PULP FICTION DEPT: Hello, there. My name is Dr. Harry Fosheem. I am a psychiatrist, a shrink, a head doctor and I specialize in treating some real nut jobs, professional boxers.
This, for Your Eyes Only, is a post-fight interview I had with Marco Antonio Barrera Sunday in Las Vegas. This is hush-hush, confidential, privileged material so please do not send it along to any of those scandalous Internet boxing sites.
Q. Marco, except for that little cut on your face, you?re unmarked. How did you escape after 12 rounds with Manny Pacquaio so unscathed?
A. Only God knows. I feel like a guy who just spent 36 minutes in the belly of an active volcano. Or maybe like the poor fellow who had to walk through Hell wearing a gasoline suit. Now I know what sleeping in a bed filled with scorpions is like.
Q. Some paying customers in the arena booed your less than aggressive effort. Does that bother you?
A. Were they booing before they started boozing? No, I wanted to go back to the wife and kids in Mexico with a few brain cells still operating. I warned all the people this was gonna be my last day on the job. I?d like to go to where some of these schmucks work and boo them when they have an off day. Hey Joe, you just dropped the stapler. Hey Mary, you spent 15 minutes at the water cooler. How do you think they would like that?
Q. What did you think of the judges scoring?
A. The judges what?the judges snoring? With my fight plan, which was strictly one of preserving my mental faculties, they should?ve all called it 12-0 in rounds for that Filipino wrecking machine. They should put a label on Pacman?s gloves like the ones they put on cigarette packages. Even the Sturgeon General knows that fighting Pacquiao is like diving into the surf where you know the Great White Sharks are…and you go into the water bleeding.
Q. What happened to the boxer?s code of honor, to going out on your shield?
A. That?s stupid. Going out on a stretcher is more like it. Where?s the glory in that, having your major medical insurance rate double or triple? Or greeting your family and friends from a gurney in the emergency room? Some fat, middle-aged boxing writer came up with that claptrap. Did you see how these guys stuff their faces on the free, media center grub? I wanted to say, hey, slow down George Thimball and Michael Spatz, this isn?t the Last Supper. These guys should use shovels, not forks.
Q. So you?re retired. Who do you think will step forward now and beat Manny? Will it be Edwin Valero, JM Marquez, Joan Guzman, David Diaz or Michael Kastidis?
A. All of the above can beat Pacman. But only if they attack him five on one. That way they can swarm him like those midge bugs attacked the Yankees during that playoff game in Cleveland. Individually, none of them can beat Megamanny right now. But I look for slippage by the time he turns about 40.
Q. Any words of advice to these potential Pacman foes?
A. It?s like a beggars? banquet the way they?re all pleading for a fight with Manny and you know what they say in Cancun, beggars can?t be choosers. I think my most sagacious, persipacious advice I could give those fighters is this:?be afraid, be very afraid. Try to go the limit and avoid breaking any limbs which you use on a daily basis, like your arms, your legs. The forecast for all those guys is really summarized in five words. The words are?major pain and you lose.
Q. Why didn?t you punch to the body more?
A. Why don?t you go stick your head into a hot oven or thrust your left arm into an active cement mixer. You?re a big one for idiotic advice, Dr. Sigmund Fraud. Why don?t you go play in rush hour traffic on the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, my friend? Where did you get your diploma, Mitch Green’s College of Medical Knowledge?
Q. Well, you put in your 18, 19 years in the pro ring, mi hermano. I wish you well. Any final word of advice to the next guy who climbs into the ring with Pacquaio?
A. Sure, make sure the life insurance policy is updated. And make sure the promoter?s check is not postdated. Other than that, adios. I got to go meet those guys from San Miguel Beer about those commercials with me, Erik Morales and Manny. We got something big brewing in the Phillipines. And the key word is brewing, you two-bit shrink you. When was the last time you had your head examined, Fosheem? I think you could really use a check up from the neck up yourself.
Barrera exits to a leisurely life of commercials and endorsements. Dr. Fosheem strokes his chin as his secretary buzzes him on the intercom to say, “Doctor, Ms. Spears in here for her one o’clock appointment.”
