By Jim Cawkwell
In most walks of life it is a given that money talks while bullshit walks. In boxing, money talks, writes continuous encyclopedia-sized volumes about its own adventures, and holds daily mocking sessions at the University of Hard Knocks. Meanwhile, bullshit is currently undergoing evaluation for the position of Lord High Commander of the Boxing Universe.
Sinister influences have a way of making their presences known.
Once, whilst attending a funeral viewing, I was asked by a relative how I felt. Not given to insensitive slips of the tongue, I was dismayed when the words “Dead tired,” escaped my lips unedited. Such as some Lucifer-esque imp invaded my sensibilities that day, so have money and bullshit enveloped Las Vegas over the last forty-eight hours.
Of the many expectations and possibilities surrounding this weekend’s fight, none of them involved Ricardo Mayorga’s abrupt transformation into Oliver Twist. The “Please Sir, I’d like some more,” ploy scarcely works when you have already signed a contract for a guaranteed amount.
Bernard Hopkins was the last fighter to attempt such a thing, though he could have beaten Robert Allen if Lou DiBella was the referee. Nevertheless, Hopkins’ stubbornness protested the assignment of Joe Cortez as far as the promise of a future ten-figure pay day would allow.
Certainly, Mayorga is the champion, but a fight with Oscar de la Hoya means that none of the usual purse split protocols apply. De La Hoya is the draw, boasting a pay-per-view history certain to remain an intimidating measuring stick for years to come.
The two-million-dollars that Mayorga stands to earn win, lose or draw seems appropriate given his current career standing and the overall size of the average De La Hoya fight. Therefore, it’s unlikely that Don King will have implemented some fiendish scheme to swindle Mayorga.
Made clear from the beginning of this promotion was the involvement of sponsors such as Ice Link Watches and the always pleasing combination of Bacardi and Coca Cola. Such names attached to the event, in addition to the promise of a higher-than-average pay-per-view buy rate plus the takings from the actual gate means that there is some serious money flying around this fight; of which Mayorga realizes he is due to collect but a small percentage.
Understandably then, Mayorga would feel vindicated in holding out for more while so many feast at such a bountiful table.
But it’s difficult to think that Mayorga has been a professional fighter all this time and does not understand the nature of a signed contract, nor the futility in trying to haggle his way to a higher price come fight week.
It’s impossible to conceive that Mayorga, after offending De La Hoya in every way possible, expected boxing’s “Golden Boy” to extend him a six-million-dollar olive branch.
It’s unthinkable that Mayorga would dare to pull out of a fight worth so much while knowing the massive damage it would inflict upon his career. Mayorga would be fined for all he’s worth and blackballed from any future fight card of consequence; annihilating his earning potential.
With the failure to extract a greater sum from any of the involved sources, expect exclusive photo footage of Mayorga snatching as many promo samples of Bacardi as possible while eyeing those little yellow helmets presented as part of the “Danger Zone” promotion theme for an appearance on E-Bay.
Satan will ice-skate to work before this fight justifies King’s outlandish proclamation of two-million pay-per-view buys. Satan…..King - subconscious association I presume.
Theoretically then, with pay-per-view numbers not looking good for a fight few cared to see, it’s not impossible that the whole thing was a ruse dreamt up to boost sales and make the media sweat a little more than usual while King, De La Hoya and Mayorga drank coffee and giggled in a secluded coffee and giggling area.
Six-million is a figure that grabs headlines. It’s so unrealistic that it excites even educated fight-goers to contemplate the rationale behind Mayorga’s claims. However, Mayorga would likely be subdued by one of King’s late night deli jaunts with a side order of swag in a bag.
If this is a plan, and it is successful, it might tease the often perverse nature of the human condition into full swing as ticket holders suddenly flock to a fight they cared little about with a vengeance for fear of it being taken away from them.
They’ll want to see the fight and no amount of controversy will stop them. In fact, while they wait, they can always blow the kids’ college fund in one of those warm and welcoming casinos. You only live once.
The controversy of the last two days may serve to boost interest in the fight, but it does nothing to increase Mayorga’s prospects. Mayorga’s chances of victory are between slim and none, and slim is out of town getting a stomach staple after a twelve-week camp on the James Toney diet.
Performing an array of scathing assaults upon your opponent for weeks then groveling to him for real or not surrenders any psychological advantage. Mayorga is favored now only as a superior puncher, which in itself counts for little as he possesses neither the speed nor the craft to make that power tell against a vastly more accomplished boxer in De La Hoya.
It’s already an event that we will not soon forget, and it will be infinitely memorable if Time’s terrible truth wields its spell over De La Hoya and renders him vulnerable to Mayorga’s inevitable swings.
Anything is possible; unlikely, but possible.
So tomorrow, we’ll see what gems Mayorga has in store for us at the weigh-in. Perhaps he’ll proclaim his allegiance to the Church of Scientology before requesting to eat the afterbirth of Lennox Lewis’s children. Or maybe this whole thing will start to feel more like a fight than a circus.
Stranger things have happened in boxing - constantly.
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