Today's headlines read, "Head-butt Sinks Pacquiao", "RP Grieves Over Pacquiao Loss", "Pacquiao Loses Thriller" and so on. Well, that's the way the cookie crumbles, as Howard Cosell used to say. One can't always expect to come up on top. Manny Pacquiao has nothing to be ashamed of. He was valiant till the end, lasting the whole 12 rounds despite a bloodied face and a thrashing courtesy of "El Terrible". It was noble of him to muster up the guts to walk over to Morales and offer his congratulations. This time, the better man won. His camp should not even try to conjure up excuses for his loss. Pacman just has to set his sights on the next fight where hopefully he'll come out the victor. In this vein, I would like to share with you one of my favorite poems of all time:Invictus by William Ernest Henley
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.