To print this page, select "Print" from the File menu of your browser salon.com > People Sept. 20, 1999 URL: http://www.salon.com/people/log/1999/09/20/fight Oscar vs. Felix: Boxing's not-so-odd couple slow dance If De La Hoya had given more consideration to the verdict of history and less thought to boxing strategy, he might have defeated Trinidad. - - - - - - - - - - - - By Steve Burgess At its best, boxing has been about legends. While brutally practical in the ring, the boxer's accomplishments were almost always elevated to greater and nobler significance once the fight was over. (I'll just mention Joe Louis here and if that's not enough, to hell with ya.) Oscar De La Hoya is one of the very few active boxers with a legitimate shot at that sort of immortality. Saturday night at the Mandalay Bay Casino in Las Vegas, he faced Felix "Tito" Trinidad for each other's share of the welterweight championship. Strangely enough, if De La Hoya had given a little more consideration to the verdict of history and a little less thought to boxing strategy, he might still be undefeated today. This Oscar and Felix were not the odd but the inevitable couple, two undefeated 26-year-olds with reputations largely unsullied after a combined total of 66 fights, 55 of them knockouts. Self-serving promoters seeking to guard their prized assets often prevent such titanic clashes from occurring -- hence the feeling among boxing fans of not just anticipation, but gratitude when the fight was announced. This one had been circled on calendars since spring. Officials in San Juan, Puerto Rico spent $73,000 setting up a giant theater in front of City Hall so that locals could cheer Trinidad, their Spanish-speaking champion whose unblemished good looks would be worthy of any ex-Menudo star. As for the Mexican-American De La Hoya, he is already the charismatic, bilingual Golden Boy, the most marketable name in the sport. Rarely has a boxing match had more potential appeal for the editors of Seventeen magazine. But it was boxing fans who were giddy with excitement -- this was that rare thing, a top-level match too close to call. Tickets to the big fight were absolutely free (with your proof of purchase of several hundred thousand dollars' worth of casino chips). It was high-rollers and celebs only, taking in the usual preliminary events such as wondering what Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones are doing together, and speculating whether Sly Stallone still had enough juice to get in free or had to lose a lot of money at craps. The real fans were grouped around TV sets from San Juan to Mexico City to East L.A. and around the continent. For them the anticipation was almost unbearable. As the fight began it seemed that De La Hoya and Trinidad were not immune, either -- both fighters were cautious and probing in Round 1, the pace picking up only marginally in Round 2. Still, the early rounds appeared to be going De La Hoya's way as he used startling hand and foot speed to sneak in quick combinations and then leave town in a hurry. An early nose bleed for Trinidad, then swelling of the left eye showed tangible evidence that De La Hoya was getting the better of the early going. Trinidad was frustrated, chasing De La Hoya around the ring, trying in vain to start a slugging match that the Golden Boy would have no part of. "My corner said to keep attacking," Trinidad said after the fight. "I put more pressure on. I knew it was close." As the rounds went by uneventfully, Trinidad seemed to be slipping further behind. The crowd booed. They wanted action. They wanted their hero, Oscar De La Hoya, to solidify his legend, the way Sugar Ray Leonard had done back in September 1981 when his desperate flurry of punches stopped Thomas Hearns in the nick of time. But while they yearned for De La Hoya to make a big statement, he seemed intent on making a much more practical one. He wanted to beat Felix Trinidad in a boxing match. Boxing is viewed by its many detractors as a bloody contest of brute strength. It's hardly that. Strength is important and blood does flow, but mostly, boxing is strategy. Throughout his career, Oscar De La Hoya had always managed to do just what he had to do to succeed. Saturday night, clearly, he had a plan, one that would remind people what boxing was really all about. Trinidad is a puncher, a dangerous predator who will track you down, stagger you, knock you flat. De La Hoya would deny Trinidad that opportunity with speed and superior footwork. Halfway through the fight, Trinidad was on the verge of falling too far back to win without a knockout. Although the Puerto Rican never appeared to be in any danger, round-by-round tallies showed De La Hoya landing far more punches. The judges would surely take note. Unless, of course, the judges were taking note of something else. To the untrained eye, only one of the two men in that Vegas ring looked to be a fighter. The other looked to be training for the Boston Marathon. At times De La Hoya seemed almost to make a joke of the ongoing Sylvester-and-Tweety Bird act, dancing away from Trinidad in exaggerated fashion to the jeers of the crowd. In a fight this big, this highly anticipated, it was simply assumed that De La Hoya would want to leave his mark -- not merely to win, but to stake his claim as the heir to boxing's great mid-size champions: welterweights like Leonard and Roberto Duran, or middleweights like Sugar Ray Robinson, Marvelous Marvin Hagler and Jake La Motta. (Judge Glen Hamada of Tacoma, Wash., scored the fight 114-114; Jerry Roth of Las Vegas scored it 115-113 and Bob Logiste of Belgium scored it 115-114 for Trinidad. The Associated Press scored it 115-113 for De La Hoya. Meanwhile, a CompuBox punch analysis credited De La Hoya with landing 263 of 648 punches, while Trinidad connected on 166 of 462.) Perhaps De La Hoya thought that greatness lay merely in remaining undefeated, in taking on the best and proving himself the smarter and more skilled performer. If so, big mistake -- both in the short and long term. For posterity, De La Hoya ought to have remembered that great rivals make for great fighters. It's the mighty battles, the Robinson vs. La Motta-style wars, that cement a boxer's place in history. In the short term, De La Hoya needed to remember that although computers tally punches these days, rounds are still scored by human beings. And judges tend to prefer lions to gazelles. When the decision was read -- a narrow majority win for Trinidad -- the triumphant athlete who came most readily to mind was not another boxer. It was O.J. Simpson. Not only was the verdict just as shocking, this was clearly a case of jury nullification. The judges imposed their will in spite of the facts, just as surely as in the Lennox Lewis-Evander Holyfield heavyweight championship debacle (in which the judges denied Lewis a clear victory by calling the fight a draw). This case, however, should prove far less controversial. De La Hoya got too cute for his own good. "Obviously, I thought I won the fight," he said later. "I wanted to go out there and demonstrate all my ring equipment and give him a boxing lesson. Obviously, it wasn't appreciated by everyone.'' A rematch will show if the Golden Boy learned a lesson of his own. salon.com | Sept. 20, 1999