Just can’t bring myself to watch people inflict life-long injuries on each other. Let alone get excited about it. Same with American football.
The sugary succor.
Young hooligans compete to see who can accrue the most brain damage by heading a ball into a net.
The candy crocket.
Middle-to-upper class young-uns attempt to crush one another’s skulls using hard, red balls.
Extremely rich old men compete to kill the most young men, throwing driver after driver at retaining walls in F1 cars.
The Footsy Ball.
Massively drugged up behemoths smash barely protected skulls to determine who is better at making a leather egg cross a line.
The sneezing whit.
Blah blah etc etc, let the false equivalences flow.
(I may be being misinterpreted here, save your likes, lest I surprise you)
One of the earliest forms of fencing in tournaments involved two combatants on each side of a fence, taking turns bashing each other over the head with a mace. The trick was that they wore special armoured head and shoulder pieces, as the winner was the first to force his opponent to go to his knees or fall down.
One of my favorite moments of the original Escape From The Planet of the Apes is when Cornelius is asked what he thinks of a boxing match and he replies, “It’s barbaric.”
This is exactly why I only watch chess boxing.
I’ve always referred to boxing as “The noble art of two men giving each other permanent brain damage.”
Bare-knuckle boxing always seemed yet more barbaric to me, until I learned that the purpose of boxing gloves was to protect the hand, allowing boxers to hit each other even harder (and thereby inflict more brain trauma). That the modern, sanitized version is actually the more violent seems like a metaphor for various elements of modern life, somehow.
That’s part of it. You would still want hand protection for marketing reasons. A fight thrown because someone got their finger caught and broken has much less audience appeal than a knockout.
The original expression was “The Sweet Science of Bruising” reflecting the author’s conceit that strategy inherent in “London Prize” distinguished it from other forms of pugilism
He left out the popular drinking game where you attempt to pin a dropped ping-pong ball against the wall with your forehead. Every time you fail you do a shot and try again.
You can imagine how that progresses.
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