Never have, and most likely never will … and am quite OK with that.
The UFC, MMA or whatever other non-traditional styles of fighting that has swept a society apparently dying for “controlled” violence displayed in a different way just does nothing for me. All the bluster and steel cages in the world can’t conceal whiffs for connected punches or fear for physical punishment.
Sorry, but last night’s Ronda Rousey, uh, um, fight made me long for the days of watching Mike Tyson stalk whoever was next on his bum of the month club, stare them down, begin to cock his right hand … and then see them collapse to the canvas before glove ever touched skin – all within two minutes. Twenty-five, 30 years ago, boxing at the heavyweight level, was mocked for such pathetic diluted samples of manhood, or toughness, or even earning one’s paycheck.
Now, 34 seconds of near hits, stumbling backwards and, in an ill-fated tribute to the past, collapsing to the canvas is viewed as “awesome,” “vicious,” and just totally “kick ass, dude.”
To be fair, and clear, this take has nothing to do specifically with Rousey, or with women climbing into the ring. I find the male version of this stuff to be equally as boring, and silly. Months of talk by the combatants and their followers that leads up to … well, not much from all I see.
Frankly, every “battle” I’ve stumbled across usually lasts shorter than the commercial I just tapped the remote to avoid … and makes those Tyson matches seem like real-life examples of Bugs Bunny cartoon bouts that would run to about Round 195 with dynamite explosions involved.
For those who enjoy and feel the “bad-ass” about Rousey and Co., more power to you. You see something that just won’t come into focus for me … and I’m OK with that.
- Jack Kerwin | firstname.lastname@example.org