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Among the fighters I pay to box with, those third-rate fighters with no record, the ones who may leave the gym at any time, have a different flavor from professional fighters with beautiful records.

There is more darkness and anger in their hearts.

Compared with those fighters who are completely in control and only come to earn some extra money, they bring a little more of the thrill of losing control.

Every time the match ends, when I raise my bruised, reddened arm to transfer the money to them, I say:

“When you become a star fighter in the future, don’t forget who your best punching bag was.”

They are always very happy.

And so am I.