When I was still fighting professionally (by professionally I mean I was sanctioned by the boxing commission and being paid, so it was pro but only on a local/regional level, not like UFC or anything) I got matched up against this kid Dan who I fucking hated, we'd crossed paths before at seminars and stuff and he was just a grade A douche canoe. I knew I was going to absolutely mop the floor with him, and it was one of only two times I fought where I got to come out to a song. So to add insult to injury I wanted to pick the gayest, most unintimidating song possible because I thought it'd be hilarious to shit kick to him to hell and back after walking out to something girly. He came out to some gangsta Tupac song in a hoody making all these gang signs and shit, then screamed when he got into the ring.

I, however, came out to It's Raining Men, which had the (small) crowd in tears laughing and him looking at me like I was a pansy, which was what I was hoping for. I then proceeded knocked him out in 37 seconds flat because I staggered him with a right hook from the cheap seats to the liver (I slipped his overhand right and got beside him, hence me being at the right angle to hit him with a right hook to the body) and he fell forward and stumbled, lowering himself, his hands, and his head. I put my heel directly into the side of his mouth when he bent over and he fell like a sack of bricks. Whoever won, they had to play their entrance song as soon as the fight was called. So it ended with It's Raining Men blaring over the speakers while he was unconscious on the floor with me standing over him. Probably my most endearing memory from my competitive days I have.