Perhaps one of the best examples in sports of a person "leaning" toward victory came in the 1948 Olympic games in London, England. The crowd roared their approval as two men, who were favored, climbing into the starting blocks. They were Barney Ewell and Harrison Dillard. Everybody expected these two to turn this race into a fighting duel -- and that they did.

Ewell jumped out to the lead with a brisk start, knees pumping high and elbows pumping hard. But with a burst of speed on the backstretch, Dillard pulled up beside Ewell and the two raced neck and neck, stride for stride to the finish line.

Just as they approached the finish line, Ewell had the lead and it appeared that victory would be his as he hit the tape straight up, waving at the crowd with a victorious No. 1 high in the air. Little did he know, however, Harrison Dillard, in the outside lane, had leaned forward ever so slightly at the finish line and his shoulder hit the tape just before Ewell's body crossed the line. Even though more of Barney Ewell's body was across the tape, Harrison Dillard's shoulder got there first, and won the gold medal.

It's imperceptible how minute a different that type of "lean" can make on a track or on a football field or in a classroom or in a boardroom or in the factory. No matter where you are in life, the person that LEANS toward the positive will be the person that comes away with laurels.

It happened again just four years later in the 1952 Olympic games in Helsinki. Eight men flew out of the starting blocks together. They were like one as they raced down the cinder path, knees pumping high; lungs pounding and muscles tense with anticipation. They hit the tape exactly together, but Mendy Regima of New York won. They kidded him later, saying his nose was a quarter-inch longer. But the real difference was the lean toward the victory tape. In race after race, it's been shown how slight is the difference between victory and defeat.