The Champion Within
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It is with great shame that I tell you the story behind this poem. Shame because it shows I made a horrible mistake and judged someone. In 1989, I was an intern for Senator Sam Nunn in Washington D.C. One of the greatest statesmen of our generation! What a great man. I worked in domestic affairs and often answer the phone when they were ringing off the hook (as they often did.) I remember this one day that I had just gotten off the phone with a man from California who was convinced that the Senator was funding research to create laser beams that would put out the eyes of everyone on earth. (Senator Nunn was Chairman of the armed services committee.) I listened with respect as any caller to the US Senate deserves and noted his concerned to be put in the daily log files. I say this not to excuse what happened next but just to give a context that it had been quite a day.
My next caller sounded almost like a child. The voice was quiet and the words were stilted. It was Muhammad Ali - at least he said he was. I listened to him and it was difficult. At first I pushed my pad of paper aside - it had been a long day. I'd just listen this one out. But then, as I listened, I thought to myself 'What if this is