Once upon a time (1938 to be precise) there was a pistol shooter. He was incredibly good. Hoped to be the very best, in fact.
Unfortunately, our Hero has his right hand blown off by a faulty grenade during combat training. (Gah.) That was his shooting hand. (Double gah.) All hopes are lost.
Or are they?
After a depressing month in the hospital, our Hero decides that he will simply learn how to shoot just as well with his left hand. He starts secretly training.
He trains and trains and trains. He’s now very good. He shows up at the 1939 World Championships. Everyone’s shocked to see him there. They’re even more shocked when he wins.
His Olympic dreams are back on track.
Enter: World War II. The 1940 and 1944 Olympics are canceled.
He shows up at the next Olympics. He’s now 38.
The world champion asks him what he’s doing there. Our Hero tells him he’s there to learn.
His name is Karoly Takacs.
The moral of the story?
(Any targets you need to re-aim at?)