LAST week, a correspondent wrote in relation to a previous column “Is Paddy saying he would have owned up to cheating? He’s either very noble or very naive.”
The letter itself seemed eminently fair and reasonable, but as I pondered that question, I realised I am neither noble nor naïve.  My entire sporting cheat sheet can be summed up in two words – unco-ordinated or scared.
I’m one of those people who loves playing, but isn’t always at the top of the selection list when it comes to being talented.  In fact, the word unco-ordinated might have specifically been invented for me.
That’s why it is almost impossible for me to cheat from say, a hand ball.  Despite my best (or in this case worst) intentions to remain calm, if the ball hit my arm and went into the goal, I would have an immediate physical reaction (such as pulling up and putting my hands up a la a criminal caught in the act).  
It has happened before.  An indoor soccer game in London was lost because of this unintended reflex action.  As I said above, even if I was willing myself to remain as though nothing had happened, the nervous reaction gives me away every time.
As for the scared, given my size and natural antipathy for violence against my person, the usual cheat sheet in rugby (hands in the ruck, the odd punch off the ball) is a no-go zone as I would definitely come off second best.    There is also the fear of being caught and the ensuing shame.
This might be down to a Catholic upbringing, but as most Catholics are inveterate cheats (another aspect to a Catholic upbringing which almost destroys my argument), it’s spurious and not worthy of further analysis – well, maybe psychoanalysis…
The letter last week made me think about all the times I’ve found myself in a position to cheat.  When I was a nine-stoner who wanted to play centre (and needed to be about 12 stone at least) I considered steroids – but the thought of needles and having my hair fall out and my testicles shrink scared me off.
Tennis – the number of times I’ve been able to call a ball out when in fact it’s in… that came down to a fear of being caught.  Surely they knew it was in and were testing me?  Perhaps I should have realised by the 300th call that they couldn’t actually see.
I do admit cheating at golf, but that’s only because my regular golf partner is an anal retentive on the rules who can hit the ball further than me, and as I don’t return a card after any round, I’m not hurting anyone – and the cheating is minimal (shifting a ball to a better lie, or throwing his over a nearby fence).
My whole experience at cheating in sport comes down to not only a lack of talent and fear of physical reprisals.
I have the irrational theory that no matter where I am or what I am doing, that someone (no, not God) can see me, and that someone is going to tell on me.  I also believe women can read my mind, but that’s another whole mental illogic I don’t want to explore here.  
When it comes to thinking about cheating in sport, the main reason I can’t do it is the fear of discovery.  
Clearly, I have a seriously weird mindset.  But at least I can sleep easy at night.