By Thomas Hauser
On May 2 at 8:45 PM, Manny Pacquiao made his way to the ring in the MGM Grand Garden Arena. Sixty-four rotating spotlights shone down from above. The crowd roared. Pacquiao climbed four metal steps, maneuvered his body through the ring ropes, and went to the red corner. At 8:50, Floyd Mayweather followed.
Three days before Mayweather-Pacquiao, I climbed into the same ring at the MGM Grand with former WBO cruiserweight champion Johnny Nelson. The arena was empty. With Nelson’s counsel, I imagined what it would be like for the fighters on Saturday night when they entered the ring. On Thursday, I repeated the exercise with Paulie Malignaggi. Their thoughts follow.
You leave the sanctuary of your dressing room and walk down a brightly-lit corridor; then through a short a dark tunnel into the arena.
The worst part is the waiting. The waiting is over.
For every fighter, no matter how confident he is, there’s a moment before a fight when he has to deal with fear. You should have dealt with it before now.
You make your way through the crowd.
The arena is packed to the rafters.
The roar of the crowd is like no other sound. It can energize and inspire. Or it can terrify like the full-throated roar of a lion in the jungle.
You feed on the crowd, or it will feed on you.
You tell yourself that you’re ready. You remind yourself what’s at stake.
The steps leading up to the ring are narrow. At the top, you can see everything clearly. You feel like you’re on top of the world.
The killing field lies before you.
Four ropes are horizontally stretched on each side of the ring. From top to bottom; red, white, blue, white. The canvas is twenty feet squared inside the ropes, stretched over plywood and foam mats. You can’t walk around it in a circle like you want to because there are too many sanctioning body officials and other people who don’t belong in the ring.
You were in the arena for satellite interviews earlier in the week. It feels bigger now that it’s full. Row after row of spectators recede into darkness as far as the eye can see.
You look at the crowd. It’s studded with icons who have shaped your life. Great fighters you admired over the years. Singers you’ve listened to, actors you’ve seen on screen.
These people mean nothing to you now. Nothing that happens outside of this ring matters. You block everything out of your mind but the fight.
You’re at the center of the world. For the next hour, no place on earth will have more eyes focussed upon it.
“Let’s get ready to rumble!!!”
It’s easy to lose yourself in the fighter introductions. Don’t!
Be in the moment.
The introductions are over. The sanctioning body officials and entourage members, even your trainer, have left the ring. There’s no one standing behind you now, massaging your shoulders, shouting, “You da man!”
They’re all gone. You’re alone.
The ring looks smaller when there’s a man trained in the art of hurting in the opposite corner. When you look across the ring, do you see predator or prey?
Do you want to get the fight started, or do you want get it over with?
You can fear failure. You can not feel physical harm. If you do, you’re done.
You wouldn’t be where you are today if you hadn’t mastered the mental part of the game.
The referee is standing in the center of the ring, holding you back with upraised palms, instructing you to wait.
You’re stripped half naked before the eyes of the world. The crowd is watching your every move.
The referee steps back toward a neutral corner. Now there’s nothing and no one in between you and your opponent.
You’re bathed in light. Tens of millions of people around the planet are watching your every move. It’s the loneliest place in the world.
One of the greatest highs or worst lows of your life lies ahead.
Embrace the moment. This means greatness for you.
The referee signals to the timekeeper . . .
DING!
Thomas Hauser can be reached by email at thauser@rcn.com . His most recent book (Thomas Hauser on Boxing) was published by the University of Arkansas Press.