No telling who was first to say that fathers fight so their sons don’t have to. But I’m guessing it was a mom, who from a ringside seat sat like a horrified witness on that inevitable night when dad got bloodied, bruised and stitched up.
It is a powerful sentiment, as simple as it is sensible. But sorry, mom, it doesn’t always apply. Floyd Mayweather Jr. is the most notable example. From his father and uncle, he inherited instinct and skill, perfected them and transformed them into a family business. Mayweather Jr. makes it work. Marvis Frazier didn’t. Former heavyweight great Joe Frazier’s son should have listened to mom before Mike Tyson sprinted out of a corner in 1986 and launched him into unconsciousness. Joe would have lasted longer.
On the scale between Mayweather and Marvis, it’s hard to say where Julio Cesar Chavez Jr. belongs. A better idea, perhaps, is forthcoming Saturday night when the son with his dad’s legendary name, athletic royalty in Mexico, faces Irish middleweight John Duddy at The Alamodome in San Antonio on a pay-per-view card.
Duddy’s credentials (29-1, 18 KOs) say that Chavez (40-0-1, 30 KOs) is finally being weaned off a sliver-spoon diet of soft opposition. It’s a step or two in an attempt to quell impatience with a young fighter whose name represents an impossible collection of expectations. Chavez’ dad is a scarred personification of Mexican pride in a stubborn willingness to endure punches and punishment in the battle to fight, always fight on.
But it’s only a name. I’m not sure whether Chavez’s 24-year-old son will ever become a good fighter. But I am sure that he will never be his father. He can’t change his name to World B Free, but he can begin to abdicate expectations that he become a chip off of Mexico’s indestructible myth. After only a four-week camp, the move to trainer Freddie Roach is still in the experimental stage. If it begins to work against Duddy, however, it might be another step in allowing him to forge an identity, a fighter in his own right instead of just Jr.
“It came to a point in my career that if I wanted to do better,’’ said Jr., whose doubters grew after he tested positive for a banned substance after his last fight seven months ago against unknown Troy Rowland. “If I wanted bigger and better things I had to make a change. I did it because I knew I needed it for my career, I still want to do great things in boxing and that’s what motivated me. I thought: Do I want to stay where I am or do I want to get better? This opportunity came and I took it and I’m very happy that I did.
“Any time you make a move to the unknown you get nervous. I wasn’t sure what to expect but once I made the decision I knew I would be capable of doing anything he asked of me. I knew I could a lot of things and wouldn’t be here now if I couldn’t.”
Unlike his compact father’s heavy-handed style of fighting on the inside in a battle of attrition, the son is longer and seemingly built for tactics dictated by a long jab and agile footwork. The knowledge, perhaps instinct, is there, Roach said in a conference call Wednesday from San Antonio.
“He has enjoyed the work, he really has,’’ Roach said, almost as though he was surprised.
Roach, like everybody else, had heard the stories about a questionable work ethic. Doubts about Jr.’s willingness to fight on were further fueled by a late arrival to Roach’s Wild Card Gym in Los Angeles. It was beginning to look as if Jr. had inherited only his father’s diva-like reputation for arriving for news conferences or workouts whenever it suited him. But, Top Rank promoter Bob Arum said, Jr. was late only because of a paperwork delay in acquiring a visa.
“There were a lot of warning signs about how he is lazy and doesn’t want to work and would last a week with me,’’ said Roach, who agreed to work Jr.’s corner after Arum and Top Rank matchmaker Bruce Trampler pointedly urged Jr. to watch the work ethic exercised by Manny Pacquiao in training for Joshua Clottey. “He is a great kid, great to work with, and is very disciplined. He gets up in the morning and does his roadwork every day, comes in the gym and sparred up to 12 rounds with three sparring partners. Overall, it was a real good experience and we enjoyed each other’s company and it was a pleasure.
“I was going to give him one more day to arrive in camp before deciding I wasn’t going to have enough time with him, but then he showed up. We had four weeks together and obviously it would have been better to have more but next time around we’ll get better and better. We know what we have in front of us and we’ll be ready for it.’’
For Jr., San Antonio represents a time and place, a career cross roads, for his father and maybe one for him. He was seven years old in 1993, when his father escaped from the Alamodome with a draw with Pernell Whitaker. Most of the ringside media scored it for Whitaker. The record crowd, about 60,000 Chavez partisans, didn’t boo. They left quietly, also knowing they had just witnessed a great escape. It was a moment when there were some sure signs of erosion in the Mexican icon. JC Superstar was neither super nor a star.
Seventeen years later, the son returns to the scene with a chance to show that he is his own man, a grown-up instead of a Jr.
Even mom couldn’t argue with that.
