The Staples Center may not be as hallowed a boxing venue as The Grand Olympic Auditorium was in its heyday, but when Julio Cesar Chavez Jr. tries to win his first alphabet title tomorrow night against Sebastian Zbik, the home of the L.A. Lakers?and not the home of Bobby Chacon, Mando Ramos, Manuel Ortiz, Enrique Bolanos, Art Aragon, and the original JC Superstar?will have to suffice.
With a gaudy record, a famous last name, and a work ethic comparable to that of Oblomov, Chavez has been maligned for years by the fickle American media corps. But Chavez, who makes his debut on HBO after more than 40 outings, is the rare fighter who can make a living without being subsidized by a premium cable network. And he has done so the old-fashioned way: by getting people to buy tickets and order pay-per-views. If HBO suddenly unplugged its support from Andre Berto and Chad Dawson it would be like cutting the tether of astronauts during a spacewalk: they would float away along with interstellar debris and drifting asteroids, never to be seen or heard from again. In the hypothetical case of the astronauts, this would be a tragedy; as far as the HBO headliners go, maybe not such a bad thing.
It says a lot about the current state of boxing that fighters who draw 911 spectators to a title defense and routinely hear the sounds of boos?if not the even louder sounds of absolute silence?are rewarded with dates on HBO and are paid outrageous sums of money for reasons harder to crack than a first-rate ?Whodunit.? After all, the fighters who are regularly overpaid and who regularly underperform on HBO are just as mediocre as Chavez supposedly is. But they are often lauded despite the yawns they inspire and some of them even appear on several noxious ?P-4-P? lists. This seems like a case of confusing the medium with the message. Just because HBO offers its mystifying stamp of approval to those whom the general public rejects does not argue in favor of their superiority as fighters. But corporate branding is a difficult thing to overcome, and in boxing, located on Mystery Street and where smoke and mirror is as important as bats and gloves are to baseball, it is nearly impossibly to tell reality from fantasy.
Except for his stupefying waltz against Troy Rowland in 2009?a bout turned into a no-contest after Chavez tested positive for a banned substance?Chavez has almost always been an entertaining pug. His fights against Luciano Cuello, Jose Celaya, Ray Sanchez, Matt Vanda, and John Duddy were all, for the most part, fiercely contested brawls. Against the free-swinging Duddy last summer, Chavez found himself in a dogfight early, and when Duddy wobbled him with a blistering overhand right in the sixth round, Chavez did not, like some million dollar headliners, immediately disintegrate or reach out for an extended bear hug. Instead, he encouraged Duddy to go for broke and traded hard shots enthusiastically for the remainder of the round.
Although Chavez, 41-0-1-1 (30), is usually solid entertainment, there is good chance this fight will wind up a little duller than expected. Because Zbik, like many experienced pros, is clueless on the inside, he spends an awful lot of time between the ropes in full grappling mode. If Chavez fails to neutralize this tactic-?say, with a few hard shots to the ribs?then Zbik will be able to keep the rounds close. Zbik, 30-0 (10), has spent years outboxing anonymous European pugs, with Domenico Spada, who lost two decisions to Zbik, being perhaps the toughest of them. Spada appeared to outwork Zbik in their first fight, but fell short on the cards in Germany. He bulled Zbik around the ring, worked him over in close, and forced Zbik to alternate between covering up and retreating. Chavez and Freddie Roach, his trainer, may look to emulate that gameplan from the opening bell.
Still, in many ways, both fighters remain mysteries to an extent, and Zbik, who has never fought outside of Europe, might be the bigger mystery of the two. Like Andre Berto and Jean Pascal, Zbik, 29, has glaring flaws that make you want to ship him a copy of ?Championship Fighting? by Jack Dempsey via Fed Ex. First, Zbik drops his left hand so often during a fight that one has to wonder whether or not he is morally opposed to holding it up. In addition, Zbik routinely steps back in a straight line when pursued, and he predictably moves to his right 95 percent of the time when boxing from the outside. His worst flaw, however, is a tendency to throw lead right uppercuts from a distance. A world-class prizefighter will put an end to that tic in short order, but Zbik has yet to come across one (sighting a world-class prizefighter these days is like spotting a white tiger in the wild) and Chavez certainly does not fit the bill.
For his part, Chavez, Culiacan, Sinaloa, Mexico, tends to lean over too much on the inside, neglects to use his jab, and offers spotty defense at best. His right hand is not the most potent weapon, and Chavez, 25, sometimes relies too much on his left hook, which is effective in the trenches, especially when thrown to the body.
Neither man seems to have enough power to stop the other. At middleweight, Chavez has never scored a KO, and as his competition has improved, the stoppages have vanished. He will have to rely on pressure and volume punching to outwork Zbik, who will look to counter judiciously. If Zbik can spoil in close, work harder than he usually does, and avoid tripping over his own shortcomings, he can make things difficult for Chavez at times. Even so, while Zbik, Schwerin, Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, Germany, is picking his spots, Chavez will be throwing leather. Look for Chavez to score a close, perhaps messy, decision over a stubborn Zbik. But the shadows of Ramos, Chacon, Ortiz, Bolanos, and, indeed, Julio Cesar Chavez, Sr., will not be any smaller come Sunday morning.
