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Helen had exhausted her strength and energy against a bully and did not win. She needed a champion--someone bigger, taller, stronger, bolder--Guinevere had had Lancelot, a lot of women in legend and lore, when challenged by a dragon or a dark knight, found a champion to right the wrongs. Helen found her champion, applauded as she watched him put a boot on his opponent's chest and wait out the referee’s count of three then raise his arms in triumph. She ducked the ring ropes, joined him, and gestured the crowd to their feet. He was their champion, too.

Harley ‘Biker’ Davison enjoyed his renewed popularity. The Prize Committee had been a little slow to pick up their pen to sign the contract but he’d proved them wrong–who would expect a new manager would make such a difference? She gestured the crowd to their feet for him. The enthusiasm of the fans infused him with the added stamina he would need to face the heavy appearance schedule required of the World Heavyweight Champion.

Mark carried his morning coffee out to the patio and watched the birds feuding around the feeder and the squirrel that was sneaking from under the bushes. This was the life he had planned, retirement while he could still enjoy it, time to take a step back, consider those 'other interests' people always vowed to pursue as they eased into retirement . . . a mortgage might be a prime motivator for a man’s career but he had canceled that with cash. The cash didn’t cancel the plumber, the electrician, the roofer, and the remodeling contractor, all of whose estimates and bills were piled on his desk next to the new contract Andy had forwarded.