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This is the official scorecard for the Jeff Horne – Garry Corcoran bout uttered last night by the sanctioning body, the World Boxing Organisation.

It is a fraud.

This is not the real card, and the numbers written upon them are not the real scores.

The fix is in.

I was there at the fight, two rows back from ringside with my lifelong mate and fellow boxing nut the Eagle and and my godson (his son) Jacko.

The Eagle and I have been following boxing so long that when the totally irrelevant and copyright breaching historical WBC and WBA footage of great old fights came up we could remember exactly where we watched them and how we got there.

Ali Frazier was after Mass, and our parents – who were friends despite the difference in age – were watching it on Channel 9 with a group from church, athough to be fair in those pre-main event days it could have been a replay played on Wide World of Sports, the great unknown magnet of a TV show that inspired kids to jump out of bed at the crack of dawn and shake their parents awake shouting “Hurry Mum! Hurry Dad! We have to get to 7am Mass! God’s Waiting”. (WWOS used to kick off at 10am).

We were at the Balmoral Tavern – which strangely is actually in Bulimba – for the Helicopter Man Holyfield fight; and at the Alderley Arms with the Irish Quartermaster for the quick Tyson KO.

Sugar Ray we savored the first time around at the Embassy Pub (I was underage, but had been drinking beer there daily since the age of fourteen, so it wasn’t a problem), and second time around down at Jackie’s Elizabeth Street TAB opposite the Wintergarden.

We watched Hearns – Hagler there too, and it stands proudly alongside Sugar Ray’s comeback win against Marvelous Marvin after 3 years in the paddock as the greatest fight I’ve ever seen in my life, and if you’ve never had the privilege of seeing how two great fighters can throw the fridge, the kitchen sink and every ounce of guts and heart and will at each other in 8 non-stop minutes of fistic frenzy that stirs the soul I strongly recommend that you do so now.

I’m not telling you any of this to boast, or to show how bloody old I am, but rather so you can understand that when it comes to appraisal of fights and the fighting game neither my old mate Eagle nor I are mugs.

We scored the fight from the start, as we’ve been doing together while watching bouts since we were babes in the woods – we bet on it of course, 20 bucks to whoever gets closest to the average of the official judge’s score – and at the end of the tenth there was only a bees dick between our cards, with him having it 6-4 Horne and me figuring 5 each, a judgement backed up by young Jacko, a pretty fair judge of punchers for an 18-year-old lad who also had a split tally on his card.

We weren’t alone.

Australia’s foremost boxing journalist Grantlee Kieza, whose involvement in the game stretches back to the days of Ali, only had a Tally Ho paper between Corcoran and Horne entering the 11th, as did his News Ltd colleague Dave.

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So how the f*ck could one official have scored it ten rounds to zip in Horne’s favor, and the other pair have it 9-1 the same way?

Horne won Round 1 comfortably, and may or may not have prevailed in Round 2 as well, but he most certainly did not win rounds 3-6, no way on God’s good earth. So how the hell did the judges have it so wildly wrong?

Simple answer?

They didn’t.

The scorecards were doctored up after the event.

The judges are cheats.

The fix was in.

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