I think that I would be a great boxer. One of the best, probably. It’s too bad that boxing isn’t as popular as it was like seventy years ago, because, if it were, high schools would probably have boxing teams and I would have been able to learn the ropes in high school. My arms are so much longer than everyone else’s, so I wouldn’t need too much in terms of actual training. I’d just naturally be able to stay further away from any opponents while at the same time beating them senseless. You ever watch cartoons where one of the smaller, shrimpier characters gets really angry and then lunges at a bigger character in a fury of berserk rage? And the little guy is punching and going crazy and doling out the beating of a lifetime, but then the camera zooms out and the bigger character is just holding out his hand, totally blocking the smaller character, preventing him from even getting close? And the little guy is just punching the air? That would be me, in real life, in a real life boxing match. I’m pretty sure that there aren’t any rules against this move; it’s just rarely, if ever executed in real life.
I’d be the best boxer. After I fought my way through high school, I’d box for my college team. But I’d only spend maybe a semester or two taking classes before I’d get recruited by some pro boxers. It wouldn’t even be fair after a while. My domination of the sport would be so complete that it wouldn’t be long before the boxing authorities would have to change the sport completely just to keep it interesting. They’d introduce team boxing. It would be like regular boxing, but you’d have to do it with a teammate. And I’m not talking about tag-team, like wrestling, but actually teaming up, like two on two at the same time.
But I’d still be completely untouchable. I’d take my teammate and hold him out horizontally by the legs while I swung him around in a circle, making him punch out both members of the opposing team. With this technique, my opponents would be even further away from me than if I were boxing solo, even less likely to get close enough to land a punch. I’d only have been boxing professionally for a couple of years, but I would be the undisputed best boxer in history. And it wouldn’t be a matter of opinion. I’d just direct everyone to take a look at my record: the only boxer to have gone his whole career without ever having been punched, not even once. No other boxer has ever come close to that type of professional success. Sorry Pacquiao.
I’d get so good at boxing that it would eventually be totally boring. Like even more boring than regular boxing is right now. Nobody would want to come and see me fight, because it would be the same routine every time. Me entering the ring. Me throwing really long punches. Knockout. And I’d raise my hands in victory but the stadium would be empty, because, let’s face it, how many times are you going to pay for a ticket to see something like that? Twenty-five? Twenty-six times, max?
The promoters would kick me out of major league boxing. Nobody would set up any fights for me. No other boxers would agree to a fight. But I’d insist on battling it out. So I’d just show up at every fight and just walk in the ring and start throwing punches. And I’d keep punching until I’d have knocked everyone else out. Ding ding mothafucka.
So the league would do everything they could to get rid of me. They’d hire a bunch of goons to team up with me, but these goons would do everything they could to sabotage my chances. But even that wouldn’t work. So then they’d start setting up these fights where it’s me versus three guys, four guys, thirty-five guys. But they could pack the ring with as many clowns as they wanted. I’d just stand in the middle and extend my really long arms and spin around in a circle, clobbering anyone who dared to come close. And nobody would come close. The whole match would be me spinning in a circle in the middle of the ring with everyone else, terrified, standing against the ropes, trying not to get hit. And each round would be the same, nobody brave enough to get close, and the clock eventually running out. And it would be round after round until the match was over. And the judges would have to make a decision. And they’d look for statistics, like the number of punches thrown, to try to help them determine a winner. And they’d be forced to count every rotation that I made in the center of the ring as a punch. And it would be an unquestionable victory for me.
And eventually nobody would be paying me anything. I’d have completely dried up the sport of any fun, any interest, and any potential profit. But I’d still be the king. Undisputed. Much later in life, I’d still have my reputation of being the best boxer in history, never once getting punched, but I’d be a much older man, and like every human being who gets old, I’d lose a lot of my fight. And some knucklehead might wait outside of my house one day and, when I’m not looking, he’d sock me one right in the jaw. And his buddies would be there watching it, throwing around high-fives, filming it, and getting ready to put it up on whatever type of Youtube is popular in the future. But the punch would be too much for an old washed up boxer like me to take, and I’d die. And all of the sudden this nobody, this joker that punched me out, he’d be famous, like real famous, like way too famous. This wasn’t what he was bargaining for. Now he’d be the only guy in history to have landed a punch on history’s greatest boxer. He’d be the new champ. And everybody would want a piece of him. And he’d try to explain to the press that he didn’t mean to knock me out for good, that he’s not a real boxer, that he’d please like it for promoters to stop signing him up for these huge pay-per-view boxing matches, but it would be totally out of his hands, he’d be swept away by the currents of his unintentional celebrity. And these matches would be brutal, a whole line of boxers, as soon as one boxer would knock him out there would be another boxer right behind him to pick him up and knock him out again. And medicine is going to be so advanced in the future that this guy’s going to get the beating of a lifetime, over and over again, and a team of futuristic doctors is going to be right by his side, to rush up to him right as he takes his last breath, and they’re going to completely revive him, fix him up good as new, instantly ready for another pummeling, and it’s going to be like that for years and years and years.
And then science is going to get even more advanced, and eventually somebody is going to invent time travel. And some genius promoter is going to figure out a way to convince a scientist to let him borrow the time machine, and they’re going to go back in time to when this nobody knocked me out, gave me my first and final blow, and right as that guy punches me out, they’ll swoop in from the future and take me with them, and in the future the technology will be so great that not only will they bring me back to life, but they’ll make me young again. I’ll be back, totally in my prime. And it’ll be the rematch of a lifetime. A once-in-eternity type of a fight. It’ll be history’s greatest boxer versus the one guy who was able to actually punch him out. And it won’t even be a contest, because that guy was lucky to sucker-punch me while I was an old man, but now I’d be stronger than ever, and this guy’s going to get destroyed.
And after I beat him senseless, the doctors will revive him and I’ll just wipe the sweat off of my brow, but there won’t be any sweat, because it’ll be so easy for me that I won’t even be sweating, but I’ll do the wipe away motion just to make it look like I put in some effort, and I’ll say, “again,” and the match will start over and over again. “Again,” I’ll keep saying as this guy begs me to stop, but I won’t. Punch. Knockout. “Again.” Revive. Punch. Knockout. “Again.” And nobody will ever get bored this time, because just the idea of what’s going on, just the idea of this eternal slugfest made possible by such incredible feats of technology, people will be transfixed, unable to stop watching the beating. “Again!” they’ll chant with me in unison. It’ll be absolutely spectacular.