I don't have he name of the writer but it truly is what a Champion is all about.

"The Champion"

He was a Bloomingdale Wrestler of flesh and blood. He wasn't made of rock.
Angel, devil, child - a man of ordinary stock.
But somehow he was different - true athletes always are
For though he cursed, and bled, and sweat, he prided in the scar.
They told him to win like a man,
no matter what the cost;
So many times he ventured forth;
so many times he lost.
And when they turned around, and said "Its OK son; you tried,"
He clenched his headgear in his fist, and like a man, he cried.
But from his tears came anger;
then, when it ceased to spin,
the Bloodingdale Wrestler rose again,
determined that the next time, he would win.
His trembling body strengthened; his heart soared in the sky,
his darkened soul stood flaming with the fire in his eye.
And so he worked relentlessly;
he struggled and he strained.
His conscience whipped him mercilessly
for every ounce he gained.
He ran on legs like pistons;
his muscled arms grew sore;
He'd tell himself, "I have to"
then ask himself, "What for?"
And then, at last, the reckoning;
the final hour was here.
His stomach lightened dangerously,
his muscles tensed with fear.
Weak-kneed, he shook the challenger's hand-and then,
as one possessed,
His instincts gave him power,
and his body did the rest.
It suddenly was ended.
His body seemed to shatter.
A crowd was cheering somewhere,
but to him, it didn't matter.
One thought was gleaming in his brain-a thought that made him smile:
He'd given all he had,
and that's what made it all worthwhile.
He stood and faced his teammates,
with pride instead of shame.
He knew not that he'd won or lost,
but that he'd played the game.
And some call him The Wrestler
and some call him A Man,
but he called himself "A Winner".
The best name in the land.