Spectacles abound in MMA, fight game

I've been trying not to write much about boxing lately because people keep telling me it's a dying sport and not nearly as much fun as watching guys kick and choke each other.

Indeed, it was great sport when mixed martial arts made its first prime-time national television appearance May 31 with a spectacle complete with one grotesque cauliflower ear, a bunch of scantily clad women and a main event that looked suspiciously like it had been plotted by the network folks who also bring you CSI.

A freak show who goes by the name Kimbo Slice won that one. And if you listened to the awestruck announcers you might think he was the next Mike Tyson instead of a guy who reached the limit of whatever talent he has about the same time he was beating up guys for cash in bare-knuckled backyard fights.

CBS was so desperate to get the coveted 18-to-34 drunk-on-Saturday-night demographic that it tried to portray the charade as legitimate sport. Undoubtedly a lot of the drunken 20-somethings probably didn't know any different.

As fascinating as that was to watch, I doubt I'll be tuning in for the next one, and not just because I don't fit the demographic.

I'm a boxing guy. I have been ever since I was a kid and got a chance to go watch Muhammad Ali train. I've been ringside at some of the biggest fights ever, listened to the lies of countless promoters, and have even written a book on the subject.

Boxers fascinate me not only because of what they do but who they are. They all have a story and they all have a dream, but few are ever in control of anything except what they do inside the ring.

A couple of those stories unfolded this week as I was digesting the latest Internet musings on Mr. Slice. One was the usual cautionary tale about excess and waste that has dogged top fighters since Joe Louis was forced to come out of retirement because he hadn't saved a nickel he had ever made.

The other gave me hope there is some sanity left in the sport even as one of its best says he is hanging the gloves up.

First comes word that Evander Holyfield, one of the bravest and most opportunistic fighters of his time, is about to lose his 109-room Georgia mansion -- which includes a bowling alley and 17 bathrooms -- to the bank, and is also being chased for child support payments by the mother of one of his children.

If Holyfield is indeed broke, it would mean the two participants in the richest heavyweight title fight ever have now both blown their fortunes. Mike Tyson's story is well known, but Holyfield -- who led a prayer rally on the night before the fight -- never seemed like the type who would go through his $34 million payday along with the tens of millions he made from other fights.

Barring a sudden turnaround, his 54,000-square-foot domicile will be sold to the highest cash bidder July 1 on the steps of Fayette County courthouse.

It was against this backdrop that Floyd Mayweather Jr. dropped the real shocker of the week. The best fighter of his time was supposed to earn another $30-40 million in September to fight a rematch with Oscar De La Hoya, but issued a statement Friday saying he was no longer having any fun and was retiring from boxing for good.

"There comes a time when money doesn't matter. I just can't do it anymore," said Mayweather, whose nickname oddly enough is "Money." "I have found a peace with my decision that I have not felt in a long time."

Now Mayweather certainly has a lot of money -- he's made some $50 million or so in his last two fights and claims he earned $20 million to play the villain in the last Wrestlemania -- though he has the same love for expensive new cars as Holyfield had for bathrooms. Retirement would mean some cutbacks, and it's hard to imagine Mayweather driving a Honda instead of a Maybach and showering patrons in Las Vegas nightclubs with twenties instead of his usual $100 bills.

Though Mayweather didn't leave himself much wiggle room in his retirement statement, the immediate thought that came to mind was that he was simply posturing to get more out of De La Hoya. Outside of Rocky Marciano, fighters simply don't retire until they're forced to, and boxing has consumed Mayweather since before he even learned to walk.

My guess is he'll be back because they always are. If they don't start running out of money, they start missing the attention.

But here's hoping Mayweather goes down as the exception, a rare fighter who knew when to get out before his brains are scrambled and his reputation is ruined.

Now if only Kimbo Slice would do us a favor and do the same.

Tim Dahlberg is a Las Vegas-based national sports columnist for The Associated Press. Write to him at tdahlberg@ap.org.