You know, Robert Frost stated once, in his poem entitled "The Road Not Taken":
"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."
This holds true to me. When things came down to it -- my profession, that is, of which I will be laboring for until the day of my retirement -- I came to the proverbial fork in the road; the exact same wood Frost himself had wandered off and stumbled upon. I had seen the two roads divided. I had seen the one with the beaten path. And I had seen the one emblazoned with leaves, bearing the whispers of foot steps lost in the wind, calling for me to venture through.
As if it were not obvious, I had chosen the path of which had called my name. It was a calling, indeed. And as I bid adieu to the abandoned path, I had finally realized just why I had been chosen.
It was not the path who elected me, for it was I who elected it. I had chosen the path that lead to my eternal roots. The eternal roots of which that had stemmed to my neglected childhood.
Wrestling. One simple, solitary, mindless word. Wrestling. Since I was a child I had been compelled -- almost irritably drawn to it. And it was henceforth from which I set out upon my solitary goal to become a man of such sovereignty; of such bravery; of such strength; of such fortitude. And after conquering the ranks of many independent federations, I have finally found myself upon the hWo once more. It is here I shall continue to compete and continue to further excel beyond my goal. It is here I shall display my superiority.
