That became obvious when Fox TV unveiled plans for a March 13 “Battle of the Bad Girls” between skating pariah Tonya Harding and former Buttafuco gal pal Amy Fisher. The two will actually box three rounds and, despite a referee’s presence, one suspects this will be a no-holds-barred affair. Hard for even a savvy sports guy like me to predict this outcome. I know Tonya, and she’s not only a former champion athlete, but she spits nails. She’d be a prohibitive favorite if we didn’t suspect that Amy learned a dirty trick or two during her prison stint. Hard to imagine that, at the very least, blood won’t be spilled.
But the truth is the outcome doesn’t matter at all. It’s the remarkably high concept that’s so appealing. Rather than watch Monica Lewinsky dissemble for the umpteenth time, wouldn’t you rather see her try to disassemble Linda Tripp with a right-left combination. And why stop there? Instead of absurd semantic debates over the meaning of the word “is,” wouldn’t it be great to have our former president and Ken Starr settle their blood feud with some real spillage in the ring? Vince McMahon, are you listening? This is what you hoped the XFL would be.
Now most folks probably assume that, with this being a Fox initiative, it is aimed at the youth market that the network assiduously courts. But I view this as a throwback notion, aimed at my baby-boomer generation. We’re the folks who can still recall a time when responsible adults would actually encourage feuding rivals or bitter enemies with a “Why don’t you just take this outside?” That seemed a relatively innocuous solution in the days before one of the fighters was likely to pull a knife just before the other’s friends let loose with automatic-weapon fire from a nearby perch.
Long before Judge Judy and others of her high-minded ilk, gloves on was the honorable way to settle all such matters. I went to a summer camp where every disputatious relationship was resolved in this fashion. The combatants were ushered to a spot adjacent to the flagpole, thus suggesting a certain patriotic cast to the event. They donned gloves and then slugged it out for a couple rounds. The worst injury anyone ever suffered was a bloody nose and the enduring humiliation that would scar him for the remainder of his life. (I was 0-and-3 and remember every second of every round.) But never mind that. It was amusing for all the onlookers.
The truth is that real boxing has lost all its luster in our society. We don’t want to see Roy Jones or Felix Trinidad or Paulie Ayala, or any of the boxing worthies who still ply that craft with skill and nobility. The only fighter we’re willing to pay to see is Mike Tyson, a long-past-it madman who will bite, scratch, eat your children or God knows what in the ring (and out of it). It’s that “God knows what” prospect that entices us into watching him–and Tonya and Amy as well. I mean I won’t settle for just hair-pulling. I want eye-gouging, low blows and four-letter words.
As an entertainment staple, this is potentially far more than just the high concept I initially labeled it. It has the potential to be a ratings blockbuster for the ages, especially if the stakes are raised high enough. How about the president of the Recording Industry of America versus Shawn Fanning, the Napster guy, to settle the piracy issue once and for all? Russell Crowe versus Denzel Washington for the Oscar. And an Ariel Sharon-Yasir Arafat brawl to settle peace terms in the Middle East.
This is the kind of simplification our society desperately needs. Who can comprehend all the complexities and nuances of centuries of nationalistic and religious rivalries? Think how much devastation the world can be spared if all its grievances are settled on a weekly basis on Fox TV. (Runner-up will get a one-week cruise on the SS Princess to …) So Osama, Osama wherever you are, come out and fight like a man. The leader of the free world is waiting. Arnold Schwarzenegger says meet him next to the flagpole.
