There is always at least one
In every group who runs the gamut,
Must be better than the rest,
Must be proved to be the best.
Surely, nothing could be wrong with
A bit of healthy competition.
Run the race with pumped profusion,
Guts and guile and vile collusion.
Weep not for the also-rans
Who could not seem to measure up.
Let them muddle in defeat
And grovel at the victor’s feet.
No one strives for second- best
Or settles to be in the pack.
All who enter long to see
And hear the praise of victory.
In the end, the final truth,
The final measure of success
Is not who plays to win the game,
But he who gives his very best.
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