"What is the point of living? What is the point of going through this pointless struggle that will vanish with me? I puke at the stupid sense of honor many find on being microscopic pawns on a far larger-" - Javier, wanna watch something?- My father's voice called me out from my deep letargic self pitying; I stared at my mother and aunt talking carefree on the table, I envyed them for actually enjoying life, and so after going by them I sat on our old catly destroyed sofa next to my father, he had taken out his old laptop; I can't deny that a part of me craved the small moments and family closeness life allowed me, Dad and I well... we are different, our views of the world and coping ways differ a lot, so I am used to putting up fake smiles as long as it means spending a nice evening with my old man, it is pathetic in so many levels but I need it; with a smile father offered me one earpod and he pressed play on a seemingly old video on YouTube, before the video was even played I had already a fake smile on me, I wasnt expecting the content of the video, an old boxing fight, -who's fighting?- the name dad said changed my life in more ways than I would have imagined -Salvador Sanchez-.
That day I understood the real depth of boxing, it ain't a cavemen violent show, it is a deadly dance of precision, speed, power and strategy; I couldn't believe my eyes, the gracefull way both fighters poured their souls into every movement, the way their bodies bonded with the other's and the violent outcome of it, battered Wilfrido Gomez cornered against the ropes, Salvador Sanchez elegantly marked the distance with a jab and unleashed hell itself with a right hook that put wilfrido to sleep, it was a foreign intoxicating feeling, my palms were sweaty, my heartbeat rose, a lump formed at my throat; that is the day I met boxing.