The Fight Of The Century... wasn't

Is this the face of a champion? No, it is the face of a boxer
who got a serious wake-up call in the fourth round (shown
here) that his feisty opponent wasn't about to roll over.

It was billed as "The Fight Of The Century." By the end of 2015, it won't be remembered as the Fight Of The Year or hell, for that matter, The Biggest Fight In The Month Of May...

But we all had to see it. American Floyd Mayweather and Filipino Manny Pacquiao had never met in the ring. It was suggested by many that Pacquiao was the one opponent who could beat the undefeated Mayweather, who sat on a flawless and (almost) unprecedented 47-0 record going into the May 2 bout at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas.

So when Fight Night came, many of us rushed to find a place to watch it. Most of us were cheering for Manny, the underdog, and with good reason. Mayweather is a cocky, arrogant douchebag. He counts Justin Bieber among his entourage. (By the way, America, when Canada gave you Bieber and Nickleback, we had no idea you would retaliate with the Kardashians and Honey Boo Boo. Well played, you Yankee bastards, well played...) But it was my Beer Store co-worker and longtime friend Jay who would assist me with the fight-viewing venue.

Trust late-night talk show host Jimmy Kimmel to
inject some humour into the proceedings. After an
on-air appeal to be part of Pacquiao's entourage, the
boxer came into the ring with Kimmel in tow.
Except Kimmel decided that if he was going to get
the Justin Bieber role, well, he had to dress the part.

His buddy, Steve, who lives in the same Burlington condo complex, was willing to shell out the $100 for pay-per-view on the fight so we all descended on his pad, complete with a humongous Man Cave HD big-screen TV, each chipping in $10 to cover his costs. And of course, no big fight comes without a betting chalkboard, which Steve happily provided. It had both boxers at the top and the 12 rounds underneath. Toss in $5, pick your square - or in my case, squares. The eventual winner (Mayweather in a decision) saw the pot split by four of us. (Note to Halton Police: We used Monopoly money, Because we know gambling is illegal. And, uh, immoral.)

The first three rounds consisted mostly of the pair circling the ring, getting a feel for each other. So as boring as hell. But Round 4 was a different kettle of Balut (a Filipino delicacy involving fried duck embryo and... know what? I'll just stop there. Feeling queasy.) A rapid flurry of really good body shots by Pacquiao on the stunned and rattled champ in the 4th - the first real punches thrown - made it pretty clear who I was cheering for. In fact, I started yelling, "Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!" so loudly that I not only startled a few of the other guys, I also spooked the hell out of Ace, the dog. So who's Ace? Well, that's the big ol' mutt, owned by Jay's younger brother, Jonny, and his lovely girlfriend Alex, both of whom I've also worked with at the Beer Store.

It may not have been the Fight of the Century but it
definitely left the Carbon Footprint of the Century at
Vegas' McCarran Airport. These are the private jets
that flew in for the fight and actually, that's not even
all of them. The airport has to shut down an entire
runway just to park the rest of the private jets. Yikes!

Now granted, as I was an unfamiliar scent, Ace was already spooked by me, yapping at me from the get-go. Finally, Jonny picked him up chest-high and had Ace smell me. "It's the only way he'll stop barking," he noted. From that point, Ace approached me, though warily, and let me pat him on the head and licked my hand.

You see, that's a good dog. You wanna know what a bad dog is? The rest of this fight. Once Manny stepped up in the 4th, Floyd Jr invoked a curious but successful defence/offence strategy. He would get in close, land a few good shots, back into a corner, cover up and when Manny got close again, Floyd would... hug him? One of the most ferocious fighters ever became a big bloody Care Bear. That poor referee spent more time prying those hugs apart than chaperones do at a Catholic High School dance filled with hormonal teenagers.

In fact, that fight was such a dog that I'm sure the HBO-Sports (the pay-per-view network airing it) phonelines the next day will filled with callers claiming they accidentally butt-dialed their line, requesting for the fight. Or that their kids ordered it.

Frankly, the attention the Tecate Ring Girls got
from the guys in the room was more notable than
the fight. On the right is September 2012 Playboy
Playmate Alana Campos. How do I know that?
Well, that's the kind of thing I pay attention to.

But there were a few oddball things about this fight right from the start. For starters, they played the Mexican National Anthem for two fighters that are American and Filipino. Poor Alex. Half Mexican on her mother's side, we were all looking at her, asking why that was. Of course, she had no idea. The truth is Mexico is the only country in the world who got to watch the fight for free. It's some deal they get. Don't know why. That also explained why Tecate beer was plastered everywhere rather than, say, Bud Light.

And the celebrities... oh man. Everyone was there. Nice to know the rich have to suffer right alongside us when it comes to a turkey like this bout. Rapper Jay-Z was there with the always-gorgeous Beyonce and was probably thinking, "This fight? Yeah, it's one of those 99 problems I got." I didn't see Kanye West or his human booty troll doll but I have little doubt he declared Beyonce the winner of this fight.

And the money? When I posted a Facebook status cheering Manny on prior to the fight, noted Kiwi Beer Writer Neil simply replied, "$". Oh yeah, Floyd Jr picked up $180 million for this fight while Manny received a sweet $120 million. I wish I could get someone to pay me just $1 million for hugging them... rather than the usual restraining orders.

Props to Premier Kathleen Wynne, right, who's getting
out to the Ontario craft breweries and offering support.
Here she is, visiting Barrie's Flying Monkeys Brewery...

But back to the Bud Light for a moment. There I was in a roomful of 25-30 year olds and I figured for sure, well, this was a Bud Light crowd. Uhhh, no. When I opened the fridge to put my beer in, oh sure, I did see some Miller Genuine Draft but I also saw Mill Street Organic Lager and Collective Arts' Saints of Circumstance Blond Ale. An impressive array, to be sure and further proof that craft brewers are making serious inroads in this Province, starting with the younger beer drinkers. Both are top-notch Summer craft beers.

Which is, I guess, is my oh-so-smooth segue into Beer O'Clock at Donny's Bar and Grill. (A seamless transition, yes? *Bowing*) Well, to further quote Jay Z, "I got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one... and really good craft beer will fix 67 of those... especially my sucktastic hockey team, the Toronto Maple Leafs. The craft beer just dulls the pain a little."

An interesting trio from the liquor store. From
left, the Southern Tier Goat Boy Imperial
Weizzenbock, Howe Sound's Hopraiser West
Coast IPA and Rogue Farms' 7 Hop IPA.

Picked up some interesting beers at the LCBO recently, finally snagging a new Howe Sound Brewing (Squamish, BC) beer, their Hopraiser West Coast IPA and a Rogue Farms (Newport, Oregon) 7 Hop IPA. But the young liquor store worker there knows me all too well (I know - you're shocked) and said, "I've got something in the back for you." He returned with a Southern Tier (Lakewood, New York) Goat Boy Imperial Weizzenbock. That turned out to be a good call because much to this IPA fanatic's surprise, it was the best of the trio. Hands down. (No, seriously, keep your hands flat on the table if my Goat Boy is there.) Because it's a wheat bock, you instantly get that banana on the nose but on the tongue, all the smoky chocolate that a 7.5% imperial bock has to offer. Damn tasty. The 7 Hop IPA was a curious beer, mostly because I don't recognize the seven hops at all. Genetically created at the farm, the hops were Liberty, Newport, Revolution, Rebel, Independent, Freedom and Alluvial. Say again now? My favourite beer technician, Kylie at Rib Eye Jack's Ale House felt the same as me - it was okay but nothing special. Truthfully, she didn't even like it. Come to think of it, neither did Beer Bro Glenn. I liked it - but only as a friend. At 8% and 90 IBUs (international bitterness units), it was, frankly not all that bitter. It lit up the scoreboard at RateBeer with a 98 but I wasn't feeling that high mark. At all. Decent but Rogue makes far better IPAs with better-known hops...

I finally got a chance to try some beers
from Grand River Brewing located in
Cambridge when their Curmudgeon IPA
and Dog Stalker Bock showed up at the
liquor store recently. Not too shabby...

I had placed high hopes in the Hopraiser West Coast IPA, mostly on the strength of the brewery's outstanding King Heffy Imperial Hefeweizen, the single best Canadian wheat I have ever had. So, yeah, a little let down with the Hopraiser, which, to be honest, is definitely undervalued with a 63 on RateBeer (it's better than that) but this 6% offering is not what you'd call a Hop Bomb. Some grapefruit on the nose, lightly peppery on the tongue, it's a touch on the light side, though certainly not horrible. Beer Bro Stevil St Evil, a long-time west coaster, noted it fared far better on Beer Advocate with an 86, which I would suggest is a fair score. Good but not outstanding. The bar to which I hold IPAs is pretty damn high - like supersonic skydiver Felix Baumgartner plummeting to the Earth from 24.5 miles (40 kilometres) up high. That high. That said, these guys also have an Imperial IPA called Total Eclipse of the Hop that I'm dying to get my sweaty, beer-soaked paws on. Howe Sound, if you're listening, any Burlington LCBO will do. Oh and could you also ship some of your Belgian Strong Ale called La Brew Ha Ha! Let's face it, I pretty much have to try that. It's like a law... or at least what passes for a law in my twisted little world.

Some beers from tiny Grand River Brewing in Cambridge finally showed up in a local liquor store so I grabbed both - the Curmudgeon IPA and Dog Stalker Bock. A couple more of their brews and I will give you their full, unabridged brewery history. I may even gush a little. (Wait? Did I just call out Grand River there? Oh yes, I most certainly did. The gauntlet has been laid at your Cambridge doorstep, boys.)

What's in this mystery can that
Nickel Brook's Tony Cox slipped
to me? You'll find out next time!

Now before this looks like it's getting way too confrontational, lemme say this. Cambridge is, like, a half hour away from me so I will be visiting the brewery this Summer, mostly to try their Russian Gun Imperial Stout on tap. Why? On the strength of these two beers. The Curmudgeon is a solid IPA. At 6.5% and 70 IBUs, it won't knock over a cow (there's still farms in Cambridge, right?) but it's like they started with the malt base of a British IPA and then decided at the last minute to add some hops for a West Coast IPA kick. I quite liked it. The hops are not in-your-face and the finish is dry but definitely, a different sort of IPA. But their Dog Stalker? Unfiltered, hazy, a couple of little weird clouds in there and damn tasty. This 6% bock was a strong seasonal! Great nose, light caramel on the tongue, I really thought this was a  really strong contender.

Okay, next time. I just saw The Avengers: Age of Ultron. How was it? If this doesn't win every single Academy Award next Spring, I'm sorry but the fix is in because the Academy system is corrupt and they should all burn. But more importantly, what beers would the Avengers drink? What's in the mystery can Tony Cox from Nickel Brook slipped me a month ago? I have a one-litre (34 ounces) howler of it in my fridge. And what did co-worker Marie bring me from Walkerville's Brewery after her last gambling adventure? But guys and dolls, that's it, that's all and I am outta here! Until next time, I remain, as always...