Greetings from the sports desk located somewhere below decks of the Good Pirate Ship RedState. Sammy the Shark and Kark the Kraken are pumped and primed to share the upcoming weekend’s sports events with all y’all …

Assuming you can find enough room on the couch, between those two and the fish cracker crumbs.

Anyway, a brief visit to memory lane. As I hope it is with all of you, I had a great father. Also, like unfortunately far too many of us, he’s no longer here. I await that great and glorious reunion in the promised world to come.

My Dad loved boxing. He and I used to watch fights together on television, everything from the local broadcasts to world championship bouts. We would discuss the fights afterward, and talk about upcoming contests. Of such things are father and son memories made.

I’ve been thinking about my Dad and missing him a lot lately. The upcoming holidays do that to you. I can only imagine what his thoughts would have been on the November 15 “fight” between social media personality Jake Paul and former heavyweight champion Mike Tyson.

Some years back, I heard a critic describe Madonna thusly: “She can’t sing, she can’t dance, and she can’t act. All she can do is be.” Paul is the 21st-century equivalent of same. He deserves credit for figuring out how to handsomely monetize doing little if anything, save being adored by the few via being unliked by the many; he has the savvy to milk a gimmick for all its worth. His foray into boxing has all the authenticity of the late Andy Kaufman’s excursion into wrestling, during which he parodied the exaggerated braggadocio of its internally promoted plot lines, while avoiding any genuine involvement with wrestling’s athletic slide, by entering the ring solely against overmatched women.

Turning back to Paul, his opponents thus far have either been over-the-hill MMA fighters with zero boxing skills or way over-the-hill boxers. Thus, enters the 58-year-old Tyson, who given his age and less than stellar health — the contest, originally scheduled for July 20, 2024, was postponed due to Tyson suffering a bleeding ulcer in May 2024 — has no business being anywhere near a ring save perhaps a donut.

The evening started with a contest that would have required industrial-strength upgrading to achieve mediocrity, as occasional boxer Neeraj Goyat took on social media tough guy and pseudoboxer Whindersson Nunes. Goyat, who from all appearances ferociously trained for the fight at the nearest McDonald’s Playground, mugged and clowned his way to a unanimous decision over Nunes, whose fighting skills were displayed solely by the total absence thereof. For his part, Goyat generously carried Nunes to the bout’s scheduled conclusion, after which he presumably pocketed a handsome paycheck. One suspects Goyat will use most of it to compensate relatives for having had to sit through the entire thing.

Thankfully, the next fight was an actual contest between two actual boxers. WBC welterweight champion Mario Barrios defended his title against veteran Abel Ramos, and the two reminded all in attendance plus those beginning to tune in on Netflix, or at least attempting to (more on that in a bit), what boxing is supposed to be. Barrios was the prohibitive favorite going in courtesy of his height advantage and perceived superior skill set, but Ramos clearly forgot to pay any attention to this.

The opening rounds were all Barrios, as he inflicted the most damage, knocking Ramos down near the second round’s conclusion. It looked to be a short and sweet night for the champion. It wasn’t, as a game Ramos refused to let up and kept coming at Barrios. Still, it gave all appearances of being Barrios’ night until Ramos scored a knockdown of Barrios in the sixth round. From then on, it was two men doing their absolute best to floor the other. Neither was able to do so, as Barrios and Ramos proved more than worthy of the test. The result was a tie, Barrios keeping his belt and Ramos earning respect as a true warrior.

The penultimate fight was a rematch between unified junior welterweight champion Katie Taylor and challenger Amanda Serrano. The two first met in Madison Square Garden in 2022, in a contest still talked about with awe in boxing circles, with Taylor coming out ahead in a ferocious battle. The rematch promised more of the same. It delivered.

Taylor, by her admission, started sluggishly and, at times, looked like she was barely hanging on against Serrano’s onslaught. Then, the tide would immediately turn in Taylor’s favor. Serrano was badly cut above the eye, doubtless to an unintentional head butt, and Taylor had a point taken away in the eighth round for leaning in too much with her head. Still, Taylor won the fight by unanimous decision. Talk is already circulating about a third fight, but at her age (38) and with nothing left to prove, the best advice Taylor can heed is to hang up the gloves and take her girl-next-door looks to Hollywood for star placement in action-adventure films.

And then came the embarrassment.

Tyson, who as I said has no business fighting anyone, squared off against Paul, who, were he to take on any current Top 10 heavyweight contender, would be canvas pizza before the bell starting the first round stopped ringing. The bout had all the action of a snail race in a salt mine. From the beginning, Paul clearly wanted no part of standing toe-to-toe with Tyson, who understandably tired quickly but was never genuinely touched by one of Paul’s few punches thrown before yet another retreat. Nevertheless, Paul won the decision while Tyson earned the respect of everyone from Gen X on back, by simply showing up in surprisingly good shape and remaining alive throughout the proceedings.

Earlier, I mentioned Netflix. This was the network’s first attempt at a live sporting event, and it miserably failed, with countless users kvetching on X and other social media platforms about the stream either freezing or disappearing altogether. Hopefully, whichever TRS-80 the network uses for its server will be upgraded before Christmas Day, when it has on tap the Kansas City Chiefs taking on the Pittsburgh Steelers. Lord have mercy on Netflix if Swifties can’t catch a glimpse of TayTay in her suite.

I suspect my Dad would have enjoyed the second and third fights, while having many things to say about the opener and closer, none of them complimentary. As to the participants, everyone survived and was doubtless substantially rewarded for showing up. I fervently hope for boxing’s sake they don’t do it again.