The meaningful part of American welterweight “Vicious” Victor Ortiz’s odd career ended Thursday night in an off-Broadway show with an off-Broadway opponent, about seven miles off Broadway, when Ortiz’s vicious tendencies got him corkscrewed in the blue mat of Brooklyn’s Barclays Center by a second-round right hook from Brooklyn southpaw Luis Collazo, while Ortiz’s own late-arriving right hook was still arriving. It was an ending sad in its own goofy, unpredictable way.
It was not a symmetrical close to a career that has made little sense over the years, but it was a close just the same – for a welterweight titlist does not need a Fight of the Year to best Andre Berto, go winless for the next three years, get his mouth wired shut by a junior welterweight, and then get penanced by Luis Collazo, without his empire needs erecting outside the fight game.
Ortiz was once the brightest prospect in the brightest stable in boxing; he shared top billing with Juan Manuel Lopez seven years ago on a ShoBox card in Phoenix’s Dodge Theater, a card whose photos were accompanied by a caption that read “Top Rank’s New 1-2 Punch.” Lopez, a man later described as a “world class dissipater” by someone who’d know, had a comparatively fulfilling career, despite shortening it with hard living, while Ortiz got himself alternately remembered for telling Staples Center he did not deserve to get beat up, getting his lights vengefully cut by Floyd Mayweather, getting his jaw broken by Josesito Lopez, and getting his face lubed while dancing with the stars.
Ortiz inadvertently leaped, Julio Cesar Chavez Jr.-like, from a dear place in aficionados’ hearts to a ridiculous one. He should not have said what he did to HBO’s viewers after finagling his way out a 2009 match with Argentine Marcos Maidana, telling them that, comfortable as he was with prizefighting’s rewards, he did not approve of its risks, but he never recanted, remaining defiantly defiant about it with those whose ticket and pay-per-view purchases enriched him, saying recently as March: “Sorry I’m not sorry.”
He speared Floyd Mayweather a couple years after losing to Maidana then kept apologizing till Mayweather punched him to make him stop, scoring for “Money May” a second knockout since 2005, and leading to a historic conference call in which an as-yet-unrehabilitated Oscar De La Hoya endeavored to out-crazy Ortiz’s loony then-manager, Rolando Arellano, while Ortiz, a transplanted-Kansan surfer, played the dude-of-reason before a disbelieving press corps, a member of which would live-tweet the call was “the worst idea in the history of bad ideas.” Nine months after that debacle, Ortiz auditioned for a chance to make a superstar of Mexican Saul Alvarez, returning to Staples Center, where he never failed to draw, for a match with a four-loss 140-pounder named “Josesito.” Lopez broke Ortiz’s jaw and led him to a hospital-bed revelation about building the “Vicious” brand away from boxing, with a 1-2 combo of celebrity dancing and skincare endorsement.
That was the last time I spoke with Victor. It was a 27-minute phone interview for a 500-word magazine piece about his pending appearance on “Dancing with the Stars” – an interview noteworthy for several reasons, the most of which was its promptness and courteousness. Ortiz’s small management team scheduled an early morning phone call, replying to an initial inquiry almost immediately, and Ortiz not only answered the call on its first ring but did so after doing roadwork without a fight on his 2013 calendar. Ortiz was not merely honest in the sincere way we tell celebrities we want them – “real” being the catchall modifier so prized by kids these days – but lucid, friendly and eloquent.
I mentioned, by way of introduction, a weighin-day bus ride he and I shared to Alamodome in 2007, and he cheerily recalled our conversation and his opponent’s name, before imparting the 20-year-old kid I’d sat beside that afternoon in San Antonio would likely be “disappointed” in his career, though supportively so: “He’d probably be like, ‘Hey man, you’re doing all right for yourself.’”
He sure wasn’t doing all right for himself Thursday at Barclays Center across from Luis Collazo, a man able to stop Ortiz (29-4-2) quicker than any opponent since Collazo stopped Richard Heath (1-1) nine years ago. Perhaps that does not set the hands on the Collazo clock properly as this will: In September, fighting in a San Antonio dancehall bullring, Collazo won a 10-round decision over someone named Alan Sanchez that was so aesthetically displeasing a 20-year boxing columnist on press row not only called it “one of the five worst fights I’ve covered” but felt strongly enough about the matter to impart this very judgment to Collazo himself, who, despite being covered nearly to the centimeter with tattoos, still affected sheepishness in a reply treating his quality of opposition.
Both men in that exchange, as it happened, were right. Collazo proved quite capable of excitement against Ortiz, reminding viewers of the excellent spectacle he made with Andre Berto five years ago, round about the time Berto made his first metaphorical appearance on posters that read “Protected Child” – pinups on which the Haitian Olympian remained until Victor Ortiz unpinned him in 2011. Maybe it was symmetrical, in a b-level-irony sort of way, then, Collazo was the man to end his promoter’s hopes of making Ortiz once more Showtime-ready.
It is tempting to treat Ortiz’s career as a cautionary tale, with its initial precociousness, manufactured homeless-in-Kansas narrative, promoter hopping, loopy outbursts and spectacular losses. Such temptations should be foregone, though. Ortiz came in every fight a picture of fitness, gave his version of events publicly in unfiltered a way as possible, and never, not once, made a boring prizefight – or as his 2007 self might have said through his 2013 self: “Hey man, you did all right.”
Bart Barry can be reached via bart.barrys.email (at) gmail.com
