Tag: sports

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.

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.