(Note: SbB Senior Writer Tuffy couldn’t find a taker for his kidneys (though they are lovely ones, at that; quite pert), so he pulled up to UFC’s beach blanket beatdown at Mandalay Bay Beach for the simulcast for this report.)
Admittedly, it was a tough sell for some people. One person stopped us on the way in to ask if we, too, had spent $50 mistakenly expecting to walk into the arena of the most-touted event in UFC history and somehow found ourselves on a beach like we were Leo DiCaprio. Others (clearly comped) mocked those around them for dropping a wad of cash on a TV show when they could have “gone to a bar”.
For those people, we could only nod solemnly as we would for those who feel they’ve outsmarted the system by cruising the same three-block stretch for an hour to find a parking spot with a half-filled coin meter. Some people cannot be taught. Like Brock Lesnar, for example. Boy ain’t right. (Which reminds us… has someone checked in on his wife? Has she been flattened into crepe-like proportions?)