When we talk about sports we always say that you “play” them. You play tennis, you play football, you play everything, but no one says that you “play” boxing. Boxing isn’t a game… Neither is coffee, gin, books, bars or friends. Fifty-two minutes full of dry Martinis, Ava Gardner, a boot cleaner from Baracoa, Neruda, Boxing at the Madison Square Garden, Rilke, literary articles, Cassius Clay, bullfights, Maradona, chocolate liqueurs, Francisco Umbral, love, Di Stefano, ham and over-easy eggs… Fifty-two minutes in the life of Manuel Alcántara. As Stevenson said, “Everyone dies young”. And you can die in peace if you’ve written “Treasure Island” or “Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde”.