Safety, Sport’s Object at Odds

As the two figures cautiously approached each other on the park pathway, the looks of trepidation were quickly washed away in a flood of tears.

More than 40 years of tears.

It was in 1962 that Emile Griffith beat Benny “Kid” Paret so badly in a welterweight title fight in Madison Square Garden that Paret died. Paret left a young son, Benny Jr., who had never met Griffith until the two were brought together after more than four decades for a documentary.

The emotions that filled their eyes and flowed through their hearts were not staged. The wound opened by a ring death never heals. Certainly not for the victim’s family. But also not in the heart and mind of the fighter whose punches ended a life. Nor for the third man in the ring.

There’s Ruby Goldstein. Perhaps, the best referee of his era, Goldstein did not move quickly enough to stop the Griffith-Paret fight until Griffith had landed more than 20 unanswered punches against an opponent caught defenseless on the ropes.

Goldstein never refereed another match.

There’s also Gabriel Ruelas, whose 1995 match against Jimmy Garcia resulted in Garcia’s death.

When Ruelas went to the hospital to visit Garcia while he lay in a coma, Ruelas encountered the fighter’s mother, Carmen, who kept looking at Ruelas’ hands as he spoke.

What are you looking at? Ruelas wanted to know.

“I want to see the hands that killed my son,” she said.

After losing his next match, against Azumah Nelson, a badly shaken Ruelas said the opposing figure in the ring had Nelson’s body, but the face Ruelas saw on top of that body was that of Garcia.

Ruelas was never the same as a fighter.

Now, it is Jesus Chavez who must grapple with the ghosts that inevitably will linger after yet another ring fatality. Leavander Johnson, Chavez’s opponent in last Saturday’s lightweight title fight at Las Vegas’ MGM Grand Garden Arena, died of a brain injury Thursday.

After what seems like a sudden epidemic of head injuries in the ring, the Nevada State Athletic Commission will undertake a massive study to determine if there is a root cause for such horrifying outcomes besides the obvious: The object of this sport is to do bodily harm to one’s opponent.

Johnson was the fourth fighter to suffer a hematoma in Nevada this year. One of the other three, Martin Sanchez, also died. Another boxer, Ruben Contreras, suffered a brain injury in a fight at Staples Center this year but has since recovered much of his mental awareness and muscle control.

The simple solution for Johnson would have been for the fight to have ended sooner. Johnson had been on the receiving end of 409 punches from Chavez, when referee Tony Weeks finally stepped in to end the match 38 seconds into the 11th round. Several ringside observers had implored Weeks earlier in the round to stop the pummeling.

But this is the same Weeks who stepped in at just the right instant last May in the Diego Corrales-Jose Luis Castillo fight, shielding Castillo from serious injury.

When does the glory -- Corrales-Castillo is considered one of the greatest fights in recent memory -- become too gory? When does a fighter go from being courageous to foolhardy? For Weeks and his fellow referees, it can change in the blink of an eye and the flick of a glove.

“We have to do something,” said Richard Schaefer of Golden Boy Promotions, which staged last Saturday’s event. “Maybe more extensive testing of the fighters prior to the fight would reveal prior physical problems.

“I also think we should look into the different gloves used by the fighters. I am told that some gloves seem to result in more knockouts than others.”

Marc Ratner, executive director of the Nevada commission, concedes solutions are elusive.

“There isn’t a common thread,” he said.

Rapid weight loss before the fight can be a problem. But wasn’t a factor in Johnson’s case, according to his father, Bill, who was also his trainer.

Mismatches can result in fatal outcomes. But Johnson had won three of his last four fights and was coming off the biggest win of his 16-year career, a victory three months earlier to give him the International Boxing Federation lightweight championship.

The problem with any solution is that, if it goes too far, it will alienate boxing’s core audience. The harsh reality is that the paying customers come to see blood and guts.

The pros could opt for Olympic-style boxing, complete with head gear and a standing eight-count whenever a fighter is shaken up. Gloves could be sufficiently padded to reduce knockouts.

That would substantially lessen the number of injuries.

But that would also lessen the appeal and thus, the size of the audiences, both live and in homes via pay-per-view. Would promoters be willing to make less money? Would the fighters?

“I once asked Nelson Mandela [former president of South Africa], himself an outstanding amateur,” said boxing television analyst Larry Merchant, “ ‘How do you reconcile your belief in nonviolence with your passion as a boxing fan?’ He said, ‘When you fight, it’s voluntary. Nobody makes you fight.’ ”

In his half century as a member of the boxing media, Merchant has seen considerable progress in protecting the fighters.

“It has been made much safer,” he said. “You have far fewer eye injuries, which were routine once upon a time because of the old gloves. Once upon a time, championship fights were 15 rounds. Now they are 12. And many fights are now stopped a little early rather than a little late.

“But look, it’s an inherently dangerous sport. Even the most talented, cautious guys can and do get hurt.”

Which leads to the ultimate solution, one sure to be heard again after Johnson’s death: Ban boxing.

It was banned once. So fights were staged on barges in the middle of a river. Be assured, there wasn’t much concern for the safety of the boxers out there in the water.

Legal or not, boxers will fight, promoters will promote and fans will watch and bet and scream for blood. Boxing is the most primal of all sports and would be the hardest to eradicate.

It can be staged in brightly lighted arenas under the watchful eyes of doctors and referees. Or it can be staged in the dark shadows of underground clubs, today’s equivalent of a barge.

As a fighter, which would you prefer?