The moral of the story is....

I had the good fortune of spending some time in Savana Georgia a few weeks ago. We had an afternoon to explore and I found some terrific old bookstores down by the river and spent a pleasant afternoon window and book-shopping.

In one of the stores I found an old autobiography with yellow pages and grainy photos. I happily paid $19.95 for it, and stuffed it into my backback and rediscovered it just the other day.

Here’s how it begins:

"In 1915, when I was nineteen, I fought Johnny Sudenberg ten rounds in the wild mining town of Goldfield, Nevada. I was in there with a good fighter, one much better than I was, but I took the fight because I was dead broke and my manager of the moment, Jack Gilfeather, had been able to jimmy a $100 guarantee out of [the] promoter...

Sudenberg almost killed me. For two rounds it was a fight. For the next eight I was a helpless, blood-soaked punching bag. It was the worst beating of my life. I don't remember going down once, because I still don't remember the last three or four rounds.

Goldfield was a tough town. A stranger who got his brains knocked out in Goldfield was no rarity. Hardly worth bothering the doctor about. So they dumped me, unconscious, into a wheelbarrow and some good Samaritan pushed me through the hilly streets. He threw me on the bunk in my "home." I slept.

My "home" was a cave in the side of a hill. Goldfield had been a boom mining town and a room cost five dollars a week. In advance, for a skinny young hobo with holes in his shoes and a newspaper for a suitcase. ...

I remember nothing at all until I woke up at three o' clock the next afternoon – nearly twenty hours after I'd been wheelbarrowed "home."
Everything hurt, of course. But I was young, and I was hungry. I stumbled over to the saloon where Gilfeather hung out, to collect my share of the purse.

In the saloon a few heroes laughed at my battered face. A few made jokes about how funny I looked being trundled through the streets in a wheelbarrow (which is the way I found out about that journey).

I asked where I could find Gilfeather.

A bartender said, "He left town last night, kid. He got drunk and Blew his wad shooting craps."

I had been almost killed for nothing. I was broke and starving. It was the lowest point of my entire life..."

Four years later, on July 4, 1919, Jack Dempsey – yes, the dog-eared old book was Dempsey’s Autobiography—demolished the hulking giant, Jess Willard, to win the single most coveted prize in all of sports in that era: the Heavyweight Boxing Championship of the World.

Is there a moral there? I think there is.

For Champions, the most essential attribute is a grim determination to succeed. Successful people have patience, tenacity and they never quit. They never yield. They never give in. They always keep on going...

Just like Jack Dempsey.Just like every single person in the history of the world who has dared to dream great dreams—and to turn those dreams into reality, no matter long or how hard the journey.

If YOU want to succeed, you MUST accept this fundamental truth. Success requires effort. It requires hard work. It demands persistence. There is always a price. Nothing in life is easy. Not for you, not for me, and certainly not for Jack Dempsey.

And yet – look at what he accomplished, against unimaginable odds. Take it to heart. It’s a classic example of the indomitable power of the human spirit.

No matter what the odds, if you keep on fighting the fight, you WILL win. I guarantee it.

Til next time....