It was supposed to be an unbelievable Saturday for me from a sports viewing perspective. I had been salivating about the day all week. A Triple Crown in the offing, the potential of the Miami Heat and the three amigos bowing out and choking in yet another playoff meltdown, and the Bradley vs. Pacquiao fight as the dessert on Saturday night.
Please, someone tell me what the hell happened?
Friday afternoon, news broke that I'll Have Another would not step hoof onto the Belmont track and was ruled out due to an apparent "lower leg" injury.
You heard correctly, the horse and his shot at history ended. Immediately, rumors began to churn of the real reason the 4-5 favorite was scratched, then retired, but the shame in it all is that had he even ran, the casual to curious would have come out of the woodwork to watch a chance at history. Canterbury Park expected 12,000 at the track, a number that was no where close once the announcement was made.
This guy will not pretend to be a horse racing handicapper, quite the contrary actually. Excuse the pun, but I didn't have a horse in the race and truth be told, didn't lose any sleep because those who own I'll Have Another, decided he'd had enough.
Saturday afternoon felt like a big body shot to the kidney, but I still had the game and the main event.
Walking into my tri-fecta of sport Saturday, the one question mark in my mind was game seven of the Celtics and Heat. I really didn't care for either team, but my hate of the Heat trumps anything. After my day of horseracing fell completely apart, I was staring down the barrel of going 0-2 in what was supposed to be nothing short of spectacular.
It looked good early, and with the Celts holding an eight point lead in the third quarter, the potential of a Boston upset on the road was possible. That is until the team came unglued and dribbled the game right off their leg.
With my sports day teetering in complete ruin, I still had the fight to watch. It alone, could make up for my entire day spent wasted on the couch. I told a couple of people walking into the Timothy Bradley and Manny Pacquiao that I thought Bradley would pull the upset. I bought into Pac Man's last fight that maybe, just maybe the pound for pound best had lost not just one step, but a couple.
I couldn't have been more wrong on Manny, and my prediction, well was upsetting.
Boxing is stuck. There is no recognizable figure in the heavyweight division that once ruled. The fight all fans want to see in Manny Pacquiao and Floyd Mayweather will probably never happen. Now there is a completely different problem. In a fight that Pacquiao completely dominated, two of the three judges inexcusably gave the fight to Bradley.
It was wrong and completely absurd.
Those same judges could have sat ringside blindfolded and may have had a chance of getting the scoring right. Considering boxing's credibility landed on the ring apron along with Evander Holyfield's right ear long ago this shouldn't come as a shock. Although a rematch was in the contract "should" Pac-Man lose, a fight poster was already made promoting the November 10th fight.
Professional boxing stands alongside of wrasslin' now. Fans shell out 60 bucks a pop to watch a pre-determined outcome. At least Vince McMahon doesn't pretend to be anything other than "sports entertainment".
Bring on the Honkey Tonk Man.