Las Vegas is the worst place I have ever been. It might turn out to be the worst place I have ever been to in my life, but as my life isn’t over yet, I can’t make that call. If I have to linger in Purgatory before said death, that might just knock Vegas off the top spot. But only just.
I’ve been thinking about it in the light of Canelo Álvarez’s win over Callum Smith in yesterday’s boxing match – the 30-year old’s 54th win in an incredible 15-year career.
I was in Vegas to see Mayweather vs. Mosley but went to the MGM Grand Garden Arena early to catch some of the earlier fights and was lucky to see the brilliant undercard who was Álvarez. He defeated José Cotto to retain his WBC-NABF title, and it was spectacular – much more so than the main attraction. Much as I admire Mayweather’s skill, I have more fun picking my nose than watching his clinical delivery.
Álvarez was something else. I was just eight rows from the ring – the kind of seat where you need an umbrella to protect yourself from the flying sweat. Vibrant, powerful, dynamic in style, you could be in no doubt that you were in presence of greatness. Last night’s easy win over the WBA 168-pound champion was yet another notch on his belt (well, the whole damn belt, really – two, in fact, to add to a previous one).
People are often surprised when I express my love of boxing. It began at an early age, when my brother and I were brought from our beds to watch Muhammad Ali (or Cassius Clay, as he was then) – but only if we went to bed early and had some sleep first.
The occasion was therefore always associated, in my mind, with a sense of rule-breaking, the excitement of TV (which was still a luxury, back in the day), and sharing something grown-up – with the grown-ups.
Ali was also a big influencer of my thinking. I was entranced by his declarations of greatness, his sublime confidence, the physical spectacle of him, which was truly beautiful to watch.
I’ve done a small amount of boxing training in my time and it is exhilarating – and exhausting. Boxing is also the only thing that would summon me back to Vegas. They put it in the desert for a reason.