By HANNAH KARP, The Wall Street Journal
Bernard Hopkins, the 45-year-old prize fighter better known as the Executioner, has never been known for his self-control at media events. In 2001 he ripped a Puerto Rican flag from his opponent Félix Trinidad's hand and threw it on the floor, sparking a riot as the crowd rushed the stage. Two years ago, boxing regulators slapped him with a $200,000 fine for shoving opponent Winky Wright at a weigh-in and instigating a brawl after Mr. Wright made a jab about putting Mr. Hopkins, the sport's oldest middleweight champion, in a nursing home.
But for Tuesday's New York news conference, to announce his long-awaited rematch against 41-year-old Roy Jones Jr., the boxer participated in a more civilized affair: a presidential-style debate, complete with an official moderator and time limits for every response.
"Good evening—good after—good morning," Mr. Hopkins began in his shaky opening remarks, clad in a suit and tie. But the fighter, who has served five years in prison for strong-arm robbery, was slightly worried that the genteel approach might backfire with his fans. As he said earlier: "If you saw two quarterbacks eating breakfast and going golfing together three days before the Super Bowl, you'd think something was wrong."
Last month, seven-division world champion Manny Pacquiao and former welterweight champion Joshua Clottey smiled and sung each other's praises in Dallas to trumpet their March 13 fight.
"He's the best guy and I really like him—he's one of my favorite fighters," gushed Mr. Clottey. Mr. Pacquiao promised they'd do their "best to make people happy."
So why has the prefight news conference, once nearly as tense and unpredictable as the match itself, suddenly gone soft?
Veteran promoters say the physical risks and logistical hassles associated with prebout tussles outweigh the extra ticket sales that brawls can spark, and they've switched strategies. Now, instead of cramming six fighters into a tiny hotel room and waiting for sparks to fly, they roll out the red carpets in spacious venues and script the boxers' jokes in hopes of engineering the knockout sound bite.
"When you give fighters a nice stage, they feel better," says sports publicist Kelly Swanson, whose clients include Mr. Hopkins and Floyd Mayweather. Brawls "get momentary attention but the people watching Sports Center might say, 'Oh, that's just boxing again.' "
Before the 1960s, boxing's prefight interviews were just as sleepy as any other sport's. It was Muhammad Ali who turned the news conference into punchy entertainment when he began reciting poems, predicting the length of his fights and burrowing into the minds of his opponents.
Before his first match with Joe Frazier in 1971, Mr. Ali called him "too ugly to be champ"; before the second, they wrestled on an ABC studio set; before the third, he famously chided how it would be a "thriller when I get the gorilla in Manila."
Such animosity outside the ring intensified as other fighters attempted to mimic Mr. Ali's intimidation tactics, albeit less artfully. Larry Holmes jumped off a parked car and lunged at fellow heavyweight Trevor Berbick in 1991 after a news conference, in which he dismissed the idea of fighting Mr. Berbick. Riddick Bowe hit Larry Donald flush in the face twice at their prefight presser in 1994.
Over the past decade, both promoters and fighters began to question whether the sideshows had gone over the top rope. Promoter Gary Shaw got punched in the face when he tried to stop Ross Thompson from lunging at Fernando Vargas at their Las Vegas news conference in 2000. He faced an even bigger nightmare in 2002 when Mike Tyson bit Lennox Lewis on the leg at their Las Vegas conference.
Another reason today's genteel banter is a far cry from the smack-talking of boxing's former glory days is that many fighters take their behavioral cues from the top dogs of the moment.
Mr. Pacquiao, the world's current No. 1 pound-for-pound fighter, is famously peaceable and running for Congress in the Philippines this May. Light heavyweight champion Chad Dawson brings his 6-year-old son on stage with him at every news conference, while Roy Jones Jr. says he's starting to get used to his opponents calling him the "greatest fighter that ever lived."
Mr. Lewis, now a commentator for HBO, says today's "boring" news conferences may be a result of the decline in the number of stars fighting in the heavyweight division.
"No big tough guy is going to say, 'Oh, my opponent's great and I love him,' " says Mr. Lewis, the former undisputed heavyweight champion who started a scuffle with Hasim Rahman at the news conference before their 2001 fight over a few "misunderstandings" and nearly slipped off the stage in his fancy shoes. (Since then he always wears fighting shoes, "just in case anything happens.")
At the news conference in 2008 to announce his fight against middleweight champion Kelly Pavlik, an uncharacteristically polite Mr. Hopkins praised Mr. Pavlik's bright future and remarked on his undefeated status, which he suspects confused and frightened his young opponent as well as his fans.
"They didn't know what the hell I was thinking," says Mr. Hopkins, who easily defeated Mr. Pavlik in 12 rounds.
Mr. Jones Jr. says he's looking forward to squaring off with Mr. Hopkins Wednesday afternoon in another friendly debate.
Still, he plans to take any kind words from Mr. Hopkins with a big grain of salt. "It's nice to hear he thinks so highly of you but you know he's still gonna try to knock your head off."
—Darren Everson contributed to this article.
Write to Hannah Karp at hannah.karp@dowjones.com
Source: online.wsj.com
***
No comments:
Post a Comment