Fight of the Centur ... zzzzzz

 Well, now. If that wasn't exactly what the Blob told you it would be a couple of days ago:

... I think it's more likely they'll trade a few non-nuclear punches until (Mike) Tyson's 58-year-old legs go away, and then (Jake) Paul will hit him and Tyson will go down. Or they'll just wallow around to an ultimately unsatisfying end.

Remember that?

Yeah, that was me. So as much as I loathe saying "I told ya so" (an obvious lie), I told ya so.

Jake Paul jabbed.  Tyson threw a few punches that looked like ... well, the kind of punches a 58-year-old man would throw. And after three rounds his 58-year-old legs went away  and they wallowed around for five more unsatisfying two-minute rounds until Paul, 31 years Tyson's junior, was declared the winner by an easy unanimous decision.

If you watched this made-for-TV show on Netflix and came away feeling you'd been had, you can't say I didn't warn you. 

This was never going to be anything but another Netflix special, like "Formula 1: Drive to Survive" except waaaay slower. Only geezer/codgers like me thought it would be anything else, mainly because we've all too many action films in which 72-year-old Liam Neeson kicks the crap out of the bad guys. 

Alas, that only happens in the movies.

In real life, it was convenient Paul and Tyson didn't climb in the ring until almost 11 p.m., because what happened after that was the perfect bedtime story. Sent all us suckers who watched it right off to dreamland. You'd have thought Netflix could have at least thrown in a couple of dance numbers to liven things up, but, nah.

Dancing With The Scars this was not. Neither was it the Fight of the Century, unless it was the 11th century and everyone in it was long dead.

Fight of the Century?

More like Fight of the Centur ... zzzzzz. Hope you slept tight.