By Jared Max
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Knocked bloody to the canvas several times the last two decades — by itself and its modern sibling, MMA — the sport of boxing went Rocky Balboa on Ivan Drago Saturday night.
When challenger Robert Guerrero fought back from a bruising start against WBA welterweight champ Keith Thurman, he not only personified the grit of his sport but elicited a message from the boxing gods.
It was like Rocky hearing his trainer remind him of his strength.
“You cut him! You hurt him! You see? You see? He’s not a machine! He’s a man!”
Maybe boxing is not headed for its grave, after all. A survivor since the late 1600s, the sport’s undying appeal took center stage Saturday night and cashed in on its free primetime network TV extravaganza
Home from dinner, preparing for bed to be on WCBS 880 at 5:15 Sunday morning, curiosity led me to the Premier Boxing Champions event that I had read several live radio promotional spots for. NBC pulled out all the stops. Al Michaels. Marv Albert. Ray “Boom Boom” Mancini.
The fight began with a boom as Thurman brought a mesmerizing, hawk-like focus to Guerrero’s body and head. It seemed like the fight would last two or three rounds. Thurman’s strategy appeared to call for an early kill.
While my eyes were transfixed by Thurman’s darting approach, my heart was won by Guerrero, who conjured his inner Rocky versus Clubber Lang. As Guerrero withstood Thurman’s early onslaught, I wondered if the match was developing into one for the ages. The welterweights went back and forth until the end of the 12th round, leaving the verdict in doubt several times.
Once Thurman survived the final bell, there was no doubt over the pending result. The final score was not the story. The reason that more people watched this boxing match on television than any other over the last 17 years is because Thurman and Guerrero grabbed the audience by its jewels through their reckless abandon to win. It was not about the names. It was about the content — the drama created by two warriors, aligned to battle to the end.
Who knew who Thurman was before Saturday? Or that he was 31-0 before the fight? Sadly, I did not realize until the third round that Guerrero was the same guy I had seen fight Floyd Mayweather, in person in May of 2013.
As I watched the fight, I scanned my Twitter feed and noticed that I was not the only one fortunate enough to have tuned in. Many of the people who normally tweet about a Knicks game on a Saturday night were sharing earnest tweets about boxing.
If the sport was on the stock exchange, it would be soaring this week. The stock would probably get hyped, overhyped and inflated.
Would it crash, unable to sustain its greed?
Talking about Saturday’s exciting bout, a friend declared, “Mike Tyson ruined boxing.”
I knew exactly what he meant. Tyson transformed the Pony Express into email, altering interest from the journey to the destination. How quickly could Tyson knock out his opponent? Unfulfilled by more standard heavyweights like Lennox Lewis, Riddick Bowe and Vitali Klitchko, boxing seemed to give way to an “In your face!” generation of trash talkers, willing to watch Mayweather and Manny Pacquiao dance around the ring for five years before agreeing to get into it.
Question: Is there a connection between the recent downfall of boxing and its relationship with pay-per-view? In an era that allows consumers to preview music tracks before purchasing them, boxing promoters are still working the crowd at Sam Goody. Are they under a belief that they can charge $16.99 for a compact disc that has a dozen tracks, but only one that is popular, or known?
If Mayweather-Pacquiao is boxing’s future, the sport should be researching funeral homes and burial plots for itself. The odds must be higher than 99:1 that this bout will match its hype, let alone be halfway compelling as the fight that 3.4 million Americans watched for free Saturday night. What I learned from Thurman-Guerrero — reaffirmed by the release of the TV ratings — is that boxing has a large hat in our sports ring IF the product is stronger than the hype.
Three-hundred years after the first recorded boxing match in February of 1681, Sugar Ray Leonard fought Thomas “Hit Man” Hearns to unify the welterweight championship. The match was transmitted live on closed-circuit TV in 298 locations. Boxing fans who wanted to see the fight live back in September 1981 paid to watch it at movie theaters. At the time, only one million American homes spanning 24 cities had pay-per-view access. So, most did what I did. We waited 10 days to watch the fight on HBO. Although we knew its destination, we starved to see the journey.
I am willing to bet the future of boxing that Pacquiao-Mayweather will not generate such magnitude of viewing interest beyond May 2. It might not become a bag of Valentine’s Day candy marked down to 75 percent off by February 17, but it may.
This match is not reliant on what happens in the ring, but what occurs in the hours and days that precede. How many suckers will pay $100, believing they need to witness this pomp and circumstance? Promoters have pumped this event for so long that they don’t realize the product they are selling is like a VHS tape to a viewer who no longer watches DVDs because he progressed to live video streaming. Still, suckers will pay like moths drawn to bright city lights.
Five years ago, I would have gotten together with a few friends to split the bill to watch Mayweather-Pacquiao. Now, this hurrah costs significantly more than it would have when both fighters were in their prime. As a result, I will follow the match live on Twitter. In the unlikely event that it is as exciting as the Thurman-Guerrero fight was, I will watch its rebroadcast, paying the same price that the next Premier Boxing Champions event on CBS will be: Nothing.
The best things in life tend to be free. Like realizations. And inspirations.
Twenty-four hours after Thurman retained his welterweight title via unanimous decision, the match was still lit in my mind.
Sparked by Steve Winwood’s “Back in the High Life Again” — performed during a Soundstage concert I watched Sunday night — I found myself thinking about regeneration. Revival. A phoenix rising from ashes. I thought about Guerrero extending my Saturday night an hour longer than expected. I wondered if an old friend of many sports fans might be back in the bright part of town — to stay.
We’ll be back in the high life again
All the doors I closed one time will open up again
We’ll be back in the high life again
All the eyes that watched us once will smile and take us in
For those of us who believed boxing’s body was awaiting burial, decomposing, we learned that the sport should not be making funeral arrangements. It should be preparing for its baptism and bris. Does anybody have Shaky the Mohel’s phone number?
Jared Max is a multi-award winning sportscaster. He hosted a No. 1 rated New York City sports talk show, “Maxed Out” — in addition to previously serving as longtime Sports Director at WCBS 880, where he currently anchors weekend sports. Follow and communicate with Jared on Twitter @jared_max.
