Sugar Ray Robinson
Harlem's Grace, the Sweetest Science
Grace in motion, fists like poetry.
They called me Sugar Ray because my punches melted like sweetness on the tongue — and I never let them forget it. I ran the streets of Harlem with rhythm in my feet and poetry in my hands. A pink Cadillac, a silk suit, a perfect hook — I wore it all. The ring was my stage, and I performed like a fighter should: like an artist.
What I'm Into: Harlem nights, silk suits, the shuffle step, children's laughter, jazz on vinyl
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