Fortitude

My favorite fighter of the night did not get his hand raised, nor did he absolutely dominate and obliterate his opponent; no, instead he lost beautifully.
From the opening bell it was obvious that the other boy was older and bigger, and more refined in experience. With each shot that hit him, you could see the doubt and discouragement creeping onto the boy’s face and body language, as he was competing well above his size and years.
I’ve seen grown competitors twice and thrice his age crumbling under lesser pressure. What I saw that night was something extraordinary.
As he was done getting readied by his coach with the officials signaling the cornermen to get out, he looked across the ring, against a much more skilled and accoladed adversary, something the thought of that would wither and break the will of most. Instead, fixing his gaze forward, he took in a big breath or two, calmed his nerves and went onto finish the fight.
This boy displayed a level of composure and heart that even professionals fail to replicate at times. He understood that he was losing, that he was behind in the scorecards, but he never let it deter him from the act of doing and staying true to the moment, to finish what he started.
To me, witnessing moments like this as a silent observer documenting from the sides is what makes this art and science so humbling, so beautiful, so empowering.