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January 2001
Each month we bring you a selection of articles from the current and past issues of BOXING MONTHLY. To buy the magazine, see our subscription or back issues pages, or use our world distribution map to find a news-stand copy. Why not use our Interactive Forum to express your own boxing comments and opinions!
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X FILES
Lost interviews from the boxing twilight zone or just STEVE FARHOOD flipping out again? Make your own minds up |
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MOSLEY: obviously has hidden psychopathic tendencies, according to the author
- Get Big Pic Note: The following Q&As may or may not have occurred, depending on your imagination. Nothing short of a court order will convince Mr. Farhood to release the tapes. Shortly before Shane Mosley defended at Madison Square Garden against Antonio Diaz, I caught up with the undefeated welterweight at a downtown Manhattan homeless shelter, where he was serving soup to the hungry. BM: Shane, you're a boxing rarity: a big-time fighter who is also a well-adjusted young man. But I've done some digging, and I've learned that four years ago, you murdered three tourists, including an 84-year-old great-grandmother, and buried them near your home in Pomona, California. Dare you deny this? SM: Sorry, Steve, but that's a total fabrication. In fact, we don't get too many tourists in Pomona. By the way, can I ask who told you this ridiculous story? BM: I'm sorry, Shane, but it would be very unprofessional of me to reveal my sources. SM: I understand. BM: While we're on the subject, a story from a weekly newspaper in your community reveals that at age 12, you robbed a local merchant of a Baby Ruth candy bar, a pack of baseball cards, and 76 cents at knife-point. Seems the cover-up worked-until now. SM: Excuse me, but can I see that newspaper story? BM: (Pause) Uh ... I just remembered - my dog peed on it. SM: Steve, you once told me that in the apartment complex where you live, they don't allow pets. BM: Well, how about my editor peed on it? SM: Much better. Regardless, I fully deny the accusation. My dad once gave me a Swiss Army knife for Christmas, but I used it only to open bottles of soda pop. Sugar-free soda pop, of course. (Giggles) BM: Oh, you're a slippery one, Shane. A slippery one indeed. But those were only warm-up questions to establish a tone. Let's get to the real stuff: The priest at your church told a clergyman, who spoke to a parishioner, who confided in an alter boy, that on a recent Sunday, you confessed to using the f-word when your mother insisted you eat Brussels sprouts at Thanksgiving dinner in 1998. SM: (Exasperated) Priest? Confession? I'm not even Catholic! BM: Without a single felony conviction, without any warts or scars or skeletons in the closet, without any paranoia or neurosis or deep-seeded insecurities, what kind of world champion can you possibly profess to be? SM: I suppose that's for others - for boxing writers like you - to decide. BM: Well, it's clear to me that you're a total fraud. Let's get one more thing out in the open: Were you or were you not situated on the grassy knoll in Dallas on the day that President John F. Kennedy was assassinated? BM: You seem to have excuses for everything. If you're not going to be forthright, I see no point in continuing. (Disgustedly) Thanks for nothing. SM: (Smiling) Thank you, Steve, and God bless you. It takes exceptional fortitude and persistence to secure an interview with Mike Tyson. A few days after "Iron Mike" stopped Andrew Golota, I tracked down the former heavyweight champion in the backyard of his home in Las Vegas. He was wearing a yarmulke and a tallis. BM: Hey, Mike, what's with the bar mitzvah threads? MT: (Excitedly) Halloween's in 11 days. Sneaks up on me every year. I'm going trick-or-treating. Gonna fatten up Lennox Lewis's children with the candy all the white folks give me. I hear sugar-overdose makes the little ones plump and juicy. (Salivating) Yum yum yum. BM: Zat so? Hate to ruin your feast, Mikey Boy, but Lennox doesn't have any children. MT: That's okay. When we fight, it'll be in the contract: If I win, he gets a rematch. If he wins, I get his first- and second-born offspring. Hope they're boys. I find girls a bit tart. Know what I mean? BM: Sure do. No offense intended, but it's difficult to picture Mike Tyson trick-or-treating, much less dressed as a rabbi. MT: Are you kidding me? Wouldn't miss it for the world. In fact, I postponed one of the Razor Ruddock fights because it was near Halloween. That was the year Kevin Rooney lent me his Shirley Temple outfit. It was a little snug around the thighs, but I managed. BM: People actually open their doors and give you candy? MT: Hey, in Catskill, New York, how often do you think they see a 230-pound black man dressed as Shirley Temple? [Tyson begins to sing "On The Good Ship Lollipop."] I just hope none of the sadistic assholes out there gives me an apple with a razor blade hidden inside. I used to play that trick when I was a kid. If you think Henry Armstrong bled from the mouth during that win over Lou Ambers ... BM: Returning to the subject of Mr. Lewis, do you really want to fight him? MT: (Furiously) Fight him? I'll take a machete to his big fat butt! I'll blow him away with the gun O.J. meant to use! I'll sneak a chainsaw into the ring and spray the working press with that damn Brit's shredded skin! Forget his ears; I'll bite out Lewis's liver and serve it at the post-fight party with fava beans and a bottle of Chianti! BM: But will you fight him? You know, in the conventional sense, wearing Everlasts, man to man? MT: Oh, no. He's way too big for that. I could get hurt. BM: Right-o. One last thing, Mike. If you ever knocked on Don King's door on Halloween, do you think you'd get a trick or a treat? MT: You kiddin'? That egg-sucking dog is all about trickeration. I hear he's so cheap, he gives out pennies to the kids instead of candy. Then again, if he gave me five pennies, that would reduce my lawsuit against him to $999,999.95. Hey, it's a start. You know his address? Since his loss to Shane Mosley in June, Oscar De La Hoya has been a busy man. I chased down "The Golden Boy" at a record store in Los Angeles, where he was hawking his cleverly titled CD, "Oscar De La Hoya." BM: Oscar, Oscar, Oscar! So good to see you! Last time we were together, you were separated from your title by Sugar Shane Mosley. Will we see a rematch in 2001? OD: Oh, most definitely. I owe Shane one. And besides, how the hell else am I supposed to make $10 million in one night? But you know what bothered me most about that fight? Afterward, I was in the hotel lobby and I overheard a couple of teenage girls saying that Ricky Martin was cuter than Oscar De La Hoya. Can you imagine? Ricky Martin! One left hook to the liver and he's flatter than my voice was before they brought in that singing coach. BM: Back to Mosley for a minute. He beat you fairly convincingly. What makes you think the rematch will be different? OD: I've done a lot of singing, uh, I mean thinking, since that fight, and I've zeroed in on the problem. It's been a lack of focus. I have to go full-throttle on boxing and forget about all the other stuff. (Enthusiastically) Speaking of boxing, I heard big news today: I'm up for the title role in "The Mando Ramos Story". It's only local public-access cable-TV, but hell, you think Freddy Prinze Jr. started with Academy Award-nominated roles? BM: Let the record show that he most definitely did not. OD: But enough about me. Let's talk about you. What do you think of my haircut? Cost me a hunj-and-a-half in Beverly Hills. BM: Gorgeous. Fantastic-o! Don't you think ... OD: (Annoyed) No offense, Steve, but can you give me some room? When you stand that close, your breath tends to have an adverse affect on my makeup. Carbon dioxide and pancake just don't mix. You've done TV. You know that. BM: (Taking a full step back) But of course. Anyway, don't you think that this CD, and all the videos you've shot, keep you from being the best boxer you can be? OD: (Passionately) Exactly! That's what I've been saying! Boxing is all that matters now ... at least as soon as I finish this promotional tour ... and settle all these lawsuits with Bob Arum ... and get back the keys to my house from my ex-girlfriend ... and change trainers three more times ... and placate my pain-in-the-ass father ... and fire my new cutman just for a goof ... and sign another couple of endorsement deals ... and make a move on Christina Aguilera seconds after winning my first Grammy Award. Boxing. Trust me: From now on, it's nothing but boxing. BM: Glad to hear you're refocused. OD: (Confrontationally) And I have one question for you. BM: Shoot. OD: (Smugly) Exactly how many Grammys has Shane Mosley won? BM: Good point. Betcha he sounds lousy when he sings in the shower. One day after Thanksgiving, I scored a major journalistic coup by bagging the first interview conducted with former IBF President Robert W. Lee following his conviction for racketeering and money laundering in August. Much to my surprise, I found Lee, 66, behind a counter in the men's department at Macy's. On the unofficial opening of the Christmas shopping season, he was wearing a Santa Claus outfit and selling ... You guessed it. BM: Bobby Boy, nice beard! Hope there are no hard feelings over the fact that I testified for the government at your trial. RWL: Nah. Strictly business. Besides, you spent all that time detailing and documenting the mysterious movement of all those tiny, meaningless Colombians in the ratings, and the jury acquitted me of accepting bribes. Seems like Santa Bob had the last laugh. BM: Well, it wasn't a total waste of my time. As an expert witness, I did get paid. RWL: Speaking of scratch, you see that man over there with his son? How much you think he weighs? BM: Uh, I don't know. About 140? RWL: (To the man) Excuse me, sir? I have a holiday offer specially designed for you. How'd you like to quit the nine-to-five job that's boring you to death and join the exciting and profitable world of professional prize fighting? For a nominal charge of $299.99, payable in quarterly installments of cash, I can make you the number six junior welterweight in the world! Just sign here on the dotted line. The Man: But I've never even ... RWL: Got no experience? We don't care! Haven't worked out in five years? We don't care! Can't hold your hands up? We don't care! Got no cash? Then we care! (Clearly intrigued, the man signs.) BM: Bob, you can't do that. The current number six hasn't lost in seven years! What are you gonna tell the guy when he asks why he was bumped down? RWL: Hey, you wanna dance, you gotta pay the band! That guy's promoter hasn't sweetened the kitty in three years. The nerve! Besides, Santa Bob has Christmas presents to buy, too, you know. BM: So it's business as usual ... RWL: Well, not everything's the same. For instance, I'm creating a new title: The Septuagenarian Women's World Championship. You see that woman over there? The wrinkled one with the severe osteoporosis and the metal cane? How much you think she weighs? |
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