The movie tells the story of the Luis Resto-Billy Collins Jr. fight from 1983, when the journeyman Resto pummeled the undefeated Collins beyond recognition. Immediately after the fight, it was discovered that most of the padding had been taken out of Resto gloves. He and his trainer, Panama Lewis, spent two-and-a-half years in jail each, and were both banned from the sport for life. Less than a year after the fight, his career ruined and his life in shambles, Collins drove his car off a road and died.

The documentary focuses mainly on Resto, who got out of jail and then saw his life getting even worse. He never got his fighting license back and couldn't even get certified as a cornerman. His wife left him, his kids grew up without him, and he struggled along the bottom layer of the boxing game ever since. Throughout the course of the film, Resto—who had always denied any involvement with the glove tampering—comes to terms with his own role in the fateful fight, as he desperately reaches out for any lifeline that will pull his life back together.

In this early scene, he meets Panama for the first time since getting out of jail over 20 years earlier and confronts him about the gloves. Lewis also continues to deny any wrongdoing and promises that as soon as he gets back on his feet, he will help Resto out. In case, you hadn't noticed Lewis is covered in gold. Every finger on both hands, both his wrists and neck are swimming in jewelry. He's been back on his feet for a long time. Even though Lewis was banned as a cornerman he still makes money training top end fighters, while Resto spent ten years living in the basement of a gym.

Watching Lewis and Resto move through the shady underbelly of boxing, the whole movie is just a stunning reminder that boxing is run by some of the most corrupt and selfish people that walk the Earth. A boxing match between two well-matched contenders is a sight to behold, but it's hard to show any support for pugilism when you stop to think about what everyone involved had to do to get there. Or where they will end up, once they've outlived their usefulness. Rightly or wrongly, Lewis comes off as the consummate con-artist a man who casually threw away Collins' and then Resto's, lives in search of a big payday. The film is not entirely objective, but you don't have to know much about boxing to know that Lewis is not alone.

HBO: ASSAULT IN THE RING [Re-air schedule @ HBO.com]

For those of you too young to remember the 1970s (lucky you), on a night much like tonight in 1974, the Indians hosted the Rangers with a special beer promotion that drew 25,000 fans, or roughly three times the average attendance, to the ball yard. Eight ounces of tasty, tasty Stroh's for just one thin dime. Can you paint the picture in your head?

The teams were not the best of friends (they had brawled in Texas a week earlier) and things got a little heated late in the game—a game that featured multiple streakers, mooners, and hot dog throwers. The event even has its own Wikipedia page, which helpfully explains.

The ugliness escalated when Cleveland's Leron Lee hit a line drive into the stomach of Rangers pitcher Ferguson Jenkins, after which Jenkins dropped to the ground. The fans in the upper deck of Municipal Stadium cheered, then chanted "Hit 'em again! Hit 'em again! Harder! Harder!"

As the game progressed, more fans ran onto the field and caused problems. Ranger Mike Hargrove (who would manage the Indians and lead them to the World Series 21 years later) was pelted with hot dogs and spit, and at one point was nearly struck with an empty gallon jug of Thunderbird.

Citation needed! Things came to a frosty head in the ninth when a fan tried to steal Texas outfielder Jeff Burroughs' hat. Burroughs tripped and fell down, his teammates thought he was under attack and charged out of the dugout with bats. (Yes, Billy Martin was involved.) A full-fledged riot ensued, players were hit with bottles, chairs, fists, and eventually Cleveland had to forfeit. The local station broadcasting the game showed a tremendous lack of foresight into the coming YouTube age and switched off the live broadcast as soon as it turned ugly. Still, good times all around.

And that's why 35 years later, a local Cleveland watering hole is memorializing the occasion with ... 10-cent drafts of Stroh's. And some wholesome rock music. Please tell me Mike Hargrove will be there.

Cleveland Bar Celebrates 35th Anniversary of Ten Cent Beer Night with Ten Cent Beer [Cleveland Scene]
ModernTube: 'The Ballad Of 10-Cent Beer Night' [Big League Stew]
This Day in Baseball History: June 4th, 1974 [Way Back and Gone]
Page 2: Remembering 10-Cent Beer Night [ESPN, 2008]

As you can imagine, American soccer games from the 1970s are not that easy to come by. Most matches weren't broadcast on television and even if they were, TiVo hadn't been invented yet. There was a bizarre technology known as "video cassettes," however, and Dave is on a never-ending quest to hunt them down. Welcome to your future, MLS fans.

When the league offices shut down in 1985, someone from the office called around to various players and coaches saying, "We've got these tapes of the games you were in, do you want them." The problem was that they were on 3/4" tape. Your standard home VCR is 1/2" tape. People had footage of themselves they had literally never seen because they didn't have the equipment. So, a decade later, as Wasser is following the league tracks, he's telling people, "I can play those tapes, do you want me to copy them for you?"

He currently has about 300 of the league's 1,000 or so matches and keeps a record of them on his website. He also collects U.S. National Team games and has so many that when US Soccer needs old game footage, they call him. This is truly a pursuit worthy of only the most obsessive sports fans, and even though Dave understands that his task will never truly be completed, he soldiers on, desperate to find footage of that classic 1978 Minnesota-New York playoff series. (Who could forget that?)

Oh, and it doesn't help that there is one league official who actively obstructs Dave's hobby, by controlling the rights to his team's games, but refusing to let his tapes be copied for any reason. That's right—it's Elliot Hoffman, former owner of ... the Philadelphia Fury.

Why Yes, He Does Have a Copy of the Tulsa Roughnecks v. the Edmonton Drillers [Unprofessional Foul]
Historic Soccer Videotapes [DaveBrett.com]

Machochip has a few good tips for the Giants to pull off the upset — run the ball, takeaway the deep threat, hit Brady in his model/actress-kissing mouth — but I'd like to add one more: find and start quarterback Kent Graham ASAP! Trust me.

As you know, the game will be aired on the NFL Network, CBS and NBC (8:00 p.m., ET), so lots of choices, sure. But I'm still holding out hope that Goodell okays PBS to simulcast the game too. James Lipton and Norm from This Old House really are the best announcing duo in the business. Enjoy the chips!

Pats-Giants Tix Offered Online For a Pretty Penny [SPORTSbyBROOKS]
Help Us, Tom Coughlin-Kenobi, You're Our Only Hope [Machochip]
Not Everyone Is Happy About The Simulcast [Sox & Dawgs]

But The Dallas Observer has dug up the still-breathing Dock Ellis, and not only is the story true, it's detailed in vivid, breathtaking fashion. Ellis — who, as the story shows, is much more fascinating a human being than we had known before — tells the whole sordid tale, one that starts by dropping Purple Haze acid on a friend's coach and ends with baseball history.

The hardest part was between innings. He was sure his teammates knew something was up. They had all been acting strange since the game began. Solution: Do not look at teammates. Do not look at scoreboard. Must not make eye contact. His spikes—that's what he concentrated on. Pick up tongue depressor, scrape the mud, repeat. Must. Clean. Spikes.

An absolutely riveting read.

Balls Out [Dallas Observer]

Marvin Miller, Everyone's Hall of Famer [All-baseball.com]