Cus D’Amato once said, “When
two men are fighting, what you’re watching is more a contest of wills than of
skills, with the stronger will usually overcoming the skill.”
On Saturday night in Carson,
Calif., Erislandy Lara’s demonstrative advantage of skill over Alfredo Angulo
only served to inflame Angulo’s reserve of willpower. The elegance of Lara’s
skills simply weren’t capable of removing Angulo’s will from the equation of
the fight. Then, in the fourth round, Angulo’s fiendish efforts were rewarded
when he dropped Lara, the first knockdown Lara has suffered as a professional.
For the duration of the round, every fan in attendance stood to roar approval.
Round after round, Angulo took even more risks, applying pressure and striving
to close out the fight while eating enough leather to reconfigure his face.
Again Angulo dropped Lara, yet the Cuban got off the deck to continue.
In the 10th round,
Angulo ate nearly everything Lara threw at him in order to land something
meaningful of his own. Then a crisp left hand from Lara struck the swelling
over Angulo’s eye. Angulo grimaced as another left followed, then another, and
finally the referee called off the bout, fearing a broken orbital bone.
Boos. Beer tossed into the
ring. “Tijuana style!” a writer next to me laughed. Everywhere you looked,
aggrieved faces contorted in expressions of betrayal.
It was all a little
incomprehensible to me. Everyone on hand had enjoyed a brilliant fight stopped
only after one fighter’s health was gravely in danger.
Boos?
Wait a minute. When exactly
was enough enough? What was the expectation here?
Victor Ortiz quit against both
of Saturday’s headliners, Marcos Maidana and Josesito Lopez. Were those
unreasonable decisions? In one of those fights, Ortiz’s jaw was broken in two
places. Should he have been booed for not fighting on with a broken jaw, as
Muhammad Ali did against Ken Norton? Ali was praised for such courage. Oscar De
La Hoya was fully capable of getting off his stool to continue against Manny
Pacquiao, yet sensibly recognized the futility. Does he get a pass? At the
time, his corner asked if he felt like continuing, and Oscar didn’t launch much
of a protest when it was suggested he not bother. Joe Frazier was legally blind
in the only good eye he had left against Ali in the “Thrilla in Manilla.” Was
his trainer, Eddie Futch, right to call off the fight? Did Futch betray his
fighter?
What about the most famous
quitter in boxing history? Is Duran’s “No Mas” a more defining moment in his
career than his victory over Sugar Ray Leonard in their first fight? For many,
it is. Mike Tyson notoriously looked for a way out against Evander Holyfield when
it was clear Holyfield had his number. Suddenly, Tyson’s cowardice in gnawing
off Holyfield’s ear overshadowed nearly everything he had accomplished as a
fighter. Twice, Andrew Golota snatched defeat from the jaws of victory against
Riddick Bowe when he swung gratuitously low. His career never recovered.
So in boxing, when is it
acceptable to quit? How much abuse is a fighter expected to endure before he
can be allowed to show some concern for his own welfare? Anyone who has been
around fighters knows they all share the same secret: They are more afraid of
embarrassment and humiliation than injury. Do fans and writers use this fact
against them in what we celebrate or criticize?
In the documentary “Facing
Ali,” nearly half the fighters involved required subtitles despite speaking
English, their speech slurred by the physical toll of their ring lives. This
was their reward for testing their furthermost physical and mental boundaries.
As Guillero Rigondeaux’s
recent near-shutout of 2012 ESPN.com fighter of the year Nonito Donaire
demonstrated, the days of fans cheering Willie Pep for winning a round without
throwing a punch are long over. Arturo Gatti’s induction into the Boxing Hall
of Fame is further testament of boxing giving fans what they clearly reserve
their loudest cheers for: fighters who lay their lives on the line at every
possible moment of every fight. The truth is, fighters have always done this.
We just didn’t used to boo the ones who committed the cardinal sin of trying to
minimize some of the risk. (Source)
