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by David P. Greisman - MONTREAL – There are enemies and there are rivals. Jean Pascal and Chad Dawson were both.
Theirs was a rivalry born out of competition. Dawson was regarded as the number-one light heavyweight in boxing. Pascal was a spot or two behind him. Their signatures swirled upon dotted lines, setting a night to determine who was truly better.
Theirs was not a friendly rivalry. Their personalities were too different.
Dawson speaks impassively, a soldier who believes in his training and ability and quietly accomplishes his missions. He is self-assured but not assertive, camouflage trunks, defiant rap anthems, a boxer who hits and moves on fight night and is then rarely heard from in-between bouts.
Pascal boasts effusively, a performer who not only believes in his training and ability but wants everyone else to as well. He is swagger personified, hot pink splashed on his trunks, operatic bursts leading off his ring walks, an aggressor outside of the ring and between the ropes.
They went nose-to-nose after weighing in, Dawson clasping his hands together behind his back, Pascal’s hands at his sides, two rams communicating nonverbally and unblinkingly but not yet butting heads.
After separating, each flexed a bicep at the crowd, Pascal tapping the muscle on his left arm with his right index finger before looking toward Dawson and smirking. Later, Pascal turned, faced fully outward, posed with both arms and stepped in front of Dawson. Dawson just shook his head and turned away. [Click Here To Read More]
Theirs was a rivalry born out of competition. Dawson was regarded as the number-one light heavyweight in boxing. Pascal was a spot or two behind him. Their signatures swirled upon dotted lines, setting a night to determine who was truly better.
Theirs was not a friendly rivalry. Their personalities were too different.
Dawson speaks impassively, a soldier who believes in his training and ability and quietly accomplishes his missions. He is self-assured but not assertive, camouflage trunks, defiant rap anthems, a boxer who hits and moves on fight night and is then rarely heard from in-between bouts.
Pascal boasts effusively, a performer who not only believes in his training and ability but wants everyone else to as well. He is swagger personified, hot pink splashed on his trunks, operatic bursts leading off his ring walks, an aggressor outside of the ring and between the ropes.
They went nose-to-nose after weighing in, Dawson clasping his hands together behind his back, Pascal’s hands at his sides, two rams communicating nonverbally and unblinkingly but not yet butting heads.
After separating, each flexed a bicep at the crowd, Pascal tapping the muscle on his left arm with his right index finger before looking toward Dawson and smirking. Later, Pascal turned, faced fully outward, posed with both arms and stepped in front of Dawson. Dawson just shook his head and turned away. [Click Here To Read More]
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