The "Sweet" Science

The “Sweet” Science

That circus act in a ring, aka the Saturday night fight between boxer Floyd Mayweather and mixed-martial arts’ fighter Conor McGregor, was delayed due to difficulties with pay-per-view.  P.T. Barnum never would’ve left his suckers waiting.  For those who care, the black man stopped the white man, the white man lasted into the tenth round, and both men made an obscene amount of money.  As to what it all means, who cares?

My father took me to a White Sox game, maybe 1965 or ’66.  The game ended a little after ten, and we were walking out of the park when he pointed out a newspaper vendor hawking a very late—or early—edition of the Chicago American.  “He used to be a good fighter,” said my dad, pointing to a middle-aged African-American the imprint of whose life showed all across his face.  I was left to wonder what had brought him to selling newspapers outside a ballpark on a weeknight.

Maybe twenty years later, I found myself in a sports’ memorabilia shop on Kedzie Avenue just south of 63^rd Street; it was run by a father and son.  The older man pointed out a foot-tall cardboard cutout of him in all his boxing glory.  “I forget things sometimes,” he informed me, standing way too close to someone who was a stranger.  Another minute or so in the place, and I could’ve been on the receiving end of a nine-count.

Last week, the Tribune ran a story on Gerald McClellan, a former middleweight champion from Freeport, Illinois.  McClellan suffered permanent brain damage from his 1995 fight with Nigel Benn.  He’s also blind and mostly deaf, living on a mix of disability support and charity.  His sister is his primary caregiver.

Of course, this won’t be Floyd Mayweather and Conor McGregor’s future, and I doubt either of them will be visiting McClellan anytime soon.