Hello R Spot-ophiles! Well, my weekend in Las Vegas was cozy, fun and surprisingly lucrative, seeing how for the first time that I can remember I came back with a little more money than I left with without ever having to go to an ATM or holding up a 7-Eleven. And oh the celebrities!! If only this were one of those blogs like perezhilton.com that dished the dirt and gave you lots of photos of your blogger hanging out and behaving badly with celebrities.
Thankfully, it's not.
But if you want pictures of some of the people spotted hanging out around Caesars' Palace and the Wynn this weekend, you can certainly find them all over the blogosphere, not to mention soon to be in an US Weekly near you. If you must know who I saw in person at the Wynn or who was spotted in my near vicinity: Cuba Gooding Jr., Taye Diggs, Tori Spelling, Paris Hilton, Usher, rapper T.I. (why wasn't he at Treasure Island? Sorry - bad joke), Jay-Z, Lennox Lewis, Pamela Anderson, Magic Johnson, Nick Lachey, a rap crew known as "Big Boss Hogg", Beyonce Knowles, Toby Keith and of course, it being fight weekend and all, Don King. And lots and lots of hoochie mamas. Good thing I'm no longer single, as my fiance frequently reminded me.
I didn't go to Las Vegas for the fight, although part of our special prize package included tickets to the welterweight championship featuring Floyd Mayweather and Zab Judah (I'd make fun of Zab's name except that his hands are registered as deadly weapons. I'm no fool.) In a bit, I'll share my impressions of my first championship boxing match--which as it turned out had a bonus fight not on the lineup--but for now I will briefly sing my praises for the Wynn, which provided free lodging, free food, free tickets and top flight customer service in a five-star atmosphere. No, that's not a commercial, it's actually the truth. I gotta tell you, I may never be able to sleep in a normal bed again. And every hotel room should have high definition television. Leaving Las Vegas yesterday was a powerful reminder of just how much it sucks to be poor in America and how ridiculous it is to be rich.
Fight Night
So what about the fight? I can tell you that the atmosphere of a big time fight is what is most interesting to me, far more compelling than the grabbing, clutching, holding and occasional punching that is the hallmark of most big fights. (I must say though that the flyweight and lightweight fighters deliver a lot more punches for the buck--if you like "fists of fury", I'm guessing that watching the smaller divisions is the way to go.)
I entered the Thomas & Mack Arena near the end of the next to last undercard. It's exactly like you see on TV or in the movies--the VIP's and celebrities mingle, kiss and hug down front right up until the first bell of the championship fight. There was Don King, waving his little American flag (he's a Republican, remember?) and taking pictures with everybody, from random fans who were running up to him to the rapper T.I. and a photo op with Jay-Z. My seat was about 20 rows up from all this--not great, but not bad considering I didn't pay for my ticket and at least I was still in the lower deck. A black woman down the row from me spotted super welterweight "Sugar" Shane Mosley in the crowd and kept yelling for him extremely loudly. He must have turned and waved or something because eventually she finally stopped. And, I hate to say it, there actually were more than a few heavy-set guys who looked like they could be extras from The Sopranos, smoking cigars, gesticulating wildly and saying words like "vigorish" and "down in the ninth." I made sure I stayed away from them as best I could.
Time for the championship bout. First the challenger and his retinue enter the ring to their chosen rap song. Now, let me take a moment for a digression here--wouldn't it be awesome if everyone, no matter what job they had could start their work day the way boxers start theirs? Bouncing into the office with about eight or nine of your best friends and co-workers, wearing a comfortable satin robe and accompanied by your favorite music, your very own Michael Buffer could introduce you thusly: "Originally from Chappaqua, New York, measuring six foot one and weighing 188 pounds, he hasn't missed a day of work in three years, he takes his coffee with cream and two sugars and he is the office finger football champion, from bookkeeping, it's Paul "Prime Number" Mantellllllllllll!!" And so on and so forth. I guarantee you'd feel a lot better about going into the office in the morning.
Where was I? Oh yes, the challenger, Zab Judah, enters the arena in his black and red satin robe, bouncing along to some mellowish rap song along with his posse of about eight or nine trainers, doctors, managers and hangers-on. He gets into the ring, bounces on the balls of his feet, throws some quick jabs at the air and tries to look genuinely menacing while Michael Buffer, the Voice of Boxing, finishes his introduction. Then, of course, it's the champ's turn. I look at my program--I don't know a whole lot about Floyd Mayweather, but it would seem that he is from Michigan, lives and trains in Vegas, has been around for ten years and has somehow managed to win four different championship belts without me being all that aware of it. This fight is to retain the welterweight title he won in 2004. Apparently, Mayweather has only lost like three fights in his career and none since he moved up in class. He and his group do the same bit as Judah and his crew, although I notice that Mayweather's chosen rap song is even mellower than Judah's and that his expression is so calm he seems to be just this side of boredom. There is a buzz in the crowd with both welterweight fighters in the ring. Even Don King finally sits down and shuts up. The man next to me asks, "How long is this fight scheduled for?" I answer, "Twelve rounds" in my best this-is-old-hat to me voice.
The fight begins and in the early rounds it appears that Mayweather's "bored" expression may have betrayed too much about his mental state. Judah is more aggressive, lands more punches and seems to be cutting off Mayweather's escape routes in the ring. It's clear that the crowd is more with Mayweather--he does live in Vegas after all--but it also seems that if Judah can keep this up and even possibly pull off the upset victory, a lot of people will switch to his side. The New Yorkers in the crowd (Judah is from Brooklyn) loudly cheer every punch Judah lands and even a few of the ones he doesn't. Through the first four rounds if I were a judge, I would give it to the challenger.
Then Mayweather seems to awake from his slumber and realize that he'd better try to box. Either that, or Judah has punched himself out a little, I'm too much of a novice to tell. Either way, the match settles into a somnolent rythym, with both boxers doing more clutching, holding and dancing than punching for the next few rounds. I'm almost on the verge of boredom, when the tenth round arrives. It starts like the last three or four rounds have, but then, out of nowhere, Judah decides to literally punch Mayweather in the balls. Even from where I'm sitting I can see it as clear as day without looking at the monitors. Then, for good measure while Mayweather the Tough As Nails champion is doubled over on the ropes almost keeled over in pain, Judah punches him in the back of the head.
I went to a boxing match and the Jerry Springer Show broke out. Somebody from Mayweather's corner (when did boxers start to have so many people in their corner?), jumped into the ring and tried to punch Judah. Then Judah's crew rushed out to protect him. While the Mayweather man was being detained, Judah ran around the back of the assembled mob and try to punch his assailant. The cops rushed into the ring and started tackling and grabbing everybody they could find, the crowd got increasingly hostile and begin to boo loudly and for about two minutes, with the entire arena on it's feet and a boxing ring full of people pushing and shoving one another it was not looking good for peace in the Free World. And I'm not sure that if I had to fight my way through 15,000 people that I would do all that well.
Order however, was quickly restored. I'm sure points were deducted from Judah, although the ring announcer never said anything about it. They picked up the fight right where it was left off, although without the bits with Judah hitting Mayweather in the nuts and whatnot. The ring card girls--you know, the scatily clad beauties that hold up the sign telling you what round it is--were obviously kept out of the ring for the last two rounds as some sort of precaution (maybe they make good hostages?) Mayweather, now suitably awake, finished with his two strongest rounds and even appeared to be taunting Judah at the end of round 12. The judges wasted little time in giving the champ a unanimous decision to the delight of the crowd, which completely turned against Judah after his nasty little low blow.
I headed into the balmy Vegas night and looked for the shuttle bus that would take me back to the Wynn and my sweetie, who elected to play the slots while I went to the fight. I can't say I'll be attending any more big time boxing matches anytime soon, but I'm happy to share my experience with you and happy that I went. If nothing else after all, it's one more thing I can cross off the ledger of life, right below white water rafting on the Arkansas River and right above learning to sky dive. Apparently, these all have about the same level of safety. Or maybe they are all grouped together by my limited likelihood of participation.
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Next up...the coming Iran War, where I explain that I warned you this was coming and how the neocons have had this whole thing planned for thirty years. I'll also tell you what I'm watching on TV these days and vent about this and that and the other thing, like I usually do.
Peace...
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