Imagine a dog-fighting ring. An arena, somewhere in a dark basement; two dogs enter; one dog leaves. Brutal and horrific, of course; but, human nature being as it is, it draws crowds.
One night in the ring the match-up is this: on one side, a Chihuaha; on the other side, a wolf. (Yes, an actual wolf, from the forest.)
What is the outcome?
Well, before that, a different question: supposing that this were taking place in a Hollywood movie, what would be the outcome?
We can see it easily enough, in our mind’s eye. The camera shows us the Chihuaha’s point of view. The wolf is huge, hulking, slavering. It growls menacingly, its eyes glowing with a red malevolence. In a moment it will strike. But the Chihuaha is the hero of this tale. What our tiny canine protagonist lacks in might, he makes up for in heart. He gathers all his will… and before the wolf can react, the Chihuaha surges forward; he darts between the great predator’s legs, and leaps up—sinking his teeth into the wolf’s throat! The wolf, shocked, enraged, paws at his assailant, shakes his head violently, rolls around, tries to fling the other dog free… to no avail! The Chihuaha, dazed by the wolf’s mad writhings, nearly passes out, but somehow—drawing on some deep reserve of courage and spite, he holds on! He holds on… and the wolf begins to weaken. Weakening from blood loss, made worse by his own exertions, the wolf begins to slow down… and more… and finally, after what seems like an eternity… the beast’s eyes roll back in his head; he collapses… and it’s over. Against what anyone would call astronomical odds, against all reason (yet predicted with certainty by all film-goers)… the underdog has won.
That’s the Hollywood version. And in reality? Popular entertainment aside, what should we expect of a scenario like this in real life? What is our honest prediction?
This: that the wolf eats the Chihuaha. A short fight and a gruesome end. Because in real life, underdogs lose.
But on this night (we’re still imagining that scenario, remember?), that’s not quite what happens.
The tiny Chihuaha and the massive wolf are released into the ring. The crowd murmurs discontendedly; they do not expect this to be long, nor entertaining. The outcome is assured; why go through the motions? A handful of mad gamblers have bet on the tiny dog; their friends laughed at their folly. Seeing the two contestants, even those reckless fools rethink their choices. The wolf and the Chihuaha growl at each other. The wolf gets ready to take his first, slow, leisurely step toward his prey…
… when suddenly, his skull explodes into a shower of blood and gore, smashed into pulp by a single round from a high-powered sniper rifle, fired by a gunman in the stands.
The crowd goes silent as the wolf’s lifeless body collapses onto the floor of the ring. The Chihuaha, momentarily taken quite aback by this development, quickly recovers his poise; he saunters calmly across the arena, giving the wolf’s carcass one tentative sniff; then, with a yelp, the tiny dog nips the dead wolf’s paw; this being done, he springs back and strikes a winner’s pose. His enemy is beaten.
And the crowd goes wild. Great God above! Against all odds, the wolf is beaten! Those mad fools who bet on the Chihuaha—how right they were! Who could believe it, but—it’s happened! The underdog has won!
The parable of the underdog
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Imagine a dog-fighting ring. An arena, somewhere in a dark basement; two dogs enter; one dog leaves. Brutal and horrific, of course; but, human nature being as it is, it draws crowds.
One night in the ring the match-up is this: on one side, a Chihuaha; on the other side, a wolf. (Yes, an actual wolf, from the forest.)
What is the outcome?
Well, before that, a different question: supposing that this were taking place in a Hollywood movie, what would be the outcome?
We can see it easily enough, in our mind’s eye. The camera shows us the Chihuaha’s point of view. The wolf is huge, hulking, slavering. It growls menacingly, its eyes glowing with a red malevolence. In a moment it will strike. But the Chihuaha is the hero of this tale. What our tiny canine protagonist lacks in might, he makes up for in heart. He gathers all his will… and before the wolf can react, the Chihuaha surges forward; he darts between the great predator’s legs, and leaps up—sinking his teeth into the wolf’s throat! The wolf, shocked, enraged, paws at his assailant, shakes his head violently, rolls around, tries to fling the other dog free… to no avail! The Chihuaha, dazed by the wolf’s mad writhings, nearly passes out, but somehow—drawing on some deep reserve of courage and spite, he holds on! He holds on… and the wolf begins to weaken. Weakening from blood loss, made worse by his own exertions, the wolf begins to slow down… and more… and finally, after what seems like an eternity… the beast’s eyes roll back in his head; he collapses… and it’s over. Against what anyone would call astronomical odds, against all reason (yet predicted with certainty by all film-goers)… the underdog has won.
That’s the Hollywood version. And in reality? Popular entertainment aside, what should we expect of a scenario like this in real life? What is our honest prediction?
This: that the wolf eats the Chihuaha. A short fight and a gruesome end. Because in real life, underdogs lose.
But on this night (we’re still imagining that scenario, remember?), that’s not quite what happens.
The tiny Chihuaha and the massive wolf are released into the ring. The crowd murmurs discontendedly; they do not expect this to be long, nor entertaining. The outcome is assured; why go through the motions? A handful of mad gamblers have bet on the tiny dog; their friends laughed at their folly. Seeing the two contestants, even those reckless fools rethink their choices. The wolf and the Chihuaha growl at each other. The wolf gets ready to take his first, slow, leisurely step toward his prey…
… when suddenly, his skull explodes into a shower of blood and gore, smashed into pulp by a single round from a high-powered sniper rifle, fired by a gunman in the stands.
The crowd goes silent as the wolf’s lifeless body collapses onto the floor of the ring. The Chihuaha, momentarily taken quite aback by this development, quickly recovers his poise; he saunters calmly across the arena, giving the wolf’s carcass one tentative sniff; then, with a yelp, the tiny dog nips the dead wolf’s paw; this being done, he springs back and strikes a winner’s pose. His enemy is beaten.
And the crowd goes wild. Great God above! Against all odds, the wolf is beaten! Those mad fools who bet on the Chihuaha—how right they were! Who could believe it, but—it’s happened! The underdog has won!
Hasn’t it?