Georges St-Pierre: Standing Atop The Ice Mountain

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Georges St-Pierre: Standing Atop The Ice Mountain

First: A statement of fact.

If any one ever had any doubts, I will continue to be loyal to Georges St-Pierre no matter the outcome of his fight with Thiago Alves on July 11, 2009.

Thiago Alves will never count me as one of his fans or admirers.

Alves is young and brash in making promises he may not be able to keep. Ah, the folly of youth.

My opinion that Georges is the most phenomenal Welterweight fighter in the world is written in stone.

Nothing will change my opinion so just don't start with me—I am not having it!

Georges has brought more dignity and class to the sport of MMA, most particularly to the UFC, than any other fighter. Period.

How rare to find a gentleman with a heart of gold in such a violent sport.

Although I have yet to find out if he loves animals, a prerequisite of mine in judging a person's true character, I have all the faith in the world in GSP.

Somehow from a very young and impressionable age, he has overcome all odds and become what he has always dreamed of being: A World Champion.

The fine characteristics that have brought him this far are still intact.

He has not become bored or jaded with his position and takes nothing about it for granted.

The position he enjoys has not been purchased with any great wealth, or because of the generosity or influence of his many friends; it has been purchased with his own blood sweat and tears.

Many have been chosen to become champions, but few remain as innocent and pure of heart after making the climb as humble French Canadian or "North American" Georges St-Pierre.

In reading fairy tales to my grandchildren I have encountered a story of an ice mountain.

In the story a princess is on top of the mountain and appears to be completely inaccessible from the bottom of the steep climb, looking up.

Perhaps some of my readers are familiar with the story from their youthful bedtime stories.

My grandchildren may remember the story and the moral, but alas, I do not.

In my version of the story today, a young man has made the incredibly difficult climb to the very top of the mountain.

For every step he has managed to go forward he has had to overcome three steps sliding back.

The climb has been treacherous and unbelievably lonely.

Although friends and fans have cheered him on, only he himself is aware of the pain and struggle it has taken to reach the top.

An incredible struggle that few would even comprehend, let alone undertake.

No shortcuts exist.

No fast track through the crowds of hopeful contenders milling around at the bottom with their eyes trained on the heavens above.

Pure determination and grit have gotten him to his goal.

Now, from the bottom of the mountain come a chorus from the challengers—like the baying of the ever persistent wolves of folklore and grandmother's fairy tales the world over for centuries.

"We are coming! You are not safe on your perilous peak...we are coming to take away your dream...you are not safe...we are coming for what is yours to take it from you and make it our own!"

In the fairy tales, the wolves never win.

The hero retains his hard won dream and remains at the top of his icy fortress.

Only the hero can decide how this story will end.

Grandma has grown old and has no power to recollect the ending.

Perhaps that is because it has yet to be written.

Fight on Georges!

Grandma is counting on you for a very happy ending!

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