What If Wladimir Klitschko Was Your P.E.* Teacher?

While I understand that this would probably NEVER be the case, and that having a Doctoral degree in Sports Science in no way relegates one to teaching P.E. classes, humor me. After all it could always happen, although probably in some alternate universe where he wasn’t a multi-millionaire and Vitali wasn’t the current mayor of Kiev. 

First (and in my opinion, most important), would his name be Dr. Klitschko or Dr. Steelhammer? Because if I’m a tenth grader who has just received my class schedule you can be damn sure I’m not going to any gym class taught by a Dr. Steelhammer. (Or a Dr. Klitschko, to be fair. Or just any P.E. class in general, I hated sports back then.) Aside from the fact that the name Dr. Steelhammer is intimidating as is, let’s not ignore the pornographic implications that come (pun intended [Also-Editor’s Note-It’s really hard  (SEE?!) to write that sentence without some sort of sexual innuendo being attached to it]) along with a name like Dr. Steelhammer. I would imagine that trying to get through a semester with Dr. Steelhammer would be akin to constantly attempting to ignore a giant silver cock in the room.  His name itself would present the daunting, semester-long task of refraining from dick jokes and awkward giggling. (And I’m sure there would be absolute hell to pay for all of the giggling in the form of push-ups. Oh push-ups.)

 But it’s not like Dr. Klitschko would be any better. Ukrainians are scary, and anyone who disagrees is either Ukrainian or hasn’t seen “The Orphan.” (And sidenote, what is the deal with Klitschko family nicknames? “Dr. Ironfist?” NO. At what point were “Dr. Klitschko” and “Other Dr. Klitschko” ruled out as potential monikers?)  

Second, the guy (and his brother) are on a freaking postage stamp. The 2010 Ukrainian stamp, to be exact. How do you even begin the feat of impressing someone at that level of athletic prowess with your feeble attempts at Kickball? Not happening. I wonder if Kickball is even allowed in the Klitschkonian Era (again, humor me) of P.E., or if it’s nothing but that weird exercise with a sledgehammer and a tire or the Ann Wolfe form of training using pads and a truck. (Shoutout, Texas!)  

And supposing Kickball (or any other team sport) were allowed under Klitschko’s reign, how on Earth would teams be picked? In the normal fashion, by appointing team captains or assigning numbers or perhaps more in the Shirley Jackson form of lottery? (Which I suppose would truly only work if you had an uneven number of students, anyway.)

Last (although this might not seem important), the guy speaks four languages. FOUR. What if he decides to switch things up one day and busts out in a new language that no one understands? And THEN, what if he made everyone who didn’t understand that language do push-ups as punishment?! I guess if you’re looking on the bright side, everyone would be swole. But at what price?

At what price?

Still on the Twitter: @junk_n_trunx 

*P.E.=Physical Education, for those of you who aren’t down with South Texas slang. We can’t be bothered with a lot of syllables here, y’all. It’s hot. 

Chocola-who?!

Nights like last Saturday prove to be the BEST fodder for fans who need a response to the ever-growing (ever-ridiculous) “boxing is dead” mantra that just won’t quit. We all knew that GGG was going to bring it (because really, has there ever been a time when he hasn’t), but I’m not sure that anyone was prepared for the show that was put on by Roman “Chocolatito” Gonzalez. In his debut on American television, the Nicaraguan heavy hitter stopped Edgar Sosa (and I use the term “stopped,” VERY loosely, y’all. More like damn near ended) in the second round of the bout using a relentless flurry of punches. 

Almost as interesting as the KO itself was the manner in which Chocolatito conducted himself afterward. Much like Canelo the week before, Chocolatito displayed great concern and care for his opponent; he stood near him after the KO, had his arm around him, and even rubbed his head in a gesture of friendship (huh huh). It appears as though the up and comers are cut from a different cloth from their predecessors, and we could be moving away from the days of the victor walking away from the, um, not victor, arms stretched toward the sky in jubilation all the while ignoring the grim scene behind him. (But isn’t that one of the things that is so loved about boxing? The great juxtaposition of the victor shamelessly celebrating a win, refusing to allow the grisly scene of defeat staring him in the face to mar the sweetness of the moment? While all the while knowing that the next time the roles could very well be reversed? But I digress.)

In his speech after the win, Chocolatito said that this was the reason he gets up at 4:00 in the morning to go to the gym, that this moment made it all worth it. I think that this kid is destined for greatness, folks. And I also think it’s going to be an amazing ride on the way there.  A fellow blogger (though I’m nowhere near the same league as him or his work, but if you haven’t yet checked out Saturday Night Boxing, you’re missing out) tweeted that he’d like to see Chocolatito on the same four times a year on HBO plan as GGG, and I couldn’t agree with him more. 

Gennady Golovkin vs Willie Monroe

I’d be extremely remiss in not mentioning the fact that we (or I at least) saw a different GGG than I’m used to last week. Yes, he was still a powerhouse. And a beast. And a badass. And every other adjective that could possibly be used in conjunction with his name. But he was also something else on Saturday, if even just for a millisecond-vulnerable. The fight started out the way that most expected it to-with Monroe on the canvas in the second round. (Not gonna lie, I had to work on Sunday and the thought of having two fights end in an explosive fashion in 30 minutes total was pretty appealing.)

But then Monroe got up. And went down again. And got up again (much to the surprise of the masses) and continued to fight. The guy showed a ton of heart, and even though it was clear that he was in over his head, gave it a really good go. He also nailed GGG a few times with some hard shots, and at one point it seemed as though GGG was standing in front of him and allowing himself to be hit as a strategy to wane Monroe’s confidence. True, GGG was pretty much walking through the punches, but it was apparent when he retreated to his corner that he was hurt. It was actually even evident during the ring, although scarce.

Despite his best attempts, GGG dominated Monroe in the 6th round, forcing him to the canvas. Monroe stayed down until the ref counted to 9, and after being chided for waiting too long to get up and asked if he could continue, Monroe uttered, “I’m done.”  

Now.

I’ve seen several people talk nonsense on social media about how Monroe “quit,” and while that’s all fine and good, I would challenge any of those people to continue going another six rounds with GGG after the beatdown that Monroe faced in the first half of that fight. Say what you will, but my ass would have been done halfway through the ring walk. It was an exceptional night for boxing, y’all. Whether you believe it was resurrected, zombified, or is as it’s always been, only this time with one new star shining much brighter. 

Gab: This Week in Boxing Chisme

Amid all of the boxing headlines from this week, I would be remiss in not mentioning that time that Floyd Mayweather broke the Internet with this picture: IMG_0214

Pactards chided him for this, stating that taking to the harsh Nevada wildnerness and doing some good old fashioned tree killing was a sign that he was intimidated by Manny. Flomos defended the champ, positing that this is a variation of a common boxing workout using a sledgehammer and a big ass tire. I’m aligned with most probable theory: that Floyd was doing this (and really every other aspect of his life) for attention. Who knows if this is the first time he’s done this and really, who cares?  I’m actually more upset that no one mentioned the fuzzy red ball on top of his TMT hat.

Also noteworthy this week is the mention that Floyd is refusing to agree to terms of a $5 million dollar fine for positive blood and urine tests in the upcoming months preceding the May 2 fight, a clause set forth by Pacquaio’s camp. This is kind of ironic, really, as it was Manny who initially refused the drug testing when the notion of the fight was first conceived six years ago (allegedly). This is also a contradictory move for Floyd, who has been kind of a pit bull for drug testing regulations. Both champs have reportedly already been tested recently, so I guess speculations could arise as to why he’s not agreed to a fine in the event of a positive result if he’s already complied with the testing. Of course, Bob Arum is doing what he does best in talking out of his ass in regards to demanding more money for a positive drug result, but we’ll see how far that actually gets.

“Ugh, y’all”. That’s what I have to say about this nonsense: IMG_0215

While I’m all for charity and I like the idea of Mitt Romney being knocked out; really, was Vitali Klitschko busy that day? Now THAT would be a fight. (And, you know, politician on politician).

Gennady Golovkin still wants to fight Miguel Cotto, and Miguel Cotto (and possibly Freddie Roach) are still running scared. I think I speak for the majority when I say that this fight will probably never happen, although I would love to be wrong. If it ever did happen, though, GGG would dominate Cotto (even in his new reincarnation as a “raging bull”) and with Cotto’s talk of impending retirement in the near future I doubt that’s how he’d like to go out.

Until next time, friends.

Kovalev vs. Pascal

First and foremost y’all, where were the go-go dancers? Remember the last Pascal fight in Montreal, when there were scantily clad go-go dancers on platforms as if the arena was a cesspool of gluttony, sin, and fuckery? Wasn’t there even fire involved? (I could be making that last part up, but if there wasn’t then there should have been.) None of that this time. Go-go dancers and fire could have only made a positive contribution to the first two cards.

Chilemba v. Lepikhin

These dude’s last names are more interesting than their fight was. Seriously. I feel like the fight could be summed up in the following: Lepikhin should have listened to his daddy and zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. (That’s me falling asleep because the fight was so boring).

Cunningham v. Glazkov

Glazkov will be remembered for two things during this fight: a robbery, and this:IMG_0212

Homeboy is channeling some Justin Bieber realness in this pic, y’all. (Or, as my husband so keenly observed “I think Glazkov used his Tinder profile pic for this.”) I’ll be honest, I tried to pay attention to this one, but it was pretty forgettable as well, although I do think it was more evenly matched than the first bout. Cunningham landed some really heavy shots, but apparently it wasn’t enough to sway the biased judges in his favor. The result was a Glazkov robbery. Ridiculous.

Also, Kennedy Cunningham’s story was heartwarming and inspiring. She is a true fighter and one resilient child. I loved watching the footage of her working the mitts with her dad. Such a neat family. I wish them all the best.

Kovalev v. Pascal

What a damn fight, y’all. This card more than made up for the first two, and I actually had to watch it a few times because I kept feeling like I missed something. Pascal is one tough guy with a lot of heart. I think he got lucky a few times and was able to regain his legs after being knocked clear (almost) out of the ropes, which contributed a lot to his being able to last as long as he did. I was in favor of the controversial stoppage, though. It was evident that Pascal was still stumbling around the ring like a drunk guy during the break, and he wouldn’t have been able to handle more damage from Kovalev (that hook, though! Flawless). In my opinion, the ref did right by protecting his fighter, even though I would have loved to have seen more. It seems like they may already be playing this up for a rematch sometime in the future, which would be a great fight.

This fight seemed oddly kid centered to an extent, what with the piece on Kennedy Cunningham and all the footage of Angel Pascal at ringside. I’m torn on the idea of the young children of boxers being ringside for the event. While I get the appeal of it, I also wonder how screwed up they could become from seeing their parent get so roughed up. (Anyone else remember the way that Cotto’s son reacted during his first fight with Margarito, when his face was basically a bloody mess at the end of the fight?) The announcers (particularly Lampley) seemed very focused on her presence, and the “Angel Pascal has left the building” was comical in a way. (Especially after she came back. The kid probably just had to use the bathroom and Lampley didn’t know any better. How would he know if she truly left the building, anyway?)

Finally, B-hop’s bottom-teeth-only showing smile that he kept flashing awkwardly at the camera while being interviewed by Lampley is something that should be turned into a drinking game for the next fight he announces.