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Someone tells me when heavyweight boxing became Saturday night pubs with the judges. Brandon Moore vs. Skylar Lacy was not a fight – it was a pure confusion, a ridiculous comedy law that probably wanted to walk out of the referee.
Let’s start with Moore (17-1), the man who technically won. I say “he won,” but be real-rolled, hugged and got out of the ring, as if someone was closed from a night club. The block looked like he was waiting for a real fight for the outbreak, but not, it was just a very enthusiastic sitting with a person who had no idea what sport he was competing in.
And then there is Lacy (8-1-2). Oh, lacy. A man who has decided so much that he was not attracted to this struggle by collecting three separate counters – which frankly, fascinating. Three. You should try to be so bad in boxing. Perhaps he thought Ref had only given friendly warnings. Maybe he thought these were the top five. Either way, he struggled just like a lost MMA warrior.
And just when he thought he couldn’t get worse, he would go full WWE, pick up Moore, and launch it through the ropes to the announcer’s desk. I mean, your partner, if you want to fight outside the ring, just go a punch in the parking lot like normal people.
Ref, bless your patience, start counting. It costs 15 before realizing that Moore doesn’t get up because Lacy is still lying like a collapsed wardrobe. So, zero with better options, does what every reasonable person would do – consolidate lace because it is absolutely mupped.
Moore wins if he wants to call this. Boxing loses. The dignity of the sport wrapped his bags and left the building, becoming the second lace into a human racket.
So, what do we think? Next time we just give them the folding chairs and call what it is?
