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Rocky Marciano
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The restaurant employee thought I was trying to drink from the toilet, so I had to do some fast-talking to convince the manager that I was looking for my dropped contact lens. I had descended into a deep psychic state while trying to block an impending dream match involving Jean Pierre Coopman and Peter McNeely. McNeely began hammering on my mental brick wall with a sledgehammer. I clawed at my face and thrashed around the bathroom, slamming myself from stall to stall in an all out effort to block it and keep the brick wall up. The dream matches must remain top shelf.
My paranormal capabilities have increased. I am now seeing more detail. However, along with the expanded ability, the problems have increased and the gift takes all my energy. After this one, I dropped quite a bit of weight.
Arriving home, I hit the psychic mother lode. After shaving, with blood running down the side of my face, I saw, as if from a passing vehicle, Rocky Marciano and Evander Holyfield shake hands in front of Madison Square Garden. I staggered sideways into the shower and broke my new orange back-scrubber. I felt inebriated as the images kept appearing, kaleidoscopic. I got details this time.
When the Jess Willard-Hurricane Jackson promotion fell through due to financial concerns, there was a scramble to find a bout that could occur on July 4th weekend. What was needed was a match that would bring the masses to the event and to closed circuit locations. What was needed was a bout that would appeal to the purists and also to beer-bellied generalists who love to see two men beat the hell out of each other.
It was a surprise to no one when the two principals availed themselves of the occasion. Two men who would fight for mortgage money and the love of the game would, largely by ironic virtue of this very attitude, make multiple millions apiece.
It was a stunning spectacle to see the two men in ring center – Rocky Marciano and Evander Holyfield. It seemed inevitable that these two warriors would accomplish two things – they would nearly kill each other and would establish unbreakable mutual respect. The ring would surely be a forensic jigsaw puzzle and a DNA cornucopia. The crime would simply be to miss the action.
As often occurs in a match of this magnitude the first round was a clinic of caution. A few roundhouse misses by Rocky were met by spurts of Holyfield counters, which missed or landed on glove. It was also a difficult round to score. Rocky was the aggressor and did land one clear body blow and a few shots to Evander’s arms and elbows, as well as one to the back of the head. Holyfield landed a hook-cross-hook in ring center at the 2-minute mark.
In round 2, a Holyfield left hook had Rocky’s knees temporarily without cerebral instruction as he did a brief dance.
From this round, these two machines, their engines warmed, engaged in a brutal struggle. Holyfield first boxed smoothly, then slugged in the trenches as if angry. A pattern seemed to be emerging. Evander was beating Rocky to the punch, hitting him willfully with one-two combinations.
In the middle rounds, as Holyfield tired, these exchanges began to conclude with a roundhouse Marciano blow to Evander’s jaw. Some of them were flush… and a short right hand in round 9 nearly ended the night for Holyfield as he dropped to one knee, sprang up and staggered into the neutral ring post. After a standing eight count, Evander held Marciano with glassy-eyed affection, like a confused wino hugging the bouncer.
It wasn’t to be, however. Evander stayed upright and finished the fight on his feet, and seemed to take the last two rounds with lateral movement, and quick offenses followed by prompt retreat.
In the end, the decision was split, and announced in favor of Evander 'Real Deal' Holyfield. Rocky praised Evander’s toughness and his chin. He made no mention of what would have occurred had the contract been signed for 15 rounds, smaller gloves, a smaller ring. He didn’t claim that Holyfield ran around the ring. He didn’t claim he was robbed. They embraced and talked for an interminable period, somewhat oblivious to the media and the crowd. They were in that mysterious male realm of mutual respect, pride and expended testosterone – the warrior’s spirit as it glances in a mirror.
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Also See: Scar Tissue Part 1: Louis vs. Ali
Also See: Scar Tissue Part 2: Holmes vs. Frazier
Also See: Scar Tissue Part 3: Liston vs. Foreman
Also See: Scar Tissue Part 4: Imposters unmasked
Also See: Scar Tissue Part 5: Going after Goliath
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© Copyright / All Rights reserved: Doghouse Boxing 1998-2005
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By Jess E. Trail (February 11, 2005)
