The Better Victory

It’s a Sunday evening, our small family of three is watching the super cup final between Barcelona and Real Madrid. I notice a foul and I call it.

“That’s a hand ball.” I say.

“Are you sure?” SonTer asks.

“Common son, you saw it, stop being partial.”

He grins and then he says; “Just like the referee at my birthday soccer match.”

I remember that day very well. It was  a year and a half ago. SonTer’s Eleventh birthday. He had chosen to celebrate with a friendly match with his close friends and classmates. The man who had been selected to officiate the match had been a real piece of work.

He had been hell bent on giving the side SonTer was playing on a win. He had at one point whispered into SonTer’s ear; “If someone touches you, even just a little bit, fall to the ground so that I can give you a penalty kick.”

What stayed with me wasn’t the unfair calls or even the undeserved win… it was the whisper. The quiet permission to fall. The idea that pretending could replace effort and advantage could replace integrity.

I realised how early these moments shape us. Children may forget scores, but they remember what authority teaches them, whether fairness matters or truth is optional.
An easy win feels good for a moment, but it teaches nothing about character.

I am glad because SonTer never did fake a fall, and as he remembered it today, he expressed his surprise at how open the referee had been about cheating.

That moment reminded me that children don’t just learn from what we allow, they learn from what we refuse to model. Integrity is often taught quietly, in small decisions that don’t earn applause or advantage.

The lesson is simple: how we win matters more than the fact that we win.
The take-home: choose honesty, even when shortcuts are offered, because character is built long before it is tested.
Those early choices stay with us, even after the game is over.