Somebody has got to lose.

Somebody has got to lose.

The Journeyman,

Intro.



With a sense of routine he walks to the arena, at times a lone, often with some well wishers that either do believe in him, or merely support him through friendship. No crowds of auto graph hunters for him, or gushing round card girls as he passes them by. He is the opponent, the journeyman, the sacrificial body there to pad the record of a 'name', he is the long shot.

He is often on the bad end of the high light clip, the battered face in the back ground during the interview, the familiar yet obscure name that gets around but is forgotten all to soon, he is the sparring partner, the late minute replacement he is the man that gives the combat sports the beating heart.

Some times they have their day and win the upset, earning a money shot or the almost elusive win to look back to years hence, but on monday they are home, sore, battered and bruised they go to work, they pay the mortgage they slip back into the mundance, only a few know who they are or what they do, those within the game offer some respect or disregard them as they would a pair of gloves, a neccessity, but always replaceable.

Champions, Challengers and Contenders are remembered, but who looks up to the journeyman ? Who puts their poster up on the wall or defends them at the bar on fight night? They are the beating, pulsing, thumping reality of the sport, the ones that the Greats sharpen their teeth on, the ones that bleed to feed hall of famers, the ones that go down to lift up heroes, the ones that go home alone while legends go into history.

They start with a dream, a fertile ambition so bright and brilliant it burns deep within them, fuels their hard work and effort, then some where along the way, life happens and they fall short...they fail. Loss after loss, failure after failure, disappointment follows disappointment, but still they are back into the gym, still they enter the arena, still they forget pride or arrogance and take what they are offered so that they can live the sport. They slip into the spotlight, though briefly before a small club room or an international stage and they stand up with courage, self belief but no illusions, and they fight...and all to often they lose. They pocket often less than the catering staff, or round card girls, rarely do they do it for money, but they take what they can get.

The commentator, the ringside expert, the informed fan know of them, they watch and wait, what round will it come ? Will they stretch it out a bit longer, or will it be another exciting blow out? Never do they believe in his chances of victory, never do they have admiration for what they do. Never do they applaud them for the pain, not the physical, but the internal...to be a loser. To be apart of a list of wins for another. Just another 'W' for some one better, some one great.

To them they have a shot or a chance, after all it is a fight and so long as you have two men, nothing is a sure thing. Though often the odds and fates tell another story. They are merely here to advertise a product, to highlight the name to be there perenial fodder of leather and busted ambitions. Still despite what the cruel words of fate tells them, they fight as hard and as best as they can. They never stop believing, even long after the rest of the world scoffed at their best efforts.

'Experts' have their opinions on the sport, men who have never felt the pain, the sting and the depression of defeat, men who have never risked their body nor reputation in the arena, these men will scoff and joke, remark and prophesise with cockiness about their career and lack of talent. Yet the Journeyman keeps on fighting, the lash of the tongue, the burn of the printed word, the sting of a jab, the pain of defeat and the depression of letting everyone, or anyone down, still though it does not stop him from getting up, training hard and going through the process all again.

If not for them, we have no heroes or legends. If not for them, we have no arena's of combat. No prize ring. If not for them, we have no great sport...

Because, somebody has got to lose.