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Articles of 2007

The Harder They Fall

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Somebody much, much smarter than me once wrote that the best boxing films are not, at their core, films about the sweet science: “Raging Bull” is the about one man’s self-destructive tendency towards violence; “Rocky,” “the story of a million-to-one underdog,” is a treatise of human failure’s need for fantasies of fairytale endings; “Million Dollar Baby” is a symbolic tale of the human desire to connect with someone.

Boxing films tend, for the sake of authenticity, to populate their casts with former champions and contenders. Former fighters in the cast for the 2001 film “Ali” include WBO heavyweight titleholder Michael Bentt (as Sonny Liston), former IBF cruiserweight titleholder Al Cole (as Ernie Terrell) and multi-weight champion James Toney (as Joe Frazier). Speaking of Smokin’ Joe, he’s the only professional boxer apart from Burt Young (unbelievable, but true) to appear in the first “Rocky” film. And checking the credits for “Raging Bull” reveals that the role of former light-heavyweight contender Billy Fox was played by former WBA light-heavyweight titleholder Eddie Mustafa Muhammad.

Perhaps the best and most underrated film to actually be about boxing is 1956’s “The Harder They Fall.” The plot is thus: Nick Benko (Rod Steiger), an unscrupulous American boxing promoter, faced with the dearth of talent in the United States, has begun scouring overseas for his next meal ticket which he finds in the unwitting and gullible Argentine giant Toro Moreno (Mike Lane). Toro, it is soon revealed, is a hapless fighter: “a powder-puff punch and a glass jaw… that’s a great combination” one ringside spectator dryly observes at a sparring session. But this means nothing to Benko who takes on unemployed boxing writer Eddie Willis (Humphrey Bogart) to act as Moreno’s publicist and (later) manager. Willis fixes fights for the unknowing Moreno and maneuvers his childlike charge into a heavyweight title fight that Benko and Willis can’t fix. Toro takes a horrendous beating and Willis discovers afterwards that the mob-related Benko has fleeced Toro of the majority of the fight’s revenue through exploitative contracts and creative accountancy, leaving the broken giant with just $49 from his American boxing career. As Benko sells Toro’s contract on to an equally unscrupulous manager, Willis recovers his floundering morals and places Toro on the plane to Buenos Aires, having given his own share ($24,000) of the endeavor.

Directed by Mark Robson, “The Harder They Fall” is notable firstly because it comes from the pen of Budd Schulberg who, two years previously, had written “On the Waterfront,” another great film about the underside of boxing. Secondly and poignantly, “The Harder They Fall” is Bogart’s final film before he died of throat cancer less than a year later and it seems a fitting tribute that his performance is so well-crafted and nuanced. Here, the disease is beginning to take hold and his physical appearance, haggard and weakening, adds to the sense of Willis being tainted by what Jimmy Cannon referred to as “the red light district of sports.”

Steiger, who accompanies Schulberg from “On the Waterfront” and was/is America’s most underrated actor, adds flesh to Nick Benko who easily could have been a  two-dimensional monster. Steiger never loses sight of the fact that although Benko is a businessman who will go to any lengths to protect his “interests,” he is also a loving family man who dotes on his children. But Benko inside the world of boxing is perfectly and tacitly described by film critic A.K. Rode as “an absolute hyena.” Not only does Benko coldheartedly exploit Toro, but over the course of the film he is complicit in many criminal and amoral acts including sending two of his “boys” to physically injure Toro’s first American opponent who refuses to take the dive and forcing a sick and injured man into ring causing his death before twisting the subsequent newspaper exposure into good publicity for Toro’s tilt at the championship crown. There is a toe-curling irony when the repugnant Benko calls cynically on God in front of the press to save the life of the man he has just condemned to death.

Adding authenticity to “The Harder They Fall” is a roster of big names from the fight game. Perhaps the most prominent in the cast is Jersey Joe Walcott playing assistant trainer George, a man Willis dubs “a broken-down old warhorse.” Walcott is surprisingly good in the role, improving during the running time and he holds his own in his scenes opposite the theatrically trained and more experienced Bogart. Another notable appearance is made by former journeyman Joey Greb playing himself as a punch-drunk and broke ex-fighter reduced to living in his car. The role of Gus Dundee, the former world champion who dies after his bout with Toro is played by former light-heavyweight contender Pat Comiskey.

It’s worth comparing at this point the heavyweight champion from “The Harder They Fall,” – Buddy Brannen, the boxer Max Baer and “Cinderella Man.” Like “Cinderella Man,” the world heavyweight champion in “The Harder They Fall” is a demon of a man who destroys his opponents and then gloats over their prone figures. A natural showman inside and outside of the ring but not a good one on either side of the ropes, Brannen appears to be the distinct blueprint for Ron Howard’s “Max Baer.” It is ironic then that considering the similarities between the character of Toro Moreno and former heavyweight champion Primo Carnera that the role of Buddy Brannen is played by the then-retired Max Baer.

It’s impossible when watching to ignore the similarities between Toro Moreno and Primo Carnera. Both are foreign (Toro is from Argentina, Carnera was Italian), oversized (Toro is nearly seven feet tall, Carnera was six-feet-five-inches), who are guided in a blaze of publicity towards the heavyweight crown with more than a helping hand from their promoters. And, like Toro Moreno, Carnera was also cheated of his fight purses by the unscrupulous and shadowy figures controlling his career.

Carnera didn’t miss the similarities; he sued, citing that the similarities between himself and Toro Moreno led people to presume that his own boxing career had only been successful through the careful planning, manipulation and criminal activities of unseen others. Surprisingly, Carnera lost the lawsuit. Perhaps it was because of the rumors that had followed Carnera during and after his boxing career that swayed the court’s opinion.

Where “The Harder They Fall” does differ from Carnera’s life is in the final few fights before Moreno challenges Brannen for the heavyweight title. Toro’s penultimate bout to the Brannen fight is his ill-fated contest against Gus Dundee, a reflection of Carnera’s fight against Ernie Schaaf in 1933 after which Schaaf died after being knocked out in the thirteenth round and led to Carnera going on to challenge Jack Sharkey for the heavyweight title. But unlike Gus Dundee, Schaaf was not a former champion but a “contender” or “stand-up guy” whose injuries were not sustained in his previous fight but were thought to have been inflicted by a vicious knockout in the final moments of his ten-round decision loss to Max Baer four fights previously.

Moreno’s destruction at the gloved fists of Buddy Brannen is a twisted distortion of Carnera’s fight against Max Baer. Firstly, Carnera was the champion and not the challenger, having legitimately knocked out Jack Sharkey in six rounds to claim the title. For “The Harder They Fall,” the roles are reversed so Moreno is the challenger to Brannen’s crown.

What’s more is that Moreno is knocked cold in the third round against Brannen; Carnera, in comparison, was stopped in the eleventh after rising from eleven knockdowns. Nor was Carnera an undefeated fighter as is suggested by “The Harder They Fall”; at the time of his fight against Max Baer, he had five losses on his record – three by decision, two by disqualification. Neither does Carnera’s record suggest he was in the same league of punching power as “exhibited” by Toro Moreno. Although undoubtedly heavy-handed, Carnera’s record prior to meeting Max Baer was 79-5-0 (62), a knockout ratio of 78%. But Moreno, we are informed by his trainer, had knocked out his first thirty-eight opponents in Argentina before coming to America, a trend that continues on the path to Brannen (although these fights are undoubtedly fixed). There are only two fights that Moreno doesn’t “win” by knockout: his first fight in America in which a crooked second in the opposite corner throws in the towel after his fighter reneges on the “agreement”; and another where the fighter, refusing to take a dive in his hometown, allows his gumshield to be fitted with chicken-wire, therefore ensuring a technical knockout due to cuts.

As for whether Carnera’s fights were fixed in the same manner as Moreno’s, it is a point still debated. To this date, nobody has come forward and talked openly about fixing the Italian’s record although it is widely accepted that there was the presence of a “helping hand” that took Carnera from obscure European freak-show status to the richest prize in sports. My opinion is that Carnera was better than is generally accepted, not a great boxer but able enough to be guided towards the top. Undoubtedly, he was controlled and exploited by darker elements but there are a number of factors which I believe bear out my assessment: firstly, Carnera had five losses on his record prior to fighting for the heavyweight title so each bout he fought was obviously not organized well in advance; secondly, prior to Baer, Carnera had gone to distance seventeen times in seventy-nine fights – if the fights were being fixed, surely it is easier to persuade one fighter to fall down than to persuade three judges and the newspapers to score for the other; and thirdly, videotape footage of Carnera at training camp reveals a surprisingly well-conditioned, well-coordinated and skilled fighter. I would surmise then that Carnera was an able heavyweight fighter whose backers saw the potential to earn money from the sight of a giant fighting and guided him carefully towards a shot at the heavyweight crown. There were undoubtedly a number of “fixed” fights here and there and fighters chosen specifically to lose but this has always occurred in boxing and makes the case of Primo Carnera no different apart from his size, unique for the time.

Where Moreno’s fight with Brannen matches the Carnera-Baer fight is in the horrendous beating that the Argentine takes. He is knocked down three times in the first, once in the second and, finally, for the count in the third. Carnera, as mentioned before, went down eleven times in eleven rounds.

After seeing the damage to Moreno (broken ribs, jaw; two swollen eyes; a busted mouth), Eddie Willis says simply, “He’ll never fight again.”

Carnera, however, did and he spent the next twelve years fighting throughout Europe, the USA and South America. In his later years, he moved into professional wrestling where, as legend (and not much fact) has it, he beat Max Baer in a “rematch.”

Primo Carnera and Toro Moreno belong in the black-and-white eras of Joe Louis and Humphrey Bogart. Today, unfair comparisons are drawn between the Italian and current WBA-titleholder Nicolai Valuev but things are now different in boxing. Although it is still possible to guide any reasonably talented fighter to title contention and exploit them along the way, it would be impossible for a press agent like Willis to “hide” a real giant from the press. Nor is organized crime so influential – there is not enough money in boxing anymore, nor is its profile sufficiently large enough to justify the expense or the risk promoting a talentless fighter even if they are a giant. Besides, it’s the lawyers and the sports agents who control the commerce in the fight game now.

As the film closes, Eddie Willis steps behind his typewriter to prepare a story on Nick Benko and his minions. He begins by calling for a federal body, a national government entity to regulate the sport.

Maybe, fifty years on, some things haven’t changed.

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Articles of 2007

St-Pierre, Liddell, Clementi Win @ UFC 79

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LAS VEGAS-A reinvented Georges St. Pierre proved he’s ready for the true Ultimate Fighting Championship welterweight title with a dominating win over Matt Hughes and Chuck Liddell returned to the win column in his big showdown on Saturday.

St. Pierre took the final chapter in the trilogy with Hughes and now is the UFC interim champion at the 170-pound division.

Hughes just shook his head after tapping out before a sold out audience at the Mandalay Bay Resort and Casino in Las Vegas. It was called “Nemesis” and St. Pierre conquered his nemesis.

“Georges is just a better fighter,” said Hughes (43-6) who beat St. Pierre several years ago, but lost two years ago in a title match. “I just don’t know how much longer I got.”

St. Pierre (15-2) found Hughes using a left-handed stance to change up his attack, but the Canadian quickly adapted and used his quickness, skills and raw strength to take Hughes to the ground.

“If it wasn’t for my wrestling training I wouldn’t have been able to adjust,” said St. Pierre who had been preparing to represent Canada’s Olympic wrestling team.

Inside the Octagon the Canadian was never in danger. In fact, Hughes was the fighter teetering for the entire fight that ended in 4:54 of the second round.

It wasn’t supposed to be that way.

Hughes, known for his wrestling skills, just couldn’t solve St. Pierre’s quickness. Every move the Illinois fighter attempted was squashed.

St. Pierre is now promised a fight against the current UFC welterweight champion Matt Serra, who pulled out of the fight with Hughes because of injury.

“If I don’t get my belt back, I’m going to consider myself champion,” said St. Pierre filled in for Serra with less than a month of training.

After dominating the first round on top of Hughes, the second round was even worse as St. Pierre landed elbows and fists. Though the Illinois fighter escaped from underneath, he was quickly thrown down. Within seconds St. Pierre grabbed Hughes left arm and turned it into an inescapable arm bar.

Hughes screamed out: “I tap!”

St. Pierre now awaits Serra to recover from his back injury.

The semi-main event was no less intense.

The light heavyweight showdown between Chuck “The Iceman” Liddell and Brazil’s Wanderlei “The Axe Murderer” Silva was a three-round punch out between two famous sluggers. In the end Liddell’s sharper punches in the first and third round decided the fight despite a knockdown in the second scored by Silva.

Silva (31-8-1) dominated the second round for four minutes and 30 seconds but Liddell rallied and took the Brazilian to the ground. Two judges were somehow impressed by Liddell’s last 30 seconds and inexplicably gave him that round.

With both fighters huffing and puffing, and Silva with a bad cut over his right eye, Liddell seemed the stronger puncher and landed a back-handed fist and a right hand that stunned the former Pride FC fighter Silva. But he survived the round.

The judges scored it 29-28, 30-27 twice for Liddell who won his first bout after back-to-back losses.

“I knew it was a big fight for everybody and especially for me to get back on track,” said Liddell (21-5). “He had a lot more than I thought he had.”

Silva, who was making his first UFC appearance, was gracious in defeat.

“He won,” said Silva. “I gave my best.”

Temecula’s Rameau Sokoudjou fell short against Brazil’s undefeated Lyoto Machida (12-0) in their light heavyweight contest. The Cameroon native was unable to use his punching power with effectiveness against the karate-trained fighter. Then, unexpectedly, Machida landed a left hand that dropped Sokoudjou (4-2) and proceeded to gain an arm triangle that forced a submission at 4:20 of the second round.

“I’ve been working on my ground game,” said Machida who wants a world title match. “I beat the Alaska assassin, the African assassin, what other assassins are left?”

A heavyweight bout featured two Southern Californians eager to punch out. But San Diego’s Eddie “Manic Hispanic” Sanchez’s experience proved decisive in beating Temecula’s Soa Palelei (8-2) with uppercuts for three rounds. With his nose bleeding profusely and sustaining three consecutive uppercuts, referee Mario Yamasaki stopped the fight at 3:24 of the third and final round for a technical knockout.

“He was out of gas,” said Sanchez (10-1). “He was always putting his head down.”

Undercard

A grudge fight between two Louisiana fighters ended in a decisive submission victory by Rich Clementi of Slidell over the favored Melvin Guillard of New Orleans. A rear naked choke at 4:40 seconds of the first round forced Guillard, who had been predicting domination, to tap out. Though the fight was definitively over, Guillard attempted to assault Clementi but referee Herb Dean grabbed the fighter.

“He still didn’t learn his lesson,” said Clementi after Guillard attempted to rush him after the fight. “I validated what he’s known for six years, I’m the better man.”

James “The Sandman” Irvin (13-5-1) was nearly put to sleep by an illegal knee to the eye from Brazil’s newcomer Luis Cane (8-1) in the first round of a light heavyweight fight. Unable to continue, Irvin was declared the winner by disqualification at 1:51. Cane seemed unaware that UFC rules disallow knees to the head while the person is on the ground. Some mixed martial arts organizations allow it.

Former Ultimate Fighter participant Manny Gamburyan (6-3) quickly took his fight to the ground with former boxer Nate Mohr (6-5). Once on the ground the lightweight used his quickness to grab an ankle and twist. Mohr screamed to stop the fight at 1:31 of the first round.

“I’m so sorry for you man,” said Gamburyan who suspects he broke Mohr’s leg. “Nate’s a great guy.”

San Diego’s Dean Lister (10-5) scraped out a unanimous decision win over Bulgaria’s punch-crazy Jordan Rachev (16-2) in a middleweight bout. The judges scored it 29-28 for Lister.

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Articles of 2007

Pavlik Or 'Money': Fighter of the Year Is…

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There’s nothing like the terror felt when you have a big black bear snarling and snorting and hunting you down, eager to stuff your tender head into his mouth, to make you run as fast as you’ve ever run.

Thanks, Dana White, aka the big black bear.

Thanks for waking up the semi-slumbering powers that be, and forcing them to acknowledge that boxing needed to step up its game, or be eaten alive, and shifted even further back in the sports world’s relevance race, in 2007.

With UFC threatening to snarf up those much lusted after PPV dollars, the suits went into overdrive, and worked smarter, and harder, to give fans compelling matchups.

They agreed to get along to get money, and they relegated the sanctioning bodies, with those moronic mandatories, and instead listened to you, the consumer, and booked the fights that made sense.

Nobody worked smarter or harder than the PR arms for HBO, and “Money” Mayweather, the artist formerly known as Pretty Boy Floyd. Through his appearance on the ABC reality dance competition “Dancing with the Stars,” and stubbornly effective marketing by HBO (24/7 before the De La Hoy and Hatton showdowns were masterful mini-movies which whet appetites of even non fight fans), “Money” emerged as a pay per view attraction who can take the baton as the premier earner from Oscar De La Hoya.

He transcended the sport, and boxing added another player to the mix of fighters that even non-fight fans in the US recognize the name of. Now there’s Mike Tyson, Oscar De La Hoya, and Floyd Mayweather…

Boxing, a sprawling mess of interests lacking a central organization that insures cohesiveness in marketing, and message, and mission, relies on a central figurehead to maintain its precarious perch in the mainstream sports information flow. Mayweather, a savvy marketer who has outgrown his periodic outbreaks of youthful indiscretions, is a superstar that fits our age to a T.

He knows exactly what buttons to push to keep his name in the papers-—or, more accurately today, on computer screens—and feeds us rabid presshounds of negativity and turmoil red meat, with his intra-familial beefs and 50 Cent-inspired rants proclaiming his peerlessness.

The only thing holding Mayweather back is his own talent, probably, as he owns too much of it. He blew out De La Hoya, and Hatton, and like Roy Jones in his heyday, he so dominates his opposition, that drama is missing from his fights. Most of us tune in to the sport to savor the drama that comes from one man reaching deep into the well of heart and guts to bring forth reserves even he didn’t know he possesses, and imposing his will on an opponent who had been imposing his will upon him. That sort of drama, as manufactured by the late Diego Corrales, is the variety that the sweet science can deliver like no other sport.

We saw it in excess in 2007, from my personal choice for 2007 Fighter of the Year, Ohio’s Kelly Pavlik.

He dug into his well, after getting knocked to the floor in the second round of his tussle with middleweight champion Jermain Taylor, and refused to lose.

All of us could apply his tenacity in staying on his feet, and roaring back to topple Taylor with a furious flurry in the seventh round of their Sept. 29 battle, in our own lives. We all could identify with, and root for, the TSS Fighter of the Year.

One could argue that Mayweather, with ultra high profile wins over De La Hoya and Hatton, who did as much as anyone to keep the sport relevant in the last 12 months, deserves the TSS FOTY honor. As referenced before, maybe his superior level of talent has set the bar too high for us nitpickers. We may be prone to be too hesitant to bestow praise on Floyd, because he makes it look too easy. Sorry, Money, it’s possible you are being penalized for just being too damned good. You certainly are the runaway frontrunner for Fighter of the Decade…

Pavlik, we didn’t know how good he was coming in to this year. We knew how good his promoter, Bob Arum, thought he was. But we reserved judgment, unwilling to make too much of wins over Lenord Pierre and Bronco McKart. We became believers, to a point, when the Ohio native showed boxing skill and a closer’s mentality with his January win over Jose Luis Zertuche (KO8), and true believers with his dominant march over Edison Miranda (TKO7), the heavily hyped Colombian who was no match for the Youngstown hitter’s work rate in their May match.

But we still withheld a measure of respect before Pavlik met Taylor, the middleweight king, in Atlantic City. Maybe we had been burned by (not as great as we were led to believe) white hopes in the past, and were worried that hype and marketing were his greatest attributes as a boxer. The respect came pouring forth when he stayed on his trembling legs in the second round of his September scrap with Taylor, and intensified when he closed the show with a KO crack in the seventh.

The fighter has to be rewarded for staying the course, and not allowing himself to be knocked off the title path since turning pro in 2000, and progressing at a sometimes snailish pace, and sticking with his no-name trainer Jack Loew even though some experts urged him to trade Loew in for a flashier model, and battling frail hands, and getting pinched for slugging an off-duty cop in 2005.

Pavlik’s rise in 2007 came the old fashioned way, via training his tail off, and staying on message mentally, and rising to the occasion when the situation offered a softer, easier choice.

There was no mega marketing machine bombarding our short attention spans with a campaign to make Kelly Pavlik into the torchbearer for the sport in 2007.

But the 2007 leg of his march to prominence reaffirms the best of what the sport has to offer, and reminds us that with talents like Pavlik, the sweet science will never crumble into obsolescence.

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Articles of 2007

Resolution Time For Harold Sconiers

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When Harold Sconiers of Tampa, Florida, looks in the mirror these days he doesn’t see the journeyman heavyweight with a 15-17-2 (10 KOs) record that most other people do.

What he sees is the dynamic, hard-hitting heavyweight who made it to the finals of the 1996 Olympic Trials, and began his pro career with six straight knockouts and one decision victory.

Since being stopped in the first round by then undefeated Bermane Stiverne, who had won all nine of his fights by knockout, in February 2007, Sconiers has completely reassessed his life and career.

He has come to understand what transformed him from an exciting amateur and fledgling young pro with seemingly limitless future to a nominal heavyweight who had at one point lost 10 fights in a row.

Now aligned with a new manager, David Selwyn of New York, he plans on utilizing that newfound knowledge to embark on what he believes will be the comeback story of 2008.

“I always knew I had a lot of talent, but I never let that talent completely develop,” said the 31-year-old Sconiers, who has lost to such notables as Clifford Etienne, Maurice Harris, Donovan “Razor” Ruddock, David Defiagbon, DaVarryl Williamson and Eric Kirkland.

“I had a lot of different problems, but my biggest problems were self doubt and self sabotage. I would do things to make sure I never rose above a certain level.”

During his intensive, exhaustive and brutally honest re-examination of himself, he chose to forego all of the negative aspects of his career and instead focus only on the positive. Through lots of reading and candid discussions with his former trainer Larry Berrien, he went about changing the mindset that made him so comfortable with losing.

The first thing he did was look at his complete record from a totally different perspective. Rather than just dwell on the losses, Sconiers lauded himself for beating six previously unbeaten or once beaten fighters. Among them was Ray Austin, who was 14-1 at the time and later challenged Wladimir Klitschko for the heavyweight title.

He also fought Edward Escobedo, who was 12-1, to a draw, and lost a split decision to Ruddock, who has always been a formidable ring presence.

When he examined his 10 fight losing streak, he realized that his opponents had a combined record of 164-32-8. Of the 32 losses, Harris, who had revitalized his once dismal career in much the same way Sconiers hopes to, had incurred 10 of them.

And the always competitive Sherman Williams, accounted for another 10, which means eight other opponents had only 12 losses between them. Several were undefeated at the time they faced Sconiers.

“Losing to all of those guys gave the boxing world the perception that I was washed up and just didn’t care anymore,” said Sconiers. “I realized I had to change that perception, and the only way to change it was to change my old habits and my old ways of thinking, dissect everything I’d been doing wrong, and working really hard to establish a new belief system.”

Tapping deep into his own psyche, Sconiers came to realize that much of his lack of self worth was rooted in childhood issues. As a kid he had a passive personality, and both of his parents were college graduates who held what he calls high ranking positions in the corporate world.

He was bright enough to skip grades in school and he scored high on IQ tests. In no way was he destined to become a boxer. His parents had told him on many occasions that he would be well-suited as psychiatrist or attorney.

His life changed when his father held a Mike Tyson fight party at the family home. To say that Sconiers was mesmerized would be a gross understatement.

“I was instantly locked in,” said Sconiers. “I told myself that I have to do this.”

Sconiers ventured to the Frontline Outreach Gym in Orlando, where he met Antonio Tarver, who was roaring through the amateur ranks en route to the 1996 Olympics. Because Tarver was a few years older than Sconiers, he became a surrogate big brother to him. To this day, Sconiers has the utmost respect for Tarver as both a fighter and a friend.

During Sconiers’ amateur career, which consisted of 77 fights, of which he lost 9, his mother continuously reminded him that, in her opinion, “boxing was for dummies.”

Still, he managed to win a silver medal in the 1996 U.S. Nationals, where he beat eventual Olympic representative and future heavyweight title challenger Calvin Brock, as well as the finals of the 1996 Olympic Trials. In that tournament he lost to Williamson and Lamon Brewster.

When his pro career began to get derailed, the young and immature Sconiers blamed everyone but himself for his shift in fortune.

“I thought the problem was outside me, and thought everyone was responsible but me,” he said. “I dumped Larry in order to self-manage myself. I left what had always kept me grounded. Some of the fights I lost I could or should have won. There’s no way I should have lost to Etienne, but all I did was show up. The Ruddock fight should have been mine.”

As Sconiers lost interest and motivation, he also began dabbling in drugs and alcohol. More times than not, he would take fights on short notice. Even if he had time to train, he never cared if his opponents were switched or where he was lacing them up. Resigned to the fact that he was just fighting for money, he didn’t train hard, if at all.

He’d also pick up a few dollars working as a sparring partner for the likes of Etienne, Shannon Briggs, Jameel McCline, Larry Donald and Kirk Johnson, but the passion was gone. Many of those fighters, as well as their trainers, told Sconiers to snap out of his trance because he was a lot better fighter than he gave himself credit for.

While working with Etienne, the esteemed trainer Don Turner told Sconiers he could make him heavyweight champion of the world if only he’d “get his (stuff) together.”

Sconiers said he was at his personal abyss in mid-2003, when he was stopped by Kirkland, who was 16-1, in the first round in Vallejo, California.

“That was a real bad time for me,” he said. “I was up all night using drugs and alcohol and just didn’t care about anything.”

Although it would be nearly four more years before Sconiers embarked on his personal renaissance, when he looks back on his sordid past that is his most vivid memory. He has learned to use that memory to his advantage.

“A lot of people go down the same route I did and destroy themselves completely,” he said. “I was close to that point around the time of the Kirkland fight, but managed to survive another four years. It is so obvious to me now that I was trying to destroy myself.”

Sconiers is the first to concede that once you fall into the role of an opponent, it is hard to extricate yourself.

“A lot of guys go through this and fall by the wayside,” he said. “Look at Emanuel Burton (Augustus). He’s an immensely talented guy who’s good enough to be competitive and probably beat anyone. But he is in that opponent role, which is hard to snap out of.”

Having done lots of reading on positive thinking and overcoming psychological roadblocks, as well as completely revising his physical training regimen, Sconiers believes he has snapped out of it.

Besides the steadfast support of his beloved wife of six years, Jennifer, who just earned her master’s degree, he believes that his association with Selwyn is a pivotal component to the success he foresees for himself.

They plan on having a momentous and memorable 2008.

“Harold says he is going to be the Cinderella Man of 2008,” said Selwyn. “We plan on keeping a very busy schedule. History has shown that heavyweights are always just a few wins away from redemption. At his best, Harold is very good. It is undeniable that he was his own worst enemy in the past. Now he believes in himself, Larry believes in him, and I believe in him. I’m really looking forward to working with him so he can reach his full potential.”

“We plan on a busy schedule and a lot of upsets,” added Sconiers. “After my first couple of wins, people will probably say they were a fluke. I’m not quite the Cinderella Man and I’m not quite Rocky, but I am an underdog who can make it. Hope sells in boxing, and I plan on being one of the biggest stories of the new year.”

Manager Dave Selwyn can be contacted at: Boxingkid@aol.com or 845-893-2829.

*photo courtesy Harold Sconiers

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