Wagers of a Warrior
The brutal reality is that many boxers have been killed by non heavy-handed punchers. Meanwhile Deontay Wilder is arguably the hardest hitting boxer ever. It’s unlikely, but very possible, that his opponent of tonight’s long awaited rematch, Tyson Fury, is living his last day on Earth.
Regardless of me pulling for Wilder, I hope Fury doesn’t succumb to a fatality. That’s one of the two reasons tonight’s fight will be so hard for me to watch.
The second reason is because given that this sports means something to me, as it does all of its fans, these boxers are parts of my world. Boxing interacts with my concepts of fate, consequence, redemption, self-actualization, risk, and glory.
So when one of my boxers lose, given they’re parts of my world, my world tweaks. Sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. As does my relation to, and understanding of it. Andy Ruiz Jr. beat Anthony Joshua on June 1st, 2019 to become the IBF, WBO, and IBO Heavyweight Champion of the world. His upset victory coronated my last five weeks of training before fighting Phil Lo Greco. My muscles were huge, my stamina had never been better, and I was one of the hardest punchers of any gym I entered. Months after my fight, as Ruiz bought mansions and Rolls Royces and helicopters, I dated lots of girls, and raced my car around California, and spent my days writing my book in beautiful places. When Ruiz Jr. lost the Championships to Joshua on December 7th, my life consisted of treatments for all my boxing injuries, spending countless lonely hours of my life in dark rooms writing, and reflecting into the drab grey sky moodily. So when I penned in my journal: “I liked this world more when Ruiz Jr. championed it,” I meant it.
Sometimes my favorite boxer’s victories initiate phases in their lives congruent to mine, and their victory in my life isn’t causal but rather merely parallel. Sometimes the effects of a win or loss are causal. During Summer 2018 I was obligated to be in 300 hours of classes because a counselor made a mistake advising me of drop-dates. I became fatigued from the intensity of the courses during what was supposed to be my first break after being enrolled in classes year-round for two years. My honor’s streak was traded to fighting for high Fs. The sight of the same campus each day, five days a week, became grating on my eyes. I became anxious and depressed. And the counselor never vied for me to her superiors, nor was willing to admit her mistakes beyond the room. So when Golden Boy promotions robbed Gennadiy Golovkin of his victory against Canelo Alvarez in their awaited rematch that September, thus ending Golovkin’s career-undefeated streak and robbing him of his four championships, indelible shades of unfairness and corruption marked my sense of the world. That’s the effect these matches can have on fans.
The literal do-or-die consequences of tonight’s fight will change the courses of both men and radiate into the worlds of the millions who watch. I respect both men, but I sure as hell don’t envy them.
