The art of competition traditionally begins as a child, with a game of show and tell.
Innocent at first glance, all for the sake of stifling the curriculum monotony in order to squeeze in a few priceless smiles that’ll surely vacate the premises when the week-end quiz is handed out.
On a grander scale, this is where the knob of impression starts to turn.
The popular kids go up to the front of the class and they show off their items of value that some of us have only ever dreamed of having in our possession.
Maybe it’s a precious heirloom, handed down from one prestigious generation to the next, or a treasured artifact discovered while on some expedition that’s clearly limited to the gifted.
You watch the teacher melt into their palms, you hear the deafening applause, and then there’s a silence when your name is called. You’re forced to follow up, and the future immediately plays out in your mind before it even happens.
They’re laughing under their breath but to you, it’s as loud as a freight train. Their eyes stray away to something more interesting and by the time oxygen reenters your lungs, you’re back at your desk – wearing your best face, but screaming on the inside.
And as the knob continues to turn, a wave of emotions rushes in.
Envy.
Resentment.
Vengeance.
We weren’t the best in show, and this evolved into the halls of Old School Wrestling.
We didn’t have the look, or sparkling stardust covering every inch of our bodies.
They were scared of us – and out of that fear, they couldn’t read us.
They couldn’t see that we desired greatness just like them, but found it unattainable.
We were told to respect the pecking order – watch those with their names under the lights show off the glory and tell stories about it while we kept our mouths shut.
But alas, we became restless.
We grew tired of seeing the art of competition drawn up in a dimension that didn’t include us – exhausted by the division of those that have it and those that don’t.
From that, we promised ourselves that when our name was called again, when it was our turn to stand in front of the class, we would turn the knob the opposite way until they recognized us just like they’ve recognized the rest.
And if they still refused, well…
I suppose we’ve walked down that road a few times now, haven’t we? But thanks to their sticktoitiveness, I’ve not only managed to influence people to pay attention to those that they would have otherwise disregarded – I’ve also collected many of my own priceless artifacts to show off as well.
The types of trinkets and novelties that truly come to life!
And as long as we keep our knuckles against the grindstone – through blood, sweat, and a little more blood – we’ll be well on our way towards collecting something even more prestigious to show off to the world.
Maybe a round of applause – oh boy!
Maybe a standing ovation – oh boy, oh boy!
But – most importantly?
The one thing that gives you the witless licence to believe that you’re better than me..
Your… championship… title.