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  • Writer's pictureCarlos Arroyo

I'm here to tell a story.

I am not a boxing fan. I don't know much about its history, greatest fighters or rules inside the ring. I know the basics, and occasionally watch the odd fight . However, I am fascinated by the stories behind the fighters. It takes a very specific kind of person to get on a ring and be willing to get knocked-out with a punch to the face.

Box has been a metaphor of life in general culture for a long time. It is literally a matter of punching your way through a test of character and pain. A lot of planning and strategy are involved, but luck always playing part in it. We can try to perform at the level of our expectations, but in the end we fall to the level of our training. It is a big risk to be willing to get up there and fight an opponent, and lessons are certainly hard-learned.

As human societies, I don't know where this fascination of making a sport out of watching two individuals battle it out (almost to their death) comes from. There must be an anthropological or evolutionary explanation out there. What is certain is that - for whatever reason - many of us can't look away when a "good" fight is going on.

One of such stories that fascinates me is that of Tyson Fury, a two-time heavyweight champion, who recently defeated Deontay Wilder, when not many thought he could. Part of the fascination of the heavyweight division undoubtedly comes from the size of the fighters, and this was no exception. Just looking at these two giants throw punches at each other is quite a thing to behold. However, the interesting part of Fury's story is that he has been very open about the fact that his greatest battle has not been on the ring, but off it. And it has not been against a well-trained giant with boxing gloves but a silent, creeping enemy: depression.

Tyson Fury's battle for his mental health has been widely discussed in radio, podcasts and tv shows. One can't help but be amazed at the fact that in only 18 months Fury went from overweight, depressed, addicted to drugs and attempting suicide to heavy weight champion. During the interviews that he's given after the fight he has repeated the phrase that titles this blog post: I'm here to tell a story, and what a story his is.

I believe that when we frame our life through the lens of a narrative, our decisions become much clearer. What story are we telling with our life?


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