Er, fight the good fight?

Dereck Chisoara certainly knows how to get the weekend started.  As if going loco down against the Klitschkos wasn’t bad enough, he indulges in melee madness with David Haye.  Specifically of the Chisoara and Haye extra-curricular bout, we’ve now seen it all: there was the Rumble in the Jungle, then the Thrilla in Manila, top billing currently is the Lunatics in Munich.  In the future, Chisoara will lucky to get a fight night in Timisoara - that western Romanian town stood up to the madness of Ceaucescu; it could easily handle a jumped-up jack-in-the box like Chisoara.

His stunts against first Vitali, then Wladimir Klitschko defy sense.  People taught about pugilistic etiquette and Chisoara has apologised for all aspects of his stay in Germany, pre, during and post match, bringing into disrepute a sport of ‘controlled aggression’.  Blah, blah.  I’ve never been a fan of boxing but Chisoara’s action could count as a mobile public art installation of the absurd and as such it is richly ridiculous – the anarchy stripping away the public image and holding it up to mockery.  I can’t help it, a smile etches its way onto my face effortlessly.

In the macho tenor of the trash-talking, Chisoara slaps like a fairy, spits like a dweeb.  Muhammad Ali claimed to be ‘The Greatest’ and used poetry.  Chisoara is scrapping for the title of the worst and uses thuggery.  The British fighter actually attempted an abortive head-butt on Vitali Klitschko before realising their heads were too close together.  How can I get this Ukranian champion to back off so I can really lay into him – I know, I’ll slap him, leaving him stunned and ripe for a central hook of my forehead. 

Expectorating into the face of Vitali’s brother, Wladimir, while pacing the ring really was beyond the pale.  Spitting on someone is particularly offensive but to do it into their face – there can be no greater physical insult.  It is an act of intentional contamination directed against the primary receptacle of the body’s senses.  It speaks of a no-good punk who knows he’ll never be the best so has to stand out for being disgraceful.  If he was in Enfield, he’d have an on-the-spot fine.  Okay, so Chisoara took a swig of water and diluted his projectile, yet he also increased his capacity.  I think Wladimir would have perfectly justified to leap over the ropes and rip Chisoara’s throat out.  Frank Warren, the promoter, would probably say upon his client’s gruesome end that he can’t defend the actions but he can explain them.

After becoming the Wasted of the Danube Basin in the wake of Vitali’s victory, indeed the Scalp of the Alps, Chisoara sought the title of the Gregarious of Bavaria, yet it became hairier when Hayes gatecrashed his conference, setting in motion the incident that was the Larier of Bavaria.  Going ballistic at Hayes’ impertinence and seeking a ruckus, combined with the Klitschko controversies, suggests serious mental health issues.  Hayes is no innocent, trying to use someone’s else post-match interview to talk up pitting his wits against Vitali.  Now, not only has that lucrative link-up disappeared forever, he won’t get another invitation from The One Show to sugar-coat his reputation –hard to know of which one he is more devastated.  With both entourages getting involved and Hayes allegedly resorting to swinging a camera tripod, this carnival of carnage was brilliantly brainless.  This lary behaviour ended with Hayes scuttling back to the UK, because Chisoara said he would variously ‘shoot’ and ‘burn’ his latest nemesis.  Whatever. Hardly up there with Mike Tyson threatening to eat Lennox Lewis’s (admittedly non-existent) babies.  Commentators are in a hue and cry over the disgrace but this was panto at its best.