[Previous entry: "R.I.P. Coach and Referee Bill Thornburg "] [Main Index] [Next entry: "Klitschko jabs his way to victory!"]
02/24/2008 Archived Entry: "Klitschko defends heavyweight title"
Klitschko defends heavyweight title
By Mike DeLisa at ringside (sort of)
NEW YORK--Well, the who-what-where-when-why of it is well known by now – Wladimir Klitschko won a unanimous decision over Sultan Ibragimov. Writing that sentence was more exhilarating than watching the bout.
The call from Bert Sugar had come shortly after one pm: “I’m calling to remind you that you are credentialed for tonight and to meet me around 6:30 at what used to be Charley-O’s by the Garden.”
With that gentle prompt, I quickly prepared for my first fight night at the Garden since my ignominious departure from Venezuela. So, after a quick shower, shave, Clonazepam, and couple of Sudafed, I jumped into my tricked out Kia (meaning one faux spinner hubcap and a Tony Bennett CD) and hit the LIE headed for Manhattan. By three pm I thought it safe to call matchmaker and legend Johnny Bos – at 4 pm he finally answered the phone. I needed Bos to sign some additional copies of our recent book, Who Lies There? A Compendium of Boxing Obituaries (yes I know, that was a shameless plug – it is available as a featured item at http://cyberboxingstore.com/).
Johnny signed the books and we rummaged through his amazing archives until nearly 7, when I cut out for “what used to Charley-O’s.” Bert was there holding court for several sportswriters and, perhaps, the burgomaster of Xepcoh (that is in the Ukraine for those too lazy to Google.) Luckily I didn’t have to sit with Bert; instead boxing good guy Brian Adams squeezed me in at the table with his family and friends. We even had room for another erstwhile boxer and current HBO.com analyst Steve Small. After a Jack Daniels or two and a few more Sudafed, I was ready for the main event.
Walking to the press section I realized this was not the typical NY fight crowd. Generously sprinkled among the crowd were an amazing number of beautiful women. Almost all had unnerving blue eyes, brown boots, a diamond ring, and an oblivious boyfriend. Many were carrying blue and white flags. It seemed this match up had the markings of a tribal confrontation with the Russians in favor of Ibragimov, from Rosten-na-Dov and the Champion Klitschko from Kiev. I needed to observe this more closely so I jumped into a ringside seat one level up from the press level. From my feet billows of smoke poured forth – I was sitting directly above the entrance way for the fighters. First Sultan Ibragimov and then Wladimir Klitschko strolled by and climbed into the ring. The crowd cheered each of their favorites, and it seemed to be split evenly in their opinion.
After the introductions, referee Wayne Kelly called the fighters out and the fight was on.
In the Arabic language, Ibragimov’s first name, Sultan, is an abstract noun meaning "strength," "authority," or "rulership." It is also a name of a Turkish type of Solitaire. Considering the distance between the fighters and the lack of action, I think Solitaire is a more apt definition.
Klitschko, waiting for the one clean shot, was as patient and immobile as Vasily Zaytsev stalking Major König. But at least the confrontation between snipers in the ruins of St. Petersberg had a little suspense.*
Except for a peculiar swatting by Wladimir at Sultan’s southpaw jab (since when did paddycake become part of boxing?), the most interesting aspect of the bout was watching Klit step on Sultan’s foot. I actually considered attending the press conference simply to ask if Sultan’s feet ached.
In contrast to the Herculean Klitschko, Ibragimov looks like a slightly beefy UPS driver – the kind of guy who is comfortable wearing short pants in cold weather. Notwithstanding his post-fight comments, I did not see any attempt on his part to win the fight, although in later rounds he looked like a frustrated UPS driver, unable to find the correct address.
By the seventh round the crowd was united – booing after each successive round or cheering the odd punch that landed. Klit took over in the later rounds, scored what I would have ruled a knockdown but Kelly saw otherwise, and sometimes landed as many as 3 or 5 punches, and took the unanimous decision.
So, I left the Garden singing sotto voce:**
“Well the Ukraine girls really knock me out
They leave the west behind
And Moscow girls make me sing and shout
and Joe Frazier's always on my my my my my my my my my mind!”**
* Jude Law and Ed Harris portrayed their confict in the movie, Enemy at the Gates
**Sung to the tune of the Beattle's song, "Back in the U.S.S.R."
