I am a clerk. I have a long, inscrutable job title, but I am basically a clerk. You couldn't get much more white collar than me. I am not really very hard. My hands are soft like a muppet's hands and when someone bumps into me I apologise six times. In theory, white-collar boxing means I should fight someone a bit like me, but it turns out I will be fighting the guy in this picture below (I've copied it from the Facebook site promoting the event).
He is probably a highly paid IT consultant, but he looks pretty hard to me. Not because he has tats and isn't wearing a shirt - though that's pretty hard - it's because he looks like he's spent some portion of life not worrying about his head. I don't mean he's not handsome or anything, he just looks like he might have played rugby and possibly broken his nose a few times. This means he's more accepting of pain. And his head looks solidly joined too his body. I don't think mine is. I think my head would fall off first, if it was to come to that.
It won't come to that. Boxing is pretty safe. Well, not all boxing, but I think they stop these fights pretty quick if it gets ugly. And I've won the expectations game; no one will expect me to win, and if I lose, people will think I was brave just to get in the ring with him.
But that's about as good as it gets at the moment. This thing is totally out of control.
But that's about as good as it gets at the moment. This thing is totally out of control.
