An expertly orchestrated circus of hurt machismo
Like thousands of others, this weekend I traveled to Manchester in England to see the (sort of) boxing match between two infamous YouTubers: American reprobate Logan Paul and British self-promoter KSI. A battle involving villains, it had been the culmination of an embarrassing series of poorly acted trash talk about videos and diss tracks. I was entirely ready for this to be a failure that is shambolic ; instead, I got a perfectly executed circus of bullshit. KSI’s teams and logan Paul conducted a occasion, showing the packaged Manchester Arena YouTubers breaking out in their constraints’ prosperous demonstration yet.
The series was a Logan Paul x KSI cooperation than a struggle of rivalry. Jake Paul, the younger brother of Logan , also battled the younger brother Deji Olatunji of KSI. Immediately after the fight, Jake declared that he’s launching his own clothing line and that he desires (documented domestic abuser) Chris Brown to be his next opponent. It was the infliction of annoyance that is genuine and a mix of commercialism: these performers translated into a brawling functionality that left many people in the crowd’s amateurism thrilled. Whoever it was that they hated, that dude bled to their entertainment and got punched in the face.
Serving violence up as a 10 pay-per-view on YouTube and charging up to $200 for floor seats in the stadium, it was an affirmation of their enduring bankability of toxic masculinity. In executing their feud that was contrived, both pairs of brothers sought to maintain their manliness through base insults regarding attire, pain tolerance, strength, material possessions, and sexual prowess. You would think we’d all know better by now our civilization that is shared would be moving on from these retrograde tropes but nope.
According to Friday, I headed straight to the pre-fight weigh-ins, where I got a minute to chat with KSI (real name Olajide Olatunji). The place was packaged with gentlemen giving each other that half-hug that was manly, half-handshake where you press on your shoulder into the person’s chest. The interviewer before me proposed they perform their interview with their shirts off, and KSI obliged. (I opted to keep my hoodie on.)
“Have you noticed my numbers? Have you ever seen his numbers?”
KSI comes across as remarkably affable and down-to-earth, somebody who appears more at ease compared to speaking ill of his opponent, talking about the hard work of his coaching. I got the sense that, if he would, he’d much rather just dance and be a clown for the camera, but money and absurd pride had overridden his better judgment. I inquired how real his beef with Logan Paul was, and he responded,”100 percent. It is always true. It’s more difficult to fake stuff.” He then asked me,”Do you feel that is scripted?” I replied,”No.” “Do you feel this is all for show?” He followed, to which I said,”Yes!”
When I questioned KSI concerning the sensationalism surrounding this fight, he disowned it. “It’s due to our fan bases,” he maintained. “Have you seen my [YouTube subscriber] amounts? Have you seen his numbers?” (Logan Paul’s YouTube station currently has over 18 million followers, while KSI’s has in excess of 19 million.) KSI would have us believe that the hype is all self-generated from a fervent fan base, an assertion directly contradicted by the pair’s fitting its tracks; KSI’s attributes he rapping over Logan Paul’s head on a platter with an apple stuffed in its mouth.
After meeting him, it appears clear to me that there is a KSI character being acted out by Olajide Olatunji. Unlike many of his fellow YouTubers, nevertheless, Olatunji doesn’t draw an explicit line between his inner self and the larger-than-life theatrical performer. He claims it’s all”100 percent real” all the time, seeming unwilling to admit the many contradictions in the way he sees himself in person and on camera.
This was handled by mainstream media outlets that were serious like a serious boxing contest
The journalist dressed reporter among the TV networks that were British, from ITV. He had been one of numerous acute terrorists out of various networks and books taking this event completely seriously. The BBC, ITV, The Independent, and many other mainstream UK press outlets treated KSI vs. Logan Paul just like a conventional boxing game. They reported on the material of this bout instead of the farcical nature of its existence.
But back to the weigh-ins. The undercard featured two athletes and four dudes someone picked up at the closest pub. That part has been underwhelming, but then former world heavyweight champion Shannon”The Cannon” Briggs turned up along with legendary boxing announcer Michael Buffer, the guy who made the”Let’s get ready to rumble!” catchphrase famous. When there wasn’t any question left concerning YouTube stardom’s Egyptian validity, the involvement of both of these names put it.
By saying the younger Paul had been coached by precisely the same coach who aided Briggs defeat George Foreman back in 25, briggs introduced Jake Paul. Really, after casting off a T-shirt, shorts, and ostentatious jewelry which would make Mr. T envious, Jake Paul strode on the scales in perfect Instagram shape. Deji, meanwhile, turned up looking distinctly human in a manner that made me feel preemptively sorry for your Olatunji brother. He was lighter, shorter, and in worse state than Jake. What was Deji fighting for? By all reports, he had been roped into the whole thing because it is more spectacular to host a family feud than 1 clash of two enormous egos.
The attraction was not the boxing; it was the pain
Logan Paul reported for his weigh-in looking just like the product of those training videos he had taken at the buildup to the struggle to do an underwear picture shoot at a moment’s notice. KSI… well, KSI came out sporting a mask of Logan’s girlfriend’s face and got weighed with it on. They attempted to act hard and later faced off. I believe one of them attracted breath mints but at the point, my brain was erroring out in the exhibition of manliness and male flesh.
The day of these fights was a sin. Never mind the famed good British reserve, folks were roaring for bloodstream . Many were children. No one in the Manchester Arena attended in the hope of seeing the game of boxing; the appeal was that the embarrassment and humiliation a sanctioned, of this opponent hate for another. Just for fun, we were also treated to the casual misogyny of neighborhood grime artist Bugzy Malone, who entered the ring to regale us with lyrics about receiving fellatio from a”shady””bitch.”
It was watching Deji and Jake Paul make their way into the ring which I understood something important: although the anger and hatred between the fighters wawereanufactured, the feelings were real among their fans. “Fuck Jake Paul” chants were bellowed out in profoundly sincere, urgent tones. In response, Paul was wearing a massive series with those same words on it, embracing his role as the heel.
