No. 2 and proud of it
There is something horrible in the Dis-United States about being a No. 2. After a long season of the NFL wars, of super athletes and clever, highly paid coaches that battled each other to near death, the final two reach the Super Bowl. The great finale finally came, one a victor, the other the loser — a loser bunch of wimps, who made stupid mistakes, pathetic. But the wee boys were just not up to the task.
The No. 2 NFL team had just successfully beaten all the other super-athlete teams but one. They didn’t win the final prize, the hail Caesar, hence they became the No. 2 bums.
Which sport doesn’t seem to make much difference, it’s all about being No. 1. No. 2 is relegated to the trash bin. So it is with many businesses, the best salesperson, beauty contests, you name it. All the prizes, all the recognition go to the ultimate winner, the No. 2 forgotten. Who ran against Bill Clinton? Who was vice president under President Gerald Ford?
Every American politician shouts on the campaign trail, “America is the best in the world. We are Number 1.” Of course America is not the best in many fields, often way down the ranking, good to be the best, but not the end-all. But I excuse the politicians. They are polished liars and BS-ers. I expect their dishonest, their false boasts. They, without fail, eloquently deliver the untruths.
Well I am a No. 2, and damn proud, in my age group, tennis singles No. 2. I was damn good, provided an excellent effort, no excuses, but he was just better. So what!
Of course I am relieved when no one asks how many competitors there were in my age group since there were only two. Nonetheless, I remain, somewhat deceitfully, a proud No. 2 and deserve recognition.