So you’re trapped indoors without your precious sports to keep you company. It’s just you, your depression, and the chili-drenched sweatpants that are now permanently grafted onto your legs. The dog ate all the toilet paper and your wife already put a lock on the liquor cabinet. You’ve plowed through all six volumes of Faces of Death and you’re dangerously close to opening a bible. Before you go and do something stupid, let’s stop and think about this for a second.
You love boxing but watching an entire fight from your VHS library could take up to an hour and that’s time that you’ve set aside for drinking peach wine out of a Pringle’s can that you’ve ingeniously stashed behind the toilet.
This is where I come in.
Well, me and YouTube.
Ok, mostly YouTube but I dug up the fucking link so get off your high horse!
Sorry, that wasn’t for you. This quarantine is apparently getting to all of us. But if we don’t get day drunk and yell at our loved ones then the virus wins. So in between filing for unemployment and crashing Amazon’s website with your personal lubricant orders, let’s watch some super short ass fights, shall we?
I’m gonna try and do one of these a week until the world reopens so hopefully, that will keep us from having to dip into Butterbean’s back catalog but if that happens SO BE IT.
Until then, let’s start things off with my all-time favorite ADHD banger: Sechew Powell’s bugfuck crazy, 22-second gongshow with Cornelius Bundrage from May 6, 2005.
This is probably the fight that I’ve seen the most in my life and to this day I couldn’t tell you who won, which, as any self-respecting boxing fan knows, is the true sign of a great fight. I remember watching this fight live, and I just watched again now, and I still have no clue. Granted, I was drinking a lot back then, and weed is legal now so you do the math, but the point still stands.
Boxing is the sweet science and the noblest of all sporting traditions and blah blah blah, who cares. I mean, I like boxing or whatever but mostly I’m a fan of high octane, full-blown chaos. Yeah, a nice soufflé is cool I guess, but a soufflé blowing up in a chef’s face and burning his entire kitchen down? Yes, please.
And if you can squeeze the aforementioned chaos into the span of a mid-day piss break? Even better, and my tiny goldfish brain thanks you. Which is why Powell/Bundrage is so god damn perfect. The bell rings, total fucking mayhem ensues, and then it rings again. All in the time it takes shotgun a beer.
I’m sure there’s a backstory or something but it was a long time ago and, in keeping with my lifelong tradition of exerting minimal effort toward anything, I simply refuse to research it. I think both guys were undefeated and I’m pretty sure it was at Foxwoods but knowing any more than that is just wasted space in your cerebellum that would be better spent coming up with future excuses to give your family as to why you’ve abandoned them to live in a sewer and watch this fight repeatedly on your flip phone.
So what happens? I’m glad you asked.
As the opening bell rings to start the round, the two fighters circle each other and throw a few pawing jabs. Then, four fucking seconds into the fight, they both land matching power shots and hilariously drop to the canvas like a bomb went off in their shoes. It’s the rare double knockdown but the ref doesn’t rule it as one. He doesn’t rule it as anything because he, like us, has no idea what the hell is happening. We’re five-Mississippi into this thing and even the ref’s brain has already vapor locked. God damn this fight rips.
Both Powell and Bundrage jump to their feet as their corners scream helpful instructions like “What the fuck?!” and “Did you just see that shit?!” The fight resumes and, I swear I’m not kidding, Powell throws one, single straight left hand that puts Bundrage on his back faster than a shot of room-temperature rail vodka.
We’ve reached our weirdness capacity, right? We’re all tapped out? Not even close.
Bundrage attempts to rise and does a half-cartwheel, faceplant combo into the far ropes. He tries again to get to his feet and this time it goes a little better. He takes a few steps to show he’s good to go and as the ref is taking a look at him he, and I swear I’m not joking, fucking faceplants right there in front of him. It’s insanely funny.
The ref decides he’s seen enough of this shit and rightly calls a halt to the fight. Powell celebrates, Bundrage has no clue what the fuck is happening and the crowd is going bonkers. It’s literally the perfect end to a perfect fight.
So let’s recap. A double knockdown, a yard sale left-hand bomb, a post knockdown swan dive and an exasperated ref. All in 22 glorious seconds. The punch stats for this fight look like they were written in binary. Literally three total punches landed in the whole thing. What a treat.
Not since the “I Like Turtles” kid has 22 seconds of camera time so perfectly summed up an entire career as this fight did for these two. They both went on to do some more shit probably and maybe win a title or whatever but who cares? This is their masterpiece and arguably the most action-per-second ever seen in a boxing ring.
So when (or if) boxing returns, let this fight be a lesson to all future participants: Brevity is good and chaos is better. Find a way to combine them and you’re a fucking god.
(Photo by Marcin Balcerzak/Shutterstock)
