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Monday, March 23, 2009 Minute by minute: 'March Badness'  By
Jake Rossen  This is how MMA has poisoned me: It has been seven
years since I willingly plunked down cash for a boxing pay-per-
view. (I don't think foxy boxing counts, but I'm open to
arguments.)  Why bother? It's an upturned file drawer of
meaningless rankings, belts, corruption and -- most egregious of
all -- boredom. Athletes paw and jab at each other expertly, but
once you've seen a fight in which all ranges of hurt are
allowed, it's tough to appreciate anything else. At 30 years
old, I'm officially a UFC baby.  Roy Jones Jr., noted legend and
mellowed trash-talker, has addressed my disinterest by acting in
collusion with MMA to present "March Badness," a hybrid affair
that beamed from Pensacola, Fla., on Saturday and reminded me
why it'll be another seven years before I make the same mistake
three times.  Sure, mingling sports -- the combat-sports
equivalent of tofurkey -- cut my bore