Glen Johnson and My Stringer & Avon Moment
Fans of The Wire will remember the scene toward the end of season three, when Avon Barksdale and Stringer Bell take a brief break from plotting each other’s downfall to meet on a rooftoop and talk about the old days while gazing out over Baltimore’s Inner Harbor.
When Stringer laments the real estate deals he wishes he could have made Avon asks him to lighten up and think bigger.
“Forget about that for a while, man,” he says. “Just dream with me.”
“We ain’t gotta dream no more, man,” Stringer says. “We got real shit.”
While on vacation last month I had my own “We Ain’t Gotta Dream No More” moment at a boxing gym in Miami.
Back before my All Balls Don’t Bounce podcast partners went big time, we were a three man outfit operating on a shoestring budget — and I don’t mean the fat laces b-boys used to rock in the 80s. We didn’t have cash for guests, so we relied on imitations because those came at my favourite price.
Free-99.
And because I’m a man of many accents and foe-NET-tick spellings the burden of impersonation often fell on me. So during an August 2011 discussion of cult favourite and perennial light-heavyweight contender Glen “The Road Warrior” Johnson, guess who stepped up to supply the sound bite?
Exactly. Fast forward to 33:55 to hear how it sounds.
Well, we ain’t gotta imitate no more, man. On a Friday morning in Miami I tracked down The Road Warrior himself, and he shared the story of his accent while also filling us in on his plans to keep fighting.
Are you ready to see the 44-year-old Johnson confront Antonio Tarver in a Battle of the Aged?
I certainly am not.
As much as I’ve enjoyed the ride I wish Johnson would walk away. He’s given a lot to the sport and deserves to retire with his health.
And if he quit today I would hire him tomorrow if I could.
As commentator.
No need to lose the accent.
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Morgan,
When Glen visited the CBC ahead of the Bute bout I told him I’d love to see a Hopkins rematch because the fight would look a lot different than in the late 90s. I’d barely finished the last syllable when he declared, in that beautiful lilt, “From your lips to God’s ears!”