The Sweet Science

This is my submission for day 24 of The Halls of Pandemonium from Bradley Ramsey, as per the picture below.

I had to take three spins of the Wikiroulette wheel. The first two, I felt I would need degrees in various sciences to even understand. The third though, was the sport of boxing, which is much more suitable:

https://wikiroulette.co/?p=boxing

'The Sweet Science'
as Pierce Egan described it.
The puglistic art,
to hit-and-not-be-hit.

It's noble, a hard and
defined way to settle scores,
teaches discipline,
promotes health and good habits.

Brutal, vicious, should be banned,
just barbarism, not a sport;
the calls come ever louder
with each injury, each death.

Some see it only as legalised violence,
with no sporting merit,
a way to commit beatings
that would usually result in jail time.

It is sometimes a strange thing
to enjoy a sport which you know
occasionally produces tragic outcomes.
Is it something I should enjoy?

People have done,
going back millennia.
Tastes and tolerances change,
but the sport endures.

Elbows and parts other than fists,
once used, now not.
Bare knuckles replaced with gloves.
Medical staff at venues.

It evolves and remains.

Is it some sort of quietened bloodlust
that some of us have,
Or appreciation of dedication and sacrifice,
in a most solitary pursuit?

For me it's tied to some early memories.

My Dad used to work away in the week,
would come back and had recorded
some fights from nights the week prior,
some midweek fights from 'Sportsnight'.

I remember them in dark brown,
leather-looking cases.
Getting to know fighters like
Chris Eubank, Nigel Benn, Michael Watson.

Others too, older recordings of
Ali, Frazier, Foreman
and catching the tail end of
Leonard, Hagler, Hearns and Duran

seeing and hearing versions
of them at their best in prior years.
Watching with my Dad as he
told me about each fighter.

Saturday mornings with breakfast
and occasional Thursday nights
with a late-night bowl of cereal,
my Dad and I watching fights, new and old.

Sometimes there would be videos
in the local rental store,
'Best of Ali', various fight compilations,
we'd watch those, too.

I remember boxing becoming
one of those things I could stay up late for.
Three months before my seventh birthday, an alarm set at 4am.

Jumping in bed between my Mum and Dad,
listening on the radio,
as Frank Bruno came up short
against Mike Tyson.

That early morning, big fight
felt special to me,
and that memory of us all sitting, listening,
remains even 37 years on.

As time moved on,
I continued following.
Eubank was a favourite of mine,
most people hated him.

He was a showman,
branded arrogant in the press
and nicked results that many
felt were undeserved.

I liked the demeanour though
and beneath it all
was someone that trained well
and was a real hard man.

It was only when he lost,
he seemed to be embraced.
A late career comeback heard his
name chanted, as he lost courageously.

His rival Nigel Benn was
another favourite of mine,
ripping into opponents
like a mini-Tyson.

Always exciting. Always vicious.

Though both were involved in tragedy,
ending careers of both Michael Watson and Gerald McClellan respectively
and forever altering their lives.

They provided some incredible highs,
but the lows that can accompany the
trading of fists as a career,
are unlike many others.

Having seen those tragedies unfold
on-screen, certain fights and
knockouts always make you wince
and question how severe is the outcome.

Still we watch.

There were any number
of fights regularly happening.
Many memories shared with
my best friend.

From late school-years
into early into working life,
Friday or Saturday nights
watching a big fight bill.

We started watching the
big cards from The States
from about 12-13 and
having sleepovers around them.

It went on for years.
He'd sometimes come back from work,
armed with steaks,
which we would cook at 2am,

well before main events
sometimes two or three hours later.

You find yourself having followed the entire
career of Lennox Lewis, through dominance
and unexpected losses and years later
realise how good that was to watch.

Seeing the wizardry of Roy Jones Jnr,
great fights with the likes of De La Hoya,
Gatti, Ward, Calzaghe and more,
the emergence of Floyd Mayweather Jr.

Shared evenings where an exciting
undercard ends with dull main fight,
the two of us, perhaps a few beers in,
struggling to stay awake.

Other nights were the opposite,
struggling to stay awake and then
the main event is Barrera-Morales
and it wakes you up from the first bell.

Action you can't believe you're seeing.

You stay up even later, talking about it.

Still the best fight I've probably seen,
certainly over 12 rounds.

I think the sport survives because of
some of the stories.
'Rocky' tales occasionally happen.
An underdog can upset a champion.

It's a sport with numerous tales of
people turning their lives around
to become champions or
respected contenders.

In most sports, if you're being thrashed,
that's the end of it.
Yet you can lose 11 rounds of a fight,
and snatch victory with a well-timed shot.

Maybe that is why we keep coming back to it.

These days, those early morning
Stateside fights are usually
not watched live.
A seven-year old means I need sleep.

I still watch though and occasionally
will still find myself
staying up later than intended,
a fight grabbing me.

My best friend (now in Germany)
and I still talk and message before
and around the big fights
there's still some of that feel and magic.

The main hindrance now is the
amount of subscriptions,
money and pay-per-view fees,
needed to watch it all.

It can be the best of sports,
and the worst.
I haven't even touched on the corruption
always linked with it.

There is something there though,
which means it will always hold
a special place for me,
with unshakeable memories.

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