When Joe Cortez stopped the combat, even Haugen should have felt like issues have been of their proper place. He took on the function of villain with Chavez, years earlier than the match even, and for the 2 fighters and the record-setting crowd in Mexico Metropolis, there was one way or the other extra on the road than simply the WBC tremendous light-weight title. If Haugen had crushed Chavez it might have solely put extra poison within the veins. The unhealthy man simply has to get it in the long run, not just for us, however for him too. To humble him and provides him an opportunity at redemption.
Greg Haugen obtained his begin in Nevada, combating in bars, “Powerful Man” competitions. He’d tackle guys generally 70 kilos heavier, knock all of them down. Within the bar, the angle performed nicely. The ladies favored it and it psyched out these large sonsofbitches. They couldn’t determine why the little man was speaking a lot, why he wasn’t scared. However professional boxing is an entire completely different world, and the lads you meet aren’t at all times as forgiving because the Nevada brawlers who crack one another’s skulls after which have a drink collectively afterwards.
In Las Vegas, round 1990, Haugen watches a proud Mexican fighter coaching for an upcoming bout. Haugen tells the fighter the blokes he’s sparring with are nothing however “younger little ladies with clothes on.” Says he’d spar with him without spending a dime, assist him out, train him one thing. The fighter he’s speaking to is Julio Cesar Chavez, in any other case referred to as “The Lion of Culiacán,” “Mr. KO.” He’s undefeated, a world champion, and Haugen’s brash phrases don’t sit very nicely. When requested about Haugen later, Chavez remembered: “I hated him from that second.”
A number of years go and Haugen is the WBC’s #2 contender, locked in to combat Chavez for the belt. When requested if he’s intimidated by the champion’s excellent 82-0 report, Haugen offers a cocky smile. “The way in which I see it,” he says, “sixty of the blokes he fought have been simply Tijuana cab drivers that my mom might have knocked out … I’m not taking him mild however I’m not taking him as unbeatable both …” Does Haugen have any misgivings concerning the combat happening in Mexico Metropolis in entrance of 130,000 of Chavez’s countrymen? “There ain’t 130,000 Mexicans that may afford to purchase tickets,” cracks Haugen.
Now Chavez loves his nation. In ’87, the Puerto Rican champ Edwin Rosario made some disparaging feedback concerning the Mexican individuals, and even said he would ship Chavez again there in a coffin. Chavez put a cruel beating on Rosario that ended with a TKO in spherical 11 and Rosario was by no means fairly the identical ever after. When he hears Haugen’s feedback, Chavez as soon as once more has the fireplace burning. “I actually hate him unhealthy,” he says. “When he appears at me, I wish to vomit. I’m going to provide him the worst beating of his life. I’m going to make him swallow the phrases that got here out of his soiled mouth.”
February 20, 1993. Azteca Stadium, Mexico Metropolis. Attendance is estimated at 136,000, making it the most important crowd for a combat ever, anyplace. The stadium pulses, our bodies shifting collectively in waves. 1000’s of police flow into with uzis, vicious canine. Within the heart of the stadium, across the ring, is a large moat fenced with barbed wire.
Haugen enters to Springsteen’s “Born in the united statesA.” and carrying the American flag. Ripples within the stadium, the group seething. Referee Cortez brings the fighters to the middle of the ring. Chavez refuses to the touch gloves and the multitude roars in approval.
The bell rings, Chavez’s engine begins to whir. He lets Haugen get a pair jabs off earlier than smashing the American with a straight proper, then clack clack, two extra rifle-shot rights and Haugen is down, simply 25 seconds in. The group booming, “Mexico! Mexico! Julio! Julio!” Haugen takes some extra from Chavez earlier than the spherical ends and goes again to his nook with blood streaming from his nostril.
The following two rounds, Chavez works on Haugen’s physique. Slamming him within the intestine, even some low photographs for good measure. This can be a schoolyard; it is a lesson. The ref doesn’t see, or doesn’t say. The fourth is far of the identical. Haugen can’t compete with the facility of Chavez. He tries to maintain the champion at a distance, however when he does he’s compelled to eat a gentle weight loss plan of straight proper arms.
Fifth spherical, large spherical. That straight proper once more and Haugen is on the ropes. Does he realize it’s coming? In some unusual manner, does he need it to come back? 130,000 individuals round him, calling for his blood. Wouldn’t it not really feel sickly satisfying to provide it to them? Julio is enjoying with him, strolling him across the ring, staying on the excellent distance to maintain touchdown the appropriate. Haugen is dazed, fading. Julio strikes in with a combo that works each the physique and head and Haugen goes down once more.
He will get up, however he isn’t throwing punches anymore. Chavez simply doling out the punishment, talking to him together with his fists, making him reply for the shit he’d stated. Joe Cortez lastly steps in, stops it, and the group erupts. It’s lovely, it’s storybook. Chavez, “El Gran Campeon de Mexico,” efficiently defends each himself and his nation in opposition to the boorish American. It couldn’t have gone some other manner, it’s the one ending …
And of the Tijuana cab drivers Haugen talked about? After, Haugen relented: “They should have been powerful taxi drivers.” — David Como
