Soon enough, former King Arthur Abraham is about to meet former king Carl Froch in a much anticipated battle between two well matched, flawed but game warriors.
Both men love to war. And both know that war is hell. And both know some thing more. More diaboical. They know that the fire below burns hot. Hot enough to bend grown men.
Abraham is a human watchdog searching for errant hands below the belt. Not one to wait for another to blow the whistle, the King has perfected the act of sounding the alarm. With a grimace and a cringe, he has often had the third man in the ring come to his defense. And yet, when the chips are down …and his man’s not looking… AA has no compunction about lowering his own boom. Rules be damned.
This time he meets a man who has no text on how to win but knows how to nevertheless. The slowest Cobra outside of Nottingham will do whatever is necessary to win. Like his fellow Brit Ricky Hatton, brawling and winning beats bawling. And say what you will about Carl Froch, the man knows how to brawl.
I’m looking for down and dirty. A battle with no holds barred. A Miguel Cotto kind of fight. Where balls mean something more than just getting in the ring. Watch this one closely. And watch them clsely. The balls I mean. Belts are on the line. Only this time, they merely mark the middle line between fair…and fight.
Speaking of which, who do we really think belongs in the Rogues gallery of the most talented but dirtiest fighters to grace the squared circle.