BOXING : The Macho Man Doesn’t Look So Macho These Days

So this is what it has come down to for Hector Camacho, after almost 10 years in the ring -- 38 victories and three world titles -- playing the clown to Vinny Pazienza’s wholesome avenger in Saturday night’s circus-like 12-round bout at the Convention Center that has been dubbed “Put Up or Shut Up.”

Camacho-Pazienza, ostensibly for Camacho’s dubious World Boxing Organization junior welterweight title, is a manufactured-for-cable-TV non-event employing boxing hype at its worst. The promotional campaign for this bout has included elements of racism, sexism, ethnicity and homophobia. It is another step in the inevitable process of lowering boxing to the level of Wrestlemania. The good news is you can bring all this into your living room on pay-per-view television.

The fighters could earn $1 million each, depending upon public response. Those who choose to pay for this deserve what they get. At one time, Camacho deserved better. But now, as a jaded and cynical 27-year-old, Camacho seems resigned to his role. It is how he earns his living. “I created me,” he said. “I know what it’s all about. I get tired of it, but I have to do it. I’m doing business, promoting a fight. I gotta keep the fans coming, and they will keep coming, until someone kicks my butt.”

The promotion for this bout has included the following lowlights:

--A commercial featuring Camacho and Pazienza in a dark alley, making like two characters out of “West Side Story.” Pazienza’s line about Camacho wearing “sissy clothes” drew protests from gay rights groups.

--Camacho punching Pazienza in the forehead during a photo shoot when Pazienza, egged on by his co-manager, Lou Duva, began bullying Camacho.

--Camacho punching Pazienza’s trainer, Kevin Rooney, when Rooney took exception to a Camacho statement at a news conference and rushed the podium. In the ensuing melee, promoter Dan Duva suffered a knee injury that required surgery.

--Camacho punching Ray Mancini, his “good guy” foe in a similarly promoted bout last year, at another news conference. In a move that will set back objective television commentary many decades, Mancini has been hired as the analyst for the telecast.

--A promotional video cassette sent out to the boxing media showing scenes of Pazienza starching inferior opponents and of Camacho clowning and taunting Pazienza, Duva and Rooney. The message is clear -- Pazienza is the fighter, Camacho the fool.

“This whole thing was a phony grudge to begin with. I didn’t know Pazienza at all,” Camacho said. “But now I’m getting mad, because Rooney and Fred Flintstone (Camacho’s name for Lou Duva) are trying to promote Pazienza as the better fighter. Who’s he ever beat?”

Who, indeed? A gutsy, working-class kid who at one point was compared to Camacho in terms of fighting -- and sartorial -- style, Pazienza (28-3, 23 KOs) has beaten only one ranked fighter in his career: Greg Haugen for the International Boxing Federation lightweight title before 15,000 screaming fans in the Providence Civic Center in June 1987. That win is generally considered to have been a hometown decision -- Haugen easily reversed it eight months later. For the old Camacho, the one who boxed circles around Jose Luis Ramirez in 1985 and outgutted Edwin Rosario in 1986, Pazienza would be tailor-made. Now, following the close win over Mancini and several lackluster performances against journeymen, there are no sure things for Camacho, although he still believes there are.

“I’m going to be dictating all night,” he said. “I’m never going to be on the ropes. I’ll be moving, firing quick combinations. I’m going to be slick and fast and smooth, like in the Ramirez fight. I’ll be the Macho Man again.”

But Camacho, once one of the most naturally talented and fluid boxers in the ring, has not fought like the Macho Man since Round 11 of the Rosario fight, when he was nearly knocked out. Since then, he has been a pacifist once the bell rings. “The turning point was the Rosario fight,” Camacho said. “I started losing interest in boxing, in the fans and all the antics. I was doing just enough to get over. You try to fight to have some fun, and all you get is criticism. The fans get on you. You hear it on the street, you hear it in the mall, you read it in the papers. It starts to get to you. It stops being fun.”

This time, Camacho has had fun. Perhaps his only real worry is that he will be done in by the Macho Man, his Puerto Rican bad-boy alter ego that the fans love to boo. This time, it could cost him the fight, and he knows it. He saw it happen Monday night to his brother Felix, who lost a majority decision to Sammy Ruiz largely because the crowd booed his -- and Hector’s -- antics during the fight.

As sometimes happens, the judges scored with their ears. “I may have turned off the judges,” Camacho admitted. “But I’m there to promote my fight. We both were doing business. I did mine, Felix didn’t do his. How can you put this on my case?”

If the fight is at all close, the same fate may await Hector. Providence, R.I., Pazienza’s hometown, will jam the 12,800-seat arena, ready to boo its favorite villain.

“I know they’re coming to boo me,” Camacho said. “If they don’t boo, I get mad. Sure, it’s a lot of pressure, but I know what I have to do, and I’m going to do it. I’ve always done it.”

When you’re a Macho Man, it goes with the territory.