You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
Prime Time Boxing.
SATURDAY NIGHT!
EXCLUSIVE!
It is being hailed as boxing returns to broadcast TV.
Am I suppose to cheer like a third grader at a birthday party?
NBC thinks so. The network is ringing the promotional bell like a Salvation Army Santa with palsy.
Boxing is back in prime time, on free TV.
That’s as exciting as Spring Break in Afghanistan.Must Watch TV NBC squawks.
Fight Fight Fight!
It’s the pugilistic version of Paul Revere racing through the streets screaming the British are coming. The British are coming.
But instead of the Red Coats, a taxation without representation quantity that is well known to the colonists; NBC is pushing fighters with as much name recognition as yard waste.
The idea is simple. What’s old is new again.
It worked for vinyl records and high tops, right?
Remember the 80’s?
Duran Duran, Saved By the Bell, Mike Tyson?
And of course, Free Boxing on Prime Time TV.
Wasn’t life wonderful? No internet. No Match Dot Com. No iphones.
Remember when you didn’t have to pay to watch a brutal ass whoopin?
We use to block off Saturday nights to gather around the tube and watch Sugar Ray Leonard and Roberto Duran and Thomas Hit Man Hearns knock the hell out of each other.
It was ferocious theater. It was bloody and real and it was free.
Then pay per view reared its ugly head.
At 1st it was worth it. Mike Tyson versus anyone. Marvin Hagler versus Sugar Ray Leonard.
Get 10 guys together, each fork over 5 bucks and have a night of boxing.
But the fighters you cared about got older and more brain dead and suddenly paying 50 dollars to watch a carp fight a refrigerator box wasn’t so enticing.
“Hey let’s go watch the planes take off and land,” I remember one guy saying once as a possible entertainment substitute.
Suddenly boxing was dead. High priced fights featuring no name losers had as much entertainment value as a FRIENDS re-run where Rachel’s nipples weren’t shining in their own pronounced and dramatic way.
Suddenly fight fans began to turn to other venues for their sporting dollars.
Fly Fishing. Roller Derby. Full Contact Opera.
Then some NBC exec gets an idea.
“Hey do you think anyone would tune in on a Saturday night to watch two anonymous boxers fight?”
And an idea was born.
So I am tuning in to the 1st of two bouts. I’m part curious and part loser for being home on a Saturday night.
I am sitting with my 16 year old son who has never seen a boxing match in his “I know everything” life.
NBC does a good job trying to make me think this momet matters.
They tout the boxers with highly produced back stories. I meet their mommas and hear their dreams. NBC makes me sort of care about the pugilists about to step into the ring.
NBC has Al Michaels and Sugar Ray Leonard and Marv Albert and Laila Ali broadcasting this Saturday night extravaganza.
The announcers are bigger heavyweights than any one fighting.
The opening bout features Adrien Broner (29-1, 22 KOs) vs. John Molina Jr. (27-5, 22 KOs),
Both fighters in the pre-fight nonsense pledge world war three.
Instead it’s a slow motion dance of grabbing, touching, complaining and bitching at each other.
At one point the referee steps in and counsels the two combatants like they are guests on the Dr. Phil Show.
I’m not a boxer, but I’ve watched hundreds of boxing matches in my life.
I am intrigued by the sweet science and hope that the fight will be entertaining.
I am very interested to see what my 16 year old thinks about a sport he has never seen.
Remember, 16 year olds were born in the late 90’s. They are equipped with a smart phone, a video game controller and the attention span of a snap chat of their own nostrils.
How would this fight be received in the eyes of a new generation?
“Nobody has been punched yet?” he says 1 minute into the bout, already bored and looking to be snarky.
John Molina Jr. predicts it will be a war from the opening bell.
“he lied,” my bored 16 year old blurts out at the screen.
Molina tells Laila Ali that he and Adrien Bruner have a lot to live up to, to represent the generation of Muhammad Ali and the like.
He’s right. They do. And so far they are falling short; way short.
Round 1
It’s a tap dance. When did they put dancing with the Stars on the fight card?
Round 2
More toe tapping to the chorus of boos that is raining down from the darkness in the MGM grand.
The front rows are full of seemingly disinterested people. The upper rows are a mystery. The stadium is dark.
It is hard to know how many fans were let in for free, given a food voucher or brought to the venue from the local bus station.
“Just fill a seat,” they are told.
Round 3
More holding. More rabbit punching. More circular dance steps set to an occasional jab.
“Why would anyone watch this?” my son blurts out. “They aren’t doing anything.”
He is right. The crowd is booing and the announcers can’t hide their displeasure with either fighter’s reluctance to engage.
This is a MMA world where action is brutal, constant and final.
The crowd wants blood and severity.
A round house kick to the face is today’s appetizer.
By comparison, NBC Saturday night boxing is granola pellets served in a soup kitchen.
“Broner is wearing a bedazzled loin cloth,” my son says picking up his iPhone and snap chatting with another bored teen on a Saturday night.
In between rounds the network promotes a hockey game and a New Easter film featuring Jesus; something about a resurrection from the dead.
Hmmm?
The story seems very similar to Saturday Night Boxing, doesn’t it?
Corona is the night’s big sponsor. They own most of the commercials and its logo is splashed across the ring. Poor bastards. Why would you want to be associated with this dumpster dive?
Round 4
There is a little exchange between the fighters. Compared to MMA, it’s turn down service at the Marriott.
“Would you like a mint with that sir?”
The crowd is growling. I think I hear a chant for MMA go up.
Round 5
“This is ridiculous,” my son says slumped on the couch.
He is laughing. He is unimpressed. The stick clacking sound to let you know there is only ten seconds left in the round peaks his curiousity.
“There’s the clack again,” he says. “Thank God another round is about to end.
Boxing is back in prime time NBC keeps telling me.
Yes. But also no.
If this is the best they got, they need to put on the Sound of Music and go for the female demo’s over 60.
Saturday night Boxing. Only on NBC!
“Look at the audience,” he says. “Nobody is even watching the match. They are getting up and talking to one another.”
“He’s a better fighter than this,” Sugar Ray Leonard says trying to sugar coat the pedestrian qualities of this debacle.
“there are so many empty chairs,” my son says, now looking for anything to entertain him.
Round 10
It’s a slow motion polka dance with tassels.
The crowd is tired of booing. We watch them through the ropes as they text friends on their cell phones. I watch one woman in the front row yawn.
“Someone please kick someone” my son shouts.
“they should pump in fake cheers,” my son snarks. “That way people at home would think that this is good.”
“look at that blond lady sitting ringside,” he notices looking past the inactivity in the ring. “She looks bored. What do you think she is talking to that old guy about?”
I wonder myself. She is not watching the action in the ring.
“Honey, do you think I left the stove on?”
“Honey, what should we get the kids for their anniversary?”
Whatever it is, it’s not “Man that Broner is bringing the heat.”
Round 11
Yikes. 2 more rounds of this?
“The last two rounds will be broadcast without commercial interruption,” Marv Albert Says.
Is that to engage the audience or because they couldn’t sell the final 2 minutes I wonder.
Round 11
It’s exciting like dryer lint cooling on the floor.
Round 12
I’ve seen more life from meat thawing on the counter.
Molina’ corner admits their fighter needs a knock out to win.
Somehow this doesn’t get through to the fighter in the ring, who continues to hold and clench and wait for the final bell to collect his undeserved check.
Finally it ends.
A one sided tap dance of low blows, complaining, and rabbit punches.
Someone has to win and the winner tonight is Adrien Broner.
What a shame.
I’d have rather watched Corona sponsor The Sound of Music.
Julie Andrews still has more knock out power than either of these two tomato cans.
Sugar Ray Leonard says “Molina will be upset with himself. He is a warrior and has not been effective tonight.”
That’s soft, Ray. In your prime you wouldn’t have given this bout a pass. You would have given it an upper cut to the jaw and stood over it laughing.
You should have said this bout was terrible.
You should have said NBC should have paid us to watch this.
Before the winner is announced, I ask my son “what do you think the decision will be?”
“To take boxing off regular tv and never do this again,” he says with a straight face.
Somewhere Muhammad Ali is thinking the exact same thing.
Even if Sugar Ray Leonard won’t say it.
Life’s Crazy™