Off the Mat

When the end mercifully came after 14 body-battering, mind-numbing rounds, after Joe Frazier, his eyes beaten shut, failed to come out of his corner for the 15th round, conceding defeat to Muhammad Ali, boxing fans the world over united in praise.

The Thrilla in Manila had been just that, a fight for the ages.

More than a quarter-century later, many fans still call the 1975 heavyweight title match the greatest fight they have ever seen.

But not for the two participants.

Lost amid the adulation was the fact neither man would ever be the same in the ring. The fire had gone out of Smokin’ Joe Frazier. His eyes damaged, he only fought twice more, getting knocked out by George Foreman and then going 10 rounds to win a decision over somebody named Floyd Cummings, somebody who would probably have been gone in three rounds against the old Frazier.

Ali, who said he felt the experience of death during the fight, continued to box for six more years, but never again at the same level. Ali now suffers from Parkinson’s syndrome and, although the medical evidence is not definitive, many believe it was caused by his ring punishment.

There is no disputing the fact that many fighters are never the same after undergoing a severe beating in the ring.

But not all such victims are irreversibly damaged. Floyd Patterson was knocked down seven times by Ingemar Johansson in their first heavyweight title meeting, yet he came back to beat Johansson in two subsequent fights, winning both by knockout.

So which way will Fernando Vargas go? Will the beating he endured in December at the hands of Felix Trinidad, a beating that resulted in five knockdowns, puffy eyes and a swollen face, leave lasting scars? Or will Vargas bounce back from what many called “the fight of the year,” his fighting spirit and indomitable will intact?

Some answers will come Saturday night in El Paso, where Vargas (20-1, 18 knockouts) will face veteran Wilfredo Rivera (32-4-1, 20) in a 10-round junior middleweight bout.

Vargas, 23, scoffs at the idea he has suffered any lasting damage from the Trinidad bout, which cost him his International Boxing Federation 154-pound title.

“I made mistakes [against Trinidad],” he said. “It was hard for me to watch a tape of the fight at first. But I watched anyway, knowing great champions have lost. Why can’t I lose and come back? It’s what you do when you come back that counts.

“I was impatient [against Trinidad]. I tried to be something I’m not. I tried to be a brawler. That’s not what got me to be a world champion. I was not the fighter people saw against Yory Boy Campas, against Raul Marquez, against Ike Quartey. In those fights, I was intelligent. I picked my spots.”

He’s right about that. Vargas, who grew up fighting on the streets of Oxnard, took much of that bravado into his professional career. He could talk trash with the best of them.

When Ross Thompson, attempting to get at Vargas in a prefight news conference last year, accidentally split the lip of Vargas’ promoter, Gary Shaw, Vargas was ready to fight on the dais.

But the tough talk, menacing glare and other intimidating tactics usually disappeared with the sound of the opening bell. Fernando Vargas, hotheaded street fighter, was transformed into Fernando Vargas, cool professional.

He listened to his corner, stuck to his strategy, used his sound defensive skills, felt out his opponent and attacked only when prudent.

Until he met Trinidad.

But for Vargas to say that he abandoned all that had worked so well for him in the past simply because of machismo is not fair to Trinidad.

Having had only 20 professional fights, Vargas wasn’t ready to face arguably the world’s best fighter. He found himself standing in front of more firepower than he had ever before experienced.

The look on Vargas’ face after he was struck by a left hook 23 seconds into the fight, a hook that put him down for the first time, tells it all.

It wasn’t a look of anger or desolation.

It was a look of shock.

Before sinking to the canvas, Vargas stared at Trinidad as if to say, “I didn’t know anyone could hit that hard.”

No, it wasn’t ego that caused Vargas to turn into a brawler. It was desperation.

A roundhouse left put Vargas down again in the first round.

Before that long night in Las Vegas was over, Vargas was also on the receiving end of three low blows and went down three more times in the 12th round, the knockout blow coming from a Trinidad right hand with 1:27 remaining in the bout.

Vargas put up a brave front afterward, but he was hurting, inside and out. He went into seclusion.

“Anybody loses, they feel bad,” he said. “You think, now what? I didn’t want to go out for awhile. My pride was hurt. You feel bad about yourself. And whatever you are thinking, you feel that people are thinking the same thing. I let myself down and my fans down.”

Finally, after a few weeks, Vargas ventured out to a club and was amazed at the reception.

“People just mobbed me,” he said, “and showed me nothing but love. It was unbelievable. The bald heads, the tattoos, all those people were out there telling me, ‘Man, we had your back. We still have your back.’ It felt so good.

They hugged me so hard, it felt like my bones were going to crack.”

Vargas’ manager, Shelly Finkel, is confident Vargas will soon be back cracking other people’s bones.

“He understands what happened,” Finkel said, “and he doesn’t put the blame on anyone else. He knows what went wrong. That’s the first step, accepting blame, not denying it. At the end of the day, he is the one who took the punches. It’s all part of the maturing process.”

Facing Felix Trinidad is a tough way to mature.

Vargas said he’d like to get back in the ring with Trinidad, but that will have to wait for another day. On Saturday, Vargas should be content to just get back in the ring and back into the win column.

FERNANDO VARGAS vs. WILFREDO RIVERA

At Don Haskins Center

El Paso

10 ROUNDS

JUNIOR MIDDLEWEIGHTS

TV--HBO

(Delayed at 10:45 PDT)