Tables carried vintage Polaroid cameras, art of classic rock, the historian Will Durant’s “Study of Philosophy,” life application study bibles, ‘70s novels from Erica Jong about feminism and finding yourself and, of course, as any young man’s pad is sure to need, Dan Brown’s “The Da Vinci Code.”Įight days before he’d meet Davis in Las Vegas, he was here, running out of the shower to meet his esteemed guests on his fluffy couches. Inside were gray brick walls surrounded by a fireplace, where a smattering of windows showed a distant Los Angeles and featured contemporary portraits of Ali with “Life is Gucci” splayed across his body. There was a cerulean basketball court, bathed in sunlight most days, where Garcia and his boys unwinded and launched jumpers after tough mornings in the gym. The camp house was where he could relax, even if it looked like it once moonlighted as a content house. I mean, you can try, but the truth comes out. It squeezes the truth out of you, no matter if you’re tired, there’s really nothing you can do to hide that fact. But, when you get in there: you find out the truth. That’s why I love it: you can lie that you’ve been training hard, you can lie that you’re a better fighter. “No matter if you’re the good guy or the bad guy, the truth is gonna win. “Boxing is the most truthful sport in the world,” he said. If he truly believed he was on a walk toward a path he couldn’t see yet, the only thing he could do was get in the ring. There wasn’t a world where his sharp left hook couldn’t solve most of his problems. If Garcia needed an answer, he figured fightin’ would provide it. It led him from baseball to boxing, from 215 wins and 15 national titles in the amateurs to a 23-0 record in the pros. He’s always endlessly searching, yearning for hard lessons through a painstaking, trial-by-fire attitude Garcia’s clung to since he was 7 years old. He couldn’t think too hard about it, or he’d go blank, and stare off until the day ended. He stopped, and shook his head, left to right, like a metronome. About what it would feel like to lose to Davis. He bent his thumbs over each other, one after another. “I-I’ve still got some more searching to do.” And you can’t do that if everyone thinks you can do it. “So many people have me as the underdog and this is my opportunity to inspire people. “That’s why I love this fight so much,” Garcia went on to say, casting a quixotic stare. They thought he bit off more than he could chew. “There’s no way, he was a loud-mouth, pretty boy from Louisville. “They thought Muhammad Ali was gonna die,” Garcia said. He told me, emphatically, that he was “gonna shock the world.” He saw the scrap as his sole moment, the only thing he could currently conquer to prove he belonged with the big boys of boxing. undefeated pride fight in the heart of Sin City. Ryan Garcia, a man-made boxing king of the next generation, wasn’t just going to fight Gervonta “Tank” Davis, the self-proclaimed savage from west Baltimore, in an undefeated vs. It was hard to believe some pretty boy from Victorville had much more of a chance.īut he was assured of his victory. Men walked into the ring only to end the night sullen and swollen, broken and confused at how - or when - they nosedived toward the canvas. Didn’t he know? No one had ever survived one of these maulings. There was no backing out of it, despite how many people thought he was delusional for taking such a risky fight. The paperwork had long been signed and the fight announced. This was what it meant to be a man, right? To be the Mexican warrior he so badly wanted to embody. He wanted to walk directly through the fire, with his chin held high toward victory. His promoters tried to talk some sense into him, but the pug insisted on blazing this path. Well, I suppose there was never any stopping him.
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