Hey, like many others I can only take so much of Woody Allen, sex assault cases and the standard fare of corruption stories.
Needing a break with something more wholesome, I turned to the boxing game in Rhode Island. Talk about a cleansing breath: I haven’t felt this pure since absorbing the bounty of Tuscan vineyards and immersing in Mediterranean salt and sun.
Ah, Providence: Even if not quite the embodiment of the Platonic ideals of truth and beauty, I can at least hail the elemental transparency of a consensual brawl in a milieu where every piece of turf is highly-contested.
Drawing me to the Twin River Casino boxing arena was 45-year-old Glen Johnson, an honest and earnest laborer, a gentleman and a senior citizen in his chosen vocation.
I saw Johnson fight in Hartford five years ago ...
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