The Best loser's prize

Abstract

I was watching the end of the Comrades Marathon on the television the other day. It was cut off time and that man of stone was standing there at the finish line with his back to the runners, when around the corner into the arena staggered the last runner. He was a clapped-out apparition that never quite got there despite the screams of the crowd. I often replay this scene in a daydream or more precisely, a nightmare. Perhaps it would be better if the official actually loaded up with live ammunition and just walked up to the prostrate twitching body and said "Sorry, mate, you failed," and finished him off. They say that nothing hurts when you win. Well, this way it wouldn't, if you failed either!