Seasons Beatings: Barclays boxing, fan riot, subway rat attack, and more- heartwarming Christmas tales from Evan Ginzburg...

Seasons Beatings: Barclays boxing, fan riot, subway rat attack, and more- heartwarming Christmas tales from Evan Ginzburg... You ever wake up and you're suddenly dropped into Bizarro World? That happened to me just that this past Saturday. My day had ironically been planned out ever so nicely. First I'd go down to a local library for an exercise class. Only it was cancelled- no reason whatsoever. So instead I went out for pizza, which was- minus the missed exercise session- a 2,000 or so calorie swing not in my favor. Sitting in the local Briarwood, Queens pizzeria I overheard a far louder than necessary teen near me regale a group of four with how he "punched the guy over and over in the face and I broke my pinky." Feeling worse for the guy's face than the teen's finger, I watched the young "ladies" seated around him as they cheered on his epic tale, cursing like sailors in doing so, and swooned as the student most likely to land in prison told his epic bad boy broken pinky story. Heading on the subway to the Barclays in Brooklyn for the Premier Boxing Champions card headlined by the braggadocious Charlo Brothers duo, I had a transfer at the West 4th Street stop. Waiting patiently for the D train I suddenly noticed- on the platform itself- a rather large rat, coming boldly towards an elderly Chinese man. Realizing I was right beyond the man, I looked for objects to leap on should he charge my way. Picking up speed, I was suddenly shocked as the octogenarian calmly waved his cane at the fierce looking rat, who did a quick turn and fled back into the bowels of Hell otherwise known as the NYC subways. Keye Luke/Master Po had done good. Getting off in Brooklyn, I made my way to the Barclays, which on the outside is as ugly an arena as has ever been built. Looking like a cross between a factory and a fortress I entered through airport like security sadly being forced to give up my only 80% empty bottle of water losing my 5 cent bottle return along the way. I noticed the Charlo Brothers and Brooklyn Boxing clothing line prominently displayed and pondered why they don't sell programs anymore but sell THIS instead. Making my way up to a surprisingly good seat I sat in the drafty, less than filled building for a good half hour watching nothing but a DJ of all people spinning happily and loudly while no boxing whatsoever went on. Had I wanted to go to a club I did have THAT option. Finally a fight came on- one sided at that, followed by another lengthy break. Not all that far from me, the diminished Deontay Wilder who the world saw get a gift of a draw vs. Tyson Fury sit down for a televised interview on Fox. To his credit, he acknowledged and smiled and even shook hands with the fans and came off as an overall friendly guy. Hell, I'd be happy to if I still held a Heavyweight championship after losing 9 of 12 rounds. So the main-fight starts and two lumbering Heavyweights in Dominic Brezeale and Carlos Negro who in no way, shape or form, reminded me of Ali-Frazier went about their workmanlike business. Then Jermell Charlo, a supposed superstar champion, comes out, headhunts throughout the fight and shows me nothing special whatsoever against a game Tony Harrison, who shockingly takes his belt in a close one. Many of the knowledgeable fans around me thought Charlo won, but nonetheless his stock went way, way down, as probably did his T-Shirt sales. His utter lack of post-match sportsmanship- the words "sore loser" come to mind- probably didn't help his less than stellar reputation either. Not a great night for young Jermell any way you spin it. That led to his distracted looking brother Jermall coming out against last minute sub Matt Korobov; this similarly didn't harken me back to Leonard/Duran/Hearns. But then the real fun started. Suddenly, a dozen or so man, bar room type brawl, mini-riot broke out RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. Considering there were a sea of empty rows between me and the geniuses belting each other- attesting to the drawing power of the less than mighty Charlo Brothers- the brain trust savagely punching each other in the face and head about five rows in front of me were just a wee bit too close for comfort. One genius' back and neck slammed against the guardrail and I went "ouch" on behalf of him. Then a young guy sucker punched a far bigger, muscular, older guy who flung him over several rows of seats in a high spot that would have made Rey Misterio proud; the dude was literally flying. Now these guys were ALL White and Hispanic and the older Black dudes behind me were having a good old time watching the carnage up close and personal. Except for one guy who proudly said, "I never took my eyes off the fight." Now THAT's a boxing fan. A sea of security swarmed on the brawling mob who promptly and self-defeatingly got tossed out of a solid championship main event, never to be seen again. So young Jermall is clearly losing to the rough Russian, and the Brothers in back of me are all saying how, "Both the Charlos lost." Only he didn't. Given a gift of a decision we all said the same thing. "The judges had it backwards. Jermell should have won and Jermall should have lost." Regardless, I didn't see those T-shirt flying off the racks on my way out. They had been diminished and pretty much exposed at their homecoming ball. You can wear a lion's head to the ring, talk trash, wear pretty tights and dye your hair 27 colors, but you'd best bring your A game to knowledgeable NY fight fans. And they failed miserably. Nonetheless it had been a more than fun show, and I grabbed the first of three trains back to Queens on my sojourn home. Getting off the packed at midnight SRO train (hey it's the MTA), I worked my way to the door, excusing myself as I fought my way to the door. "Excuse me" I said to one woman as I barely brushed against her while exiting. "YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE!" the seemingly mentally ill woman said to me muttering something as I broke long standing Olympic records getting as far away from her as I could as I dashed out the door. When I got home I told my lovely Korean wife my tales from my long, memorable day. Half asleep, and her English still "not quite there," she used her best acting chops to feign understanding what the Hell I was talking about. So I figured I'd blog it out instead. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and Happy New Year everyone. The Evan Ginzburg Show- Village Connection Radio Sundays llAM-1PM www.villageconnectionradio.com Results Jermall Charlo W Matt Korobov, 12 rounds, middleweights Unanimous Decision Jermell Charlo L Tony Harrison, 12 rounds, junior middleweights Unanimous Decision Dominic Breazeale W Carlos Negron, 10 rounds, heavyweights KO 9th round