BOXING NOTES : Camacho a Champion Promoting His Fights

Just who is the world’s greatest promoter, anyway?

How about Hector Camacho, the self-styled Macho Man who no longer fights like one but who knows how to sell tickets better than anyone in boxing? The pride of Spanish Harlem came to New England this week and did his infuriating best to stir up the clam chowder at a tune-up fight between Vinny Pazienza and Eddie Van Kirk. Then, he had a tune-up of his own against Kevin Rooney, Pazienza’s trainer, at a Tuesday news conference.

Camacho and Pazienza will get paid to fight on Feb. 3 in Atlantic City, N.J., in a bout that probably should be refereed by a circus ringmaster. In the meantime, they have done it twice for free, once backstage after a New York news conference and once after Pazienza knocked out Van Kirk in the Providence Civic Center Monday.

But it seems that Camacho’s favorite target has become not Pazienza but Rooney, whom Camacho has found a particularly easy mark for his verbal jabs and his right hand, which he bounced off Rooney’s head in a brief skirmish Tuesday. They will repeat this act in six more cities on the promotional tour that starts Dec. 11, if Rooney can stand it.

“He’s starting to get on my nerves,” Rooney admitted. “I know I shouldn’t let him, but he is.”

Of course, Camacho could get on Mahatma Gandhi’s nerves. Not only is he the man fans love to hate, he is the man who loves to be hated. Camacho started his madman act about 25 minutes into the fight card, making an ostentatious entrance in a black satin, off-the-shoulder jumpsuit and matching short jacket trimmed in gold. Predictably, his appearance drew thunderous boos from the partisan Providence fans, known as Pazmaniacs. These are predominantly young, working-class men of Italian-American ancestry who favor open-necked sport shirts, gold chains and pinky rings. They don’t go for guys like Camacho.

But like all fans, they love a celebrity even if they hate him, and soon the Pazmaniacs were swarming around Camacho for autographs, which he supplied along with various wisecracks, most of which are unprintable. Camacho waded into the hostile throng, trading insults, making enemies and selling tickets.

A few minutes later, Camacho set new standards of insanity when he seized one of the round cards and pranced around the ring in the manner of the scantily clad young ladies whose primary purpose is to inform fans of which round is next. The crowd loved it. They pelted Camacho with peanuts, beer and crumpled papers. Meanwhile, Camacho was pelting Pazienza’s girlfriend with his own crumpled papers, on which he had scribbled his phone number.

“Your boyfriend’s a chump,” he yelled to her. “Come and be with a real man, a Macho Man.”

The young lady tried to hide her smile. Just before the main event, Camacho was called into the ring for a formal introduction for the benefit of the one or two people in the crowd who had not already gotten a personal introduction from the Macho Man himself. Still, the 6,000 or so who showed up took the time to shower their disapproval on Camacho again.

“Hey, hey, simmer down, simmer down,” he shouted, over the boos and catcalls, pointing a finger at the crowd. “It’s Macho Time, got that? Macho Time! Macho Time! Macho Time!”

He seemed ready for a straitjacket. The crowd, however, had other ideas. “Hey, Hector, we got something for you,” one big guy yelled. “Come down and get it.”

Camacho might be crazy, but he is not stupid. He gestured back but stayed safely up in the ri ng. Then he joined the television broadcast team to do some commentary on the Pazienza-Van Kirk bout.

And just like that, the madman act was over and the sober, professional Camacho took over. He was asked if he hated Pazienza. “Hate him? Why should I? He’s helping me make a lot of money.”

But Hector, didn’t you punch him in the mouth after the New York news conference? “Yeah, because he deserved it. But it’s cool now. No big thing.”

Can it be assumed that you’re rooting for Pazienza, because if he loses it blows your payday? “Not necessarily. The fight will still happen. Maybe not that many people will show up, but I got a guaranteed contract. I’ll still get paid.”

As the fight began, Camacho stared off, twiddling his thumbs. The only thing that seemed to catch his attention was Pazienza’s outfit--gold lame trunks trimmed in leopard skin with a matching robe. But Camacho sat up in the third round when Van Kirk, a club fighter who had never made more than $2,500 for a bout, landed some good punches to Pazienza’s nose. Instantly, Camacho, whose ability at analyzing an opponent is excellent but overlooked--dissected Pazienza’s style.

“Vinny’s a good fighter, but he’s easy to hit because he holds his head straight up,” he said. “Lateral movement, a good jab, head feints and a 1-2, that’s all you need to beat him. He’s not a sharpshooter, he’s not a boxer, he’s a brawler.

“I’ll beat him 12 out of 12 rounds, like the old Camacho when he beat Ramirez,” Camacho said, referring to his showing in a 1985 fight against Jose-Luis Ramirez as if he were talking about a long-lost friend. The new Camacho has become a clutch-and-grab, safety-first waltzmaster who builds up an early lead and then sits on it.

“I do what I have to do to win,” Camacho shrugged.

He was asked if he saw any difference in Pazienza now that he is being trained by Rooney. “The trainer’s got nothing to do with it,” Camacho said on live television, “because he’s a bum. He never could fight and he can’t train. He got knocked out by (Alexis) Arguello and Bobby Joe Young. He’s a clown.

“But,” he graciously added, “I’m impressed so far. I guess.”

And then it was over, Pazienza catching Van Kirk with a perfect left hook to the jaw early in the fifth. And there were Pazienza and Rooney in the ring, accepting congratulations and talking about their victory when suddenly, Camacho was in the ring again, encouraged by promoter Dan Duva, who, incidentally, is promoting Camacho-Pazienza.

Nothing of real wit or intelligence was said--Pazienza accused Camacho of ducking Van Kirk, Camacho repeated his verbal assault of Rooney to the trainer’s reddening face. Suddenly, a near-donnybrook broke out with Pazienza, Rooney and a few dozen Pazmaniacs on one side and Camacho on the other. A lot of finger-pointing and coat-holding followed until the ring finally was cleared by security.

Then, backstage, the melee erupted again between Camacho and Rooney, although neither got within five feet of the other. On Tuesday, Camacho finally nailed Rooney with a right delivered over the shoulder of Duva, who twisted a knee trying to be a peacemaker. Camacho also dubbed Lou Duva “Fred Flintstone” and treated him to several choruses of “Yabba-Dabba-Do.”

And then he was gone, his mission accomplished. He enraged Pazienza and Rooney, took them for fools and sold most of Providence on the hope that come Feb. 3, Vinny Pazienza will shut up the Macho Man, once and for all.

You can bet that half of Providence will travel to the Atlantic City Convention Center to see the fight live while the other half tunes in on pay-per-view, undoubtedly increasing Camacho’s payday from the guaranteed $800,000 to more than $1 million.

P.T. Barnum would have been proud.

Mike Tyson opens training camp in Las Vegas, Nev., Thursday to start preparations for his Feb. 12 defense against Buster Douglas in Tokyo. Then, it’s on to Evander Holyfield on June 18. What about Razor Ruddock, you may be wondering? In the words of Rooney, “What about him?” Apparently, the Razor is disposable.

Top Rank, which is shilling the unschooled Ray Mercer as “The man who will beat Tyson,” has an even better heavyweight prospect in the stable in quick-handed Bruce Seldon, unbeaten in eight fights with seven KOs. One Top Rank source admits Seldon has more natural ability than Mercer or Riddick Bowe, both of whom are getting the big push while Seldon remains hidden in walkout bouts. Said the source: “Seldon’s our secret weapon.”