Please don’t call me on Aug. 26 after midnight with the results of the Floyd Mayweather and Conor McGregor “bout” in Las Vegas. It’s not that I don’t have any use for what’s left of the sport of boxing (as little as that may be), but more so the fact that this particular debacle (kind word for it) is of absolutely no interest to yours truly. Before you ask me why I’m not one of the 2 million expected pay-per-view buyers, consider the following.
First and foremost, I’m old school and can still remember when boxing was a sport and not some circus that pits the wildly popular Ultimate Fighting Championship show pony who’s never boxed against a boxer that is more than over the hill, simply to make the cash register sing. That’s the bottom line on this stinker-to-be, and anyone who feels differently should be required to take a drug test. Not buying the whole “this is entertainment” thing, as I’d rather watch two billy goats fight over a tin can than two deranged men getting paid obscene amounts of money to basically duck each other and avoid throwing a punch or taking one.
Calling them deranged too harsh, you say? Hardly. Let’s start with Mayweather, who can’t throw a damaging punch anymore unless it’s directed at a woman. His homophobic rants and slurs of the sort directed at McGregor in the travesty that was their recent press junket just might be all the damage he can do to an opponent at this point in his career. Father Time remains undefeated, and Mayweather is now 40 years young. McGregor more than pathetically matched the disrespectful rhetoric that flowed from his opponent’s mouth by offering racially overtoned quips and various other insults related to his IRS problems and his inability to articulate himself without utilizing profanity. I know it’s not a Mensa meeting when these two get together for a choreographed press conference, but I guess I was hoping for more than name-calling and disrespectful diatribe. One generally has to stop by the visitation room at a correctional facility to experience such dialogue, but you get my drift. I cringed every time I saw the replay of their exchanges and pity those who really think this mistake of an event is truly worthy of the sporting world. It’s just not.
Forget the fact you have to pay an additional $10 for the high-definition feed, making your total investment right at $100. Mayweather reportedly pays that for his haircuts.
This ill-advised promotion will undoubtedly place boxing at an all-time low and make those proud and capable champions like Muhammad Ali, Larry Holmes and even Mike Tyson shake their collective heads. It’s a stooge fest, and those who purchase it will not only validate my theory, but will also fund Mayweather’s next Ferrari and McGregor’s next high-rise condominium.
Look, I believe in capitalism and giving the people what they want, but how can anyone really think this has any value and, more importantly, call it boxing? Don’t blame the promoters or the Showtime network for making you push the buy button on your remote, as it’s simply not their fault. They’re just feeding America more of the reality television it commands and attempting to satisfy their insatiable appetite for something that has honestly become addictive for many people who can’t help themselves. So, can Mayweather knock out McGregor? Maybe, but only if he hits him as hard as many of the women who made the mistake of getting involved with him.
McGregor could, I guess, land a decisive blow, but more than likely he’ll spend most of the evening with his arms wrapped around his “opponent” trying to get the clock to expire and then crow, “He couldn’t knock me out.” Chances are this madness will go beyond the four rounds that McGregor has promised to end it by, but I doubt those who buy it can get that lucky. I know, you want 15 rounds of toe-to-toe boxing and a ton of haymakers exchanged. Sorry, but that’s just not going to occur. Then again, you don’t have to purchase this fairy tale disguised as true athletic competition, as you can take your wife out to dinner with the money you’re poised to waste, and then check the internet for the results. Do me a favor, and promise not to email or text me the outcome, as yours truly will be sound asleep and dreaming about what the sport of boxing used to be.
Danny Bridges, who knows the difference between great boxing and a shameless hustle, can be reached at (317) 370-8447 or at Bridgeshd@aol.com.
