Competing in junior fencing requires lessons, equipment, and

Hear, O seekers of fairness and lovers of noble contests, the words of Mary Pilon, who declared: “Competing in junior fencing requires lessons, equipment, and travel that may cost hundreds or even thousands of dollars a month, keeping talented athletes from wielding sabers or masks.” Though she speaks of fencing, her words pierce deeper, into the truth of how wealth and privilege often shape the destinies of the gifted, keeping some from the field of glory not for lack of skill, but for lack of coin.

In this reflection, we see the shadow cast upon merit. The noble art of fencing, once a discipline of courage and precision, has become, for many, a gate barred by gold. The lessons needed to refine skill, the equipment that guards the body, the travel to distant tournaments—these are not challenges of will or talent, but of wealth. Thus, the poor but gifted child, whose heart burns with fire, is kept from the piste, while another, less hungry for victory but richer in purse, takes their place.

Such is the injustice Pilon unmasks: that the path of the athlete is too often shaped not by their courage, but by their circumstance. The saber and the mask, symbols of equality in the bout, are denied to those who cannot afford them. What should be a contest of spirit becomes a contest of wallets. This is not the way of true sport, nor of honor, nor of justice.

Consider, O listener, the tale of Miltiades of Athens, who led his people at the Battle of Marathon. Had he not been trained in the arts of war, Greece might have fallen. Yet imagine if his training had been denied to him, not by fate, but by the price of a weapon he could not afford. History would have been poorer for it. Likewise, when modern systems deny the poor access to disciplines like fencing, music, or science, the world itself is impoverished, for its heroes are left unseen, their gifts untested.

The meaning of Pilon’s words is therefore clear: opportunity must not be chained to privilege. For in every city, in every village, there are children with the souls of champions who will never grasp the saber, who will never don the mask, simply because the gatekeeper demands payment. And in this, the world loses not only their victories but also the inspiration they would have offered.

The lesson, O child of tomorrow, is this: fight for a world where talent is nourished, not stifled, where the cost of equipment or travel does not determine destiny. Do not accept that greatness belongs only to the wealthy; instead, seek ways to open doors, to build bridges, to share tools and knowledge with those who hunger to learn. For the worth of a true community lies not in how high its privileged can climb, but in how far its humble can rise.

Practical action follows: support scholarships, community programs, and shared resources. If you hold power, use it to remove barriers; if you hold wealth, share it to give others a chance; if you hold influence, speak for those who cannot be heard. And in your own life, remember that the value of any contest is not in excluding the weak, but in allowing every worthy spirit to test their mettle.

Therefore, remember Pilon’s wisdom: the true test of sport, and of society, is not whether the strong can win, but whether the gifted are given the chance to compete at all. The saber and the mask must not belong only to the few, but to all who dare to wield them. For only then will the spirit of fairness, honor, and true greatness shine unclouded in the arena of life.