It’s no shame to confess that I chose to joining issues with the mainstream, after all, over the frenzy and hoopla generated by the speculated ring encounter between Manny Pacquiao and Floyd Mayweather for all the marbles. It’s been so tempting.

BEING too good, in itself, can constitute serious danger. Especially when there’s a marked shortfall in the member of available candidates contending for the prize.

Yours Truly was conspicuously absent from duty last week for all the wrong reasons, I suppose. If you must know.

A Boxer’s career is often likened to the course of a river still in its formative stage when it bows to the dictates of commonsense.

NEARLY a week has elapsed since the supposedly biggest global sporting event of the week ending Saturday, March 19, 2011 has stood seemingly defenseless in the face of the criticism it has generated.

Everything about him was modestly tailored. He was never given to flamboyance all through his private and social life, and – to observing folks who were privileged to keep him company – he was quite sensitive to the media glow that others would gladly pay to frolic in.

AND so, Evander Holyfield continues the strenuous march in his avowed mission to turn back the hand of the clock. It is a costly march for which every step taken forward is rewarded with two steps backwards for a man whose acknowledged warrior fighting instincts are not matched by any level of common sense.

It’s all the better for any dedicated writer not to try and explain to the readers how he’s unable to fire himself up for a subject that challenges the credibility of a sport he defends.

Fortuitously and unfortuitously, developments in the boxing establishment compel some of us to subject ourselves to deep, serious interrogation, as to the core essence of the sport in today’s world.

TEN years is an awfully long time for any man to plunge neck-deep into the murky waters of professional boxing and remain therein, and by which period preliminary layers of the dreaded scar tissues that is the boxers traditional curse have become considerably manifest.

From the deeps of the quagmire that is the endangered professional boxing in Nigeria beckons the lone surviving hope, in the form of Olusegun Ajose who is compelled to sacrifice his own Christmas and New Year pleasures as he pursues what looks to be a career defining assignment early in the new year.

Amateur Boxing in Nigeria has gone under chiefly because the house leadership is a far cry from the one of 18 years ago, under which was effectively interpreted the full meaning of Control, components of which includes monitoring, organization and superv-ision

The week ending Saturday, November 6, 2010 was quite revealing for amateur boxing in Nigeria. It just about marked the first day, first month and first year ever, that the sport decided to take matters into its own hands.

Sometimes, it’s hard to accept the obvious, especially when it is expressed in such a blunt manner as to inflict sadness and pain on the innocent victim.

The most striking feature I gathered from Sani Ndanusa’s reported reflections at the reception last week of Team Nigeria from the Commonwealth Games in New Delhi was, perhaps, the unfortunate drug incident that marred our glittery outing and which denied us the track gold medal taken by a female sprinter.