Wait, wait, wait.
So if a young, hungry, streetfightin' (but good natured) kid with some boxing talent (15-2, 9 KOs) fought his way up from the slums amidst great hardship to put food on the table for his family, send his kid sister to college, and buy grandma (um...ok, in the hospital) the pretty broach she'd always wanted - oh, and he was going to dedicate the remainder of his championship winnings to the local orphanage...was to face...
an UberAthlete (40-1, 36 KOs), former captain of the Olympic Boxing team, out of a well-equipped gym with all the best handlers and trainers money could buy, lots of ring savvy, often seen zooming around in a Ferrari on his off-time, known as a complainer, hell-raiser and general miscreant...
...taking the UberAthlete merely based upon the dietary implications of growing up poor (versus having ones' own personal dietician) wouldn't be the romantic approach?
Gotcha - I'm a pragmatist. ;-)
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