At their core, fighters are lone warriors who see everyone in their weight neighborhood as potential threats to their goals, professional and personal. To do the job they signed up for at all, many fighters have to ruminate to break down the necessary emotional and moral barriers to hurt someone.

As they gain notability, part of their job requires speaking to reporters who are curious about potential bouts they might want to have and how they might fare. Fighters are incentivized in these moments to say something boastful at best and inflammatory at worst. But even when the interviewee answers in earnest and in good faith, it’s easy to see how this creates friction between boxers: Fighter A tells a reporter they would like to face Fighter B and that they think they would win, Fighter B takes offense to someone slighting their skills, and animosity has been born.

Once a fight has been signed, the temperature tends to turn up with each passing day. Fighters are getting hungrier (in a literal and figurative sense), more focused, ruminating even more, and now there is a promotional team that would love nothing more than an explosive sound bite or video clip to sell the fight around.

And after all, what sells better? A blood feud or a pure respectful sporting contest?

Beyond the excitement of their fight itself, the most compelling element of Xander Zayas and Abass Baraou’s junior middleweight unification bout over the weekend was that they dared to break that binary, and the fight not only didn’t suffer from it, it was enhanced by it.

As was heavily documented before their showdown in Puerto Rico, Zayas and Baraou were sparring partners for more than 80 rounds over the last few years. They shared the ring in South Florida, where both train, and developed a friendship. To illustrate the level of trust between them, on days when Baraou’s training staff couldn’t accompany him to sessions, Zayas’ trainer Javiel Centeno would step in and coach him as well.

They formed the kind of bond that can only be forged in the struggle, in the times when the lights aren’t as bright and the paychecks aren’t as large. A bond over a shared dream, and the desire to see one another achieve it, even with the understanding that they could each factor into the spoiling of that dream. After one particular sparring session, Zayas and Baraou said they had the same thought. They spoke and agreed that if and when they each became world champion, they would meet at the top and face one another as champions.

Not long after, the two would indeed win world titles. Zayas defeated Jorge Garcia to pick up the WBO title, and Baraou followed suit when he upset Yoenis Tellez to win the interim WBA title, which was later elevated to a full title following the retirement of Terence Crawford. Zayas was there ringside to root on his pal, and when he was announced the winner, in the ring to celebrate with him. In that moment though, they both realized that they would probably soon be fighting for real, that the shared dream would become a reality.

It's in this moment that fleeting boxing friendships tend to crumble for all the reasons outlined earlier. Thousands of former sparring partners and stablemates have turned bitter enemies, if only for an 8-12 week period, in pursuit of their individual goals. However, Zayas and Baraou never forgot what they shared together. Even when they were prodded about the sparring sessions, reporters and broadcasters hoping for a tiny nugget of hubris for kindling. The best either man could offer was that their familiarity with the other would give them an advantage. Neither protested to have dominated the other, or that they would do so on fight night. Both expressed confidence, but were noticeably careful not to say anything that would upset the other if relayed to them, and both repeatedly used the phrase “good person” to describe their friend.

The reality was that this fight had enough other elements to sell itself without two men blowing up their friendship. Zayas was returning to fight in his homeland of Puerto Rico with a chance to become the first Puerto Rican to unify world title belts on the island. Baraou had his own Cinderella story, a promotional free agent fighting on the road for the sixth straight time looking to become unified champion, and the first world champion with Togolese citizenship. The 11,000 fans in Coliseo De Puerto Rico loudly agreed that was more than enough, so loud that the floor began to shake during Zayas’ ring walk alone.

Zayas and Baraou fought proudly and intensely, but never allowed the emotions of the night to overwhelm them, particularly in the case of the former. As a 23-year old saddled with the hopes of being Puerto Rico’s next male face of the sport, the deafening crowd and physicality of the fight would have been enough to make a less mature fighter unravel. Even when a clash of heads occurred and the audience jeered, suggesting Baraou had done something reckless or untoward, Zayas didn’t take the bait and never allowed animosity to be a fueling force in the fight.

Zayas was mostly able to soak up Baraou’s pressure by slipping, sliding and boxing his way around his hard-charging foe. Notably, he did so by making the ring that Baraou was already looking to shrink even smaller with his strategy of never letting his back touch the ropes. In previous fights, Zayas would occasionally purposely back up against the ropes, tuck behind a frame defense and wait for a counter. Against Baraou, he knew full well that doing that would be a little too friendly, and would give him the opportunity to plant his feet and unleash whirlwind combinations.

With Zayas ahead on the scorecards heading into the final round, the two met at center ring as is tradition, and tapped one another on the head with a smile. In that moment, they seemed to come to a friendly agreement. Baraou had no choice but to go for broke, but Zayas also wanted to whip his home fans into a frenzy to send them home happy. For three minutes, they went toe-to-toe, the decibel level rising with every passing second, until the final bell sounded and they fell into one another’s arms.

Zayas began to celebrate, going from corner pad to corner pad raising his arms atop the ropes. He must have spotted Baraou, mostly sadly gazing at the canvas, as he quickly turned the individual celebration into a communal one. Zayas and Baraou went corner to corner, one arm around one another, one fist to the sky.

When Jimmy Lennon Jr. announced Zayas the winner by split decision, the crowd erupted as expected, as did both men in contrasting emotion. Zayas pouring tears of joy, Baraou’s a less satisfying PH level. In his post-fight interview with Crystina Poncher, Zayas expressed gratitude for his home crowd, called out other 154-pound champions and stars, but ensured that the audience also gave Baraou a round of applause.

Poncher allowed Baraou to speak as well, but he struggled as he began to cry. Zayas, mature and empathetic beyond his years, intervened to console him and compelled him to finish the interview with pride. In his own display of maturity, when asked about the 116-112 scorecard that was submitted for him by one of the three judges, Baraou didn’t hesitate to say he didn’t think he deserved to win.

It might have been the first time in boxing history that a fighter resisted the temptation to either declare that he or she deserved to win, or say something to the effect of “we’ll have to review the tape, but I thought I did enough to win.” Baraou was matter-of-fact, honest and unwilling to detract from his friend’s moment for the purpose of artificially boosting his reputation.

On this night, Zayas and Baraou looked across the ring and saw the man who believed in them the most. And what they believed turned out to be as true as they remained to themselves.