Dear ladies and gentlemen,
The fight between José Canseco and myself seemed to be one of those things I could not do. I am 5 foot six, he is 6 foot six. I am 165 pounds, he's 265 pounds. I predicted a first round knockout. Unfortunately, it was I who would be unconscious. Steroids, or no steroids, he's one of the finest athletes the world has ever known. Unfortunately, I am a coward. A brave man would have known his limitations and refuse to fight. Unfortunately, I do not have the intestinal fortitude to back down from a challenge. Even if the challenge comes from a force of nature, unknown to the likes of mortal men. I should have said no. I have obligations to my ex-wife, my children, my radio station, my listeners, my friends, and, of course, to my Amy. Amy might have had to nurse me back to health (if that would have been possible) for the rest of her remaining 72 years. The most frightening moment was when I realized that Amy would do it. She would stand by my side, even if I could no longer stand. The man is a giant and I had no business being in the ring with him. To my great surprise, he never knocked me off my feet. I am far too proud of myself today and I don't see an end in sight. I may look injured, but the truly injured party will have to be Amy, as there will be no living with me after this. Even José Canseco himself said in several different articles that he hit me hard enough and numerous enough to kill me. None of that happened. I held my ground and took a three round fight with a man who outweighs me by 100 lbs is a full foot taller with an 18" reach advantage. I went the distance and never even got injured.
Every single major newspaper that had to refer to the fight as a draw went on to make the disclaimer that there is no such thing as a draw from a gigantic professional athlete against the guy from television.
These fights are almost always easy for me. Last night was not to be the case. Because of his height, I squatted down to approximately 5'2" tall, which was a good idea until he hit me straight down on the skull making me believe he had seriously dislodged the vertebrae in my neck. Consequently, my reaction was to stand up straight, just to make sure I could. When I did, he broke my nose and blackened my eye, all with the same punch. His fists were the size of Buicks. But he did not have the heart, and I did. Her name is Amy.
I am forced to be honest here. I always agree with what the judges say. I think pugilists, who say "I was robbed" are often right. But, the decision has been made and one must learn to live with that. I threw good punches and even rocked him once or twice, but with short punches he was able to knock me all the way across the ring. He was not able, not even once, to knock me off my feet. The only reason this fight became a draw, (as you will see in some of my pictures) if this were sanctioned fight, it would be illegal. The only reason José did not win is because of his great height, weight, and strength. He never knocked me down and I am the reigning champion. You do not take the belt away from the champion if he is still standing, and I was. Amy was my only trainer for this fight. She woke up at four
o'clock in the morning for my first training session. Then, around noon she was there for my second. Finally, at 7 PM, it to my third round. By third round, I actually means six more rounds.
When the fight is called a draw, it is very difficult to dedicate the fight someone. But when your opponent is a giant athlete and you are a small man with a modicum of talent, I cannot in all good conscience dedicate my victory to Amy. I can, on the other hand, dedicate the fact that I am not in the hospital with serious head wounds and brain damage to Amy. Sometimes your best is not good enough, and sometimes your best is Amy.
Interesting footnote: This letter was intended for me to brag. If you know me at all, you know that writing about my own abilities is something I'm quite adept at.
The fact is, I weathered the giant for the love of a woman who didn't even
want me to fight and would not have loved me less if I had lost. But apparently, there are things even I can't do.
I sent this letter to family, friends, listeners, and even my children. Somehow, it
turned into a love letter, with black eyes and a broken nose. I like it better that way. My family, including my ex-wife and my children, also my friends, listeners, and my business associates also love and are grateful for Amy. So they will tolerate this.
The fact is, the great José Canseco, and in fear of repeating myself, outweighs me by 100 lbs, is 12" taller and has an 18" reach advantage. What he didn't have was the heart of a warrior. (There, there is the bragging) the funny part is, Amy keeps my heart, which I truly believe is the heart of a warrior, in her purse, and only gives it back to me on occasions she believes it will be necessary. I have the heart of a 26-year-old girl who
would wake up at four in the morning to count punches on a digital
counter to make sure I threw more punches and harder punches than the
previous day.
Trust me, you do not wish to live in a small apartment with a short man whose business cards read under the heading of occupation “Napoleon.”
Apparently, there are two hearts of a warrior in this house, and Amy gets to keep them both and only lends the mind on occasion.
I am feeling very full of myself right now, so please forgive me if I wander. A picture paints 1,000 words. Look at my pictures and I have given you several thousand words.
Love,
Danny
P.S. If I am your father, I am fine. If you are my agent, I'm just as ugly as the last time you saw me, and if you are my friend, you should be drinking right now. And if you are Kathy, Amy's mom, you should be drinking right now, but not to me, but your daughter and the way you raised her. She is the most dedicated person I've ever known. I truly believe that giant could have killed me. Instead I got a black eye and a broken nose. Over the years I have become quite comfortable with both.
Okay enough trouble.
Check out the pictures or I will kill you.