Winning

Did I ever tell you the only time I ever voluntarily entered a foot-race - as opposed to the times at school when you were coerced into doing all sorts of unwanted activities? I have? That's all right, you will survive hearing it once again.
This unnatural activity happened during my brief stint at SPIC, when I was masquerading as a chemical engineer trainee. When they announced that all trainees who participated in any event on their sports day would get the day off, it was a no-brainer that I would participate. It was equally as much a no-brainer for me to put in ONLY for the 100 meter race, as being the most cost-effective way of getting that holiday. Who wanted to exert himself any more than the minimum required?
Considering that my normal means of locomotion resembles a duck's waddle and also considering that it was NOT a race with ducks, it was but to be expected that I trailed the entire lot of runners home in the very first heat. Unfazed by the derisive laughs of the spectators, I loudly proclaimed, "I was the man behind the victors." THAT, of course, was the closest I ever got to winning.
I have always found that winning is very much over-rated. People tend to think that winning will make them happy, little realizing all that their winning does is to place them on the treadmill where they will need to keep running just to stay in the same place. Imagine the school kid who stands first in his class. Do you think he can then relax and take life easy? If he does and drops down one place, there will always be a sympathetic friend who will come and say,"You must have been sick on the day of the exam. Obviously, you are more intelligent than that guy." There will be a derisive chap who will comment,"I knew it was a fluke that he came first last time. Must be some error in the correction." His parents, of course, would jump on him with "Just because you came first once does not mean that you can slack off" forgetting that the second place he got this time was probably far better than his performances before he was unlucky enough to come first. After all this, our innocent friend will not only have to study all the harder but will need to keep an anxious eye out behind him to see if anyone was close to over-taking him. Such are the fruits of winning.
Staying short of  'winning' keeps you comfortably off the limelight. If you skid and take a purler, no-one is looking your way to laugh at your antics. If you move up a step, of course, there is hardly anyone to notice, except maybe someone close to you who will raise a disbelieving eyebrow. You can expect to be chugging along happily without anyone egging you on ('Come on, Suresh! Come on') or eagerly expecting to be there when you fail.
There, then, in a nutshell is my attitude to winning. I expect to enjoy myself doing whatever I am doing and I find that nothing drains away the joy faster than when someone tags you a winner and, then, the world sits around waiting to see you lose. A winner has to keep running all the time at full speed to remain one; an also-ran only has to participate to retain his tag as an also-ran - unless he has the misfortune to win!
Sour grapes, you say? Well, these grapes ARE sour! So there!