2024 was the year alternative media supplanted the mainstream. From Elon Musk transforming X into a disruptive political force to Joe Rogan’s podcast generating exponential more views than “Saturday Night Live,” this was the year when alternative media finally replaced the mainstream as the go-to vehicle for disseminating messages.
It represented a seismic shift in viewers’ consumption habits.
Last night, alternative media was ready to twist the knife in its mainstream brethren one more time: Netflix was airing the Jake Paul versus Mike Tyson dream (?) fight live on its streaming platform. And if they succeeded with a flawless broadcast, it truly could’ve been a deathblow to the alphabet networks: Live sports is really the only thing they have left.
Movies, TV series, documentaries, and comedy have already migrated to streaming. And with live sports — including the NFL — hopping aboard the streaming train, the mainstream media was looking like fat, bloated dinosaurs about to be blasted by an asteroid.
But something unexpected happened last night: Netflix crashed! The streaming feed was constantly cutting in an out; the image went from crystal clear HDTV to blurry, blocky, and freezing; the entire viewing experience was miserable.
And look, if you’re watching “Seinfeld” reruns on Netflix and the feed is disrupted, it’s easy to restart it. Same goes for sports like baseball or football, where the innings and plays follow a sequential order. But it’s especially awful for boxing, because it’s a sport where the fight can end at any moment.
In fact, its sudden explosion of violence, mayhem, and conquest is a major part of its appeal. As longtime HBO boxing commentator Larry Merchant used to say, “Boxing is the theater of the unexpected.”
(Even more so for a Mike Tyson fight, where he’s always one punch — or one bite! — away from victory or defeat.)
Had Netflix delivered a flawless performance, it would’ve been the final death knell to traditional media. It would’ve proven that the streaming giants have now left the lumbering media T. rexes in meteorite dust. They’re even better at sports broadcasts now! Hey, at this point, why not let Netflix air the Super Bowl, World Series, or anything else?
Can’t do it after last night. Especially with the popularization and/or the proliferation of digital sports gambling: a glitchy, unwatchable Netflix Super Bowl would outrage fans, gamblers, and passive viewers — plus, it would cost Netflix a flippin’ fortune, because they’d need to refund all the unwatchable Super Bowl commercials.
There’s no excuse for this debacle: Shame on Netflix for not knowing how many subscribers they have! It was an embarrassing (and costly) screw-up.
But it’s likely to be a mere bump in the road: X also glitched when Elon Musk interviewed Ron DeSantis and Donald Trump. Sure, it was a setback, but not an unsurmountable setback. Netflix and X are still ascending media.
Alas, of all the murky, glitchy images we could watch, it was clear that Mike Tyson was hopelessly beyond his depth against his 27-year-old opponent, Jake Paul.
In the 1980s, Iron Mike was truly magnificent. He was the indestructible, unconquerable “Baddest Man on the Planet.” In his squeaky, high-pitched voice, he used to explain to reporters how he’d try to knock opponents’ noses into their brains.
But that was a long time ago.
The first round was a little bit of a Tyson throwback: if you squinted your eyes, it kinda-sorta looked like the Iron Mike of old! After all, a boxer’s power is his last attribute to go — and Tyson always had plenty of power. All it takes is one clean shot!
…Right?!
Almost exactly 30 years ago (November 5, 1994), George Foreman regained the heavyweight title at age 45, KO’ing the much-younger champion in the tenth round. But before Big George scored that knockout, he was losing every round to Michael Moorer.
At least it looked that way. But with the benefit of hindsight, we now know it was George’s strategy: As an older, craftier fighter, he was trying to lull his faster, quicker opponent into a false sense of security.
It was no secret that the right hand was Foreman's only chance.
But almost until the end Foreman refused to use it. When he was warming up in the dressing room, he did not practice big looping rights as he usually does but instead did brisk one-twos. And for most of the fight Foreman delivered soft jabs. "It was a setup," he said afterward. [Teddy] Atlas [Moorer's trainer] suspected as much and told Moorer to move to his right, to keep away from some big right hand out of nowhere. "It was effective in the gym," said Moorer later. "Totally different story tonight. Just couldn't do it."
Foreman's use of the soft, slapping jab was indeed a setup. Beginning in the sixth round, he began sneaking a right hand around it, getting wider and wider. "You go around him with the right," explained Foreman. "It makes him not hear for a second." He had no illusions about winning a decision. He was sure it would have to be the right hand. "I knew it would be a knockout — in the 11th round, I thought. I knew if I could hit him with a right hand and get a little body English in it, he would not get up."
Late in the 10th round, Foreman hit Moorer with a left-right combination to the forehead that had the effect of disgusting the champion. He momentarily dropped his hands, as if he was mad at himself. Then Foreman hit him with that chopping right hand and bedlam ensued, Foreman crouching at a neutral ring post in prayer, even as Moorer reclined on the canvas, peering into the dark lights.
So as a boxing fan, you held out hope that maybe, somehow, some way, Mike Tyson could pull a veteran trick and lull his less-experienced opponent into a trap — and then lower the boom!
Alas, the Baddest Man on the Planet had nothing left. The cupboard was bare. And thus the legendary Iron Mike Tyson was on the losing end of a lopsided decision to a YouTube star who used to make adorable dance videos.
It’s a bitter pill to swallow for Tyson fans. Like many readers, I remember Tyson decapitating Joe Frazier’s kid on ABC Sports as a rising contender. I remember him bouncing Trevor Berbick around like a kickball, winning the world title at the tender age of 20.
And now he’s 58. We’ve been following Mike’s rise and fall (and rise and fall and rise…) for nearly 40 years now. In many ways, Tyson’s mortality has mirrored our own: 40 years ago, we were vastly different people, too.
We’re not so young anymore, either. Like Mike, our yesterdays now outnumber our tomorrows. Professionally, socially, and politically, the sun is setting on our day as well.
That’s a bitter pill to swallow, too.
