By Bart Barry-
Saturday at a local coffee shop I watched the PBC main event I’d already covered five days before it happened (I was off by about 3 1/2 rounds in my report). I watched on my phone as Florida welterweight Keith Thurman “knocked-out” Luis Collazo with an accidental headbutt of slow-developing effect. For the record, and since some writers are enkindled by the thought a single dollar mightn’t go to the corporations it belongs to, I did not watch a pirated stream of the PBC broadcast: I used my mother’s username and password on the WatchESPN app.
Thurman’s reaction was indeed more surprising than his victory. Thurman was going to win, regardless, and so, even if his postfight celebration was charged by relief, it also should have been tempered by a question even smartphone viewers had to ask: What the hell did Keith Thurman do to win?
Collazo, a victim of questionable decisions in previous title bouts, with Ricky Hatton and Andre Berto, took things entirely out of the judges’ unsteady hands, Saturday. Having jeopardized the scripted outcome with a body shot in round 5, after 14 minutes of skittish jousting with Thurman from a safe distance – even had they fencing foils – Collazo chose soberly his words for the ringside physician and got himself awarded a knockout loss after round 6. A loss is a loss except when it’s a partial victory, which is exactly what Saturday’s antics will become in three weeks when Luis Collazo wins the PBC’s July Employee of the Month award for his competent if not creative Saturday delivery.
My interest in this bout was minimal, knowing as we all did its preordained outcome. The enterprising and imaginative among us will tell ourselves the entire canonization of boxing’s next really really big and huge star, Keith Thurman – a telegenic man who cries on command in barbershops while his girlish locks are hardened into warrior braids – got jeopardized towards the end of the otherwise unwatchable fifth round, Saturday, when Thurman got jackknifed by a Collazo left cross to the body, but the whole enterprise of imagining how the predetermined winner might lose is quixotic, we should admit.
In this sense, boxing is no longer entertaining as professional wrestling – wherein the winner is predetermined but at least unknown to the audience. In this sense, boxing is more noble than wrestling: the PBC broadcast tells you who will win the main event in a prefight Sesame Street feature and does not deviate by subjecting its docile viewers to steel-chair hijinx or implausible disqualifications that allow the champ to retain his title.
Well, OK, point taken, but there are no steel chairs.
Let us now pause to consider the feat boxing’s next supernova incredible star performed by getting bent in half by a lefthand thrown from a southpaw. Ever ask yourself why nearly every body-shot stoppage you’ve seen comes from an orthodox puncher’s left hook (including the crossover lefthand with which southpaw Gerry Penalosa stopped Jhonny Gonzalez eight years ago)? It’s because the angle of delivery for a left cross is all wrong; the punch is too straight to find the magical, quartersize spot between the right rib and hipbone where the liver – a vital organ – peeks through a window known as “the button.” There’s an upwards twist of the left knuckles required to hit the button, too, and a southpaw’s left cross, like all crosses, finds the knuckles descending, not ascending, upon impact.
However, then, did Collazo, a man who has knocked-out considerably fewer than half his opponents, knock boxing’s next solarsystem supergiant across the visiblepain threshold? With Thurman’s help, mostly. Thurman landed his liver on Collazo’s fist about much as Collazo landed the middle knuckle of his left hand on Thurman’s liver.
But wait, you may be thinking, I thought Thurman’s defensive liabilities found their limit in the way he floats his chin whenever he throws!
First of all, dearest PBC viewer, you weren’t supposed to notice that. And second of all, what are you talking about? Keith Thurman proved he has a champion’s heart, Saturday, like the PBC broadcast told you.
A note, then, about PBC broadcasting crews: Universally they have the journalistic integrity of Billy Mays pitching GatorBlade bug bazookas at 3 AM. Their commentary works more like a celebrity endorsement of a related product – Tiger Woods swinging a Nike driver, say – than even an approximate description of what happens in the boxing ring. They each have their cultivated schtick – Sugar Ray Leonard’s smooth vacuousness; Teddy Atlas’ metaphor-strangling outrage – but none of them offers commentary to invite even the softest inference of disloyalty by their owner, Al Haymon, if ever he should watch a PBC telecast.
Writers make the increasingly necessary if enduringly ignoble transition from reporters to publicists, yes, but rarely on the pages where their journalism resides. No sooner does a writer imply his endorsement of a commercial product than his readers barnstorm the comments section with reprimanding words about conflicted interests. That boxing television, conversely, has made the transition so frictionlessly from broadcaster to publicist should help aficionados retrofit their views of the entire medium.
Here, let me get you started: When the HBO crew assured me Manny Pacquiao won nearly every minute of his 2012 fight with Timothy Bradley, supplementing its commentary with creatively chosen between-rounds-replay clips and a wildly inaccurate unofficial scorecard, did I consider as fully as perhaps I should the network’s disproportionate interest in the very outcome it described? Here’s a little more help: No, you probably didn’t.
The kicker, as it were, is that today HBO, whatever its adorable crush on Eastern Bloc fighters, stands as the last column of journalistic integrity in boxing television: It is the only American network to treat Al Haymon as an executive instead of an owner.
Over and again, the PBC concept will not end well. If it succeeds, within three years it will have used monopolistic powers to craft a rigged-outcomes product that is neither violent as MMA nor well-scripted as professional wrestling (or the NBA playoffs). If it fails, it already will have decimated the ranks of aficionados and the writers who serve them.
Ridicule Luis Collazo all you want, but he’ll always have his PBC Employee of the Month certificate. What will you have?
Bart Barry can be reached via Twitter @bartbarry
