An Article by Katlyn Kahler
I want to start this letter by saying thank-you. Thank-you for not picking me. You did a lot more for me than just assign me a ribbon in that simple gesture. I know you may or may not have gotten the stink eye as I was leaving the ring or heard grumbles from some of my family or friends at the end of the show, but I promise I am sincere in this thank-you.
You taught me that perfection does not exist. Showing livestock is playing one big preferential game, and that day I was not what you preferred. My stock would not fit in your operation or would not make you profitable. You taught me that every producer is different, every operation is different, and every “ideal” animal is different for those various producers and operations. You made me a more knowledgeable stockman. Thank-you for educating me on the wide scope of the livestock industry and for teaching me there is more than just one type of “ideal”.
You taught me to be humble. I will not always win even if I seem to do everything perfectly. I can spend big money at a sale, walk my stock every day, feed high dollar feed, fit and wash for hours, and there will still be someone out there putting even more effort into their stock than I am. I am not the best. I will never be the best. Even the “best” is not the best at everything. That doesn’t mean I should quit. That doesn’t mean I’m doing everything wrong. What it does mean is that I need to continue to take constructive criticism and work harder than I was before. Thank-you for knocking me off my high horse.
You taught me how to lose. Some days we get beat and that’s applicable to the real world too. Even if we eat, sleep, and breath show stock, that does not guarantee a champion banner. Our performance in the ring doesn’t reflect our integrity, our performance outside the ring does. No matter how bitter I am, I need to shake your hand. I need to shake the winner’s hand. I may be disappointed, but I should not let that disappointment cause a bad mark on my character. Thank-you for reminding me that there’s always next year.
I respect you and your decision. I may not agree with it, but I do respect it and understand it. I know I learned more from the hundreds of times I didn’t win than the few times I did. I owe part of that to you and the other part to the dozens of other judges who also did not pick me. It may just have seemed like one man’s opinion one day, but it left a lasting impression on my character and knowledge of the livestock industry. Thank-you again for not picking me.
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