Boredom is a warm bath: The longer you stay in it, the less energy you have to get out.
Since I moved to Yorkton, I’ve struggled with overcoming a sense of boredom. Not that there isn’t a lot to do here (although I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t prefer an extra theatre screen or two), there’s just not much of a night life.
Correction: There is a night life; I don’t know anyone in it. As a recent Yorkton immigrant, I don’t exactly have a deep well of friends I can call on. Going to Holly’s nightclub with a crew? Delightful. Going to Holly’s by yourself? Depressing.
So when I got an invitation to watch the Mayweather-McGregor boxing match with a bunch of people this weekend, I snapped it up.
Now, I’m not much of a boxing fan. I understand the basics (man punches opponent, opponent punches back, repeat until they fall down or the bell rings), but beyond that I’m lost. I can’t talk strategy or history. I wouldn’t be able to identify a left hook from a left cross. I’m a boxing pleb.
Honestly, I’m more of a pro wrestling fan. Yeah, I prefer a fake sport over a real one. Sue me. In fact, the only other time I’ve seen Floyd Mayweather in a match was when he fought the Big Show at Wrestlemania 24.
I only have a bit more experience with Conor McGregor and the UFC. I’ve watched a fair amount of MMA shows, but again, I’m lost when it comes to the particulars. I don’t know what separates a good grapple from a mediocre one, and I doubt I ever will.
So I went to the Mayweather-McGregor fight with barely any knowledge of the fighters or their respective sports. But I was determined to break out of my boredom bath (remember the metaphor from the first paragraph?), so I headed to Tapps.
I sat down at the table, ordered a beer, and started talking with everyone. We talked about work, the fight, all that jazz. Finally the pay-per-view got underway.
I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes here, but I have to say: Boxing is boring. I’m sorry, please forgive me, but it’s simply not my cup of tea. It’s an endless reguritation of two men walking in a circle, occasionally flinging out their arms. There’s a certain kinetic thrill to it, but on the whole, I don’t dig it. I suppose I can’t appeciate the artistry. By the time the Mayweather-McGregor fight came to its anti-climatic close in the tenth round, I knew I wasn’t going to rush out for the next boxing match.
But that didn’t matter, not really. The boxing was set dressing, background noise. It was an excuse to meet people and talk. That’s what televisied sports events like these are best at: Bringing people together into one cramped space.
Beer and boxing is the best combination for stepping out of your comfort zone. It’s the universal language. So when you’re bored, see whos’ around, check your local listings, and grab a 40.
