The Liver Punch: Dancing With Myself

When I was in college, I was very briefly in a band. The sum total of our accomplishments was playing three open mics and recording a cover of Cake’s cover of “I Will Survive,” because that was the only song I could hit the notes for (that means I can’t sing for shit, if you were wondering). Like many a freshman dorm band, we weren’t any good. Even our girlfriends didn’t want to hear us play. It was fun, though, because we all loved music and it gave us something to do instead of studying. 

Normally, our practice took place in the room of the guy who played guitar, because he had equipment and talent, but they generally quickly devolved into me and the drummer smoking weed while he noodled scales before pulling up Limewire or Napster and putting on a video of the band Dream Theater. We would then be treated to soliloquies about what a genius John Petrucci was as he played along with the concert. 

Now, when you’re a teenager who’s just discovered decent weed, that experience is pretty cool. There’s lights and lasers and a guy center stage whose mastery of his craft and natural talent are far beyond what you could ever hope to achieve. However, if you’re not a very specific type of guitar nerd, or have already seen that show, or aren’t a stoned teenager, it can be lacking in the entertainment department. After a few minutes, you’ve kind of seen what there is to see.

Which brings me to Vasyl Lomachenko’s victory over Richard Commey last Saturday night at Madison Square Garden on ESPN. Lomachenko won by unanimous decision with scores of 119-108 (x2) and 117-110. Tony Paolillo must’ve been feeling extra generous, as I would’ve struggled mightily to find three rounds to award to the Ghanaian. Commey is as game as they come and a very good lightweight, but getting outlanded nearly 7-2 whilst connecting on only 12% of your shots is a good sign you’ve been thoroughly dominated.  There were competitive exchanges, but very few rounds. 

Largely, the fight was Lomachenko doing what he’s almost always done, render his opponents inert with his baffling combination of speed, footwork, and upper body movement. Commey was no different. The only standout moment was a 7th round knockdown, after which Lomachenko did enough damage that he began to motion for the ref, or Commey’s corner, to stop the fight. They elected not to, and Commey recovered enough to have a few moments and make it the full distance. What could’ve and should’ve separated this from a slightly violent Ukrainian Folk Dancing exhibition was Lomachenko stepping on the gas and forcing a stoppage. He elected not to, and so we were left with repetition of the same licks narrated by an announce team that’s thoroughly memorized their script. 

I’ve already seen that show.

Delirium Tremens:

  • There are several interesting fighters at lightweight, including new champion George Kambosos, but we should be realistic and admit that Lomachenko is the only known quantity. 
  • Bantamweight Naoya Inoue won by 8th round stoppage over Sran Dipaen Tuesday in a fight that was over before 6 a.m. EST, which sucks for fans stateside, but is largely in keeping with his career since signing with Top Rank.
  • Several people I saw on twitter watched Inoue-Dipaen on a live stream provided by John Riel Casimero. This is one wacky fucking gameshow.
  • Nonito Donaire will be knocking dudes out with his left hook until the day he’s put in the ground, and all I can think is that it’s got to be kind of awkward to get your ass kicked by a guy that nice. 
  • If you don’t have plans Friday night, which I assume to be the case if you read this column, Artur Beterbiev vs Marcus Browne at light heavyweight should be admirably violent. 
  • If I haven’t said so yet, I am going to fire up Skype and grab my hog excited for Amir Khan vs Kell Brook. Those goofy welterweight fucks deserve each other and we deserve their mutual destruction.