Floyd Mayweather v Ricky Hatton was just a load of slap and tickle

Many a writer spent Sunday waxing lyrical about the prowess of Ring Magazine's blow-for-blow, pound-for-pound, Best Boxer on the Planet Floyd Mayweather who, in modern gladiatorial style, had orchestrated the capitulation of Ricky Hatton.

'The boxing gods must have thought that they were watching two nuns in a bun fight'

Granted, I only watched the delayed version of the fight after a late night out, but apart from the last three rounds the fight itself had very little to offer for the boxing purists, like myself who when watching a match in which two men are supposed to decimate each other, engage in bear hugs and tickling contests.

Sure, Hatton showed a bit of anger in the first three rounds and certainly had a few fans jumping out of their seats, but within the realms of the great fights, this registered as little more than a minor beep on the radar, akin to some flight school instructor having lost his way into the outer reaches of an airbase in Switzerland.

This heavily-hyped match was basically boxing played like a game of chess. Yes for the technically minded it was a marvel to watch the way Mayweather baited his opponent into a late commitment and took his chance with nonchalance and aplomb wrapped into one, but we were simply not entertained.