On October 3, 2009, professional boxing returned to Milwaukee after a 13-year absence. And on October 3, 2009, boxing died in Milwaukee.

I had never been to a boxing match before. So the opportunity to sit ring-side at Saturday’s Brew City Brawl was enticing, to say the least. Ten fights, including the swan song of legend Eric “Butterbean” Esch and the debut of his 21-year-old son, Caleb. Watching people getting punched in the face is fun. Sign me up.

Oh man, what a train wreck.

First of all, the place was empty. The U.S. Cellular Arena, located just across the street from the Bradley Center, has a seating capacity of over 12,000. I’d be shocked if there were 450 people there. It was like being in Raynor Library on a Friday night. Just you, five other biochemistry majors and hundreds of empty chairs. Before the event started, the public address announcer told everyone in the cheap seats to move down and sit around the ring, which greatly upset the people who had dropped 70 bucks on seats they could’ve gotten for 12. Lesson learned, I guess.

Also, it started about 45 minutes late. Good thing we got there so early. Slated for a 7:30 p.m. start, it didn’t get going until around 8:15 p.m. and we didn’t leave until considerably past midnight. It. Went. On. Forever. It was like the Energizer Bunny of boxing matches.

And remember how it was supposed to be 10 fights? Well, there were only nine. Butterbean’s son didn’t even fight, which was basically half of the reason I wanted to go. Apparently his opponent didn’t show up, which I couldn’t confirm because Caleb turned around when I asked him about it.

Oh yeah, and most of the fights were pretty boring. Of the eight matches before the main event, there was only one knockout, by a young boxer named Matt Ellis who was easily the best fighter we saw all night. Other than his 30-second decimation, it was a lot of dancing around and not much action. I kept looking into the crowd and just seeing a bunch of bored, uninterested faces. I am not exaggerating when I say that the ring girls were getting louder cheers than some of these fights.

And you know what? It was fine. I didn’t care about any of it. Like everyone else, I just came to see Butterbean’s last fight and watch him KO some unlucky mortal for the final time in his career. The night would be saved. He would tear this guy apart like he was Johnny Knoxville at a department store. My hero.

Butterbean lost.

In a split decision, Harry “The Ho-Chunk Hammer” Funmaker was awarded the win, which he deserved. They had fought twice previously and in both contests Butterbean had won. But this was a different story. Butterbean was slow and unaggressive. He was just letting Funmaker punch him at times. He was mentally checked out.

Listen, I talked with Butterbean for almost half an hour the other day and he was a really nice guy. But at the fight on Saturday, he just looked like he didn’t really care. It was more disappointing than anything else.

Adding to the hilarity was a delay in the middle of the main event fight. Butterbean and Funmaker were about to head out for round two, when all of a sudden the lights went out. Then they just awkwardly stood there for a couple minutes while they tried to restore power. Classic.

At approximately 12:15 a.m., the referee held up Funmaker’s hand, while his ring music, the Rolling Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil,” began to play. Tired and shocked, I couldn’t help but laugh.

It was the perfect ending to such a comedy of errors.