By Lyle Fitzsimmons - It’s one thing to be wrong.
It’s another thing to be so preposterously wrong that you breathe deeply and thank God for the restraint that kept you from making a really ****** wager on what you saw as a sure thing.
Such was the case with me, Miguel Cotto and Sergio Martinez on Saturday night.
As you might have read in this space last week, I had no doubts heading into the weekend.
The reigning middleweight champion was bigger, stronger, faster, more accomplished and simply itching for the chance to take a few nicely-compensated whacks at a guy he considered an A-side diva.
I got to the Garden, sat inches above an ice-cold slab through undercard bouts that were intermittently titillating and trance-inducing, and waited for my Tuesday morning forecast to be proven prescient.
In fact, as a colleague arrived in the media section just a few seconds before the opening bell and asked who I liked, I dropped my pen, leaned to my right and said, “To be honest, I think Sergio kicks his ass.”
A minute later, the champ was on the floor … and I was frantically texting my wife to promise I hadn’t gone through with the boast I made as I headed for the airport – that I’d “bet the house” on Sergio.
After all, to be proven a fool is one thing.
To be left a homeless fool because of it is quite another.
Still, now that a few days have passed and the initial shock has faded, I actually would have a hard time being happier that Cotto took care of his business. I’ve been a fan of his for many years, have always found him cordial, professional and accommodating with his interviews and have long considered him to be one of the truly decent guys both in and out of the ring.
He may have been a diva, but he certainly proved his point.
And now that he’s done so, my heart’s been set to racing as I ponder what might be next. [Click Here To Read More]
It’s another thing to be so preposterously wrong that you breathe deeply and thank God for the restraint that kept you from making a really ****** wager on what you saw as a sure thing.
Such was the case with me, Miguel Cotto and Sergio Martinez on Saturday night.
As you might have read in this space last week, I had no doubts heading into the weekend.
The reigning middleweight champion was bigger, stronger, faster, more accomplished and simply itching for the chance to take a few nicely-compensated whacks at a guy he considered an A-side diva.
I got to the Garden, sat inches above an ice-cold slab through undercard bouts that were intermittently titillating and trance-inducing, and waited for my Tuesday morning forecast to be proven prescient.
In fact, as a colleague arrived in the media section just a few seconds before the opening bell and asked who I liked, I dropped my pen, leaned to my right and said, “To be honest, I think Sergio kicks his ass.”
A minute later, the champ was on the floor … and I was frantically texting my wife to promise I hadn’t gone through with the boast I made as I headed for the airport – that I’d “bet the house” on Sergio.
After all, to be proven a fool is one thing.
To be left a homeless fool because of it is quite another.
Still, now that a few days have passed and the initial shock has faded, I actually would have a hard time being happier that Cotto took care of his business. I’ve been a fan of his for many years, have always found him cordial, professional and accommodating with his interviews and have long considered him to be one of the truly decent guys both in and out of the ring.
He may have been a diva, but he certainly proved his point.
And now that he’s done so, my heart’s been set to racing as I ponder what might be next. [Click Here To Read More]
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