This is a story with a moral. It comes from an event that I try to remember when something in my life is coming to an end.

It happened during our annual inter-school visit with Aberdeen High. We used to do the billet thing, the disco thing, and most importantly the sporting thing.  Although there was vicious competition between us, it was usually pretty even between the two schools.
Our only major weakness was basketball.

In my final year at school it was Aberdeen’s turn to visit Armidale. We were on home turf so that would normally give us the advantage, but this year it was really neck and neck. On the last day of competition the whole visit came down to the open men’s basketball match.

I’m not sure whether it was because everyone wanted to check out the new gym, or the fact that it was freezing outside, but the stadium was absolutely packed. The atmosphere was electric.

Our team mainly consisted of footballers. I was the only one who could claim dual citizenship between the sports, so was dubbed captain. I think I competed for the jump ball, but I’m not sure. I do know I scored the first points of the game. I stayed down there for the throw in, intercepted the ball and put it through the hoop. That was pretty much how the rest of the game went.

Just as an aside, please note that such sporting prowess was not a normal occurrence for me. Whether the cheers spurred me on, whether it was school spirit or the fact that Heidi, a girl I fancied was in the crowd, I’m not sure. Whatever it was, I was playing freakishly well. I became a man possessed. It was as if I was having an out of body experience. Like a scene from ‘Being John Malkovich’, except I was being Michael Jordan. I just sat there and enjoyed the ride while Michael did the work.

Half time came and went. I know we were up, though I don’t remember the score. I hadn’t been rested but was feeling okay.  Then I got a foul. The coach yelled from the sideline. “That’s four fouls mate.” I knew very well that if the fifth came it meant I’d be sent off.

But then I did something. It was something that has stuck with me my whole life. It was something weak, something stupid, and something lazy. I’ve often thought about why I did it but I just don’t know the answer. It was just so small and silly. What happened was, this Aberdeen guy was dribbling the ball across the half way line, nowhere near their basket, and I just, lazily as you like, stuck my arm out and fouled him. So I was fouled out, off the court.

I caught my breath and I had a look at the score. We were 22 they were 12. I checked my points. It equaled the entire score of Aberdeen. Satisfied that I'd contributed enough to see us win the whole competition, I sat down to enjoy the last five minutes.

Those last five minutes didn't go exactly as I'd expected. I watched as Aberdeen started scoring. They scored again. And again. There was nothing I could do. Our team fell apart. In five minutes Aberdeen doubled our teams score. We hadn't scored 1 point and so that meant with 10 seconds to go the game was tied at 22-22. Then we fouled them. They went to the line for a free throw. The hooter went off to finish the game. The Aberdeen bastard needed to get 1 of his 2 shots in.

And, of course, he got his second shot in. With the home ground advantage, in our brand new gymnasium, in front of the whole school, I'd lost us the entire five-day inter-school visit with that stupid, lazy action.

Why? I asked myself that question over and over. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not just that basketball match I’m talking about, I’m talking about my whole life. It’s a personal trait I’ve spotted in every thing from work, to relationships, to money to.... I don’t know, not bothering to spell-check my stories. I seem to work hard and fast and concentrate on the job at hand. Then just before I am completely satisfied, I’ll give up. Am I scared of success, or just lazy?

Well that’s that. I’m tempted to leave the story there. I’m nearly finished. That’ll do.

No. I will get to the point.

The point is I try to remember the story every time I decide to give up. If I think about it I tend to give it that one last-ditch effort and follow things right through to the end. It really is the difference between winning and losing. That’s the theory anyway.

Should I do a 2nd draft on this piece? Nah, that’ll do.