John Ruiz ditches anger management to right a wrong against David Haye -- The Guardian

By Kevin Mitchell, Guardian.co.uk

It is not surprising that John Ruiz, a former altar boy who grew up in awe of his Latino mother's temper, is happy to be known as The Quiet Man. What few expected when he hit Manchester with whispering dignity today were revelations of sublimated anger. At 38 he sounded like a man who might have had his fill of the business.

Under dull skies that reminded him of his childhood in a tight-knit Puerto Rican community 30 miles from Boston he made the ritual noises about dragging David Haye into the trenches to take away his shiny new WBA heavyweight belt, a bauble Ruiz has owned twice and will contest for the 12th time on Saturday night.

He last saw it disappear from view when Nikolai Valuev outpointed him for the second time in 2008. Neither decision in Germany, the home of doubt, was conclusive. They were setbacks obvious enough to make the calmest soul fume. "I got cheated," Ruiz said. "Maybe enough is enough. Maybe I should have retired. But it happened. I got another opportunity. And thank goodness I'm not fighting Valuev. I'm fighting David Haye."

Haye is Ruiz's polar opposite, a one-time Bermondsey boy scout, a reformed playboy who has developed megaphone tendencies in striving to pump life and cash into a moribund heavyweight scene.

Ruiz knows about Haye's infamous wind-up of Wladimir Klitschko, the severed head tee-shirts. He says he will not fall for similar shenanigans. Haye is not so sure. "It's a little tasteless," Ruiz said, "but it's his style. I would never do it. I've heard it all, I've seen it all. I've been in the sport such a long time I can't let something like that bother me. Anger's been part of my life. But I control it. Come fight time, I go out there and unleash it. That's what boxing is about.

"My stepfather introduced me to boxing. I never knew what it was. I put on the gloves and then, I don't know … I think it comes from my mother. She's a fighter, basically. And she has a hot temper, let's put it that way. If you get in her face, she'll get back at you. She doesn't care who it is, man, woman, whatever."

Yet, for all his seeming reluctance to let boxing or verbose opponents beat him down, he struggles to hide the rage against unfairness. His mother, Gladys Martínez Morales, took multiple low-paid jobs to keep the family together. "She raised us on her own," Ruiz said, "did the best she could. That's what makes her special. She kept fighting, did whatever she could to put food on the table, worked the fish market, all sorts of jobs. At the same time she disciplined us, gave us pride, making sure I didn't forget my Puerto Rican heritage.

"I do enjoy fighting but there are times when, I don't know, maybe it's just the anger inside me. I'm still here, but I'm looking forward to moving on, being with my family. I got a three-year-old now. At the same time, I still have a little fire in me.

"Boxing is a business. If I did a little more talking back then, I would probably have been a billionaire by now. Who knows? But that's who I am. I don't want to change. I'm just here to fight. I try to bring some pride, some honour, to the sport. We were raised Catholic. I was an altar boy. She made sure we stayed on the right path."

It's a path that has covered 54 fights, against quality fighters, including a knockout defeat by David Tua 14 years ago, and leads now to Haye and a seething MEN Arena on Saturday night.

They are curious dancing partners, the altar boy and the boy scout.

"Last time, against Valuev, luck was with him," Ruiz said, slipping back into boxing mindset. "This time, he's got a fight on his hands."

He surely has.

Source: guardian.co.uk