"All I see is a chimpanzee begging for its life."

I always shout at prizefighters to stop smiling. All boxing fans (and more, all boxers) realize is that a grin is simply a flash of inverted logic. The message is supposed to read: you punched me, you think it hurt, but it didn't hurt.

Of course I said "inverted." The message is the exact reverse of the intended one. If every fighter wanted to prove his beard with every punch that didn't hurt, the game would fast deteriorate into an eternal return of jab, smile, jab, smile, jab, smile, jab. They wouldn't call it boxing anymore, they'd call it dental shilling. So instead a smile can only mean one thing: you punched me and you hurt me. Do it again. You may as well put on sign on your front door saying, "We are on vacation. Please do not rob house."

Lennox Lewis smiled twice before losing to 20-1 underdog Hasim Rahman -- a nuclear straight-hand right that briefly sent Lewis to Narnia and back. Naseem Hamed showed his mouthguard to Marco Antonio Barrera for 12 humiliating rounds. And I could have sworn I saw Shane Mosley flash a second-round grin at Vernon Forrest, just moments before the worst ninety seconds of his career. There are other, less notable examples. Do not smile, not ever. Even if you're not fighting, or not a fighter, don't smile. Just in case.

And now that it is properly introduced, I leave you with the comment of the day yesterday:

"I never smile if I can help it. Showing one's teeth is a submission signal in primates. When someone smiles at me, all I see is a chimpanzee begging for its life."