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Once again, alphabet soup comes with a bitter aftertaste.
Looking down into the bowl, one sees the letters IBF – though the idea that those letters rose to the top is misleading. The International Boxing Federation is quickly proving itself among the lowest of the bottom feeders we call sanctioning bodies. Looking at the soup again, a few choice words accompany the initial initialism.
Within two weeks, the IBF has delivered for its championship fights unsuitable opponents on opposing ends of the spectrum – one was carried from the ring with injuries that could have left him dead, the other was essentially dead on arrival before his bout even began.
Blame always goes around when a fighter is critically or fatally injured – to his trainer, to the referee, to the athletic commission and to the sanctioning body. But it is the latter, in this case, that mandated a mismatch for questionable reasons.
Boxing is a hurt sport. Fighters take punishment and die, and then reform is required for increasing safety and decreasing the frequency of future fatalities. Victor Burgos, however, was a small junior flyweight who was thrown into the ring with a big puncher and without any rhyme or reason.
As of Dec. 2005, the IBF had Burgos as its fifth-ranked flyweight, elevating him to third in mid-March 2006 due to Rosendo Alvarez’ prolonged absence from the division and Diosdado Gabi’s loss to Vic Darchinyan. Burgos’ qualifications were minimal – he had a brief run as the sanctioning body’s 108-pound champion before losing to Will Grigsby, and since then he’d defeated two flyweight opponents with unimpressive records and more recent losses than wins.
Not that it mattered. Darchinyan needed an opponent, and the IBF needed a sanctioning fee.
Burgos, though, didn’t need the beating he took. He also didn’t need the blood clot, or the swollen brain or the medically induced coma or the potential future consequences caused by his own pride and others’ lack of precaution.
In a way, Burgos’ situation is reminiscent of Leavander Johnson, the lightweight warrior who lost his life five days after he sustained a prolonged beating from Jesus Chavez. Johnson was a career bridesmaid, a contender who, by 2005, had challenged thrice for world titles but who had came up short each time.
As hard as it is to tell any athlete that it’s time to hang ‘em up, no one ever convinced Johnson to do so. Through sanctioning body magic, Johnson outpointed 21-15-2 Roque Cassiani and ended up with his fourth and final title shot, a seventh-round stoppage of Stefano Zoff. [details]
Looking down into the bowl, one sees the letters IBF – though the idea that those letters rose to the top is misleading. The International Boxing Federation is quickly proving itself among the lowest of the bottom feeders we call sanctioning bodies. Looking at the soup again, a few choice words accompany the initial initialism.
Within two weeks, the IBF has delivered for its championship fights unsuitable opponents on opposing ends of the spectrum – one was carried from the ring with injuries that could have left him dead, the other was essentially dead on arrival before his bout even began.
Blame always goes around when a fighter is critically or fatally injured – to his trainer, to the referee, to the athletic commission and to the sanctioning body. But it is the latter, in this case, that mandated a mismatch for questionable reasons.
Boxing is a hurt sport. Fighters take punishment and die, and then reform is required for increasing safety and decreasing the frequency of future fatalities. Victor Burgos, however, was a small junior flyweight who was thrown into the ring with a big puncher and without any rhyme or reason.
As of Dec. 2005, the IBF had Burgos as its fifth-ranked flyweight, elevating him to third in mid-March 2006 due to Rosendo Alvarez’ prolonged absence from the division and Diosdado Gabi’s loss to Vic Darchinyan. Burgos’ qualifications were minimal – he had a brief run as the sanctioning body’s 108-pound champion before losing to Will Grigsby, and since then he’d defeated two flyweight opponents with unimpressive records and more recent losses than wins.
Not that it mattered. Darchinyan needed an opponent, and the IBF needed a sanctioning fee.
Burgos, though, didn’t need the beating he took. He also didn’t need the blood clot, or the swollen brain or the medically induced coma or the potential future consequences caused by his own pride and others’ lack of precaution.
In a way, Burgos’ situation is reminiscent of Leavander Johnson, the lightweight warrior who lost his life five days after he sustained a prolonged beating from Jesus Chavez. Johnson was a career bridesmaid, a contender who, by 2005, had challenged thrice for world titles but who had came up short each time.
As hard as it is to tell any athlete that it’s time to hang ‘em up, no one ever convinced Johnson to do so. Through sanctioning body magic, Johnson outpointed 21-15-2 Roque Cassiani and ended up with his fourth and final title shot, a seventh-round stoppage of Stefano Zoff. [details]
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