hier was schönes für den gladiator. er postet ja sonst auch immer so fleißig sämtliche berichte über die quitschkos.
Time To Bring the Name “Quitschko” Out of Retirement?By Michael J. Woods (March 16, 2005)
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Boxers aren’t like you or I. The successful ones have an otherworldly pain threshold that enables them to soldier on through physical setbacks that would sideline 99% of the population.
When fighters opt out of a scheduled bout, citing an injury, as Vitali Klitschko did this past weekend, I try not to cast a judgmental eye on the injured party. But when Klitschko cited a thigh injury sustained while jogging as the reason for the postponement of his April 30 bout with Hasim Rahman, my critical antennae went erect.
First, the injury occurred while he was jogging. Doesn’t send a message of the Uke’s physical superiority, does it? Me, I would’ve been tempted to fudge were I in V’s shoes, and say that I pulled the muscle in a particularly grueling round of sparring. Or, perhaps, play the sex card, and say that the injury occurred during a particularly vigorous round of sexual sparring with the old lady. Or, maybe, say the tear went down during a session of Pilates, and blame a hapless strength and conditioning coach. Those guys always get the short end as athletes try to weasel out of allegations made in a book, or leaked grand jury testimony. “I was only taking these pills, which cost $35 a pop, but which I was told were vitamins and minerals, on the advice of my strength and conditioning coach,” is the new excuse used by Popeye-forearmed baseball players trying to deny the brutally obvious.
V could’ve blamed some Gunther, Franz or Adolph for forcing him into some unfamiliar callisthenic which caused him to tear a muscle in his left thigh, and we might’ve believed it.
Apart from the screamingly pedestrian circumstances surrounding the alleged injury, my antennae went all John Holmes when I read that V’s doctors told him to take several weeks off and that a mere month wouldn’t be enough to get ready for Rahman. Now, I reserve the right to be wrong, especially without a report from a completely objective physician in front of me to testify to the exact severity of the injury. But a mere torn muscle, in this age where athletes are having arthroscopic surgery on Saturday, and playing a game a week later? V should be able to ride the bike, gingerly at first, while taking anti-inflammatory shots and getting whatever other concoctions those scientific wizards throw together and have that thigh as good as new in two weeks.
Unless V has gotten reports that this is a radically different Hasim Rahman than has been functioning since he shocked the world on April 22, 2001 with a fifth-round knockout of Lennox Lewis, then I can’t see why V wouldn’t think that 30 days of prep, after already being at 70% peak capacity, wouldn’t be enough to down Rock. Maybe Rock is reborn, and word reached V. But history--recent history, not history skewed by one’s own delusional filter that we ourselves can regain youthful vitality--is always the best predictor of the future, and my money’s on V to bust Rahman up good. Let me amend that...my money was on V. Now I’m left uncertain. I’m just not buying that we’ve been fed everything there is to know about this postponement. My instinct isn’t based on
much more than my immediate gut instinct, a “thin slicing” scenario informed by little evidence.
This postponement brings me back to April 2000, when V quit on his stool after the ninth round of his fight with Chris Byrd. He was ahead on the cards, and could have been knocked down three times in the final rounds and still claimed victory.
“Quitschko,” the wiseguys dubbed him. He was the Cowardly Lion and the Tin Man of the sport, rolled into one, in need of a courage infusion and a heart implantation, it was said, even after we learned that he had a torn rotator cuff.
Those slurs were quieted when V ate Lennox leather on June 21, 2003, and wore open wounds that definitively qualified as legitimate badges of courage.
Remember, boxers are held to much higher standards than us rank and filers; we look to them to provide examples of what we can be, not what we are. We, the mere mortals who don’t possess the qualities of champions, all too often shrink from confrontation.
We recede from opportunities to push our boundaries of comfort, choose the wide path of an unexceptional existence, rather than tread the narrower passage to transcendent glory.
We look to fighters for inspiration. We soak up the tales of their sacrifice and replenish our reservoirs of hope and courage when we gaze at the majesty of their courageous efforts.
And when they postpone fights because of a pulled muscle, they are exhibiting tendencies that are the norm, not the exception, in this world. Because boxers aren’t like you and I. Or, they aren’t supposed to be anyway.
Vitali, there’s still time to reconsider. My advice: call for a press conference tonight. At the press conference, say that you’ve had a change of heart. (No need to share the Oz imagery, just be straightforward). Say that you’ve decided to go against doctor’s orders. Go to the gym the next day, get a shot of cortisone from Dr. Franz, get that thigh wrapped up, and commence training for that April 30th date. The possibility that you will be facing Rahman in a subpar condition will even the odds of the fight and give a boost to
the storyline. And spectators are suckers for limping, so if the thigh hampers you during the fight, and you slog through it, that nickname, “Quitschko,” will fade farther into the past.
Don’t shrink from the confrontation, Vitali.
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