i’m not gonna lie…
…i tried to randomly pick a flashback friday bit and stumbled upon an eleven year old sunday sixer, and after the weekend i had had LAST weekend and the booze i had tonight…well…here we go! two throwbacks i a week so i can be “lazy” and spend hours prepping the house for the ufc’s kid! enjoy:
02/23/2003: “dude, that’s not a speed bag”
tonight, on pay-per-view…tyson vs. entienne. or something like that. but first, the under card. and some rules on boxing….your sunday six pack:
1. never, EVER bet on the white boy…unless it’s all white boys in the ring. and if the ref isn’t white, it’s still not a safe bet…
2. ALWAYS bet on the guy who’s spent the most time in prison.
3. if it’s lightweight, featherweight, flyweight, or any other girly-sized class, bet on the mexican guy. and if it’s two latinos going toe-to-toe, take the one with the most names.
4. always bet against the guy who’s done a fake back tattoo of some website or bible verse just on general principle.
5. if it’s one of don king’s fights, the smart money is on the guy where you see don dancing in the ring to his intro music.
6. just don’t bet against tyson. it’s a numbers thing.
i don’t even remember the under card guy’s names…all i know is, the first one was some corn-fed iowa honky vs. former olympic contender (lacy, i believe was his last name). they bragged that the white boy “won all his fights in iowa”. is that really a tough thing to do? isn’t being a boxing bad-ass from des moines kinda the ring equivalent of your band being really big in belgium? so, the smart money was (duh) NOT on the white boy.
but then, out of nowhere, in the second round the cracker got nailed in the nuts. in a professional fight. who’d of thunk it? okay, so maybe it wasn’t square in the dick or anything…but it was close enough. “below the belt”, as the call it. south of the border. and he dropped like a sack of potatoes. not a surprise. the rule is, after that, they have to give you five minutes to “recover”. the only uncool thing about this, i realized, is that that means the OTHER guy gets to rest up for five minutes, too…and he didn’t just take a left look to the right nut. so, now he’s all tanned, rested, and ready, and you’re starting to make out shapes again. game on. BULLSHIT. i think the guy who tried to swipe the family jewels should have to stand in the middle of the ring, hands by his sides, and take one to the face. THEN you ring the bell and kick back in. THAT would be fair. well, almost. but mere seconds later, the guy still attempting to recover after his five minute “try and find ’em again” break took on to the head and dropped. the end. then the ring announcers bragged about the winner’s “skill and talent”. to what? uppercut his undercarriage? and then win? that’s a “skill” these days? third-grade girl boxing? what’s really pathetic is the fight would have probably had the same winner even if it HAD been clean.
then it was time for bout two…
again, i don’t remember names…but one guy was fresh out of the joint, and his attitude (and ink collection) showed it. easily the favored one. but in the second round, WHAM another bit of southpaw chili made in the crotch pot (i.e. locker boy hit the other guy in the balls). down he goes. he comes back after less than the five minutes, but at the next round break decides he’s hyper-extended his elbow (i guess he grabbed his nuts too quick) and can’t go on. tko in favor of the cell-block sack smasher. again, he probably would have won anyway…so why try to nab the family jewels by force?
since all this wrapped up so quickly, they had time to air an old tyson fight before the new tyson fight…and it was from copenhagen, denmark with tyson taking on a white boy with bigger tits than almost any woman i’ve ever dated (and that’s saying something). this one took five rounds, but guess what happened in round three? yep…tyson nailed him south of the border, down mexico way. what the fuck? is there ANYBODY who would bet on a fat white fuck over tyson? that’s like a fight between a pissed-off pit bull and a five gallon tub of custard. there IS no contest. again, in the end, the guy decided he could fight no more, and tyson won. so apparently, if you hit a boxer in the nuts he keeps going, but another part of him breaks. kinda like dating. wait…did i say that last part out loud? let’s move on to our main event.
tyson vs. etienne, aka “the black rhino”. he had his own rapper (who i KNOW i recognize, both by face and voice, but couldn’t remember his name to save my ass). much fanfare. much ado. this would be an actual CONTEST they said. the bell rang, and it was on. bob. weave. punch. block. etc. etc. the battle royale…until tyson knocked the guy in the jaw so hard his knees gave and his ass met the canvas. of course, this only took fourty-nine (yes, “49”) seconds into the FIRST ROUND. basically, in the time it took you to read this paragraph, it was over. then came the post-fight interviews, where a babbling, incoherent tyson said the quote that summed up the tyson experience of the last several years…
“i’ve really got to just go get my shit together. i’m really messed up”
amen, brother. or should i say, ashalamalakum?
(i know i spelled that last word wrong, or at least i guess i did, but spell check tried to change it to “hypothalamus”? thanks, obama!)