Boxing is one of my favorite sports. It is a study in contradictions.
It is sweetly scientific while being gracefully artistic.
It is subtle and nuanced while straight-forward and bludgeoning.
It is civilized and structured while brutal and primal.
It is cerebral and physical.
It is a perfect mix of intelligence and force.
It is the perfect combination of mind and body and, if you like, soul.
It is the lowest and most basic form of competition, but exalts its competitors to the height of humanity for the moment they fight in the ring.
The fighters achieve the pinnacle of glory and heart and show what humanity can fight through, for nothing other than pride. (There are easier ways to get money and fame than getting punched, in my humble opinion)
Watch a speed fighter who holds the championship belt get in the ring with a power puncher and suddenly slip in the ring and wrench his knee apart. He has lost the fight, and his belt. It is over, there is no return, he cannot move quick enough to win the match.
But he gets up. And he continues to fight. He goes toe to toe with his opponent because he has no other option. He is outclassed in this fighting method, to say the least, but he does not give up. He fights three rounds after the initial slip before he is knocked out for good. He embodies the soul of the sport.
Fighting against impossible odds for the sheer glory and pride of his own body and mind.
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