 Family Friendliness: A WVBA Cornerstone Boston, Massachusetts (LP) --- When the dust settles on this earth, Boston will always be known for two things: The Samuel Adams Brewery and the night the WVBA fought there in 2006. The Boston Tea Party used to be on the list, but Doc Louis’s classy moniker for this night’s fighting action – “The Boston Tea Bag Party” – has ushered that once-important piece of American history into the trash bin next to the Articles of Confederation and Spiro Agnew. But why are we talking about vice presidents and beer makers when we really could and should be talking about video game boxers. Video game boxers with the charisma and punch to push this boxing organization to heights never before seen and to strip clubs yet to be opened, that is. After money and interest problems on the parts of the boxers, owners, and referees sidelined the WVBA for over a year, many people were interested to see the federation back in action. The packed Garden-Formerly-Known-As-The-Fleet Center proved this, although there was a conspiracy theory floating around that many of the people were in the building due to the fact that the signs might have said, “Massive Government Money Give-Away! Anyone with a pulse will receive $1,000, those without- $750” instead of “WVBA: Fake internet boxing.” Regardless, the place was packed. What these possibly duped fans had in front of them was an intriguing card. Mr. Sandman and Bald Bull, racially inverted twins, were going to square off for the first time in the reincarnation. And Super Macho Man was going to defend his Major Circuit belt for the first time against the Punching Pile of Pastry known as Glass Joe. Who would be the conqueror? Who would be the hero? Who in the crowd would stay until the end? Mysteries galore! WC #3 Mr. Sandman (2-2) vs. MC #2 Bald Bull (2-2) With Mr. Sandman hailing from relatively nearby Philadelphia, the Beantown crowd had an easy ally to support. Besides, Bald Bull was being implicated in a string of late night shedding incidents on tavern furniture that had left the public frightened and generally nauseous. As the bell sounded in the first round, both men took the time to make sure that their heads would not scrape the ceiling. This proved not to be a problem, although their craniums were dangerously close to the overhead scoreboard utilized by the tandem of shitty tenants that play winter sports in Boston. With one source of concussions presumably out of the way, it was up to each combatant to introduce another. Bald Bull was the first to get things rolling in his favor. Mr. Sandman, stunned by the appearance of Bald Bull, stood in awe wondering if he too, might be that ugly. Bald Bull, meanwhile, was stunned by the dexterity that comes with being “sober” and used this to his advantage in laying into Mr. Sandman. Sandman absorbed a number of lefts and rights from Bald Bull, before becoming enraged at his newly-discovered ugliness and the messenger that brought it to him. Sandman responded with a barrage of his own before the bell sounded on a very even first round. Advice to both fighters between fighters ranged from “Go for the technical points by softening the body and then delivering counters to the head”- Sandman’s camp to “Hit him in the penis” - Bull’s camp. As the second round began, Sandman began to pick up on the frenzy he finished the first period with. Lefts and rights were flying, along with the obligatory and stupid sleeping references. Bull was clearly overmatched by his African-American adversary and finally turned the tide when he followed the commands of his corner and delivered an Everlast to Mr. Sandman’s junk. Referee Mario, approximately 12 stories below both the fighters and their sexual organs, was unable to see this boxing infraction. With Sandman hunched over like a man that had just been hit in the balls (similes aren’t my strong suit,) Bald Bull retreated to the ropes and then steamrolled Sandman with the Bull Charge. An outraged crowd rose to their feet to cheer on Sandman and hopefully sneak a peak at his swelling crotch. Sandman rose to his feet on the seven count and charged at Bald Bull. The two engaged in a colossal tussle that will be remembered by, well, nobody, because it was just an unpolished display of belly ramming before the bell sounded. Knowing he had to make a big statement in the third, Mr. Sandman fed off the crowd’s urging and his Philly Fanatic stuffed animal in preparation for the big collision. Bull had already gone to the well with his antics in the second round and had nothing left for what Mr. Sandman was going to offer him. Sandman,, swollen privates and all, began battering the brain holder of Bald Bull. Bull was woozy, but he still was able to remember the commands of his corner: Watch out for the Dream Sequence. Sure enough, Sandman began to set up for it and Bull set up to protect himself. But in a move that equaled sweet justice, Sandman pulled out the rug on Bull and instead delivered a stern but unspectacular punch to the Turk’s abdomen. Completely unprepared, the decades of stale Miller Genuine Draft in Bull’s body reacted in vicious disapproval as Bull hit the canvas hard. Referee Mario waddled over and tried to count to ten, but Bull managed to stagger to his feet at the nine count. Bull listlessly ambled about the ring for the bout’s final minute, absorbing punches and insults from the crowd, before the bell sounded on the match. Slo Mo Jones, Major Circuit official, scored the fight 29-28 in favor of Mr. Sandman, proving yet again that justice and furry Major League Baseball merchandise win out over the Ottoman Empire every time. MC Champion Super Macho Man (3-1) vs. MC #1 Glass Joe (3-1) As much fun as the last bout was, the main event featured an intriguing rematch that was for - get this - a belt. That might not sound like much, but when Glass Joe is involved, that means a lot. Glass Joe has been historically such a bad boxer that the only thing holding his trunks up has been masking tape. Here was a chance for him to bring home something a little shinier and perhaps more valuable. Comedian George Carlin had this to say about the fight: “Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day. Teach him how to fish, and he will sit in a boat and drink beer all day.” With that thorough pre-fight analysis fresh in our minds, we as WVBA observers were excited to see Glass Joe putting up a defense against the champ. Not only was he putting up a defense, but he was even countering with something that if you squinted hard enough, might be mistaken for offense. Yes, fans, Macho’s wild uppercuts and crazy breast flexes were being deftly dodged by Glass Joe and a few of his feminine slaps were finding their way onto Super Macho Man’s person. A few people wondered if these were advances of a sexual, not violent, nature, but I’m going to give Joe the benefit of the doubt. In fact, the crowd actually cheered a bit for Joe between rounds. Sure they despised his sissy guts, but Macho’s body odor (one spectator described it as “whey protein and flatulence”) was pushing them more and more to his corner. The crowd rose to their feet and began an unmistakable “JOE! JOE! JOE!” chant. Joe rose from his stool and lifted his glove high in the air. An ultra-serious scowl covered his face as the sweat began to pour out like Great White fans from a nightclub. Leonardite.com Leonard, North Dakota 58052 Other Notes - Glass Joe's record dropped to 3-2, with both losses coming against Super Macho Man - Doc Louis reviewed the low blow in the first fight and decided to let it go, even though it came against his friend Mr. Sandman. The official WVBA reasoning was, "That's some funny shit, man." - The LP's weak Great White joke pales in comparison to the former T-Shirt Hell headline of "Nightclub Fire Kills All 60 of Great White's Fans." Doc Louis is fully confident that this will steer some potential litigation elsewhere |