Dave Patek – SEF President
Well…
Let’s just say that our junket to Springfield was an event in and of itself. The Coyne and Flores fights provided a nice backdrop to a Saturday night of binge drinking and some outstanding, laughable moments that I am still trying dredge my pickled brain for…here goes.
Doug and I pulled into Springfield at roughly 5:00 and changed so quickly into our evening clothes, that I failed to realize I was dressed like a complete douchebag. More on that fiasco later. After eating at one of the more recognizable drinking establishments (in which a macho-mug sized pitcher of Long Island Iced tea was consumed), we headed to the O’Reilly Events Center on the campus of Drury University.
After meeting a buddy of mine from Springfield (Hey Joe!), we found our seats and immediately sniffed out the closest route to the beer tap. Had I known in advance Coors Light would have been the only tapped beverage, I might have been able to warn young Joseph about the behavior his was about to witness. Coors Light and I have a long history of trouble – and it has long been a silent enabler of mine for nearly 20 years. I was about to lose complete control in front of 3000 strangers in a place that was completely unfamiliar.
The event itself was actually pretty cool. The local television stations were broadcasting the fight to the community and it was also being broadcast (for a fee) over the internet. Of course, much of this was due to the fact that local contender BJ Flores was being featured in the main event. This brings me to my first beer-influenced observation. As the preliminary fights were taking place, Flores (unannounced) entered the arena and walked down a very long flight of stairs past his adoring fans. I am certain that this was a segment for the live broadcast – as the spotlight followed his every move. Not really a disturbing event by itself, but the fact that there was no mention over the PA system of this ‘event’ left Douglas, Joe and I to start announcing our own introductions. Out of respect for Flores, I will refrain from specifics. By this time, we had moved to the balcony to be next to the camera crew – and were asked to be quiet. Apparently our voices were being picked up by the local broadcast truck and they were forced to use a delay on the telecast.
The undercard was pretty decent – the fights were matched evenly, and the fans seemed to be getting into them. I did note that it was much louder in the O'Reilley Center than it has been at most of the St. Louis fights this past year.
We were initially excited to see Robbie Cannon back in the ring after a break. He got into a war with Steve Mincks (5-20) that seemed less of a slugfest - and more of a slap boxing exhibition. Cannon still has his skills – but his power is less than desirable. On more than one occasion, Robbie had his opponent in trouble, but failed to finish him. In the end, a bloodied Cannon had to settle for a draw. In my opinion, Rob needs to fight more frequently and work with a strength trainer. He has the tools to be a decent regional fighter – but he does not sit on his punches…and often looks like an amateur. He’s a good kid, and we wish him the best.
After a brief intermission (and an extended smoke break for the Prez), a few MMA bouts took place. This was a little surprising to me; although, it’s becoming a staple with this economy…MMA is a “value added’ feature that tends to bring out fans that would not normally come out to see a boxing match.
I didn’t stick around for much of the MMA stuff, but I did manage to watch one fighter completely dominate another for 3 rounds, only to be caught in a triangle choke that nearly killed him. He was in the hold for a good 30 seconds before the ref (who shall remain nameless here) started raising his hand (think Ted Dibiase and the Million Dollar Dream) to see if he was awake. He wasn’t. By the third arm drop, the fight was waved off – and a stunned crowd stood up to see the body. Thankfully, he wasn’t dead – and in celebration, we raced to the Coors window to redeem our remaining drink tickets.
By the time Ryan Coyne (The Irish Outlaw) made his way to the ring, I was covering my left eye in order to prevent double vision. I had been telling the camera crew all night about Ryan’s opponent - James Crawford. Crawford is not a household name, but has fought some of them (Jeff Lacy, Danny Green). When Coyne’s foe was announced, I was a little surprised. Jonathan Corn…(47-22), I had last seen Corn fight William Joppy in St. Louis on the undercard of the Spinks/Karmazin fight – and I was well aware of what was about to happen.
Let me digress here…
I have ALWAYS been critical of how opponents are chosen for local prospects – and in some cases, national ones. Many times, a decent fighter will be fed a steady diet of bums in order to pad his record and make him an attractive opponent for a fringe contender, or title holder. It happens all the time. However, sometimes a fighter is left with the option of either not fighting…or taking on the replacement fighter. I heard from a few insiders that Corn’s appearance was strictly to make sure the Outlaw had a fight…and didn’t have to make a last minute cancellation. In any case, what a fighter does to an opponent such as Corn is important.
Off the soapbox. Ryan had Corn in trouble before his entrance music stopped playing. In typical Coyne fashion, he went for the most vulnerable spot on Jonathan – his soft (flabby for 185) belly. After landing numerous right hooks to the mid-section of Corn, and flooring him twice, the officials had seen enough. It wasn’t much of a fight – which was fine for us, because by that point we were bordering on being ejected. I do want to mention that Coyne’s handlers have done a remarkable job in helping him to cut weight. He looked incredibly fast at 183 – and seemed to keep every bit of power in that right hand of his. No offense Ryan, I still am not a fan of that overhand left. That’s OK though, former Heavyweight Champ Michael Moorer is Ryan’s Chief second now…and I am confident that we’ll see a new look from that side before long. Moorer knows a thing or two about being left handed.
Before Flores took the main stage, I departed the arena for a quick smoke, which turned into one of the more poignant moments of my evening. Outside the main entrance (where the big screen was clearly visible) I struck up a conversation with two local kids who openly criticized BJ for taking too many “stepping stone” fights and being afraid to take on real opponents like Coyne and Jeremiah Graziano (another MO Cruiserweight who is showing potential).
I didn’t talk a whole lot, but I did listen to them vent for 10 minutes. I thought about telling them that BJ had just lost to one of the best Crusiers in the world (Danny Green), but I decided to let them go. I played dumb (which by this point would be considered accurate since I could barely keep myself upright). They said he didn’t fight enough (also not entirely true – he just fought and beat a sound opponent in Nick Ianuzzi at that VERY area less than 4 months earlier…granted he’s had some layoffs). They said he wasn’t that good (disagreed again…BJ is a very good fighter – and big for a cruiserweight). Overall, I disagreed with nearly everything these two kids said to me – but somehow totally understood them, and sympathized. In St. Louis, we have the luxury of MANY good fighters in different weight classes. In Springfield, they have BJ Flores.
Somehow the earlier image of BJ entering the building surrounded by the spotlight all made sense. He is a bona fide celebrity in Southwest Missouri. Cheryl Crow, Brad Pitt – BJ Flores. I get it…and I understood the disappointment in Flores, though it’s probably not justified. The reason Coyne left the Cruiser division is the lack of decent fights that are available. I mean, Flores already lost to Green – most certainly his largest payday by far. He has few options – yeah, there is Steve Cunningham and Lateef Kayode in the US…and a few fights overseas, but the bottom line is – the Crusier division is not where superstars are being bred, and unfortunately , BJ is stuck there for a while.
Which brings us to his fight Saturday night – against Paul Jenette (a guy that Coyne beat soundly). While Jenette is in great shape (for a 41 year old), he’s not a world beater – and hardly a threat to a fighter of Flores’ stature. It was an easy win. BJ was rarely touched by his opponent, though he really didn’t lay into Paul either. He seemed to be carrying him to get the fans into the fight. Of course, the SEF crew tried to incite a riot by screaming “SHOCK THE WORLD PAUL” until we were (again) told to be quiet by the TV crew. No riot, and an easy win for El Peligroso.
After the Flores bout, we were informed that two more fights would take place – though last call had already been announced…and we needed to be at Jeckyll and Hyde’s in downtown Springfield for the Outlaw’s after party. We bolted as fast as we could to the door and called for our cab (drink responsibly) – which never arrived after 30 minutes of waiting with a full bladder. Joe (who had not been drinking) decided that he would be our DD for the evening – and we departed. This is where things get a little sketchy…
Rumple Minze is a very dangerous liquor.
While waiting for the Outlaw and his crew to arrive, we partook in no less than 10 of these mouth-watering mouthwash –tasting shots. Joe stood by in complete disbelief as we dismembered one full bottle and moved onto the next . Do you have any idea how hard it is to say RUMPLE MINZE when you are full tilt? Exactly. So, by the time Team Outlaw arrived, we were well on the way to making fools of ourselves.
In anticipation of meeting Michael Moorer, I had prepared myself on what to say…and more importantly what NOT to say. I had this whole soliloquy that I was planning on giving: “ Mike, man…it’s great meeting you, I remember the night you beat Evander Holyfield – you are truly one of the last great heavyweights” (yadda yadda yadda). Nope. Didn’t happen. I think I said something like: “ Miiish, hhey brothaaa! You beat Frannnth Bothha on the Holyfield/Tython undercard! Vaughn Bean too!
Moorer looked at me like I had two heads, with a nod of respect to my history lesson and then embarrassingly said “Man, that was a long time ago – be careful.” Moment ruined. I could have been eloquent and bought the man a beer or something, but no…I tried to show off, and made a fool of myself.
It was at this point that the Outlaw walked over to us to say hello. He started to tell me about his fight, but I could tell that his eyes were wandering. I looked behind me to see if something was distracting him…there was a black lady back there with more grommets in her face than a DC-9. I was about to comment on it when I realized that the Outlaw was looking at how I was dressed. The douchebag alarm had sounded (finally) and he called me on my ridiculous outfit: Knockoff Robert Graham button down (sleeves cuffed), sandals and a VISOR. This called for another drink – which I took.
Someone handed me an airplane bottle of strawberry vodka…which is the one thing that could have knocked me out faster than a Coyne uppercut. Somehow, Joe snuck us out of the bar before things got out of hand…thankfully, he’d only been watching Douglas and I poison ourselves and hadn’t participated. I don’t remember much – only flashes of Doug puking out of Joe’s window, a luggage cart rolling down a flight of stairs at our hotel... a bearded night clerk screaming at us about having to ‘bounce’ – and the abrasions on my knees and palms. We woke up at 10:30 Sunday morning, confused as to how we arrived in our room. At checkout, the morning clerk told us of our troubles the previous evening. I left – praying that a luggage cart would not show up on my bank statement.
Good Times.
Prez
