The End Of An Error
T.D. Williams

Read this…. …then tell me why people hate on Ronda for losing one…

When Royce Gracie came crashing to the canvas (multiple times) with the ineffable thud of an unraveled Ponzi scheme, the most startling revelation wasn’t that “the emperor has no clothes,” but the fact that, in sports, we can no longer tell the emperor from the swindlers.

Royce’s narrative was, from the start, one spun from invisible silk and gold. Even before Kasushi Sakuraba left him looking clumsy, outclassed, overmatched, and technically unsound, his tale had evolved into the one of the most convoluted, prematurely stamped and certified in recent sports history. If Royce’s story has any meaningful value, it’s as sports meta-commentary: a lamentable tale of mass complicity by virtue of our own delusions, desires, and disaffection.

The aftermath of the one-sided thrashing yielded more of the same. Of course, Royce’s plight wasn’t the result of a new “Madden Curse,” nor was his loss comparable in any way to Tyson’s humbling at the hands of Buster Douglas. The comparisons are baseless, only seeking to give an easily digestible shape to our stubborn ignorance.

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