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They Ain't Our Brothers, They're Heavy
by Michael Katz (December 15, 2005)
LAS VEGAS, Dec. 15 - In the last 30 years or so, point guards and defensive tackles have evolved into giants. It's difficult to find a major league pitcher under six feet tall. But boxing, like horse racing, stubbornly defies Darwinian logic.
Three decades ago, Secretariat was setting track records that, despite all the improvements of the breed, and the legalization of Lasix, are still unbroken. At the same time in boxing, giants walked the earth - Muhammad Ali, Joe Frazier, George Foreman.
Now, however, the best boxers have grown smaller. They are disappearing, like the sport itself, going under the radar, blips of lightweights here, a sighting of featherweights there. Creationists can take faith - how did evolution take us from Muhammad Ali to John Ruiz, from Frazier to Rahman, from Foreman to Byrd, in just three decades?
I jest because the year, which started out so promising, is ending with a flurry of heavyweight action, if you include what the Welsh wordsmith James Lawton called the "larcenous assault on the British public" that was Danny Williams' victory last Saturday over Audley Harrison. From Mike Tyson to Samuel Peter, the flotsam is underwhelming, but making fun of the division is a lot easier than thinking beneath the holly.
And when Don King, who has given us as more spectacularly funny lines as have most Boss Scribes, hit the gong when he bemoaned losing Hasim Rahman to his promotional rival, Bob Arum, because the WBCrock champion was able to become free from the Donald by claiming bankruptcy.
Said Donald: "How can the dude be bankrupt when he got a belt?"
That it was King's machinations with the WBClowns that enables Rahman to wear the crown that Vitali Klitschko wanted to wear to the Ukraine parliament, never mind. King always has ways of getting even. He can snare the butterfly Rahman almost immediately because the WBConspirators have mandated that James Toney, in whom King has half-interest, be the first challenger (never mind Toney is coming off a postive test for steroids or the WBClucks had ordered their Nos. 1 and 2 heavyweights to fight, which they did, but are now ignoring Oleg Maskaev's resulting triumph).
"Lights Out" is more slick flicker than a puncher, especially at heavyweight, which means Rahman's chin may not play a major factor whenever the fight is made. But unless Rahman gets in better shape than we've seen him, he will not have the legs he needs to stay on the outside, give Toney angles, and outbox the boxer. If, as he usually does when he jabs, he falls into his opponent, Rahman will be in trouble. On the inside, Toney will be boss. I give King a very good shot at winning back the title that Rahman took across the street.
Besides, Bob Arum isn't allowed to promote heavyweight champions. I think it's written in the Talmud.
King is in danger, though, of letting another of his paper champions slip through his greedy fingers. Pat English is about to go to court for an injunction to prevent the Con King from threatening rivals not to use Chris Byrd, who has the IBFelonious title. Byrd maintains there can not be tortuous interference with a contract breeched as often as King has.
Byrd is getting ready to go to Germany to defend against his mandatory, Wladimir Klitschko. Shelly Finkel, little brother's representative, is saying it could be March 18 on HBO. The money for Byrd will be more than King claims he offered a year ago. But King can settle the suit and countersuit with Byrd if he comes up with, say, a unification fight, which takes precedence over mandatory defenses.
On Saturday, in Berlin, John Ruiz defends his WBAssinine trophy against an even bigger stiff, 7-foot, 324 ½-pound Nicolay (or Nicolai, your choice) Valuev. You know King will get a piece of the big undefeated Russian if he wins - and though Don Elbaum once promoted him, Valuev, I am told, can not fight a little - and so would be able to offer Byrd the winner on a platter.
It is boxing's little Christmas (or whatever) gift to its American fans that the titanic Ruiz-Valuev clash will not be seen live. My membership in the Ruiz Fan Club has long lapsed, and Norm Stone's eventual exile to the sidelines, where he can join Rock Newman, is one of the few thrills I avidly anticipate. But pangs of regret confuse the issue. I fear that Valuev may retire Ruiz.
Ruiz, believe it or not, may be a better boxer than the Russian, who, like most of Eastern Europe, fights out of Germany. But that doesn't mean Ruiz is going to win. He has twice threatened to join the masses and sue King and with his market value currently about the same as a recording of Madonna singing Aida, Ruiz may not have the powerful backing of the world's greatest promoter. It may be that Valuev can not win a fair decision, but anyone who holds as frequently as Ruiz is vulnerable to disqualification.
A Byrd-Valuev unifier would allow King to put his remaining champion, WBOgus title-holder Lamon Brewster, into a profitable rematch with Wladimir Klitschko, who just happens to be that organization's No. 1 contender. Imagine how courageous Baby Bro will be against a man who already has taken his best shots. This time, Brewster should win a lot quicker. It certainly would be a much better payday than, gasp, one of the rumors going around as Brewster's next opponent, the once-again triumphant Danny Williams.
This would depend, of course, on the condition of the ankle that Williams sprained against Harrison. And as Sir James Lawton so eloquently put it in the Independent about the possibility of Williams again competing for a title (remember his wretched performance against Big Bro Vitali), "even in today's heavyweight wasteland, surely beyond both reason and conscience."
I was wise enough not to waste $20 to purchase the privilege of being bored by Williams and Harrison. I may spring tonight for the $20 for a Samuel Peter sparring session against Robert Hawkins. I can not envision much improvement in the so-called Nigerian Nightmare from his amateurish flailings against Baby Bro Wladimir. It was shown that he badly needs a trainer, yet none was supplied. So a quick knockout of Hawkins must be in order lest the flaws become too apparent again.
For the same money, I'll get Sultan Ibragimov vs. Lance Whitaker, the only fight in which it appears the matchmaker took a dive. At a New York press conference for this Florida card, Sampson Lewkowicz got in between the two contestants and, in trying to break them up, was hit by both and sent to a hospital. Nice touch, I thought. I've never seen Ibragimov, so as far as I'm concerned he's the Sultan of What. He has moved from minus $2.20 to minus $2.60 on the sportsbook.com line against Whitaker, whom we have seen and thus can have no confidence in going for the 2-1 underdog. It seems another futile attempt to find some heavyweight talent.
But according to Shelly Finkel, it won't be Mike Tyson again. Forget those obscene stories about him fighting Antonio Tarver. And no, Tyson won't be making any porno movies, either. He is too dignified for that. He came late to the Jermain Taylor-Bernard Hopkins snoozer Dec. 3 and left quietly, almost unseen. He still should be an announcer. I'd love to hear him work with Teddy Atlas. Or see him silence Max Kellerman.
In any case, we won't have to kid the heavyweights - except when the next "championship" fight is announced - because the New Year will begin with such as Zab Judah, Jean-Marc Mormeck and a second helping of Erik Morales and Manny Pacquiao. You know, good stuff.
