I know I am opening myself up to criticism, but that’s okay. We are all human and are all fallible.
If you don’t agree with me, then stop reading. I, too, have made bad calls in boxing.
In August of 2008, I had Amon Baloyi collapse in the 12th and last round while defending his South African lightweight title against Patrick Malinga.
Baloyi was losing, and, due to my ego and pride, I let the fight go on far longer than it should have. I was devastated. A human life was in my hands and I gambled with it.
Since then, I learned a lesson that has made me understand not just the nature of a sport where it’s a fighter’s job to inflict physical hurt and harm upon an opponent’s body.
Let me be clear to those who have a general understanding of boxing, the mechanics of the sport will never change. The motive will always be the same – to hurt and harm.
It’s brutal and can be violent. The rules and conduct that govern it deem it a sport. Boxing is not for everyone, I get that.
And then, of course, there is a “silent code” within fighters. They are programmed and trained to fight.
Many years ago, I was speaking to a strength and conditioning coach who hit the nail on the head, and it has stuck with me ever since he told me, “You are not training your body in boxing to look good, you are training it for trauma”.
We recently saw two fighters, Shigetoshi Kotari and Hiromasa Urakawa, in Japan on the same fight card die – a first in the world, I think, and more recently here in South Africa, a fighter was taken to the hospital for a bleed on the brain.
Not long ago, I came under criticism, with some boxing fans saying that I should not have thrown in the towel when Phumelela Cafu was fighting against Jesse Rodriguez in Dallas, Texas. Hate me for this, but I don’t care -they’re idiots.
Cafu was losing, behind on points, and being lit up with a right hook in the 10th round, with his body “reacting” differently to how he was taking other punches up until that point. I call it pattern recognition.
The pattern recognition I refer to is when a fighter does something very unusual or reacts very differently when getting hit with a punch. I saw this in Belfast when Ludumo Lamati was contesting against Nick Ball.
I was helping his coach Phumzile Matyhila when Ludumo got caught with a right hand in the 12th and final round with 45 seconds left.
I noticed that his body reacted very differently than before. I said to Phumzile, whom I have a lot of time and respect for, to throw in the towel.
We all know the story and how it ended. I knew something was wrong, I didn’t know at the time that he would collapse, seize and nearly lose his life. Thank God, he didn’t and he lives to tell the tale.
Before that, in South Africa, I was doing a live broadcast in the commentary position in KwaZulu-Natal when a young fighter Simiso Buthelezi collapsed and tragically passed away.
No one saw that one coming. It was one of the most horrific incidents I ever witnessed in my boxing career and life.
To the trainers and managers, watch your fighters. Not just in the ring when they are fighting, stop the “spar wars” and monitor their weight cuts.
This often plays a factor when leading into a contest. I am not perfect, every trainer and manager has their own theories, but for God’s sake, let’s start using common sense and emotional intelligence. Let’s stop being so hard-headed and ego-driven to the point where we can’t stop fights.
While finger-pointing in South African boxing has become the norm, admittedly, I don’t know everything and never will. But I do know one thing, I have seen this situation unfold way too many times. Whether it’s ego, pride or the factor of “winning at all costs”, it comes with a price.
Start looking deeper into our sport and ourselves, and stop the “blame game” or “it’s the sport, the fighters know the risks and so do we. It’s boxing”.
At what point does a victory mean more than a fighter’s life Compassion, empathy, pattern recognition and emotional intelligence. Are we lacking in those qualities because we all hide behind the motive of the fight game?
The young fighter who was sent to the hospital last weekend was up on the scorecards going into the last round of his provincial title fight. But in the end, does it really mean anything?
Fighters will fight, it’s their job and they are paid to do so. But so are the people around them, and that includes the officials. As custodians of the sport here in South Africa, we have a responsibility, and yes, an obligation to protect our fighters.
I have seen some officials who end up judging fights the next day or even at tournaments post the night before, partying to the point that when it comes time to judge fights, they are falling asleep during the bouts and are so tired they can’t keep their eyes open.
I have seen some judges having their child sit on their lap while scoring fights at ringside. Even better, I have seen some judges answer their phones while they are supposed to be judging and scoring a bout. Is it not time to take our sport seriously?
I have seen referees who are so drunk the night before a fight (two instances overseas) that I question whether it is fair for them to be in control of two fighters’ lives going into the ring the next day.
Our referees need more training, the perception of what is deemed “defenseless” needs addressing. Unanswered punches – is there really a “rule”? Surely, when a fighter’s body language changes dramatically and he or she loses muscle tone or stiffens up, a contest should be stopped, irrespective of it being the last round while a fighter is up on the scores or even if it’s the last 10 seconds?
People around what happened last Sunday are heartbroken and shattered, this includes the team around the fighter and the officials who officiated the contest. As a fan who was there watching, it has affected me deeply.
I understand that sometimes it can be human error and it does happen. But, seriously, it’s time to stop hiding behind the nature of our sport and start looking at ourselves. Life is worth more than victory.
Outstanding and concise