"Hey," I said, "that ought to be quite a fight. Who do you think we'll have representing the Solar System? A _Slaber_ from Jupiter would be a good bet. He--" There he went again. He screamed, "Of course! Of course, a _Slaber_ would be best, _but you're the champion! A stupid idiot--but champion!_" * * * * * I gaped at that, then let my eyes go down to the news account. He was right. As champion, I was scheduled to meet the Centaurian gladiator. On the outcome would depend the fate of the System. "Well," I said slowly. "Guess it makes sense at that. I _am_ the best gladiator in the System." He closed his little bird eyes in anguish. I added, "As a matter of fact, I could use the exercise. I haven't had a meet in months." I eyed him accusingly. "What kind of a manager are you? Here I am, Solar System Champ and you haven't got me a fight since I won the Interplanetary Meet. The biggest drawing card in--" He'd got to the point where he was so mad he wasn't hopping any more. Just breathing real deep. He said, "The reason you haven't had any meets since you became champ is because I'd rather have a live champ making a good living endorsing Callipso Snak-goat Cheese--and me getting ten percent--than I would have a dead champ." "What'd'ya mean?" I scoffed. "Nobody gets killed in an exhibition match." I flexed my muscles. "Besides, I can take care of myself up against any earth-side gladiator after--" He glowered at me. "Anybody who killed the champ, by accident or otherwise, in an exhibition match, would have a nice reputation for himself. _You_ might go into the arena with the idea of not killing your opponent, but would _he_?" I shrugged uncomfortably. "I can take care of myself--" "Look," he shrilled, "let's go back over a little recent arena history. Less than a year ago you were a second-rater fighting at the state fairs. You went to Mars to watch the Interplanetary Meet which is held once every decade to decide interplanetary affairs. The ship carrying Terra's gladiators was lost in space and you were tossed in as an emergency replacement." "Sure," I said. "The first time a Terran ever won an Interplanetary Meet." He whistled disgustedly, "The first time a Terran ever lasted more than five minutes." "Well?" I said proudly. He pointed a few fingers at me. "BY A FLUKE! By using a lot of ideas you got from that quotation spouting girl friend of yours, you won by a fluke! Among other things, you _played possum_, as you called it, under a heap of corpses until all the others were either killed or wounded and then got up and finished them off. The fans throughout the system are still screaming about that." "Well, I'm still champ," I said truculently. "I licked them once, and...." "Aw, shut up," he shrilled. He whirled about and started for the door. "I'll see what I can do." * * * * *