“And Granddad, what’s this medal for?”

“Well, uh, that was for the Champions League final, which we won on penalties.”

“Wow! It’s beautiful. Tell me about the game.”

The old man paused. “It was, um, a good game. Yes, a good game. Don’t you want to see any of the other medals?”

“Tell me about it, Granddad. Did you play well?”

“I told you. It was a good game.”

“But it went to penalties. So… did you score the equaliser? You did, didn’t you? You scored the equaliser in the last minute of extra time to give your team another chance?”

“Uh… it wasn’t exactly like that.”

“I know! You scored the winning penalty! You’re such a hero”

“I said… it wasn’t exactly like that!”. The old man got up and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

The boy started to cry. His mother comforted him. “There, there. It’s a touchy subject for him. He doesn’t like to talk about that one. Although it’s in his medals case…” She paused, looking to make sure that her father in law had actually gone, then continued in a whisper, “… he didn’t really earn that one.”

“I don’t want to see Granddad any more,” sniffed the boy.