Inspiration....

Junior-welterweight Mickey Ward doesn’t own any big-time world title belts. He doesn’t live in a 40-room mansion, own a fleet of Jaguars or get invited to all the best parties. He’s never guest-starred on Frasier or stood on the middle rope and screamed to the world that he was the greatest.
Because he knows he’s not.
He doesn’t have blinding speed, quieting power or Sugar Ray moves. He’s just an ordinary guy working a blue-collar job in a blue-collar life, a part-time fighter who sometimes works in the down-and-dirty business of the fight game.
Mickey’s the guy who flips you the keys to his 1987 Ford pickup when your car breaks down and you’ve got the date of a lifetime. He’s the guy you have a beer with when you’re hot and tired and you’ve put in a long, hard, eight hours and, damn, you want to stop for a cold one.
Mickey Ward is the friend you look for when you’re out-numbered four-to-one and there’s a gorilla blocking the way out.
You won’t confuse him with the great fighters of our time. He’s not one of them. He’s just a tough guy with a heart the size of North Dakota, a fighter brought up with the simple understanding that losing isn’t so bad as long as they have to carry you out of the ring......