By Bart Barry-
Three broadcasts Saturday, and nothing that happened was quite great and some was very good but everything was at least good, and a block of five hours of good boxing, live sports programming not storytelling, represents an embarrassment of riches suddenly arrived for every aficionado nimble enough to cord-cut and app-embrace. In such case, we are, as the great man said, the aficionados we’ve been waiting for.
Things happened on two apps in three cities, and if a title or two unexpectedly changed owners it wasn’t the important part because the abundance of available boxing was, and there was at once so much of it and it was so good, one now suspects sabotage more than incompetence put our beloved sport in the dismal two-provider forest we just escaped, completely and enthusiastically.
How about a detour?
Not long after reading my 700th book – that looks like a lot but for a writer, truly, it isn’t – I realized, tardily one might say, the act of reading was doubtful to make me a better writer anymore, and based on my retention from the first 700 books, it, too, was doubtful to increase in any endurable way my knowledge of any new subject. If one imagines the average book length to be somewhere round 300 pages and one reliably reads a page every two minutes he spends about 10 hours with each book, and what does he consciously retain from the experience?
In the first year after reading the book about a paragraph’s worth of information – plot and character and style and other loose associations – and after five years perhaps two sentences and a decade later a sentence if lucky and prompted. Some books considerably more than that and most books a bit less. So I nearly stopped reading for a year. When I returned it was via a revelation of sorts: The only reason to keep reading was if I enjoyed it and the only way to enjoy it was to read books I enjoyed – every other consideration be damned. Unexpectedly, this brought me to reading more books generally and many many more books coincidentally.
Which is where in the hell this column is going in its pursuit of a new way to enjoy and enjoy covering and enjoy coverage of boxing: I now read between six and 12 books at once, and if I don’t try to blur them together I neither mind if they do. Someone famous or important once said or wrote something to the effect th’t were it financially feasible any true artist should choose anonymity. My new reading approach grants authors effectively that since I can’t hope to keep more than two or three voices straight at once when I’m making no effort to do so. I read till I have a thought that removes my eyes from the page, have that thought then pick up another book. I don’t have any order, and I don’t seem to get more than 10 pages deeper in one book before migrating to the next.
I impart this lengthily because if you’re reading this you enjoy reading and might try this approach and because, more to the point, it seems a proper fitness regimen for our new aficionado endeavor.
Perhaps this makes me look a quitter to the prigs amongst us; the day a person who’s given more than an average amount of his life to the sobriety and tranquility of the written word opts to ingest it like a teenager on Facegramsnaptwitter, the evilest faction of information technology has ruined us. Quite possibly. Though happily.
So went my Saturday of toggling between three fightcards on two apps. I went Roku (DAZN) to cell (DAZN) to Roku (ESPN+).
“Ain’t you got a laptop?” say my betters.
I do, but I realized I liked choosing more than absorbing a blitz; I didn’t want more than two playing at once and’ve developed an oddly enjoyable dependence on peripheral vision. What follows is by no means a factual report of what happened but an honest account of how I remember perceiving what happened:
Stephon Young is not in the WBSS, is he, better check, no, then what’s up with DAZN’s notification system, OK, over to the other DAZN to see the Tommy Coyle guy the Spanish-language broadcast from Boston likes, looks like he’s landing on the Pole, but whoa, that hook to the liver from Ryan Kielczweski just changed the fight entirely and the Spanish broadcasters missed it somehow, so let’s check ESPN+ to see if San Antonio’s Adam Lopez is on, he isn’t, but there’s the Irish kid with the middle finger from the Olympics, Michael Conlan, against some frightened Italian – now this belongs in Boston, south versus north, more than Las Vegas – and Conlan can’t cut Nicola Cipolletta’s escape which reveals Conlan is exactly basic as “Bomac” just gently implied; the leadin movies for WBSS look better than I expect Esquiva Falcao will so it’s over to DAZN in Florida where the turnout is poor but the fights won’t be because the Cuban with a name like Doritos can crack proper and the veteran Pole’ll have chin enough to make him, and after five rounds it’s true Yuniel Dorticos concusses more than Mateusz Masternak but after seven rounds it’s no longer true, and this fight is excellent and close just like Dorticos’ last fight, which makes me think the second mainevent, the one between the Aussie pingpong player and the Puerto Rican titlist, too, will be good and close, but there’s “The Monster” Inoue, and after five rounds of Rodriguez-Moloney I think Inoue could decision Rodriguez with the jab at the same time he flashfreezes Moloney with the cross so it’s time to give Top Rank’s next Asian ticketseller a second look, disappointing as he looked a year ago, and who’s this Rob Brant dude, does anyone else think he’s making Ryota Murata look like Murat Gassiev against Oleksandr Usyk, and bless Tim Bradley for choosing to score the fight before him, over and over, rather than scoring debate points on his cocommentator – Tim has found himself a new career, not a mere hobby – and bless the Vegas judges, too, for scoring the match, not its promoter’s best interests.
Three cheers for Rob Brant!
Power off.
After all that I thought of Top Rank and Todd duBoef’s Brand of Boxing concept, late Saturday, with its partial anonymization of fight-provider. A few times I was quite conscious I was watching Top Rank and a few more times I was quite willfully watching World Boxing Super Series, but most of the rest of the time I was watching boxing and enjoying watching boxing and feeling my 15 monthly dollars very well spent on ESPN+ and DAZN – whoever was doing the broadcasting.
For dropping HBO at the end of 2017 I’m still paying with the house’s money, anyway.
My loyalty to Showtime in 2019 is by no means assured.
Bart Barry can be reached via Twitter @bartbarry
