I got a desk job.

Fightlook is an AI company that wants to predict fights. I talk about the work on @fightlookai. They gave me an analyst job, a laptop, and a chair that cost more than my first mouthguard. I asked if the chair could also cut weight. It could not.

Their model was very confident and very wrong. That is a twenty-three-year-old's trick, and I am not twenty-three. It liked clean numbers. Clean numbers do not tell the whole story. That is why they need me. I have already been through the messy ones: a jab that comes back late, a man who stops moving his head because his lungs filed a complaint.

So I watch tape and mark the moments a spreadsheet would clap for. The engine is supposed to get good enough to call a fight before the first bell. I told them if it ever bets against me in a rematch I am not having, we are even.