Mayweather vs Mosley
Boxing Examiner | Michael Marley
If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride.
I've never seen a top fighter like Floyd Mayweather Jr. who is so "iffy."
He lives in a mental land of make believe, of let's pretend and here are some of his most precious suppositions, his most important "ifs."
(Setup: From Wikipedia, the lowdown on the Tin Man and his big problem:
His desire for a heart notably contrasts with the Scarecrow's desire for brains, reflecting a common debate between the relative importance of the mind and the emotions. This occasions philosophical debate between the two friends as to why their own choices are superior; neither convinces the other, and Dorothy, listening, is unable to decide which one is right. Symbolically, because they remain with Dorothy throughout her quest, she is provided with both and need not select.[1] The Tin Woodman states unequivocally that he has neither heart nor brain, but cares nothing for the loss of his brain. Towards the end of the novel, though, Glinda praises his brain as not quite that of the Scarecrow's.
The Wizard turns out to be a "humbug" and can only provide a placebo heart made of velvet and filled with sawdust. However, this is enough to please the Tin Woodman, who, with or without a heart, was all along the most tender and emotional of Dorothy's companions (just as the Scarecrow was the wisest and the Cowardly Lion the bravest).
If I dropped the random blood test nonsense, Manny Pacquiao would sign to fight me in a heartbeat and then I'd lose my "he refused the blood testing" crutch...
If I was white, I'd be a billionaire like Bill Gates, like Warren Buffett, certainly I've given just as much if not more to American society than they have, right?...
If I wanted to unload my psychic crutches, I'd toss away my contractual right to an immediate rematch with Sugar Shane Mosley after our May 1 recital. But, why should I since that's another excuse to avoid getting KTFO'd by that roughousing Pacman or, as my Daddy calls, that "whatever from over there." As a family, we're not big on geography, you dig? Once you get past Ohio, which borders our home state of Michigan, it gets dicey for us...
If I really, truly wanted to take that huge risk of giving Pacman 36 minutes in which to hit me, hurt me and possibly retire me while stripping of my precious "0," I would would be pounding the public table right now, saying that after I beat the old posterior of Mosley, I'll do worse to Robot Boy Pacquiao. No robot can beat a ring genius like me, right?...
If I was more popular, I'd be more popular, then maybe it would be doing the guest shots on the Jimmy Kimmel Show and appearing on Time magazine covers. As it is, I'm happy to be featured in the hip hop rags and websites, I'm in a comfort zone there, me and Rick Ross...
If I ever listened to my father, Floyd Senior, on any important topic, including boxing, then I could savvy why other people even give him an audience. But I don't, I won't and I can't fathom how he gets these public forums in front of seemingly intelligent people. My Pops doesn't listen to my uncle-trainer Roger and I don't listen to Roger, either. I'm my own Bossman, you know this...
If I was certain I'd beat Manny, I'd be doing Ali style rants, rambling on about how I'd go to GenSan to kick his butt. But how can I be certain in such an uncertain world?...
If I was really my own promoter, why would I hire and pay Golden Boy? I mean, did you ever see Top Rank go out and hire Don King or Lou DiBella to promote an Arum show? No, don't be ridiculous because Floyd Mayweather Promotions is like Philthy Rich Records, just some papers filed to give me some limited liability companies for tax purposes...
If I paid my taxes...did you have to remind me that April 15 is around the corner, my least favorite day on the calendar...
If I could shut Michael Marley up, I would. At least I should be able to get him to wear that old XFL jersey, the "He Hate Me" one...
Source: Examiner.com
