Johnny liked to play. He was a baseball star in high school, and he had big, big dreams of playing for his State, or even the country.
Big, big dreams are risky. Better perhaps to have smaller aims and avoid disappointment. Johnny wasn’t familiar with being let down. He was used to winning. And he liked to play.
When the scouts came he knew he was ready. He played so well everyone agreed. They’d come running for him. It was guaranteed.
Guarantees don’t always deliver. No scouts came with offers, only polite rejection. Johnny was good, they said. He was passionate and disciplined and played well. But just not quite well enough. Competition is tough, they told him, the higher you climb the ladder. You have to be ready to accept your rung. Nothing personal of course.
Johnny wasn’t having any of that. He could teach them a thing or too about their preferences and biases. He knew he was great, and if they thought they could stand in his way they had another think coming.
So he took his baseball bat to them and schooled them. Schooled them hard, so hard they didn’t get up again, ever. They’ climbed as far as they would ever climb on their ladders, and they needed to know their place.
Nothing personal of course.
(c) Helen M Valentina 2019