So Leigh Matthews thinks all competitors have a black hole inside of them which can only be filled with winning.

Or something like that.

He was harping on about Wyatt Earp and Michael Voss and black holes and I admit I started to tune out a little.

But from what I can gather, he thinks that Vossy is right to go straight into coaching the Blues because he has that competitor’s instinct.

If that’s true and the big man does have a hole inside of him which can only be filled by winning, then I am not sure that coaching the beleaguered Blues is the answer, but hey – I guess beggars can’t be choosers.

Leigh also reckons that Sheedy will be rearing to continue in some sort of coaching role because of his big black hole.

Maybe it’s not the best analogy, but since when have sports stars ever been known for their vocabulary?

But I think I get what he means.

Once a competitor, always a competitor, and to take the player away from the sport is to take some of the fire out of the player.

I guess it’s the reason Wayne Bennett has held on for so long, what continually puts Mick Malthouse on the brink of a heart attack and why so many former players desperately accept any role which will keep them somewhere near the vicinity of the sporting spotlight.

But what about us plebs?

Have we just accepted that black hole?

I mean, most of us have played some form of sport at some point of our lives and most people I know claim to have been quite good.

And then injury, life, reality checks, what ever you want to call it, steps in and that competitive edge is left to play out on the roads, supermarket aisles or the Myer stocktake sale.

For that reason alone, I have to admire our intrepid sports editor for getting back out there and having a go.

Because while staying fit is healthy, leads to a longer life, yadda, yadda, yadda, there is nothing like setting yourself a goal and then being let lose on a pack of similarly minded competitors.

I discovered I missed this while I was attempting to race a 60-year-old woman on the cross-trainer at the gym.

Where I used to run up and down a field heading for a goal post and ultimately victory, I now spend hours cycling to nowhere, running to nowhere and walking up endless steps without actually getting anywhere – all from the comfort of my air-conditioned gym.

And while my thighs appreciate it, I’m not sure my competitive spirit is quite so grateful.

I mean there are only so many times you can pretend to race someone on a stationary bike before even your imagination begins to think you are lame.

But then again, if you are the one setting the rules, then you are also the one guaranteed victory, which for the laziest of us, should be enough to fill that black hole until the motivation to get back out there hits.