No One Likely To Save Boxer Antonio Margarito From Himself
No One Likely To Save Boxer Antonio Margarito From Himself
Former welterweight titlist Antonio Margarito, 38 and a mere husk of his former self, continues his comeback this weekend against Ramon Alvarez. That's not good.
Former welterweight titlist Antonio Margarito, 38 and a mere husk of his former self, continues his comeback this weekend against Ramon Alvarez. That nobody appears interested in stopping him from fighting means that yet again the sport and its fans get to experience the uneasy feeling of watching a faded fighter attempt to turn back the clock.
This past March, Margarito ended a four-year hiatus by defeating Jorge Paez Jr. in Mexico City, tasting canvas along the way. Though the fight probably did shake out some of his cobwebs, it was a reminder that even the most durable fighters get broken down by the sport of boxing sooner or later. Nobody walks away from boxing unscathed, and that's if they're able to walk away.
For years Antonio Margarito went by the nickname "The Tijuana Tornado," and it described his intense style perfectly. But leading up to his 2012 retirement Margarito clearly slowed down as a result of nearly two decades of punishment brought on by his tenacity and penchant for absorbing blows. Worst of all, the tissue around Margarito's right eye deteriorated following his losses to Manny Pacquiao and Miguel Cotto, all but guaranteeing retirement.
The years are almost always particularly unkind to action fighters who favor offense over defense. It's not that defensive fighters are often able to escape the stereotypical fate of a prizefighter, but the exposure to extra punishment that comes with letting punches go accelerates the erosion. It's not just his physical condition that has broken down, though. Margarito's comeback, like many ill-advised comebacks prior to his, highlights what happens when fighters shouldn't be stepping into a
ring anymore but still have a marketable name.
It's not the first time Margarito has somehow been allowed to fight when he shouldn't have been. In 2009, Margarito had his boxing license revoked when his hand wraps failed pre-fight inspection prior to his stoppage loss to Shane Mosley in Los Angeles. When his name was floated as a potential opponent for Pacquiao prior to being eligible to be granted a new license in California, his promoter Top Rank enlisted the help of the notoriously corrupt Texas Department of Licensing and Regulation.
"My personal opinion is what he had on his hands doesn't give you an advantage over an opponent," said head of the TDLR at the time, Dickie Cole. "Do I personally
believe it'd help [Margarito's] hands or be detrimental to his opponent? No. It'd have no effect on his punching power."
Though being promoted by Top Rank was likely helpful in securing Margarito's Texas license, what he essentially did was find a state commission that would license him despite another turning him down. That's hardly unique. Willie Pep did it in 1952 when his license was revoked after a rough fourth bout with Sandy Saddler, and many others have done it since. The TDLR was advised against granting the Tijuana native a license by the Association of Boxing Commissions, but the TDLR did it anyway because it could do so without fear of consequences.
Margarito's current promoter Zanfer Promotions has the Tijuana native fighting in Rosarito this weekend. Juan Carlos Pelayo, president of the Tijuana boxing commission, assured ESPN Deportes that Margarito has a clean bill of health and would undergo no extra or more stringent tests for his right eye, regardless of its wonky appearance. Pelayo, who was charged with widespread corruption in 2014, said, "We will not have anything extraordinary other than the routine tests."
Margarito's situation isn't anything new or novel; in the grander scheme, fighters are a means to an end for promoters and other non-participants pulling the strings, and as long as money can be made, it will be. That doesn't mean it's any less frustrating to watch when the same mistakes are made ad infinitum.
A large segment of boxing fans still haven't considered forgiving Margarito for the fiasco with his hand wraps against Mosley, and it's difficult to blame them as wearing
loaded gloves, altered wraps and the like are perhaps the gravest of all the boxing's sins. But in a sport with no post-career safety net in place for fighters with no education there is indeed merit to the argument that they should be allowed to work. Besides, the pummeling Margarito received prior to his suspension balanced out some of the attempted villainy.
Beyond Margarito, the protection afforded fighters in boxing is a large part of what makes the sport something more than just a conveyor belt of violence. Referees, state officials, fighters' teams and corners -- all are there to, if nothing else, protect fighters from themselves, from not knowing when to quit.
When Margarito was knocked down by Paez, Jr. last March, as looked up at an opponent who decked him for the first time since 1999, it probably wasn't even apparent to him then that he shouldn't be doing this anymore. To the fighters, it almost never is. But when a fighter who builds a reputation on an ability to soak up punches gets badly rocked and put down by a fighter with a 46% knockout percentage against middling opposition, extra scrutiny should be in order.
There will never be total cooperation among state commissions and different countries, but more should be done to prevent the cautionary tales. More could have been done to prevent Margarito from having to fight on.
This past March, Margarito ended a four-year hiatus by defeating Jorge Paez Jr. in Mexico City, tasting canvas along the way. Though the fight probably did shake out some of his cobwebs, it was a reminder that even the most durable fighters get broken down by the sport of boxing sooner or later. Nobody walks away from boxing unscathed, and that's if they're able to walk away.
For years Antonio Margarito went by the nickname "The Tijuana Tornado," and it described his intense style perfectly. But leading up to his 2012 retirement Margarito clearly slowed down as a result of nearly two decades of punishment brought on by his tenacity and penchant for absorbing blows. Worst of all, the tissue around Margarito's right eye deteriorated following his losses to Manny Pacquiao and Miguel Cotto, all but guaranteeing retirement.
The years are almost always particularly unkind to action fighters who favor offense over defense. It's not that defensive fighters are often able to escape the stereotypical fate of a prizefighter, but the exposure to extra punishment that comes with letting punches go accelerates the erosion. It's not just his physical condition that has broken down, though. Margarito's comeback, like many ill-advised comebacks prior to his, highlights what happens when fighters shouldn't be stepping into a
ring anymore but still have a marketable name.
It's not the first time Margarito has somehow been allowed to fight when he shouldn't have been. In 2009, Margarito had his boxing license revoked when his hand wraps failed pre-fight inspection prior to his stoppage loss to Shane Mosley in Los Angeles. When his name was floated as a potential opponent for Pacquiao prior to being eligible to be granted a new license in California, his promoter Top Rank enlisted the help of the notoriously corrupt Texas Department of Licensing and Regulation.
"My personal opinion is what he had on his hands doesn't give you an advantage over an opponent," said head of the TDLR at the time, Dickie Cole. "Do I personally
believe it'd help [Margarito's] hands or be detrimental to his opponent? No. It'd have no effect on his punching power."
Though being promoted by Top Rank was likely helpful in securing Margarito's Texas license, what he essentially did was find a state commission that would license him despite another turning him down. That's hardly unique. Willie Pep did it in 1952 when his license was revoked after a rough fourth bout with Sandy Saddler, and many others have done it since. The TDLR was advised against granting the Tijuana native a license by the Association of Boxing Commissions, but the TDLR did it anyway because it could do so without fear of consequences.
Margarito's current promoter Zanfer Promotions has the Tijuana native fighting in Rosarito this weekend. Juan Carlos Pelayo, president of the Tijuana boxing commission, assured ESPN Deportes that Margarito has a clean bill of health and would undergo no extra or more stringent tests for his right eye, regardless of its wonky appearance. Pelayo, who was charged with widespread corruption in 2014, said, "We will not have anything extraordinary other than the routine tests."
Margarito's situation isn't anything new or novel; in the grander scheme, fighters are a means to an end for promoters and other non-participants pulling the strings, and as long as money can be made, it will be. That doesn't mean it's any less frustrating to watch when the same mistakes are made ad infinitum.
A large segment of boxing fans still haven't considered forgiving Margarito for the fiasco with his hand wraps against Mosley, and it's difficult to blame them as wearing
loaded gloves, altered wraps and the like are perhaps the gravest of all the boxing's sins. But in a sport with no post-career safety net in place for fighters with no education there is indeed merit to the argument that they should be allowed to work. Besides, the pummeling Margarito received prior to his suspension balanced out some of the attempted villainy.
Beyond Margarito, the protection afforded fighters in boxing is a large part of what makes the sport something more than just a conveyor belt of violence. Referees, state officials, fighters' teams and corners -- all are there to, if nothing else, protect fighters from themselves, from not knowing when to quit.
When Margarito was knocked down by Paez, Jr. last March, as looked up at an opponent who decked him for the first time since 1999, it probably wasn't even apparent to him then that he shouldn't be doing this anymore. To the fighters, it almost never is. But when a fighter who builds a reputation on an ability to soak up punches gets badly rocked and put down by a fighter with a 46% knockout percentage against middling opposition, extra scrutiny should be in order.
There will never be total cooperation among state commissions and different countries, but more should be done to prevent the cautionary tales. More could have been done to prevent Margarito from having to fight on.