A Knockout With a Body Shot

Chris Jones describes the sick beauty of the well executed body shot:

Those many people don't know. I've taken a five-finger death punch like that, and let me tell you how it feels: A punch like that causes all sorts of strange satellite pain, express-delivered by your scrambled, panicking nervous system. You can feel a punch like that in the arches of your feet, in your balls, in your back, in your eyes. A punch like that somehow leaves you gasping for air and feeling as though you're full of air all at once. A punch like that makes you feel, frankly, like you're going to shit your trunks. But more than anything else, a punch like that puts a terrible picture in your head: You can see this black, spreading stain just under your skin, all of your body's essentials bleeding out and filling spaces where they don't have any business. A punch to the head can make you feel dizzy or woozy or sleepy, but it doesn't hurt, exactly. A punch like that one, like the one Hopkins slipped into De La Hoya, makes you feel as though you're about to die.
Body-shot knockouts are rare because of our modern obsession with the human head and its well-documented vulnerabilities; there's something almost hard-wired into us to equate punches with faces. Noses seem like a better target, because noses break, and besides, fans want to see blood. Body-shot knockouts aren't bloody until the victim tries to take a piss later. Body-shot knockouts also make it possible for fans to say that the opponent was weak or in the tank or just wanted to quit. They make it possible for the recipient to say that it was low or illegal or unsporting, the way Judah did on Saturday night. In a sport that often demands a more mathematical proof, body-shot knockouts are too abstract, too mysterious.
But they're beautiful precisely because of their rarity — because they're so fundamentally sound, because they require discipline and technique and art. Body-shot knockouts are boxing's equivalent of a great wraparound, open-field tackle in football, or those nights when Michael Jordan went after Grant Hill's ankles, because Jordan knew that's where Hill's worst weakness hid. They display an intelligence, a determination, a self-control that, for me, is far more impressive than fireworks.

Boxing is just a different sport.  The beauty is in the pain and sacrifice.  I think it actually takes a fighter to understand what the guys are going through.  They go beyond what people can comprehend.