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THE song just blares in the mind as Barclays Center is approaching. It is for strictly ridiculous reasons that this is happening, because that inner child is feeling the rush of urban Brooklyn at its musically inspirational peak. Throw in the feeling of what should be a throwback night in boxing for a boxing junkie. Apple tends not to expand its major product lines past five discrete options at a time, and generally discontinues one product to make room for a new one. It produces enough Adderall to last The Weeknd. I jump in, barely getting past media clearance and missing what might have been syndicate commentating bigshot Paulie Malignaggi in his last appearance on HBO. Damn. I ask NY scribe Jason Gonzalez how he looked, before dialing up video. In his view, Paulie was on the cusp of being shot against accused cop beater Gabriel Bracero. Paulie arrested him from what I saw- but he faced plenty of resistance to the point where he could barely cuff him. We don’t want to see Paulie as some sort of steppingstone. The set-up is gorgeous, and there’s a nice crowd booing Tony Harrison’s dissection of Sergey Rabchenko until he smashes him in round 9. The crowd is buzzing for Mikey Garcia, returning to the ring for the first time in over two years. Running into the ring in a black cowboy hat to thunderous applause, Mikey proceeded to look like an all-time great with no rust, crushing a completely over matched Elio Rojas in 5 merciless rounds. Then came Leo Santa Cruz vs. Carl Frampton for the WBC featherweight title. All hell broke loose in the arena, in a way Showtime viewers could probably feel. As I was playing games with the buffet table back in the production room, Magna-Media’s Kelly Swanson, who presided over the event, was urging me to soak up the environment and get back out there, if anything, so that I could describe it for you. It immediately became clear that we were in a Belfast, Ireland version of Brooklyn, where their soldier Carl Frampton was about to take on WBC featherweight champion Leo Santa Cruz and a small gang from Mexico. Of the 9,062 on hand in Barclays, at least 6,000 seemed like they made their way from either Ireland or the U. K. , as they shook the arena as often as the fighters shook each other in 2016’s best action fight so far. The two of them together were like peanut butter and jelly- and I’ll be damned if I don’t want another sandwich. The classy Frampton got the nod, but to say one was truly better than the other, is to say the peanut butter was better than the jelly. If they do it again- and its in actual Belfast, it’s the same snack with a bigger serving from one of them. Santa Cruz will likely get stopped. As I made my way out of the arena after a pretty good media session with the fighters, I see the stretcher WBO women’s featherweight badass and reigning world champion Amanda Serrano put Calixta Silgado on after just 64 seconds. She broke two bones in her body, causing all of them to hurt. Don’t know if this will warm her heart at all, but she lost to a fighter who could become a legend, on one of the greatest night’s for boxing in Brooklyn history. Beastie Boys time. — By John Gatling aka Taz.