My eye fell upon a Yahoo! headline: "Gone too fast." I clicked on the link and discovered that the story was about Diego Corrales, a former boxing champion who had been killed in a motorcycle accident. Mr. Corrales was 29.
I wanted to read about his life and death, but I wondered if I was just trying to get a sports hit. After all, boxing is one of the most ancient and universal contests. In another post, I mentioned our family's tradition--back in the 1950s--of watching Saturday Night Fights on a tiny black and white screen. (Howard Cosell might have beeen on the announcing team.)
Back to the story of Mr. Corrales: Uncertain whether to read it or not, I solicited the opinion of my wife. It's not just that she's smarter or more ethical than me. Because she's never had a sports watching addiction, her opinion counts for something. She said: "Reading about a man's life is different from reading an account of a sporting event. You may read the piece."
The story, by Kevin Iole, includes the following three paragraphs:
"Only two years earlier in the Mandalay Bay Events Center, Corrales was the victor in a brawl with Jose Luis Castillo in a lightweight title unification match that was unsurpassed in boxing history for its savagery.
"But what made the fight so memorable was its sensational and unexpected ending. With his left eye closed, his face a grotesque lump of welts, Corrales dragged himself from the mat after a pair of 10th-round knockdowns to rally and stop Castillo.
"It was his finest moment, one of the finest in boxing history."
I'm going to confess: Those 91 words gave me a jolt. If it had been a shot of heroin and not a dose of reportage, I'd have been sky high.
Does this make my wife wrong? No. How could she understand the feelings of an addict. I have learned my lesson. Sports biography is a forbidden genre. Maybe I'll find a dramatic story about the death of a jazz musician or a teacher or a farmer...
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