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Articles of 2009

BRUTE XVI-Stick And Move

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Brute follows two Sacramento boxers: Mike Simms, a cruiserweight who trained with the Olympic team in 2000, who when I found him had lost five successive fights; and Stan Martyniouk, a young, Estonian-born featherweight, who when I found him had just fought and won his professional debut by decision, despite breaking his right hand in the first round.

I look forward to sharing the stories of these two fighters with the readers of the Sweet Science, and I look forward to hearing from any and all of you.

“Is that Stan?” asked a man near us who knew absolutely nothing.

“You would know if it was Stan,” Gerrell said, not turning completely to answer.

“Stan’s in the semi-final,” I added, though I’d only based that statement on logic.

Whomever the first fighter was (I learned later that he was named Andres Reyes, although perhaps one of the kings in his name was a negative, thus rendering the product so), the man who stepped into the ring next was the great Maximilliano Becerra—or at least by the response he inspired, a neophyte might have thought he was great. Actually, he was making his pro debut. In May in the Red Lion lobby, Sergio Sanchez had introduced Max to me as a rising star, although then he was an amateur, and, as stars tend to be, sitting idly waiting for planets to orbit him. Whether or not he would now, with some deft combination of punches, attract opponents into his modest gravitational field, he’d already established, as I’ve mentioned, a robust system of fans. He came in wearing a red robe, and as the speakers sounded the first bars of his song—a ranchera of brassy trumpets and shouts—the partisans erupted. One man amongst them had a derkach, which is the Ukrainian term for a ratchet noisemaker, and might be appropriately so-called if it had been brandished to celebrate Mr. Martyniouk’s advent. But since it was used to announce Mr. Becerra, let us call it a dercacho. Monikers aside, when the instrumentalist spun it, it sounded as if a string of firecrackers had been set off, or as if a gang of men were firing tiny pistols into the air.

The announcer called the fighter’s names and weights, and Mr. Reyes stood in his corner looking rather daunted. Students of Hemingway will remember that if anything you should never appear daunted, at least not in public. I got the feeling, therefore, that Becerra was on the verge of a grand success. He was, I’d just learned, Maximilliano “El Matador” Becerra, a name that I approve of as long as it isn’t translated into English. I am an ardent fan of the polite, if malicious, bitter scientist, Roger “El Matador” Huerta, whom Kenny Florian recently out-boxed in Minneapolis at UFC 87, and I was therefore prepared to adore his doppelganger.

Before the bell rang, the announcer introduced the timekeeper, who in this digital age is far less important than the round girls, as Stan “The Man” Gordon. The announcer may have said it with intentional irony, but I was not with a sardonic group. “There ain’t no Stan ‘The Man’ Gordon,” said Derek. Everyone around me nodded in agreement.

The fight started with requisite hesitancy. Becerra commenced the thing with a nervous jab. Someone in the audience yelled out, “Stick and move,” and I believe Becerra glanced down at his feet to see if they were getting out of the way when he’d finished punching. His movement was tight and jerky, though there was really no need for him to move as he was forgetting to stick. Reyes didn’t seem much interested in engaging either, and they bounced for a while like under-inflated balls until Reyes touched Becerra lightly on the chin. This seemed to upset both fighters because they moved far enough apart that neither was in jeopardy of encountering even the perfunctory jabs that both men continued to toss at each other with all the energy and skill of men scraping platefuls of food into the garbage. I gave the first round to Becerra because when after two minutes the two men found themselves hugging, Becerra tried to punch his way out.

It is always refreshing, but especially after a boring round, to see the girls enter the ring with the cards. In May I’d overheard Mark Wilkie tell two round girls, much to their disappointment and mine, that they wouldn’t be wearing bikinis in the ring. But tonight he had apparently instructed them otherwise. A very muscular man in camouflage shorts, not dissimilar in appearance to the man who’d escorted Terrance Jett to the scales the day before, delivered a girl to the canvas porch and held the ropes so that she could enter the ring. She had on a white bikini, secured with one bow in the center of her back and two more on her hips. On her right side she had a tattoo of cascading flowers pouring down her oblique. She walked the first two lengths of her quadrangle facing away, so it was not until she made her second turn that I recognized her as Angela, surname yet undetermined, of Tokyo Fro’s. When she’d completed her orbit, she extended a hand to her protector, giving him a false if still provocative smile, and as he led her down the stairs to the floor, I knew that of all the women in the ballroom, she was curing best, as a moist ham does, under that glow of eyes.

The second round, as if the boxers had been reinvigorated by Angela’s parade, was more competitive. For one, Reyes led with his head on the first exchange and bumped into Becerra’s eye. Nothing bad came of it physically, but it ignited the partisans. Soon after, Becerra got in a solid, straight left. He seemed to be recalling his training out in Vacaville, and used that reacquired knowledge to force Reyes onto the ropes where he slapped him around a bit. To Reyes’ defense, he fought off those same ropes, showing as he did that he’d sustained very little damage during his tenure against them. A while later he even landed an uppercut on Becerra’s chin, though it wasn’t malicious. Then, near the close of the round, they were in each other’s arms again, and as in the first, Becerra punched his way out. This time, though, he threw a solid left hook which caught and ripped Reyes’ under-lubricated brow. Reyes came away at the bell with blood pouring down his face.

The third, I thought, belonged to Becerra as well, although it was not as pugilistic as, say, a boxing match. Becerra moved deftly, weaving from side to side, proving that he was capable of evading his opponent if necessary. Reyes couldn’t track him down, though he stayed on his trail, and the round ended with not much having happened. But the fourth round belonged to Becerra the way the fourteenth belonged to Ali in Manila, except that for Becerra there wasn’t a fifth. He strung together two expert combinations: one consisting of consecutive right hooks, a jab, and an uppercut; the other comprised of a straight left, a right, two left hooks, and a final, insulting right. During that second arrangement he forced Reyes against the ropes again, but this time when he let him off Reyes was finding it difficult to stand. When the bell rang, Becerra turned with his arms raised and the hysterical crowd cheered him back to his corner.

Around me the consensus was that Becerra had won a unanimous decision, and had the fight been scheduled for six, it would have lasted only five. I had the bout scored 40-36, but thought the judges might have given either the first or the third to Reyes. The announcer took up his microphone and looked at the card handed him. He kept his eyes downcast as he began. “After four rounds of boxing,” he said, “we go to the judges’ scorecards.” Becerra, standing to the right of the referee who separated the two fighters, was nodding his head and smiling. He raised his free hand, and as he lifted it, the collective voice of the audience rose. Behind him the announcer said, “The first judge scores the bout 39-38, Becerra.” Someone in the ballroom swung his dercacho, and a chorus of men attached to that ratchet clatter a volley of plaintive, high, hard-voiced cries. Reyes, abandoned by his countrymen, hung his head and chewed his mouthpiece.  Then the announcer continued. “The other two judges scored the bout 38-38, declaring the bout a majority draw.”

The room filled with boos. The referee raised both fighters’ arms which, created a rare and displeasing symmetrical shape in the center of the ring. One victorious fighter’s arm joined in a peak with that of the referee’s, while his opponent’s hangs at waist-level, describes in its structure a necessary imbalance, and all observers expect subconsciously to see it. Perhaps that is why we are attracted to the dynamism of asymmetry in all design—because it conveys dominance and submission—though I assume the intemperate crowd was not decrying the aesthetics of the ceremony. They simply thought, as I did, that Becerra had won.

Articles of 2009

UFC 108 Rashad Evans vs. Thiago Silva

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Former champion Rashad Evans meets Brazil’s venerable Thiago Silva in a non-title belt that can lead to a return match with the current champ, but first things first.

Evans (15-1-1) and Silva (14-1) meet in Ultimate Fighting Championship 108 in a light heavyweight bout on Saturday Jan. 2, at the MGM Grand Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. A win by either fighter could result in a world title bid. The fight card is being shown on pay-per-view television.

Events can change quickly in the Octagon and anybody can beat anybody in the 205-pound weight division. Just ask Silva or Evans.

Silva and Evans are both experienced and can vouch firsthand about the capriciousness of fighting in MMA and especially as a light heavyweight. On one day this man can beat that man and on another day, that man can beat this man. It can make you absolutely daffy.

Evans, 30, is the former UFC light heavyweight world champion who only defended his title on one occasion and lost by vicious knockout to current champion Lyoto Machida of Brazil. It’s the only defeat on his record.

Silva, 27, is a well-rounded MMA fighter from Sao Paolo, Brazil who is versed in jujitsu, Muy Thai and boxing. He can end a fight quickly in a choke hold just as easily as with a kick or a punch. His only loss came to who else: Machida.

Evans and Silva know a win can push open the door to a rematch with current UFC light heavyweight champion Machida.

“A win against Rashad would put me in the track against Lyoto,” said Silva, in a telephone conference call. “That's what – what I want to do.”

When Silva fought Machida the two Brazilians were both undefeated and feared in the MMA world. The fight took place in Las Vegas and with one second remaining in the first round a perfectly timed punch knocked Silva unconscious.

“I was humbled big time, man,” says Silva who fought Machida in January 2009. “I learned a lot from that fight.  I think I can correct the mistakes from that fight, not overlooking anything else right now, but just I want to get the chance to fight him again.”

For Evans it was a different circumstance. The upstate New Yorker held the UFC title and was defending it after stopping then champion Forrest Griffin by knockout. Still, many felt Machida was far too technically versed. Evans was stopped brutally in the second round.

“I've made it a point to not – to not get distracted on what I want to do, because you know Thiago (Silva) is a very hungry fighter,” said Evans who has not fought since losing the title to Machida last May. “My focus is just on Thiago so much.  You know I don't want to overlook him, you know, not even a little bit.”

Dana White, president of UFC, says the winner of this fight could conceivably fight Machida in the near future. Evans and especially Silva are motivated by the open window.

“I learned a lot from that fight. I think I can correct the mistakes from that fight,” says Silva. “Not overlooking anything else right now, but I just want to get the chance to fight him again.”

What a prize. The winner gets to face the man who beat him: Machida.

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Articles of 2009

Ten Boxing Wishes For 2010

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As 2009 comes to a close, one reflects on what went well and what went wrong during the year in boxing. There were many highlights. Pacquiao vs. Cotto and Showtime’s Super Six tournament were part of the best that boxing had to offer. But there were some low points too therefore the industry has some work to do in order to keep generating fans. Here are some suggestions for 2010:

10. Better pay per view cards

Paying 40 to 50 bucks to watch the main event gets old real quick. Why do we have to sit through a horrible under-card to get to the main course? It’s like being fed spam appetizers before the Thanksgiving turkey. It seems that the pay per view promoters just don’t get it. Are they watching what they put on or do they only watch the “big fight” as everyone else is slowly being conditioned to do so?

9. Time to make Julio Cesar Chavez Jr. fight

Okay, I understand he’s the son of one of the greatest fighters that ever lived. But he’s had 42 fights against low to mid level competition and has never managed to look spectacular. It’s time to throw the 23 year old out of the nest to see if he can fly. My suggestion is a fight against Sergio Mora or maybe even Yuri Foreman. Neither of these guys can punch. They may outbox Junior but they won’t totally humiliate him.

8. No more ridiculous Pay Per View mismatches

Floyd Mayweather Jr. vs. Juan Manuel Marquez should’ve never been made. It was a ridiculous fight when it was announced and it was more ridiculous when it took place. Unable to bring Manny Pacquiao to the bargaining table for a third match against Juan Manuel Marquez, someone figured that pairing up the 135 pound champion against a natural 147 pounder like Mayweather would be a great idea. The pay per view generated over a million buys but the fact that millions of people were treated to an incredibly boring mismatch is what’s truly worrisome. I can guarantee you one thing about this card. The sport of boxing lost fans once the show was over and done with. Talk about short term thinking.

7. Chris “The Nightmare” Arreola shows up for a fight in amazing shape

It was painful to see Chris Arreola take a beating from the Ukrainian giant, Vitali Klitscho. The champion certainly earned his “Dr. Ironfist” moniker as he plowed his powerful shots into the former #1 WBC heavyweight contender’s face. He reddened and bloodied the young Mexican American with an assortment of weapons and foot movement seldom seen on a six foot seven inch heavyweight. Arreola was brave and unrelenting in battle. He never stopped coming forward and took chances when he could. His work in the ring at the Staples Center in downtown Los Angeles wasn’t the problem. Where Arreola let himself down was outside the ring. His unwillingness to condition himself into a finely tuned athlete cost him certain immortality as the first ever heavyweight champion of Mexican descent. Arreola has the heart and skills but it was his mental fortitude that broke down. Anyone who’s followed the Riverside fighter knows that his best weight is somewhere in the 230 pound range. It certainly isn’t at the 252 pounds he registered on the scale at the Staples Center.  Those fifteen to twenty extra pounds might have made all the difference in the world. Maybe he would’ve been a little quicker, maybe he could’ve sustained a faster pace in order to tire out the champion. In his most recent fight against Brian Minto, Arreola weighed in at a career high 263. It looks like “The Nightmare” isn’t willing to change for anyone. At this pace, the only nightmares he’ll be providing will be to the management of Hometown Buffets all across Riverside.  Just kidding “Nightmare”!

6. More respect for the lighter weights

Real boxing fans know that the most exciting fighters in the sport are usually found toiling in weight divisions south of 154 pounds. Pacquiao, Cotto, Juan Manuel Marquez, Edwin Valero, Israel Vazquez, Juan Ma Lopez, Vic Darchinyan, Rafael Marquez and countless others have been the real driving force behind this sport. It’s those great fighters that have made boxing fanatics out of casual fans. The heavyweights may get all the money and glory but it’s the little guys who make the sport shine and it’s time they received greater compensation. It’s dismaying to think that a mediocre heavyweight can make three or four times as much as the great Rafael Marquez.

5. An American Heavyweight champion

Speaking of heavyweights, two Americans tried and failed at dethroning Vitali Klitschko this year. Both Kevin Johnson and Chris Arreola did their best to wrestle the belt away from “Dr. Klitschko” but came up short since they were easily outclassed. What happened to the great American Heavyweight? Where’s our new Joe Frazier or Ali? Even a new Gerry Cooney or a Ken Norton would do at this point. I’ve got a feeling that the only way we’re going to see an American champion is if Klitschko retires. My money is on Arreola. Although undisciplined and rough outside the ring, he’s got tons (no pun intended) of natural talent. He’s without a doubt the most talented American heavyweight on the scene.

4. More ShoBox

The Showtime Cable network gave us the best boxing on TV for the price of a cable television subscription. Their ShoBox series has been a proven hit for Senior VP of Sports Programming Ken Hershman. The concept is simple yet brilliant. Match up two up and comers with great records and let’s see what happens. Sometimes the results are surprising. Many have passed the ShoBox test and went on to bigger and better things. Others have been exposed as having padded records and eventually their careers stall and take a dive.

3. More safety in Mexico so I can attend a show without a gun battle breaking out

Having lived near the Tijuana border all my life I’m dismayed at the war zone that the city has evolved into. Every day there are reports of shootings fueled by the drug war trade. Believe it or not, there was a time when Tijuana was safe and most wouldn’t have thought twice about crossing the border for some seafood and nightlife. No more. Having covered several boxing cards on Revolucion Avenue many years ago, I got a taste of just how important the sport is to Mexican fans. It’s also important to me but not that important. For now I’ll stick to covering shows at the Pechanga Casino and in the less dangerous city of L.A. I never thought I’d say that.

2. Pac Man vs. Mayweather

This is the fight everyone wants to see. Seeing how Mayweather dominated Pac Man’s arch enemy, Juan Manuel Marquez, you have to wonder if the Filipino can handle Lil’ Floyd’s speed and size. One thing is for sure, betting against Pacquiao doesn’t usually work out for me. It never has. There’s no future in it. So if the fight gets done it’s Pacquiao by TKO in ten.

1. And finally

One final wish is reserved for all the readers of TheSweetScience.com I wish you all a healthy and happy 2010. Thank you for your continued loyalty to the site. It’s very much appreciated.

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Articles of 2009

A Very Special New Year's Day Column

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It has been just over four months since Nick Charles, the play-by-play announcer for Shobox: The New Generation, was diagnosed with stage IV bladder cancer and forced to take a medical hiatus from the monthly show that has aired since 2001.

Since then he has undergone grueling chemotherapy treatments that have resulted in him losing all of his hair as he forces himself to live as normal of a life as possible. Through sheer force of will, as well as the strength and support that he receives from his wonderfully loving family and his strong Christian faith, the 63-year-old Charles has managed to keep his weight up while not falling prey to the always lingering threats of depression, cynicism and negativity.

If one was unaware that he was battling such an insidious disease, you’d never know from talking on the phone to him that he has been to hell and back. He has lost none of the inspiring energy that has endeared him to members of the boxing community and legions of worldwide viewers.

“I’m doing great,” Charles said during a telephone conversation on December 30th. “I’ve been off the chemo for a month, and the doctors have told me that I’m 80 percent in remission. I’m going to see them again in three months. It may come back, but if it takes one year, or two years, or however long, I’m going to make the most of the good time.”

As physically and emotionally wrenching as the grim diagnosis and subsequent treatment has been, even for someone as perpetually positive as Charles, the longtime announcer said a lot of good things have come from it.

Having been married three times, Charles is the father of four children: Jason, 38, Melissa, 34, Charlotte, 22, and Giovanna, 3 ½.

While Charles is not big on regrets, he is the first to admit that he wasn’t always there for his older children. For many years he traveled the world as a CNN correspondent, often putting the demands of his career above all else, including those closest to him. Nowhere was the strain more evident than in his relationship with Melissa.

Having been divorced from Melissa’s mother since 1977, Charles said his relationship with that daughter has been especially “hot and cold, all of our lives.”

His illness has enabled them to forge a relationship that has been “based on a massive amount of forgiveness and understanding.”

“This has had a tremendous healing effect on both of us,” said Charles. “My illness has had a fortifying effect on a lot of things, the most important of which is my relationships with my family.”

That also includes his first wife, with whom he has had an often acrimonious relationship over the past three decades.

“It took a long time for the scab to become a scar, but we had lunch one day and it was so great to once again see the gentle, soft sides of each other,” he explained. “The whole divorce process creates a hardness that doesn’t always go away.”

Charles is also the grandfather to three children, some of whom are about the same age as his youngest daughter. He jokes that he has a “nuclear 21st century family” because of the similar ages of two generations of children. One of the hardest things for him has been the realization that he can’t always play with them in manner in which he would like.

“The hemoglobin is the fuel in your tank, so when it’s low you can’t will yourself to do things no matter how much you want to,” said Charles. “You can’t just sleep it off or work through it. I don’t want the kids to wonder why I can’t play in the backyard with them, or kick a soccer ball, or throw them in the air.”

Particularly difficult is when Giovanna reminds her father of how handsome he is, but then innocently asks him what happened to his hair, eyebrows and lashes.

“You try to keep things on a need to know basis, which is not easy when dealing with curious kids,” said Charles.

While Charles might look like the kind of guy that things have often come easy to, the reality is that his beginnings were far from auspicious. But, he says, his often challenging Chicago childhood blessed him with the steely resolve that has helped him so much during the arduous journey he is now on.

“I had it pretty rough growing up,” he explained. “I remember the lights and the heat being shut off and eating mustard sandwiches. I went to work at 13 and always had insecurities about the future. But I always expected and saw the best in people, so when I got sick, never once did I say 'Why me?”

Since taking a leave of absence from Shobox, the outpouring of support from the boxing community has warmed Charles’s heart. For a guy that is battling for his life, he actually considers himself fortunate to be surrounded by so much goodness in both his personal and professional lives.

“I always hear that boxing people are ruthless, but I couldn’t disagree more,” said Charles. “I’ve probably received about 1,000 e-mails, and people are always following in sending their best wishes. From the relatively unknown people in boxing to many of the more famous people, there has been an outpouring of true affection.”

Charles said that the Top Rank organization has been exceedingly kind and gracious. He was touched beyond description when he learned that officials in Oklahoma got special permission to have a seamstress sew “Keep Fighting Nick” onto their sleeves. He chokes up when talking about cut man Stitch Duran giving up an endorsement opportunity so he could put Charles’s name on his outfit. He never tires of hearing shout-outs from fighters on television.

Charles has always been a people person with an inordinate faith in the goodness of his fellow man. Battling this illness has only made his already strong faith in humanity even stronger.

“Adversity is a great teacher, and it really teaches you who your genuine friends are,” said Charles. “I have a lot of friends.”

He also has a remarkable wife, Cory, a CNN producer to whom he has been married for 11 years. She is the daughter of an electrician, a self-made woman who exudes all of the warmth of her native Brooklyn. She has reinforced her husband’s spiritual base by her love, optimism and strength of character.

“If I get down, she reminds me to not get too caught up,” said Charles. “I believe in eternity, and that has put me pretty much at peace.”

More than anything else, Charles wants to get himself back behind a microphone sooner rather than later, and hopefully on Shobox. He is the first to admit that viewers “don’t watch the series to see Nick Charles,” but he is proud of the fact that he was “part of the identity” of such a popular show.

“And people love comeback stories,” added Charles. “That’s the message I’m getting from the people out there.”

In boxing the word “champion” is often overused because it pertains only to winning belts and receiving worldwide recognition for being the best at your craft. The reality is that life’s real champions have other qualities, such as the innate ability to treat people well and always make them feel better about themselves, especially when the recipients of the goodwill are in no position to give them anything back.

By that standard of measure, Charles is as much, if not more of a champion than all of the boxers he has covered during the nine years that Shobox has been on the air.

I know I speak for scores of others when I say, “Happy New Year, Champ. We hope that you are the comeback story of the year in 2010.”

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