LAS VEGAS - As ancillary sporting events go, the boxing weigh-in is as exciting as watching paint dry. Two guys strip down to their skivvies and step on the scales to have their poundage officially determined. Usually, that's all there is to it.
Usually, but not always.
There have been some memorable moments in weigh-in history, generally involving emotionally wired fighters who feel an intrinsic need to add a touch of drama to even the dullest of formalities. Who can forget when the young Cassius Clay (you know him better as Muhammad Ali) was so manic during the weigh-in for his first bout with then-heavyweight champion Sonny Liston in Miami Beach that a ring physician checked his pulse on the spot and found it to be racing to such an extent that the challenger's health was said to be in the danger zone?"This boy is scared to death," the good doctor told reporters. Not one of his better diagnoses.
The weigh-in for the Hector Camacho-Ray "Boom Boom" Mancini fight in Reno, Nev. - held at the ungodly local time of 2 a.m. as a compromise because the two men couldn't agree on the date - saw the exhibitionistic Camacho, on the pretext that he might be a couple of ounces over the limit, literally drop his drawers as he simultaneously advised the women in attendance to look away if they might be offended. In most settings, someone exposing himself like that might result in an arrest. The Macho Man got away with flashing as security personnel stood idly by. It was boxing, after all.
Then there was the time when Bernard "The Executioner" Hopkins decided to spice his weigh-in the day before his fight with Winky Wright in Las Vegas by shoving Wright in the face, nearly precipitating a brawl on the stage. Hopkins drew a fine from the Nevada State Athletic Commission for that breach of conduct. Maybe he'd have fared better in the wee hours in Reno.
Perhaps because it was Hopkins (50-5-1, 32 KOs) and Roy Jones Jr. (54-6, 40 KOs), each prone to posturing, preening and occasionally pushing, a couple of thousand spectators showed up in the Mandalay Bay Events Center yesterday afternoon to see tonight's main-event fighters show off their impressive abs and talk the obligatory smack.
Before the principals arrived from separate directions, ring announcer Michael Buffer did an impromptu entrance poll.
"How many of you are for Roy Jones Jr.?" Buffer asked, with a majority of those in attendance sounding their approval on the applause meter for the Pensacola, Fla., native.
"How many are for Bernard Hopkins?" Buffer then asked, which drew a somewhat less enthusiastic response for the pride of North Philadelphia. In a town where sports gambling is legal, that can mean only one thing: More people had placed wagers on Jones, a 4-1 underdog.
The actual weigh-in wasn't as noteworthy as some have been involving the unfriendly fortysomethings. Hopkins hit the light-heavyweight limit of 175 pounds on the nose; Jones, wearing nothing but gray underwear and a multicolored watch cap, came in at 175 1/2.
"A half-pound over. No problem," Buffer told the crowd. "Usually a trip to the men's room takes care of that."
Jones thanked spectators for coming out, saying, "I took this chump a long time ago [in 1993], but now he got it coming again."
Hopkins declined the opportunity to speak, but, in keeping with his history for gag gifts, presented Jones with an Easter basket full of goodies. Jones gave it right back, peeking inside and saying, "It got Viagra, arthritis [medication] . . . old man stuff," which drew a few chuckles.
Jones had an hour to pare the disallowable half-pound, but he didn't need it. Off came the underwear and the watch cap, followed by another mounting of the scales before most fans had exited the arena. Buffer excitedly declared, "One seventy-five! We have a fight!"
In case you're wondering, members of Jones' support crew held up a towel in front of him so no one could see him in the altogether.
Who knew he was so modest? *
fernanb@phillynews.com
Source: philly.com
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