Tony Bellew walked past me...I had just been given a sign

I have reverted back to type, I have once again become an avid boxing fan. I have a goatee and I grew it, not because it was about to become a rock 'n' roll thing (back in 1992), but because Marvin Hagler was one of my heroes, one of the greatest Middle Weights we've ever seen, a man who fought in his real life, as much as in the ring. Anyway, I have been following boxing closely for around a year, this time around and it has really come to life, we have some great boxers here and on the way. Gennady Golovkin, Vasyl Lomachenko, Conor Benn (if he ends up anything like his Dad, we're in for a treat) and there are many others, Kell Brook, Artur Betbiev, Joshua (of course) and Tony Bellew.

Ah, Tony Bellew. I had a feeling he would beat David Haye but my head told me that Haye would win. The last time I had a feeling about a fighter winning a fight was way back to Holyfield/Tyson 1. I woke on the morning of the fight, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that Holyfield would win. I just knew that Tyson couldn't beat him. This isn't anything about thought, it was knowledge, as if it had already happened, I knew with 100% certainty, that Holyfield would win. I was working that day and nearly called home to tell my wife to put a bet on it but didn't, common sense told me not to and I listened.
I listened to my common sense this time around as well. I was in London for the day and was wondering around Greenwich when Tony Bellew walked past me. He was in a light grey tracksuit, on the phone and carrying a Prada bag, obviously a present for his wife. I didn't say anything to him, I had no reason to because I had just been given a sign...
                                                                                       
                                                                                         ...I nearly listened to my common sense.

I listened to the fight on the radio, on the train on the way home. There was something so Rocky (ironically) to this fight. One guy trains in the public, posting regularly on twatter and Facebook from sunny climates where the other guy is pounding the streets of rainy, grey Liverpool, probably ending up at a Butcher's warehouse to pummel sides of beef and pork with his bare fists. You had the bad guy and the good guy with the odds stacked against him but with heart and determination, he had the eye of the tiger, without a doubt. Maybe Sly Stallone needs to sue for plagarism.

I've never placed a bet before but as Saturday was my wife's birthday, it did help pay for dinner.

Thanks Tony and what a great fight!