One old grizzled fighter came on strong,
unleashing flurries
of punches, landing some.
The younger, fresher
one seemed to be biding his time…
The first two rounds
went to the seasoned champion.
In the third round,
things began to change.
The young man let
loose with his wicked jab,
and began to do
damage around an older head…
The champion ducked
and weaved and dodged,
mostly effective but
not every time – and got hit.
He took it like the
champ he was, and persevered.
Dodging and weaving,
he fired back some punches.
Got warned by the
referee – they both did.
But after the fourth
round, things looked bleak.
By the fifth and
sixth rounds, the challenger was
scoring hits at
three times the rate of the champ.
It became inevitable
– and a game of survival.
The old champ stayed
on his feet by will alone.
In the last two
rounds, the old warrior launched
some desperate
flurries, even landing a few.
The young strong
bull answered back with plenty!
When it finally came
to the end, it was with grace.
You saw the young
challenger, now the champ,
behaving with an
uncanny class, ceasing seconds early,
giving the old
warhorse a bow of respect before the bell.
No bloody knockouts
here – this was a sporting ballet.
No thrilla in
Manila,
no slash-and-burn,
no ear-biting rages,
no TKO in the first
round.
This was a contest
of gentlemen,
settled like
gentlemen.
Doubt there will be
another match like this one.
Congrats, Jake Paul.
Well fought, Mike
Tyson.
Don’t spend it all
in one place (both of you). ;-)