Articles of 2009

Brute 8: I Guess You Get A Few Days Off

Published

16 years ago

February 23, 2009

The forthcoming book “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.

Over the next few months 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. –KS

Between the third and fourth round, Eric Regan was in front of Simms swinging a towel to cool his fighter down, but the referee noticed it and yelled for Regan to quit. Simms looked exhausted, and when he stood up for the fourth he appeared, at least by how he moved on his failing legs, as if he'd taken the majority of the punches. And throughout the fourth he did take all the punches. For two and a half minutes he did not punch at Harmon once. At one point he had his back against the ropes, and I thought of Ali in Manila guarding his face and ribs in the third while Frazier tried to cut him in a half. But whereas Ali, the preeminent showman, was toying with Frazier and bounced off the ropes with a combination of punches that in my rosy memory numbers in the hundreds, Simms just stood and got hit. “Way to stall, baby!” someone yelled. I would have scored it ten-eight for Harmon if Simms looked as if he'd been hurt by anything. But at the bell he looked better than he had at the beginning of the round.

In the lull before the fifth Niavaroni was in the ring, screaming at Simms and slapping him on the thighs. An older woman with blond hair and a straw cowboy hat came over and introduced herself to Martyniouk. “I wanted to say hello,” she said. “I'm Karen. I know all the boys. Mike, Otis. All of them.” Martyniouk shook her hand politely and then she went on, “I'm with the cowboy over there.” She pointed into the crowd. I did not see a cowboy. She looked up at the ring. Niavaroni was yelling through the ropes at Simms. “I could kick his ass,” said Karen. She was quite drunk.

The fifth began with a soft clash of heads. The fighters tied up, and after the referee separated them Harmon threw a few glancing shots. “Come on, Mike,” said Martyniouk. “Let it go.” I was glad to see that Martyniouk was supporting Simms, but it did not bode well for Simms that he needed instruction from the gallery. Simms started attacking Harmon's midsection, but he left his head exposed. That inspired Harmon, as one might expect, to hit him there. A while later Simms was back on the ropes, head hidden behind his gloves, taking whatever Harmon had to give. One of the round girls passed in front of us on the floor. The four of us—myself, Martyniouk, Mehrad, and Gerrell—all stopped watching the bout for a moment. Martyniouk called to her, and she turned. “You're at Tokyo Fro's during the week, right?” he asked.

“I wait tables there,” she said.

“Angela, right?” asked Martyniouk.

“Right,” said Angela. She sat down, then glanced back over her shoulder at Martyniouk, smiling. We all looked at Martyniouk, and he nodded confidently.

The round had almost ended while we were distracted watching Angela, but it was clear we hadn't missed anything. Simms finished the fifth plodding in his slow circles, as if his legs, which before the fight were empty casts, had slowly filled with bronze. He finished hard, but he was throwing sloppy punches. Suspecting Simms hadn't done anything sublime while I was preoccupied, such as knock his opponent down again, I gave the round to Harmon. Therefore, I had Simms trailing by one and needing ten in the sixth to achieve a draw.

Regan and Niavaroni were both kneeling before Simms during the interval. I supposed they were telling him that he needed the last round if he wanted any chance at a decision. Harmon's corner must have told him the same thing, and when Harmon came out he tried to get inside with Simms. But he got little done there, and swallowed a straight right as he disengaged. Simms followed that with a myriad of punches, many of which landed, and I did not know what reserves he was tapping for this energy. Perhaps he had discovered something about recuperation while meditating in the fourth. His head movement was good, and he used his jab repeatedly to set up a cousin of the left that had knocked Harmon down in the first. But the lefts in the sixth were, by some reversal of maturity, less fledged than they had been earlier. Simms got hit a couple times, but since the first, it was the only round he'd clearly won.

At the bell there was nothing much to cheer. The decision promised to be a close one, which always keeps a sectarian crowd quiet, and for the few neutral observers in the room, after the first round, and until the sixth, the fight had not been an entertaining one, especially in comparison to the preceding bouts. On my card I had the thing a draw, 57-57, and when the announcer read the first judge's decision 57-56, I decided he must have given my even round to Simms. I expected, for some morbid reason, that the other two would move in favor of Harmon.

“The other judges both score the bout 58-55,” said the announcer, “for the winner, by unanimous decision, The Famous Mike Simms.”

I felt relieved. I would have thought I'd be elated, but for those who take competition seriously, for whom there is little qualitative difference between a man's victory in a boxing match and a political race, seeing your fighter win is tantamount to hearing from a doctor that your sore throat is bacterial and not viral. It is a small success because the pain of anticipation is still there unless the fighter is retiring that night with a glorious record. At such a point both the fighter and fan can sigh contentedly. Until then it is a chain of horrors.

I told Mehrad and Gerrell that I would return momentarily, and went back towards the dressing room to speak with Simms. As I walked I thought that the decision had gone Simms' way because we were in Sacramento, and if we'd been in Chicago or Germany or Russia, he would have lost 57-56, despite the knockdown. But we weren't in Asia or Europe or the Middle West, and Simms had scraped through. After the knockdown he'd fought almost irresolutely, showing less skill as a boxer, and more his ability to stand inside with an opponent, without fighting back, all the while without getting hurt. It was almost marvelous.

I found Simms in one of the small conference rooms that had been converted into dressing quarters for the fighters. He was on the floor, knees up, elbows on his knees, head between his thighs. “How are you doing?” I asked. I used the tone of voice I might have used to greet a friend's child who had spent the night in the hospital after losing his appendix. It was a patronizing tone, and I felt embarrassed to have used it.

“Dehydrated,” said Simms. “Cut weight too much at the last minute.”

“You got through it, though,” I said. “How do you feel? I mean, how did you feel in the fight?”

“I was feeling strong. At times I was feeling cramps, like I couldn't bend my legs the way I wanted to, to dig down.” That didn't sound particularly strong, but I didn't want to interrupt him. “In the fight I really wanted to focus on the body, as well as, you know, box. I knew going in I was gonna take one of those rounds off. And the round I did take off—”

“The fourth,” I interrupted.

“I think so,” he said. I had broken his train of thought and he did not get the cars re-coupled.

“At least in one judge's opinion,” I said, “coming out in the sixth round, and pushing like you did, was the difference in the fight. The others had it more in favor of you. But man, you were this close.” I put my left hand up with my index finger and thumb an inch apart to show, in linear terms, how far he'd been from knocking Harmon out. Simms nodded gravely. He would also have liked to skip the other five rounds. I went on, “You said you were gonna come out firing, and you almost had him in that first round. You dropped him.”

“I didn't think he was gonna get up,” said Simms.

“I don't think any of us did. We thought it was gonna be a three knockout night. Almost three first-round knockouts. There were three first-round knockdowns.”

“I hurt Harmon with a small, left uppercut to the midsection,” said Simms. “Right in the belly. And he went, 'Oooh.' But I didn't dig it. I just shot a quick little shot. Just touched him there.”

I wasn't sure what that comment was related to, but I could see how exhausted he was, and as if he'd just come out of anesthesia after surgery, I wanted to let him get back to sleep. “Well, Mike,” I said, “You got the win.”

“Yeah,” he said. He was exhausted. His hands were still wrapped from the fight.

“I guess you get a few days off from the gym.”

“Yeah,” he said, and at that he smiled.

I shook his hand and walked out of the dressing room. I was fatigued, much less, of course, than Simms, but tired from the week. Otis Griffin was still scheduled to fight, but I had little interest in that outcome. I went, nonetheless, into the ballroom, and stood waiting for the bell.

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Kaelan Smith

Articles of 2009

UFC 108 Rashad Evans vs. Thiago Silva

Published

15 years ago

December 31, 2009

David A. Avila

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

Published

15 years ago

December 30, 2009

Ralph Gonzalez

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

Published

15 years ago

December 30, 2009

Robert Mladinich

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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