I think I knew from the very beginning he would have the best of me. Not that I wouldn’t venture into the ring and stand my ground, full of pride in my own possibilities. But it was obvious from the start that his powerful stature and lengthy reach would easily deliver strikes capable of staggering me to no relief.
It ended up a short fight. For two rounds I held my own. Or so my story goes. You may have seen the first two rounds and think otherwise. Yet for those two rounds I dreamed a chance — the challenger’s fatal conceit.
With Chodorov, distilling his writing into summary quotes is a challenge best reserved for the foolish. And I had played the fool.
I did what I could to delay the start, but I finally took the bell for round three. I stepped toward him and saw his stance. His style was something to behold. I took a second step and once again felt the doubt that separates champion from journeyman.
In the previous rounds, I had wanted to fold into a literary rope-a-dope and let Chodorov pound himself into exhaustion. But the rope-a-dope defense of simply copying full chapters is not permitted the live blogger. In each round, I had to throw my own punches in order to be allowed to continue the fight.
Without a defense and no offence, drained and tired, I took my pounding in that third round without even raising a hand. I took a dive and threw the fight.
Chodorov won, and only I am shocked.
I simply ask that the reader take a walk with Chodorov. It sure beats facing him in the ring.