Someone tells me when the boking of heavy categories turned into a pub on Saturday in the night pub with judges. Brandon Moore vs. Skilar Lici was not a fight – it was a purely embarrassment, the comedy was so funny, even the judge probably wanted to go out.
Let’s start with Moora (17-1), a man who technically defeated. I say “victory”, but to be real – he got ragdollen, bear, and hugged from the bell as if someone was remembering from the nightclub. The guy looked like he was waiting for a real fight to break out, but no, all he got was a predetermined session of hugging with a man who obviously had no idea what sport competed.
And then we have lace (8-1-2). Oh, Claic. The man is so determined to make this struggle disrespect for it for three separate wood violations – which is, honestly, impressive. Three. You have to try to be so bad in boxing. Maybe he thought Ref just gave friendly warnings. Maybe he thought it was the best of five. Either way, just faced like a lost MMA fighter.
And just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, he was going full of VVE, chooses Moore, and launches it through the ropes in the announcement table. I mean, my friend, if you want to fight out of the ring, just go to the parking lot in the parking lot like normal people.
Ref, bless his patience, begins to count. It takes up to 15 years before Moore is realized, because it will seem at the top of him like a collapsed wardrobe. So, with zero better options, he does what any healthy man would do – disqualifies a room for absolute Muppet.
Moore wins, if you want to call it. Boxing loses. Sports dignity packed its bags and left the building of the other will turn into a human shield.
So, what do we think? Next time, we just just hand them over to chairs and call what is it?
