For a while, in a strange way I was glad I couldn’t make it to Connecticut’s Mohegan Sun Casino last Friday. I had to work my 9-5. Or on that particular day, my 2-10. The hours in the news media industry keep me off balance and last week, they prevented me from making the two hour drive to the Constitution State.
If I was there, though, I would have seen 6’7″ Mariusz Wach knock Mike Tyson-conqueror, Kevin McBride, unconscious with one jaw-crushing right hand.
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I had been ringside for both heavyweight’s previous fights. Wach’s was a third round knockout over North Carolina’s Jonathan Haggler, while McBride’s was a unanimous decision loss to Wach’s fellow countryman, Tomasz Adamek.
In the lead-up to his fight with Adamek, I got the chance to sit down with McBride at the Brick City Bar & Grill. Alongside a few other reporters, I sat next to him, in a seat that was only stone’s throw away from the bar — the bar that’s home to the liquid that sent not only McBride’s career, but his life, spiraling downward a few years back.
But the Irishman wasn’t there to throw back Jameson or guzzle down Guinness. Accompanied by his longtime friend and manager, Jerry Quinn, as well as an Irish-Catholic priest from Boston, McBride was there to talk about his upcoming fight. He seemed focused and determined.
He didn’t answer any questions in great detail, nor did he provide a quote that was worthy of the front page. What he did provide was a refreshing dose of honesty.
He knew there was only one way to win that night in Newark, Adamek’s adopted hometown. He was going to have rock Adamek’s world. He was going to have to hit “Goral” so hard “it’ll feel like the all of Ireland hit him.”
But that never happened. In fact, McBride hardly land as much as a jab. It’s quite possible McBride’s mighty right hand never even grazed Adamek’s flesh. At 285 lbs., McBride was too big, too slow.
After the fight, a battered McBride whose face was almost unrecognizable talked about the possibility of retirement.
“I’ll have to talk to my family and my wife,” McBride said. “There’s a good chance I will. I am a fighter and I am a warrior. I probably will step down. I tried, but I didn’t succeed, but that’s life. If you try, you’re still a winner though. You know, boxing’s a beautiful sport and I love the sport, but I’m not getting any younger. I’m 38 next month.”
He didn’t. So I met with him again before his fight with Wach at a press conference at Global Boxing Gym in North Bergen, New Jersey. I asked him about the remarks he made after the fight with Adamek.
“Definitely, there is always that thought [of retiring],” the Irishman said. “After the Adamek fight, I felt like I should have retired. I have two beautiful kids and a lovely wife. But people said, you know, look at George Foreman…the last thing that leaves you is the punching power. Whenever there’s an opportunity, there’s a chance…I can be world champion.”
But what good is punching power if you can’t find the person you’re supposed to punch?
In reality, McBride was never a skilled boxer. And at 295 lbs. last Friday, he had zero chance of beating the undefeated giant who is Mariusz Wach. His weight, lack of speed, and age, transformed him into a walking heavy bag.
Wach beat McBride to the punch each time the two engaged over the first nine minutes. McBride looked out of place.
Then in the fourth round, Wach decided to up-the-ante. Just like trainer Juan de Leon had wanted, Wach came out aggressive, constantly coming forward, touching up McBride.
After walking McBride down so that his back were against the ropes, Wach unleashed a one-two. McBride nonchalantly threw his left hand out in front of body trying to flick away Wach’s jab. But what immediately followed that jab was an ill-intentioned right hand that McBride never saw. It landed flush on the Irishman’s jaw and knocked him unconscious before he even hit the canvas.
The big man crashed to the mat immediately, his arms and legs spread every which way so that when he finally did lay motionless on the mat, his body resembled that of a chalk outline. Doctors and medical personnel were rushed into the ring. He would leave in a stretcher.
I was watching from the comfort of my own home — on Youtube. I was sipping on a glass of Maker’s Mark, debating if I should switch to Justerini & Brooks.
I knew the punch was coming, I was waiting for it. When it landed, my insides got twisted. For a moment, I was glad I wasn’t there to see it in person.
But then I thought, if boxing were a bunch of robots, nobody would be interested. As much as it is the appeal and beauty of organized violence, it’s the human element that attracts us to this sport. People identify with fighter’s all the time because they can relate to them — whether it is by hometown, race, or religion.
So I suppose I am sorry I was unable to attend. It’s those gut-wrenching, lump-in-your-throat, stomach-in-your-mouth, type-moments that get your heart racing and the blood flowing. The undefeated heavyweight — Mariusz Wach’s right hand and the subsequent collapse of McBride — brought forth all of those feelings.
While boxing is definitely eye-pleasing, it’s more poetic than beautiful. And there are plenty of tragedies. McBride’s career, I suppose, is one of those.
On the flip side, I’m happy for Wach. He’s also good guy, who’ve I’ve spoken to on a few occasions. He was elated after he dropped McBride, his joy was written all over his face. From when I first saw him work out almost a year ago, Wach has certainly improved. He’s trained with former heavyweight champion Michael Moorer, and this go around with Baby Joe Mesi’s old trainer, Juan de Leon. His improvements are showing, as is evident by the punishing KO he delivered to McBride.
And on that note — to McBride; I hope it’s as clear to you as it is to everyone else: please get out now. For yourself, for your wife, and for your children, Caoimhin and for Grainne.
Let’s hope this was it for the big Irishman. If he exits like he should, it would mean he will never become the first Irish-born man to win the heavyweight crown. But hell, at this point, with all the alphabet soup titles floating around, beating Iron Mike in many ways is a greater achievement than claiming some portion of heavyweight glory.
To the career of Kevin McBride, I’ll toast this Jameson.
Kyle Kinder can be reached via Twitter at Twitter.com/KyleKinder
