From Vice Sports
Photo by me
It’s still balmy at 6:30pm – swimming weather – as I’m walking down King William Road towards Adelaide Oval to watch a self-described “white fella with Irish roots” and an Aboriginal Bundjalung man try to knock the shit out of each other.
It’s clearly not black jeans weather and I’m also suffering after one of the most poorly executed burritos I’ve ever had from nearby Hindley Street.
Dripping salsa fingers aside, it’s hard not to get swept up with this absolute corker of an evening and the anticipation for what’s been billed – by salacious newspapers at least – “the biggest showdown in Australian boxing history”.
The night’s even more historic because 700 clicks away, crowds are filling into Princes Park, Victoria, to watch the first ever women’s AFL match. It does lead me to question what I’m doing here, waiting to watch two 40+ year-olds well past their primes bash each other and line their pockets to sail off into retirement, instead of watching the footy on TV. Why does this fight matter? What does it all mean?