Pursuing a career, how to choose your beasts

One of the most common things to ponder about is whether or not you have chosen the correct career. As mentioned in "Battling the Beast", there are some things that do not go according to plan. I've had a fair share of dangling carrots - and I have made a fair share of suggestions on where the carrot should actually go. So lately I have been pondering my choice of beast battling. I am highly skilled in battling the beast, and sometimes I even follow Mr. Miyagi's advice in that the best way to win is to not fight!

So to determine if I made the correct choice, I decided to take an approach usually followed by those clever scientists. As I explained to my honeybun, sometimes the best way to proof something is to proof the contrary.

Let me explain the reason why I am not a sport star. As a young lad our schooling system placed a lot of emphasis on sport. Especially a little game called Rugby. Now the school I attended thought that this is the most important thing in the world, and we HAD to do this sport. So I had a choice: participate or be victimized. I made the wrong decision.

So being this super fit being with the ultimate physique, I was selected for the last team. The team made up of all the people they can gather on a Friday afternoon to play a match the weekend. And being so well build for speed, I was in the perfect shape to play what they call a prop. If you ever watch a game of rugby, notice the guy with the 1 on his back. The biggest guy on the field doing the dirty work. My natural position, one I played with great success for years.

Our coach had the day-time job of history teacher. It became clear why he did not teach mathematics, as for this one match we ended up with 3 props. If you know rugby, you might make the link that there can only be 2 in a team. And then he showed is brilliance. I was struck with awe as he said to me: "Since the team is not that strong, you must play on the wing - the ball will never reach you". Amazement. Now imagine this, the biggest, slowest and strongest (supposedly) guy on the field, playing the position created for the fasted, leanest, most swift-footed person you can find.

So there I was drifting at the edges of the action. I had a lovely day and enjoyed watching the game I was actually playing. And then I was my time! My time to shine! We attacked the goal line and the ball was coming down the back line. I knew that it was glory time! There was an open line, and about 10 meters to go. I was open, no more defenders; I had to trot over the goal line for victory! Then the ball was passed to me. This was it! "WHOOP!". My studs and my boot laces got entangled. Somehow your legs do not work that well if they are tied together at the feet. It was a nice cloud of dust. I rolled, people laughed and I ended up 2 meters from the foal line, flat on my face. Tied up by the feet, like when a cowboy rope cattle. And after all this humiliation, the referee blew a penalty against me for diving onto the ball.

I realized there and then, my contribution to the world would be mentally and hence the desk job!