?Guess who?s strapped for cash?? Frankie Gambino said, sipping his Wild Turkey and then spinning the tumbler style glass in tight little circles on the paper napkin doily?
We were reading excerpts from Floyd Mayweather?s hype-filled, hatred laced rant on ESPN TV (they mute the sound at Shucks?our local joint, while classic rock wafts from the speakers).
Mayweather, who wouldn?t know sushi from sinangag and probably eats Big Macs after all night sessions at strip clubs, was doing his best in an obvious attempt at re-kindling interest in a match with Manny Pacquiao. He went on in a racist, homophobic tirade that would have surely curled Al Sharpton?s hair.
?Such a scemo, that one,? continued Frankie. ?A pint-sized, wannabe Ali!?
Hey, I like Floyd Mayweather, he?s one hell-of-a boxer and his record attests to his grandeur but such cheap tactics to get back in the spot-light only highlight himself as low-brow boor.
?All that little fessi is doing is making a bad thing worse,? Frankie scorned. ?It?s bad enough that they had to travel to Texas to find someone who would license that cheat Margarito so that the Pac Man can keep fighting. But for phony Floyd to spew his sewer laced salvos at a guy who might well be the only puncher Tinker Bell ever faced is disgusting!?
For once, I couldn?t argue with my ghost-of-gumba Frankie Gambino. Boxing, like all sports today, is mired in over-the-top exploitation and self-grandstanding and I think that?s sad. How about simply going back to, ?Touch gloves and come out fighting??
