Chicago ? Most of us have been lucky enough that our foolish decisions in life passed by like whispers, never to be heard from again. Most of us have been lucky enough that those foolish decisions never saw the light of day, let alone the light of a TV camera.

Imagine how that might feel though. Imagine those moments playing out nationally, loud and in color. Now you’re getting a sense of how it has been for Neal Taylor, the disgraced record-book manipulator.

“There are 3,600 seconds in an hour times 24 hours times 365 days times 39 years,” he said Thursday. “Only eight seconds of my life have been worth anything to anybody. The rest of my life doesn’t count except for the eight seconds.”

It was a month ago that the high school coach made the ill-fated decision to help his quarterback, Southeast Springfield’s Nate Haasis, set the Central State Eight Conference record for most career passing yards. A deal was made between Taylor and Cahokia coach Antwyne Golliday near the end of the Oct. 25 game: Southeast would allow Cahokia to score a touchdown, and in turn, Cahokia would allow Haasis to throw an uncontested pass for the record.

The pass play went 37 yards, giving him a record 5,006 career yards. The entire episode lasted those eight historic, poisonous seconds.

Haasis later found out about the deal and did the noble thing: He asked conference officials to erase his record. They did.

The controversy reminded us that the only things worth striving for are those that come through honest, hard work. It was a classic tale, the teenager teaching the adult the meaning of integrity.

But it couldn’t stop there, not in a culture that demands a mallet to the head when a slap on the wrist would suffice. The higher Haasis rose as a hero, the further Taylor fell on the way to becoming the devil himself.

It ended Monday with Taylor resigning as Southeast coach because, he said, he didn’t receive support from the school administration. It was a crying shame.

Taylor said he has “been through hell,” and if you want to tell him that at least he’s not in Iraq, go ahead. But hell feels hot no matter how you get there.

His heart had been in the right place, but his head made a very dumb decision to rendezvous at the same place. It was a coach looking out for his player. It was the perfect example of the best intentions going terribly wrong.

Coast-to-coast coverage and condemnation would seem to have been enough punishment. But it wasn’t enough.

The lesson of second chances was not taught to a whole bunch of kids in Springfield. A learning experience for everyone was lost.

“The first four days (of the controversy), I didn’t sleep, I didn’t eat,” Taylor said.

Wouldn’t it have been interesting if the school board had refused his resignation? Wouldn’t that have been a nice reminder that forgiveness is still alive?

A little comparison shopping, scandal seekers: Former NFL quarterback Chris Miller, who owns a company that deals in creatine-based products, has acknowledged selling the controversial supplement to up to 18 of his players at South Eugene High School in Oregon.

Which action is the greater evil? The one that potentially pollutes the body or the one that taints a record book? Surely the answer is crystal clear.

“I’m not a bad guy,” Taylor said.

Boy, that’s not the way we hear it.