Beware any chap that goes to slap him on the back after a sporting event having finished fourth (yet again!), for he will not accept your spirited 'Well Done!' in the manner it's intended or given. He'll be sore, his pride hurting more than his spent muscles since his best has only netted him fourth and retained his long-running record. It wasn't even a PB! And if a usually fifth-placed man has jumped him to get third, then steer clear of him altogether.
Fourth is not what you train for. In any circumstance.
To consistently rate as fourth and to have others, regardless of age or build, overtake you implies there's something lacking. This particular fourth man, though not American by citizenship or birth, thought of it as pep; a term he for some reason classified as American slang, and considered himself somewhat deficient in. He had just enough to get him to a certain place, but not enough to get him beyond that.
There was, to his knowledge, no pill or powder for it. At least not one that was safe and would give him the results he wanted in every situation.
Cognitive Behavioural Therapy? No, as although he knew a barrier existed, he didn't think it was entirely of his own making. For it wasn't just how he saw himself but how others also saw him.
Fourth said reliable. A back-up for occasions when second or third pulled out or failed to show. A reserve for the reserve. A good man. A very nice man. A decent chap. Always there when you need him. And then, afterwards forgotten about. Duty done. Fourth (obviously) meant never being first in line when there was a fantastic piece of luck to be had or an amazing opportunity was up for grabs. In instances such as those a fourth-placed man would never occur to the person in charge, unless, of course, whatever it was wasn't so fantastic or amazing that others offered it refused. Point-blank.
'Soppy seconds? Try soppy fourths sometime pal!' This, the fourth man sometimes exclaimed when he'd mixed his drinks to whomever was serving or standing next to him at the bar, when the feeling of fourth closed in on him or when, yet again, he'd felt sidelined, or been made to feel particularly dull, of the same ilk as an accountant or bank manager, because although he knew inside he wasn't he supposed his demeanour portrayed otherwise, and that made him glum. Morose indeed, for this wasn't at all how he thought life would be.
Yet, the fourth man was careful. Steady. Although he'd never set out to be this diligent or over-careful. He just was, from a boy in shorts to a man in long trousers.
As a boy, he'd coloured inside the lines with his tongue poking his right cheek; he'd saved pennies in an old biscuit tin and counted them on Sundays; and he'd returned his grandfather's tools to the shed where they belonged and not left them lying about to rust. As a man, he assessed the competition before enlisting as a competitor and never put a foot forward (or a foot wrong) unless he was sure a risk was worthwhile taking. And yet, despite all his careful planning, he never ranked higher than fourth – especially not with anything he wanted – as if, he thought, a pact had been made with the Heavens, so that any say he now wanted to have was useless. And God knows, he'd tried! Sometimes with a drink in his hand which sloshed as he raved at the sky: why, why, why?
No man ever imagines how mentally and physically torturous it can be to be steadfast. Because that dependable quality won't be shaken off, not even if you really wanted to, for once, act irresponsibly. The fourth man has never been able to follow these impulses through, since he knows everything you do affects others. This conscientiousness tethers him to doing what's right; makes him 'a sap' as he likes to put it. And he's convinced himself that behind his back there are countless others who'd agree...
Picture credit: White Angel Breadline, San Francisco, c1933, Dorothea Lange
