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By Lyle Fitzsimmons - Hello, my name is Lyle and I have a confession to make.
I really dig Adrien Broner. And I just can’t seem to stop.
Sure, I already know prolonged exposure to the “The Problem” might not be good for me.
His chatter is a little bit annoying. The hair thing is kinda silly. And the grill is just plain ugly.
But even with all that, I can’t help but dial my local cable provider every time he’s scheduled, because I find myself riveted if the foe is an overmatched Mexican, an outgunned Englishman, or, as was the case this past Saturday night in Brooklyn, a meld of Woody Woodpecker and Hector Camacho.
To me, his all-around game is just that good.
The offense is violently precise. The defense is yawningly efficient. He makes a 12-pound jump from the lightweight elite to the welterweight top shelf look as easy as flossing between meals.
And if a needle-moving personality is what you crave… well, he’s got that thing going, too.
But to be honest, it’s that part of the total package that I wish he’d do some work on.
It’s not that I don’t love the villainous types.
I cheered for the Four Horsemen as a kid wrestling fan because Ric Flair was a genius with the mic. I rooted for the Dallas Cowboys at the height of their ’90s arrogance because Emmitt Smith had a mischievous glint. And I reveled in the black-hatted mastery of Floyd Mayweather Jr. long before he kissed and made up with everyone’s favorite former HBO crank-puss. [Click Here To Read More]
I really dig Adrien Broner. And I just can’t seem to stop.
Sure, I already know prolonged exposure to the “The Problem” might not be good for me.
His chatter is a little bit annoying. The hair thing is kinda silly. And the grill is just plain ugly.
But even with all that, I can’t help but dial my local cable provider every time he’s scheduled, because I find myself riveted if the foe is an overmatched Mexican, an outgunned Englishman, or, as was the case this past Saturday night in Brooklyn, a meld of Woody Woodpecker and Hector Camacho.
To me, his all-around game is just that good.
The offense is violently precise. The defense is yawningly efficient. He makes a 12-pound jump from the lightweight elite to the welterweight top shelf look as easy as flossing between meals.
And if a needle-moving personality is what you crave… well, he’s got that thing going, too.
But to be honest, it’s that part of the total package that I wish he’d do some work on.
It’s not that I don’t love the villainous types.
I cheered for the Four Horsemen as a kid wrestling fan because Ric Flair was a genius with the mic. I rooted for the Dallas Cowboys at the height of their ’90s arrogance because Emmitt Smith had a mischievous glint. And I reveled in the black-hatted mastery of Floyd Mayweather Jr. long before he kissed and made up with everyone’s favorite former HBO crank-puss. [Click Here To Read More]
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