Someone tells me when heavyweight boxing has become a Saturday Night Pub scrap with judges. Brandon Moore against Skylar Lacy was not a fight – it was pure embarrassment, a comedy that was so ridiculous, even the referee probably wanted to run out.
Let’s start with Moore (17-1), the man who technically won. I say ‘Won’, but let’s really be-he has ragdolled, bearing bear and put out of the ring like someone being snapped out of a nightclub. The blocks looked like he was waiting for a real battle to break out, but no, all he got was an excessive cuddly session with a man who clearly had no idea in which sport he competed.
And then we have Lacy (8-1-2). Oh, lacy. A man who was so determined to make this battle uninhabitable that he set up three separate offenses – who is honestly impressive. Three. You should try to be so bad at box. Maybe he thought the ref just gave friendly warnings. Maybe he thought it was the best of five. Either way, he just kept struggling like a lost Mma fighter.
And just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, he went full of WWE, picked up Moore and started him through the ropes in the broadcasters’ table. I mean, mate, if you want to fight outside the ring, you’re just going to punch a punch-up in the parking lot like normal people.
The ref, blessing his patience, begins to count. Reached 15 before realizing that Moore is not standing up, because Lacy is still on top of him like a collapsed wardrobe. So, with zero better options, he does what any healthy man would do – it is the fact that he is an absolute muppet.
Moore wins, if you want to call it that. Box lost. The dignity of the sport packed his bags and left the building. The second lacy became in a human battered ram.
So what do we think? Next time, do we just give them folding chairs and call them what it is?
