Last night at BB King's on 42nd St., Albert Gore III—the 27 year-old son of our nation's most almost President—faced an opponent in the Corporate Boxing Challenge. We were live on the scene, to cover this historic violence.
Maureen O'Connor and I traveled to the subterranean venue, which was replete with young off-duty finance guys, drinkin' some beers and cheering on their colleagues. There were several fights before Gore Jr.'s, so we slipped backstage to interview Al before the fight. We found him cooling his heels, hands wrapped and ready, iPod on, grasping for the eye of the tiger. He's a strapping lad, a solid 200 pounds, with perhaps not a classic boxer's build, but a classic nose tackle's build. Did he have anything to say to Gawker before the fight?
He did not. Though he's a very nice young man.
I took my place at the press table, next to a single lonely Reuters reporter. Maureen, with flip cam in hand, positioned herself at ringside. At long last, the time for Gore's fight—the last of the night—arrived. His opponent, Ken "The Carnivore" Cunningham, had brought quite a cheering section of be-slacked colleagues from Oppenheimer, all emphatically calling for Gore's blood.
In Round One, it looked as if they might get it. Cunningham came out throwing sweeping left hooks at 110% power (even leaving his feet once), clearly dreaming of the bragging rights attendant with knocking down a political scion. Gore (in the red headgear) began tentatively, eating a fair number of shots to the head and allowing Cunningham to get his shots off first.
Would this be the end for "Kid Blanco?"
In the second round, young Gore found his rhythm! Though he eschewed complicated combinations in favor of a jab- looping right one-two repetition, Gore Jr. began landing his big right hand, and forced the ref to step in and give Cunningham a standing eight count. Gore rushed back in—the jab, the overhand right!—stunning his opponent, and raising some alarm amongst the once-cocky Oppenheimer crowd.
Did we even detect a bit of a stylish defensive weave from young Albert, towards the end of the round? Yes we did.
His confidence renewed, Gore emerged for the final round in fine form. Cunningham could find no answer to Gore's straight-ahead one-two combos, and caught himself another standing eight count. Gore rushed forward with his looping rights again—another standing eight count! The crowd was in an uproar, calling for the ref to allow these two financial warriors to spill blood. And only seconds later, as Gore's fists pounded out their steady one-twos at the behest of his exhortative cornerman—yet another standing eight! The ref called the fight, fearing The Carnivore could stand no more of Kid Blanco's piston-like fury. Al Gore Jr. had won, acquitting himself bravely in the prize ring. In the entirety of Strategic Capital Partners, we boldly guess, there is no more competent heavyweight than the son of the former vice president. And of that, America can be proud.
Though we can't be proud of the drunk dudes from Tocqueville Asset Management who manhandled Maureen on her way out. Maureen says fuck you, guys. You even make Corporate Boxing crowds look bad, which is tough.
[Asylum has clips of the full fight. Our camera didn't work.]