When I was 8, I lost a winning game at a chess tournament.It was an 11 hours drive to get there, and I blundered and lost a winning position.I told my father it was because I was tired and couldn’t sleep in the car.I came third in the tournament but should have come first.Dad was furious.I remember feeling like crying as he lectured me.“Who taught you to make excuses boy? It wasn’t me. Isn’t your last name Tate?What does the paper say?Lost cause he was tired? Or LOST?”I. . .

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