OnThEGRiND BoXiNG

Saturday May 16th, 2009
By Padraig Hoare

We’ve seen it all now. Boxing finally entered the realm of Bizarro-World in Belfast tonight.

On a glorious occasion that should have secured Martin Rogan’s place among the sporting immortals on the isle of Ireland, instead we were treated to a refereeing performance straight from the Jerry Seinfeld Bizarro-World playbook. Rogan lost his Commonwealth heavyweight title on a cuts stoppage, despite having his opponent all but knocked out 30 seconds earlier. It had all the hallmarks of a dubious hometown decision, except it was the hometown fighter on the receiving end.

A little perspective first about why Irish fans will rightly bitch and moan for weeks to come. Sports fans across the world have all had their gripes with “homer” decisions in the past. Football, baseball, hockey - every sport has had its embarrassing moment with officials influenced by the baying of the hometown crowd. Boxing has suffered more than most. It’s a vomit-inducing practice at the best of times. We’ve all seen fighters from Germany hold on to their titles after suffering one-sided routings. Ditto in Japan. Hell, we even saw Danny Williams almost come undone in Spain last year when promoter Ahmed Ohner tried to ring the bell to save his man when Konstantin Airich was being pummelled from pillar to post by the Brixton Bomber. Homers, man. The sonsabitches ruin our sport.

It seems Northern Ireland is the exception to the rule. In important, career defining title fights, pugilists from the North can not get a break in their home town. Damaen Kelly put on a boxing clinic against Simone Maladrottu in a European title fight in Belfast back in 2006, only to lose a unanimous decision. One clown with a scorecard and a crayon gave him two rounds and a share of a third after he dominated the contest over the 36 minutes. I don’t know why foreign promoters don’t put lobby to get their charges to fight in Northern Ireland more often. Come to Belfast, and Bizarro-World will ensure you get to the Promised Land.

To me, Belfast is a boxing Mecca. The atmosphere is unrivalled, the fans as knowledgeable as anywhere on our globe. There is nowhere better to have a title fight. However, it seems in Belfast that referees and judges sometimes leave vital tools back in their hotel rooms come fight night, such as their cerebrums and temporal lobes.

Martin Rogan was getting beaten by Sam Sexton tonight. He was beaten to the punch at the vital time, he was hitting air through wild swings, and Sexton was fighting intelligently. No excuses. Referee Dave Parris however gave him no leeway whatsoever to fight his own fight. Stop doing this, quit doing that. Big Rogie, the darling of fight fans and media everywhere, was going to have to pull something out of the bag.

And pull it out he did. With Rogan’s eye grotesquely swollen like a sweet damson plum, he had to go for broke. He did just that. And had Sexton on the brink of stoppage in the eighth frenetic round, only for Parris to get in the way. Sexton was rocked by huge shots midway through the round, and retreated to the corner to take refuge. However, to paraphrase Joe Louis, there was nowhere to hide. All but gone, he turned his back as Rogan’s bombs were wading in. That should have been the end of proceedings.
Instead, Dave Parris chided Rogan for a rabbit punch, even though Sexton was looking out at the crowd through his own volition when it was thrown. He gained valuable seconds to recover. Rogan continued the assault, and Sexton went to the other corner dropping his hands. After spitting out his gum shield, he did a brief impression of Zab Judah’s infamous chicken dance and all but beckoned Parris to say he was done. Defending himself at all times, he was not.

Rogan, noble but dumb-as-a-box-of-frogs, beckoned to Parris to stop the fight instead of landing the money shot. Parris ignored him. Sexton, the sneaky SOB, landed a few unanswered shots back at Rogan when he realised the Big Man had stopped fighting and that Parris had no intention of doing his job properly. With 20 or so seconds left in the round, and merely moments after this bizarre turn of affairs, Parris summoned the doctor to look at Rogan’s eye. The doc had seen enough and the fight was waved off.
Fair enough, the referee need not look to the timekeeper to decide if a fighter needs saving…but why seconds after letting an opponent back into the fight who gave all the indications that he wanted out of there?

This is the same referee who let Marco Antonio Barrera spill rivers of blood for four rounds to allow Amir Khan get the nod on a technical decision in their fight last March.
If his compassion was questioned then, it must also be here for the wrong reasons. Martin Rogan was robbed tonight by an experienced referee who got it all wrong. Is there something more sinister at play? Probably not - just refereeing that positively stunk the joint out - but that doesn’t make it any better.

Come to Belfast if you want to win a title. Especially if you feel you can’t do it on your own. The Bizarro World will take care of it. Nice work, Dave.