Olympic boxers find tough road as a pro

Good article that made Yahoos main page. A year ago, Andre Dirrell was on a medal podium in Athens, an American flag wrapped around his shoulders. These days, the super middleweight fights on undercards without a promoter, wearing trunks with his name misspelled down the leg. ADVERTISEMENT Heavyweight Devin Vargas, the U.S. Olympic team captain, has trouble finding competent sparring partners in his native Toledo. In his most recent fight, he struggled to beat an opponent who fell to 3-15-4 with the loss. Even gold medalist Andre Ward, the most promising boxer from the 2004 Olympics, is facing years of fights in half-empty buildings before getting a shot at the sport's biggest prizes. Eight of the nine U.S. Olympic boxers have turned pro, but the game is proving exponentially tougher and more impenetrable than the amateur scene they once dominated. As Ward can testify, a red-white-and-blue heritage guarantees nothing in a sport where only green matters. "You can learn a lot from the Olympics, but you have to learn the sport again when you turn pro," Ward said. "Just being an Olympian or a gold medalist isn't going to get you a break when you take off that headgear and start prizefighting. You've got to prove yourself all over again, every day." American fighters from Muhammad Ali to Oscar De La Hoya once rode a wave of Olympic glory into the pro ranks, buoyed by the fame and goodwill resulting from fighting for their country. The elite lineage includes Roy Jones Jr., Sugar Ray Leonard, Evander Holyfield, George Foreman and current champions Jermain Taylor, Jeff Lacy and Floyd Mayweather Jr. But boxing has fallen behind beach volleyball in Olympic popularity these days, and many of the world's best fighters bypass the Games altogether. Last year's Olympic team had America's worst showing since 1948, winning only Ward's gold and Dirrell's bronze. "As an Olympian, I know I have to prove something extra," Vargas said. "In the Olympics, I was having fun. Before the fights, I was yelling and stuff. Everything just felt like a roller coaster. It was so exciting and fun." Vargas has tried to maintain that attitude in the pros, but it isn't easy. Boxing is a job with an everyday training grind and a serious risk of injury every time in the ring — not a lark around the world with a bunch of friends. "I'm in a job that's supposed to be fun," he said. "When it isn't fun any more, I think that's when you retire and do something else." Amateur boxing, with its points-based scoring and protective gear, is widely derided as fencing with gloves, and the Olympians are still learning the intricacies of traditional prizefighting. Dirrell, Ward and Vargas fought on the same card last week, but it wasn't the glamorous late-night scene they might have expected in their pro careers. The fights started in the afternoon, with barely 3,100 people in the stands at a darkened hockey arena in San Jose when Ward stopped Minnesota journeyman Christopher Holt. "A lot of people have underestimated the class of 2004," promoter Dan Goossen said. "I think they've all put on solid shows, and they're going to be just fine." The Olympians chose to fight together to get national television exposure that will boost their profiles and further build momentum for Ward, who's expected to move faster up the ranks than any Olympic fighter in recent years. But with limited financial resources and relative anonymity, there's nothing easy about climbing to the top of this game. For instance, Dirrell had difficulty preparing for his most recent fight because the pipes broke in his home gym, destroying the floor and most of the boxing equipment. Bernard Hopkins or former Olympian Antonio Tarver don't face such problems — and they don't fight with typos on their trunks, as Dirrell did in San Jose. In fact, Dirrell hasn't even assembled a traditional structure around him yet. He's waiting for a big break — or promoters are waiting for him to prove his worth. "I don't have anybody behind me, but that's my choice," Dirrell said. "I'm planning to take my time picking out promoters and a manager. I'm just trying to develop a bond with the promoters that I talk to. I'm using different people in my fights. If I like them, we'll keep talking. I believe I'm in a great position." Ward is in the most prominent position of all, with Jones and Goossen promoting his career. His next fight is on the undercard of Jones' rematch with Tarver on Oct. 1, and his handlers are building a buzz and reputation hopefully culminating in a title shot within two years. "We speak about it this way: We're taking this vessel, so to speak, out of its pier, and the destination is the other continent, which is the world title," said Virgil Hunter, Ward's godfather and trainer. "The journey isn't going to take a week or a month, but we've got to be committed to the journey." Ward survived poverty, his father's death and the pressures of his own fatherhood to make it to Athens, where he shocked the international boxing world with likely the best performance of the Games in a victory over Russian champion Evgeny Makarenko. Nothing in his pro career has approached the sweetness of that win, but Ward is willing to wait. "I never want to despise small beginnings," said Ward, who had his first pro fight in December. "I'm grateful for where we're at right now." But until their careers eventually lead to bigger stages and bigger paydays, the Olympians still treasure their memories of the road to Athens as their best experiences in boxing. "I hadn't seen these guys since Athens, but it seems like we picked up right where we left off, just goofing around and having fun," Vargas said. "These guys will always be my brothers. I'm trying to stay in contact with them."