SBNation.com User Blog: DrRck

Soren Kierkegaard's 200th Birthday: Being Beaten Up by Life and Everything Else before You Understand What's Happening

DrRck — Wed, 22 May 2013 18:26:02 -0000

May 5th was the 200th of Kierkegaard. This is perhaps significant to a few people.

I mention it because I noticed the acknowledgement in one trendy, smarty-farty online news mag,and also because, of my four degrees, the first, in philosophy, was and remains the most important, because it taught me more than any other. But, I didn't even begin to understand existentialism until 10 years after I had finished that degree, but continued to read philosophy through the sheer love of it.

I found that Kierkegaard's philosophy, whether you think it's the foundation of existentialism or not (I happen to agree that it is), it's not something you "get" by studying. Classroom work helps, to be sure, but it really is more like Zen. I spent ten years studying Zen, and this sort of thing is relevant. I can tell you stories of my experience with this, but not now. The point is, both Zen and existentialism will both hit you smack between the eyes, when you least expect it.

Kierkegaard was probably more obscure than most other philosophers. Schopenhauer is loose but clear, and warm and fuzzy; I like him very much. Kant is so inconsistent, at least in the Critique of Pure Reason, that I'm pretty sure,after years of trying to understand what I used to think was something very important that Kant had discovered, that he probably never really understood what he was trying to say. I still like him like him a lot, but he really was confused. Spinoza is the clearest, and to me, the most important philosopher who has lived in any culture, because he has embodied the ideal of philosophy since at least from Aquinas to Leibnitz and Newton (actually, more Leibnitz than Newton). This ideal was to explain the world through pure reason. I think Spinoza did this.

So what's the point of this dreary and tedious essay? About one motive of philosophy, which is I imagine the primary motive of "philosophy" when people think of that term. That motive is to understand, not the mysterious inner workings of the Universe writ large, or to analyze how we think, and whether how we think is appropriate to comprehend how the Universe works.

The motive of philosophy that I have in mind here, and in fact have kept in mind because it's become rather urgent for me, is more along the lines of what we might expect from such an otherwise useless endeavor: It's the, some, any, answer to the question, "What the fuck is happening here?"

So I got to thinking about this, in my own life (which is uninteresting to everyone, including me), and also in boxing.

Harrison is "unretiring" after 20 days. Mosley has a win, his first since 2009, and is now, by Don King's standards a contender for something. Margarito is angling to return to the ring. Riddick Bowe, as I understand it. may attempt muay tai.

Someone said to me once that life will give you the test first, and the lesson later, and this is, of course true.This was a very drunk person, and I never saw them again. But they were right.

They were really only paraphrasing Kierkegaard, who said that "Life must be lived forwards, but it can be only be understood backwards."

We all know this, because I've had untold numbers of people (usually in bars, late at night, and cheap diners, early in the morning) tell me that "hindsight is 20/20." These people, none of whom I ever got to know, and are certainly all dead now, were mostly mourning over some screw-up that they knew, either in the dark hours of the night, or the terrible first light that would make this next day just another nightmare for them, that they had committed, and that the whole mess of their lives was really all their fault.

What's hard here is that every choice is, to the chooser, unknown in outcome, but full of hope. Choosing, especially against the odds, is to bet on the future. That's why the poor and the sick and the uneducated buy lottery tickets: this is in fact their most logical strategy for improving their condition, because however unlikely a win may be, they have absolutely no alternative hope.

We just don't know the outcomes of our decisions, until we've seen the result, and that's when we learn if our choice was the "right" one. We can also say, regardless of the immediate result, and at the time of whatever event may be at issue, that we have no regrets. I've done that, and I've learned that sometimes the gestation period of a choice can extend into decades.

Well, Harrison had made a choice, Mosley has made one, Margarito has made one.

Maybe I'm very, very stupid, which is entirely possible, but I really think that there are really no "lessons" in life. People suffer consequences from actions, and some may be happy, and some may be very sad. Extrapolating from the past into the future is not easy.

So, you only live your life forward, because it pushes and insists on your choices from day-to-day and in fact from hour-to-hour, but you really have no idea what the hell happened until you take account of the wreckage.

But, on a brighter note, I believe that, with Cicero, "Those who have done nothing ill, have never done anything."+

Take take your pick.

May 5th was the 200th of Kierkegaard. This is perhaps significant to a few people.

So I got to thinking about this, in my own life (which is uninteresting to everyone, including me), and also in boxing.

Someone said to me once that life will give you the test first, and the lesson later, and this is, of course true.This was a very drunk person, and I never saw them again. But they were right.

They were really only paraphrasing Kierkegaard, who said that "Life must be lived forwards, but it can be only be understood backwards."

Well, Harrison had made a choice, Mosley has made one, Margarito has made one.

But, on a brighter note, I believe that, with Cicero, "Those who have done nothing ill, have never done anything."+

Take take your pick.

Dark Angel: Satan, Milton's Paradise Lost, and the Human Spirit

DrRck — Wed, 17 Apr 2013 18:59:21 -0000

Me miserable! Which way shall I fly

Infinite wrath, and infinite despair?

Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell

John Milton, Paradise Lost, Book IV, Lines 73-75.

I was very lucky. I was able to take a class, years ago, devoted entirely to Milton's Paradise Lost. I would never have read it on my own, of course, being a kid from Brooklyn and a high school drop-out, because it's tough slog, full of classic allusions, written in a very dense style, and it took all of that entire term to get through it.

I've read it on my own since, many many times. The reason is because it seems to say so much about the human spirit, and the grave and apparently obvious injustice we seem to be forced to face in order to be alive.

What it says to me, more than anything else, is how we seem to be condemned for what we are and yet what we cannot help being.

It's supposedly a story designed to "justify the ways of God to Man," in Milton's own words, but there is a not-so-deep secret , yet very deep secret, here: Satan is the hero. The debates go on and on about whether Milton intended this. I think he did.

Remember, by this time he had gone blind. He had loved to read (as do I), and had hired help read to him after his blindness. He dictated the entirety of Paradise Lost. I can't imagine what this must have been like.

The story, very simply (and by the way, there is no such entity as Satan or 'Devil' in either the Tanakh or New Testament; it's an entirely modern concept), is that Satan is originally "Lucifer," the "Light Bearer," the "Morning Star," and dearest to God. That is, until God decides to invent this thing called "Man." Lucifer is placed second, and he is hurt, and justifiably so. No explanation, no meeting with God to outline the idea; Lucifer goes from first to second place. And so, he rebels, and is defeated and cast down into Hell.

And here is where Milton creates the greatest anti-hero of all time: Satan is no longer Lucifer, but he says "NO. I will not endure this without a fight !" And so, the struggle between good and evil, between submission and self-assertion, begins.

All Satan/Lucifer said, really, was Listen To Me. He didn't want to be God; he just wanted God to notice, and when that didn't happen, he decided to be noticed on his own.

That's what boxers do.

What we do. To say I Am.

But, there's a price to pay. The price is myself am hell.

The price you pay for being you, and obeying the nature that you can't help but have.

I used for reference (there must be tens of thousands of references to Milton) the Oxford Orgel and Goldberg edition. Their endnotes are terrific.

Me miserable! Which way shall I fly

Infinite wrath, and infinite despair?

Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell

John Milton, Paradise Lost, Book IV, Lines 73-75.

What it says to me, more than anything else, is how we seem to be condemned for what we are and yet what we cannot help being.

All Satan/Lucifer said, really, was Listen To Me. He didn't want to be God; he just wanted God to notice, and when that didn't happen, he decided to be noticed on his own.

That's what boxers do.

What we do. To say I Am.

But, there's a price to pay. The price is myself am hell.

The price you pay for being you, and obeying the nature that you can't help but have.

I used for reference (there must be tens of thousands of references to Milton) the Oxford Orgel and Goldberg edition. Their endnotes are terrific.

Mother Jones on Claressa Shields Post-Olympics

DrRck — Fri, 29 Mar 2013 10:52:57 -0000

http://www.motherjones.com/media/2013/03/claressa-shields-flint-photos-olympic-boxer-gold-medal?google_editors_picks=true

A very interesting article from Mother Jones about Shields' lack of an Olympics afterlife, i.e., no endorsements, recognition, etc (except for a free Camaro and $25,000 in award money).

She's still training, of course, or trying to anyway, preparing for the Nationals and then the 2016 Olympics, but the article gives the impression that she's having a bit of a tough time.

Anyway, it's a nice article, as much photo essay as write-up.

http://www.motherjones.com/media/2013/03/claressa-shields-flint-photos-olympic-boxer-gold-medal?google_editors_picks=true

A very interesting article from Mother Jones about Shields' lack of an Olympics afterlife, i.e., no endorsements, recognition, etc (except for a free Camaro and $25,000 in award money).

She's still training, of course, or trying to anyway, preparing for the Nationals and then the 2016 Olympics, but the article gives the impression that she's having a bit of a tough time.

Anyway, it's a nice article, as much photo essay as write-up.

Rousey-Carmouche

DrRck — Sun, 24 Feb 2013 11:45:04 -0000

Rousey-Carmouche

This really has to be read.

I'm sitting here, blearl-eyed and still fairly drunk, but this sounds like it was an amazing experience.

http://sports.yahoo.com/news/mma--ronda-rousey-liz-carmouche-ufc-157-saved-by-women-084642836.html

Tyson and Holyfield Deepen Their Bromance

DrRck — Sun, 17 Feb 2013 10:37:27 -0000

Tyson and Holyfield Deepen Their Bromance

Mike Tyson and Evander Holyfield linked up yet again in Chicago, when Tyson showed up during a promo for Holyfield's barbeque sauce.

Points of interest:

1. They now love each other.

2. Holyfield seems to acknowledge that his boxing career is over, since he only wants to fight guys in his own age bracket (i.e., guys named "Klitschko").

3. Tyson apparently didn't try the BBQ sauce on any part of Holyfield's body.

http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-400_162-57569790/mike-tyson-evander-holyfield-meet-again/?google_editors_picks=true

Existentialism and Boxing

DrRck — Thu, 24 Jan 2013 14:50:00 -0000

Words move, music moves

Only in time; but that which is only living

Can only die.

--- T. S. Eliot, "Burnt Norton"

There is a very popular bit of pseudo-profundity in boxing, MMA, and martial arts in general (I presume it's also a rallying cry in "Tough Man" competitions as well, although I don't know this), allegedly from Nietzsche's Twilight of the Idols, to the effect that "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger." I first heard this from a very good friend, a fellow student and practitioner of what was, years ago, the very fearsome art of full-contact karate. It hurt, a lot at times, and I did not feel stronger as a result. This claim, as it stands, is perhaps a notch above the inanely inspirational idea that "pain is weakness leaving the body," an idea which is so metaphysical to me as to be inexplicable, and I am accustomed to metaphysics.

This "Nietzsche" quote is actually a shortened paraphrase popularized by G. Gorden Liddy, assistant to former U.S. President Richard Nixon. While the paraphrase is not terribly misleading, I think the idea is, and it may be important to keep in mind that Nietzsche had this idea shortly before his breakdown into insanity (he was defending an ill-treated horse at the time, and I think that counts for something).

In fact, there are plenty of things that, while not killing us, will weaken us, among them chronic illness, aging, despair and depression, addiction, and so on, unless we are in a position to challenge Pollyanna as masters of the silver lining. Being hit too many times as a boxer, especially in the head, is another.

Still, this got me to thinking about existentialism and boxing, and I think that there is in fact a legitimate connection, deeper than that of the fortune cookie variety.

The core of this connection is also from Nietzsche, appearing in three of his works (first in The Gay Science, but this isn't what you might expect from the title) but most famously in Thus Spoke Zarathustra (to me, a rather weird bit of nonsense that anticipated self-help books and TV show by at least 100 years): "God is dead." Rumor has it that God, hearing of this, noted that Nietzsche is also dead, so I guess there may be a trilogy in the works.

But this is not just a simplistic claim from an atheist's handbook, although it's been interpreted as such ad nauseum. So, what does it mean?

This next paragraph is an autobiographical digression, so skip it if you want.

When I was studying for my first degree, in philosophy, I went through just about all of it without much trouble: the pre-Socratics, Socrates and Plato, Aristotle, the medieval Christian and Muslim thinkers (we all got a kick out of Aquinas' Sic et Non, but then we were philosophy students, and very lonely), the Renaissance and all it meant, on to the excitement of the Enlightenment, and then to the confrontation between the British Empiricists like Hume and the Continental Rationalists (I think Spinoza was the greatest thinker who ever lived. Also, I once had a distant but direct descendant of Hume in one of my classes. Also a grandson of Paul Dirac, but that's another story), and on to modern linguistic philosophy and the philosophy of mathematics. I myself specialized in epistemology, logic, and the philosophy of science.

But I didn't at all understand Existentialism until I had been out of school for quite a while (4 degrees in total, 17 years, and working in retail and food service). This is partly because Existentialism is so diffuse as to almost, but not quite,constitute a false category. But more than than, it's much like Hellenistic philosophy, the depressive resignation of the Stoicism of Epictetus in the face of the conquest of Classic Greece by the Romans.(another story in its own right).

Here's my point: Existentialism is like Hellenistic philosophy, in that it's not composed of words, except perhaps after the fact, so much as experience, things you can never learn except as they happen to you.

We are, I think, all existentialists, whenever we face a test, whether something as mundane as as an exam at school, or something as shattering as the loss of a job with no resources to fall back on, or an ultimate health crisis that may or even will with certainty mean our ultimate end. It may be a crisis of conscience. Or, in my view, it may be a fight. The existential moments are those which are filled with feelings of aloneness, of despair, of fear, of the feeling that a moment has come when there is no "beyond" to fall back on, to rescue us. There is an abyss that is terrifying to face alone, but we must.

These are moments of "encountering yourself," as Satre put it. He, of course, saw the worst abyss of modern times, namely the Nazi occupation of France and much of Europe and he was part of the resistance and saw its toll (he did not see the acts of Stalin in the Ukraine; the French resistance had their hands full). But, this is not about comparing boxing to the nightmare of World War II, because there is no comparison, and that would be absurd and offensive. But, this is about confronting the self in the moment of an event in life charged with the possibility of failure, loss and disaster, death and meaninglessness, and the fear that these will bring.

So, the single biggest existentialist question is, "What will I do when I am completely on my own against something that I can't face alone?"

We'll all face this, certainly multiple times. This is what "God is dead" means. To me, the central existentialist imperative has always been 'What happens when I have nothing but myself?" This, in my experience, doesn't grow on you as a realization; it is a moment that hits between the eyes. It can be when, suffering a chronic or terminal illness, you are told that medicine has reached its limits and you will certainly die; a moment, late at night, after a divorce or separation, when you realize there is no do-over (the moving finger writes, and having writ moves on, nor all thy piety nor wit will lure it back to cancel half a line, nor all they tears wash out a word of it); the death of a loved one; the imminent prospect of homelessness. Any moment when we are desperate for rescue, for help, facing something we can't imagine enduring alone; it is, of course, the moment of a death of some sort, such as that recounted in Matthew 27: 45-46, when Jesus realizes that his God has left him alone to hang on the cross.

These moments, depending on your perspective and experience, clearly vary in "objective" significance and import, but they are real to those who live through them. These are the moments when an individual is truly "authentic," as Kierkegaard put it. Perhaps this is the point of Zarathustra.

It's hard to imagine more moments of such authenticity, other than facing you own certain and unavoidable execution, than stepping into a boxing ring.

Boxing is full of such moments, and you can pick the ones you like. I think of the Ward-Gatti fights, the Robinson-LaMotta fights. the second Louis-Schmeling fight (the world hinged on that, symbolically, for so many people); just pick one, and I won't quibble. Maybe Juan Manuel Marquez getting up so many times in his first fight with Pacquiao; maybe a great fighter sitting on the canvas, shaking his head slightly, silently, indicating that he's simply seen his limit.

For me, the moment (yes, moment) of raw confrontation with nothing was between rounds 14 and 15 of ALi-Frazier III. Ali wanted to quite, because he had seen Hell. Frazier, blind now in both eyes, was ready to continue. Futch made his own decision, on his own, and no one would take that decision away from him. It was his.

Olbas was kind enough to draw my attention to the 1998 Gatti-Manfredy fight, in which Gatti (as usual) was cut very badly above his left eye. Supposedly, although I did not hear this, when he was told the cut was to the bone, he said that was good, because it couldn't get any deeper. I did, however, hear George Foreman, who was commentating, mention that in the dressing room before a fight, every fighter faces the fear of being hurt, but Gatti always knew he would get hurt in every fight. I find this remarkable.

Examples can multiply rapidly, but I hope I made my point reasonably clear.

It's hard to know where to stop, which I suppose is a minor existential crisis, in itself, since when you stop writing you stop living in a sense. I'll close with one more observation:

Boxing is a terrible thing.

Words move, music moves

Only in time; but that which is only living

Can only die.

--- T. S. Eliot, "Burnt Norton"

Still, this got me to thinking about existentialism and boxing, and I think that there is in fact a legitimate connection, deeper than that of the fortune cookie variety.

But this is not just a simplistic claim from an atheist's handbook, although it's been interpreted as such ad nauseum. So, what does it mean?

This next paragraph is an autobiographical digression, so skip it if you want.

So, the single biggest existentialist question is, "What will I do when I am completely on my own against something that I can't face alone?"

It's hard to imagine more moments of such authenticity, other than facing you own certain and unavoidable execution, than stepping into a boxing ring.

Examples can multiply rapidly, but I hope I made my point reasonably clear.

It's hard to know where to stop, which I suppose is a minor existential crisis, in itself, since when you stop writing you stop living in a sense. I'll close with one more observation:

Boxing is a terrible thing.

Late night musings on Bach and boxing.

DrRck — Sun, 13 Jan 2013 06:07:27 -0000

I should apologize for this post ahead of time, because I am really quite profoundly drunk.

But, I've recently been trying to explain Bach to someone, and this is not easy to do.

I have a fairly extensive music background: my father was a wonderful keyboardist and baritone; I became, as I was told, one of the best classical guitarists on the East Coast..

But Bach is different from other music. like Chopin or Mozart. His music is terribly complex, but so extraordinarily beautiful. It really defies description, which is, I suppose, why I have been asked to explain it.

This is what I chose to start, a wonderful analysis of Bach's "Little Fugue" in Gm. This is a piano version, very nice and clear in the separation of the voices, but with no real power.

Here is that graphic:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pVadl4ocX0M&NR=1&feature=fvwp

Then, there is the real power of the organ, same piece:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zO8i5D2uz84

My favorite organist, BTW, is Marie-Clair Alain, a master of Bach.

I think about boxing when I see and hear these things. There is certainly a structure to boxing, especially beautiful boxing.

Boxing is not just athletic ability, and we all know that. It is understanding. as well. I remember when I was preparing to perform several of the Bach lute suites. I just sweat bullets, there was so much to worry about all at once.

There was that structure, the basics of what you do in order to even function, and that a hard, hard thing to earn. Years. Then, there's the inspiration, the artistry, what happens when you get on that stage and know that no one but you will ever be able to do what you a re about to do. And that is a terrible, frightening thing to face.

I think that this is where the existentialism and boxing piece will enter.

I should apologize for this post ahead of time, because I am really quite profoundly drunk.

But, I've recently been trying to explain Bach to someone, and this is not easy to do.

I have a fairly extensive music background: my father was a wonderful keyboardist and baritone; I became, as I was told, one of the best classical guitarists on the East Coast..

This is what I chose to start, a wonderful analysis of Bach's "Little Fugue" in Gm. This is a piano version, very nice and clear in the separation of the voices, but with no real power.

Here is that graphic:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pVadl4ocX0M&NR=1&feature=fvwp

Then, there is the real power of the organ, same piece:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zO8i5D2uz84

My favorite organist, BTW, is Marie-Clair Alain, a master of Bach.

I think about boxing when I see and hear these things. There is certainly a structure to boxing, especially beautiful boxing.

I think that this is where the existentialism and boxing piece will enter.

Comedy Relief: How the Human Hand Evolved for Boxing

DrRck — Wed, 19 Dec 2012 22:35:57 -0000

As the title states, this is simply for comic relief. I just moments ago came across this article, summarizing a recent publication, and I thought that there are few people on this earth who would even begin to be interested in this slapstick, but there may be some bored and lonely BLHer who may check this out from sheer desperation.

In evolutionary biology, convenient ad hoc tales are referred to as Kiplingesque "just so" stories. This one, the link to which is posted below, is to me a remarkable example of one.

In brief, the authors of this study studied the effectiveness ("strength and stability") of fists in 12 modern males trained in martial arts or boxing, against the same characteristics of the hand in modern chimpanzees if they tried to throw a punch (which I have to emphasize that they never do).

The authors found that the shorter fingers of the modern human allowed greater stability, and increased force, than the longer fingers of chimpanzees would allow (again, I have to say, if they even tried to do this, which they do not).

As an evolutionary biologist who has taught human anatomy and evolution for some years, my favorite line is by the functional anatomist at GW University:

More work needs to be done to make this a compelling argument

Some hallucinatory drugs, and a very tolerant and forgiving attitude, will come in handy as well.

This is not representative of even fringe evolutionary biology, and I still can't quite believe that this wasn't a joke. In particular, I feel for the medical student Morgan, who will come to deeply regret this in later life, starting with his Spring term in med school.

Here is the link:

BTW, it's not really worth checking out:

http://www.sciencenews.org/view/generic/id/347191/description/Man_the_martial_artist

In evolutionary biology, convenient ad hoc tales are referred to as Kiplingesque "just so" stories. This one, the link to which is posted below, is to me a remarkable example of one.

As an evolutionary biologist who has taught human anatomy and evolution for some years, my favorite line is by the functional anatomist at GW University:

More work needs to be done to make this a compelling argument

Some hallucinatory drugs, and a very tolerant and forgiving attitude, will come in handy as well.

Here is the link:

BTW, it's not really worth checking out:

http://www.sciencenews.org/view/generic/id/347191/description/Man_the_martial_artist

Boxers and Making Weight

DrRck — Thu, 11 Oct 2012 21:51:01 -0000

Lance Pugmire has written a very good article on the matter of fighters trying to make a weigh well below what is safe by any reasonable standards.

We've discussed this before, and I among many have argued that the custom, habit, expectation, or whatever you want to call it, has gotten way out of hand. The article describes some apparently customary practices that are nothing short of unbelievable, and "heroic" only in that same way that someone might think runway models are "heroic" in starving themselves into skeletal acceptability.

I, for one, am very glad to see this

This quote is a good lead-in question, and then I'll give the link:

"It's a medical crisis," said Dr. Paul Wallace, a California State Athletic Commission ringside doctor. "There's not a credible diet that says you can lose 10% of your weight in a month, much less one day.

"But it's not a sport crisis because people have seen boxers like Fernando Vargas, Roberto Duran, Ricky Hatton take off massive weight, still come back and give a good fight and ask, 'How bad can it be?' "

http://www.latimes.com/sports/boxing/la-sp-boxing-20121011,0,7362948.story?track=lat-pick

Stieglitz-Abraham

DrRck — Sun, 26 Aug 2012 21:33:48 -0000

In the interests of disclosure, I should say at the outset that I'm only writing this because I need something to read about this Saturday's super middleweight fight. Let this be a lesson to BLH.

Also, pardon the long preamble; I have no idea where it came from, so I just went with it. I don't really know what it has to do with anything either. But, at least now I have something to read.

Arthur Abraham is not a guy who I think has fared well in recent years, especially since the Super Six, except if we limit ourselves to the US audience, and that includes me (if there's another piece of the US audience out there, then write your own stuff). He did wonderfully well from 2003 to 2009, fighting people I'd mostly never heard of in lovely European places I'd mostly never heard of, except for those some travel agent might have told me to put on a bucket list and just get to, for god's sake, before it's too late. Then came the Super 6, not to be confused with the economy motel, and he was "King Arthur," with the mythomania that we can all aspire to in the absence of evidence, and the carefully selected video clips that previous "living myths" were too dead, too long ago, to benefit from. Like King Arthur, for example. Or the Green Knight, although I still harbor some doubts about him, especially regarding the decapitations. Pix, or it didn't happen.

Boy, he looked good. Careful, crafty, patient, very quasi-orthodox, no flash just substance thank you very much. I loved it. The Eastern Europeans, the dismal and suffering castoffs of the laughably (except for all the dead people there) inept consequences of the seemingly endless Cold War, had suddenly become the ripened fruits of this tortured social engineering, and they would finally make good here in the sunlight. Like the Klitschkos, who are very much like King Arthur in ways that are too complicated to go into here, but should be obvious.

So, I watched. He would be fighting Americans, which was the whole point of boxing, as we all know. Boy, was he a stinker. DQ'd in the most blatant manner against Dirrell, lost to Froch (who, besides being alarmingly good, I know is British, and therefore European, but of the Western persuasion, so that doesn't really count, kind of like the French but pleasanter, or the West Germans, who have been very nice for such a long time; I really can't think of anyone else at the moment, but my point is clear. Americanish, is what I'm saying); TKO'd someone named Bozic (my computer won't let me make all those funny diacritical marks, but they don't really mean anything), and then got trounced by Ward.

He had a couple pf other fights after that, but who the hell cares?

So, settling into his European boxing retirement home, Abraham fought Robert Stieglitz on Saturday. I won't go into Stieglitz very much, frankly because I don't know what he's really doing here to begin with, although I will say that he has a nice boxing style against the rock-like citadel that is either Eastern Europe in general, or Abraham in particular, either one. I will say, however, that since I think that the hope of American boxing lies in Europe (preferably as easterly as possible, although some points more westerly may do, say Nottingham or Manchester, and you can go ahead and nominate others in the comments, if there are any), I was interested to see just how abysmally bad Abraham was, and how much of a laughing stock we'd all made of ourselves fawning over him prior to the Econolodge affair. And Stieglitz, who I have to remind myself was also in the ring last night, is a nice boxer and a champion of something. I'm not.

So, here, without editing or pretty words, is my roughly round-by-round assessment of the Steiglitz (I should have mentioned, he was actually some kind of champion in this fight and so should be mentioned first)-Abraham (who used to be a champion of some kind, but isn't now, so should go second). I say "roughly," because I may have missed a few things when I passed out (briefly; nothing serious).

WARNING: THIS IS UNEDITED. BE CAREFUL. DO NOT READ ALOUD.

Ring announcements. Stieglitz looks nervous, but hard to tell compared to Abraham, who just looks like a hitman on another job. I won't make any comments about Cortiz.

Rd 1: Abraham very focused, some hard rights, Stieglitz moving and boxing, looks unsettled through the first half. Abraham showing a lot of initiative, more offense and not much emphasis on defense. Stieglitz settles down toward the end of the round, Abraham manages a hard left. Abraham looking for power shots, Stieglitz trying to box. Almost all Abraham.

Abraham 10-9.

Rd 2: Stieglitz starts strong, looking settled, throwing good combinations. Abraham looking unimaginative already. Stieglitz outboxing Abraham against the ropes, hitting with body shots as well as combinations. Abraham nails Stieglitz with a right to the body, Stieglitz swarms over Abraham at the end. Overwhelming Stieglitz round.

Stieglitz 10-9, 19-19

Between rounds, the physicist MIchio Kaku sits down next to a blond who someday hopes to be picked out of a crowd, a weirdly Britney Spears-esque girl with strawberry licorice colored hair, and a blond Demi Moore. That's why people become physicists. Along with the money and fame, of course.

Rd 3: Stieglitz jumps out at Abraham, hitting him with lefts and right without much answer, but Abraham is starting to look like a block of concrete. Abraham throws a few flicking jabs, Stieglitz circling to his left and doing most of the fighting. Abraham throws a hard right and misses, Stieglitz spins him around and counters. Stieglitz with a good combo ending with a hard right, Abraham just follows, throwing occasionally. S is showing 10 times more skill, but A is snapping S's head back when he lands. S has no apparent effect. S with right hands to the body, some cuffing, right uppercut attempt. A swarms, S hits behind the head, gets a reminder from Cortez.A comes back from the break with a hard right from range, hey these guys are fighting! A chasing S, S evading and throwing back combinations.

S 10-9 S 29-28.

This must be either Russian or American TV (with funny accents); there are no ringside shots of hot girls. Actually, it must be Russian.

Rd 4: They square off in the center. S has to move more. He throws a good straight right, but A nails him with a left-right. S is still toe-to-toe, though. Center ring jab trading now. S tries an overhand right, blocked. S starts to take the initiative, throws a. A has begun to turtle up in that defense.

WOW! Right to body by A followed by right to head, S is hurt. Really hurt, twisting his body around to evade punches. AS chases, then lets him off the hook, goes back to jabbing. Two more rights to the head by A, S is managing to move and stay away. S returning shots, A has backed off. S chases A for the last few seconds.

A 10-9, 38-38.

Between rounds, S doesn't look very good. Meanwhile, A reminds me of the poster I saw (someone find it, I don't know how to embed pictures) captioned "Hit monkey takes no joy in his work." A looks as uninvolved emotionally. He also doesn't look like anyone has hit him yet.

Rd 5: S just jumps at A, driving him into the ropes. A turtles up, then drops his hands when it's over and invites some more. A stands against the ropes with his hands down, S with a lot of body movement, looking for an opening. S whaled away for the the first half of the round, now they're in the center of the ring and A is starting to answer back. Some brief headlocks, Cortez tries to get into the action, now separates them. They clinch, and Cortez calls them to the center of the ring to complain. All good now. S still throwing first, but hitting nothing of consequence. Except a left to the body right there. A with a big right, he just looks for that. Another right by A, and a left, S against the ropes, another right, S is in trouble. S moves away, has his feet, A lands another right, but S is taking it well. S fighting back with jabs, covering, and some body shots. He has no power, but he can fight.

A 10-9 A 48-47.

Rd 6: Both cautious to start,. S goes to work again. A throws some good jabs through S's guard, S with a left to the body. A watching with his hands down, S trying to come in. S is moving and boxing, A is like a cement pillar, now A throws a right to the body. A throws two more rights to the head, both land I think. A launches left-right combinations, but reaching. GOOD right uppercut by S, but A comes back battering S.

I originally thought S had that round, but I just looked at it again after reading my notes, and I think it was A.

A 10-9, A 58-56.

Between rounds, S looks battered. A looks like the dispassionate Hitmonkey.

Rd 7: Cautious first few seconds, but S has A on the ropes again. Several L-Rs by S, now they're in the center of the ring, low activity, I think they're both getting a little gassed. S attacks again, eats a couple of combinations for his efforts, knocks A off balance with a left, or maybe A felt that a bit, because he tied up (he dopes that anyway, so it's hard to tell). S really nailing A now with shots to the head and a left to the body in the center of the ring, A looks droopy. A hits S with a good, not great, right, but it got felt. S is fighting, though, and he's got this round unless a miracle happens.

S 10-9, A 67-66.

Between rounds. Holy shit, that woman has to be at least 70 years old, in a pink dress with pink lipstick and lips pumped full of pigfat. With her billionaire husband, who's now explaining something to her, maybe how lightbulbs are changed by the little people.

Shouting at A in his corner. Maybe abut starting each round sooner than the 1:30 mark.

Rd 8: S all over A again, that's the pattern. S whales away in the corner, A takes it and doesn't seem to care, shrugs his shoulders, S shrugs back, S invites A to get off the damned ropes, Cortez jumps in to put an end to the sign language. Now A fights back a little sooner, S getting caught with A's jab when he tries to move in to trap him on the ropes, which I suppose is marginally different from what's happened until now. Hey, A is really after S now, landing some good shots!

S 10-9, 76-76

Rd 9: S starts the ball rolling again, boxes well as long as what he's fighting doesn't hit back. A using his jab well in the center of the ring, keeping S away, S has A in a corner again, slams away at elbows and gloves. S's face looks a little pulped, A looks like he did before the bell for round one. S landing, pushing A into the ropes again. It's hard to believe that anything S is landing is having any real effect. S lands a good right, it just comes and goes. A finally starts to fight back but way too late.

S 10-9, 86-85.

Rd 10:Round starts with neither fighter jumping into it, circling and feinting mostly. S wakes up, attacks again. A lands some good shots in the center, S answers. A seems a little more aggressive, but neither one is very ambitious. Cut now over S's right eye.

A 10-9, 95-95.

Rd 11: Anther quick start for S, lays more pain on A's gloves, A shrugs and smiles. S is a game, game fighter. A off the ropes, unloading now. Center of the ring, throwing for the sake of it whether anything lands or not. This has settled into an almost unbearable pattern of tedium. A stalking S, landing some very good shots, S seemed lost for a bit.

A 10-9, A 105-104.

Rd 12: Thank God. Even pace, neither seems to have a fire lit under him. A real back and forth, S in control for a few seconds, then A. A looks like he's dominating, although he takes the time to dance around and goad the crowd. S then traps him on the ropes.

A barely.

A 10-9, A 116-113.

That's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.

In the interests of disclosure, I should say at the outset that I'm only writing this because I need something to read about this Saturday's super middleweight fight. Let this be a lesson to BLH.

Also, pardon the long preamble; I have no idea where it came from, so I just went with it. I don't really know what it has to do with anything either. But, at least now I have something to read.

He had a couple pf other fights after that, but who the hell cares?

WARNING: THIS IS UNEDITED. BE CAREFUL. DO NOT READ ALOUD.

Ring announcements. Stieglitz looks nervous, but hard to tell compared to Abraham, who just looks like a hitman on another job. I won't make any comments about Cortiz.

Abraham 10-9.

Stieglitz 10-9, 19-19

S 10-9 S 29-28.

This must be either Russian or American TV (with funny accents); there are no ringside shots of hot girls. Actually, it must be Russian.

A 10-9, 38-38.

A 10-9 A 48-47.

I originally thought S had that round, but I just looked at it again after reading my notes, and I think it was A.

A 10-9, A 58-56.

Between rounds, S looks battered. A looks like the dispassionate Hitmonkey.

S 10-9, A 67-66.

Shouting at A in his corner. Maybe abut starting each round sooner than the 1:30 mark.

S 10-9, 76-76

S 10-9, 86-85.

A 10-9, 95-95.

A 10-9, A 105-104.

A barely.

A 10-9, A 116-113.

That's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.

A Song for London

DrRck — Tue, 14 Aug 2012 02:17:20 -0000

Actually, I lied in the heading just to attract attention.

I would like to thank London for the enormous effort put into these Games, and I'm dreadfully sorry for what will happen next.

I caught snippets of the opening and closing ceremonies, and at the same time I just happened to be reading Ben Jonson (a statement which is believable by, I estimate, no one) when I came across this line:

"No country's mirth is better than our own."

I think this is true.

Actually, I lied in the heading just to attract attention.

I would like to thank London for the enormous effort put into these Games, and I'm dreadfully sorry for what will happen next.

"No country's mirth is better than our own."

I think this is true.

Kelefah Sanneh (The New Yorker) Assesses Victor Ortiz's Sanity

DrRck — Tue, 26 Jun 2012 12:47:24 -0000

I just found a wonderful, short article in The New Yorker, of all places, by Kelefah Sanneh about, of all things, Victor Ortiz, his overall mental health, and by extension the mental health of boxing --- well, it's fans and practitioners, anyway. Here is the link:

http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/sportingscene/2012/06/victor-ortiz-jaw.html?mbid=gnep&google_editors_picks=true

There are some lovely observations about Ortiz in here, worthy of extended quoting (with proper attribution, of course, which may avoid charges of plagiarism but perhaps not of copyright, but here goes):

When he walked away from Maidana, he made the now-infamous "I don't deserve this" remark," but also mentioned such silly notions (for a boxer) as wanting to be able to form an intelligible sentence when he was older. Sanneh notes this, and goes onto say:

Everything he said sounded reasonable, but none of it endeared him to boxing fans, who interpreted the interview as proof that Ortiz wasn’t tough—or reckless—enough to be great. Boxing is an unreasonable sport, and it needs unreasonable fighters to satisfy its unreasonable fans. Apparently, Ortiz didn’t qualify.

After tracing a bit of Ortiz's career afterward, Sanneh gets to Saturday, and the act by Ortiz that engendered a (to me) surprising amount of uncharacteristically testy exchanges on BLH about heart, and whether Ortiz has any, or even just one. Sanneh notes Ortiz's exciting style, his foul that night, and then, of course, the broken jaw and what happened next:

With three rounds left, Ortiz sat in his corner and considered his options. He felt sure that, during the ninth round, López had broken his jaw. And so, as the bell was struck to start the tenth, he gestured for the referee, Jack Reiss.

"My jaw’s broken," Ortiz said.

"Your what’s broken?" Reiss asked. "Your jaw? Are you stopping the fight?

Sanneh notes that other fighters have gutted it out and fought through broken jaws, and in particular mentions Abraham, as have so many other in the past few days. But Ortiz evidently marches to the beat of a different drummer. Sanneh points out that in the post-fight interview, he could have made the thin attempt, however transparent it would have been to salvage his reputation by insisting that his corner stopped it when he wanted to fight on. But, he didn't. He just said "My coaches wanted me to keep going." Score one for honesty.

Anyway, the last paragraph speaks for itself:

In the ring, López celebrated his surprise victory—by far the biggest win of his career, in by far his biggest fight. Meanwhile, Showtime’s cameras followed Ortiz out of the ring and into his dressing room, where he examined his mouth in the mirror and then dropped to his knees, resting his forehead on a table. He doesn’t deserve to be getting beaten up like this—no fighter does. The difference is, Ortiz knows it, and can’t seem to forget it.

Sanneh is right. No fighter deserves this.

http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/sportingscene/2012/06/victor-ortiz-jaw.html?mbid=gnep&google_editors_picks=true

Everything he said sounded reasonable, but none of it endeared him to boxing fans, who interpreted the interview as proof that Ortiz wasn’t tough—or reckless—enough to be great. Boxing is an unreasonable sport, and it needs unreasonable fighters to satisfy its unreasonable fans. Apparently, Ortiz didn’t qualify.

With three rounds left, Ortiz sat in his corner and considered his options. He felt sure that, during the ninth round, López had broken his jaw. And so, as the bell was struck to start the tenth, he gestured for the referee, Jack Reiss.

"My jaw’s broken," Ortiz said.

"Your what’s broken?" Reiss asked. "Your jaw? Are you stopping the fight?

Anyway, the last paragraph speaks for itself:

In the ring, López celebrated his surprise victory—by far the biggest win of his career, in by far his biggest fight. Meanwhile, Showtime’s cameras followed Ortiz out of the ring and into his dressing room, where he examined his mouth in the mirror and then dropped to his knees, resting his forehead on a table. He doesn’t deserve to be getting beaten up like this—no fighter does. The difference is, Ortiz knows it, and can’t seem to forget it.

Sanneh is right. No fighter deserves this.

I Have No Scale to Measure Tragedy

DrRck — Wed, 30 May 2012 14:24:41 -0000

There were two events that disrupted the boxing world this past weekend, the death of Johnny Tapia and the career-ending motorycle accident of Paul Williams.

I have no way to compare these events, although for some reason I want to. I don't know why, and there wouldn't be a point to it anyway; I guess it's a matter of trying to sort these things out. I can't do it, but I can think about it.

I can't imagine what Tapia's life was like, because what I've read seemed like an account of Satan's idea of a Funhouse. I was marginally aware of him as a fighter, but had no idea what the rest of his life had been like until his death inspired accounts of it. I don't know what it was like to have been raised as a "pitbull," as he himself said; to see my mother abducted (and later murdered); to have believed my father had been murdered before my birth, only to discover only two years ago that he was alive but never wanted to say so; to be so fragmented by drugs that I would live my life as two different personalities. And I also don't know what it was like to keep going against these odds, and to win championships and know success. But, maybe, as a way of life, knowing no other, it would have just seemed like the way things had fallen out for me, and that's what I'd have to live with until I didn't anymore. I doubt I could have, but then, I don't know the course of my own life beforehand, and neither did Tapia. But, maybe he wanted it to come to some end; Eugene Banks gave a short account of a meeting he had with Tapia, which I found just heartbreaking, but it also sounded full of courage, acceptance, and understanding. I recently watched his fight with Ayala, courtesy of Matt Mosley, and it is a remarkable experience.

Williams is far from dead, and I am very, very grateful for that, but he will face a life nothing like the one he led before, and I suspect he will have terrible, hard, hard days in privacy, as he learns to live with this particular hand he's been dealt. He has a family, who can support and help him, but this will be no simple matter for them either, and I have to also think about what they will face as well.He was such an exciting fighter, and had such a remarkable early reputation as being a guy no one in his division would ever want to face. He had flaws, as we found out later, but I think that's partly what made him so exciting as a fighter, coupled with his obvious talent. I would hazard a guess that a lot of us were looking forward to the Alvarez fight, because there was the double interest of seeing how such a new and promising prospect as Alvarez would fare against a guy like Williams, who was so clearly so good, and who to me at least always looked like he was just about to do something spectacular, and often did. He did that something in the first Martinez fight, which I rewatched recently thanks to Oli Goldstein. Man, it is a classic. So, I don't know how, or if, I can measure these things. I guess I can only consider them against my own life.

There were two events that disrupted the boxing world this past weekend, the death of Johnny Tapia and the career-ending motorycle accident of Paul Williams.

HOWLkins

DrRck — Tue, 24 Apr 2012 13:43:07 -0000

HOWLkins

A self-paean, spontaneously generatedby Bernard Hopkins on April 23rd, 2012

I’m here to answer some questions.

So I’m not going to get into a dog and cat fight and I ain’t the cat.

At the end of the day,

I really don’t have too much to say

but this is protocol.

But right now it’s too much for me to say.

The only thing I want to do is this show.

Whoever can make it, make it.

Whoever don’t, don’t, but it will be on TV.

Because I’m a legend.

Just watch what the establishment might do

because there’s another person that will want to …

a list of so many young fighters and we never saw them again.

Some ran into the trees

understand what I’m up against.

And when you understand

that for years and years and years of my career,

I don’t think as far as you all do.

I know where to think

and I know where to cut it off.

I just want to lay the platform out there

for everybody who’s on the air

listening that I understand

that you have to dig in the bag of tricks

or a rabbit out of the hat,

because it’s what else are you going to ask me?

I will see a rabbit out of a hat.

So you got to find these things to create what, a conversation.

You’re going to want to come up and shake my hand

and tell me how great I am.

And that’s when I’m going to say, “Thank you,” and go home and sleep in my bed

that I haven’t been in for nine weeks.

if I was any other fighter, from top to bottom,

it would be already there before you know the next move.

The next move would’ve not been even a question of where that person would go, where that fighter would go.

But see, I didn’t already establish a lot of things

that you can’t really see

things will be great and dandy after this fight

because they’ll find an excuse to say,

“Well Chad Dawson wasn’t.”

There’s one thing everybody on this line can understands and knows;

But when it comes to me, I guess the predictors; they know what my track record is.

They know what my track record is.

I don’t have to repeat that.

I’ll just say we’re on the countdown right now, and any other

sticky coat questions or scenarios.

I’ll just continue to kick the naysayer’s ass

in and out of the ring,

because that’s the task

that I’ve always been up against.

you’re dealing with Bernard Hopkins.

You’re dealing with Bernard Hopkins.

There is no home court advantage

for Bernard Hopkins.

A lot of us want to be a lot of things

that we can’t be yet or never.

That’s the game changer, and instead of

six, five, four, three, two, one or

even up to eight, nine, ten and 11,

that’s the game changer

The rules are different for me, man.

The rules are different.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, I’m too much of a veteran to go for that okie doke.

There’s a game out of the ring.

I hear the whispers.

It’s all a game.

Why do you think I’ve been quiet?

Because to be quiet, until this media phone conference—

because if I don’t say anything

and I don’t do anything

then they can’t accuse me and charge me,

“Well you know, Bernard, witness here.”

Tell your granddaughter, your grandson,

your kids for the older guys,

you’ll miss what you took for granted when time gone.

I’m gonna rewrite the book.

So I’m trying to eliminate a monster

let the cat out of the bag since we kind of close.

It’s not a crime. It’s very unique, I would say.

It’s very strange in a good way,

if strange can be mentioned in a good thing.

So they rely on other excuses

to downplay Bernard Hopkins’ uniqueness

HOWLkins

A self-paean, spontaneously generatedby Bernard Hopkins on April 23rd, 2012

I’m here to answer some questions.

So I’m not going to get into a dog and cat fight and I ain’t the cat.

At the end of the day,

I really don’t have too much to say

but this is protocol.

But right now it’s too much for me to say.

The only thing I want to do is this show.

Whoever can make it, make it.

Whoever don’t, don’t, but it will be on TV.

Because I’m a legend.

Just watch what the establishment might do

because there’s another person that will want to …

a list of so many young fighters and we never saw them again.

Some ran into the trees

understand what I’m up against.

And when you understand

that for years and years and years of my career,

I don’t think as far as you all do.

I know where to think

and I know where to cut it off.

I just want to lay the platform out there

for everybody who’s on the air

listening that I understand

that you have to dig in the bag of tricks

or a rabbit out of the hat,

because it’s what else are you going to ask me?

I will see a rabbit out of a hat.

So you got to find these things to create what, a conversation.

You’re going to want to come up and shake my hand

and tell me how great I am.

And that’s when I’m going to say, “Thank you,” and go home and sleep in my bed

that I haven’t been in for nine weeks.

if I was any other fighter, from top to bottom,

it would be already there before you know the next move.

The next move would’ve not been even a question of where that person would go, where that fighter would go.

But see, I didn’t already establish a lot of things

that you can’t really see

things will be great and dandy after this fight

because they’ll find an excuse to say,

“Well Chad Dawson wasn’t.”

There’s one thing everybody on this line can understands and knows;

But when it comes to me, I guess the predictors; they know what my track record is.

They know what my track record is.

I don’t have to repeat that.

I’ll just say we’re on the countdown right now, and any other

sticky coat questions or scenarios.

I’ll just continue to kick the naysayer’s ass

in and out of the ring,

because that’s the task

that I’ve always been up against.

you’re dealing with Bernard Hopkins.

You’re dealing with Bernard Hopkins.

There is no home court advantage

for Bernard Hopkins.

A lot of us want to be a lot of things

that we can’t be yet or never.

That’s the game changer, and instead of

six, five, four, three, two, one or

even up to eight, nine, ten and 11,

that’s the game changer

The rules are different for me, man.

The rules are different.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, I’m too much of a veteran to go for that okie doke.

There’s a game out of the ring.

I hear the whispers.

It’s all a game.

Why do you think I’ve been quiet?

Because to be quiet, until this media phone conference—

because if I don’t say anything

and I don’t do anything

then they can’t accuse me and charge me,

“Well you know, Bernard, witness here.”

Tell your granddaughter, your grandson,

your kids for the older guys,

you’ll miss what you took for granted when time gone.

I’m gonna rewrite the book.

So I’m trying to eliminate a monster

let the cat out of the bag since we kind of close.

It’s not a crime. It’s very unique, I would say.

It’s very strange in a good way,

if strange can be mentioned in a good thing.

So they rely on other excuses

to downplay Bernard Hopkins’ uniqueness

Klitschko-Haye Weirdness from the New Zealand Herald

DrRck — Thu, 30 Jun 2011 22:51:34 -0000

A very short bit.

I came across this earlier today, and I thought it was entertaining enough to share:

http://www.nzherald.co.nz/boxing/news/article.cfm?c_id=23&objectid=10735479

According to the article, Haye and K were due for back-to-back training sessions. Haye was up first, postured in a southpaw stance, and then threw just one punch before hanging it up, while Klitschko watched. Then, Haye left, without so much as a how-do-you-do. Intimations of psychological warfare ooze out of every corner of this.

Klitschko then spent an hour in training, and declared himself "fed up" with Haye, suspecting that Haye spends his time in his hotel room, brooding over what else he can do to possibly rattle Wladimir.

This is all interspersed with the usual humdrum references to images of t-shirts advocating or promising decapitations, and allusions to unpleasant public comments.

A very short bit.

I came across this earlier today, and I thought it was entertaining enough to share:

http://www.nzherald.co.nz/boxing/news/article.cfm?c_id=23&objectid=10735479

This is all interspersed with the usual humdrum references to images of t-shirts advocating or promising decapitations, and allusions to unpleasant public comments.

Bad Refereeing: 1,800 years ago

DrRck — Tue, 21 Jun 2011 00:32:31 -0000

We complain about bad refs now, but this story involved more than the loss of a '0' on a fighter's record.

The fighter was Diodorus, a gladiator in Turkey during the height of the Roman empire. The battle was with an opponent named Dimitrius, and there was a very bad call.

The evidence is a gravestone for Diodorus, erected perhaps by family or friends, which blames his death on a bad call by a referee (a "summa rudis"). The gravestone shows a gladiator, presumably Diodorus holding two swords and standing over an opponent who appears to be surrendering. There is a rather bitter inscription, which you can read by clicking on the link below: it has only recently been deciphered, but it seems to capture a pretty raw deal.

Apparently, gladiatorial contests were often or always refereed, and there was a set of fairly complex rules governing these fights. One of them, familiar to all modern fighters and fight fans, concerned a "slip." It appears as though if a fighter slipped in combat, rather than being knocked down (or worse), there was a time-out and he was allowed to get up, retrieve his weapons, and continue the fight.

As far as archaeologists and historians can tell, the inscription strongly suggests that Diodorus had beaten Dimitrius in a fair fight, had at least knocked him down, and had captured his weapons. Dimitrius had surrendered, and so the fight was over, and that should have been that.

Unfortunately for Diodorus, the summa rudis called a slip for Dimitrius. This apparently nullified his surrender, allowed him to get back up, and allowed him to reclaim his weapons and shield. It also meant the fight had to continue.

It did resume, and it seems that Diodorus ended up on the short end of a fight he might have won: he was either killed on the spot by Dimitrius, or so badly wounded that he died shortly thereafter.

Here's the link: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/43465625/ns/technology_and_science-science/

We complain about bad refs now, but this story involved more than the loss of a '0' on a fighter's record.

The fighter was Diodorus, a gladiator in Turkey during the height of the Roman empire. The battle was with an opponent named Dimitrius, and there was a very bad call.

It did resume, and it seems that Diodorus ended up on the short end of a fight he might have won: he was either killed on the spot by Dimitrius, or so badly wounded that he died shortly thereafter.

Here's the link: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/43465625/ns/technology_and_science-science/