You sit down and take a closer look at the trophy. Your surname has been spelled incorrectly and the little plastic batsman is playing a shot that would only be possible for a triple jointed human. But no matter, you’re still chuffed.
The awards dinner finishes and you all decide to move on to a pub for a few more drinks, so you pick up your trophy from the table and accidently break the little plastic bat off. Hmmm, no matter…"I’ll just pop the bat in my pocket and glue it back on at a later date"………..but you never do. Infact one year down the line and that little plastic trophy sits at the back of a cupboard next to other trophies and medals gathered throughout the years.
Years go by, and then one day when you remember where the linseed oil is, you open the cupboard door, and there they are clumped up together, reminding you that you "used" to be good. You pick one up, read the misspelled name and notice the bat and stumps are missing, sigh and then smile because although you would never admit it, you’re still chuffed.