The Gods of the Ring
Essays on the Modern Warrior-Gladiator known as the Boxer
By Typicalteenager.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to these boxers or boxing except for freely available information about them, and a couple of their biographies/autobiographies.
Introduction
"We're all fighters, every single one of us. Fighting is the first sport of every man and woman. From the minute we're born, we're fighting to breathe. Then we're fighting to open our eyes. We're fighting to talk and we're fighting to walk. You can't get rid of your desire to fight when that is the very first lesson you learn in life."
-Ken Buchanan.
In the world of sports, Boxing stands slightly apart from all others, its own unique beast.
It is 'The Way Out', a path for so many young souls who have nothing, by which they can gain everything and more.
It is 'A Dirty Business', forever linked to the seedier elements of the world, whether it's seen as a barbaric blood sport that should have been abolished long ago, or acts as a home for the likes of Frankie Carbo and the International Boxing Club.
But most of all, it is a sport where calling it a sport could be considered an insult.
Boxing has always existed in one form or another. Millennia before the birth of gloved pugilism, its predecessor in bare-knuckle brawling, or the ancient Greek fist fighting, the cave-dwelling ancestors that were fated to become the Human Race would fight for survival against the world around them with the only weapon in their hands: the hands themselves, fingers curling tightly into the palm to form the first fists.
Perhaps that is why we love a sport that requires two individuals to enter that oxymoron of a roped square we call a ring with the intent of beating their opponent until they are incapacitated or unconscious. It touches something primal within.
Perhaps it is why, though all boxers are respected for what they do, the ones that remain burned into the memories of those who see them are the ones who act like they are those ancestral Humans, fighting as if to the death. The Jack Dempseys, the Sonny Listons, the Mike Tysons, the Nigel Benns: the ones who enter the ring with the intent of taking their opponent's head off, their every punch, as Tyson would say, thrown with bad intentions.
And perhaps it is why, despite so many claiming that the sport is a broken shadow of what it used to be, with multiple titles on every level, the addition of new weight classes, and the advent of televised bouts requiring the modern boxer to be a showman as much as a fighter, the core of Boxing remains the same.
In the end, the titles, the weight divisions, the television ratings, the money, and, though it would prevent boxing from being a paid profession, even the fans don't matter.
What matters is that when two boxers face off in the ring, whatever the reason or motivation to be there, there is but one desire in their hearts.
Victory.
Dominance.
Proving their superiority over the other.
Proving that they are the better boxer.
That part of Boxing -that simple, brutal, primal core- remains present and unchanged throughout the course of time.
And as long as two people decide to do battle with their fists, it will always be that way.
Typicalteenager:
So I recently read The Gods of War: Boxing Essays by Springs Toledo, and was instantly hooked. It combines factual elements with a style of writing as though telling an ancient tale, and thus becomes a unique book that I have read and reread several times over.
And so I dare to step up and have a go myself. It won't be as good by far, but I'll still give it a good try. Each chapter will be self-contained: effectively a series of one-shots collected together, so hopefully you won't be left hanging between updates like with my other two stories (emphasis on hopefully).
On another note, I managed a weekly update again! That's three weeks in a row. Sweet!
But I digress. Until next time dear readers, I hope you enjoy the latest piece from myself, and I will hopefully see you all next week.
Let's try four weekly updates in a row!