Another Bernard Hopkins Win, Another Memorable Visit
By Lyle Fitzsimmons
The grave marker says he died long before the opening bell.
But I for one happen to know that Johnny Sample was alive and well Saturday night.
Because he was pouring through my computer on press row at the Bell Centre.
Oh sure, the former Super Bowl winner’s decomposed carcass was being channeled more vibrantly by my good friend Tom Thompson via instant message, but as Bernard Hopkins was dominating late round after late round against Jean Pascal in the evening’s late going, it was Sample’s voice I was hearing from my keyboard.
“C’mon now, you’re forgetting who he’s in there with. That’s B-Hop,” my cyber visitor repeatedly insisted. “He’s not normal like the rest of us. He’s a living legend.”
The voice got louder as the night went on.
And after a while, it was 2001 all over again.
I first met Mr. Sample 10 years ago, when, with a haze of dust and smoke still hanging over Lower Manhattan, former newspaper colleague Todd Thorpe and I headed to Madison Square Garden to see Hopkins meet Felix Trinidad for the WBC, WBA and IBF middleweight title belts.
Todd and I had debated the likely outcomes for the duration of our New Jersey Transit train ride into Penn Station that evening, with me forecasting a decisive win for Tito and him expecting a much closer fight that in the end could go either way based on circumstance and good fortune.
We saw - or, more appropriately, heard - the other side when we got to the press table.
Camped out amid a pile of notes, pads and pens was the 64-year-old ex-New York Jet, studiously prepping for his role as a post-fight radio commentator and, after the requisite introductions, more than happy to share a litany of pre-fight opinions with a pair of card-carrying “Executioner” cynics.
Funny, I never did ask how exactly being a defensive back qualifies one as a boxing journalist.
“Don’t forget, he ’s in there with a man tonight,” Sample said vociferously, contrasting Hopkins’s trademark sturdiness with the relative ease in which Trinidad’s previous foes had fallen. “Bernard’s been through the wars. Bernard’s had a hard life. That’s going to matter in there. Wait and see.”
I nodded politely, while secretly thinking my table mate had made a few too many hard tackles.
By the end of the night, of course… the old man was proven clairvoyant.
And it could just as well have been him again Saturday.
In spite of that New York memory and his many years of subsequent resume-padding, I went into the Pascal match blindly thinking - again - that the young man’s power and aggression would surely offset the lingering guile or tactics Hopkins still carried in a five months past 46-year-old satchel.
My Tuesday column prediction on the way in:
“More determined Pascal erases doubt from initial meeting.”
In my mind, it was already mission accomplished.
I said so again the morning of the fight, calling for Bernard’s head by decisive decision.
Of course, little did I know I’d be sharing diet sodas with Sample’s specter a few hours later.
The aforementioned Tom crashed through the desktop with a familiar pro-Hopkins harangue, citing the old man’s run of 20 title-fight wins at middleweight, insisting he’d deserved both losing decisions against Jermain Taylor and reminding us of a 2010 back and forth against Pascal in similar hostile territory.
I shouted down him down through the undercard and a pair of anthems, but the tenor changed dramatically by the end of the main event’s initial half, during which the Philadelphian showed thudding power and a stay-off-the-floor resilience he’d not displayed while tumbling twice in the first go-round.
“The dude’s already confused. Bernard’s toying with him,” a playful Tom opined, insightfully likening the Haitian turned Canadian’s befuddlement to a man unknowingly coming home to a familiar house where all the furniture’s been moved into different rooms. “If he could get out of there right now, he would.”
If I hadn’t known any better, I’d have sworn it was a Johnny 2001 redux.
“He’s in there with a Superman tonight,” the apparition might’ve said. “You’ve got to learn to listen.”
No argument there, sir, but something tells me you’ll have to remind me at least once more.
During a wide-ranging press conference in the arena’s nether regions, Hopkins told dozens of long-time American followers alongside crestfallen local media that he’d covet the chance at a bout with Lucien Bute, recognized by many as the legitimate king of the 168-pounders on Showtime.
“I might as well let the cat out of the bag," said Hopkins, in a post-midnight media conference. "I'm going to give you all some shows before I'm done. I'm going to remind you all of Ray Robinson and Jersey Joe Walcott and Ezzard Charles and show you what some old-school boxing can look like.”
If they sidestep cable contractual issues and get it signed, he’ll be back on enemy turf by Christmas.
"I think any city in Canada would support (me). I think I have a lot of fans in Canada. That's the man in me. That's the courage in me. That means I have to be on my game. I'm not bragging, but how many people do you know who would rise to that challenge? I'm an overachiever."
And though I’m sure I’ll regret it, I’ll say here that there’s no way Bernard beats him.
The faster, younger transplanted Romanian outworks him precisely like Pascal wanted to do.
But based on my ability to see the future, there’s really only one true certainty either way.
Hey Johnny, I'll see you again soon.
* * * * * * * * * *
This week’s title-fight schedule:
No fights scheduled.
Last week’s picks: 0-2
Overall picks record: 207-73 (73.9 percent)
Lyle Fitzsimmons has covered professional boxing since 1995 and written a weekly column for Boxing Scene since 2008. He is a full voting member of the Boxing Writers Association of America. Reach him at fitzbitz@msn.com or follow him at www.twitter.com/fitzbitz .
