I was stabbed in the back by my partner and accused of doping. I was suspended for three years and suffered a comminuted fracture in my right hand. The doctor said I would never be able to clench my fist again in my life.
It wasn't until that rainy night when I punched through the steel pipe with a plaster strapped on, that I discovered that what was disabled was not my hand, but the restriction.
The boxing god system has awakened and broken bones have been recast. My left hand is lighter, faster and more vicious than in its heyday.
When I stood in the ring again, they were horrified to discover that the loser who wanted to be eliminated was using his left uppercut to settle old scores one by one, working his way through the world of boxing from underground black boxing.
