The Bittersweet Science

The notion of boxing as the “sweet science” is often thought to have been coined in 1956 by the great New Yorker writer A.J. Liebling. He used the term as the title of his definitive book on the sport, but he took it—with much appreciation—from a British sportswriter, Pierce Egan. In 1813, Egan wrote about the “sweet science of bruising” in his master work, Boxiana. The book is a collection of magazine pieces set in a bloody, bare-knuckled world opposite Jane Austen’s.

As for the “sweet science,” no one ever really defines it. A carefully thrown knockout punch to a sweet spot on the chin is one possible derivation. There’s also the play on a science with so little apparent sweetness. But that’s not it. The sweet science Liebling and Egan describe had more to do with British principles of “stoic virtues,” “generosity,” and “true courage”—altogether, life in a contradictory place. It’s a square ring, after all, where sometimes hope transcends the specter of an awful inevitability.

Or so I’ve come to think, on a journey I’ve begun in the past year, exploring how the sweet science can be used as a treatment for Parkinson’s disease—that increasingly common degenerative disorder of the nervous system, tied to a loss of the brain chemical dopamine, which is involved in movement, memory, motivation, and cognition.

Someone told her she moved like a wavy wind sock outside a used car lot. “Exactly how I feel,” she said.

In October 2022, a longtime tennis partner noticed something “strange” in my stride, along with a noisy shuffle. “Fatigue,” I replied with pique. The truth is I’m 75 and had known something might not be right for years, particularly the ominous hand tremors, as well as the night-of-the-living-dead gait and a facial expression to match. Add severe anxiety in public places and bizarre nightmares, some quite disturbing.

I found a specialist to resolve