…Continued from the previous post.

Allan Green (left) vs. Glen Johnson

At the MGM Grand Garden Arena, it was almost showtime – both figuratively and literally – and the place was all a twitter…well, both figuratively and literally.

We were just about to go live on Showtime Championship Boxing for the Glen Johnson vs. Allan Green bout, which would warm up the television audience for the Big One:  Juanma Lopez vs. Rafael Marquez for the WBO World Featherweight Championship.

After an undercard played to a small but appreciative audience, the atmosphere had definitely turned into an official “scene”. Judging by the blanket of cell phone screens alive in the dark arena, more than a few people were texting, Twittering, or…what was it that we used to do in the olden days?…oh, right – talking to their friends. And all with the same message. “Turn on your TV! This is so cool!”
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Anthony Lenk vs. Danny Escobar in Undercard Bout

“How long could it possibly take to go 2.1 miles?”

I asked that of myself while sitting in a Las Vegas hotel room recently, debating when to pull myself away from the college football game I was watching and head over to the MGM Grand Garden Arena.

The undercard was just about to start, but it would be hours before Juanma Lopez and Rafael Marquez would enter the ring for the WBO World Featherweight Championship. And I already had my ticket in hand. So I sat back and watched the rest of the game before venturing out.

In answer to the question above, I’m pretty sure that salmon can complete the full upstream journey to spawn in the time that it takes to navigate two miles on The Strip, find the right place to park, and wend your way through the MGM Grand catacombs to your seat. And the salmon probably have an easier time of it.

Once I got there I got all nostalgic. “It seems like just yesterday that I left my hotel room – where does the time go?”
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Here’s the thing about sumo – it is a sport with all pretense stripped away. A one-on-one flashpoint collision with one sole objective: To overwhelm and physically dominate one’s opponent. Testosterone on testosterone. And if you lose, it can often be in humiliating fashion.

Yet over the course of three hours spent at the U.S. Sumo Open, I witnessed not a single display of anger or bitterness. Literally dozens of matches took place without incident. No taunting. Zero smack-talking. Not a trace of the intimidation techniques so common (and celebrated) across the pro sports ranks today.

These guys just lined up, looked each other in the eye, and had at it, with the best man winning that particular match. And after each match was done, both sumos stood to face each other across the ring and bowed. It was an environment of deep mutual respect and competitive humility.

It was the anti-NFL. The NBA with a muzzle. It was dignified.
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There’s really no other way of looking at it. I spent three hours of a Sunday afternoon watching very large men engage in a centuries-old tradition. In diapers. That is to say, they were in diapers, not I. “How did this come to be?” you might ask.
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The other day I was talking with my friend Jerry – aka “Da Guy” – about my upcoming maiden visit to a pro wrestling event, and how intrigued I was to find out what all the commotion was about.

He listened for a bit and then relayed to me a story from his television journalism days, when he had covered a WWF event. As he told it, he arrived early and was setting up shop at a ringside media table, when a representative from the WWF sauntered over and said with voice lowered, “I’m not so sure I’d pick that particular spot”.

Da Guy took that advice at face value and moved to another table. Sure enough, early in the first match of the evening, one of the wrestlers was tossed entirely out of the ring and landed with a thud on the very table that Da Guy had initially occupied.

“That’s an amazing story!” I said. “What were the chances of that happening?”

Da Guy was quiet for a long moment, as if he were contemplating something. “Enjoy the show, Tim”, he finally said.
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