By Bart Barry-
SAN ANTONIO – Friday evening at quittin’ time came the first COVID-19 emergency notification in more than a month, and this time, blessedly enough, it came in the form of a mere reminder to stay vigilant, as this town has been in taking our daily average-new-infections rate from 1,300 to 150, a triumph of local civil obedience done much to spite state officials as obey them. Parks are reclosed for the holiday weekend, too, as selfless discipline can carry a populace only so far when thwarted regularly by its governor and president.
Writing of blessings, for once in this pandemic era the dateline above, and the sentences that succeed it, relate to the material of their column; two local fighters shone Saturday on ESPN+, and characteristically excellent local reporting happened to treat the lasting effects of what maladies subverted in part Saturday’s defending super featherweight titlist. Let’s start with him.
In Saturday’s mainevent at The Bubble in Las Vegas Cincinnati’s Jamel Herring survived a disqualification victory over Puerto Rico’s Jonathan Oquendo in an ugly match that asked interesting questions about what to do with a fighter who says he is unable to continue. For make nary a mistake about it: Herring told anyone who would listen, from doctor to cornermen to ref to doctor, he was unable to continue. He squeezed his right eye tight and heard his chief second say it was swelled shut. He was unable to continue, he said, and his corner and corner’s doctor informed the ref.
Tony Weeks probably should have waived his hand and walked away at that instant; it’s a binary thing, isn’t it, or shouldn’t it be? If a fighter cannot continue, consequences be damned. What Weeks sensed and was in small part a party to was not binary. Better put: Had someone indicated Herring’s title would be lost if the fight were stopped, does anyone doubt Herring might have been able to continue?
Before Herring or his corner wanted to declare an end to Herring’s fight, instead, Herring and his handlers wanted assurances he would be the winner. That surely puts a bit of the “can” back in cannot continue. On the broadcast Timothy Bradley got this immediately and found himself revulsed by it. He wanted to say as much, in realtime, but got overruled by his host and ringside reporter. “It’s OK, Tim!” said Joe Tessitore; the house fighter’s record, and his upcoming unification bout on ESPN, would not be jeopardized by the fight’s early stoppage.
That wasn’t at all what bothered Bradley, and he had character and conviction enough to say so a few minutes later, preceding it with some novel word play: “Real eyes real-ize.” To his credit Andre Ward, more of a company man than Bradley, agreed with Bradley when he didn’t have to; Herring had not comported himself as a champion should, and neither former champion would say he had.
Here’s one word to describe Herring from opening bell to closing: Fragile. When did you ever see a defending titlist slip and fall in the opening five seconds of a prizefight? Slick logo, new shoes, jitters, whatever – it doesn’t happen, it’s not in the game. Even had ESPN not led with a cinematic treatment of Herring’s misfortunes and recent battle with COVID-19, any proper aficionado should’ve noticed something not-right about Herring immediately.
Oquendo, giving-up a half-foot in height, did everything he possibly could to reduce Herring’s obvious physical advantages, including leading with his head (anyone who’s sparred with one foot in a tire knows there are certain geometrical arrangements that verily favor a shorter man), but c’mon, this is Jonathan Oquendo, a guy whose lights Juanma Lopez cut in five minutes, not a Rubik’s Cube. You call yourself a world champion, you solve Oquendo without a referee’s help.
It was that constant pleading for a referee’s help that most of all made Herring appear fragile. Oquendo, or rather a fight in the form of Oquendo, was in Herring’s head 30 seconds after the opening bell; Herring wanted no part of punching or being punched. Is this attributable to a wanting character on Herring’s part? No, we can probably cross that off the list directly. Herring has comported himself heroically enough often enough in his past to take the character-flaw option off our menu.
One only has so much defiance and will in him, though, supplies are not infinite in any man, and some of what Herring has endured in war and fatherhood have undoubtedly weakened him. Then we introduce his recent bout with COVID-19, whose enduring physical effects we cannot yet know. One thing we are learning about is the virus’s probable effect on the vestibular system. As Chara Rodriguez, physical therapist and professor at the University of the Incarnate Word, puts it in the SanAntonioReport.org piece cited above:
“When people have problems with that system, vertigo, dizziness, being off-balance, falling, and a lot of fatigue are very common.”
It’s another reason why fixations on COVID-19’s mortality rates alone are so terribly shortsighted. The taxes this virus will levy on America’s healthcare system are likely to be enduring as they are currently unknowable.
Let us not close on a note so dour, this Labor Day, but rather a note about a couple sons of this bluecollar town: Jesse “Bam” Rodriguez, an undefeated 20-year-old sensation who went through flyweight Janiel Rivera in less than a round, Saturday, and Benjamin Whitaker, who snatched junior middleweight D’Andre Smith’s 0 in a quite conclusive boxing lesson. Rodriguez is a prodigy about whom you’ll be reading for years. Whitaker, on the other hand, is a 36-year-old who is puro San Antonio, a hardworker who takes life as it comes at him without fury or complaint.
In what feels like a couple lifetimes ago I would see BJ every weeknight at San Fernando Gym, downtown, a couple years before he turned pro, and when he learned I lived in a highrise a few blocks away he’d say he would come stay on my couch, and I’d shout, “Only future champions stay rent-free!” He’d smile and say that was no problem.
Bart Barry can be reached via Twitter @bartbarry
