That’s abundantly clear after watching her spar with one bitch after another in Tony’s Gym for a couple of hours. “C’mon, baby. Keep your chin up. You got her on the run now,” Jaqorya’s coach shouted from the sidelines. The girls’ boxing gloves pound against each other, coupled up with a few wild swings. The third time Jaqorya’s sparring partner misses her chin by a mile, Jaqorya leans in and goes to work on the girl’s ribs. The amateur backs away only to find her ass is trapped in a corner. “Ooooh.” Everyone around the ring winces collectively as their faces twist with pity and fascination. Jaqorya shows no mercy. By the time the sorry-ass referee steps forward to untangle the ladies, the woman’s opponent pitches forward head first onto the mat. Jaqorya throws up her hands in victory as her small team rushes to surround and pump her head with praise. I’m no more impressed than I would be watching a pit bull maul a teacup Yorkie. Exiting the gym, I head straight to the ladies’ locker room.
