Someone tells me when the heavy fist has turned on a Saturday night scrap with judges. Brandon mells vs Skylar Lacy was not a fight – I was tergaratta, such a grader, even the arbit is probably walking to walk.
We start with moore (17-1), the man who won technically. I say “won,” But we go royal, rasked, burned, and shouted out of the ring as having choked by an exchange. The couple is that looked like a fight for, but nope, all of them have been a cuddle averageddhjuasming session with a man who had clearly competition.
And then we have lake (8-1-2). Oh glass. A man so determined to make the struggling that you woke up three breach by holding such separate – that, honestly, is impressive. Three. You have to try to be so bad in the box. Perhaps he thought the Ref was just giving friendly notices. Maybe he thought it was a better one of five. Anyway he has just kept to catch as a lost mpa fighter.
And just when you thought couldn’t get worse, he fulfill, if chirsps tires on top, and launches through the burdension of the announcement. I mean, mate, if you wanted out of the ring, just wine to have a punch-up in the park as normal people.
The Ref, bless her patience, start counting. Get to 15 before you understand the moore is not hanging because the laundry is still on top of him as a collapse closets. So with the most better options, makes the healthy man would like to disqualify lacy to be an absolute muppet.
Moore wins, if you want to call that. Schools to lose. The dignity of the sport packed their bags and left the building the second Lacy has transformed to a human battle ram.
So what have we Rickon? The next time, we miss you fold chairs and call what’s?
