The Man in the Arena

Teddy Roosevelt: a man’s man. The kind of man I admire. A gritty, hard-core, take-no-prisoners, live-life-to-the-fullest kind of guy, how could one not admire him? Once he was shot in an assassination attempt just as he was about to deliver a speech. The bullet penetrated into his chest, stopping short of his heart. However, instead of rushing to the emergency room, he insisted on delivering his 90 minute oration with that bullet still in his chest. What a guy!

Coming from a man who new how to stand against long odds, I find the following speech quite compelling:

It is not the critic who counts:

not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles

or where the doer of deeds could have done better.

The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena,

whose face is marred by

dust and sweat and blood,

who strives valiantly,

who errs and comes up short again and again,

because there is no effort without error or shortcoming,

but who knows the great enthusiasms,

the great devotions,

who spends himself for a worthy cause;

who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly,

so that his place shall never be

with those cold and timid souls

who knew neither victory nor defeat.

Theodore

Roosevelt

~ by Ben on June 17, 2009.