That’s what the Mayweather/Pacquiao fight was Saturday night. I paid some sweat-encrusted dollars to see it at a casino in Connecticut, and the entire crowd was cringing, clenching for Pacquiao to nail him at least once. He didn’t.

The groans were audible, they echoed through the theater. Nobody likes the champ.

Mayweather is as slippery in the ring as he is in the courts. I really wonder what A.J. Liebling would make of this sport and its current “heroes.”

My prediction was six rounds in, Mayweather would try to get a KO, to solidify his reputation, to be an artiste. Far from it – he just wanted to remain undefeated – there was no room for a gambit or a chance of defeat. Mayweather is not a man to play games.

I fear that could be it for many casual fans of boxing – because if this is the kind of thing that’s billed as the “fight of the century,” it’s all through.

At least when you had ear-biting and “No Mas” insanity, it kept things interesting. Now it’s just greed and the flash of ostentatious egos.

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