For-Men-Over-Six-Feet-With-Hazel-Eyes?

Nah. I'd probably lose at that, too.