The Stiltskins on the Town

by C. MacKinnon-Morris

I am almost embarrassed to relate the events of this weekend, but I had such a unique experience that I can't help but tell it. And, if it seems choppy it is because my Mavie has decided that this is also the perfect time for a workout (i.e./ play fetch)--while her "Mommy" is sitting in one place for more than a few minutes.

One of Scott's former co-workers has a 2nd job as one of the trainers for a heavyweight boxing champion. When I met him a few months back, he told us that Lamon Brewster would be fighting in Chicago in a couple months. In abstract I said "Cool! That would be a real experience."

I say "in abstract" because I am definitely not a fan of blood sports of any shape or form. I have a real problem with the idea that (at least historically) boxers tend to be from disadvantaged backgrounds and that the more advantaged get to pay to (and bet) to see grown men pummel themselves into a early grave. Yeah, I know about the ability to make choices and I know that many people do this for a hobby (though why, I am not sure). I also know that these boxers sustain a lot of injury to their heads (in which, presumably, rests their brains) and that over time, it can be gravely debilitating. Now, to be fair, there are many opponents of my opinion--and perhaps they are right. But statements such as the following from "What's Right with Boxing" are telling to me:
In spite of its low fatality rate and rare occurrences of injury, boxing is still at the forefront when it comes to targeted aggression from "special interest groups", like the AMA.

Darn doctors! what do they know anyhow?!

Anyhow I digress. Scott and I decided to go to the fight, however bourgeois an event. The tickets were a cool $75 per and the event was to be held in Chicago at United Center (home of the Black Hawks and Bulls). Well, shortly before the time, we also decided that we should be more frugal in our spending and that boxing tix weren't in the Stiltskin budget. Scott went to work armed with the news. Scott came away from work armed with the tix (we were too late)--and to add insult to injury, buddy in charge of tix thought we wanted better seats, so we had tix that now cost $100 per. Yes, I know. Story of the Stiltskin's life. But we soldiered on (plus, we got some groovy posters courtesy of the boxer's organization):


We arrived at the arena at 7 p.m., 3 hours after the events began. The bout we were interested in was later and we didn't feel we needed to sit through all the rest. There were a couple of interesting bouts prior to Brewster's--and this is what I cut my teeth on. They actually hit each other! It's not like wrestling where the guys are only injured if an accident occurs. I was quite dismayed by the whole thing as I watched the action in the ring, as opposed to the screen. It was when I happened to glance at the screen that I noticed the expressions of the boxers--the losers look so sad, so defeated that I immediately decided to cheer for the underdogs (as if they would hear). When I saw my first blood, I cringed. When I realized that the blood's opponent then was aiming for the cut, tears sprang to my eyes--how could civilized people do this. When the crowd booed the fellow with blood running down his face because the ref had stopped the action for a clean-up--I was ashamed to be part of the whole event. I was, quite frankly, shocked at the negative attitude of the crowd in general. We do so much to teach children to be supportive of each other, especially in sports and other activities where kids put their pride on the line--no wonder we have such a difficult time when their parents act like this. My previous experience at sporting events (e.g./ NHL games--previous I said--today it is quite likely different) in Vancouver, if someone gets hurt, the crowd is silent. When the hurt individual goes off the ice, either walking or on a stretcher, the crowd cheers in support. Apparently not here... at least not for boxing.

Oops! time out. Mavie is ready for the punching bag exercise. She is working on her left jab (it's a bit weaker than her right). I hold the mouse by the tail and she jabs away, fwack, fwack, fwack. Great paw-eye coordination going on here! Oh-oh, she has regressed into wrestling and is body slamming the mouse. No Mavie! Back to your workout!

The extent of the boxers injuries astounded me. At the end of the WBC Light Heavyweight (??) Championship match (which went 12 brutal rounds), we had to wait for the judges' decision. I watched on the screen as I stood in line for quaff. When the winner was announced, this fact did not at all register on his broken, swollen, bruised face. His trainers had to come over and shake him and tell him. This fellow did not, apparently, know where he was or what he was doing there, much less realize that he had won something! How sad. I just found the following comment from the ESPN website that makes me feel a bit better about my reaction to this particular fight:
This is perhaps the single bloodiest fight we've ever attended, and both men should be applauded for their heart and courage. It certainly was not for the squeamish as both men bled throughout the fight and crushed each other for 12 rounds with punches so flush that they were sickeningly audible at ringside.

While we waited the hoopla for the main match to begin, the announcer introduced/ pointed out some celebrities in the audience: e.g./ Judge Mathis, Drew Carey (I would have rather seen Mimi--but can't have everything!), the Right Reverand Jesse Jackson, Dick Butkus (Chicago Bear linebacker of old), numerous Bulls and present-day Bears, Leon Spinks, Corey Spinks, and of course Don King. Oh yeah, and some Fox News radio personality?? All the sports people and t.v. folk were loudly cheered (save for Don King--but I think it was about his hair). The politicos were roundly booed. Kind of sad really that the public is more excited about entertainers than people who make a living trying to make the world a better place, but neither here nor there.

Mavis is back, rubbing her tail against my legs (she is careful not to show too much affection). Seems she wants a sparring partner. "I'm busy Mave. Go do some shadow boxing!" Sorry about this, readers.

The hoopla for the two boxers vying for the WBO World Championship finally arrived. The two got into the ring and dong! Round one on. Then 53 seconds later, Dong! Match over. If you blinked you missed it. If people in front of one stood up to watch and one hadn't quite got that far (or felt it was bad manners to stand up in front of the people behind oneself) one missed it. I missed it. Lamon Brewster, reigning Champ was the underdog and the odds against kept increasing as the match grew closer. In this 53 seconds Brewster landed 15 out of 26 punches to Golota's 3 out of 11. In this 53 seconds Brewster knocked Golota to his butt 3 times, once nearly out of the ropes. The ref called the match. Poor HBO and Don King Productions...had to fill the other 59 minutes with replays and interviews! Well, the only thing I felt was a sense of relief: at least there was no blood.

And that is my one and only experience at a boxing match. I am not sure that I would ever go to see one again--it would depend on Scott. I think that he really enjoyed learning about a new 'sport'--I don't honestly think he was aware that there were other sports besides NFL football! I myself, much prefer pro baseball where the most violent occurrence (save for the odd bench clearing brawl--but these are rare) is the manager contesting an ump's decision by kicking dirt or, if really daring, spitting on the ground near-ish the ump! One doesn't have to dress up for a bb game. One can take a book along (or knitting if that is your bag) and leisurely look up from time to time all the while catching some rays and gorging oneself on ballpark dogs and popcorn...and of course, beer. And, one never has to leave the seat--the concession stand comes to one. Very civilized is the 7th inning stretch--that is when one stands up without displaying poor manners. It is a relatively inexpensive spectator sport ($25 v. $100) and people rarely boo--well except for booing the umpire's decisions, but really, don't spectators have a superior view of the strike zone on a batter?? And, one can actually get tix game day! in fact, get tix period--not like NFL football where, for instance, the Green Bay Packer tix have a ten-year waiting list--and where is Green Bay anyhow. Okay, okay, back on track here....my point is that if one is into professional sports (and this particular "one" ain't) there is a myriad of events available where one doesn't have to watch grown men try to injure each other. We look at the gladiator fights of old and shake heads in disbelief--how barbaric. A slave--an underpriviliged man? Is there much difference?

And, now back to Mavis "The Terror" McWavis. I couldn't help thinking during one or two of the less brutal fights, that the boxers' moves mirrored those of our little Mavis. She is fearless and will take on any cat, no matter the size. Just as Dad's favourite wrestler (Gene Kininski) was fond of stating "I fear no man," Mavis fears no cat; of course it helps that she is the alpha among our other 2 females and 3 males. Mave's favourite sports include fetch with her mouse, laser tag, and paw-ball (catch-the-ball-in-the-air and either hold onto it or pass it back to Mommy/ Daddy OR if it is the yellow ball, she will carry it back in her mouth). But her best sport is boxing. She practises a slight variation of "Fanzi Quan" boxing, on her opponents (usually Leper or Koda, who are her age but twice her size). She is always on the offensive because she is too fast for them. She throws in a few fakes and then goes for the jab; she is light on her feet as well as fast. Her flicking, provoking and jabbing is fast then slow; continuous and intermittent. She jabs right, fakes an upper cut and then nips at the hind legs. The other cats don't stand a chance. I do not wait for a KO, after all we are civilized here. I call a TKO when the big cat cries for my help--not because they are hurt physically--I think it is because their pride is hurting badly (or could it be annoyance????). Anyhow, Mavis doesn't have that taste for blood nor the wish to hurt an opponent; otherwise, she coulda been a contender.