Midway through the eruption, Codrington [the punchee] was already out cold, yet with the blows coming so fast, he took several more shots before the referee could finally jump in. But it was too late.Woo-hoo! He's not being partial. I haven't seen anything quite like it either, and now I feel like I could use some emergency psychological counseling. You can check out the award-winning madcap misadventure of Mr. Codrington for yourself here (click on "Post-fight report").
Codrington's limp body bent in half, and he slid between the second and third ring ropes, where he dangled face down like a wet towel hanging on a rack. His body was half in the ring and half out of the ring.
"Until I saw the fight [on tape], I didn't realize how awesome it was," Green [the puncher] said. "When I saw it for myself, I thought, 'Whoa!' To me, that was the worst knockout I have ever seen. It was brutal. I had not seen anything like that before, and I'm not being partial. I'm just being honest."
I used to like to watch boxing, even into my early years of graduate school. Then I, like, acquired a sense of humanity or something. I don't know from where. But now, I can't even bear to watch it, feeling both squeamish and sullied. A pugilistic prude, I guess. That said, I'd still be willing to fight Loïc Wacquant at the upcoming ASA meeting as an author-meets-critics exercise in ethnographic fact-checking, if someone wants to set it up. Such is my dedication to the principle of replication at the interaction of social and sweet science.
6 comments:
I proposed on the soc grad list a few years back that incommensurable disagreements between sociologists of differing theoretical backgrounds be settled by way of arm-wrestling. Of course, I had not yet read up on the libido pugilistica at the time.
The Farmer vs. the Frenchman
I say we start placing bets on Freese v. Wacquant now.
In this corrrrnahhhh, in the red and white trunks, the meistro of method, the sultan of Stata, the Cambridgian correlator, Jeremy "the Hammerin' Hawkeye" Freeeeeeeeeeese!
And in this cornahhh, in the blue and gold trunks, the Fightin' Frenchman, the captain of carnal, the Bourdeiusian bomber, "Busy Louie" Wacquaaaaaaant!
Brady: I love it. I need to figure out what would be the appropriate song to have play as I enter the ring. Pearl Jam's "Jeremy" would seem the obvious choice, although there is also a certain appeal for The Magnetic Fields' "I Don't Believe You." Or even Bratmobile's "Gimme Brains," as there has never been enough Riot Grrl music played in boxing, esp. considering the convergence of major substantive themes.
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