I decided not to go out. My brother was asking me to go watch the fight at Good Times. Good Times is a strange place. They allow children of all ages at all hours of the night. It’s essentially a club. It’s really loud they show the big pay-per-views which you can watch for the cover charge. They serve alcohol. You can play pool or the kids (or you if you're so inclined) can play one of the hundreds of arcade games. If you're anything like me you'll have ten drinks and spend the night playing classic Street Fighter. Yeah, and drop a hundred bucks. I figure I'll stay home watch the fight on PPV order a pizza and save fifty bucks.
Fifty Bucks! WTF! I was expecting thirty-five maybe forty. Okay, I'm committed to this now. This isn't Ultimate Fighting. This is Boxing the secret pleasure of millions of PC folks who claim otherwise. I heard later that 410,000 other suckers did the same. Okay, I guess they're giving the back story for the folks who didn't bother with the first fight.
Then Erica called. We haven't been hanging out so much lately. She's gonna go to a show with the girls and then drop by at
She wins. I jump in the shower and jump out. I get dressed and run to the liquor store. Maybe I'll get back before the first fight starts. But it is Saturday night. There is a line from the front to the back of Libby's Liquors. I eye the place across the street. I hate that place. It’s bigger but it’s loaded with Budweiser and Miller High Life. The hell with it I'm already here. I grab a few cases of the Sam Adams Holiday Variety Pack. We can drink and I expect a few of her friends. Another forty bucks dropped. I step outside and I'm already juggling the four cases. I just know I'm gonna drop one. A cab stops right in front of me. I toss the cases in and tell the guy to take me the three blocks to my house and I'll give him ten bucks. He agrees and regales me with tales of taxi driving. I give him ten bucks and drag the four cases upstairs as fast as my fat ass allows.
I throw the beer in the freezer and flop down on the couch with a Cranberry Lambic. The Ike Quartey vs Carlos Bojorquez fight is in progress. I'm not sure what round it is but blood is streaming down the face of Bojorquez. His white shorts have become pink. The bell rings and they head to their corners. The cameramen move in on the Bojorquez corner. Carlos is telling his corner that he's okay even as they try to repair the giant gashes in his face. "Go for broke!" "Take a chance!" they shout at him. I start thinking he already had. It starts again but it doesn't take long for Joe Cortez to stop the fight. I guess I've missed the best part of this fight and the announcers piece it together for me. Bojorquez came out strong in the first round but that was about it for him. The rest of the fight was Quartey ruining the face of Bojorquez with jabs.
Hopkins and Taylor arrive at the arena. Both fighters have their entourages in full effect.
Ah. Time for the money fight to begin. R.Kelly is singing the National Anthem. I hate R.Kelly. He didn't piss on any children or hide in any closets. He did try to get the crowd to clap to his crooning hip-hop style rendition of the anthem. The crowd boo'd so I guess its all cool.
I get back from getting my forth offering from the Sam Adams Variety Pack and
Erica shows up with the girls, the band and seemingly everyone who attended the show. My cases of beer are gone in seconds. I'm not even drunk. Soon the band has the drum kit and keyboards set up and they start doing Beach Boys covers.