Sometimes the cheat prospers and life goes on
Louis C.K., the comedian, explained on the David Letterman show recently that he was in two minds about what to tell his kids when it came to lying.
It's such an amazing life skill to be able to lie at convenient times, he argued, that he didn't want them not to develop the skill. He wants his kids to be able to lie when they needed to.
It was the second part of a chat about the New England Patriots - he grew up in Boston - "I mean it's football. Of course they're cheating."
Maybe because he's a Pats fan, or maybe he was setting up the kids lying punchline, but he was relatively serious. "It's football. Of course they're cheating."
You're probably choking on your own self-righteousness reading this. You might be right. Then again . . .
Watching Neil Back's hand of God moment now with the distance of a decade and safe in the knowledge that Munster have two Heineken Cups, it's shorn of disgrace. Instead it's just the act of an exhausted, desperate protagonist trying something.
He should have been caught and cost his team by being binned. When Wayne Rooney dived to win the penalty ten days ago, it was only marginally more theatrical than Duffer's beautiful dive against Spain in 2002.
Sometimes we argue, justly, that sport should set higher standards and exist beyond our everyday reality. Sometimes you realise it's just a reflection of who we are, not who we want to be. Nothing more and nothing less. And that's beautiful too.