THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Saturday, March 16, 1996 TAG: 9603160495
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C1 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Column
SOURCE: Tom Robinson
LENGTH: Medium: 67 lines
It's a couple years later and I still remember my disgust. A real sense of violation. And the cheesy sight and sound of Don King made it that much worse.
Virginia Beach's Sweetpea Whitaker had just finished taking apart the previously invincible Julio Cesar Chavez in a San Antonio boxing ring. He controlled Chavez like no other man had or could.
Watching the pay-per-view telecast with friends, I joined the majority opinion. It was obvious in that living room and around the country that Whitaker had won a convincing decision. He boxed to near perfection. There seemed little doubt of the result.
Somehow, in that moment, the facts of life eluded me. I had allowed myself to forget that Whitaker-Chavez was a Don King production. That Chavez was King's fighter. And that, with King, you could never count on anything being as it seemed.
You know what happened. The decision was announced and everybody sat stunned. Jaws dropped, Whitaker's included. Incredibly, the fight had been ruled a draw.
No winner. No loser - except for me and every other dupe who kicked in money to watch this affront to decency and common sense.
So then there was King moments later, on the screen, yammering away about a rematch. Gotta have a rematch. The public deserves a winner, ya-da-da, ya-da-da-da, ya-da-da. Gotta bring these two champions together again - which, by the way, has never happened because Chavez can't beat Whitaker.
Gotta do it on pay-per-view, of course.
No thanks. Not for me. Pay-per-view lost me forever that night, and my part of the kitty was only $5 or something. Watching Whitaker fight was well worth it, but the taint of the decision and aftermath was and remains overwhelming.
It was as though King's hands had slithered out of the TV and into my pocket, lifting the bill from my wallet as he patted me on the back.
I think of this whenever we're assaulted with commercials for the next big fight on pay-per-view. In this case, it is Mike Tyson vs. Frank Bruno tonight. At stake is some portion of the fractured heavyweight championship. I'm not sure which portion and don't care to know.
I used to have a strange interest in Tyson's fights, back when he fought on HBO, before all the terrible movies HBO shows drove me to cancel. You can't really call me a fight fan, but I admit the violent, young Tyson was like a train wreck that both appalled and fascinated me.
The primal terror on the face of Carl ``The Truth'' Williams as Tyson stalked and squashed him early in their bout was nothing I'd seen before from a professional. Somewhere I have a tape of Larry Holmes laid out on the canvas, his leg involuntarily quivering, after Tyson knocked him cold.
Brutal stuff. Happily, though, I'm over my Tyson phase. No turning back, either, particularly if doing so means padding King's bottom line.
I urge you to do your part, too. I know Don ``Only in America'' King is still going to make scads of money. His tentacles are too enmeshed in every part of the unregulated boxing business.
It just won't be any of your money. That should make you feel good. For me, a refusal to pay-per-view into King's domain is a simple, satisfying means of protest for his past and future sins. Cleansing in a way, rather than sparking the need for a good hosing down.
Try it and see. Remember the heist of Sweetpea Whitaker.
Don't do the pay-per-view. by CNB