At an age when most spend their time puttering around retirement homes, expelling glorified tales of yore out the front exit and malodorous flatulence out the back, Larry Merchant inadvertently fired the final shot that saved boxing.
If Merchant pulled the trigger, Floyd Mayweather Jr. poured the ammo, tamped the powder and cocked the hammer. Undefeated with a 42-0 mark and seven titles across five weight classes, at once a powerful fighter and a skillfully self-aware entertainer, Mayweather has become boxing's greatest draw. His 6.9 million pay-per-view buys over seven fights are the most in the history of a sport that necessitates boisterous characters and exaggerated build-up for survival.
Suffice it to say, Mayweather's image has transcended boxing, beginning to flow mainstream through a season 5 appearance on "Dancing with the Stars" and high-profile endorsement deals. And at this moment, just days after his controversial TKO of Victor Ortiz at Las Vegas' MGM Grand, the attention has finally superseded Mayweather's out-of-ring troubles, like multiple-felony cases and defamation lawsuits derived from racist rants.
Which is exactly what boxing needs.
Until the legal troubles stop, Mayweather may never ascend into idyllic status, but that hardly matters. What matters is that millions tuned in to watch him get head-butted by Ortiz, promptly knock out his opponent with two brutal sucker-punches and then stare down Merchant, the 80-year-old commentator with the (likely artificial) testosterone necessary to claim that, were it 1961, he would have "kicked [Mayweather's] ass." So back to the senior citizen whose trigger-happy mouth dwarfed Mayweather's quick fists.
Had the fight concluded sans noise with, say, Mayweather cleanly knocking out Ortiz, then Merchant's actions would have become the story, and attempting a public ascent past a media-hog like Mayweather is hardly a noble goal.
But Merchant-Mayweather became the second main event, the icing that topped an already controversial cake. When the man who will soon need diapers confronted the man who could help him get there faster, it became another must-watch moment on a night that already concluded on the pinnacle of drama.
The "Is boxing finally knocked out?" discussion wages almost every time a new niche sport threatens to dethrone the ultimate niche sport. Citing the decline of small fight clubs, author Robert H. Boyle wrote in a 1965 "Sports Illustrated" article, "There are signs that 1965 could be the year when, despite the malodorous run-ins with policemen by leading heavyweight contenders, boxing begins to return to health."
Sound familiar? With the rise in popularity of mixed martial arts — another intense, combat niche sport that's taking away younger viewers from boxing's fan base — the Paul Revere-esque cries among boxing aficionados have resurfaced.
Floyd Mayweather, with his obnoxious flamboyance, his continuous cheap shots at Manny Pacquiao and his even cheaper cheap shots on Ortiz, has teamed up with Larry Merchant to form the unlikeliest of savior duos. Mayweather didn't break any rules, but it sure looked like a sucker punch. Merchant was well within his rights as an announcer, but he came off as petty and confrontational.
Maybe that's what boxing needs, though. Competitors toe the line between life and death each fight, so it's only fitting that their sport follow a similar model.
On the other hand, maybe boxing didn't even need to be saved. Maybe, like in years past, it will continue to last, buoyed by the supporters who long to see fists and teeth alike fly through the sweaty air.
Building a time machine to 1961 couldn't hurt.
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Alex Prewitt is a senior majoring in English and religion. He can be followed on Twitter at @Alex_Prewitt.
