Tag Archives: sports

Sep 10 2012
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Boxing

IBR on The Cruelest Sport

“Enthusiasm, as defined by Voltaire in his “Philosophical Dictionary” is a “disturbance of the entrails, internal agitation.” Working with this definition, it is reasonable to say that the super middleweight fight between Andre Ward and Chad Dawson indeed generated a great deal of enthusiasm. The fight, staged at the Oracle Arena in Oakland, California, pitted arguably the two best fighters in the world between 168 and 175 pounds against each other. For some, enthusiasm came in the form of anticipation of this “Best versus Best” affair—a seemingly mythical occurrence in boxing, a pugilistic Sasquatch sighting. Others found themselves plunked at the other end of the spectrum, their entrails disturbed by the potential for viewing drudgery. What transpired over the course of the fight, a 10th-round TKO victory for Ward, was something resembling the mean.”

Read “Easy Living: Andre Ward TKO10 Chad Dawson” on The Cruelest Sport.

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Sep 03 2012
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Boxing

IBR on The Cruelest Sport

“With cruel, calculating efficiency, Kazakhstan’s Gennady Golovkin ravaged Poland’s Grzegorz Proksa en route to a fifth round TKO in their middleweight bout at the Turning Stone Resort and Casino in Verona, New York. Golovkin (24-0, 21KO), was originally slated to face Dmitry Pirog in a much-anticipated rumble for validation by American audiences. When Pirog withdrew due to injury, Proksa (28-2, 21KO), signed up for what proved to be a courageous but painful night’s work.”

Read “Lowering the Boom: Gennady Golovkin TKO5 Grzegorz Proksa” on The Cruelest Sport.

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Apr 15 2012
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Boxing

Desperate Days: Making Weight and Making Excuses

Long before lightweight Brandon Rios (30-0-1) was awarded a decision over Richard Abril (17-2-1) in a fight that most everyone believes he lost, he stepped onto the scale and suffered his first defeat of the weekend. For the second time in two fights Rios failed to make weight.

On Twitter, Rios critics and apologists quickly manned their battle stations. In the hour long battle that waged between these two factions, apologists of Rios focused their defence along two prominent fronts. The purpose here will be examine the two arguments in defence of Rios, and to refute them.

One line of defence suggested that Rios’ inability to make the lightweight limit of 135lbs was merely another example of an irreversible trend; that until Rios enters the junior welterweight division he shouldn’t be expected to make weight. Perhaps this is true, as Rios’ second trip to the scale on Friday revealed a disturbing two pound increase in his weight. But if he’s no longer a lightweight then persisting in this façade is ridiculous. He’s hurting himself, and perhaps more importantly, he’s unfairly hurting his opponents (more on that later).

The defence that criticism of Rios’ lack of professionalism should be tempered because it transpires in accordance with expectation is pathetic. That a misdeed is easily foreseeable does not justify the transgression. In fact, it does the very opposite, as it makes premeditation easier to establish. If indeed Rios could be reasonably expected to fail on the scale—a belief presupposed by a defence rooted in predictability—then his inability to make weight can be criticized.

Twentieth century philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein asserted that no solipsist ever lived according to the solipsistic premise, which thereby undid the veracity of the solipsist’s worldview. That same challenge applies to those who defend Rios on the grounds that his failure to make weight was plainly foreseeable. How many would permit disappointment and a lack of professionalism in their own lives merely because it were predictable?

The merit of the defence based on predictability is that it has actual content: there are premises that must be invalidated to challenge it. What it lacks—to its credit—is an element of obstinacy, since proponents of this argument must acquiesce when it’s refuted. This obstinacy is evident in another argument presented in defence of Rios. Sadly, this second argument lacks the content of the first—it isn’t even an argument: there’s no relationship between propositions, no conclusion entailed therein. It’s nonsense.

This second line of defence offered in the name of Bam Bam Rios is that critics don’t know enough about boxing, and were they to escape this opaque mist of ignorance, they would absolve Rios of his guilt. Granting that this assertion of ignorance is correct, a number of questions arise.

The first of these questions is: How is it acceptable that Rios ostensibly cheat? By not making weight Rios exploits an already formidable size advantage by never having to shed the last few pounds. Even someone who knows little about boxing is liable to have heard testimony to the difficulty of losing the last three pounds. Rios, in escaping this final pre-fight trial has spared himself, has preserved more of the physicality that makes him so formidable. He has done so at the expense of sportsmanship and the rules. This is cheating. Apply whatever casuistic gymnastics one might, it’s hard to negotiate the cold reality that a contract was violated to the advantage of Brandon Rios.

A second question: How is it acceptable that Rios place his opponent—for the second time in two fights—in a no-win situation? Abril, like Rios’ previous opponent John Murray, conducted himself like a professional and made weight. Whatever toll this took on his body, he paid (unlike his opponent). And yet, to be compensated financially for the hours of sacrifice he had to concede an unfair advantage to Rios. Abril faced two unattractive options: endanger himself by facing a junior middleweight in a lightweight title fight, or don’t get paid. The only reason Abril was faced with such unpropitious prospects is because Rios violated his contract. Abril was innocent of any wrongdoing, and yet he had the most to lose.

Finally, why is criticizing a professional fighter for failing to make weight unjustified? A man whose livelihood is determined by his ability to satisfy an audience is subject to the criticism of that same audience. Rios may provide any number of excuses or explanations, and the paying public can find them palatable or otherwise, but the forum for criticism is inescapable. Moreover, many of these defenders of Rios slandered Gamboa when he mysteriously withdrew from the anticipated Rios – Gamboa clash. Consistency would dictate that Rios should suffer at least some criticism for his own unprofessional behaviour. Perhaps consistency is inapplicable to personal favourites?

Were any of Rios’ defenders willing to answer these questions, perhaps the issue could be resolved. But to simply cling to the empty challenge that those who disagree are ignorant does nothing to satisfy critics or defend Rios. It is to say: “You lack knowledge that I have, but it’s beneath me to educate you.” Again, this isn’t an argument. It’s vulnerability masked as superiority.

* * *

Why do some fans feel the need to defend their favourite fighters at the expense of intellectual integrity? What purpose does seeing them through a lens that refracts their faults serve? Is it that in defending a fighter we are really defending ourselves, our inclinations, our culture, our choices? Is that why even desperate, flimsy defences will suffice? Because it isn’t about the fighter, but the fan?

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Mar 24 2012
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Boxing

Clockwise: A Preview of Morales – Garcia

As I was about to toss the chicken bones on the floor and conjure up a prediction, my fire alarm went off. There wasn’t any smoke mind you, save for the incense burning to mask the smell in the cauldron. The sharp beep was merely tolling the death of the alarm’s battery. I hadn’t changed it since I moved in, so I suppose that this lesser warning was to be expected. It was only a matter of time. As always, good luck in your predictions leagues.

 

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Mar 22 2012
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Boxing

Less Is More: The Latest Strategy In Marketing Sergio Martinez

This isn’t really about Sergio Martinez. Martinez is one of the characters in the sport who elicits a spectrum of opinion ranging from venomous criticism to idolatrous adoration. These opinions become even more impassioned when the Prince of Culiacan is mentioned. Martinez, as recently as this past Saturday, is vanquishing the opposition without any recourse to opinion. A champion defending his title in his own idiom; his ledger and the manner in which he has compiled it, as consistent as the opinions of him are multifarious. This isn’t really about Sergio Martinez.

No, this is about the new angle spun in the promotion of the King of the Middleweight Division. This is about the Emperor’s new clothes. This new slant argues that Martinez is an undersized middleweight. Martinez, who began his career as a welterweight, didn’t invade the middleweight ranks until 2009, at the advanced age of 35. The process of aging impedes weight loss, and yet Martinez has reportedly found himself comfortably beneath the middleweight limit the week before the fight. Accepting this reasoning—which is different than establishing its truth, mind you—it can be ventured that Martinez is a small middleweight.

Some of the opposition he’s downed as he’s ascended his perch has been small by middleweight standards as well. In his last six fights—roughly the duration of Martinez’ tenure at 160lbs—he has fought Paul Williams twice, Kelly Pavlik, Serhiy Dzindzurik, Darren Barker, and recent knockout victim Matthew Macklin. Williams, himself an ex-resident of the welterweight and junior-welterweight divisions, often proclaimed that he would face anyone from 147-160. Making such a proclamation presupposes that he could indeed make the welterweight limit while retaining his puissance. It’s a dubious claim, but Williams managed to make welterweight in 2008 while fighting primarily between 154 and 160. Williams is a tall but spindly middleweight, and the physical advantages he enjoyed over Martinez would be relevant regardless of weight division. This doesn’t mean Williams was bigger than Martinez, however. Dzindzurik was an undefeated champion at 154lbs, and believed by some to be the best fighter in the division. But he was still campaigning below middleweight. The remaining three fighters were legitimate middleweights when Martinez fought them, and whatever denigrating asterisk might be inserted is either inconsequential or applicable to so many pugs it’s practically irrelevant. So if Martinez is an undersized middleweight, it’s fair to say he’s paired off against a few as well. Why then, draw attention to his size?

The end game for this marketing strategy is probably that it speaks to people who can be swayed by the charms of the pound-for-pound debate. This particular brand of collective onanism is a viable marketing tool given modernity’s preoccupation with lists and a pervading need to establish theoretical superiority. Consider the debate raging between Android, iPhone and Blackberry, or the passionate constituencies lobbying on behalf of The Sopranos, Breaking Bad, and The Wire. There’s a pervading zeitgeist that needs to establish, on subjective grounds, what is the best. Boxing, as another form of publicly appraised drama, has found its cast tabled for similar debate.

When the criteria for determining truth are malleable, and the consequences for being wrong are nil, the debate is self-perpetuating. In essence, what is produced is the opportunity to witness perhaps the best fighter in the world, or the third best, or one of the five best, depending on the criteria. Regardless of the criteria, there’s room for debate therein. Hitching Martinez to this pettifogging cacophony is a sound strategy: it keeps him on people’s lips in a meaningful way. But capitalizing on human inclination isn’t the sole explanation for trumpeting this line of reasoning.

Martinez has of late received criticism for his kvetching over the reticence of Mayweather and Pacquiao. There’s been a shift in ethos, and some who once admonished the sport’s two biggest earners for not stepping way up to the plate have now started complaining about Martinez’ caterwauling. By drawing the collective attention to Martinez’ size, the hope is to reduce the criticism he’s received for tirelessly seeking out fights with men who generally ply their trade two divisions south of him. If Martinez is a small middleweight—perhaps a largish junior-middleweight—then pursuing a Mayweather fight isn’t bullying. Mayweather, after all, has explicitly stated that his May tussle with Miguel Cotto is to be waged at 154lbs to ensure that the best of the Puerto Rican fighter is on display. Of course, anything Mayweather says should be downed with a chaser, but the fact remains that the fight will be fought at the junior-middleweight limit. This means that the undersized middleweight Martinez should, physically speaking, be in the running for a Mayweather fight. The size differential is negated to a large degree.

The same rationale can be applied to Pacquiao, though with less persuading results. That being said, the Mayweather fight has seemingly been the one Martinez most coveted, probably because Mayweather is the larger of the two stars and thus more likely to navigate the waters of junior-middleweight again.

The move insulates Martinez in another significant way: it protects him from the rabble demanding that he—since he’s so comfortable challenging smaller men to fight him—take the deontologist’s path north. There are a number of names at super-middleweight—Froch, Kessler, Bute—that could ensure packed houses for Martinez were he to try his low-hanging hands at 168lbs. Team Martinez has responded to suggestions of this nature before, stating that were the right deal to come along Martinez would consider the move. The right deal being as nebulous and elusive a concept as it is, it’s hard to pressure the fighter for not accepting solicitations to come upstairs. Of course, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get criticized for a perceived hypocrisy. But if the public is told forcefully or consistently enough that Martinez is a small middleweight then the move to super-middleweight becomes more unrealistic, more demanding, more dangerous, especially since the move to junior-middleweight is more in keeping with his natural build.

It must be said that this new marketing tactic for Martinez is brilliant. It’s arguably rooted in truth, bears a fruit most find delicious, and provides a thorny defence. Moreover, Martinez himself is a fine fighter, and regardless of the spin, his performances—even if their dominance is receding—are always there to salvage his merits. Were this really about Sergio Martinez it could be said that his rather fruitless promotional campaign may have finally yielded a crop. But then, this isn’t really about Sergio Martinez.

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Mar 17 2012
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Boxing

In Word and Deed: A Defense of JuanMa Lopez

Breaths escaped as epitaphs when Lopez crumpled to the canvas. He would rise, perhaps on Promethean defiance alone, before the count reached ten. Beating the count would be his final fight however, as referee Robert Ramirez wisely waved off the proceedings. Orlando Salido had again brought a premature end to JuanMa Lopez’ evening.

The outcome however, was secondary to that which produced it. Salido and Lopez had engaged in beautiful violence for nearly ten rounds. It was a contrapuntal dialogue rich in punctuating blows and heated exchanges, with Salido bowing Lopez with a final fistic utterance that permitted no rejoinder. Ledgers—and perhaps bodies—were permanently altered. Despite the damage dignity persisted, seemingly cast in bronze by the forgers at work between the ropes. Lopez would tarnish his performance however, when the scavenging Jim Grey set upon him in the post-fight interview.

Lopez launched into a tirade against referee Robert Ramirez, slandering the man as a gambler and insinuating that this personal indulgence somehow precipitated a premature stoppage. In doing so Lopez dispensed with the comportment that had so admirably distinguished him during the fight, and he was justifiably criticized for his poor form. His conduct however, is understandable for a couple of reasons. To the extent that his conduct is understandable, it is also defensible.

Lopez responded to the culminating salvo of Salido like someone concussed. Even if the damage accrued wasn’t concussive, he was suffering from having his bell so forcefully rung. Such a mind isn’t the most reliable source of information. By insinuating some corruption might be at play Lopez became a participant in a tradition of vanquished fighters, men forced to comment on the heartbreaking, on the unthinkable, without sufficient time for reflection. This particular brand of testimony should be weighed within the context in which it’s collected. The somnambulist isn’t a reliable eye-witness. This explanation assumes that what Lopez said was patently false, but that assumption requires further investigation.

Even if he was speaking in a concussed state, it’s possible that Lopez’ comments were based in truth. Lopez can be assumed to have some knowledge of Ramirez, given that they both move within the boxing fraternity of Puerto Rico. This isn’t to say that Ramirez gambled on the fight, or that he was guilty of any corruption whatsoever: there’s been no evidence produced to that effect, and Lopez has—via his public relations team, mind you—issued an apology. But if Lopez were aware of Ramirez’ gambling practices—practices that are ubiquitous in Puerto Rico—his allegations were founded on more than shifting sand. Of course, this doesn’t justify Lopez’ allegations. The point isn’t to justify Lopez however, but to explain why he might resort to such a seemingly ridiculous explanation for the stoppage. It’s possible that Lopez was filling in the gaps of a rather devastating narrative with whatever knowledge best supported his desire to continue. In doing so he lashed out at Ramirez by using facts (like Ramirez laying the odd bet) to false ends (Ramirez’ gambling prompting a stoppage). Lopez was wrong, yes, but the process of reasoning he employed seems hard-wired into our cognition. It’s important to remember that Lopez just had his cognition bounced forcibly off his shoulder.

What underlies both explanations is Lopez’ inexorable desire to starch Salido. When his game plan shifted to one of headlong attrition Lopez fought as if the only possible outcome was a knockout. He fought to decapitate Salido—he was going for broke. It’s unlikely that Lopez was going to get over against a fighter as well-versed in hurt as Salido—but this only makes Lopez’ impassioned final onslaught more beautiful. Like his desperate strategy, his unbecoming post-fight interview was the product of a sanguinary pursuit, of his being denied that pursuit. This commitment to violence too often is lacking in fighters who look to steal rounds or do just enough to bank a victory. Lopez left it all in the ring, left it all on display, both his fistic virtues and his flaws.

Lopez then, is a paradox: his poor comportment after the fight was an extension of his fighting spirit and in this respect was actually complimentary. This doesn’t excuse his post-fight conduct, but the purpose here was to better understand him, not exonerate him. Lopez could have conducted himself better, that’s true. But were his performance to speak for itself, it would say that Juan Manuel Lopez is an imperfect fighter in word and deed, but a fighter above all else.

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Mar 16 2012
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Boxing

Ladies Free Before Ten: A Preview of Martinez – Macklin

Given that the first IBR fight preview was a resounding success (the prediction was correct and someone even commented on the post!) you know there just had to be a sequel. Here then, is the prediction equivalent of Wedding Crashers 2…though considering the subject, perhaps Zoolander 2 would be more appropriate. And hey, good luck in your predictions leagues.

 

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Mar 09 2012
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Boxing

Take Another Hit: A Preview of Salido – Lopez II

This isn’t the beginning of a new trend for IBR. If you want to read excellent fight previews I suggest reading Michael Nelson’s work at www.thecruelestsport.com (and anything else posted on that site). Occasionally however, it’s nice to branch out and try your hand at something new.

Here then, is the first—and probably only—fight preview for IBR. Bask in its brevity, and good luck with your prediction league.

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Mar 08 2012
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Boxing

One False Move: The Danger of Jeopardizing Gamboa – Rios

Were boxing to find its counterpart in philosophy it might very well find it in the pages of the Aristotle’s Ethics. In this work, Aristotle argues that excellence isn’t the product of divine legislation, but rather a process that reaches its full development through striving. In Aristotle’s words, “Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.”

It’s this emphasis on aspiration and repetition that resonates within the sport. To achieve excellence in boxing requires that an aspirant set a fixed gaze on his goals. The sport provides innumerable examples of fighters who averted their gaze with disastrous consequences. Repetition is also one of the sport’s dominant memes. The regiment of training, the palaver of promotional activities, the strategies for inflicting punishment, even the anatomical targets for damage—boxing seems like a system of repetition permitting just enough room for unpredictability to remain compelling.

And there is excellence too. But what does it consist of?

It says here that excellence in boxing—in so much as it is a habit, not an act—is determined by more than a fighter’s professional ledger. There is an element of professionalism that speaks to a fighter’s excellence. This professionalism is a complex concept. It includes training with the rigour and diligence required to forge iron, giving a sincere account of oneself in the ring, and meeting promotional responsibilities in earnest.

There’s a reasonable counter to this claim. It’s difficult to argue that ring dominance isn’t alone enough for excellence—this is the fundamental dialogue of the sport, the dominant idiom. To deny an excellent fighter the adjective because of a lack of professionalism seems disproportionately punitive.

These criticisms will be addressed quickly before proceeding. First, the concept of excellence here expounded is one that incorporates more than just ring accomplishments. Whether this is appropriate or not is to be determined by the reader. This concept provides equal opportunity for praise and criticism of a fighter, it merely ups the stakes. Second, as criticism of fighters often takes professionalism—and thereby this concept of excellence—into account, this treatment is only bringing to surface embedded criteria.

In a sport where contests are waged with only two outcomes considered, and where the disparity between abilities can be disturbingly vast, expecting to escape with one’s record unblemished is unrealistic. But boxing tends to forgive the professional his defeats, however crushing, if they’re honourable. This glimmer of amnesty is proof that excellence in boxing is determined by more than victory alone, as a defeat—even multiple defeats—can’t undo a career of noble comportment. Defeat itself can be borne with excellence.

Gamboa’s career thus far had evidenced the trademarks of excellence—he had habituated to its demands. Having openly sought, and been granted, a seemingly insurmountable challenge, Gamboa momentarily arrested a collective imagination and gave his detractors pause. Once Gamboa – Rios was announced there was very little he could do to sully his reputation. In facing Rios, Gamboa would ostensibly try and bridge a weight disparity spanning four divisions: Gamboa, able to make the featherweight limit would be facing a man in Rios, who is a welterweight by fight time. This is tantamount to entering a race and giving a head start to a man who matches your pace.

But it’s precisely because the task is so daunting that defeat is forgivable, even expected. Were Gamboa to conduct himself as a professional and lose to Rios, he might conceivably still make a claim to excellence rivalling any victory on his record. Conversely, the absence of professionalism exhibited in his current truancy and reluctance to follow through on his grand aspirations could temporarily anathematize him. If Gamboa scuttles one of the most intriguing fights in a long time, it will require a rather severe ablution to clean his tarnished reputation.

There’s still time for Gamboa to mitigate this situation. If he fully discloses the details that have ground the fight to a halt perhaps increased public understanding would spare him the proverbial stocks. The details regarding the negotiation of this fight are turbid, though it’s since come to light that Gamboa never signed a contract. He’s justified in his hesitation to the extent that the fight was met with disbelief. It’s hard to envision a scenario where Gamboa wins. It’s fairly easy however, to conjure up the sight of him receiving a potentially irreparable beating. That Top Rank booked a venue, scheduled press conferences, and added $100,000 bonus could be a strong-arm tactic. These steps could’ve been taken to force Gamboa’s hand, to bully him into a fight he had only expressed an interest in, while eluding blame on the grounds of good faith. At 30, Gamboa has yet to develop into an attraction, and Top Rank may have been provided with the best cash-out alternative for parting ways with the Cuban fighter (though he supposedly has three fights left in his deal). And while it’s interesting to think about fighters living the Aristotelian ideal, it isn’t technically demanded of them. Gamboa will be the one living with the consequences of his actions, and if he would rather tarnish his reputation than potentially truncate his career, that’s entirely his decision to make.

Success against a formidable schedule—like a victory over Adrien Broner at lightweight—should do much to undo the resentment over the Rios debacle. This isn’t the death knell of his credibility, but it looks bad. As it stands, Gamboa has been given what he asked for, which is a rarity in boxing. Until the details that soured him on the fight are disclosed Gamboa will be expected to be a professional and honour that opportunity. Hopefully this is merely a single act, and not a habit.

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Mar 04 2012
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Boxing

Strong Opinions: Appraising the Antics of Adrien Broner

His chosen sobriquet is especially fitting: Adrien “The Problem” Broner is just that. He’s a formidable fighter, with a particularly problematic dynamic of offensive and defensive prowess. These fistic virtues are well established; there’s little trouble assaying the undeniable abilities of Adrien Broner. He should prove to be a rather baffling riddle for opponents for some time. Appraising his antics however, and their effect on his career, are much more difficult tasks.

For some, his rapping and hair brushing are merely manifestations of the confidence required to take part in compromising violence. The Broner apologist might suggest that the gaudery evidences Broner’s security in his own abilities, his willingness to increase the stakes by adding to audience expectations. A man who’s as brash as Broner must do more than simply win: he has upped the ante, adding an aesthetic demand to his ring exploits that must also be satisfied to meet the expectations of the performance. Those who appreciate the theatrics can defend Broner on the grounds that he’s challenging himself to be more than a fighter, but an entertainer as well. And in being an entertainer, Broner is garnering an audience.

For others, Broner’s antics, the thespian quality of his time in front of the camera, are merely a product of a benign childishness. Broner—at only 22 years of age, and yet years deep into his profession—has certainly committed much seriousness to the exacting demands of his particular vocation. Given such a sacrifice, those who take this position argue that the playful young man should be permitted his potentially off-putting antics as merely a byproduct of his age. He isn’t being forcibly escorted through the doors of nightclubs, experimenting with psychedelia, or participating in other activities associated with the edifying hooliganism of many a man his age. At 22, he has spent considerable time under the scrutiny of others, and so his innocuous routine should be forgiven. It’s an instance of child’s play in a man’s art, and it isn’t without precedent.

There’s a third faction which loathes the arrogance and the pomp, that cannot palate the superfluous choreography accompanying the bruising dance. Those who find the ceremonial grooming and rehearsed interviews so distasteful identify a degree of disrespect in Broner’s antics. There’s very little playful about a sport where men break their hands striking their opponents, and some believe the entire edifice is trivialized by Broner’s clownish histrionics. Even a less severe judgement of Broner’s schtick can sketch a rather obnoxious, juvenile portrait. For many, the absence of decorum in Broner’s celebration is an indictment of his class. Perhaps these cruel strokes are fitting, and Broner is guilty of an arrogant idiocy that has no place in what McIlvanney so appositely titled ‘The Hardest Game’.

Applying a Venn-diagram to the above portraits would probably reveal a more temperate characterization: the overlapping sections of the three circles permitting just enough of each perspective to prevent too rigid a characterization. Yes, he has conducted himself as a professional in regards to his first priorities, evidenced by a surgical and definitive stoppage of Eloy Perez last week. But the question of what to make of Broner can’t be satisfied by his record. His performance, which he clearly puts much preparation into, entails more than what he accomplishes during the fight. Adrien Broner wants viewers to evaluate the entire package. He must be pleased to know that many are considering him as just such a whole, though there’s striking disagreement over the sum of those parts.

This process of appraising Broner has spawned a second question.

There’s a line of reasoning proposing that Broner’s theatrics augment his fistic endeavours. It seems intuitive to assume a connection between a noteworthy performance—for whatever reason—and increased viewership. A week removed from his knockout of Perez and people are still discussing Broner’s histrionics, proof enough that his extracurricular activity is memorable. The more interesting question is: will Broner’s antics make him a star?

Broner, particularly in Cincinnati and neighbouring cities, will probably increase attendance at the cards he performs on. This impact can be expected to increase as Broner continues to win under the lights of a major network (conditions which seem likely as Broner is probably the best fighter in his division, and is an HBO staple). Promoted properly, Broner might even develop into a solid regional attraction, somewhere along the lines of Tomasz Adamek or Fernando Guerrero.

But neither Adamek nor Guerrero boasts the appeal of a Mayweather or Pacquiao—neither fighter is a superstar. Of course, neither Adamek nor Guerrero augment their performances with the self-promoting histrionics of Broner. The added ostentation is an important factor, as talent alone has proven insufficient for stardom. Will his polarizing gaudery then, allow Broner to achieve the status of the sport’s most popular practitioners? Or will his antics’ greatest achievement be the production of a schism among preexisting fans, with those eyes that were going to watch regardless simply observing with a reduced impartiality?

The most interesting problems tend to produce more questions than answers. They boast a complexity that requires layers of deconstruction, revealing multiple avenues of further inquiry. It’s often best to handle such puzzles with a cautious rumination. Perhaps Adrien “The Problem” Broner, both in his polarizing affectations, and his star potential, should be catechized with similar diligence, though it’s unlikely that most minds aren’t already firmly made up.

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