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Not. Even. Four. Rounds

September 9, 2012 - Wes Burns
The day had started off well in the wild world of sports I'm interested in watching (most, no soccer). Iowa State University had achieved a triumphant, if accidental, win over the much maligned and always deserving Hawkeyes.

Did you see the game? Were you in someone's garage, cold beverage in hand, sitting on a folding chair with a plastic plate full of dip and selected dipables? Was the air cool and the conversation lively? How about the TV? Big screen, I assume? Wasn't it the best way to spend a Saturday afternoon in September?

I, however, did not watch the game in such carport luxury. In fact, “watch” is a bit on an overstatement.

I was at work, by myself, in a building which I am beginning to believe is haunted by some unruly apparition. Or someone was working downstairs; I didn't check.

Since I was unable to watch the game on the in-office TV and I was unwilling to risk a system-wide virus by streaming the game from a less than reputable European website I was relegated to … reading, I guess … the game in the form of play by play sentences posted live.

Enthralling, no?

Alright, while it wasn't perfect, I was at least able to keep up on the game, and it's been a long time since I've yelled so loudly from simply reading the word “fumble.”

Seriously, Jantz?

So the low scoring affair wasn't that interesting, but at least my Alma matter won, thereby ensuring my office bragging rights for the following week. PLUS I had something waiting for me on my DVR.

Vitali Klitschko, the 41-year-old WBC world heavyweight champion was set to fight the undefeated Manuel Charr of Germany, thereby defending his title at an age unheard of since George Foreman did it … before the whole grill thing took all his time.

The great, but aging Klitschko was facing an inexperienced but undefeated Charr, with the fight happening at 1 a.m. Moscow time? I believe the appropriate response is “booyah!”

So after work and after a couple post-work beverages with friends I made my way home, grabbed the finest frozen pizza that our local grocer had to offer, hit “play” on my DVR and settled in to watch one of the greatest boxers in the last decade destroy this new guy.

Well, Klitschko must have had other business in Moscow at 1:30 (I'm not asking), because he decided to pretty much split Charr's eye open in round four, and the frankly overly cautious ring doctor called the fight.

Not even four rounds; my pizza didn't even have time to cool off.

Some might say that Charr wasn't ready to handle somebody like Klitschko. Some might say that the fight was rigged to improve Klitschko's chances when he runs for Ukrainian Parliament next month. Some might say that Klitschko is secretly a Terminator and Charr never had a chance. Whatever the case my three and a half hour block of DVR'ed boxing was over in less than 30 minutes.


I'm going to bed.



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