The Truth About Tigers

“You’re sick of the game!” Well, now, that’s a shame.
    You’re young and you’re brave and you’re bright.
“You’ve had a raw deal!” I know — but don’t squeal,
    Buck up, do your damnedest, and fight.
It’s the plugging away that will win you the day,
    So don’t be a piker, old pard!
Just draw on your grit; it’s so easy to quit:
    It’s the keeping-your-chin-up that’s hard.

—Robert Service

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When my sister and I were kids, The Quitter by Robert Service hung on the fridge, held up by a magnet. Our mom made it a rule that we had to memorize the middle stanza. You might think that’s the kind of thing that would annoy a twelve-year-old, and that he’d only come to appreciate it later in life—but honestly, I don’t think that’s the case. I don’t remember it ever feeling like a chore. Who knows. Memory’s a weird thing. But I do know it pretty quickly became one of my favorite poems. I went ahead and memorized the first and third stanzas too, and never forgot them. At 45, I can still recite the whole thing without even thinking about it.

Over the years, the poem became a kind of mantra for me. Whenever things got difficult, that familiar line would pop into my mind like magic: You’re sick of the game? Well now, that’s a shame… It stayed with me through the mess of adolescence, into young adulthood, through basic training, leading an infantry squad in Iraq, getting out and figuring out how to be a civilian, and eventually becoming a parent. Whenever it felt like a decent moment to throw myself a pity party—or maybe even throw in the towel—those lines would show up like an old friend, reminding me to buck up and do my damndest.

The poem hangs on my fridge now. I’m not sure my own kids can recite the middle stanza yet, let alone the whole thing, but someday they will. I feel extremely lucky to have the parents I do. My sister, Meridith, would say the same. They worked hard, expected us to do the same, to pull our weight, and not back down from something just because it was difficult. They’re kind, intelligent, and generous people who have always loved us unconditionally. A lot of the things they did and said have stuck with me, and I’ve tried to carry those lessons and words into my own parenting, though I don’t know if they’ve landed the same way. Time will tell.

Of all the good things they passed down—and there were plenty—The Quitter stands out to me as one of the more memorable wins in the parenting department. Just a printed poem stuck to the fridge, no lecture attached. But the message was clear, and it stayed with me: no matter what life throws at you, even when the chips are down and hope feels out of sight, if you’re still breathing, you can still fight.

And when you fail (because you will), get up, dust yourself off, and give it one more try. It’s the plugging away that wins the day.

— Nick Allison

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If you haven’t read The Quitter in a while—or ever—you should. And it just so happens to be directly below this sentence… isn’t that convenient.

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The Quitter

Robert Service

When you’re lost in the Wild, and you’re scared as a child,
    And Death looks you bang in the eye,
And you’re sore as a boil, it’s according to Hoyle
    To cock your revolver and . . . die.
But the Code of a Man says: “Fight all you can,”
    And self-dissolution is barred.
In hunger and woe, oh, it’s easy to blow . . .
    It’s the hell-served-for-breakfast that’s hard.

“You’re sick of the game!” Well, now, that’s a shame.
    You’re young and you’re brave and you’re bright.
“You’ve had a raw deal!” I know — but don’t squeal,
    Buck up, do your damnedest, and fight.
It’s the plugging away that will win you the day,
    So don’t be a piker, old pard!
Just draw on your grit; it’s so easy to quit:
    It’s the keeping-your-chin-up that’s hard.

It’s easy to cry that you’re beaten — and die;
    It’s easy to crawfish and crawl;
But to fight and to fight when hope’s out of sight —
    Why, that’s the best game of them all!
And though you come out of each gruelling bout,
    All broken and beaten and scarred,
Just have one more try — it’s dead easy to die,
    It’s the keeping-on-living that’s hard.

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This essay originally appeared at The Chaos Section under the title “Buck Up and Do Your Damnedest.”