You flip flop up and pop that pup in the sucker. He takes a hard fall down, out cold. The crowd hushes. This doesn't seem very climactic. What do you do now? Roll him over and pin him? You do so, his limp body a glaring and obvious metaphor for his lame flip-floppy speeches and stances. The audience is non-plussed. A resounding silence meets your victory. Can there be any glory in defeating something so weak, pointless, and lame? You have the rest of your life to ponder this Pyrrhic victory. If you are going to topple the king, best set off some fireworks first. On your way out of the arena, you see a little brown kid crying.
“Mommy!” he sobs, “Why are we so lame! I wish we were white mommy!”
Despite the unconscious over-privileged pretty boy in the ring, surely, you have failed.