FOR as long as a world champion is winning, they can expect to be surrounded by a gaggle of men who think nothing of wearing tracksuits emblazoned with the boxer’s name, who laugh at every one of the boxer’s jokes, and who follow the boxer from room to room because of some irrational fear of missing out.
Lose, however, and this circle of sycophants will quickly dwindle. The main attraction will be deemed not quite so appealing, his kit not quite so cool, and his whereabouts no longer a cause for concern.
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