BY STEVE JANOSKI
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
The first professional fight I ever watched was on Cinco de Mayo, 2007.
That night, a few friends and I had gone to a seedy bar in a rough section of town to watch Floyd Mayweather Jr. and Oscar De La Hoya go to war.
There had been a lot of hard talk before the fight, and I had just begun learning to box myself at the time, so I figured I should watch one or two fights to see what the top dogs did.
It was hardly a memorable fight— a mundane split decision victory for Mayweather that featured a lot of movement and very little brawling.
Regardless, it captivated me, as fighting in any form often captivates young men.
Growing up shorter than the rest of the crowd in my youth, I'd lost my first fight in kindergarten and faired only mildly better in many affairs after, so I knew what it was like early on to get hit.
Why anyone would want to make a profession of such a thing escaped logic to me, but I came to understand it that night.
It was the atmosphere around the ring, which, though filled with movie stars and former fighters and politicians, also has an electrical energy in it, a deadly calm that occurs on the seas right before a hurricane hits.
And then, for its flash and fanfare and fame— then, the brutal, unadulterated violence explodes.
It seems like a simple sport, the base of which comes down to "hit the other guy more, and harder, than he hits you." That's probably why every guy thinks he can do it, or that he knows what he's talking about when watching a fight.
The truth is that they can't, they don't, and that boxing is possibly the most complicated, subtly nuanced sport ever invented.
Even with the advent of Mixed Martial Arts, which seems to be overtaking part of boxing's market, there still is no question which is the "harder" sport.
MMA athletes are warriors just the same, but there are ways in MMA to dodge the brutality that's simply inherent in boxing.
Don't want to get hit in the face? Shoot for his legs. Take him down, make it a grappling match. Try and "tap out" the other guy.
In boxing, you can't tap out. The only way to tap out is to take a knee and let the referee stop the fight, but for real men, literally bowing in the face of an overwhelming opponent can be a soul-shattering experience.
And so we have fighters, guys like Micky Ward or Arturo Gatti or Diego Corrales, who made careers out of being known to never, ever quit, and to go out on their shield in the most literal sense of the term, finishing the fight either standing up or knocked out.
That's a lot to ask for when, after round upon round, you know you're not getting knocked out but the bones and your face feel like they've melded together in one mushy, painful pile, and that one more shot might blow them apart.
Boxing represents all that has left our society, and what lies in the souls of fighters is not found in the souls of those who play basketball or football.
When one of these players spikes the ball in the endzone or dunks on another guy, he's saying, "I've won. I'm harder than you, I'm more of man than you."
Sometimes the dunked on player will take offense, and a shoving match will ensure, maybe even a full blown fight. Because really, that's what all of these games come down to — who's more of a man, and who is the alpha dog.
And when you're looking to settle who is king of the mountain, well, that's settled with fists.
The spectacle of a boxing match is what forms the base for all of these other games that are trying to show who's king without getting beaten to death while doing it — this is why nobody "plays" boxing.
This society as a whole has become overwhelmingly frightened of violence. A cross word can get you sued, dodge ball is banned in schools, and HR departments and "mediators" settle disputes that once might have been settled the old way.
But in truth, a little violence is a good thing.
It's good to know where your limits are, what it feels like to get hit, and the sense of accomplishment you get from being so tired that your lungs are gasoline burnt and you can't hold your arms up and a fighter is trying to kill you…but you still made it through.
That's the kind of thing that boxing slams on the table and shoves towards you. There's no plaudits for those that can't make it, no participation trophies for the "B" level fighters.
Don't want to get hit? Get out of the gym. Not hard enough? You'll get knocked stupid, and no trainer will waste his time on you.
And if you do lose, you've got to admit that there's at least one guy out there who probably could have killed you if he didn't let up or the fight wasn't stopped.
This is one of most sobering thoughts that a human can have.
Email: Janoski@northjersey.com
That night, a few friends and I had gone to a seedy bar in a rough section of town to watch Floyd Mayweather Jr. and Oscar De La Hoya go to war.
There had been a lot of hard talk before the fight, and I had just begun learning to box myself at the time, so I figured I should watch one or two fights to see what the top dogs did.
It was hardly a memorable fight— a mundane split decision victory for Mayweather that featured a lot of movement and very little brawling.
Regardless, it captivated me, as fighting in any form often captivates young men.
Growing up shorter than the rest of the crowd in my youth, I'd lost my first fight in kindergarten and faired only mildly better in many affairs after, so I knew what it was like early on to get hit.
Why anyone would want to make a profession of such a thing escaped logic to me, but I came to understand it that night.
It was the atmosphere around the ring, which, though filled with movie stars and former fighters and politicians, also has an electrical energy in it, a deadly calm that occurs on the seas right before a hurricane hits.
And then, for its flash and fanfare and fame— then, the brutal, unadulterated violence explodes.
It seems like a simple sport, the base of which comes down to "hit the other guy more, and harder, than he hits you." That's probably why every guy thinks he can do it, or that he knows what he's talking about when watching a fight.
The truth is that they can't, they don't, and that boxing is possibly the most complicated, subtly nuanced sport ever invented.
Even with the advent of Mixed Martial Arts, which seems to be overtaking part of boxing's market, there still is no question which is the "harder" sport.
MMA athletes are warriors just the same, but there are ways in MMA to dodge the brutality that's simply inherent in boxing.
Don't want to get hit in the face? Shoot for his legs. Take him down, make it a grappling match. Try and "tap out" the other guy.
In boxing, you can't tap out. The only way to tap out is to take a knee and let the referee stop the fight, but for real men, literally bowing in the face of an overwhelming opponent can be a soul-shattering experience.
And so we have fighters, guys like Micky Ward or Arturo Gatti or Diego Corrales, who made careers out of being known to never, ever quit, and to go out on their shield in the most literal sense of the term, finishing the fight either standing up or knocked out.
That's a lot to ask for when, after round upon round, you know you're not getting knocked out but the bones and your face feel like they've melded together in one mushy, painful pile, and that one more shot might blow them apart.
Boxing represents all that has left our society, and what lies in the souls of fighters is not found in the souls of those who play basketball or football.
When one of these players spikes the ball in the endzone or dunks on another guy, he's saying, "I've won. I'm harder than you, I'm more of man than you."
Sometimes the dunked on player will take offense, and a shoving match will ensure, maybe even a full blown fight. Because really, that's what all of these games come down to — who's more of a man, and who is the alpha dog.
And when you're looking to settle who is king of the mountain, well, that's settled with fists.
The spectacle of a boxing match is what forms the base for all of these other games that are trying to show who's king without getting beaten to death while doing it — this is why nobody "plays" boxing.
This society as a whole has become overwhelmingly frightened of violence. A cross word can get you sued, dodge ball is banned in schools, and HR departments and "mediators" settle disputes that once might have been settled the old way.
But in truth, a little violence is a good thing.
It's good to know where your limits are, what it feels like to get hit, and the sense of accomplishment you get from being so tired that your lungs are gasoline burnt and you can't hold your arms up and a fighter is trying to kill you…but you still made it through.
That's the kind of thing that boxing slams on the table and shoves towards you. There's no plaudits for those that can't make it, no participation trophies for the "B" level fighters.
Don't want to get hit? Get out of the gym. Not hard enough? You'll get knocked stupid, and no trainer will waste his time on you.
And if you do lose, you've got to admit that there's at least one guy out there who probably could have killed you if he didn't let up or the fight wasn't stopped.
This is one of most sobering thoughts that a human can have.
Email: Janoski@northjersey.com
