Wednesday, October 11, 2006 Sayson: Hope among the heavyweights By Homer Sayson Secondovertime
CHICAGO —My last and lasting image of a heavyweight champion was Mike Tyson in his prime. Iron Mike, formerly the Baddest Man on the Planet, had bulging muscles, a chiseled physique, and a scowl that could chase the devil away.
When I was at ringside to watch the WBA heavyweight championship fight between Nikolai Valuev and Monte Barrett last Saturday night at the All-State Arena, I didn't expect some Tyson-like grandeur. But I did hope that boxing's centerpiece weight class would get back a lot of its eroded splendor.
I wasn't disappointed.
Valuev, a glowing 7-foot, 325-pound symbol of the old Soviet Union's athletic might, proved to be more than just eye candy. Yes, he was slow as a City Hall paperwork. But he was also like a Russian army tank—unstoppable in it's sluggish yet relentless advance.
Perhaps induced by his confessed nervousness of fighting in the US for the first time, Valuev manifested a few sour qualities.
For a Hulk who towered eight inches over his vanquished foe, Valuev threw just 176 jabs, or roughly 16 per three minutes. That's not nearly enough. He also lacked versatility, over-stuffing his arsenal with uppercuts instead of a healthy mixing of hooks and short punches. And he appeared wanting for killer instinct.
His body hair is not a technical flaw, but it obviously needs work. With hair growing abundantly all over his body, Valuev looked like an oily, cheap gigolo. I wonder what Barrett must have felt every time he had to clinch. Yuck!
All things considered, Valuev is a legitimate champion, with a legitimate shot at unifying all the belts in a muddled, talent-thirsty heavyweight division. But at age 33, with both his knees scheduled for surgery in Germany soon, time is running out.
I came to Saturday's fight with very modest expectations on Barrett. He was, after all, a journeyman who already had four defeats in a respectable, but seemingly uneventful, fistic career. I dismissed Two Gunz as a sacrificial lamb in the altar of Valuev's US debut.
I was so wrong.
Barrett didn't just come to collect a fat paycheck. He came to win, throwing 159 jabs and firing a total of 440 punches, 127 of which found Valuev's face and body. Unfortunately, Barrett's blows had little effect. Because the Russian was so tall, Barrett had to lunge and flail, and without leverage in his punches, the power was less devastating. He could have really used a step-ladder.
But the most admirable trait that Barrett possessed was his courage. Man, he got plastered by 186 of Valuev's 459 punches thrown. How can someone take such abuse and last 11 rounds? Had his trainer not entered the ring to end the savagery, Barrett would have willingly taken more punishment.
Unbeaten in 45 fights with 33 knockouts, Valuev is now flirting with Rocky Marciano's all-time best of 49-0. I hope Valuev will break the record, if only to spark interest in boxing, especially the heavyweights, who have since been overshadowed by their lighter peers.
Valuev doesn't have Ali's killer charm. He doesn't have Joe Frazier's smoking bravado, or Tyson's brutal nature. He also doesn't have Lennox Lewis' superb technical skills.
But he is fun to watch, in his own special way. I'd love to be ringside for Valuev's next fight penciled tentatively in Las Vegas. As for Barrett, whose heart is as large as his home state of New York, I hope he gets another chance.
POSTSCRIPT. I met Buddy McGirt, world class trainer of champions, at the Allstate Arena's Skyline Room the day before the Valuev-Barrett bout. He sends his best regards to Z Gorres and Gerry Penalosa, who both worked out in his gym before. "I love those guys, man. Tell Z that the boys from Vero Beach, Florida misses him."
McGirt thinks that the Pacquiao-Morales III will be a classic, but he proved to be more neutral than Switzerland and chose not to pick a winner.
I also met Michael Hirshley, Chicago Tribune's boxing writer and columnist. Five years ago, Chicago Tribune NBA writer and columnist Sam Smith referred me to Hirsley for help with my boxing credentials.
The one phone call I made to Hirsley in 2001 has since led to my accreditation as a boxing writer to many, many world title fights. I still thank Mr. Hirsley every chance I get.
