By: Sarah Harer
Their blows continued to pound on each other like hailstorms.
Tompkins Sqaure was a beehive of activity.
Broken bloody mess.
Bong! Bong! Bong!
The champion was getting beaten, his face being pounded into a raw, wet hamburger.
But even when joking with each other, they both sensed a wall rising between them.
The boxer rolled with the punches hoping to find an opening against his opponent.