By Lyle Fitzsimmons - It’s just an in-between anniversary this time, but it doesn’t much matter.
Whenever Oct. 2 rolls around on the calendar, as it did yesterday, I get pissed.
Not because I think boxing is a sissy sport or that the guys who pursue it as a profession need to be coddled. It isn’t and they don’t. And anyone who’s covered it or been around it for any amount of time – whether less or more than me – knows that’s the case as well.
If a guy wants to strip down to trunks, shoes and gloves and test his best against that of another, I’m all for it. And as long as he passes the requisite medical tests of the commission of record, I couldn’t care less if he’s black or white, young or old, champion or never-was. [Click Here To Read More]
Whenever Oct. 2 rolls around on the calendar, as it did yesterday, I get pissed.
Not because I think boxing is a sissy sport or that the guys who pursue it as a profession need to be coddled. It isn’t and they don’t. And anyone who’s covered it or been around it for any amount of time – whether less or more than me – knows that’s the case as well.
If a guy wants to strip down to trunks, shoes and gloves and test his best against that of another, I’m all for it. And as long as he passes the requisite medical tests of the commission of record, I couldn’t care less if he’s black or white, young or old, champion or never-was. [Click Here To Read More]
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