I didn’t actually realize that there’d be a fight this weekend as I didn’t hear a peep about it anywhere. I’m so amazed that none of my 5,000 friends on Facebook even talked about it – especially because I seem to know such boxing experts.

 

 

OK, obviously I’m kidding around because I really am very lucky to be friends with such boxing aficionados. The non-stop barrage of memes and posts and then the begging for any way to get out of paying to watch the fight (so not ghetto at all) that I’d forgotten about when I had my tussle with Floyd Mayweather.

 

 

 

 

Full disclosure, I never really had a tussle with Mayweather so much as I had to hustle which rhymes with tussle, which is a pretty close distinction in my book. After hearing about the Mayweather – McGregor fight relentlessly, my wife said “didn’t you see him on the street?” and I was like “No, where would I see him – Macy’s? as if we run in the same circles totally forgetting that in fact, we do. I was leaving work one day and stumbled upon a massive crowd while he was out jewelry shopping in NYC. As most people do, he was just trying to blend in nonchalantly like an everyday guy out shopping. No one might have even noticed him except for the crowd of paparazzi with cameras and his gigantic posse of security. I mean gigantic in the number of security members and size of said guards. It was like he had his very own Grizz and Dot Com – TIMES TEN.

 

 

I’m really not one to question anyone’s physical abilities – especially considering the fact that I’m about as tough as a third grade girl on crutches – but I thought he was a pretty tough dude and he was traveling with more security than certain government dignitaries.

 

 

I’m not the most alert person in the world, but seeing a crowd of about a hundred people staring into the window of a jewelry store gave me a hint that someone was around, but I couldn’t tell who it was. All I could see through the big crowd of people jockeying for position was those security guards and glimpses of his big sunglasses which were totally unnecessary for a January afternoon by the way. The lady next to me told me what was going on with a sneer, as if I should be able to readily identify anyone with no line of sight through a big crowd like that; another reason to wish I had that bionic eye like Colonel Steve Austin. The stalker in me went into stealth mode, and repeated the mantra my training instilled in me: What would Mr. T do?

 

 

 

 

 

As Floyd was leaving the store, I hit the pavement bobbing and weaving like him on Saturday night to get through the crowd. I ducked, I dodged, I zigged, zagged then ran to the corner – just like my training taught me. Side note: by “my training”, I mean repeat viewings of Mr. T’s iconic performance as Clubber Lang in Rocky III. As fast as I was, Mayweather rushed out quickly and he wasn’t stopping. No one, and I mean no one, was getting close enough to get a picture with him so I had to settle for my patented chase and snap. I got a few pics and actually was close enough to hear him chatting up the reporters, but he didn’t get a real interaction with me which we can all agree was a big loss for him that day!

 

 

 

So as we digest and regurgitate last weekend’s fight until all of my Facebook boxing experts move on to their next area of expertise – Texas flooding and destruction – let’s remember that if only I talked smack and possibly got closer to pop him in the chops right there on Fifth Avenue, I could have gotten my ass kicked last week in Vegas and scored a huge payday.