"Ten Count"
Vibrating from the increasing power of the rising decibels, He stands motionless and alone in the darkness of the tunnel. Unable to see past the blinding flood lights of the arena his music hits, And the underdog makes the long walk by himself pounding his fists. Dipping and dogging venomous boos, words, and Insults from faceless opponents with no name, Not bothered by the attempts of the crowd to slander or defame. Between the taut and strained ropes he goes, Shaking the nerves and doubt from his brain by bouncing on his toes. As sweat pours down his brow and adrenaline fills his veins, Across the mat his eyes meet with the favorite who surely would be crowned king. The underdog and the favorite meet at the center of the ring, Standing close enough for the favorite to feel the underdog's hearts uncontrollable palpitating. Though the ref does his best to strenuously bark into his ear one final thing, The deafening rumble from the anticipating crowd is all the underdo...