It was a firefight. A down in the trenches battle defined by close, personal violence. It was blood, bone and muscle. It was a transfixed crowd with craned necks and sweat speckled faces. The technique of it all is the 800lb gorilla in the room. It defined the night, but never gets spoken of with such desperate intentions in the air.
When fighters get lost in thoughtlessness is when the muscle memory makes the difference. The endless hours of work, away from the lights and the crowd. The dedication required to even go this deep would break most people. You don't get to this level of the fight game by being most people.
This is pugilistic Darwinism. Champions share many traits and these men were naturally selected.
(slide 2)
As Mathew's white trunks slowly stain with Yaqui's blood, he continues to just tank his way through everything he can throw. He's taking every bit as good as he gives. Mathew Saad Muhammad was gifted with endurance and worked endlessly on it. The reason he is here is that his childhood couldn't crush him. He spent his whole life wearing a weight vest of pain that only seemed to come off deep in a war.
Yaqui was right there with him. Chin down hands up, or in constant motion as a reckless blur of violence. As Yaqui rains punch after vicious punch on the champion. They knew each other well enough to know it could only come to this. A marathon of pain, heart and who wants it more. Bring the best out of the champion. They stood as men, from places with little to lose and all the world to gain. You wonder what compels them to put themselves through this.
(Slide 3)
Yaqui is here to prove himself, once and for all, a champion. Down the stretch of his 4th title shot he knows that this may well be his last opportunity. He goes to the well of fortitude and keeps coming up with full buckets. He's up on the cards, 8 minutes separate him and history. 8 Minutes and Mathew Saad Muhammad.
For most of his life, and a lot of his career Saad was known as Mathew Franklin. But even that was a stand in for his real name. Found wandering by the Benjamin Franklin parkway, he was picked up by police and dropped off at a Catholic parish in North Philly. Too young to remember his own name, the nuns named him Mathew Franklin. After the Saint and the road where his brother's keeper left him.
He grew up in the orphanage, serious beyond his years, sad until he smiles. The walk to school everyday was a mini Warriors remake set in Philadelphia. He was beaten and robbed daily. Until he figured if you can't beat 'em...
(Slide 4)
Soon Matt was running a gang of his own and developing a reputation. Suffice to say this wasn't the man you wanted to go heads up with over a watch or wallet outside a bar. Boxing saved him from street life. If he couldn't beat them back then, he sure as hell could now. Mathew would no longer toy with his blessing. Because when you get beat up 5 times a week, what's 6? You can get some horrifying things done when you are willing to accept horrifying consequences.
Yaqui keeps pulling up bucket after bucket. He fights with pride and skill and machismo. A champion Zacatecas could be proud to call a native son. Another fan favorite fighting out of Stockton.
As the 12th round ticks by, the micro fractures are turning macro. The inhaled blood coats the interior of their lungs, mouths and sinus cavities. It turns Saad's white trunks into a butcher's apron. You become numb to the pain of it all.
Rhythm Boxing
Troubles With God
(Slide 1)
It was a firefight. A down in the trenches battle defined by close, personal violence. It was blood, bone and muscle. It was a transfixed crowd with craned necks and sweat speckled faces. The technique of it all is the 800lb gorilla in the room. It defined the night, but never gets spoken of with such desperate intentions in the air.
When fighters get lost in thoughtlessness is when the muscle memory makes the difference. The endless hours of work, away from the lights and the crowd. The dedication required to even go this deep would break most people. You don't get to this level of the fight game by being most people.
This is pugilistic Darwinism. Champions share many traits and these men were naturally selected.
(slide 2)
As Mathew's white trunks slowly stain with Yaqui's blood, he continues to just tank his way through everything he can throw. He's taking every bit as good as he gives. Mathew Saad Muhammad was gifted with endurance and worked endlessly on it. The reason he is here is that his childhood couldn't crush him. He spent his whole life wearing a weight vest of pain that only seemed to come off deep in a war.
Yaqui was right there with him. Chin down hands up, or in constant motion as a reckless blur of violence. As Yaqui rains punch after vicious punch on the champion. They knew each other well enough to know it could only come to this. A marathon of pain, heart and who wants it more. Bring the best out of the champion. They stood as men, from places with little to lose and all the world to gain. You wonder what compels them to put themselves through this.
(Slide 3)
Yaqui is here to prove himself, once and for all, a champion. Down the stretch of his 4th title shot he knows that this may well be his last opportunity. He goes to the well of fortitude and keeps coming up with full buckets. He's up on the cards, 8 minutes separate him and history. 8 Minutes and Mathew Saad Muhammad.
For most of his life, and a lot of his career Saad was known as Mathew Franklin. But even that was a stand in for his real name. Found wandering by the Benjamin Franklin parkway, he was picked up by police and dropped off at a Catholic parish in North Philly. Too young to remember his own name, the nuns named him Mathew Franklin. After the Saint and the road where his brother's keeper left him.
He grew up in the orphanage, serious beyond his years, sad until he smiles. The walk to school everyday was a mini Warriors remake set in Philadelphia. He was beaten and robbed daily. Until he figured if you can't beat 'em...
(Slide 4)
Soon Matt was running a gang of his own and developing a reputation. Suffice to say this wasn't the man you wanted to go heads up with over a watch or wallet outside a bar. Boxing saved him from street life. If he couldn't beat them back then, he sure as hell could now. Mathew would no longer toy with his blessing. Because when you get beat up 5 times a week, what's 6? You can get some horrifying things done when you are willing to accept horrifying consequences.
Yaqui keeps pulling up bucket after bucket. He fights with pride and skill and machismo. A champion Zacatecas could be proud to call a native son. Another fan favorite fighting out of Stockton.
As the 12th round ticks by, the micro fractures are turning macro. The inhaled blood coats the interior of their lungs, mouths and sinus cavities. It turns Saad's white trunks into a butcher's apron. You become numb to the pain of it all.
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1 year ago (edited) | [YT] | 215