Part 1 on The Making Of Mayweather Versus Pacquiao
It’s in Bob Arum’s smirk, that’s the telltale sign.
That’s why I am now convinced that negotiations for the Floyd Mayweather-Manny Pacquiao mega bout are moving swiftly, that the selif-imposed gag order is working on both sides of the ledger, and that the bout will transpire on November 13.
Pacman lands in New York next Wednesday and I believe that the Big Fight will, at that point, be on the verge of being finalized.
I think it will be mid-June when we see a humungous press conference announcing the fight that the world really awaits.
Now to the reading of the bread crumbs, to the venturing into Madame Auring territory…
I’ve been watching boxing promoter Bob Arum for over 40 years now, as a teenaged camp follower of Muhammad Ali, as a boxing writer, as TV producer working for Howard Cosell, as a manager of world champions including Terrible Terry Norris and as the propaganda chief for his dreaded archrival, Donald King.
Oh, yeah, almost forget. When I sued Shannon Briggs and Marc Roberts in federal court, I got to see Arum on the witness stand, ostensibly for the other side. Cheeky Bob was my best witness, telling the jury that he viewed the Brooklyn heavyweight as possibly “another Muhammad Ali.”
I never thanked Bob for not checking his hyperbole at the courthouse door, lol.
Pugilistic Professor Michael Marley asks students of The Sweet Science to compare and contrast Rosy, Nutfilled Cheeks Bob Artum to the troubling, hangdog visage of Morose Bob in this photo
I’ve had more jobs than “The Fugitive” but Arum has always remained anchored at the helm of his promotional outfits, first Main Bout Inc. and then Top Rank.
When Arum promoted and attended his very first boxing show, the Ali-Chuvalo bout at Maple Leaf Gardens in Toronto, I was there. Despite his persistent efforts, trainer Angelo Dundee, later a great news source and a wonderful friend, could not banish me from the Ali camp.
I’ve seen Happy Bob, I’ve seen Angry Bob and I’ve seen Blase Bob.
Some people are said to wear them emotions on their sleeves.
With Arum, you can gauge his emotional temperature by looking at his cheeks.
If they’re rosy red and puffy, all systems are go, smooth sailing, no whitecaps ahead.
If they’re deflated and his skin tone is grayish, hurricane warnings may be appropriate.
OK, you Arum Watchers, we now revert to fire engine redcheeked Arum, here beaming alonside then protege, Oscar de la Hoya, back in Oskie’s halcyon days making the Top Rank cash registers go ka-ching! (AP Photo)
I was a witness when Arum verbally roasted matchmaker Ron Katz after comedic heavyweight Butterbean was beaten in Madison Square Garden by Brooklyn journeyman Mitch Rose.
Arum’s language and demeanor would would’ve embarrassed a drunken sailor and it wasn’t long before Katz got the axe. (Come to think of it, Jack Nicholson in “The Last Detail” cursed less.)
One night, when I scribbled for The New York Post, it became apparent that King had outmaneuvered Arum to run fight shows in the Garden. Uncle Don outfoxed and outschmoozed Uncle Bobby, partially by lavishly praising Sonny Werblin’s ex-showgirl wife “the beautiful Leah Ray,” and the man who brought Broadway Joe Namath to New York was casting his boxing lot with King.
In that era, Arum smoked as much “weed” as Cheech & Chong. In fact, even today, he jokes about enjoying some “Maryjane” from time to time.
I’m not trying to say he is Sir Puffalot but back in the day, it was Maui Zowie, wowie, if you know what I mean, those of you who know the difference between rolling papers and The Rolling Stones.
I knew that, if a reporter called Arum after a certain hour, it was likely he would be, shall we say, in a slightly euphoric condition and might say just about anything.
But Arum was in a mood most foul when I called about King and Werblin hooking up.
“Werblin,” Arum barked, “is a senile, old drunk.”
I gave Arum about 12 chances to rescind the quote or tell me it was off the record but he persisted.
The next morning’s Post sports banner said, ‘ARUM; WERBLIN SENILE, OLD DRUNK.’
Arum ripped me for writing it, despite my warnings, but he never denied he said it.
On Tuesday, I saw Smirking Bob, with those puffed up cheeks looking they had walnuts inserted in them, at WBA junior middleweight champion Yuri Foreman’s media workout at Gleason’s Gym.
Arum could not have in a more lighthearted mood.
Cheeky Bob was in a bubbly, effervescent state, he surely was. Butter would not melt in his mouth.
It was all schtick and move and he played the role not of Bad Cop but that of Dumb Cop.
There’s been “no communication”…directly with him.
The purse split has to be 50-50…so Arum says but we’re never going to see the contracts so what harm is a little, white like here.
Mayweather-Pacquiao is getting made.
Mayweather-Pacquiao will be ready to be announced before June turns into July.
Mayweather-Pacquiao is a train that can’t be stopped.
Forget all the hearsay. Forget all the distractions.
Cheeky Bob is extremely happy.
Butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth right now.
Mayweather-Pacquiao is coming together nicely with his stepson Todd duBoef and Richard Schaefer huddling daily by telephone. Toddster reports all to Bob while Richie Rich reports all to Al Haymon.
Cheeky Bob is keeping his distance, at least publicly.
Mayweather-Pacquiao is about to become a reality.
If it doesn’t push through before July 1, I will eat my Kangol cap, adding only pepper for taste.
Read Arum’s face and you know Mayweather-Pacquiao will push through now.
It’s in his smirk.
