Vergil Ortiz Jr. reacts to TKO 'changing the whole sport of boxing,' gives 3 fights he's targeting for 2025
Vergil Ortiz Jr. has a new hit list of targets after a career-best win over Israil Madrimov in February.
Ortiz defeated Madrimov by unanimous decision on the stacked Artur Beterbiev vs. Dmitry Bivol 2 undercard to retain his WBC interim super welterweight title. Now the American is setting his sights on the other titleholders at 154 pounds, as well as one of the weight class' bigger names.
"[I want to fight Sebastian] Fundora for sure, he has the WBC [world title]," Ortiz Jr. told Uncrowned and DAZN's "Ariel x Ade" show on Tuesday. "I believe [Jermell] Charlo is a good fight. There's a lot of people saying that he's done, and then you've got people saying I can't beat him. I feel like people would love to see that fight. I think that he's a good fighter and I'd love the opportunity to fight him.
"As for [number] three, probably [IBF champion Bakhram] Murtazaliev."
Although rumors have swirled in recent days about a potential Ortiz vs. Murtazaliev fight on a June card being planned by Turki Alalshikh, Ortiz denied that was the case.
"I learned about it on Twitter like everybody else," Ortiz said of potential Murtazaliev negotiations. "I'm just like, 'OK, what's going on?' I talked to my manager and I talked to my dad, just trying to get into the loop of things. As far as right now — because I heard it's supposed to happen in June or something — well, my hands are not ready. I have a cut that I got in the [Madrimov] fight because of the head-butts — that is [also] not ready. So the chances of it happening are slim to none."
While Ortiz vs. Murtazaliev won't happen in June, Ortiz reiterated that he's open to facing Murtazaliev in the future. When reports leaked of a potential fight between the pair, Ortiz took it upon himself to scour the comments beneath said reports and gauge the initial fan reaction to the matchup.
"I think that [Murtazaliev is] a good fighter as well, that's a fight that everyone wants to see," Ortiz said. "I was reading all the tweets, everyone was excited about that [fight]. I'm not one to shy away from a fight, I think that's a very good fight as well."
Many picked Ortiz to fall short against Madrimov, considering how difficult a fight Terence Crawford had with the Uzbek in 2024. Ortiz, however, impressed with how comfortably he dealt with Madrimov compared to Crawford — and simultaneously made his case for being the super welterweight division's No. 1 ranked fighter.
"[I stuck] to the game plan, [I didn't get] hit with many big shots — I would give myself a solid A," Ortiz said of his performance. "Not an A + or A-, just a solid A.
"I think that is [a] top-three [best performance of mine]. I would say it's right up there with the Mauricio Herrera fight because that fight — I think I had the same kind of calmness and poise in this fight as well. Against a very tough opponent, I stayed calm the whole time, and I was able to execute everything that we wanted to do."
Ortiz scraped past Serhii Bohachuk in his prior bout before Madrimov, surviving two knockdowns to outpoint the Ukrainian via majority decision in their Fight of the Year candidate. Although Bohachuk was easily the toughest challenge of Ortiz's career to date, many of Ortiz's rivals in the top 10 likely watched that contest and came away from it believing they could get the better of Ortiz, as did Bohachuk at times.
Ortiz's fight with former champion Madrimov was significantly different, though. His pressure and volume forced Madrimov to hold his feet and trade with the Texan at times, yet Madrimov consistently came in second pace in those exchanges due to Ortiz's obvious edge in power.
"There were a lot of times when I was watching the video back," he said, "and I was like, 'There were so many times where they didn't see the little jabs of you popping his head back or him throwing punches, and I was just catching them with my gloves.' Not only was he moving a lot, but he didn't throw a whole lot. He definitely didn't throw as much as I did. While the rounds were fairly slow in the beginning, I didn't think he really did [much to me]. I didn't think the fight was as close as some of the scorecards had it."
In the past few days, Turki Alalshikh, TKO Group Holdings — the parent company of WWE and UFC — and Saudi Arabia's Sela announced a multi-year partnership to establish a new boxing promotion and league. The project has been the talk of the boxing world, with UFC CEO Dana White expressing his desire to see the sport revert to the one-belt system used in the UFC, among other drastic changes.
"It can be a good thing, I don't know. I feel like this is like changing the whole sport of boxing, and I don't know if I'm qualified enough to even have an opinion on that," Ortiz said. "I just fight people, you know? We'll see though, we'll see how it goes. I understand the logic behind it, I really do. It's just a huge change, so I just don't know how that'll impact the sport."
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Coco Gauff used words and a mirror to persuade herself she could win the French Open
PARIS -- A little bit of self-persuasion went a very long way for Coco Gauff, whose victory at the French Open gave the 21-year-old American a trophy she has long coveted, and a second major title. Gauff defeated top-ranked Aryna Sabalenka 6-7 (5), 6-2, 6-4 on Saturday to add to her U.S. Open title two years ago. Sabalenka had been the more in-form player heading into the final and Gauff felt she needed some extra motivation. So she drew inspiration from Gabby Thomas, who became the women's Olympic 200-meter champion at last year's Paris Olympics. Thomas had kept writing down that she would be the Olympic champion in her Notes app, so Gauff tried adopting the same approach and grabbed a piece of paper. 'I wrote, 'I will be French Open champion 2025' like a bunch of times," Gauff explained. 'She (Thomas) wrote 'I will be the Olympic champion' and she ended up winning the gold. I think it's a great mindset that she had." Eight lines on a piece of paper written by Gauff late on a Friday night, then it was finally time for bed, time to rest. Not quite. Gauff then persuaded herself a little bit more, by staring at the mirror and convincing herself she was looking at the face of a soon-to-be French Open champion. 'Looking at myself in the mirror so I was trying to instil that belief, and obviously it happened. I didn't know if it was going to work or not. (But) it did," Gauff said, then laughed as she added: 'When you're desperate, you're just trying anything to think that it's going to help you win.' Gauff also posted on Instagram another message she wrote to herself four years ago, which started with the words 'I had a dream last night that I will win (the) French Open.' Job done. What also stood out during the 2 hours and 38 minutes on Court Philippe-Chatrier on Saturday — in a gritty final punctuated by swirling winds due to the open roof — was how Gauff stayed calm while Sabalenka imploded and continually remonstrated with herself. All the screams and shouts were coming from Sabalenka's side of the net, while there was an almost quiet, steely focus on Gauff's side. That's largely because, these days, Gauff gets her frustrations out before matches. 'I know how important it is for me to let out those emotions so that when I come on the match court I can try and be as calm as possible," the No. 2-ranked Gauff said. 'I'm more cool-headed in matches. But in practice I can get pretty upset. Just let me be upset. If I'm upset, I'd rather be upset on the practice court than the match." Gauff will now switch to the grass-court season and may play in Berlin, Germany in a week's time before heading to London for Wimbledon, which starts on May 30. When she gets to London, Gauff will indulge in one of her favorite hobbies: trying to get out of Escape Rooms. 'For sure, I love it, and I'm going to definitely do it,' she said. And how about Sabalenka? How will she be coping with the defeat and the frustrations she so clearly felt? Will she be analyzing footage of the match over and over again, trying to understand where she went wrong and what she must do better? Far from it. She's off to indulge herself in Greece. 'I already have a flight booked to Mykonos and alcohol, sugar. I just need couple of days to completely forget about this crazy world,' Sabalenka said. 'Tequila, gummy bears, and I don't know, swimming, being like the tourist for couple of days.' ___
Hamilton Spectator
2 hours ago
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Coco Gauff used words and a mirror to persuade herself she could win the French Open
PARIS (AP) — A little bit of self-persuasion went a very long way for Coco Gauff, whose victory at the French Open gave the 21-year-old American a trophy she has long coveted, and a second major title. Gauff defeated top-ranked Aryna Sabalenka 6-7 (5), 6-2, 6-4 on Saturday to add to her U.S. Open title two years ago. Sabalenka had been the more in-form player heading into the final and Gauff felt she needed some extra motivation. So she drew inspiration from Gabby Thomas , who became the women's Olympic 200-meter champion at last year's Paris Olympics. Thomas had kept writing down that she would be the Olympic champion in her Notes app, so Gauff tried adopting the same approach and grabbed a piece of paper. 'I wrote, 'I will be French Open champion 2025' like a bunch of times,' Gauff explained. 'She (Thomas) wrote 'I will be the Olympic champion' and she ended up winning the gold. I think it's a great mindset that she had.' Eight lines on a piece of paper written by Gauff late on a Friday night, then it was finally time for bed, time to rest. Not quite. Gauff then persuaded herself a little bit more, by staring at the mirror and convincing herself she was looking at the face of a soon-to-be French Open champion. 'Looking at myself in the mirror so I was trying to instil that belief, and obviously it happened. I didn't know if it was going to work or not. (But) it did,' Gauff said, then laughed as she added: 'When you're desperate, you're just trying anything to think that it's going to help you win.' Gauff also posted on Instagram another message she wrote to herself four years ago , which started with the words 'I had a dream last night that I will win (the) French Open.' Job done. What also stood out during the 2 hours and 38 minutes on Court Philippe-Chatrier on Saturday — in a gritty final punctuated by swirling winds due to the open roof — was how Gauff stayed calm while Sabalenka imploded and continually remonstrated with herself. All the screams and shouts were coming from Sabalenka's side of the net, while there was an almost quiet, steely focus on Gauff's side. That's largely because, these days, Gauff gets her frustrations out before matches. 'I know how important it is for me to let out those emotions so that when I come on the match court I can try and be as calm as possible,' the No. 2-ranked Gauff said. 'I'm more cool-headed in matches. But in practice I can get pretty upset. Just let me be upset. If I'm upset, I'd rather be upset on the practice court than the match.' Gauff will now switch to the grass-court season and may play in Berlin, Germany in a week's time before heading to London for Wimbledon, which starts on May 30. When she gets to London, Gauff will indulge in one of her favorite hobbies: trying to get out of Escape Rooms. 'For sure, I love it, and I'm going to definitely do it,' she said. And how about Sabalenka? How will she be coping with the defeat and the frustrations she so clearly felt? Will she be analyzing footage of the match over and over again, trying to understand where she went wrong and what she must do better? Far from it. She's off to indulge herself in Greece. 'I already have a flight booked to Mykonos and alcohol, sugar. I just need couple of days to completely forget about this crazy world,' Sabalenka said. 'Tequila, gummy bears, and I don't know, swimming, being like the tourist for couple of days.' ___ AP tennis:
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How I Accidentally Inspired a Major Chinese Motion Picture
In December, a friend sent me the trailer for a new Chinese movie called Clash. It's a sports comedy about a ragtag group of Chinese men who start an American-football team in the southwestern city of Chongqing. With the help of a foreign coach, the Chongqing Dockers learn to block and tackle, build camaraderie, and face off in the league championship against the evil Shanghai team. Funny, I thought. In 2014, I wrote an article for The New Republic about a ragtag group of Chinese men who'd started an American football team in the southwestern city of Chongqing. With the help of a foreign coach, the Chongqing Dockers learned to block and tackle, built camaraderie, and—yes—faced off in the league championship against the evil Shanghai team. The Chinese studio behind Clash, iQIYI, is not the first to take an interest in the Dockers' story. My article, titled 'Year of the Pigskin,' was natural Hollywood bait: a tale of cross-cultural teamwork featuring a fish-out-of-water American protagonist, published at a moment when Hollywood and China were in full-on courtship and the future of U.S.-China relations looked bright. It didn't take much imagination to see Ryan Reynolds or Michael B. Jordan playing the coach—a former University of Michigan tight end who'd missed his shot at a pro career because of a shoulder injury—with Chinese stars filling the supporting roles. Sony bought the option to the article, as well as the coach's life rights. When that project fizzled a few years later, Paramount scooped up the rights but never made anything. Now a Chinese studio appeared to have simply lifted the idea. I texted Chris McLaurin, the former Dockers coach who now works at a fancy law firm in London. (Since my original article published, we have become good friends.) Should we say something? Should we sue? At the very least, one of us had to see the movie. Fortunately, it was premiering in February at the International Film Festival Rotterdam. I booked a flight to the Netherlands. The movie I saw, which came out in Chinese theaters last month, did not alleviate my concerns. But the film, along with the conversations I had with its producer and director, provided a glimpse into the cultural and political forces that led to Clash 's creation. Indeed, the trajectory of the IP itself—from the original article to the Hollywood screenplays to the final Chinese production—says a lot about how the relationship between the United States and China has evolved, or devolved, over the past decade. What began as a story about transcending cultural boundaries through sports has turned into a symbol of just how little China and the U.S. understand each other—and how little interest they have in trying. I went to China in 2011 because I had a vague sense that something important was happening there. I moved to Beijing, with funding from a Luce scholarship, and started looking for stories. They weren't hard to find. The years after the 2008 Beijing Olympics turned out to be a remarkable era of relative openness. Many international observers saw Xi Jinping's rise in 2012 as the beginning of a period of liberalization, the inevitable political outcome of the country's growing prosperity. For journalists, China was a playground and a gold mine at once. We could travel (mostly) freely and talk to (almost) anyone. Along with the wealth of narrative material came a sense of purpose: We felt as though we were writing the story of the New China—a country opening up to the rest of the world, trying on identities, experimenting with new ways of thinking and living. The story that captivated me most was that of the Chongqing Dockers. It was one of those article ideas that miraculously fall in your lap, and in retrospect feel like fate. I'd heard that McLaurin, another Luce Scholar, had started coaching a football team in Chongqing, so I flew down to visit him. The first practice I attended was barely controlled chaos: The team didn't have proper equipment, no one wanted to hit one another, and they kept taking cigarette breaks. 'It was like 'Little Giants,' except with adult Chinese men,' I wrote to my editor at The New Republic. He green-lighted the story, and I spent the next year following the team, as well as McLaurin's efforts to create a nationwide league. The movie analogy was fortuitous. Just before the article was published, Sony bought the IP rights, as well as the rights to McLaurin's life story. The project would be developed by Escape Artists, the production company co-founded by Steve Tisch, a co-owner of the New York Giants. Maybe the NFL, struggling to break into the Chinese market, would even get involved. The deal changed McLaurin's life. Sony flew him and his mom out to Los Angeles, where a limo picked them up at the airport. He met with Tisch and the other producers. They floated Chris Pratt for the role of the coach. One executive asked McLaurin if he'd considered acting. McLaurin also met with high-level executives at the NFL interested in helping establish American football in China. He'd been planning to apply to law school, but now he decided to stay in Chongqing and keep developing the league. In retrospect, the China-Hollywood love affair was at that point in its wildest throes. As the reporter Erich Schwartzel recounts in his 2022 book, Red Carpet: Hollywood, China, and the Global Battle for Cultural Supremacy, China spent the late 2000s and 2010s learning the craft of blockbusting by partnering with Hollywood filmmakers and executives. Hollywood studios, meanwhile, got access to the growing market of Chinese moviegoers. (In 2012, then–Vice President Joe Biden negotiated an agreement to raise the quota of U.S. films allowed to screen in China.) It was, in effect, a classic technology transfer, much like General Motors setting up factories in China in exchange for teaching Chinese workers how to build cars. Erich Schwartzel: How China captured Hollywood With a potential audience of 1.4 billion, every U.S. studio was trying to make movies that would appeal to the Chinese market. This led to some ham-fisted creative choices. The filmmakers behind Iron Man 3 added a scene in which a Chinese doctor saves Tony Stark's life, though it wasn't included in the U.S. cut. The Chinese release of Rian Johnson's time-travel thriller, Looper, contained a gratuitous sequence in which Bruce Willis and Xu Qing gallivant around Shanghai. In the same film, Jeff Daniels's character tells Joseph Gordon-Levitt's, 'I'm from the future—you should go to China.' The threat of being denied a Chinese release also resulted in countless acts of self-censorship by Hollywood studios. Sony changed the villains of its Red Dawn remake from Chinese to North Korean in postproduction, and removed a scene showing the destruction of the Great Wall of China from the Adam Sandler film Pixels. In this environment, Hollywood put a premium on stories that could appeal equally to American and Chinese audiences. That usually meant going as broad as possible and leaning away from cultural specifics, as in the Transformers and Marvel movies. But in theory, another, more difficult path existed, the Hollywood equivalent of the Northwest Passage: a movie that incorporated Chinese and American cultures equally. This could be a breakthrough not only in the box office but also in storytelling. It could even map a future for the two countries, offering proof that we have more in common than we might think. The producers at Sony apparently hoped that a 'Year of the Pigskin' adaptation could pull off that trick. 'The movie we want to develop is JERRY MAGUIRE meets THE BAD NEWS BEARS set in China,' Tisch wrote in an email to Sony's then-chairman and CEO, Michael Lynton. 'This is the perfect movie to film in China.' But there was a puzzle built into the project. 'The struggle for me was trying to figure out who the movie was for,' Ian Helfer, who was hired to write the screenplay, told me recently. His task was to create a comedy that would be a vehicle for a big American star while appealing to Chinese audiences. But nobody in Hollywood really knew what Chinese audiences wanted, aside from tentpole action movies. They seemed happy to watch Tom Cruise save the world, but would they pay to see Chris Pratt teach them how to play an obscure foreign sport? Helfer's vision mostly tracked the original article: An American former college-football star goes to China and teaches the locals to play football. Everyone learns some important lessons about teamwork, brotherhood, and cultural differences along the way. He turned in a draft and hoped for the best. Most Hollywood projects die in development, and the autopsy is rarely conclusive. Exactly why the Sony project fizzled is not clear. Helfer said he'd heard that Sony's China office had objected to the project because it didn't feature a Chinese protagonist. Whatever the reason, when the 'Pigskin' option came up for renewal in 2017, Sony passed. By then, the China-Hollywood wave was cresting. The Zhang Yimou–directed co-production The Great Wall, released in 2017 and starring Matt Damon, flopped in the United States. That same year, the agreement that had raised the quota of U.S. films in China expired. Xi Jinping, who was turning out not to be the liberal reformer many Westerners had hoped for, railed against foreign cultural influence and encouraged homegrown art. His plan worked: Although China had depended on the U.S. for both entertainment and training earlier in the decade, it was now producing its own big-budget triumphs. In 2017, the jingoistic action flick Wolf Warrior 2 broke Chinese box-office records and ushered in a new era of nationalist blockbusters. At the same time, however, U.S. box-office revenues had plateaued, making the Chinese market even more important for Hollywood profits. After Sony declined to renew, Paramount optioned the rights to 'Year of the Pigskin,' and the development gears ground back into motion. This time, there was apparent interest from John Cena, who was in the midst of a full-on pivot to China, which included studying Mandarin. (He hadn't yet torpedoed his career there by referring to Taiwan as a 'country' in an interview, after which he apologized profusely in a much-mocked video.) The Paramount version of 'Pigskin' died when the studio discovered belatedly that football wasn't big in China, according to Toby Jaffe, the producer who'd arranged the deal. 'They realized that it wasn't well-suited for the Chinese market,' he told me recently. 'So the reason they bought it for maybe wasn't the most logical analysis.' The option expired once again in 2019. The coronavirus pandemic snuffed out whatever flame still burned in the China-Hollywood romance. McLaurin's China dreams were fading too. His hopes for a broad expansion of American football in China—he had started working for the NFL in Shanghai—seemed out of reach. He left China and went to law school. I figured we'd never hear about a 'Pigskin' adaptation again. When I met the Clash producer and screenwriter Wu Tao outside a hotel in Rotterdam in February, he greeted me with a hug. He told me he couldn't believe we were finally meeting after all these years, given how our lives were both intertwined with the Dockers. 'It's fate,' he said. Wu has spiky hair, a goatee, and an energy that belies his 51 years. He was wearing a bright-green sweater covered with black hearts with the words THANKYOUIDON'TCARE spelled backwards. We sat down at a coffee table in the hotel lobby alongside the director of Clash, Jiang Jiachen. Jiang was wearing computer-teacher glasses and a ribbed gray sweater. Wu, who'd produced and written the script for Clash, right away called out the elephant in the room with a joke. He had stolen one line from my article, he said with a chuckle—a character saying, 'Welcome to Chongqing'—but hadn't paid me for the IP. (This line does not actually appear in the article.) 'Next time,' I said. Wu said he'd been working as a producer at the Chinese media giant Wanda in Beijing when, in 2018, he came across an old article in the Chinese magazine Sanlian Lifeweek about the Dockers. He'd already produced a couple of modest hits, including the superhero satire Jian Bing Man, but he wanted to write his own feature. He was immediately taken with the Dockers' story, and a few days later, he flew to Chongqing to meet the players. They mentioned that Paramount was already working on a movie about the team, but Wu told them that an American filmmaker wouldn't do their story justice. 'In the end, Hollywood cares about the Chinese market,' Wu told me. 'They don't understand China's culture and its people.' He paid a handful of the players about $2,750 each for their life rights, and bought the rights to the team's name for about $16,500. Wu also met up with McLaurin in Shanghai, but they didn't ultimately sign an agreement. 'I understood that, in his head, this was his movie,' Wu said. But Wu had his own vision. Shirley Li: How Hollywood sold out to China Wu got to work writing a script. By 2022, he'd persuaded iQIYI to make the movie and gotten his script past the government censorship bureau with minimal changes. In summer 2023, they began shooting in Chongqing. Wu told me that he'd set out to tell the Dockers' story from a Chinese perspective. 'It's easy to imagine the Hollywood version, like Lawrence of Arabia,' he said. 'A white Westerner saves a group of uncivilized Chinese people.' Even if he'd wanted to tell that kind of story, Wu knew it wouldn't fly in the domestic market. 'We're not even talking about politics; that's just reality,' Wu said. Jiang added, 'It's a postcolonial context.' This argument made sense to me in theory, but I was curious to see what it meant in practice. That evening, I sat in a packed theater and took in the film. Clash opens with a flashback of Yonggan, the hero, running away from a bully as a kid—behavior that gets him mocked as a coward. (His name translates to 'brave.') It then cuts to adult Yonggan, who works as a deliveryman for his family's tofu shop, sprinting and careening his scooter through Chongqing's windy roads, bridges, and back alleys. When Yonggan gets an urgent delivery order from an athletic field where a football team happens to be practicing, the team captain watches in awe as Yonggan sprints down the sideline, takeout bag in hand, faster than the football players. He gets recruited on the spot. Although Clash has the same basic framing as the American film treatments—an underdog team struggling against the odds—the details are original, and telling. Instead of focusing on the coach, the story centers on Yonggan and his teammates, each of whom is dealing with his own middle-class problems: Yonggan's father wants him to give up his football dreams and work at the tofu shop; the war veteran Rock struggles to connect with his daughter; the model office-worker Wang Peixun can't satisfy his wife. The coach, meanwhile, is not an American former college-football star, but rather a Mexican former water boy named Sanchez. He wanted to play in the NFL, he tells the players, but in the U.S., they let Mexicans have only subordinate jobs. The sole American character is, naturally, the captain of the evil Shanghai team. Notably, there's no mention of 'American football' at all; they simply call the sport 'football,' which in Mandarin is the same as the word for 'rugby.' As for the tone, it's hyperlocal in a way that feels authentic to the material. Characters trade quips in rat-a-tat Chongqing dialect. Jokes and references are not overexplained. The film has a catchy hip-hop soundtrack featuring local artists. It also embraces tropes of Chinese comedy that might feel cringey to American audiences: abrupt tonal shifts, fourth-wall breaks, and flashes of the surreal, including an impromptu musical number and a surprisingly moving moment of fantasy at the end. (There are also the predictable gay-panic jokes.) I had been dreading a lazy rip-off, but this felt like its own thing. To my surprise, the audience—which was primarily European, not Chinese—loved it. At both screenings I attended, it got big cheers. When festival attendees voted on their favorite films, Clash ranked 37th out of 188 titles. (The Brutalist came in 50th.) After watching the film, my griping about the IP rights felt petty. Sure, Wu had blatantly lifted the premise of my article. (I looked up the Chinese article that Wu claimed first inspired him and saw that it explicitly mentioned my New Republic article, and the Sony movie deal, in the first paragraph.) But he'd done something original with it. It occurred to me that even if Wu had taken the story and reframed it to please a domestic audience, I was arguably guilty of the same crime. Just like Wu, I had been writing for a market, namely the American magazine reader of 2014. American narratives about China tend to be simplistic and self-serving. During the Cold War, China was foreign and scary. In the 1980s, as it began to reform its economy, American reporters focused on the green shoots of capitalism and the budding pro-democracy movement. In the post-Olympics glow of the 2010s, American readers were interested in stories about how the Chinese aren't all that different from us: See, they play football too! Or go on cruises, or follow motivational speakers, or do stand-up comedy. I was writing at a cultural and political moment when American audiences—and I myself—felt a self-satisfied comfort in the idea that China might follow in our footsteps. What Hollywood didn't realize is that Chinese viewers weren't interested in that kind of story—not then, and certainly not now. Part of me still wishes that a filmmaker had managed to tell the Dockers story in a way that emphasized international cooperation, especially now that our countries feel further apart than ever. But the liberal-fantasy version was probably never going to work. I'm glad someone made a version that does.
