All that is worth seeing in good boxing can best be witnessed in a contest with soft gloves. Every value is called out: quickness, force, precision, foresight, readiness, pluck, and endurance. With these, the rowdy and 'rough' are not satisfied.
A good boxing competition gives one the sight of fine men in their prime, trained to the ounce, showing the highest skill, pluck and endurance in carrying out their attack and defence under strict rules of fair play and good temper.
Precision, directness, and quickness are what human beings are good at. What we have never been good at - in our past, at least - is figuring out the impact, the consequences, of what our skills have allowed us to do.
My mother gave me boxing gloves; I wanted boxing gloves. I liked to box. So I still have them. They're still in my bookcase, very old, tattered, and they were cherished.
There are so many things I've done that the world of boxing has witnessed. It's going to be difficult for the boxing people to pick one of my performances as the best.
Humans are built for endurance, not speed. We're awful sprinters compared to every other animal. We try to run our races as if they were speed races, but they are not. They're endurance races. Even a marathon, the way it's run now, it's not an endurance contest.
I always believe in going hard at everything, whether it is Latin or mathematics, boxing or football, but at the same time I want to keep the sense of proportion. It is never worth while to absolutely exhaust one's self or to take big chances unless for an adequate object. I want you to keep in training the faculties which would make you, if the need arose, able to put your last ounce of pluck and strength into a contest. But I do not want you to squander these qualities.
Where most kids play stickball and hockey, I'd walk down the streets with two sets of boxing gloves and knock on my friend's door and see if he wanted to box. There were boxing gyms on every corner.
I have so many boxing gloves around my house that I would get them confused with other gloves.
For some reason, I was drawn towards boxing. Or maybe boxing drew me towards it - because once I put those gloves on, after about six months, boxing was my life.
After 14 years in boxing, the best decision I could have made was to take the last year off. My mind was not in boxing, but since I got here with Freddie, everything is working perfectly again. Boxing is all I know. Boxing is my life. Through boxing, I raised my family and I work to provide the best future for them. They are the reason I love boxing.
I tried the gloves on, and it just felt so natural. From that moment I became so embedded in boxing. I found a friend in boxing.
On a scale of 1-10, I would consider myself an 8.5 rowdy. I prefer being rowdy in the day. I'm a 10 day rowdy, 7 night rowdy.
The brutalities of a fight with bare hands, the crushed nasal bones, maimed lips, and other disfigurements, which call for the utter abolition of boxing in the interests of humanity, at once disappear when the contestants cover their hands with large, soft-leather gloves.
A boxing match is hard because boxing isn't set for you to do good. You have to force your will upon someone, but dancing you don't have to force your will. It should be a lot easier because if I make a mistake I don't get hit.
Well, of course a boxing match is hard because boxing isn't set for you to do good. You have to force your will upon someone, but dancing you don't have to force your will. It should be a lot easier because if I make a mistake I don't get hit.
What is this thing called a kiss? French, tongue, soul, chaste, motherly, fatherly, brotherly, sisterly, ass, genital, Judas, trembling, rough, hesitant, sweet, soft, wet, dying, fevered, good-night, farewell, burning, and chocolate.