A few years ago I read an article in a Scottish newspaper about the death of a man who had been an international Rugby player. Since he retired from football he’d led a busy life, doing all kinds of things – and very successfully too. Yet when he died, his obituary in the paper was almost all about one event: the fact that 50 years earlier he had acted honestly and generously in a game of football.
His first full international, against France, in Paris on January 1 1947, provoked a notable incident: Geddes, in competition with the French wing, pursued a loose ball over his own line and was awarded the touchdown by the referee. However Geddes told the official the Frenchman had been first, with the result that a try was awarded to France who went on to win 8–3. This sportsmanship made such an impression on the French players that they clubbed together to buy Geddes a cigarette case as a token of their appreciation.
I was very moved by this. It seemed remarkable to me that at the end of his life, the one thing people remembered about him, the event that made the greatest impression, was the fact that he showed integrity. There was no mention in the article of the great tries Geddes scored, the awards he won, the money he made, or even his career after football.
No, the one thing people concentrated on was that under enormous pressure he was honest in a game of Rugby.
Perhaps this is the way that you would like to be remembered. As a decent, honest person, a man of integrity. A man of whom it can be said:
‘You can trust him.’
‘He won’t let you down.’
‘There’s no bullshit about him.’
‘He’s always got a good word for everyone.’
‘Ask him; he won’t stuff you around.’
‘If he tells you he’ll do something, it’ll be done.’
These are fine words to be said of anyone. If you hear people speak of you in these terms then there’s a pretty fair chance that you’re on the way to becoming an adult.
A man.