By the time you read this a week will have passed and this will all be old news, but sometimes in life great things take time. Being poor students who don’t have any particular interest in boxing, we streamed “The Fight of the Century”—whoops, I mean “The Fight of our Generation”—through what was quite possibly the most horrible website I’ve ever visited. This is because we didn’t feel like squinting at a screen between the heads of bogans at Hotel Bristol and as for pay-per-view, it would have been cheaper to fly to the Philippines, where the fight was being aired for free. As we watched what we thought was probably the fight (hard to tell when the video has a grand total of nine pixels) a handful of things were brought to my mind, so put on your gloves and let’s have a moan.
Let us start with the ridiculous hype that has engulfed everything from Facebook to my Sunday afternoon. Is calling it “The Fight of our Generation” supposed to interest me, or make me feel bad for not knowing who the one who isn’t Floyd Mayweather is? The way the media has been talking about the fight made me think that Jesus was pairing up against Zeus himself (Jesus would have won btw). It was amazing how suddenly everyone is into boxing. Now is that just because (like us) you wanted to see that stupendous idiot Mayweather get knocked out, or is it because all the celebrities like it now?
Scenes from Django Unchained were playing in my mind. Apparently America has “moved on enough” to vote in a black president, but we are all fine with the richest people on earth flying their Gulfstreams to LA to watch two black people beat each other up for money. You can probably tell we don’t like America very much. When it was all over, and it seemed to go by rather quick for how much it all cost, HBO’s “expert” decided to pick on the foreigner. The post-match questions he asked Pacquiao were condescending, unintelligible and ridiculous. The best one being “Did you feel his power?” First of all, that’s not a question about Pacquiao’s interpretation of the match, it’s a way to further glorify Mayweather—something I didn’t know was possible. But did he really ask someone who had just been punched in the face for 12 rounds “Did you feel his power?” Had Pacquiao been born in an English speaking country, he would never have been asked such an array of biased questions—but it’s America and the humble opponent has just been beaten, so let’s all make fun of him a little longer.
I thought this kind of bastardised, endorsed, money fuelled performance of what used to be a truly masculine, respect-driven sport was limited to “the greatest nation on earth”. However, after tonight’s predictably awful performance by the Phoenix and their mob of supporting hooligans, I was wrong. The Yellow Fever disgraced the illusion that New Zealand is a sporting nation. Any whisper of sportsmanship was overwhelmed by the arrogance and obnoxiousness of the home crowd toward the ref and the opposition. Yes, New Zealand was already the laughing stock of world football; but hey, we’re still “the only unbeaten team in the 2010 World Cup”.
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Now go and hook a Phoenix supporter,
Luke and Tom
P.S. Sorry there is no tip of the week… Something… Something… Vic House.