PITTSBURGH (93-7 THE FAN) — Take my cash.
Here you go. Take it. I need to offer it to you.
Simply take it, please.
What's the number I call? Do I need to go to the Internet some place? Or, then again, do I simply hit a catch on my remote control? Do I have to mail a check some place? How would we do this exchange?
Take it. Take my $100.
I'm sold as sold can be on the Aug. 26 fight between UFC whiz Conor McGregor and Floyd Mayweather, the preeminent pound-for-pound pugilist on the planet.
What's more, guess what? I don't give it a second thought if the match — set for T-Mobile Arena in Las Vegas — winds up being an aggregate failure from an opposition point of view. I couldn't care less at all if McGregor gets put on his Irish wallet 30 seconds into this thing and never gets up.
I couldn't care less if Mayweather toys with him and never gives McGregor a chance to arrive a punch or if McGregor loses his psyche and winds up accomplishing something absolutely nuts to get precluded.
I'm in. I'm in 1,000,000 percent.
Know why? Conor McGregor has sold me on this card. He is simply the reason I will isolate from $100 and accomplish something I have never done — arrange a compensation for every view occasion on my link framework.
Man, I don't know whether I have foreseen a wearing occasion like this in for a short time. Also, frankly, I'm not into UFC at all and have developed super tired of boxing to where I have most likely watched three battles over the most recent 10 years.
This person's dramatic skill and the venturesome way he holds himself (directly down to his favor suit with interjections remaining in for the pinstripes) has made them purchase pedal to the metal into this carnival. I can't get enough of it.
Tuesday, at the first of a four-stop limited time visit in Los Angeles, McGregor bounced on the affront prepare and let it roll completely open down the tracks.
"He is f— – d," McGregor said of Mayweather. "There is no other route about it. His little legs, his little center, his little head. I'm going to thump him out inside four rounds, stamp my words."
At the point when Mayweather attempted to talk, McGregor wouldn't yield and at one point McGregor's amplifier should have been killed to keep some sort of structure to the occasion. Regardless, the Irishman simply shouted.
It was astonishing, it was great, it was such a damn display.
It was the stuff of Muhammad Ali. It was the stuff that a person like Don King could just dream about while advancing a battle.
Man, I adore America for the way that we can make a wonder out of something like this.
There is a shot in the greater part of this — a great possibility, some say — that the development will be vastly improved than the battle. That the traverse of time amongst now and Aug. 26 will be substantially more engaging than when these two warriors enter that squared hover in the sparkling new field tucked simply off the Las Vegas Strip.
Learn to expect the unexpected. I couldn't care less. I couldn't care less by any means. I'm sold. On every last bit of it. Snare, line and sinker. Every last bit of it.
Conor McGregor and his reckless, loudmouthed and certain ways have done it for me. I don't realize what sort of boxer he will be, yet he is one hellfire of artist.