We are what you say we are.
Michael Jordan, much more than his game, was the shameless “Love of The Game” clause in his contract for the Chicago Bulls. The best in a field of envy, #23 debunked all theory while dunking all over people in what seemed like cleats with a guy named Spike.
Unable to have Lupe Fiasco accompany him to the ring while reminding him that he’s indeed a “Superstar,” the new “Golden Boy,” in a pair of his own amorous red St. Valentine’s Day shoes sprinkled with “RING”, went bloody thorny rose on Francisco Fonseca, courtesy of a sweeping and explosive check left hook landed with all the impact of Thor’s Hammer in the first round.
Sugar Ray Robinson now has company and so does Oscar De La Hoya. Some things last forever in a place all by themselves. To make a sequel would just study futility and fail. What could follow George Clooney and Salma Hayek in their snake charming ways of decadent appeal in “From Dusk till Dawn” but some forgettable “Texas Bloody Money”? You get your money’s worth from honest Mexican grit with boxing’s new long and handsome star, who upon a film review of his “Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre”, loaded with Hershey’s Kisses and cheap notes of Ruinite Lambrusca…and renderings of rose petal colored ink, is better than the 1992 Olympic gold version of Oscar De La Hoya and just as sweet as a box of chocolate Sugar Ray had a passion for.
It wasn’t the historic butchering of rival separation featuring The Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre of Sugar Ray Robinson Vs Jake LaMotta VI, where The Best Ever heard, “You never knocked me down, Ray.”
It wasn’t the grizzly scene of Al Capone’s henchman on the North Side of Chicago being gunned down gangster style in a stylishly dark 1929 St. Valentine’s Day Massacre. This is very much a distant segue to both, as if a long advertisement that honored the past and introduced the future.
His robe was Ali-esque with a barely visible “Shock The World.” It was as flashy as it was plain old red laced with white. The trunks revealed an ode to daughter Rylie, while paying tribute to Kobe Bryant and daughter Gigi.
Who says nostalgia isn’t classy in a fistic Here and Now echoed self-love and belief? There’s a strange sound produced by nothingness. Martyred by Garcia, a concussed Francisco Fonseca arose to a cresfallen Ryan, fresh out of the Kingry fire and feeling very much like he’d just left the frying pan. He might be still in it.
If they fought today (as in the very next fight), he knocks out a “Tank.” Cold.
There was blustery wind from Devin Haney, but he’s somewhere off in the distance. There’s isn’t “Gone with the wind” just yet, but it will take your breath away when it happens. For now, there’s at least a “Casablanca” on the horizon with co-star Gervonta “Tank” Davis, featuring a superstar in Ryan “Kingry” Garcia.