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In Which Manny Pacquiao and the Philippine President Both Pretend to Be Salivating Over Something That’s Actually Kinda Gross


I know, I know, cake designs often feature things we wouldn’t normally eat, like flowers and, um, well mostly flowers. Still, I can’t imagine the sight of a giant vinyl belt is particularly appetizing, even if rendered confectionarily. Is that even a word? It is now.

Hey, speaking of boxing, I’ve said this before, but not recently, so it bears repeating: No Mas boxing scribe Dave “Large” Larzelere is producing some world-class sportswriting that would no doubt be garnering wide acclaim if he weren’t writing about a niche sport on a low-profile blog. And you don’t have to be a boxing fan to appreciate his ace wordsmithery — in fact, his prose is so good that it might convert some non-fans. In his breakdown of the Pacquiao/Hatton and Dawson/Tarver bouts, there’s a great bit where he explains how the Rocky scenario (i.e., effort and commitment can trump talent) is largely a crock. Dig:

I love Rocky as much as the next guy ”¦ but the Rocky mythology, when transferred to the real world, does [boxing] a disservice. This game is no more a contest of guts and heart and balls than is basketball or Olympic table tennis. In other words, guts and heart and balls matter greatly, but only, ONLY, if you have the talent and the skill set to compete at the highest level. Otherwise, it’s just you with all your guts and heart standing there like a retard while all those crazy-ass Chinese motherfuckers rocket Ping Pong balls past your face at like a thousand miles an hour.

Later in the same piece, he makes some brilliant comparisons between boxing and tennis. Not to be missed.

And that’s all for today, because I’ve got a bunch of non-uni fires to put out. No comments, sorry. Back tomorrow with some good stuff, promise. — Paul

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