At about 8:55 Saturday night, I forked over $49.95 for Calzaghe-Jones. Call it an impulse buy. I find neither the volume patty-cake puncher Joe Calzaghe nor the over-the-hill Roy Jones the type of excitement worth $50. They are great boxers, but great boxers generally don't make great fights. Alone among the hundreds of thousands of pay per viewiers, I bought the undercard, or more specifically, I paid to see the Drunken Master.
An Emanuel Augustus fight is a highlight reel--no edit is needed. He is the only boxer that I have ever seen throw and land a double punch. When the spirit moves him, he places both hands behind his back for extended periods of time and dares his opponents to tag him. A bolo punch for Augustus is as pedestrian as a jab is for other boxers. Whereas showboat fighters distastefully engage in such antics as a final-round taunt to their beaten adversaries, Augustus partakes in theatrics throughout the fight.
Rather than take a sabatical from the sport to go on "Dancing with the Stars," as his one-time opponent Floyd Mayweather did, Augustus puts on a dancing lesson in the ring. His graceful but unorthodox moves make him appear here as a fluid puppet manipulated by invisible strings, there as a herky-jerky robot on the blink. The only thing that I have ever seen approximating Augustus's peculiar in-ring movements is the character "the Drunken Master," who appears in the video game Tekken (and also in a Jackie Chan karate movie). After making the connection, I found out that Augustus actually modelled his most memorable dance on Tekken's Drunken Master. His bizarre moves are better seen than described, and I urge everyone to watch this clip to get an idea why I paid $50 to watch the televised card's "walk in" fight featuring--I use that word loosely since Augustus was hardly the "featured" fighter but rather the "opponent" (and a last-minute replacement opponent at that)--a guy who fights on ESPN as frequently as any boxer. For Augustus, boxing isn't the sweet science but an art. I paid to admire his beautiful art.
Befitting his mercurial ring presence, Augustus is a man of many looks and two names. Midway through his career, he abruptly changed his name from Emanuel Burton to Emanuel Augustus--a point of confusion for many fight fans. His look changes dramatically from fight-to-fight, so much so that until he kicks the Drunken Master into full gear his hardcore fans might not even know who they are watching. He styles his hair in cornrows, in a straightened Johnny Mathis look, in dreds, in a baldy--this weekend he fought with a bushy Grizzly Adams beard.
You name the time, you name the weight, you name the place--you name the weight and place two days before the fight--and Emanuel Augustus will be there. He fights at lightweight, junior welterweight, and welterweight. He has fougnt in Australia, Denmark, Russia, and points beyond. He's a traveling man, or, more precisely, a journeyman--albeit an oxymoronic superstar journeyman whose cult status has grown to such levels that a documentary titled "The Journeyman" is currently being filmed about him.
As I watched him Saturday night, I concurred with the broadcasters that Emanuel Augustus is the greatest 29-loss fighter in the history of boxing. Alas, watching the judges' split decision, the perils of continually taking fights in the hometowns of opponents hit me brutally. Augustus took the miscarriage of judging justice more stoically. He is now the greatest 30-loss fighter in the history of boxing, and no one can take that title away from him--until the next time he accedes to a paycheck's demand that he work on three days notice as an "opponent" for an up-and-coming fighter in that prospect's hometown.
Yawn. UFC is where it's at.
That's funny, at times it looked like some kind of camera trickery was in action.... he's quick and brave.
who is ripping off who then, Augustus or Prince Nassem?
