Wilson "Fighting for Freedom"

"Fighting for Freedom" by T Darshan
Wilson Ortiz talks about how being in the ring keeps him out of prison…

One should not underestimate the intensity of training.  There is usually some street legend training the apprentice, an old-timer who grew up with Mike Tyson in the back of Brooklyn, or a seasoned fighter that sparred with Mayweather's father in his golden days.  Yet once on the other side of the wall, only few ex-inmates succeed.  Chalk it up to the rigorous training, which is far more brutal than anything behind the wall; or the competition, which is hungry and relentless and curiously more heartless than any inmate population.  The strict regimen imposed when training for a boxing match can feel like a second prison to ex-inmates.  All told, the majority striving for a boxing career bow out before they ever step into a ring.

Wilson Ortiz, a Beyond The Curve member, is defying the odds in this respect.  Tearing down all walls, he trained hard in prison and is training even harder in the streets.  Never mind that he has limited resources, a beautiful new born to care for, or a trying schedule that parole makes more complicated than convenient -- he nevertheless trains with the heart of a champion.  The gym is his second home; six months free, and Ortiz is a regular customer.  Yet there's no way to veil that something darker drives him, a certain fear onto freedom haunting him tirelessly.  "Everyone out here fights just to fight -- they are fighting for the love.  I'm fighting for my life, bro.  No lie.  I'm doing nothing wrong -- everything right -- and still everyday I fear they are going to throw me back in prison just cause they can… you feel like a fugitive to your own freedom.  It's hard to explain, waking up afraid like that every day," Ortiz said.

If no one else, Ortiz appreciates the stakes.  Prior to his incarceration, he fought in a championship bout at Madison Square Garden to earn his golden gloves, but lost.  "The distractions were everywhere then because everything came so easy for me.  Even if you lost, you felt you had a second chance to win it all back.  This time around, it's not the case.  There are no second chances for people like me -- I know that.  My current success is because I'm nothing else.  Adapt or die, man.  The fact I can't afford to lose makes me go two times harder, five times harder.  Anytime I see someone going harder than me, I fear I'm going back to prison.  If that guy beats me, where else is life going to land me?"   It becomes clear what distinguishes Ortiz from the pact:  Boxing is not a sport, nor a job, nor a dream worthy of his pursuit.  It is his life.  To fail would be equal to conjuring up the palpable death wish of re-incarceration -- a nightmare he's grown too wide awake to fall victim.

So much false hope and systemic alienation are accorded to ex-inmates that the only justifiable motivation may be fear.  Ortiz is transposing this fear unto freedom into a force onto nature inside the boxing ring; it truly is an inspiring, if not amazing story.  And while this fear unto freedom inculcating the ex-inmate's consciousness may be the latest social fact transpiring a new American shame, in the case of Wilson Ortiz it may produce a great fighter forever fighting for his freedom.