I still remember how shocked I was the first time I watched Rocky and realized that he lost the climactic fight.
I had always just kind of assumed he won. It was the only thing that made sense. I figured winning was what made him a classic Hollywood hero in the first place. And we all know heroes aren’t supposed to lose.
So just imagine my surprise!
I don’t know—I guess cultural osmosis is a funny thing.
Rocky was nearly four decades old by the time I got around to watching it and growing up under the veritable mountain of triumphant iconography associated with its historic legacy caused me to make the wrong assumption, I suppose.
I was sure Rocky was both undefeated and undefeatable (even though a quick web search would have rendered a correction in the twenty seconds or so that it would have taken for our dial-up connection to squelch and squeal its way down the information superhighway).
Y’know, now that I’m thinking about it, maybe I should just blame the theme song. Cause man, that theme song fucking rocks! Never before or since has a single riff so perfectly captured the very sonic essence of triumph itself.
And yet, it’s Apollo Creed, not Rocky Balboa, whose hand is raised after Fifteen Rounds in Hell.
Teen Cody was so confused.
“He loses? What the hell!”
Of course, Rocky doesn’t really lose, does he? I mean, sure, he loses the fight, but he wins in every other sense of the word. He discovers himself. He falls in love. He realizes his potential. He lives to fight another day. He finds purpose and meaning and and validation. He shows the heart of a champion and demonstrates great pride.
And why not? He is a true warrior—a Heroic fighter in the vein and visage of Herakles or Theseus.
“Because all I wanna do is go the distance.”1
So maybe it’s not whether you win the fight that really matters, but how you comport yourself when the punches start falling like so much rain.
Well, dear reader, I sure hope that’s the case because this week Resistance kicked my ass seven ways to Sunday.
Mercifully, it’s been a while since I’ve suffered such an abject defeat, but I stand before you humbled by my mighty adversary. I knew its worst blows were coming, and still, I managed to get caught out, unprepared and unaware.
Let’s make no bones about it: I lost this round. Badly. It will be awhile before the sour memory of kissing the canvas fades from memory, before my jaw stops feeling like shattered glass and my internal organs decide that it’s finally safe to leave the witness protection program and come out of hiding.
So, no, I don’t yet have a new short story or piece of serialized fiction for you to read this week.
I don’t have a clever essay that will teach you something new or fascinate you.
I don’t have a poignant personal story to regale. No tales of wisdom, profundity, and uplift.
No.
I just have these bare words strung together in hollow sentences. Proof, of a kind, evidence that I’m still here to fight another day.
Given what I’ve suffered this week, such a victory is more than enough. For there will always be another fight; I’ll have my chance at vengeance soon enough. For now, however, I’ll content myself to lick my wounds and reflect on what I might have done differently, how I might have ducked that punishing jab, or how I could have counterpunched when my opponent left their strong side open.
I may have lost, but I managed to cling onto a modicum of grace for myself, and so, really, I have won. I haven’t given up or beaten myself. Whenever I got knocked down, I immediately sprang right back up, eager to find an opening of my own.
So, sure: I’m probably the losingest winner you’re likely to encounter this week, but a winner, I remain.
Because, as Rocky himself puts it in the sixth instalment of the franchise, “It ain’t about how hard you hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward; how much you can take and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done!”2
Perhaps, I’m just seeking solace by professing a hollow, moral victory, but I don’t think the Italian Stallion would do me dirty like that.
No, the fact that I’m back on my feet before the end of the ten count is significant, it’s a very real victory, especially given the amount of punishment my opponent inflicted upon me.
Somehow, I’m still standing. Beaten, but not broken. Never broken.
So keep fighting, dear reader. Keep fighting!
Cause I ain’t heard that final bell ring just yet.
Quote from Rocky (1976).
Quote from Rocky Balboa (2006)
Raw and real, which makes this refreshing to read. In a world increasingly obsessed with those perfect IG moments, it’s encouraging to find reality.
Stay strong my friend the adversary never wavers in their attempts to take you down. You must never waver in clawing your way back up!!! I stand with you!
Cee cee