BUILDING MOMENTUM

Weather New York fight fans want to acknowledge it or not, Saturday night, 6 December, produced an even bigger storm than the 14 inches of snow that blanketed the five boroughs. At Madison Square Garden, the damp and soggy heavyweight division, seemingly unable to compensate for the ageing of its biggest names, was lifted by the thunderous fists of 32-year-old Ukrainian giant Vitali Klitschko. His second-round knockout of contender Kirk Johnson was as swift, overwhelming, and conclusive as a tornado, and meteorologically speaking or otherwise, the division has a force to marvel at.

But the near future doesn’t necessarily call for sunnier skies. Also produced was a frustration that Klitschko’s biggest fights might never happen. The future of Lennox Lewis, the only world champion who matters, remains cloudy. Lewis seems intent on disappearing his way into the Hall of Fame. Hell, we’d even settle for a walk in the rain for Mike Tyson, who crashed Klitschko’s postfight press conference. After Vitali referred to Iron Mike as his boyhood idol and suggested a fight, Tyson meekly said, “Thank you,” then whispered to members of the media that he doesn’t really feel like training.

Klitschko proved a reality. The fans with big dreams, however, went home opening broken umbrellas.

If you’re only as good as your last fight, Klitschko is The Monster Man of the New Millennium. At heavyweight, it doesn’t take much to impress us, so the players of the moment are Klitschko, James Toney, and Roy Jones. There’s also Corrie Sanders, who might not be as good a fighter as Lewis, but is even better at hiding. If Lewis decides to spend the next few years lounging on a beach in Jamaica (an ugly and totally unjustifiable option for anyone, no?), Klitschko, now ranked first by the WBC, will face Sanders for the vacant title. Ten months ago, Sanders crushed little brother Wlad Klitschko much as Vitali just vaporised Johnson, so that match-up is hardly without intrigue.

According to WBC rules (oxymoron?), Lewis must defend against Klitschko by June, or one year after their first encounter, won famously by Lewis on cuts. The politics should play out by the end of January. If not, the winter is going to seem even longer than it really is.

The controversy of the Lewis-Klitschko stoppage aside, the former proved one thing last June: He deserved a second shot. And if Lewis was to again fight in the ring, and not just the courtroom, Klitschko was likely to secure one. Credit him, then, for agreeing to accept a date with Johnson, an underachiever for sure, but also a veteran with speed, skill, and one-punch power.

“I said: ‘Maybe we wait for Lennox,’ but Peter pushed for the fight,” Klitschko said of his manager and promoter, Universum’s Peter Kohl.

Moreover, Klitschko took the fight six months after suffering a war wound in the Lewis fight that required 60 stitches. “With that kind of cut, six months is not enough,” said Teddy Atlas, Johnson’s former trainer.

In the days leading up to the fight, Klitschko was smiling and relaxed, while Johnson was intense and brooding. Klitschko was a 3-1 favourite, but when Johnson weighed in at a career-high 260 pounds (18st 8lbs), bookmakers would have been wise to take the fight off the board. For the most significant wins of his 11-year career, Johnson scaled 232 for Oleg Maskaev (in 2000) and 239 for Larry Donald (2001). He weighed 247 for his previous start, a fourth-round KO of Lou Savarese in March ’03.

The weigh-in was held at one of the Garden’s outdoor lobbies, so Johnson was bundled up. He said his own scale had read 243, but it’s difficult to believe that he was clothed in 17 pounds of sweat suits — unless he was sponsoring the new iron-lined models released by Fila.

Suffice to say that come fight night, Bubba Johnson’s love handles were the envy of Butterbeans the world over. ESPN referred to him as “a tub of goo”, and HBO’s Larry Merchant said Klitschko “harpooned the whale”.

Urged on by a vocal and supportive crowd, the 6ft 7ins Klitschko, 250lbs (17st 12lbs), currently fighting out of Los Angeles via Kiev, Ukraine, opened with a style that defines the stand-up European heavyweight. The stances of most fighters place them perpendicular to the canvas. With feet a mile apart and back slightly arched, Klitschko creates a 110-degree angle — and the impression that only a fighter on stilts could possibly reach him with a punch.

Klitschko is stiff, but not without skills. He was immediately tested by Johnson, out of Dallas, Texas, via North Preston, Nova Scotia, Canada, who eschewed his stick-and-move game plan by instantly bombing away. It wasn’t as desperate and suicidal a strategy as that exhibited by Michael Grant vs Lewis in the same ring in April 2000, but the results were similar.

Klitschko carried his left hand low, but Johnson still couldn’t reach him with windmill right hands. Nor were the Canadian’s left hooks, launched from the floor, on target. “Kirk tried to get the guy out of there,” said former welterweight champion Curtis Cokes, who trains Johnson. “He saw some openings and he missed by inches.”

In boxing, of course, one inch might as well be a mile.

Far more patient, Klitschko, 33-2 (32 KOs), was also far more accurate. As soon as Klitschko connected with a ramrod jab here and a left-right there, Johnson, 34-2-1 (25 KOs), turned tentative. Klitschko used the round to gain his range, and easily won the stanza to boot.

In the second, Klitschko, who often relies on the old one-two, showed some creativity. He shook Johnson with a lead hook, and when presented with a square target, drove a heavy right to the body. Moving his prey to the ropes with a pair of rights, Klitschko trapped Johnson with less than a minute remaining. A savage jab and two more rights downed Johnson. He delayed the inevitable by rising, but when he positioned himself in a corner, Klitschko’s work was made easy. The final flurry featured six punches, including a jab and a right to the body that made Johnson’s fat jiggle. When Johnson fell for a second time, referee Arthur Mercante Jr waved the fight over without a count.

The time of the stoppage was two minutes, 54 seconds of round two. The judges were Melvina Lathan, Fred Ucci, and Tom Kaczmarek.

Playing to the TV cameras, Klitschko said, “Hello, Lennox. I know you saw the fight, too. I was ready to beat you six months ago, and I’m ready to beat you now.”

“I promoted Lennox Lewis for 10 years,” said Dino Duva, now an impartial observer, “and I honestly believe tonight will give Lennox motivation to fight Vitali Klitschko.”

Until he officially retires, Lewis remains the sun around which all other heavyweights revolve. And right now the sun is shining on the beaches of Jamaica. But it’s not nearly as pleasant for the rest of the division.

So how’s the weather up there, big guy? What’s the forecast? And exactly when is the reign gonna end?

During his postfight interview with Merchant, Joe Mesi said all the right things. In fact, he sounded rather upbeat, trying to sell the this-was-a-good-learning-experience nonsense.

Five minutes later, Mesi, 28-0 (25 KOs), slumped in a folding chair in the relative privacy of his dressing room. There was only one media member to deal with, as opposed to millions of viewers, and he wasn’t about to mask his true feelings.

“I’m very disappointed,” he said, his head bowed and his left eye swollen almost shut.

The members of Team Mesi looked as if they had just learned about a tragic accident. I had to remind myself that I was visiting the dressing room of the winner.

In his first real test as a pro, the heavily hyped Mesi, 237lbs, from Buffalo, New York, built a sizeable lead over six rounds, then barely hung on to score a majority 10-round decision over local veteran Monte Barrett, 215lbs, from Queens, New York. Scores: 95-93 (Arthur Mercante), 94-93 (Joe Dwyer), and 94-94 (Tom Schreck). Boxing Monthly scored 96-92 for Mesi.

In the days leading up to the fight, there was talk that the 30-year-old Mesi, whose bout with Barrett was the first in a three-fight deal with HBO, might next tackle Klitschko in March. Now that bout would seem a mismatch. For “Baby Joe”, the most sensible course of action would seem a rematch with Barrett in Buffalo, or perhaps a showdown with fringe contender Lawrence Clay-Bey, who defeated Mesi in the finals of the United States Olympic Trials in 1996.

This was a fairly exciting, albeit uneven, contest in which both fighters scored knockdowns. Seeking his third consecutive first-round KO, Mesi lunged with his right hand from the start. He was clearly overanxious, but Barrett, 29-3 (16 KOs), failed to take advantage.

When throwing compact punches, Mesi repeatedly caught Barrett with rights. One such punch buckled the New Yorker halfway through round two, and another, delivered just as Barrett started a jab, drove him into the ropes in the fifth. Barrett regained his balance only after sitting on the third strand of rope, and referee Arthur Mercante Jr correctly ruled a knockdown. There was plenty of time to seek a finish, but Barrett turned southpaw for the remainder of the round and Mesi seemed clueless. “You can’t rush in when you have a guy hurt because that’s when he’s most dangerous,” was Mesi’s excuse.

After yet another right hand enabled him to win the sixth, Mesi was far ahead on points; Mercante had given him the third round and Schreck did the same in the fourth. Otherwise, he was pitching a shutout. Who could have guessed that from the seventh through the 10th, Mesi would win only one round on only one card?

Fifteen seconds into the seventh, Barrett, who had been drawing Mesi to him, stepped in as his opponent started a left hook. Boom! Barrett’s hook arrived first and Mesi was on the floor for the first time in his career. Awkward as ever, and punching with his chin pointing dangerously in the air, Barrett followed with rights, a right uppercut, and a left uppercut shot from the hip. He landed 32 powerpunches in the stanza, and by the bell, Mesi’s left eye was ballooning.

Nothing of note happened in the eighth, which Barrett won by scoring with a handful of rights, or the ninth. The 10th was livelier, with a bouncing Mesi landing early and Barrett walking forward and winging mostly inaccurate hooks and rights late.

“I’m very upset with myself,” Mesi said. “I promised myself I wouldn’t be crazy. I promised myself I wouldn’t be desperate.”

“I won the fight; it was clear,” the 32-year-old Barrett said. “Usually I’m the one who’s cut up and everything. Look at him and look at me.”

That there was a fight at all was a small miracle. Three weeks before fight night, Mesi suffered a four-stitch cut over his right eye opening a car door. He missed about 10 days of training and didn’t spar again.

“We’re not making excuses, but …” said Jack Mesi, Baby Joe’s father and manager.

Given the bubble-bursting performance of his son, Jack didn’t have to excuse himself for making excuses. The expectations won’t be quite as high next time.

For additional coverage of this show, see January 2004 issue