Malcolm Boyle: Showgirls fight it's not shock and awe

Ridge and Arkle. Photo / Andrew Cornaga

In 1956, the legendary American sportswriter, broadcaster and author Dick Schaap wrote: "The wonderful thing about reading and re-reading the truly outstanding books about sports is that they are about so many things besides sports."

Whether Schaap was right or not is arguable - certainly in the 50-odd years since he wrote those words, the lines between sport and showbiz, sport and commerce, and even sport and integrity, have been forever blurred.

Nothing, it seems, is considered these days out of the ordinary or beyond the pale.

Even the sight of two young women, inventions of the small screen and social media and legends on their own nightclub circuits, gloving up for three rounds of boxing holds a fascination for some.

In my growing-up years in a family of boys, my father used to stage regular eliminator bouts in our state-house kitchen before a wild haymaker one night went straight through the wall, prompting my mother to arbitrarily close the venue down.

So my passion for "the sweet science" was well ingrained before I was fortunate enough to land the much-envied job of boxing reporter for the now defunct Auckland Star newspaper in the 1970s.

These were truly Wild West days of the sport, prompting me to ensure I was always accompanied to the Auckland Town Hall (and sometimes Carlaw Park) by a large rugby league prop forward friend.

These were also the days of "anything goes", as the bell wasn't always regarded as the legitimate end of a round or the fight itself. Several mini-riots ensued when an unpopular decision or stoppage occurred.

I well recall a brave (and fortunately bulky) police sergeant named Phil Keiber leaping from his ringside seat to break up the action which the protagonists refused to stop even after the final bell sounded. Inside and outside the ring, the action was frequently bizarre and almost always bordering on hilarity.

I'm reliably informed that before my time, British seamen from the merchant ships moored in Auckland were invited to the Town Hall where they were blindfolded and sent into the ring to fight an unseen opponent.

To add spice to the contests, fighters were continually hit in the face by men standing ring side prodding them with boxing gloves stuck on the end of broomsticks.

In Pattaya, Thailand, in the 1980s, I witnessed a similar incredible sight in real life.

In a large beachside marquee, a feisty little kick boxer took on all-comers, duly despatching each of them with a flurry of punches or crunching head kicks.

When spectator boredom set in, the marquee owners stepped up the action with a series of bouts involving the bar's waitresses.

When this didn't bring the punters out of their seats with excitement, large snakes were thrown into the ring at the feet of the female contestants who had to contend with angry vipers, as well as their opponents.

So nothing is new under the sun and (presumably fit) well-prepared and consenting women sparring doesn't bring the feminists into the street like it used to.

Neither, I suspect, has the ability to knock the other over.

A warning though - having closely observed Matthew Ridge on the rugby league field and in the negotiating room, I sense a pedigree of readiness for combat which may well also reside in his daughter.

I say if the girls want to get it on, let them go to it. Although it will draw its share of curious spectators, to me this one just seems to be too much like "Showgirls meets the Kardashians".Malcolm Boyle is a former owner of the Warriors, manager of the rugby league All Golds, a former senior club rugby league player, journalist and sports marketing expert.