Michael ‘Burnsie’ Burns
Columnist
Every men’s team I’ve been on over the past 40 years has had one teammate who was my least favorite (LFTM). The LFTM has personality traits, and ways of expressing them, that appear to be in stark contrast to my own personality and means of expression. These are mates that I would not choose to hang with, to pal with, to spend time with outside of team encounters.
Men’s teams are the perfect place to gain an understanding of men who are different. Engaging deeply with contrary personalities brings me face to face with hard, challenging lessons: lessons on how to accept other ways of being; and how to make the best of what these relationships bring. It’s very important for me to acknowledge behaviors I have that I don’t like – and that I prefer not to reveal. These behaviors I see in LFTMs.
We talk of men’s teams being safe places for us to disclose our true selves: the good parts along with the bad and, especially, the ugly. We can practice putting ourselves at risk of failing. We can take on responsibilities that expose sensitive parts of our lives. We can express ways of being that are uncomfortable.
Most of the feedback I’ve received in these circles has been positive: reinforcing and empowering – except when I feel attacked by my LFTM.
Standard types of feedback are things like tough love, and ruthless compassion. What comes from my LFTM, however, feels less like support and more like character assault.
I was programmed in youth to react defensively when the criticism assails my character rather than my mistakes. I still revert to this childhood mode where I respond defensively, retreat, and shutdown.
THAT IS VALUABLE! My LFTM allows me to keep observing this reaction. It reminds me that I need to work on this immaturity.
This dynamic also shows up on what I call Team WE, my marriage. I am, of course, my own favorite teammate on that team, making Patty the LFTM.1 Our differences cause frequent failures of clear communication which frustrate the hell out of me – and probably her, too.
There have been LFTMs on all the other teams I have been part of. The lessons about myself that are revealed in the mirror of my least favorite teammates have been accurate. Those lessons are less comfortable than the positive stuff, but they are far more valuable.
My LFTMs deserve all my respect. They are clear reflections of my wartiest warts, my least desirable traits, the depths I’m afraid to reveal even to myself. In learning to appreciate LFTMs I am learning – though with pain – to appreciate me.
- This is absofuckinglutley no reflection on the qualities and capabilities of her as a person, which are abundant. It’s just a reality that our personalities, habits, and life styles are very different. ↩︎
