Boxing: a business deal

The world awaited, and was left wondering. Perhaps that may be the most apt description to yesterday’s fight between new world champion Floyd Mayweather Jr. and Oscar de la Hoya. It seemed that the Golden Boy was the aggressor throughout the match, with Mayweather getting his licks primarily in the last two rounds. It appeared Oscar had been the busier of the two, throwing more punches, keeping his undefeated opponent on the ropes and in the corner more. Then he lost the bout on a split decision.

Some observers were starting to compare the two to Ali vs Frazier, perhaps setting the stage for a rematch or two (or three). But the flaw in that script is that it was Ali who was originally the lighter fighter (light heavyweight Olympic champion in 1960) and Frazier the heavier (Olympic heavyweight gold medalist in 1964). They fought professionally as natural heavyweights, while Mayweather had to move up to challenge De la Hoya for his belt. Secondly, in terms of pure savagery, there was no comparison. Frazier hated Ali with venom in his every word, whether or not the media were around, and that hatred has only cooled in the last few intervening years.

I would rather compare the bout to the "Rumble in the Jungle", wherein Ali faced the daunting task of beating George Foreman (the 1968 Olympic heavyweight champion) in Zaire. Foreman had demolished Frazier, sending him to the canvas six times in the first two rounds. How would Ali (who had lost to Frazier) be able to stand up to such carnage?

Angelo Dundee devised the famous "rope-a-dope" strategy, wherein Ali would stay on the ropes, bobbing and weaving, letting Foreman throw his haymakers and tire himself out. Ali would lean on Big George’s neck and shoulders to further tire him, and let the punches glance off his slippery gloves and arms. By the eighth round, the immature and one-dimensional Foreman was ripe for a blitzkrieg that knocked him out. That bears more of a comparison with what Mayweather did in keeping his record spotless.

De la Hoya remains undiminished, however. He had not fought in a year, and accounted for himself well, if a little ploddingly. And whatever happens, he has made his millions, the total sum of which the public will never know. He now straddles the two worlds of promoter and attraction, and it seems that no one of note has questioned the conflict of interest therein. De la Hoya the promoter will have a longer shelf life than De la Hoya the boxer, but the latter has been a genius at picking glamorous opponents just past their prime, and at their most vulnerable. That has been his reputation in annexing half a dozen weight divisions. The fact that, win or lose, he will make a fortune, makes it appear that his opponents could be recruited as business partners, though I doubt that Mayweather would allow himself to be a pawn after the hardship he has endured, and the thirst for respect he still longs to quench.

How did such a curious (and probably questionable) situation come about?

Until the early 1980’s, world title fights were held in largely public venues like Madison Square Garden and other sports facilities, open to the common spectator. Boxers were thus fighting in front of appreciative and knowledgeable fights fans, who appreciated effort of each pug, and even applauded losers who fought gallantly.

The only problem with that situation was that promoters were paying rent, albeit in many cases, a mere drop in the bucket for most of them. Then casino and hotel chains entered the picture. Boxing became a venue for them to fly in a host (at their expense, and in their most expensive suites) all the high rollers who would, in turn, gamble away millions of dollars in their hosts’ gaming areas. Boxing thus became a means to an end, and excuse for big-time gamblers to come to town.

The audience profile thus changed. Gone is the man on the street paying a few of his hard-earned dollars to cheer on his favorite, hard-working slugger. Now, a whole sea of tense, jeering bloodthirsty bettors, screaming for their money’s worth, never mind if somebody gets killed in the ring. Boxers, too, became more businesslike. It has become a show, although there are some boxers and promoters striving for reform.

This is the environment that the astute Oscar de la Hoya’s career flourished in. Now you wonder what it must have been like for the Washington Wizards when team president Michael Jordan became teammate Michael Jordan. You get the picture.

In a way, it also protects the boxers, because it gives them more avenues to earn from their painfully short careers. On the other hand, you have to wonder which hat a boxer like De la Hoya wears when he is in the ring: promoter or boxer, ringmaster or headliner. For a boxer, losing would be anathema. For a promoter, it could build demand for a rematch or a trilogy, even.

Yesterday’s fight was a boost for Floyd Mayweather Jr.’s career, even though it did appear to some of us that he didn’t do as much to win. Be that as it may, there will definitely be another fight. And I hope that Golden Boy checks his hat in at the door.