I bet he never watched cross-country. If he did, he would have noticed that whereas Chris, who was the sharpest chap around, always panted in last, the man who couldn’t define an atom always roared into the school gate a mile ahead of his nearest rival. And you know the hilarious thing? The school reserved the loudest cheer for that struggler, Chris — running beside him, urging him on!
That has always fascinated me. At the Olympics, as soon as the Kenyans and Ethiopians have raised adrenalin in the stadium in their characteristic effortless sprint to the finish, everyone sits back and waits for some poor runner from a God forsaken country to pant half dead to the finish line.
He may have been lapped six times by Kenyans, but remember that in whichever country he hails from, he is a celeb. Poems are composed in his honour and women become weak in his presence.
Unfortunately, at the Olympics, he comes last — by a mile — yet the world erupts in cheer for his bravery, fortitude and fighting spirit.
Why then don’t we cheer the lad who scores 13 per cent in Chemistry?
Lest you forget, he fights harder to make that meager score, unlike the genius who breezes through the exam and hammers 89 per cent without breaking a sweat — like David Rudisha.