Everyone, or almost everyone, wants to be a tough guy. Americans are infinitely interested in the question of who can kick whose butt.
As a kid growing up on the New Jersey shore, I was often involved in heated debates as to who was my school’s biggest badass. Even though there was an automatic three-day suspension for fighting, this involuntary vacation was well worth the price to defend your status as someone not to be trifled with. It was a matter of honor; you had to throw hands with anyone who challenged you.
With one exception. It was not considered dishonorable to excuse yourself from a stairwell battle with a boxer. Back then, boxing was considered the supreme martial art. No one messed with boxers. That is precisely why I took up the sport.
Mike Tyson called himself “the baddest man on the planet,” and in his prime most everyone believed him. They believed that mano-a-mano, no judo moves or karate chops could defend against his superhero-like powers of pugilistic destruction.