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They were all there to hear one man. Gary. Gary listened to the din coming from the conference room at the end of the hall where the press jostled for position and he shook with anticipation. When he entered the contest he knew he was going to win. No one believed in Gary. Not his girlfriend. Not the so called “experts.” But he never doubted. And now here it was, 10 rounds later, the golden thingy at the end of the thing. Victory. And what lie beyond, Gary wondered? Fame? Fortune? Corporate Sponsorship? Ladies? Biologically quarantined Dwell furniture? It wasn’t always like this. Of the 1,024 contestants entering the “International Coin-Flipping Championship” he was one of the least talked about. They called him a chump and they treated him like one. His mind turned to one of the darkest days on his hard won journey. He was on the rough side of town outside the derelict Waterworks practicing his now world famous flip, when he was approached by a gang of multicultural toughs -- a white guy with a Japanese-themed bandana, a black guy with an excessive amount of jerry curl, a Latino with a gold crucifix and faux black leather jacket with a flimsy collar. “So you are the Gary. The one who says he is the best. The best coin flipper in town,” the white tough seethed through his teeth in with a Mickey Roarkish hiss, ending the sentence with a stiff punch to the gut. Gary doubled over. “No, I’m not the best in town,” Gary coughed, pausing for effect. “I’m the best there ever was.” The toughs beat the crap out of Gary that day. It ended with his coin, a Delaware Quarter, 1963 mint, spinning in slow motion and finally coming a rest just as Gary collapsed to the ground unconscious. Maybe it was lucky the toughs had broken his flipping hand. He developed his trademark style by having to flip goofy-handed for months while his hand healed. That same idiosyncratic style, Gary thought, ultimately led to his success in the contest. “Funny how things turn out,” Gary thought. He stepped into the lights and was hit with dozens of questions at once. “Now just hold on a second,” Gary barked. “Before we start I just want to say a few words. When I first started this competition you guys never gave me a chance. The whole world was against me. So I just wanted to take this moment to thank some people who stuck by me throughout this thing. First I want to thank my moms. She is a brave woman who raised me against all odds. Then there’s old Mr. Bojangles, the superintendent of my building who turned me on to the Delaware ’63. And then of course, there’s the Big Guy. Jesus, our Lord and Savior, by whose benevolent grace I am here today to talk to you about my victory. Now, I’ll take your questions one at a time please…”