Archive for Boxing
And murder. Must not forget about murder.
This little excerpt from a Guardian article requires minimal setup, so I’ll just roll with it:
Anyway, it is the pigeons – always the pigeons – that recently brought Mike back to the neighbourhood, along with the inevitable TV crew filming for his new reality series. “Brownsville’s all upscale now,” a bewildered Tyson explains to this month’s Details magazine. “This white woman come up,” he recalls of the visit, “and I’m thinking: Wow. When I was a kid, she would’ve been robbed and raped, left for dead. This is a real strange scenario, and I just wanted to cry. I’m like: ‘Who am I? Where’s my heritage?’”
Wow. You know, at this point, it’s not even amusing to make fun of the poor, pitiful bastard that Mike Tyson has become. As the years pass and the once indestructible boxer is further and further removed from his glory days, the sadder his tale becomes. He has become an over-sensitized parody of himself and the once-feared greatness that struck fear in the hearts of his opponents.
Sure, a lot of it he has brought upon himself – even Tyson, who was taught from a young age that he was invincible and infallible, realizes that – but I cannot help but feel pity for the clearly broken man and for how far he has fallen. He is essentially piss poor, his career in the only thing he was ever taught how to do, for all intents and purposes, is finished and those are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the glacial-sized enormity of the man’s many problems. Remember, Tyson had to bury his young daughter, Exodus, just last year after a tragic accident in his home. Heavy, heartbreaking stuff.
It makes you hope that one day, Mike Tyson will receive his redemption, either in this world or the next. Or maybe not. Perhaps it’s just me that wishes for that for Tyson. Maybe I’m just a sorry-ass sap. At least when I go back to my old neighborhood, it doesn’t cause me to think about rape and murder. I guess I should feel pretty lucky about that. Iron Mike sure cant.
A misty-eyed Mike Tyson hankers after the bad old days [The Guardian]
Child’s death is latest awful chapter for Tyson [NBC Sports/AP]
Not only did Yuri Foreman have to unfortunately surrender his WBA super welterweight title to Miguel Cotto on Saturday night at Yankee Stadium after he re-aggravated a knee injury when he slipped on a wet portion of the canvas, he now has to deal with explaining why his wife, former-boxer-turned-comely-model Leyla Leidecker, is cocking off and threatening to punch the referee who officiated the bout in the face.
Leidecker contends that the fight should have been halted immediately in the seventh round after Foreman re-injured his knee. Instead, Foreman’s trainer, Joe Grier, was forced to throw in the towel in the eighth round when the hobbled Foreman could scarcely defend himself from the onslaught of punches from Cotto any longer, but referee Arthur Mercante allowed the fight to continue. I consider myself a casual fan of boxing, but I happened to catch the fight Saturday evening and Leidecker could be seen jumping up and down and yelling after Foreman slipped. Even worse, a frustrated and angry Leidecker had this to say about Mercante in the tunnel a short time after the fight (via the New York Daily News):
“They had to stop it,” she said. “He wasn’t in any condition to continue fighting. Why put him in the situation of getting hurt more? There was no use continuing. He wasn’t going to win. There was no miracle that was going to happen. What was the point? Maybe I should just punch the referee in his face.”
Rawr. Is it just me, or does the thought of the blonde bombshell pictured above laying a beatdown on an embattled referee a major turn on? Come to think of it, the thought of her working on a crossword puzzle in a frumpy nightgown even makes me a little tingly.
In any event, she could kick the ever-living crap out of me any time she liked. I won’t even try to defend myself – or put on any pants.
Yuri Foreman’s wife Leyla Leidecker on Cotto fight: ‘Maybe I should punch the referee in his face’ [New York Daily News]
It was an open and shut case. You know, because Valero hung himself ;ast night while in police custody. That ties up the case in a nice little bow for investigators, doesn’t it?
Valero was arrested Sunday morning by the Carabobo State Police in Mexico after apparently confessing to hotel security that he had murdered his 24-year-old wife, Jennifer Carolina Viera de Valero, at the InterContinental hotel in Valencia. Authorities state that Valero hung himself with his own clothes at some point overnight.
As a boxer, Valero was 27-0, winning all his fights by knockout, but was currently serving a suspension imposed by the WBC. Some thought he could have been a potential opponent for Manny Pacquiao. Not so much anymore.
WBC lightweight champion Edwin Valero arrested on suspicion of murdering wife [Telegraph]
Edwin Valero kills himself after arrest for wife’s murder, say police [The Guardian]
After becoming incredibly emotional, including open weeping, after his corner stopped his September 26th fight against Vitali Klitschko, Chris Arreola “worked blue” and swore during his post-fight interview. Now the boxer has been suspended for six months.
Tears flowed freely as he thanked the crowd and the boxer later relied on some industrial language to express his intent to hit back following the defeat.
World Boxing Council president Jose Sulaiman took a very dim view of the use of a swear word in Arreola’s post-fight interview, however, and on Tuesday proposed the 28-year-old be banned from competing for six months.
The WBC’s board of governors approved the sanction at the body’s annual convention in Jeju, South Korea.
Industrial language? That’s the first time I have ever heard swearing described that way. If someone were to ask me what I thought “industrial language” meant without the context of this story, I would have guessed it was a secret form of communication that Al Jourgensen, Trent Reznor and the guys from Skinny Puppy used to interact as they made plans for world domination. Did I mention I still think it’s 1995?
Heavyweight fighter banned for industrial language [Reuters]
Evander Holyfield, who apparently is still boxing, will have a new nickname the next time he steps into the ring: The Lean Green Fighting Machine.
It appears that during periods of cognitive awareness, Holyfield has realized that something needs to be done about the environment, and who better than a washed-up, well-past-his-prime boxer to take up the cause?
“I guess I’m lean and green,” Holyfield said in a telephone interview with The Associated Press. “I’m pretty much going to do all I can to fight against global warming. I’ll see what I can do to help and try to help other people who want to do the same thing.”
Holyfield, who now is to boxing what Al Gore is to boring documentaries, is coming out against global warming with fists flying. He is building a 40-acre solar energy farm at his home in Atlanta as well as setting an acre aside for organic agriculture.
“A mission as big as this needs someone who is recognized through the whole world,” Holyfield said. “We as a people have to come together to save this planet.”
Very true. And when a person who is as known for getting his ear bitten off by Mike Tyson than anything else comes up and tells you to help clean up the environment, you damn well better listen.
Hopefully, Holyfield’s vision of a better environment is less deluded than his vision of where his boxing career is headed.
“I will be the undisputed heavyweight champion of the world,” he said, repeating a familiar pledge. “I’m sure I will be champion next year sometime.”
Next year sometime? Hey, that’s about when Holyfield will give up this whole saving-the-environment endeavor and move on to his next cause: figuring out how to not drool when he tries to remember his name.
I know I’ll be pulling for him.
Holyfield now lean, green [ESPN, AP]
Heh. Arreola. That must be Spanish for nipple.
In his fight Saturday night against a favored and more talented fighter, Vitali Klitschko, Arreola hopes to score one for all of the unfortunately-named boxers that came before him: Sammy Testeez, Boris Vasdeferens, Hugh Scrote, Ted Fallopian, Tommy Foreskin and most importantly, the strangely named Eric Ejaculatorygland. Seriously, what kind of name is that? French?
Arreola finally takes fighting seriously [The Associated Press]
Holy Crap, Muhammad Ali Is Irish?
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And yet he accomplished so much with his life. Amazing.
Muhammad Ali paid a visit to the hometown of his Irish ancestors Tuesday.
Tens of thousands are awaiting the three-time world heavyweight champion’s arrival Tuesday in the western Irish town of Ennis, the home of Ali’s great-grandfather Abe Grady. Fans have adorned shops and streets with posters of Ali and red, white and blue USA bunting.
Well, it’s about time – I didn’t think they would do it, considering the backlash they are going to receive from feminists like Gloria Vanderbilt and Jenna Jameson, women’s boxing will be part of 2012 Olympics in London, and I have to say, I’m thrilled with the news.
“It’s a great addition,” IOC president Jacques Rogge said. “The sport of women’s boxing has progressed a lot, a tremendous amount, in the last five years. It was about time to include it in the Olympic Games.”
Ain’t that the truth. Instead of homely women like Tonya Harding and Oscar De La Hoya competing, we have lovely ladies like those pictured above competing.
Female boxers will compete in three weight classes, with 12 competitors each in flyweight, lightweight and middleweight. To make room for the 36 boxers, one of the 11 men’s classes will be dropped.
So it’s going to be just like Olympic men’s boxing, with headgear, scoring and all that crap? What about the big-as-pillow gloves, bikinis and the thrill one experiences whenever there is possibility for gratuitous nudity?
No, this isn’t right. We don’t want to watch women pummel other women in a sporting fashion. If the Bible has taught us nothing else – and it hasn’t – it’s that girls should stick to girls’ sports, such as hot-oil wrestling, foxy boxing, and such-and-such.
I couldn’t have said it any better. Here’s to you, Homer Simpson, or more accurately, the struggling comedian they had writing for The Simpsons that season.
Women’s boxing added to 2012 London Olympics [The Seattle Times/AP]
“I’m going to go get married in Las Vegas!!”
Huh?
George Foreman III (left, along with George, Sr. and George IV) will make his professional debut in the ring Saturday when he fights Clyde Weaver in Kinder, Louisiana.
Nicknamed Monk, this was not the route his legendary father would have chosen for 6’5″, 240 pound heavyweight, but now George, Sr. supports his son’s decision, acting as Monk’s trainer and manager. The 60-year-old former heavyweight champion, who had a career record of 76-5 (68 by K.O.) even hopped in the ring to spar with his son.
“So he walks in there, doesn’t smile at me, doesn’t tell me anything, says ‘no pointers,’ ” Monk said. “He goes off in the corner, puts his headgear on by himself, didn’t give me any coaching for three days and he just pulverized me.”
And that, my friends, is how you raise a boy to not turn out to be a sissy, like so many kids are these days: step into the ring and pound the tar out of them.
Nah, I’m just kidding. Beating your kids is never appropriate – unless you are both wearing headgear and in between the ropes, then all bets are off.
In a way, I guess George, Sr. realizes that if you have the skills, you might as well put them to good use and make some money of off them. Unfortunately for George III, the kind of marketing and endorsement opportunities – like shilling for Meineke, for instance – which made his father more money than he ever earned in the ring as well as a very rich man probably won’t be there when Monk retires.
You know, because with flying cars that run on a combination of hydrogen and urine, mufflers won’t be necessary anymore. Man, the future is going to be awesome.
His Father in His Corner, George Foreman III Is Set for Boxing Debut [The New York Times/AP]
