Sunday, November 8, 2009


I don't know why I'm that surprised by Haye's victory, really. More than once I've emerged the worse from an altercation with one of my cats; they're just faster than me, even the fat ones.

Not long ago I got a taste of what Valuev got last night trying to save a three-legged street cat from being run over by the tram. He obviously hadn't learned from whatever experience cost him Leg Number One; he was just sitting in the road, thinking deep cat thoughts, waiting to be run over. I got him to safety -- or rather, he got himself to safety, once I'd motivated him -- but in fighting terms, the little monster definitely won. He had it all -- distance, timing, speed, technique, claws. I would have done better if he'd been wearing gloves, but what can you say. That's the problem with a real street fight.

I was on my way back from Muay Thai class when this happened, and the guys who work in my building were very alarmed by my appearance when I walked in the door. They reckoned I'd gotten out of my depth with this whole martial arts business -- they couldn't believe a cat had inflicted so much damage on me.

If a three-legged, seven-pound Istanbul street cat can take down a 125-pound American woman, one who still has all the limbs God gave her, I suppose it shouldn't come as that much of a surprise that Haye could take Valuev.

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