by David P. Greisman
Oscar De La Hoya’s friends, those boxers and businessmen, those promoters and professionals, sat in the few ringside rows, hushed, stunned, certain that he who was once Golden would soon only be gone.
Manny Pacquiao’s fans in the stands rose from their seats to their feet, aware, from a distance, that the moment was close. Expectation begot exhilaration, exclamation, a collective roar for he who would continue to be their conquering hero.
Thirty minutes of emotion gave way to 60 seconds of catharsis.
There sat De La Hoya, framed by a red corner and red ropes to match the markings on his cheeks. Above those, his eyes wandered from person to person, like a newborn in unfamiliar surroundings, glancing toward the anticipatory murmurs coming from the crowd, looking at the physician, the referee and his trainer, all speaking of that which was to be the end.
Beyond the heaving of his chest as he caught his breath, De La Hoya was motionless. Between, beyond the one-word responses, he was speechless.
He was overwhelmed. He was over.
What would have been a bell to restart the action was instead clanging that signaled the conclusion. De La Hoya rose from his stool and trudged, gloves at his side, toward the man who walked on clouds, whose hands were now raised in the air.
“You’re still my idol, whatever happens,” Pacquiao said before De La Hoya left the ring, ceding the stage, the spotlight.
“No, now you’re my idol,” De La Hoya responded, passing the torch.
Seven-and-a-half years before, Pacquiao had traveled from the Philippines to this very arena, the MGM Grand in Las Vegas, where he made his American debut, capturing a junior-featherweight belt on the same card that De La Hoya won a junior-middleweight title by beating Javier Castillejo.
So much had changed since.
Pacquiao quickly graduated from undercards to main events, challenging and defeating the best fighters in the 126- and 130-pound divisions. He grew from a one-dimensional slugger into a well-rounded boxer-puncher. He promised excitement and was still in his prime.
De La Hoya had decelerated, no longer fighting full-time but rather presiding, between headline bouts, over his own promotional company. He would often hold out for the biggest events, hand-selecting his foes but falling short against top-flight opponents.
His diminishing abilities mattered little, for he could still parlay his past into paychecks, drawing tens of thousands of fans and hundreds of thousands of pay-per-view buys. There would always be others who deserved attention, but none who had the same box-office appeal. De La Hoya remained a revered figure. The revenue he produced left him worshipped.
Absent his replacement, the Golden Boy became a Golden Calf.
Every subsequent fight added another eight digits to his bank account. The spirit of competition may have kept De La Hoya from retirement; the money didn’t hurt either.
But he was a part-time fighter whose reflexes, skills and stamina were no longer close to world class. Against those who could capitalize on his flaws, this Golden Calf was but an idle threat; he would be dead meat.
Size matters, but speed kills. Bernard Hopkins had faster hands and faster feet than Kelly Pavlik. Joe Calzaghe had quicker hands and quicker reflexes than Roy Jones. Chad Dawson had faster hands and more stamina than Antonio Tarver. All won easily.
Manny Pacquiao began his career in 1995 at 106 pounds. He was 16 at the time, and as he grew older, he grew into the 112-, 122- and 126-pound decisions. He carried enough pop in his fists at 130 to do damage to others the same size. And in his lightweight debut in June, he held a distinct advantage in speed over David Diaz.
The De La Hoya fight was to be at welterweight. Pacquiao would be bigger than ever, but he still would be faster than De La Hoya. And though the Golden Boy was of a higher class and at a higher weight class than Diaz, Pacquiao would still be able to do the same at 147 as he had at 135.
Pacquiao’s movement left De La Hoya offensively impotent, kept him from getting off. Pacquiao would circle to his left, away from De La Hoya’s jab and his best punch, the left hook. He darted in and out of range, pot-shotting De La Hoya with lead left hands from his southpaw stance, making him miss and then responding with effective combinations.
De La Hoya landed 32 jabs over eight rounds. As for landed power punches, he never hit double digits in a single round, going 51 of 164 for a 31 percent connect rate. On the night, De La Hoya threw a total of 402 shots, only 83 of which hit their target.
Pacquiao, meanwhile, saw that De La Hoya couldn’t handle his speed, couldn’t block his shots, couldn’t adjust. Pacquiao’s worst round was the first, when he threw 47 punches and landed 11. Even then, he went 9 for 18 with his power punches, a 50 percent connect rate that would wind up as his lowest of the night.
Pacquiao sent out jabs but rarely landed them. He didn’t need to, not when he was hitting De La Hoya with 59 percent of his 333 thrown power punches, including an astonishing 32 of 47 in the fourth round and 45 of 76 in the seventh stanza.
By the end of that round, the Golden Calf resembled another hoofed animal – De La Hoya was a deer that had been caught in the headlights and was now wounded, waiting to be put out of his misery.
In the eighth, Pacquiao trapped De La Hoya on the ropes, digging into his body and then following upstairs. De La Hoya made it back to the center of the ring, but his jabs, like nearly everything else from him that night, seemed tentative. Pacquiao remained aggressive, forcing De La Hoya back to ring’s edge before easing up, retreating to the middle as if he was taking pity on him.
De La Hoya threw a wide, slow shoeshine combination to Pacquiao’s sides, and then tossed in a few punches up higher, few of which landed, none of which did any damage. Pacquiao clapped his gloves above his head to show he wasn’t hurt, pressured De La Hoya into the blue corner and then wailed away until the bell rang.
Those who had come in support of De La Hoya sat as the Golden Boy now did, hushed, stunned, accepting that this was the end. Those there for Pacquiao stood, rising for the idol who had risen out of the Philippines, the idol who carried a country on his shoulders.
For one evening these two stars, one glowing, one now just glimmering, shared the squared circle. By the night’s end only one belonged.
The 10 Count
1. The fight itself was spectacular to watch despite its one-sided action. Everything else, from the selling of the fight to the mainstream coverage to the pay-per-view undercard, provided an example of why the biggest obstacle keeping boxing from growing in America is itself.
2. Salaries in The Sweet Science have increased to the point where, like in the National Hockey League several years ago, the athletes are riding high while the sport is sinking. Yes, the high-priced tickets for Pacquiao-De La Hoya sold out promptly, but apparently a majority of those buyers were brokers who soon found themselves having difficulty convincing people to drop big bucks while the economy was in the middle of tanking.
This blue-collar sport locks out so many fans from being able to see fights live. And if they want to watch boxing at home, they must pay for premium cable networks and, seemingly more than ever before, for pay-per-view broadcasts. Pacquiao-De La Hoya came at a price of $55, or, if you wanted to see it in high-definition, $65.
Beyond shows featuring Roy Jones-Felix Trinidad, Pacquiao-Juan Manuel Marquez and Antonio Margarito-Miguel Cotto, this year’s pay-per-view offerings have come in with astonishingly low buy rates. More recently, Jones’ fight with Joe Calzaghe and Bernard Hopkins’ bout with Kelly Pavlik both bombed.
And yet boxing sticks to the same formula because the proceeds from site fees, ticket sales and pay-per-views are necessary for covering the cost of superstars’ multimillion-dollar paydays.
3. Comparatively, the mixed martial artists in the UFC are tremendously underpaid. Yet that sport seems far healthier for the future than does boxing. Those who tuned in Saturday to the Pacquiao-De La Hoya pay-per-view saw three undercard fights featuring future stars in uncompetitive bouts. The first two hours of programming saw less than five rounds of action, a total of 11 minutes and 41 seconds of house fighters barely breaking a sweat in victory.
4. HBO was either unable or unwilling to air undercard bouts in the gap before the contracted Pacquiao-De La Hoya start time. That left the crew in the unenviable position of finding a way to fill airtime with talk, interviews and footage from the combatants’ previous bouts, all while those at home hoped their $55 (or $65 investment) would prove worthwhile once the main event finally came around.
This was boxing’s most hyped show of the year. Compare that to the UFC’s show last month featuring Randy Couture and Brock Lesnar. When the advertised fights ended quickly, there were exciting undercard fights taped earlier in the night that kept fans in front of their televisions. Viewers ended up seeing a total of nine fights in about three hours. Only one of those went the distance, and that one was a three-round slugfest.
People who buy UFC pay-per-views are paying for an entire show. Yes, they are drawn in by the main event, but there are also strong undercard bouts, plus preliminaries that maintain interest despite their lack of star power.
People who buy boxing pay-per-views are basically gambling that the main event will be good, that the match wasn’t just put on pay-per-view since it involves two stars whose purses can only be paid through hundreds of thousands of $50 purchases, but also because the fight will be good, too.
5. Though Pacquiao-De La Hoya had more hype than any other fight this year, it was far from the most important. But in no way did, say, Israel Vazquez-Rafael Marquez 3 or Margarito-Cotto receive anywhere near the mainstream attention that could have brought in viewers and sold them on the brilliance of the sport rather than the brightness of the spectacle.
ESPN, for example, ran items on Pacquiao-De La Hoya on its bottom line, giving people the tale of the tape and background on their past major fights. And its various talking heads did their jobs, though, sadly, they did little beyond cursory research before spouting off on something they clearly knew little about.
It’s bad enough knowing that people tune in to watch Skip Bayless opine on the latest thing, which he will then sink his claws into with all the intelligence of Tom Cruise telling Matt Lauer about the history of psychology. One doubts Bayless had seen a single Pacquiao fight before.
6. Sadly, the same might need to be said for the two who should be standard bearers, Tony Kornheiser and Michael Wilbon of “Pardon the Interruption.” This scribe holds both in high regard, especially Wilbon, who says he has followed the sport for quite some time.
Yet their opinions on this matter were underdeveloped when the two came to debate whether Pacquiao-De La Hoya would be longer or shorter than five rounds. Kornheiser pointed out that De La Hoya hadn’t had a fight last less than five rounds in quite some time, while Wilbon said Pacquiao was “tough.” Sigh.
And let’s not forget Kornheiser’s contention that “Pacquiao normally weighs 105 pounds” went by without being corrected.
The mainstream outlets barely cover boxing because it has become a niche sport. But it will remain a niche sport for as long as it receives this quantity – and quality – of coverage.
7. Boxers Behaving Badly: A super middleweight just two bouts into his career appeared in court last week on charges that he took his fighting into an unlicensed arena, according to east England’s Peterborough Evening Telegraph.
Tariq Quaddus, 18, was allegedly one of two people to attack a pair of men. He is charged with one count of causing grievous bodily harm with intent and two charges of battery. He did not enter a plea, and he was released on bail. His next hearing is scheduled for April.
Quaddus is listed on BoxRec.com as having made his pro debut at the end of October, a four-round points win over some dude with a 5-21-1 record named Jamie Ambler. That was followed three weeks later with a third-round knockout loss against some dude with a 5-19-2 record named Tony Randell.
8. “The Contender” returned last week with its fourth season, spotlighting cruiserweights on its third network, Versus. There is a new host in Tony Danza and a new backdrop in Singapore, yet the fights are still edited down and shot with close-ups and camera switches that confuse the viewer and make it difficult to follow what’s truly going on.
For producer Mark Burnett, it seems, boxing is a means to the end – the elimination, the tribe having spoken, the Donald putting his hands out and saying, “You’re fired,” the hanging of the gloves in yet another repetitive, symbolic ceremony. The contestants are boxers. Why not give people a true idea of what they do? Once again, the UFC has found a working formula while the Sweet Science is resistant to change.
9. Dodgeball, an occasional update: Though at the first buzzer this scribe was more than 400 miles away, my dodgeball correspondent checked in with a report of what came off as a nip-and-tuck affair that ultimately ended in the final seconds with a heartbreaking defeat for Aim Low.
The eventual victor was the Superbad Ballers, a team that had faced our own five times the previous season. Aim Low won the first two meetings and dropped the final three. Last week, the two teams were tied 2-2 after 29 minutes and 59 seconds. But when time ran out, the Superbad Ballers had more people on the court and were awarded the final game.
The playoffs begin today (Dec. 8). Will Aim Low be weighed down by the dual burdens of disappointment from the previous match and extra weight from the previous night’s holiday party? Or will it rally and, eventually, take its first championship?
Team record: 5-2. This past week’s post-game beer of choice (from a distance): Yuengling Traditional Lager.
10. Ah, life’s simple pleasures – Yuengling, French fries with Old Bay and Maryland crabcakes – oh so delicious yet oh so difficult to find in this section of New England.
David P. Greisman is a member of the Boxing Writers Association of America. His weekly column, “Fighting Words,” appears every Monday on BoxingScene.com. He may be reached for questions and comments at fightingwords1@gmail.com
