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Over the past few weeks, as the full dimensions of the economic meltdown have come into focus, most analysts have concluded that the financial crisis is the child of numerous parents, including predatory lenders, deregulating legislators, and excessively optimistic borrowers. Even so, the vast majority of the responsibility has managed to attach itself to the financial industry. While taking the blame for tanking the economy, establishing Republican socialism, and possibly destroying Western Civilization, Wall Street has had its own problems. As the major players in the financial industry have crashed and burned or been eaten up by other, lesser players, the streets have been filled with the saddest form of performance art. Once arrogant masters who strode the universe on the southern end of Manhattan have become masters of the cardboard box, carrying their personals home to overpriced condos that were purchased at the height of a real-estate boom. The dive in the housing market, which has already hurt so much of the country, has only threatened New York; right now, fingers are crossed from TriBeCa to Harlem.
In the midst of this, Doubledown Media held its annual Wall Street Boxing Charity Championship in New York's Hammerstein ballroom. Admission prices ranged from $125 for general seating to $10,000 for a ringside table, and the event raised money for two charities: a youth village in Rwanda and Tuesday's Children, an organization that serves the families of 9/11 victims. The fight card featured professionals from some of Wall Street's biggest names; for anybody who is particularly interested, the winners included a guy from Deutsche Bank, a guy from Citi, and a guy from the NYMEX. The guy from Morgan Stanley lost in a decision.
The sponsor, Doubledown Media, produces five magazines that cater to the creme de la creme, the wealthiest and most blindly ambitious people in the country. While I've only glanced at Dealmaker, Corporate Leader, Private Air and The Cigar Report, I once had the joy of working closely with some of the employees of Trader Monthly, Doubledown's flagship publication. Describing this magazine's readership as corrupt, profligate, and dissipated, while accurate in some cases, really misses the point. When envisioning the standard member of this audience, I flashed back to the self-impressed b-school kids I worked with in college, fast-forwarded them through a few years of 80-hour work weeks punctuated by bouts of sybaritic depravity, and added in a eight-figure salary. Basically, these are the kind of Wall Street sharks for whom an ideal weekend involves Most Dangerous Game activities in a country with a flourishing sex trade and no extradition treaty.
With this in mind, it seems like Doubledown is really missing a golden opportunity to market the Wall Street Boxing brand. Rather than holding events in elite ballrooms, the company should be booking its players into lower-scale venues around the country, particularly in places where the tanking housing market has left former homeowners searching for cheap rentals. If Doubledown could lower the admission price to under $50, introduce a steel cage, and allow audience members to bring rotted produce, they could seriously give "bum fights" a run for its money. Moreover, with former traders working hard to learn Chinese and Arabic while watching their personal wealth dwindle, this might be the blood-spattered golden parachute they've been waiting for!
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