By David P. Greisman
Brought out of retirement by manager Joe Gould, James J. Braddock was intended to be the fall guy, a tune-up opponent for John “Corn” Griffin before Griffin met the world heavyweight champion, Max Baer. As the new motion picture Cinderella Man shows, Braddock overcame the expectations to shock Griffin, beginning a comeback that would climax with a fifteen round decision victory and the taking of Baer’s title.
Back to the present, while the story of Ricky “The Hitman” Hatton is missing the frightening adversity faced by Braddock and his family during the Great Depression, his legacy has been sealed with this weekend’s surprising defeat of junior welterweight legend Kostya Tszyu.
In this week’s edition of Fighting Words, I will opine about Ricky Hatton and Kostya Tszyu, analyzing how Hatton was able to frustrate “The Thunder From Down Under” and forced him to retire before the twelfth round began, and review Cinderella Man. The 10 Count is on hiatus this time around, but will return in full force next week.
“There’s Only One Ricky Fatton”
When Ricky Hatton appeared on television screens in March for an interview on Showtime, he looked heavy, appearing to have ballooned tremendously since his December knockout of Ray Oliveira. Boxing fans and press, never ones to pass over such an easy opportunity, began to refer to the Manchester, England resident as Ricky Fatman or Ricky Fatton.
So when his fight with Kostya Tszyu was over, and his hands were being raised in victory in front of a raucously supportive hometown crowd of about 22,000, the new IBF junior welterweight champion had planned a way to silence his critics, and not just with his impressive game plan and success against Tszyu. This time, the Mancunian let his wardrobe carry out an extra message, donning a black t-shirt with white lettering that simultaneously acknowledged and answered, “There’s Only One Ricky Fatton.”
The so-called “third franchise” of Manchester, behind soccer teams Manchester City and Manchester United, Ricky Hatton was able to overcome questions about his conditioning and show up those who had pondered just how well the 26 year old could handle the older, wiser and imposing Tszyu.
At the weigh-in, Hatton arrived in impeccable shape, looking ripped and topping the scales at 139 and three-quarters pounds. Instead, it was Tszyu who would come in slightly over the junior welterweight limit and need to leave to sweat the weight off before coming back a few hours later at 140.
And when fight night arrived and the two stepped between the ropes, Hatton carried out his game plan so effectively that he never gave Tszyu the proverbial chance to breathe. For a majority of the eleven rounds, Hatton was on Tszyu, holding the Russian’s dynamite right hand, leaning on the champion, bulling him to the ropes and using his free hand to push Tszyu’s head backwards.
Whereas Tszyu’s vaunted right hand counters had caught past come-forward opponents, Hatton was rarely caught cleanly in the first half of the fight, as the two wrestled, each touching the other with uppercuts and hooks on the inside but neither having the room to hurt his foe.
But as the night progressed, the pressure, and perhaps the late local time (the main event commenced at 2 AM in Manchester) began to wear down the champion, who had refused to acclimate himself to the graveyard shift hours. Hatton, on the other hand, who had trained in the wee morning hours, continued to look fresh while earning an advantage on the judges’ scorecards.
Before the twelfth round began, referee Dave Parris was informed by Tszyu’s corner that they wanted no more, and as the crowd exploded and Hatton celebrated, one could only wonder what thoughts had been going through Tszyu’s mind to make him decide to quit.
In a post-fight interview, Tszyu revealed that although he was in great shape, he had not felt “that much tired or exhausted for years and years,” although he did not think that the late night was to blame. He also believed, correctly, that he was behind on the cards by a couple of points, and could not foresee himself pulling out the victory.
Gracious and classy, Tszyu spoke on the microphone in front of Hatton’s fans, declaring their hero to have been the better man, in all aspects. Right beforehand, Hatton had continued to carry the respective tone that had been used by both in all the press conferences leading up to their June 4 match, declaring, “If I can be half the champion Kostya Tszyu was, I’ll be doing good.”
The torch has been passed now, from a longtime reigning king to an upstart with knockout power, from an old, gritty champion to a new one. Hatton has stepped up and earned himself a piece of the junior welterweight pie, demonstrating with his performance against Tszyu that he is a force to be reckoned with at 140, even if he walks around between fights far north of that figure.
After all, there’s only one Ricky Fatton.
Cinderella Man – True Stories are More Inspiring Than Fiction
Before there was Rocky, there was James J. Braddock, a true working class hero who inspired the masses as a people’s champion. Nearly thirty years after Sylvester Stallone’s boxing film series began, Braddock finally received his due in a magnificently enjoyable motion picture directed by Ron Howard and starring Russell Crowe.
Much more than a movie about a boxer, Cinderella Man is a touching tale about the sacrifices that Braddock made to care for his family and the rewards that he reaped in return. Russell Crowe and Renee Zellweger infuse deep emotion into their characters, disappearing into the desperation that millions felt during the Great Depression. Through their acting and Howard’s direction, James and Mae Braddock remain sympathetic to audiences for the full 144-minute flick, pulling viewers in along for the ride.
In a media conference call promoting the movie, Howard discussed the pride he had in watching the reactions in the front row during screenings, especially during the seminal scene, when Braddock faces the champion, Max Baer. According to Howard, he would see people reacting to the punches, moving with the camera, as if it was actually they who were in the ring with the heavyweight champion.
From the moment that Crowe first read the script in 1997, Cinderella Man was a labor of love designed to preserve the integrity of Braddock’s story. As he read more about him, said Crowe, “It became a personal quest for me that his legacy was respected.”
While Braddock’s legacy was respected, it appears that Baer’s was not. His dalliances with multiple women aside, Baer is portrayed as a heartless villain, a man who seemingly wants to make Braddock the third man that he kills in the ring so that he may then comfort the widowed Mae.
In Hollywood, true stories are often changed in order to sell tickets, but few other liberties were taken with Cinderella Man. Braddock’s manager, Joe Gould, was also made his trainer for the movie, allowing actor Paul Giamatti (Sideways) more opportunities to steal scenes and perhaps an Oscar nomination.
Says Howard: “It was a very, very difficult journey for us to dramatize [the movie] in a way that was emotional, compelling and very, very truthful.”
Howard was successful in making the picture emotional and compelling, almost from the outset. In the beginning of the film, we see Braddock riding high, bringing home the riches to his family. Yet as the “Bulldog of Bergen” puts down his money and the night fades into darkness, the movie pulls forward years later, out of the Roaring Twenties and into the dark sepia tones of the Great Depression.
Braddock’s career has stagnated, his license revoked by the commission after a poor performance that came after a series of injuries. Like plenty of other men who need to feed themselves and their loved ones, Braddock arrives daily at the dock, seeking the opportunity to be chosen for a hard day’s work.
Even in the kind of struggle that would call for desperate measures, Braddock remains stubborn, vigilant in keeping the family together and doing things the right way. When his son steals meat from the store, Braddock marches his child back, chiding him that no matter what, they do not steal.
The situation worsens, though, and after the family’s electricity gets cut, we see Mae and the kids breaking fence wood to feed a fire. With the repressive cold of winter making her children ill, she sends her two sons and a daughter to live with their relatives. Braddock arrives home to find no one but his wife, who tells him that she had to make the decision because he wasn’t there.
Once a proud man, Braddock surfaces at the bar frequented by his former Madison Square Garden cohorts, begging hat-in-hand for spare change to help his family. So later on when Gould arrives with a 250 dollar offer to fight John “Corn” Griffin, Braddock leaps at the opportunity.
As the movie returns to the squared circle, Howard's cinematic choices truly begin to shine. The arena in Cinderella Man crackles with life, and the voice-over of the radio announcer is ever-present, lending credence to the flavor of fights of that era. The camera is ever-kinetic, often placing itself in Braddock’s point-of-view, as he focuses on his opponent, turns his head to hear Gould’s instructions, looks out to the crowd to see their reactions.
With technical advice from Angelo Dundee, the film thankfully lacks the constant haymakers of Rocky, bringing credibility and science to the matches. Dundee also gets a credit as Braddock’s cutman, and just before the credits begin to roll one can see Crowe giving the famed trainer of Muhammad Ali a kiss to his bald dome.
Next Week’s Fighting Words – Mr. Tyson Goes to Washington
Next week’s edition of Fighting Words should be tremendous, as I will be in Washington D.C. on Saturday covering the Mike Tyson/Kevin McBride fight, and shall dedicate much of next week’s column to the events and the experience. Look for the return of The 10 Count, as well as writings about the weekend’s Miguel Cotto/Mohamad Abdullaev and Joel Casamayor/Kid Diamond fights.