Boxing insiders will forgive David Haye. Many of us have already. What he did some Saturdays ago against Wladimir Klitschko, the ballsy hustle of it, was different to us only for reasons of scale. We see the same embellishment and churlish irony from smalltime promoters each month. Supposedly, it’s part of prizefighting’s charm.
We endure it out of self-interest. If the heavyweight division could just get back on the front page of . . . well, OK, the homepage of, well, something, laymen would again talk about our sport. They’d want to read about it, too. Advertisers would return. Writers would be paid.
But what about those laymen? If you know any, they approached you this week about Klitschko-Haye because you’ve mentioned boxing to them at Starbucks. These aren’t your friends from the gym. These are the people with whom you talk about boxing, work or federal-debt-ceiling negotiations.
And what they wanted from you, believe it or not, was a little outrage. They watched Klitschko-Haye, because it was for the heavyweight championship of the world, and they were unimpressed. So, they wanted your eyes to flash or your voice to rise Monday. They wanted to hear what Haye did was unacceptable. When you explained the fight wasn’t that bad and Klitschko is very effective at what he does and Haye’s trash-talking is just the way of the world, you know what these laymen thought?
Hadn’t watched boxing in ages. Seems I haven’t missed anything.
We won’t mourn these absentee fans’ future absence because that’s what the 1990s and 2000s were for – fretting over a dwindling interest in our sport. Today, God love us, we’re defiant; those moronic ghouls, we say, they just want senseless violence and don’t even know what a counterpunch is!
There went the last three casual fans? Very well. No one here but the choir, then, so let’s preach to us.
We found comfort on Friday and Saturday – a couple reminders of why we stick with this sport no matter how little this sport cares that we do. Arizona super middleweight Jesus “El Martillo” Gonzales made a fine scrap with Mexico light heavyweight Francisco Sierra on ESPN2, Friday. And Saturday “Bam Bam” Brandon Rios made one of the finest three-round championship fights of the last 30 years, with Urbano Antillon on Showtime.
But it was all ruined by HBO. There is a temptation to think that way, sure. It was hard to watch Saturday’s fare in the aficionado’s proper order – Showtime first, HBO second – without going to bed a little downtrodden. HBO set out to rehab one of its house fighters, and he lost, and the Atlantic City judges – unaware HBO had quit on its house fighter – turned in majority-decision scorecards confirming a rehabilitation.
Paul Williams’ victory, contrary to popular sentiment, was not all that is wrong with boxing. At this point, a 100-round fight couldn’t turn that trick. Williams’ victory instead was a lesson in the corrupting effect of vesting a small group of people with disproportionate power, but if we’re going to play the boxing-as-metaphor game, we might as well find a worthier subject to treat than some Machiavellian advisor or other.
You know what? Let’s scrap the game altogether and just celebrate what Gonzales, Sierra, Rios and Antillon gave us.
Jesus Gonzales, possessed of one remarkable punch and many flaws, returned to the place where he was comprehensively undone by Jose Luis Zertuche almost six years ago. He dropped Sierra in the fourth round with a left cross he throws to the body as well as any southpaw in the game. Then he was dropped in the fifth by a Sierra right hand to the chin Gonzales leaves unguarded as any southpaw’s in the game. But Gonzales rose from the canvas to win a fair unanimous decision.
His attack consists of a bunny hop, a pair of jabs and a lunging left hand followed by backwards hops and a reset. Something like this.
Gonzales bounces, sets. He jabsjabs, then leaps. Right hand in his front pocket, chin good and high, he dives forward. The left fist uncoils perfectly from behind his left shoulder, and his wrist turns over at the instant before impact, to make a punch forceful enough to crack a human rib – a feat Gonzales achieved against Kendall Gould 50 months ago in Fountain Hills, Ariz. – the very sort of punch that would fold Andre Ward in half were it to land. The odds of that happening are long. Ward is much better than Sierra. Much better than Gonzales, too. But anyway.
Gonzales is not the future star promoter Bob Arum thought he was in 2003. But ESPN2 could do a lot worse than televising Gonzales’ next three or four fights.
Writing of Arum’s roster of future stars – the fluctuating team of a curmudgeonly coach – how about that Brandon Rios? Little was missing from his 8 1/2 minute destruction of Urbano Antillon but the finish. With Antillon dazed and stumbling away, Rios just missed a chance to run across the ring and finish him like Marvelous Marvin Hagler finished Tommy Hearns in the only better three-round fight you can think of.
This was a fight for a world lightweight title. It was a fight in which neither man gave ground. A fight that saw Antillon, felled twice and on the verge of unconsciousness, scoff at a ref’s suggestion the fight should not resume. A fight of gorgeous uppercuts and hooks and no defense for its own sake. A treat that Rios ended by catching Antillon’s left hook to the body and countering it with a right cross, twice. Poetic.
Yes, sport in general has forgotten but not forgiven David Haye. And there are fewer prospective boxing fans today than there were two weeks ago. But there are still prizefighters from the Mexican tradition out there. And in that, friends, we must find our solace.
Bart Barry can be reached via Twitter.com @bartbarry
