Inside the Mind of Brandon Rios

This post could just as easily be called “What’s Going on in Brandon Rios’s Head Aside from Heavy Rotation of the Word ‘Fuck’”?

Last week brought with it the news of a bout between Danny Garcia and Brandon Rios, and I couldn’t be more excited about it. This is mostly due to my love of Rios, but also largely in part to my deep dislike of Danny Garcia. (Warning: For some reason, I’m unable to refer to Danny Garcia as anything other than his full name or an expletive, both of which will probably make their presence known here. Also-trigger warning-Angel Garcia is mentioned, in case you need a toilet or trash can nearby for the impending violent dry heaving that is sure to occur upon the mere mention of his name. On second thought, just read this entire piece while either on or near a toilet.) I also just enjoy watching Rios in all his unhinged glory, and the first Rios vs. Alvarado fight will remain one of my all time favorites.

I’m elated over this fight for two reasons: 1.) From what I’ve seen of Danny Garcia (which isn’t much, because refer back to the first paragraph where I talk about how I can’t stand him) he’s not a very interesting fighter. Yes, he pushes the gas pedal when necessary and one really can’t deny his talent (I’ve tried), but I’ve yet to see anything too impressive in the way of an all out, toe-to-to brawl; and 2.) Rios is batshit crazy, and I mean that in a good way. One of things I find most intriguing about Rios is that the guy smiles everytime he’s punched in the face, and  I’m not sure Danny Garcia will know how to handle that.  (To be fair, I’m also not sure that anyone save for a trained professional knows how to deal with that.) 

It’s not the smile itself that mystifies me, but what the smile represents-an absolute, all out war mentality with a fuck-you-I’m-not-quitting attitude.  That, or Rios is just thinking about when he’s going to get his next scoop of Baskin Robbins. Either way, join me below as I delve deeper into the elusive meaning of the smile behind the punch. 

1. Ice Cream

Who doesn’t smile when they think of ice cream? (Aside from vegans and the lactose intolerant, and even then they’ve taken it upon themselves to invent lactose-free and soy ice cream, so my point still stands.)   The mere thought of Rocky Road has evoked mirth in even the most stoic of humans, and the Dalai Lama himself once said “If you think you’re too small to make a difference, try sleeping with a mosquito in the room.” Granted, this has nothing to do with ice cream, but when I googled “Quotes about Ice Cream from Major World Leaders” it was either this or some quote from Steve Jobs that isn’t nearly as cool. (Ha. Ha.)

Anyway, ice cream can move mountains and solve the problems of the people, both big and small, and for that it’s deserving of a a smirk at the very least.  Ice cream brings people together, and  I’m pretty sure I even know Rios’s favorite flavor:

                                                                   Stop shaking your head, we all saw this coming.

2. Dogs

 Everyone loves dogs, even those who say they’re allergic or claim to be immune to the charming powers of the canine.   While I can’t be absolutely certain what kind of dog Rios is thinking of while grinning (and I hope like hell it isn’t a chihuahua), I’m sure that some lucky pooch somewhere has captured his heart-and yes-his smile. 


                                 This isn’t Rios’s dog. This is my dog, who is clearly not a Golovkin fan.
3. Trick-or-Treating

Training camp be damned, Halloween is coming up and Rios has kids. Trick-or-treating is a rite of passage for all children, teenagers, and those few lucky adults over the age of 23 who are the same height as a fifth grader and are acting as the chaperone for their 10 year old niece.  ‘Tis the season for Kit Kat, Butterfinger, and those really cool Reese’s pumpkins as it truly is the most wonderful time of the year.  Besides, even if he has no interest in candy he can still sport a badass costume. (But never one of those lame t-shirts that says “This is my Costume,” only derelicts and Pennywise [not the band] wear those. )

                                                               Someone gave Danny Garcia a rock 😦  
4. The Smell of a New Book

I’m not sure how one would  physically carry this out, but take all of your previous notions and pre-formed ideas about traditionally good smelling things and get rid of them (probably a good idea to do this on a bulky item collection day), because friends, few smells induce a smile like the smell of a new book.  Although his image might suggest otherwise, Rios could secretly be a bibliophile of massive proportions, hell-bent on sustaining the image of a shorter, lighter, foul-mouthed modern-day Rocky.

Picture this, if you will: An obviously tired Rios, exhausted and spent after a long day of training, collapses into a red leather arm chair with a hardback tome. Possibly “War and Peace,” or perhaps the ninth installation in the Harry Potter series, whose title I can’t remember but which was long as fuck and really intimidating looking at first glance.  


                                       Not buying it? Me either, but here’s a picture of a book anyway.
5. (And most likely): Beating the Shit out of Angel Garcia
When you really think about it, this makes either the least amount of sense or the most amount of sense. While it’s somewhat likely that in truth Brandon was never thinking of beating up Angel Garcia until quite recently, it is far MORE likely that he’s really been pondering the idea since he was in the womb.  Because surely, deep down inside all of us there’s a tiny, sweet piece of something that yearns for the day when Angel Garcia will get caught by the cheapest of shots as a consequence for his annoying and ever present running mouth. 

And who better to deliver this shot than Rios himself? It’s almost as if Brandon were privy to the knowledge that Angel Garcia was destined to become a douchebag of immense proportions before Angel Garcia came to fulfill this prophecy. And Rios, being the gift from God that he is (along with breakfast tacos) was sent from the spiritual world to the physical in order to vanquish this, our true mortal enemy.  But not, like, kill him or anything. Just shut him up for a minute.  With his fists.

 (Those are either boxing gloves or Rios is suffering from the same affliction as Evan Peters on “AHS: Freak Show.” Also, here I’ve            reduced Brandon’s communication skills to that of a Pokemon.)

I’ll continue to hope that Angel Garcia will someday stop talking (thought not as a result of any bodily or neurological harm and by choice only ) on Twitter at @littlejenna37 or at junkinthetrunks37@gmail.com

                                                                         

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GGG vs Canelo: Choose Your Babysitter

Close your eyes, my friends (after you read this intro, that is) and picture with me the front door to your residence. The doorbell rings unexpectedly, you aren’t expecting company, and since you’re nothing like me you answer it anyway. On the front step are two very recognizable men, one in a suit and one in a shirt emblazoned with the initials “CA” (I assume this is their normal walking-around wear). From the outstretched hand of the suited man is a flier with the words “Need a Babysitter? Please call: …..” (only there’s really a number there not a bunch of dots).

The men in front of you are none other than Gennady Golovkin and Canelo Alvarez, and for some untold reason they’ve become babysitters. 

Clearly, you’re a bit angry as they’ve ignored the “no soliciting” policy of the neighborhood. But you quickly forget this anger, as  at the very least they aren’t peddling the shitty Chinese restaurant up the street, an irritating occurrence you’ve become used to. And also-it’s GGG and Canelo. You politely accept the flier, shake hands with both, and close the door (after telling Canelo that he lost to Lara). Now you’re faced with a bigger problem: which one do you choose? 

Luckily, I’ve done the hard work for you. After extensive hours of research on the subject, I present a comparison of how the two men stack up in the most crucially super important points to consider in selecting a sitter for your child. (Or adult. I don’t know your life. )  Read below to reach enlightenment:

Birth Order

Birth order could certainly serve as an important factor in choosing a caregiver for your child. After all, in multi-children households, who else do irresponsible parents often look to as a “suitable” caregiver but the older sibling? As the youngest child and only girl in the family, I was countlessly left in the care of my two older brothers- one of whom openly hated me (it’s not his fault, I was clearly the favorite) and the other who often took to pelting the-one-who-hated-me and me with pennies or anything else within arm’s reach when the mood struck him. (There were also several incidents that involved me being tied to a chair with my jump rope and a sock stuffed into my mouth because I was being “too loud and annoying” [lies], but there’s another time and place for those anecdotes.) 

At any rate, even though the experiences frequently include incidents that one might equate to child abuse, baby sitting a sibling could easily provide one with the experience necessary to be a caregiver for a child. Unfortunately, for this particular dilemma, both are the youngest in their families. However, GGG IS a twin, and while I’m not certain who was born first I’m gonna go with it was him for the purposes of this article. Clearly, this puts him in a position of superiority over his seconds-to-minutes younger brother and gives him the upper hand in this category. 

Number of Children Legally Assigned to Them (AKA: How Many Kids Do They Have?)

One. Each. Not making this easy on anyone. Care.com is starting to look pretty good. Side note but relevant-I just had an urge to see if a “true” Baby Sitter’s Club exists outside of the books. It doesn’t. 

How Old is the One Child They Each Have?

This is a little tricky, y’all. Understandably, both men likely prefer to keep the lives of their loved ones (especially their children) under wraps (no pun intended unless it was funny), so little information exists on the kiddos. However, I once saw an episode of “24/7” where Canelo said that his daughter was born when he was a teenager. As I don’t know his exact age when she was born and we technically have seven years to work with, I’m gonna go with 15. Seeing as Canelo is now 27 years old (a slightly depressing fact when I think of all the bullshit I was doing at 27), that would make her 11ish, depending on her birthday. According to one of the scant sources I found online addressing the subject, GGG has a son in primary school and recently welcomed a daughter into the world. Even though GGG has more children, Canelo has more years of experience, so this round goes to him. 

PSA-While doing research for this, I found an article referring to Canelo’s daughter as his “seed.” Outside of fertility clinics, this should probably never happen.  

Languages Spoken

I’m not a parent, but as someone who has seen parents in public with their children (and is the proud leasee of cable each month), parents seem to be OBSESSED with their offspring being multilingual. And why not? While being anything more than unilingual has been all the rage in pretty much every country besides the US for decades now, we’re finally starting to catch up. So of course, parents would want a sitter who can help little Jackie and Judy learn Blackfoot (the most metal language that came up when I googled “Names of Languages”). 

In the Language Department (not a true department), Canelo speaks Spanish fluently and some English-very little though. GGG speaks four languages: Kazakh, Russian, German, and English.  While I’m super impressed that he speaks four languages, I’m going with a draw in this category. Yes, it’s crazy impressive that he’s quadrilingual, but when are my fictional children ever going to use Kazakh? German would be really cool to know for Oktoberfest, but in South Texas English or Spanish would more than suffice.  

Ginger vs Sandy Blonde or Light Brown, Whatever Color GGG’s Hair is Dependent Upon Lighting

Since this is vital in choosing a caregiver for your loved one, I’ll spare any intro and jump right in. 

Famous Male Redheads

Seth Green-Most notable for his role as Kenny Fisher in “Can’t Hardly Wait.” Is also short and seems kind of funny. 

Ron Howard-Who could look at Richie Cunningham and not automatically think of a warm blanket of trust and dependability?

Rupert Grint- Duh. 

David Caruso-The cheesy, sunglasses wearing pseudo-badass on CSI: Miami who will never be as great as Gil Grissom.

Prince Harry-I mean, he’s a prince. 

Famous Male Guys with GGG’s Hair Color: (Credit to Xazu 20 and the list “Beautiful Blonde Men” on IMBD for their assistance.)

Justin Hartley-He’s an actor of some sort.

Ryan Philippe-That dude who knocked up Reese Witherspoon.

David Beckham-Should have been at the top of this list.

Ashley Parker Angel-This guy who went “Girl name, boy name, porn last name” when choosing his celebrity moniker.

David Bowie-Fucking. Icon. (From a non-fan, even.)

Jason Mewes-Though I love him, I’m a bit (read: very) confused as to how he ended up on a list of “beautiful” men.  The incomparable Jay to Kevin Smith’s “Silent Bob,” he’s the offensive, druggie loudmouth we all love to-well love, really.

Canelo takes this one. Also, I think we’ve all learned that there’s a definite “put up or shut up” quality associated with being a redhead, as not one of those peeps is unknowable. 

Who is Better at “The Game of Life?”

This question is not being posed in order to provoke thought or to be existential,  I just really want to know who is better at the board game “The Game of Life,” because that’s what you play when you babysit someone (or at least it was when I was being babysat  by people other than my brothers 20+ years ago OMG).  To be honest, I see Canelo as more of a video game guy. An X-Box player, really.  He probably thinks that board games are boring or beneath him, or even worse he plays “Risk.” GGG seems more willing to enjoy a riveting game “The Game of Life” with his charges, and probably picks the red car.  Dude might even play “Candyland” if you remember to add the word “please” to your request. Clear winner-GGG. 

The Verdict?

Going off of points alone, Canelo would appear to be the obvious choice. But, since I like GGG better I’m going with him for the win. (Strange turn of events, no?) Here’s hoping that’s not the only decision he gets this weekend. 

PS-I’m fine with a knockout, too. 

If you’re bored and on Twitter, you’d an find me at @littlejenna37, or by searching “Junk in the Trunks” on Facebook. 


Who’s Your (Baby) Daddy?

Speaking from experience (and I’m sure my fellow boxing enthusiast sisters can agree), SO much of being a female boxing fan is combating the idea that we’re only in it for the hot, shirtless man meat. While this certainly can be true in some instances (Sergio Martinez, for example, a God among men who has probably always “woke up like this”), it is definitely not always the case. But instead of refuting this shady side of female boxing fandom, for the purposes of this piece I’ve decided to just go with it-and talk some hot boxing man meat. (TBH, that was gross even just to type, but it’s staying because I’m still laughing at it.)

Before jumping into the fun, a couple of side notes: First, this isn’t based solely on looks. (Just mostly) As a woman of substance, I’ve put thought into additional characteristics or traits that I feel also make the man attractive. And second-as was brought up to me recently after proclaiming my love of Pau Gasol- I have a thing for Hispanics. So there’s a pretty decent chance that this list will be swayed in their favor.

One:

It should come as no great surprise to anyone who has interacted with me on the most remote of boxing talk levels who my number one pick is. Not only does this man have THE BEST hair in boxing (and pretty much the free world),  he’s also an intellectual, which is a bit of a rare find in this sport. He’s a man of varied talents, including playing the long flute thingy and meditating, he enjoys reading, AND he likes dogs. (He also drives a Prius, for the environmentally conscious gal). He can switch from being soft and well-spoken to kind of scary, kill-you-in-the-street-and-leave-your-body-in-the-trunk-of-a-Prius at seemingly the drop of a dime (which I know for a fact some girls find hot):


Number One with a bullet is Keith Thurman. (Bonus points for the boxing moniker in regards to insemination. Because as we all know, in baby making as well as in knock outs, all it really takes is “One Time.”)

Two

Throughout my time as a chick, I’ve heard guys almost ENDLESSLY describe this apparent mythological female when in search of their ideal mate. Someone with a great sense of humor who can sit at home with him on the couch and genuinely enjoy watching a game (or a fight), but can also look super glam and gorgeous on his arm at a party. A girl who is smart enough to carry on a conversation but not above silly bar talk while knocking back a few beers with friends. Someone who can effortlessly navigate life on her own but still needs his help with things that make absolutely no sense, like Excel spreadsheets and any kind of finance talk because all of the words just mold together into this kind of weird, abstract drivel.  The veritable “lady in the streets and [redacted] in the sheets.” And the male form of this unicorn is none other than:


Leo Santa Cruz. Guaranteed, if you are a woman and are stranded on the side of the highway with a flat, LSC is pulling over to change your tire. (Or he’ll at least wait with you until AAA arrives.)

Three 

Friends, remember the cute-but-goofy guy back in school? I’m talking middle, high school, or college here. Elementary school doesn’t count, because EVERYONE is goofy (and usually covered in boogers) so this species of male wouldn’t necessarily stand out. A guy like this probably exists in most workplaces as well. He’s exactly as the title states: cute but goofy. And sometimes  a little too goofy, where you might start to question your attraction to him but then realize that it’s an endearing trait. He’s infinitely confident and was probably born comfortable in his own skin, and he always makes you (and everyone else) laugh even though he typically relies on physical humor and not so much witty banter. If you haven’t figured this one out yet,  you more than likely don’t spend much time on social media. Number three:

IMG_0597

Vasyl Lomachenko. I bet he’s really fun to hang out with, but definitely upstages your Halloween costume every year.

Four

I hate myself for Number Four but there’s no escaping the truth. Sometimes, you just can’t help being attracted to the all encompassing popular guy. He excels at everything, he’s uber confident, hella likeable, and it’s almost like he can’t lose (even though you’re of the opinion that he’s been handed AT LEAST one L by a Cuban contender):

IMG_0598

 Number Four is Canelo Alvarez, damn it.

Five

There’s something overtly attractive about a pensive, sullen, drama queen of a man. Someone who seems to carry the weight of the world atop his tattooed shoulders.  A man who rations his smiles for a few interactions with his family and riding go karts on 24/7. A man who rarely shies away from referring to himself in third person; a trait that for him merely teeters on the line of douchbaggery, while in others is a definitive leapfrog into asshat territory:

IMG_0599

Last on our list is Miguel Cotto. I wonder if he laughs at knock knock jokes, y’all.  Clearly, mystery is part of his charm.

If you’ve got connects to any of the above or find yourself bored on social media, I can be found on Facebook by searching “Junk in the Trunks” or on Twitter @littlejenna37

Damn the Man! Save The Advocates!*

If you ever find yourself driving down the intersection between Buena Vista and San Jacinto in a residential area on San Antonio’s West side, be prepared to see it. No, it’s not the proverbial  bird, or plane (but there is a hero involved).  It’s a boxing ring. Outside. Covered under a pavilion named after the donor and everyone’s favorite Chairman of the Board of NuStar Energy, Bill Greehey, and situated alongside the two story structure which houses it’s  office space. 

Meet: The Advocates Social Services. (But you can call them The Advocates.) 

A brief history: Started in 1978 by Executive Director Charlie Mata, The Advocates strived to assist the needy in obtaining necessary resources such as food and medical insurance. In 1999, the  Boxing Youth Program, a free ancillary service created by Mata’s son, Jason, was born. Jason saw the program as a new and creative way to help youth in the area stay off the streets, in addition to overcoming age old issues of  bullying, poor school attendance, and low self-esteem. Now, four days a week, youth can be seen diligently practicing their footwork, jabs, and shadow boxing outdoors on the grounds of the agency. 

Although the program itself is situated in the Prospect Hill area, it’s outreach spans far greater than that. Data provided by Mata show that in the years spanning 2013-2015, youth enrolled in San Antonio ISD, Edgewood ISD, Eastside ISD, Northside ISD, South San ISD and even a private school student benefitted from the program. (For you out of towners, that basically encompasses three different geographic areas of the city.) Additionally, the program has a contract with Haven for Hope and provides after-school services for homeless children residing at the shelter.  Referrals are also received through the Bexar County Juvenile Probation Office.

And while the program could stop there-it doesn’t. Jason stresses the importance of community outreach to participants  through such outlets as the Justice for Youth March in 2015. In addition, the agency has played host to several  public seminars on topics affecting the youth themselves, such as bullying and abuse. Most famously, Mata spoke on a panel alongside champion Sergio “Maravilla” Martinez and Olympian Marlen Esparza at an anti-bullying event in 2013. 

But now, the agency is in trouble. While currently operating Monday-Thursday from 5:30-7:00 in the evenings, The Boxing Youth Program may soon be forced to close it’s doors due to high operating costs, low (consistent) volunteer turnout, and few donors. Mata has appealed to funding sources to no avail, and the agency may consequently resort to  drastically cutting services as a result. 

Now-let’s be honest. For some reason, there’s still a stigma attached to a sport that’s basic premise is to beat the pulp out of the guy standing in front of you. While true fans of the sport understand that there’s much more to it than that, at face value this is what boxing touts, and it could be a clear barrier to funding that Mata is experiencing.  However, an important aspect of the program is that it provides non-combat training in a combat sport. (No, that’s not a typo.)

In essence, youth are peer trained in the basics of the sport: how to throw a punch, perfect their stance, move their feet, and (most importantly) protect themselves at all times, all without actually sparring against each other. Oh, at some point this can be introduced, but it’s completely voluntary and there’s no expectation or pretense of it occurring. Most importantly,  the onus is on participants to prove that they are mature enough to take on the responsibility of competing in the sweet science. This is proven not only physically, but through their character and actions as well, both inside the program and out.  And for those who prove capable and choose to compete, Mata is with you. The boxing program has boasted competitors in the Golden Gloves tournament in San Antonio and has hosted it’s own tournaments as well. 

So, if you’ve gotten this far, you’re probably wondering how you can help. You can start by checking out the agency’s website: boxingsanantonio.com, Facebook page: The Advocates Boxing Youth Program, and Twitter page: @TASSSAT.  Read about their programs in greater depth (by writers more skilled than I), and see for yourself all the good that The Advocates have done. If you live nearby and would like to volunteer (or have additional questions) contact Jason Mata at jmata146@gmail.com. And don’t keep quiet about it-spread the word about all the good that can come from punching something. 

Facebook: Junk in the Trunks

Twitter: @junk_n_trunx

*Obvi, there’s no “Man” to truly damn here, but if there’s a person alive who can knowingly pass up an “Empire Records” reference when one is so blatantly handed to him/her, I hope I never meet them.

Six Things that Kovalev and a Shark Have in Common

I know, I know. It seems like kind of an odd comparison. But after doing extensive research on marine life (i.e.: I watch “Shark Week” annually) and observing the sadistic and creepy habits that are Kovalev, the two actually overlap in certain ways. I mean, sure, neither one could survive in the other’s respective environment without some serious plastic surgery, but aside from that the similarities virtually abound! Peep this: 

 6. They’re Both From Russia 

That is, if the shark in question is a Hammerhead or a Pacific Salmon shark. (A close relative of the Mako shark, which according to the Discovery Channel is basically a giant asshole.) Blue Sharks, also found in Russian waters, are sometimes known for their “tragic attacks on swimmers and divers.” While I can’t say with certainty how Krusher views aquaphiles, it’s common knowledge by this point that he’s fairly well renowned for tragic attacks on his peers, too. 

5. They Travel Long Distances to Feed

 The Blacktip Shark, for example, migrates long distances for its meals. Much in the same way that Kovalev migrated to America to fight. To, um….make money to buy food with. 

4. That Cold, Dead Stare

 You know what I’m talking about:

  

                                                                                      It practically eats your soul

  
                                                                  Twinsies! (Those are boxing gloves, by the way.)

3. They’ve Both Amassed a Body Count

 Sadly, following his sixth round knockout to Kovalev in 2011, Roman Simakov was hospitalized, lapsed into a coma, and died three days later. Much in the same way that “Jaws” was responsible for the deaths of all of those kids during his rampage at Amity Island back in 1974.

2. They Can Unhinge Their Jaws

….. Juuuuuust kidding.

But if Kovalev was open to learning, able to make it happen, and not afraid to live a deviant lifestyle I see a VERY lucrative side gig in his future. 

1. They Stalk Specific Victims Rather than Attack at Random

According to the article, “Great Whites Hunt Just Like Hannibal Lecter” (I swear I didn’t make that up) one need look no further than last (last) Saturday night as proof of the same with Kovalev. Not only did he completely dominate Pascal without exuding much effort, Kovalev also openly admitted his intent to “punish” the fighter for running his mouth outside the ring, and didn’t even attempt to clock Adonis Stevenson (or Max Kellerman, because why not?) when he had the perfect chance to. 

So kids, the next time you attend a Krusher bout, toss a wooden seal his way. You just might be surprised at what comes next. (But FYI, if he doesn’t leap to catch it in his mouth, it might be time to run like a motherfucker.)
Facebook: Search “Junk in the Trunks”

Twitter: @junk_n_trunx

e-mail: junkinthetrunks37@gmail.com
References: 

“Great Whites Hunt Just Like Hannibal Lecter,” Seth Borenstein and Science Writer. Abcnews.go.com

“Sharks in the Russian Seas,” en.sharkiller.com

“Sergey Kovalev,” Wikipedia.org

What If Wladimir Klitschko Was Your P.E.* Teacher?

While I understand that this would probably NEVER be the case, and that having a Doctoral degree in Sports Science in no way relegates one to teaching P.E. classes, humor me. After all it could always happen, although probably in some alternate universe where he wasn’t a multi-millionaire and Vitali wasn’t the current mayor of Kiev. 

First (and in my opinion, most important), would his name be Dr. Klitschko or Dr. Steelhammer? Because if I’m a tenth grader who has just received my class schedule you can be damn sure I’m not going to any gym class taught by a Dr. Steelhammer. (Or a Dr. Klitschko, to be fair. Or just any P.E. class in general, I hated sports back then.) Aside from the fact that the name Dr. Steelhammer is intimidating as is, let’s not ignore the pornographic implications that come (pun intended [Also-Editor’s Note-It’s really hard  (SEE?!) to write that sentence without some sort of sexual innuendo being attached to it]) along with a name like Dr. Steelhammer. I would imagine that trying to get through a semester with Dr. Steelhammer would be akin to constantly attempting to ignore a giant silver cock in the room.  His name itself would present the daunting, semester-long task of refraining from dick jokes and awkward giggling. (And I’m sure there would be absolute hell to pay for all of the giggling in the form of push-ups. Oh push-ups.)

 But it’s not like Dr. Klitschko would be any better. Ukrainians are scary, and anyone who disagrees is either Ukrainian or hasn’t seen “The Orphan.” (And sidenote, what is the deal with Klitschko family nicknames? “Dr. Ironfist?” NO. At what point were “Dr. Klitschko” and “Other Dr. Klitschko” ruled out as potential monikers?)  

Second, the guy (and his brother) are on a freaking postage stamp. The 2010 Ukrainian stamp, to be exact. How do you even begin the feat of impressing someone at that level of athletic prowess with your feeble attempts at Kickball? Not happening. I wonder if Kickball is even allowed in the Klitschkonian Era (again, humor me) of P.E., or if it’s nothing but that weird exercise with a sledgehammer and a tire or the Ann Wolfe form of training using pads and a truck. (Shoutout, Texas!)  

And supposing Kickball (or any other team sport) were allowed under Klitschko’s reign, how on Earth would teams be picked? In the normal fashion, by appointing team captains or assigning numbers or perhaps more in the Shirley Jackson form of lottery? (Which I suppose would truly only work if you had an uneven number of students, anyway.)

Last (although this might not seem important), the guy speaks four languages. FOUR. What if he decides to switch things up one day and busts out in a new language that no one understands? And THEN, what if he made everyone who didn’t understand that language do push-ups as punishment?! I guess if you’re looking on the bright side, everyone would be swole. But at what price?

At what price?

Still on the Twitter: @junk_n_trunx 

*P.E.=Physical Education, for those of you who aren’t down with South Texas slang. We can’t be bothered with a lot of syllables here, y’all. It’s hot. 

The History of the Red Ribbon

No, not the DARE kind. 

And disclaimer: the word “history” is being used loosely as I could only find one source, so consider yourself forewarned.

We’ve all seen it. A proud Mexican boxer strutting to the ring wearing a red ribbon with his last name emblazoned upon it tied aroud his forehead, popularized by Julio Cesar Chavez Sr. and carried on by JCC Jr. and, well, every other Mexican boxer currently fighting and their fans. (And I also saw them at the USA vs. Mexico soccer match earlier this year, although I was too busy trying to keep my husband out of jail to inquire as to why.)

According to Jose Sulaiman, this whole trend started before JCC Sr.’s fight against Edwin Rosario, which probably occurred at some point before my birth. (Editor’s note: No it didn’t. I was 7.) As legend has it, Rosario was alleged to have been utilizing black magic against Sr., and it was also reported that they had “his [Sr.’s] picture upside down in the refrigerator in an ice bucket.” Jose Sulaiman, Hook to the Liver.  Enter a friend of Hector “Macho” Camacho’s, who recommended that Sr. wear something red to the ring in order to ward off sorcery. Cue the red ribbon. And boom! Chavez won the fight and evil spirits the world over were befallen at least for that night. (I made up that last part. But it could have happened!)

I kind of feel like I owe you all an apology, folks, because I really wanted this to be better. I thought that FOR SURE the history would encompass years of red ribbon headband wearers fighting various battles. Surely the Mayans had something to do with this, right?! But all I got was Jose Sulaimain said a friend of Camacho’s hooked up Sr. and he won. Not a bad story, but not the best either.

So, in the spirit of creativity, I’ve comprised a list of additional reasons why Sr. might have started sporting that iconic red ribbon headband. An official list, if you will:

The Official Junk in the Trunks List of Reasons that Sr. Wears a Red Headband:

1. This is an easy one, guys (and girls, of course): maybe he likes the color red. I mean, if my job would allow it, I’d wear a different colored headband (but probably mostly pink) with a different last name on it every day AND I’d incorporate a roman numeral at the end, just for the fuck of it! 

2. Red is the color of blood, and he’s a warrior, right? It just makes sense.

3. It’s one of the colors in Mexico’s flag, although I have to say this is the least likely of reasons to wear a red headband. Sr. is a national icon, he could DEFINITELY have a headband with all of the colors in the flag made for him. Shoot, he could wear a replica of the flag itself across his forehead if he wanted to. So this probably isn’t it.

4. “Rambo” wore one, and he was a badass. But this is kind of a “chicken and the egg” scenario. Which came first?! Technically, Wiki told me that “First Blood” was released in 1982 and Chavez fought Rosario in 1987. So really, he could have been mirroring the badassery that was Rambo. Or MAYBE Rambo is such a badass that he could see the future and knew in advance that Sr. would be the quintessential badass and decided to wear the red headband in an effort to be as great as Sr. Either explanation makes perfect sense, so pick your favorite and run with it. 

5.  It matches his skin tone nicely. Not just anyone could pull that off and still look good, but Sr. did it. (And still does. Not that I have a thing for old guys, but that man is a hottie. Truth.)

And finally:

6. Maybe the top part of his head would fall off without it. Remember that urban legend about the girl who wore the ribbon around her neck? When it was removed, HER HEAD FELL OFF! What if that was the case with Sr. at the time and we just didn’t know about it? A cynic might point out that there were pictures of Sr. taken before the headband (and after) where it was missing and his head was intact, but there’s a perfectly reliable explanation for that: makeup. Lots of it. (Or a flesh toned headband.) And once he became big time, maybe he just super glued the top part of his head to the rest of his head! (Or had some kind of surgery. The possiblities abound!) And now that the top part of his forehead has been permanently affixed to the rest of his head, he just wears the red headband for nostalgic reasons. 

It’s also possible that he still wears the headband to ward off evil spirits before Jr’s fights. But if that’s the case, it might be time to switch up the technique a little, as the luck is clearly wearing off. Except in Texas. You’ll always win here, Jr.! (Editor’s note: I know he won his last fight, but c’mon.) 

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The site where I obtained the story about Sr. is: http://wbcboxing.com/wbceng/calendar-gancho/2013/06