I look at most major boxing fights nowadays as a pickup basketball game at the Y.
Search results for:
Timothy Bradley is taking life’s journey seriously, following the idea that our legacy should be etched into the minds of others and the stories they share about us.
When most people think of the boxer Ken Norton, who lived out his final years in Henderson and died there last week, they probably think of his cross-armed, crab-like style of coming forward that gave some of the greatest heavyweights of his generation — of all time, really — major fits. Or they think of him breaking Muhammad Ali’s jaw at decrepit San Diego Sports Arena in the first installment of their indelible trilogy.
It has come to this when Floyd Mayweather Jr. fights: The only things missing are Bill Murray, Andie MacDowell and a groundhog. It’s the same thing, over and over. The same hype, the same buildup, the same outclassed opponents.
Logic is boring. It lacks emotion and creativity and imagination. But it sure makes sense when Floyd Mayweather Jr. talks Saul “Canelo” Alvarez.
Too frequently, when Floyd Mayweather Jr. takes center stage, fans overpay to see something resembling a dance competition and a pillow fight.
If you click on the website, you immediately hear the theme song from “Rocky IV,” one that talks about there being no easy way out, no shortcut home, that some things are worth fighting for, that giving in can’t be wrong.
And on the first matchup of a six-fight contract with CBS/Showtime that could earn Floyd Mayweather Jr. $200 million over the next 30 months, we learned a few things:
In those times over the past few years when media from all dots on a global map heard from Robert Guerrero’s people, I would think of the Inyo National Forest, which covers parts of California and Nevada and stretches some 2 million acres.