I’m a sexist pig. I come to this conclusion late in life, and it is averse to my typically liberal leanings, but the conclusion has become inescapable.
The inspiration for recognizing this regressed enlightenment? I hate women’s boxing.
Do not want any part of it. Want it all to just go away. Want it to disappear from the ledgers of every chronicler of sporting events. It seems like some mad dream of Don King, or Barnum and Bailey, or Billie Jean King after an all-night bender.
There were two women’s bouts on the undercard of Saturday’s Lennox Lewis-Vitali Klitschko heavyweight fight, and in truth I would have rather watched dry rot take hold of the patio deck. There is absolutely nothing appeal-ing to me about watching two women try to knock the snot out of each other.
Blame my old-school father, who taught me to open doors for ladies and treat women like they were special. That traditionalist approach has never inter-fered with recognizing women should have equal opportunity, including the world of sports.
But this is one step up the ladder of modern thinking I can’t take.
I have little problem watching two men try to rip each other’s heads off, so you can scream hypocrisy and I have precious little in the way of logical defense. Sometimes you have to go with your heart, and mine says this is not right.