'I sacrificed for this fight': Ryan Garcia's long road to Gervonta Davis bout

RYAN GARCIA DIDN'T care anymore. Didn't care how famous he was. Didn't care who saw him or what they thought of him. Didn't care about much of anything as he sat hunched over a poker table in the Commerce Casino — «the most celebrated cardroom in the world,» it proclaims — one night during the lowest of his many lows. He stared down at another losing hand, betting on it anyway. Add money and reason to the list of things he no longer cared about.

He'd go to this casino outside Los Angeles often when the anxiety and the depression dug into him. He found a poker table was a good place to be when you didn't care. It was a place he could be alone without feeling lonely. It was a place that allowed magical thinking; he could look at the cards in front of him, no matter how bad, and convince himself it was the start of a winning hand. He'd bet it until it proved it wasn't.

He'd been there awhile on this night when he noticed a man watching him. It wasn't uncommon; Garcia is an undefeated lightweight boxer with millions of social media followers and a face recognizable for its objective handsomeness. But this man seemed more intent than most. He walked the periphery of the table, looking at Garcia from several angles before coming up behind him and speaking into his ear.

«Ryan, do you know who you are?»

Garcia, startled, turned to look at the man. Who is this guy? What does he want?

The man continued. «Do you know what you're called for?»

Garcia stared, finding himself without answers.

«God called you, and you know it,» the man said, his voice growing more insistent. «And what are you doing? What are you doing right now?»

Chills raced up Garcia's spine. What was he doing? At that moment, he was sitting at a poker table in a dark