It's a fun idea, a novelty act. Put it in the same category of my continual pushing for a Klitschko vs. Klitschko bout.
That's right, put it under the heading of cocktail conversation, yes, but an actual event, no.
Unless Coach Freddie Roach, who can do many wondrous and unusual things, can split himself in halfd like an atom, it will never transpire.
I speak of newly crowned Roach pupil Amir Khan, UK's new boxing standard bearer, fighting Manny Pacquiao, Roach's summa cum laude student
They're both junior welterweights but my sometimes foggy crystal ball--I bought it cheap, slighly used from the also slightly used psychic Madame Auring--looks clear on this question.
i ask the glass globe which foretells the fistic future quite simply, will Megamanny ever do more than spar with Kid Khan?
Nary a milisecond later, faster than even Bernie Vee can post a pedantic comment under one of my examples of timeless literature here, comes back the reply in captal letters.
The message is so direct and unvarnied that even Professor Dumbledore could comprehend it.
FORGET ABOUT IT, FORGET ABOUT IT.
So I will and you shall but it';s harmless for chit chit on a slow Saturday night.
Roach could pull an Angelo Dundee and swtich corners like the great trainer did when Jimmy Ellis fought Muhammad Ali in the Astrodome. This was as close to an intramural fight as you could get and i was there in Houston taking a much needed break from my tough courses at the University of Nevada, Reno.
Dundee was Ellis' manager so he worked Jimmy's corner that night. Ali took no offense. It was sort of like a WWE scripted event except the fight was real. Ellis and Ali had already fought three times in the amateurs back in Louisville and had sparred hundreds of rounds together.
One gray day in Toronto, before the first George Chuvalo bout, I saw Ellis floor Muhammad with a left hook. Ali was so upset, he got up and whaled on Ellis. Dundee screamed, "Time!" and Ali ignored him, still whaling away on his sparmate and friend.
Ali handled the smaller Ellis easily. And Dundee took off his Jimmy Ellis sweater and put his Ali vest back on.
The fight was not memorable. But two things about the promotion were.
One, they had a disco fashion show at the Astroworld Motel which drew every pimp and hooker within 1,000 miles.
Second, and perhaps more striking, was that I saw Bert Sugar with no hat. Having no hat, I saw that he had no hair.
I snapped a picture of Sugar's dome. I am sure it would go for big bucks on Ebay if I could find it.
Khan versus Pacman will forever remain what it is, a fantasy fight.
Maybe I can find the Sugar sans chapeau pic and show it to Madame Auring.
Now that could be a fasinating reading.