By Patrick Kehoe
“I come from a country where women give birth to men.”
Yes, former welterweight titlist Ricardo Mayorga, 29-6-1 (23), has used that line for years. He means to say that he’s the only true ‘man’ in this, his latest fight, the only one who is willing to fight like a ‘real’ man. With disdainful pride he always reminds opponents and the assembled media, “So I’ll stick out my chin for you to hit.” This time he’s baiting “Sugar” Shane Mosley, 44-5 (37), to try and hit him. And yes, he presented Felix Trinidad with the same invitation and was promptly obliged to suffer a hellacious beating from the Puerto Rican bomber October 2, 2004. So over all an odd taunting stratagem for Mayorga – even against a fighter in Mosley that he doesn’t fear – since no one “El Matador” has faced in the 21st Century has had much difficulty hitting him.
Predictably, out come the cigarettes, hands on hips, puffs of cooling menthol billowing and choking those on his side of the promotional dais. Comically threatening, Mayorga tempts us to see him as teetering toward mental instability, though; he never once has threatened to eat anyone’s children. His daring means to draw opponents into a fire fight. Stand and fight, embrace your inner John L. Sullivan. The Mayorga bantering provides Team Mosley with ample evidence that Mayorga no longer enjoys extended search and destroy missions. Chasing more fleet footed opposition requires far too much cardio fitness. Shadow boxing against an all but statuesque Fernando Vargas last November hardly means he’ll have the legs to box and move against Mosley. At least that’s what the broad smiling, sugar coated former lightweight champion from Los Angeles believes.
“This fight goes three rounds... Then that’s it... Like in the amateurs... he’s going to get knocked out,” right on cue Mayorga presents a mildly amused Mosley with a pair of pink boxing gloves. All Mayorga proves is that boxing writers will laugh at even the most Vaudevillian stunts and eat almost anything for lunch.
If you could ever get inside that fun house of a brain of Mayorga’s it would be obvious that promoter/boxer Shane Mosley is doing in a favour. Mayorga nevertheless plays his part of the comedian bent on destruction. Grateful anyone remembers to call him though he may be he still has a fight to win, future earnings to secure. Mayorga irritates to entertain.
What psychological points he scores during prefight press conferences he typically gives away as soon as the fighting begins. Still, Mayorga tries his best to man up, to give a full account of himself because there are no other options for him. His role of carnival beast, black hat or the other guy who once held the welterweight title has been set, cut in stone, not subject to alteration. His job as a fighter remains getting as many people excited about what might unexpectedly happen to Felix Trinidad or Oscar De La Hoya or Fernando Vargas and now Shane Mosley as possible. So he agitates only enough to make a fool out of himself, smirking and winking at those who are in on the joke.
After all, his career is deep into overtime and he’s in a hurry; patience not being one of his remaining, almost hidden, virtues. Who cares if his act wears a bit thin now days? Humour tends to ingratiate and inoculate sinful men. The older boxing writers have seen it all before; his comedic presentation a rerun, less and less surreal or menacing. But the show must go on, so he takes to his natural role of annoying interloper to Mosley’s monarchical majesty; who is the technically challenged Ricardo Mayorga if not the strong man, beating war drums on his chest promising he’s as good as his promises, a dangerous man?
What slightly surprises us each and every time Mayorga fights is how willing he seems to be to take yet another hiding. For all of his pompous machismo, we wonder what keeps Mayorga going, keeps him rushing head first into the fists of ‘real’ champions. Money, of course, money makes heroes or villains or clowns of all who brave the rough trade of the ring. But more than that, Ricardo Mayorga still sees himself as a man who can defy the physical gifts of other men, drain their advantages of speed and agility, blunting their replete skill sets. Ricardo Mayorga lives to take down men who think that they are better than he is, men who don’t respect what he’s always given in the ring, in victory or defeat.
For guys like Mayorga who rely on physicality more than technique and determination more than strategy, the question of making the fight in terms of one’s sense of relentlessness is really all that matters. Drive to brandish and finally bash in the face of those who are laughing at him behind his back, calling into question his right to be there. Yes, surely Mosley will have the superior jab and options when counter punching or registering the greater variety of punching combinations. No one has ever tagged Mayorga with the label of sharpshooter. Anyone who’s watched him box for three rounds understands fully that Mayorga has to be more of a force than a tool, more willing than able.
What astounds Team Mosley is that a guy known to be as irregular in his training habits, as unconventional in his technique, as Mayorga has survived this long at the top of big time boxing. For every analytical ‘i’ that Shane Mosley has assiduously dotted, Mayorga’s t-d off on most of lives indulgences. How much longer can Mayorga survive his penchant for once a year pulling himself together for 6 weeks to make the effort to shed the pounds, pouring his fists into the heavy bag and sparring partners, as if there were no final cost for inconstancy.
“After four or five rounds he’s tired out, done,” Shane Mosley wants his vision of Mayorga on the record. “Must be all the smoking!” Where Shane Mosley has scientifically calibrated professional commitment to excellence, Mayorga has the ritual of return, his basic theme being self torture for the purpose of paying the cost of being granted another opportunity to make big money. In strictly promotional terms those wins over Vernon Forrest and most recently Fernando Vargas – combined with his colourfully chaotic personality – have stamped him a marketable commodity, subject to periodic recall and retesting by the sports more gilt edged personalities. Taking beatings from Felix Trinidad and Oscar De La Hoya has secured Mayorga a place in the perpetual contenders list. Mayorga’s main duties are to show up, be in shape and make a spectacle of himself. No method acting required for “Ricky” Mayorga. He just has to remember to keep his eyes shifting, keep puffing, and keep the fires stoked, the rest the fans will invent for themselves.
Though he thanks God and his promoters of the moment, Mayorga fully appreciates he’s an appealing oddity; the notion of him being presented as a legitimate pseudo-championship level fighter, in 2008, calls into question the entire exercise of Mosley fighting Mayorga at all. True, a fighter has to fight someone or retire. But the fighting Mayorga means that your career is more about simulation than promise. And NONE of that matters!
Mayorga has his own script, his own set of guiding principles. For Ricardo Mayorga boxing in the big time against “Sugar” Shane Mosley in Los Angeles, in what amounts to a home stand for Mosley, means money and fun and one more chance to be outrageous and, just maybe, do what no one expects of him.
Maybe the jokes on everyone else this time, maybe he’s Keith Mullings and Shane Mosley is Terry Norris and no one but him has the real punch lines to this silly fight.
Don’t forget, sometimes veteran fighters lose their cool and let their egos do the talking and decide to just fight it out, let the better man win, and to hell with tactics.
Sometimes boxers like Shane Mosley think they can do anything against their casual inferiors.
Sometimes the older guy, even fighting at Home Depot Center, fights like the older guy.
Sometimes a fight unexpectedly comes down to who’s the stronger man on the end of a punch.
Sometimes Mayorga’s in a mood not to let the other guy be prudent and select his punches and box a clean fight.
Sometimes Mayorga can take a massive shot and somehow find a way to get his own bombs home.
Now we’re talking crazy talk.
Patrick Kehoe may be reached at pkehoe@telus.net