By request from Dango, here's more than you probably wanted to know about the Cinco De Mayo Superfight between Oscar De La Hoya & Floyd Mayweather Jr.
I call it the last because boxing, fractured mess that it is, has backed itself into a financial corner with its increasing reliance on Pay Per View. PPV walls off the most appealing high profile matchups from the general public, drastically limiting the ability of 'big' fights to attract new fans. There are reasons PPV is the ascendant promotional model right now, but it's no boon for the long term health of boxing as a major spectator sport.
That said, this card never deserved narrative the media spun that it would "save" boxing (assuming a classic battle for the ages) or "destroy" it (courtesy of any one of boxing's nearly infinite mechanisms for self-destruction). Oscar is boxing's last superstar, in part because he fought his early career on free television and built a reputation and a fan base.
That star-making mechanism doesn't exist any more- network TV abandoned boxing years ago after a wave of (wholly predictable) scandals involving fixed ranking and bribery on the part of one Don King, and televised dates on basic cable are relegated to ESPN 2.
HBO and Showtime, the premium channels, have historically been more interested in building up their house fighters for future PPV cash-outs than in making good fights with an eye to building the sport. Showtime has recently bucked this trend, to their credit, but even so their cards feature 'name' fighters who have already achieved a certain level of fame.
Against this backdrop I don't see how DLH vs PBF was supposed to 'save' anything, even if the fight delivered action and drama on par with Hagler/Hearns (vanishingly unlikely given the participants).
Floyd is the greatest defensive fighter currently active, with lightning quick reflexes, fast, nimble feet & possessing ring wisdom & tactical savvy on par with the all-time greats. Oscar in his prime was a splendid combination of power and offensive technique, with enough movement and defense mixed in to befuddle less skilled opponents (as when he exposed Tito Trinidad's limitations over the first 7 rounds of their clash back in 1999).
But Oscar's prime is in the rear view mirror. His last great performance was the first fight with Shane Mosley back in 2000, a fight he lost. And boxing punishes seemingly insignificant losses of reflexes and timing like no other sport. In any other venue your employment is in jeopardy when you start to slip...in boxing, slippage is ambrosia to the promotional vultures circling overhead who see a 'name' to pad the resume of their rising stars with.
So, I didn't expect much from the actual fight.
The build up, though. That's something else entirely- the anticipation of a truly huge, important fight is unique.
The lead time to an 'event' fight can be staggering.
In this case, it was literally 7 years in the making.
Floyd started calling out DLH when he was still champion at 130 pounds, and at the time everyone laughed about it. DLH was fighting two divisions north, at 147, and he was a BIG welterweight. Floyd was having trouble making 130, but when he moved up to 135 you got the sense he could have stayed there for the rest of his career if he chose. He's slightly built and not naturally big.
But Floyd recognized then that Oscar was the last huge draw in the sport and by far the biggest potential payday within 20 pounds of his own weight, so he started moving up. And up. And up.
His journey greatly annoyed many fans, myself included, because what you got was a transcendent fighter in the prime of his career leaving a weight that was absolutely perfect for him for uncharted waters. And every step of the way he would take one fight against a relatively nonthreatening opponent to see how he carried the weight. Then a 'title eliminator' against a gatekeeper-type fighter to set him up for a 'title shot' against some nondescript holder of a minor belt, so he could claim to be a 'champion' at the weight.
He wasted years this way, battling the adequate (Chop Chop Corley, Victoriano Sosa) the outmatched (poor Aurturo Gatti) and the excrable (Henry Bruseles, who shouldn't have been in the same arena as Floyd, let alone the same ring).
Basically fighting seven years of "stay busy" fights in a sport where one loss can derail your entire career. A Floyd with one loss isn't nearly as appealing to a monument like De La Hoya as a Floyd with an unblemished record and a reputation as the best pound for pound fighter in the sport.
It made good business sense, however competitively underwhelming it was. Floyd was more than happy to trade the regard of hardcore fans for the chance to bask in the warmth of the brightest spotlight left in the sport.
(note to DT: I'm not forgetting the Castillo fights, but they don't fit my narrative so I'm ignoring them. =P)
So, that journey to within striking distance of Oscar took five-ish years.
Then there's year or so when everyone noticed that Floyd was only a few pounds below Oscar and was still looking good. Oscar stopped laughing the fight off. Then rumors circulated that they were 'in talks'.
And at last we round the final corner of the long road to this fight, the 9 months or so after they sign the fight and both men enter training.
This convoluted, lengthy buildup to major bouts is the primary cause of what Pelf calls "big fight fever".
The other contributor is that boxing is indisputably the Theater of the Unexpected.
It is the one sport where you never think you've seen it all, because you KNOW that the next fight you watch, however humble it may appear on the surface, carries in its heart the seeds of unparalleled drama, even greatness. And also the seeds of desperate tragedy, or comedy, or surreality.
I've seen fights that result in fatalities. I've seen a fight where a guy got knocked out cold, and as he lay on the canvas staring blindly at the lights he was still throwing punches. I've seen a fight interrupted by a paraglider with a fan strapped to his back crashing into the ring...and this being boxing, triggering a riot. Most people have seen a fight where a desperate bully deliberately bit a chunk out of his opponent's ear.
And, with specific relevance, I've seen several fights where a seemingly invincible fighter in the prime of their career stepped in against an aging veteran and got KNOCKED THE FUCK OUT by one perfectly placed blow.
You just never know.
So even with a fight where I'm 99% certain of the outcome....I know in my bones that anything can happen. And there is no greater aphrodisiac than the unknown.
(coming soon- the actual fight =P)
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