Monday, February 24, 2020

The Rocktagon Recap of Wilder vs. Fury 2!

What better way to cap off “Black History Month” than by watching a Gypsy pummel an Afro-American from Alabama like he was Rodney King for seven rounds?

By: Jimbo X

“They picked the wrong month for this fight to happen. When I knock out ‘The Gyspsy Queen,’ he’ll become a Black History Month trivia question.”

“But February made me shiver, with every paper I delivered, bad news on the doorstep, I couldn’t take one more step … something touched me deep inside, the day the music died.”

The second Deontay Wilder/Tyson Fury bout on Feb. 22 began with a rapper saying the word “black” approximately 838 times while images of Martin Luther King, Jr. flashed in the background and ended with a nearly 7-foot-tall Gypspy leading a 20,000-plus-strong crowd through a singalong of “American Pie.”

You … might want to consider that something of a paradigm shift, not just in the world of Heavyweight boxing, but in many respects, American culture as a whole.

I’m not the kinda’ guy who likes to read too much into the symbolism of things, since such artifices are wholly subjective and all. But at the same time, one can’t help but feel as if Fury’s triumph over the formerly unbeaten Wilder represented something a little deeper for American culture than a simple changing of the WBC Heavyweight Championship guard. 

Think about it. The biggest star in professional boxing isn’t just a white dude, it’s a white Irish Gypsy from Manchester who, over the past few years, has done all of the following:

At this point, you’d have to consider Fury the single most BASED human being on the planet, and after mercilessly pummeling the most powerful black athlete on the planet over the weekend for seven rounds, I’m genuinely wondering if Black People Twitter will ever recover. Indeed, just take a look at this one elevated meme from the social media cosmos which shows a soured Deontay supporter baselessly blaming Wilder’s loss on “racism,” because at this point, I just assume it’s second nature for African-Americans to blame everything that doesn’t go the way they prefer on the almost-impossible-to-define social construct.

While Fury went out of his way to NOT make the highly-anticipated match a symbolic holy war between the melanated and the un-melanated, Wilder did everything in his power to baste the fight in racial tribalism. That’s evident by his grandiose walkout, in which rapper D Smoke serenaded the soon-to-be former champ to the ring to a song titled “Black Habits,” whose lyrics include such starkly apolitical, aracial verses as:

“Black as the burnt rubber, hitting doughnuts in front of the store where two months later they got stopped and the cops found a black burner underneath the seat on some Nat Turner / Black as the judge robe when the case closed, now your life on the backer” 

… and, of course, the incredibly subtle refrain of …

“Praise black Jesus, play black Moses, give ‘em flowers while they still here, black roses, everything / Black tie, black ride, everything, everything, black pride, black lives, everything

So I guess it’s safe to assume that — with all those allusions to the BLM movement and the death of Michael Brown and whatnot — that Wilder obviously wanted the fight to convey a strong sense of racial identitarianism. Which, in the United States, is totally cool, just as long as you’re not white. Go ahead, just imagine the furor that would have ensued had Fury come out to the EXACT same song that Wilder did, only with the word “white” substituted for “black.”

Apparently, the collective consciousness is picking up on the potential greater subtext of the fight, too. I’ve seen some social media hanger-ons tout Fury’s victory as the triumph of color-blindedness over ethnic tribalism, while others have just come right out and called Tyson’s win the pendulum swinging back towards Caucasian preeminence in the field of both combat sports and popular culture. Regardless, everybody seems to be viewing Wilder’s loss as a de facto loss for black identitarianism as a whole — and after years now of excessive #SuperBowlSoBlack and Black Panther-esque in-group self-praise, it’s kinda’ hard to not feel just a little giddy about the unabashed ethnotarians getting knocked down a pegespecially by a weird-headed European whose training regimen consists of masturbating upwards of seven times a day.

But you’re not here to hear me prattle on and on about the sociocultural ramifications of the fight, you’re here so I can give you my patented, REAL-TIME round-by-round recap of the WBC Heavyweight Championship bout — which, wouldn’t you know it, I’ve republished in whole right below the cut ...

Wow, I haven't seen a large black man dropped by a bald white man like that since ... nah, even *I* ain't going there.

Tyson Fury comes out looking a lot like Woody Harrelson and dressed like a fucking king while the announcer talks about his nomadic ancestry as an Irish traveler. He chooses "Crazy" by Patsy Cline as his walkout music, even though he's not technically *walking out*, but literally CARRIED to the ring on a throne by a buncha' buxom wenches dressed like Xena: Warrior Princess. Of course, they ain't really carrying him, there's like some sort of motorized cart underneath him, but still, this is the most straight-up 1988 Macho Man Randy Savage WWF shit I've ever seen in my life and I fuckin' love it. "And at 6'9, you step OVER the top rope," the announcer comments.

And that's our cue for the WBC champion to come out. He's seranaded to the ring by a rapper who looks a lot like Katt Williams who keeps talking about "Purple Rain" and "that nigga' from Inglewood." That leads to Wilder coming out dressed like a diamond-clad Power Rangers villain, while a video montage of "iconic" African-Americans plays on the video wall in tribute to Black History Month. Meanwhile, the rapper keeps talking about all the black things he likes, like judge's robes, black habits, black tuxedos, black hugs, black love, black Jesus and black Moses. "Black Pride, Black Lives, everything." So, uh, nothing racial going on here. Like, at all. Then the announcer says something about Wilder trying to send energy and love to the audience, which, yeah, to me sounds like some puffed up bullshit.

The crowd slightly boos Deontay during the formal ring intro, because they're RACIST and not because he's a loudmouth tool. His girlfriend/wife at ringside ... looks exactly what you think she would look like. Fury gets more cheers than boos, and I assure you, his wife/girlfriend ... looks just like you'd imagine her, too, as well.

Ref Kenny Bayless makes a crack about the boxers' trunks being a tad high, and he cautions them to keep it clean at all times. The two combatants touch gloves and round one, it is officially underway.

Fury comes storming out the gate. Andre Ward and Lennox Lewis are doing color commentary, by the way, and not just because they are commentators of color. Fury comes into this fight at 273 pounds. He goes for a sweeping round and Deontay fires back with a HARD right hand. Wilder lands another solid shot on the ropes, but Fury blocks most of it with his King Kong-like left arm. Fury unloads a barrage of rights and breaks Wilder's guard with a cinder block left. Fury hits a sweeping right and Fury nails a big shot against the ropes. Fury lands a HUGE jab with 10 seconds to go. Wilder whiffs on a body shot at the bell.

Round two. They show a replay of the jab from round one, and it looks like Deontay walked into it like an absolute tard. Fury whiffs on a right early and he's looking for some low body shots. Fury with another great jab and Wilder tries to start working the body. Fury clubs Wilder with another right, and Wilder comes back with a big right hand of his own. Wilder and Fury clinch and the ref separates them. Wilder whiffs on another hook and Tyson hits a body shot. Fury lands a big right but Wilder blocks most of it. There's a clinch and Fury gets a couple of body shots in with Wilder in a headlock. The ref breaks 'em up. Tyson lands a left and then the CLOBBERS Wilder with a heavy right. Deontay looks for a sweeping right hand and Fury follows suit with a FEROCIOUS jab. Fury rattles off a fantastic combo in the corner as the bell sounds.

Round three. Wilder is fed an entire Aquafina bottle in the corner while Tyson just sits there in the corner looking all stoic and shit. Bayless advises the fighters to "avoid the heads," which is a really weird command, when you think about it, for a boxing match. Fury comes in behind the jab and lands a LETHAL short uppercut. Fury with another clubbing blow. "Awkward, but effective," the announcer comments. Fury just misses on a huge right. Tyson with another headlock and Wilder clinches against the ropes. Fury with another sweeping right, and he is just DOMINATING with that tonight. Tyson with a short jab followed by a hard right. There's a clinch and the ref breaks them up. AND FURY DROPS WILDER! Looks like it was a hard right hand upside the head. Wilder tries to scramble away from another Fury barrage and he trips. The ref says it wasn't a knockdown, although I'm pretty sure that short uppercut Fury landed was *probably* what sent his proud black ass crashing to the canvas. Wilder turtles up as Fury lands one more clean shot to close out the round.

Round four. The knockdown shot was a hard right, coming in from over the top.  There's a clinch early and Wilder tries to get some dirty shots in. The ref breaks them up and there's another clinch in the corner. Fury chases after Wilder and Deontay TRIPS again. Fury with a hard body shot, and another. "This is a mauling effort from Fury so far," the announcer comments. Meanwhile, Lewis says Wilder has "a balance problem" right now. Well, no, he's got a "getting his ass kicked by an almost 300-pound Gypsy" problem, actually. Fury keeps pummeling Wilder, getting a couple of hard shots off against the ropes. There's a brief clinch and Fury just leans all his weight into Wilder. Deontay looks fucking DEAD on his feet at this point. Fury lands back-to-back heavy rights, and gets a great counter uppercut at the bell. Fury is just DOMINATING every aspect of this fight right now.

So in addition to winning the WBC Heavyweight Championship, Tyson Fury now has Hepatitis.

Round five. Hey, Tyson's cutman is "Stitch" from the UFC. That's pretty cool. Fury comes storming out the gate and ROCKS WILDER'S WORLD with a humongous combo. Tyson is just chopping Wilder down in the clinch. Fury with another hard right, and that headlock clinch technique of his is gonna' revolutionize this sport. AND FURY DROPS WILDER AGAIN WITH A BODY SHOT! Wilder gets back to his feet and Fury hits Deontay with another clubbing blow. WILDER STUMBLES AGAIN AND HE ALMOST FALLS THROUGH THE ROPES. Deontay's ear is bleeding like crazy. Fury uses the headlock clinch again and SANDBLASTS Wilder with another right hand. The ref deducts a point from Fury because he doesn't want his fellow black man to get knocked out in Black History Month, presumably. Fury closes out the round landing about five or six shots in succession. Folks, we may have to rewrite the definition of "ass-kicking" after this fight.

Round six. Good lord, Wilder is fucking CARVED up in the corner. "His eardrum is most likely ruptured," the announcer says. Then Lewis struggles to pronounce the word "equilibrium" and we all chortle. Fury comes in with another heavy right and he SWARMS Wilder with a combo. Deontay has less life in him than the titular character in Weekend at Bernie's at this point. Fury ragdolls Wilder in the corner and clips him with another bodyshot. Fury has Wilder trapped against the ropes. The ref separates them. Fury comes in over the top and he keeps clobbering Wilder in the corner. Fury lands another short combo and Wilder's blood is LITERALLY spraying across the ring. Fury with a HARD left and Wilder drops back into the corner again. THEN FURY LICKS WILDER'S BLOOD OFF HIS OWN SHOULDER IN THE CLINCH! "That was outrageous!" the announcer declares. Of course, if he *really* wanted to be outraged, he could always look up FBI data on interracial homicides, but hey, that's none of my business.

Round seven. Of course, they HAVE to show Fury licking the blood off in slow-motion again. Well, that gives new meaning to the phrase "The Delectable Negro," I suppose. Now it looks like Wilder's jaw is swollen. Fury hits him with a right hand and now, he's stalking Deontay down like a lion preying upon a gazelle — a gazelle with a REALLY shitty corner crew who don't even ATTEMPT to address his injuries in between rounds. Fury with another head-snapping jab and Fury clips him with a left on the ropes. There's a clinch in the corner and Wilder is throwing sloppy ass windmill punches. Now Fury is UNLOADING on Wilder in the corner, AND DEONTAY'S CAMP THROWS IN THE TOWEL! 

The official TKO stoppage comes in at 1:39 of round seven. In the post-fight interview, Wilder says he's "doing good" and that the outcome "is what it is." He says he wished his corner would've let him go out on his shield, which let's face it, probably would've resulted in Deontay having permanent brain damage. "This is what big time boxing is all about, the best must fight the best," he says, before adding that he hopes everyone in attendance "gets home safely." He also alludes to some vague "issues" heading into the fight, possibly some kind of leg injury. 

Then we throw it to Tyson Fury, he thanks Jesus Christ for the victory. He also praises Wilder for "manning up" in the fight, stating that he will be a champion again some day, but for now? "The King has returned to his throne." Then he leads the arena through an impromptu rendition of Don McLean's "American Pie" and it actually sounds halfway decent. Oh fuck, I've got legit goosebumps now, and I'm not even joking. "What a moment for the Gypsy King," the announcer comments. And fuck, I REALLY can't think a better sentence to go out on than that, folks. I really can't.

...and ironically enough, the towel that stopped the fight was WHITE.

You know, I’ve watched the fight three times now, and from a technical standpoint, two things keep leaping out at me.

First and foremost, there’s probably going to be entire military strategy tomes written about the brilliance of Fury’s offensive game plan that evening. While everybody was naysaying his weight gain, that 40-pound-plus girth differential ended up being Tyson’s secret weapon, as multiple times throughout the fight he used his extra flab to literally COMPRESS Deontay into exhaustion during clinches. Indeed, that could be the single most revolutionary thing about the bout, from a technical stance — from here on out, expect EVERYBODY to start copying the whole headlock/halfway guillotine choke clinch technique that Fury pioneered in this contest.

The other thing that jumps out at me is, holy shit, did Fury absolutely rule the whole entire fuckin’ world with those overhand rights. The entire time I was watching this bout, I couldn’t help but be reminded of the Randy Couture/Tim Sylvia bout from 2007, where Couture used more or less the same striking strategy to pound his much larger foe like a government bongo. I think we can all agree that Deontay’s right hand is one of the deadliest weapons in combat sports history, but Tyson’s pressure completely nullified it. You’d think that considering the wingspan discrepancy between the two fighters that Fury would try to use a ranged jab approach and keep the fight at a distance, maybe with the strategy of cutting in close in the clinch and scoring an uppercut or two when Deontay left himself open. But no, Tyson completely bucked conventional wisdom and employed an offensive blueprint of coming in over the top and just SWEEPING at the motherfucker until he ended up looking like a week-old prune left behind a kerosene heater. Not since Ali’s rope-a-dope strategy has the boxing world seen an outside-the-box offensive strategy that proved THIS successful at THIS high of a level in the sport — when it comes to the Sweet Science, there’s no denying that Fury is a goddamn savant

Especially in the wake of the last fight, Fury’s win over the weekend is absolutely indulgent. In fact, not since Couture ass-wrecked Sylvia in that aforementioned UFC Heavyweight clash can I recall a one-sided drubbing this enjoyable, this entertaining and this satisfying. Considering it totally lacked anything even remotely resembling competitiveness, I suppose you can’t objectively call it a “great” fight by any stretch, but just in terms of sheer emotion and entertainment, it’s undoubtedly one of the most memorable moments in boxing history, maybe even a top ten moment in my lifetime thus far

Only time will tell where we go from here. Fury vs. Joshua to unify all the damn belts is the obvious go-to, but you know how boxing promoters are. A third tilt between Wilder and Fury isn’t out of the question, either, and they could book Fury in a warm-up bout against somebody like Dillian Whyte or Oscar Rivas around late summer, you know, just to keep the PPV revenue coming in. Or hell, Fury might piss hot for crack on his next drug test and the stip him of the title and he gets banned for a year — at this point, none of the above would really surprise me.

But what’s known for sure is that, for one glorious February night in 2020, Tyson Fury beat the living dogshit out of Deontay Wilder, and for a brief moment in time, all was right in the world.

And thank god, nobody will ever be able to take that away from us. Hallelujah!


Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.