Amy Weighs In....

June 4, 2010

Pedro, one of Foreman’s trainers, said his fighter would do a light workout at Gleason’s on Friday, the day before the fight, but I doubted it. Yuri was not at the gym this morning; I knew I’d see him later at the weigh-in.

My journey to Yankee Stadium on the No. 4 train was filled with anticipation. I’d missed going to a home game last year and while faithful to the old stadium, I was anxious to see the new one. This was an emotional homecoming of sorts for me, too, as my love of boxing came from my father, a Bronx boy and die-hard Yankee fan. I think about the old greats, Sugar Ray Robinson, Jake La Motta, Mohammed Ali, even Jack Johnson. I think about when fights went as long as the opponents were standing; I even think back to the days before gloves. In any event, there’s a long tradition of watching fights out of doors.

The announcer at the weigh-in invokes the line from “On The Waterfront,” :

A title shot…outdoors…in a ball park

Two fighters on the undercard come out first—super-welterweights Joe Greene from New York, and Vanes Martirosyan from Glendale, Ca. Freddie Roach is Vanes’ trainer, representing the Wild Card Boxing Gym in Hollywood where I once trained. It is good to see Freddie—good to see him so successful. (He trains Manny Pacquaio).

For the Main Event, Miguel Cotto comes on stage first. He is all glowering menace, in aviator shades. He quickly doffs headphones and a black knit cap and hands them to a rotund factotum standing guard beneath him. He shrugs off unlaced sneakers, his white Argentina # 28 Polo shirt; his navy cargo shorts, even his necklace. His tattoos are fierce. He wears royal blue Superman underpants and cups his hands demurely over his genitals. He weighs in at 153.5.

Foreman enters to boos. It’s a largely Latino, home crowd, with only a sprinkling of Orthodox Jews wearing skull caps and tallit. Yuri throws a few punches before getting on the scale and keeps his black booties on his feet. His underwear is also black, threaded with an elegant gold pattern, and he wears a signature jaunty cap. He weighs in at 154, a half-pound more than the challenger, but, at a rangy 5’11”, appears puny in comparison. Yuri grins impishly; Cotto never breaks a smile.

The fighters pose for photos side-by-side. They turn for the ritual stare-down. It seems contrived. But there will be plenty of people there tonight to “represent”: the Puerto Rican from Caguas vs. the Jew from Belarus by way of Israel.

I overhear Bob Arum say that someone’s nephew (Arum’s or Yuri’s) would be coming over from Israel to blow the shofar as Foreman enters the ring. It’s not an anomalous gesture. Before being used for religious practices (most notably at Rosh Hashonah) the shofar was blown as an Israeli call to war. One more marriage of spirituality and the fistic science.