First off, before we get started, we’re not even going to bother discussing this fight. It was a sentient Ambien overdose that future generations will show to their children to combat night terrors.
Secondly, in the spirit of full transparency, I feel obligated to inform you that I’m typing this on Hunter Biden’s laptop. I found it next to a pile of discarded ballots in a drainage ditch outside western Pennsylvania while I was voting for the 12th time using all my dead in-laws’ names and I should tell you, there’s some pretty cool stuff on here. I wonder what this file titled Corona-Hoax-2020.doc is all about? Who knows. I’ll have Soros look over it and get back to you guys.
Regardless, Bill Gates gave me an adrenochrome enema at the Burisma Group corporate retreat last weekend and I gotta say, I feel fucking great. Let’s go.
Speaking of feeling great, that’s probably not a thing Gabe Rosado is doing right now. Tack another(!) tragic L onto the board for the former Big Knockout Boxing champion and ol’ Leo “The Lion” Sporino himself*. Out of all of Rosado’s losses though — and hoo boy, there are many — this one had to sting the most.
*This is a reference to a character Rosado plays in the 2015 cinematic motion picture Creed, a movie of which I’ve seen roughly 12 minutes. In that span, I was exposed to the “acting” skills of Rosado, Tony Bellew, and Sylvester Stallone. Someone told me Andre fucking Ward shows up later but I threw my TV in a swamp before I had a chance to find out. Boxing movies, by and large, suck total shit but this one felt like a personal attack on me directly. People have told me it’s actually good. It might be. I do not care. I will never find out.
As his professional boxing record begins to resemble a long-distance phone number, and his stock villain from a 1980s arcade game ass tattoos threaten to swallow his entire head, it’s easy to poke fun at a guy like Rosado. But man, you can’t help but feel for him here.
Rosado (25-12-1, 14 KO) may never win the Big One. Shit, he may not get another sniff at the Small One. Guys like Rosado, though, are absolutely vital to boxing’s ecosystem. Gatekeeper fighters who look the part, can go rounds and, to use the most passive-aggressive compliment in boxing, are always game, make up the majority of boxing’s middle class. If you can’t past guys like Rosado, you’re probably not going anywhere. This is blue-collar, meat and potatoes, missionary position boxing, and if you can’t look good doing it, don’t expect the phone to start ringing off the hook.
As he creeps up on his 34th birthday, Danny Jacobs (37-3, 30 KO) had hoped to get back in line for another crack at stardom. Barely squeezing out a lackluster decision (115-113, 115-113, and 113-115) in an absolute fucking snoozer against a guy like Rosado probably doesn’t advance that timeline.
Headlining a rare Friday night card on DAZN from the Seminole Hardrock Hotel and Casino in Hollywood, Florida, Jacobs was perfectly positioned to provide some fireworks against a massive underdog in Rosado. Instead, he let the wick burn down to his fingertips then sat and watched as the neighbor’s dog gobbled up his bloody, disembodied nubs.
Jacobs has never been fully accepted as an elite level talent, and that feels about right. He exists in that hazy netherworld between boxing’s high society and, well, guys who fight on Friday nights. He gives the top dogs a light scare and gladly accepts their money. He feasts on B level guys and happily pads his record. He’s accepted at the party but only as someone else’s plus one. It’s an admittedly uncomfortable position to be in and last night’s stumble against Rosado only complicates matters further. Again, Rosado is a tough, respectable fighter who can hang with anybody, but at this stage of the career Jacobs claims to want to have, he has to absolutely light up a fighter like Rosado.
Last night he did the exact opposite.
About the only moment of intrigue in Jacobs’ and Rosado’s middle school slow dance came as the decision was being announced. With a split decision declared and all three scores revealed, the ring announcer exclaimed “From PHILADELPHIA..!” — famously Rosado’s hometown — and then immediately retracted it and declared Jacobs the winner as Rosado continued to celebrate. It was a moment of pure heartbreaking ineptitude from a sport already rife with it. In other words, par for the course from this wholly unserious sport.
I don’t know where both guys go from here but it feels safe to say it won’t be the marquee event Jacobs, at least, was hoping for. It will likely be a lateral move at best for him as he attempts a bit of damage control from this shitshow. Rosado will soldier on, as always, pounding boxing’s working-class pavement, albeit with the extra dose of goodwill that comes from a perceived robbery against a favored opponent. Boxing loves an underdog and Rosado almost always is.
All in all, this was mostly a wasted night for both the fighters and the fans. That’s okay, it happens. But on one of these rare weekends where the outside world actually gives a shit about boxing and is tuning in — albeit to a fake cash grab exhibition fight solely marketed to teenagers and extremely divorced dads — this felt like a perfect appetizer to Monday morning’s main course of inevitable “Another Black Eye for Boxing” headlines. An annual tradition for mainstream sports media.
Oh well, we’ll survive. We always do.
Now to check out this deleted file on this laptop titled Don’t-Open-Until-After-The-Election.pdf.
Holy shit! You guys aren’t gonna believe this! This is incredible! The future of our democracy is at stake! Wait, what’s this red dot that just appeared between my eyes. Is that a las-
(Photo via DAZN)