Fight of no century

 So the interwhatsis tells me Ozzie Guillen wants to fight a sportswriter, and I mention this only because I'm a retired sportswriter and the thought of me climbing in the ring with a retired professional athlete makes me laugh from the belly. Also wince a bit.

I mean, it's not like it's news, Ozzie wanting to fight someone. Ozzie always wants to fight someone. Ozzie has spent his entire career, both the playing and managing segments, with his metaphoric fists up. 

And, yes, a lot of times that's happened with members of the fourth estate.

So no surprise he's proposing a fight for charity with New York Post columnist Jon Heyman, who wrote that Guillen's repeated bashing of White Sox manager Tony LaRussa is part of a campaign to supplant LaRussa as the Sox skipper. That infuriated Guillen, whose response was classically Guillen-esque: Let's put the gloves on and settle this like men.

"I am not perfect, but tired you hiding behind you a writer," he tweeted.

Let me be the first to say here I have never tried to hide behind me a writer. 

My writer-ness isn't good enough for me to do that, for one thing. Also, pronouns, gerunds and independent clauses are not at all effective in stopping a left hook -- or so I assume, because no one's ever thrown a left hook at me because of something I wrote.

Lots of descriptive adjectives, sure. A few appearances by "dumb bastard," as I recall. But no one's ever walked up to me on the street and decked me while screaming "How dare you not really insinuate but sort of insinuate that Lance Armstrong is a doper!"

People did scream that years ago, by the way, at least via email and letter. But that's another Blob post for another day.

In any event, me vs. anyone in the ring would be a spectacle only for the kind of people who slow down to ogle car crashes. I float like a tree stump and sting like a gnat, first of all. Also I'm as blind as a Washington politician without my glasses.

I guess I could wear them into the ring, though. And then tell my opponent, "You wouldn't hit a guy with glasses, would you?"

After which he would hit me, and that would be that.

Fight of the century?

Oh, sure. Fight of the ninth century, maybe, between the mortal remains of Norbert the Vital and Ethelwaine the Inept.

Tickets available nowhere.