by boxing. Lee, an Irish southpaw, melds revealing set pieces about life as an “outsider” with a rich account of his rough route to the middleweight championship. His itinerant boyhood was shaped by the “special closeness to gypsy life.” His family was among a group that lived in “trailers and caravans,” traveled “in convoy” and prohibited marriages to “non\u002DGypsies. Gorgeys, we call them.” At school, classmates sang a parody of his peripatetic lifestyle. He learned to fight by taking beatings from his older brothers, already skilled boxers. Relatably, Lee realizes that he chose his profession in part because he didn’t want to disappoint loved ones. Yet being “pushed to the fringes of society” equipped him with an invaluable trait—“raw toughness.” A stellar amateur career won the attention of Emanuel Steward, a decorated American trainer who began schooling Lee at the famed Kronk Gym in Detroit. As “the white kid in a black city,” he was lonely. He read Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning, discovering the Holocaust survivor’s “theory of ‘Sunday neurosis’: that feeling of emptiness that people get when their hectic life slows down at the weekend. That’s me.” Lee is excellent on boxing preparation and technique. As an amateur, he won by counterpunching, but pro fighting rewards “viciousness.” A Steward disciple teaches him the “Suzie Q,” a technique meant to get an opponent leaning before you “dress him up”—flatten him. Prefight weigh\u002Dins prove easy to manipulate. He sits in saunas before getting on the scale, then chows down, his weight fluctuating by 10 pounds within hours. The book’s one clear flaw—a penchant for hackneyed philosophizing about the nature of combat—only shows up a couple of times."⭐ 4.7/5(28)
