By Sean Reed

Between the unexpected snowstorm affecting all major events in the Dallas area, a pissing match with the Texas Boxing Commission and being extended the distance for the first time in his young career, last week turned out to be one to forget for unbeaten middleweight Charles Hatley.

After having scored ten straight knockouts to begin his career, a Hatley opponent managed to hear the final bell when late sub Marcus Brashears managed to last all eight rounds against the 2008 U.S. Olympic alternate last Thursday at Showroom At Gilley’s in Dallas.

Despite being taken the distance by a scrappy journeyman, it was hardly the toughest battle Hatley was forced to endure last week.

The Texas Boxing Commission has a long history of inconsistent and head scratching decision making, a history that extends way beyond its waffling over relicensing a hand wraps tampering Antonio Margarito and its horrific officiating in the controversially scored first fight between Paul Malignaggi and home grown lightweight Juan Diaz. 

As it pertains to Black Gloves Promotions, host of last week’s aforementioned show, the Texas Commission has been consistently inconsistent and the proverbial thorn in their sides.

Smaller, less prickly entities also seem to have beef of some fashion with the local boxing outfit. Love it or hate it, Black Gloves Promotions is fully prepared to ride or die on the premise of "top-notch boxing with an urban flair.

At some point, you'd expect the boxing commission to learn to live with it.

Should the pugilistic heads of state really be concerning themselves with the pace of a five-bout show, the between fights entertainment and the overall presentation of the card?

They certainly weren't obtained to be event coordinators, yet the powers that be forced their negativity and unsolicited "advice" upon Black Gloves at every opportunity and in the most unprofessional manner imaginable. 

If you're spending between $50,000 and $100,000 to do an event, you've presumably earned and paid for the right to attach any bells and whistles to it that you see fit, devoid of belittlement.   
 
Nonetheless, all evening long, the Texas commission voiced its beef with hip hop music, the volume, the live singer, the rappers, the saxophonist, the barbecue sandwiches and pretty much everything else that Black Gloves Promotions represents, culturally speaking. 

At the root of all this is Black Gloves' showcase stallion, Charles "The Future" Hatley, a fighter that is independently trained and promoted by his father, Greg Hatley Sr.

The problem is, the resident power brokers openly prefer that Hatley fight for a larger, more established outfit; Golden Boy, Top Rank, et al. Since that isn't happening, licensing deadlines are mysteriously not being met due to things as trivial as a fax and Black Gloves is often forced into scrambling for last minute (and at times more expensive) replacements to fight Hatley.
 
For example, Hatley’s scheduled opponent for last week’s fight was Stalin Lopez - a seasoned, undefeated Cuban prospect - in a bout that had generated a level of buzz in the southwest. It wasn’t revealed until the 11th hour that Lopez's eye exam results hadn't arrived by the commission's imposed cut-off time, 72 hours prior to fight night. 

Even though the rest of the four page licensing forms were received and Lopez's brain trust twice faxed proof that the eye exam had also been sent, the Commission still disallowed him the opportunity to fight. His managers even flew to Dallas anyways, to confront the boxing commission face to face, in hopes of still making the fight happen.

No dice. Just like that, a salivating matchup of undefeated prospects was defecated upon.
 
Enter Marcus "The Thrilla from Amarilla" Brashears (7-14-1, 2 KO's), a tough journeyman from Amarillo (hence, the nickname) with only one loss by knockout, but a significant step down from the level of opponent that Black Gloves intended on testing Hatley against. 

To his credit, Brashears capably played the villain's role, getting nose to nose with Hatley at the weigh-in, questioning his manhood and opposition and offering to bet his entire purse that "The Future" wouldn't stop him.  In his best Floyd Mayweather Jr. imitation, Hatley whipped out a wad of dead presidents and was all but ready to accept Brashears' challenge contractually as well, until the commission spoke of the illegality of such a thing. 
 
By fight night, even the weather proved to be problematic for the promotion, as more than six inches of snow covered the city of Dallas. At risk was the card itself and the lives of the unbeknownst southwestern souls that dared to get behind the wheel and brave the unfamiliar elements. 

Fighters arrived late to the Showroom at Gilley's (one ended up no-showing altogether), as did a sparse yet ever growing crowd. For this very reason, Black Gloves had hoped to delay the start of the fights, but then big brother reared its ugly head again.

With minimal prep-time, boxers were bullied into the ring by the commission and the entertainment was heavily frowned upon.  "People come to see fights, not all this other loud crap you've got going on", twanged Dickie Cole, the geriatric "good ol’ boy" that runs the commission.  Never mind that the audience was comprised of mostly young, urban types that ate up every morsel of the presentation.
 
Dallas' own Dorrough, Mr. Ice Cream Paint Job himself, performed cuts from his album including "Walk that Walk" and then led Hatley (and his mushrooming entourage) out with his signature song, much to the dismay of the Texas boxing brass. 

As Hatley rhythmically bobbed, weaved, gyrated, wiggled and tip-toed his way to the squared circle, the now decently sized crowd fully bought into the party atmosphere. 
 
At the opening bell of the scheduled eight round main event, Brashears, who talked a good game at the weigh-in, revealed what would prove to be his fight plan throughout; playing to the crowd, covering up, absorbing punches like a sponge and shaking his head "no", with verbal responses of "you can't hurt me" sprinkled on top. 

If this was devised to actually win the fight, it failed miserably. Less than a round in, two looping right hands staggered Brashears and forced his glove to touch the canvas to maintain balance.

A flurry of bolo styled uppercuts emphasized the level of this two-fisted beat down in the second and Hatley resembled a fighter hitting the double-end bag in the third, with a shoeshine flurry in younger Roy Jones-like fashion.
 
Round four was the first stanza not one-sided enough to arguably be scored 10-8, as Brashears managed to get in the occasional wild counter left, but Hatley was back to his dominant ways by the fifth.  Everything from his high octane arsenal was on display; body shots, hooks, crosses, bolo's, winging blows, looping blows, uppercuts, with both hands, orthodox and southpaw.

To his credit, the gritty Brashears braved it all and lasted until the final bell, becoming the first man to do so in Hatley's (10-0, 9 KO's) brief career.
 
Afterwards, an act as simple as Hatley bringing his children into the ring was met with great resistance by a bitter Cole. It's not clear why this act so greatly bothered the commissioner, but Hatley never allowed it o prevent him from celebrating his moment with his offspring. He even playfully grabbed the house microphone and told Cole that he "wanted a title shot" and to "make it happen, Dickie.”