So you are into a sport in a big way. You rise to the top, and win in all sorts of tournaments; you go on to win a medal at (Gasp!) the Olympic Games: so you reckon you’ve cracked it! You have been given a fair lump of cash to ‘train’ and ‘improve’, and you came through by winning; to completely justify your hours of, well, what exactly is it that you do? You have proved you excel at hitting a piece of cork, to which some feathers have been glued, over a net towards, and hopefully past, your opponents who will also be striving to do the same once they see the shuttlecock, which is what the feather-strewn cork is named. The game is called Badminton, and a fair few people practice for many hours at hitting this object over the net. But that is what you have wanted to do for years, you enjoy it tremendously, and you have proved that you excel beyond others in, well this sweaty and presumably exhausting activity.
Then reality strikes, as the people who previously doled out that lovely large lump of Lottery cash decided that Badminton doesn’t quite ‘ring the bell’ with ordinary members of the public, whom the cash actually came from; and turned off the money spigot.
You are bereft! You, and of course your wife, are ‘devastated’! All that cash, which supported you and your wife, has just disappeared; and of course you are doubly bereft, because your wife has just told you that she is carrying twins. What shall you do???
Well, diddums, you can always go out and get a job, like the rest of us who don’t believe that the world owes us a living. That is when you recover from realising that Badminton is after all, just another game; and not too many people are interested!