Okay, I admit it, I’m a boxing fan. Not that I enjoy watching grown men and women pummel each other’s faces into unrecognition, per se; next to making up words, observing the ritualized human drama of mano a mano (hand to hand, not man to man) competition play out in the structured, regulated and supervised environment of the boxing ring is just plain fun. More honest than wrestling, grittier, more real and less time consuming than a soap opera, and minus the gratuitous sex, boxing is a curious, yet entertaining mix of theater and thuggery. I like it.
It’s a simple sport; there are only four kinds of punches; jab, hook, uppercut, and straight right (or left, depending upon whether the boxer is a right-hander or southpaw.) While boxers are required to be matched according to weight, the best fights feature fighters of comparable experience and skill. Since the rules are basic, (don’t try to kill your opponent, don’t bring anything into the ring to hit him with, like a bat, don’t hit him in the nuts) and those that aren’t standard are negotiable per fight, the most crucial element, in any match, is style.
Again, we’re talking simplicity simplified, here. There are three basic styles of fighter, imho; “boxers,” guys not concerned with knockouts, content to win on points, primarily throwing flicking, annoying jabs in an attempt to keep the other guy preoccupied to the point that he can’t mount an offense of his own. Boxers are skilled at defense, bobbing, weaving, dancing out of the way of punches, all the while sticking their fists in the face of their opponent, but not really trying to hurt him, either, often because they know they can’t. In fact, boxers don’t want anybody to get hurt, least of all themselves, if they can “hit, without being hit” they’re happy. It’s even likely that boxers can’t “take a punch,” that’s the reason they’re “boxers,” not “fighters.” While they may be considered textbook technicians and strategists, and their showy “flash and dash” can delight casual boxing observers, they are pretty much despised by purists and real fans alike, who prefer their champions be a little more rugged, willing to “mix it up” once in a while, and not prissy, wussy, light punching “rabbits.”
Then there are the “punchers.” These guys are one-half step up from Neanderthal; they want to hit, and hit hard, anywhere, face, body, doesn’t matter; if they hit you, you’ll be hurt. They often have no defense at all, they don’t need it since they seem to not only be impervious to pain, they enjoy it. They’re usually not fond of the jab, might not even know how to throw one, the hook, uppercut, right hand, and whatever punch they make up at the spur of the moment in the heat of battle is just fine, thank you,very much. “Throw hard with bad intentions,” if you miss, do it again. “He can run, but he can’t hide,” at some point in the match, the “boxer” is going to run out of real estate, energy, or both, then the “puncher” will hit him with the force of a sledgehammer, and the fight will be over. Whatever punishment is inflicted or received before that is irrelevant. That is how a puncher “thinks,” that is how he wins, that is how he plans to win.
The style most fans and purists prize most is a combination of the two former ones, the “boxer/puncher.” This guy knows how to avoid being hit, but if he is, he’s perfectly capable of “shaking it off,” and coming out swinging. He’s not intimidated by a “puncher,” he can take it, plus, he’s got a fair bit of power in his own hands. A “boxer” poses no problem for the “boxer/puncher” either, he’s just as skilled both defensively and with the jab, and his is more stinging than annoying. Also, his “power punches” are often just as devastating as a pure “puncher.” He’s a thinking man’s fighter, possessing a wide array of skills, he can formulate a strategy to exploit just about any other fighter’s weaknesses, nullify his strengths, and effectively counter with his own. This is the guy fans and purists love, and opponents fear.
Politically, Barack Obama is a “boxer.” Since fans enjoy watching the “sweet science,” his ability to avoid trouble has been more than enough, so far. His flashy “bob and weave” technique is fun to watch; the trouble is, he hasn’t yet been really hit. Until now.
Rod Blagojevich is a “puncher.” In fact, he’s a street brawler with gloves on. “Style, shmyle, let’s get it on” is his motto. His blunt, brash, no-nonsense, “whaddya got, whaddaya want?” approach has always gotten him into trouble, and has been easy for Obama to nullify in the past, all the while playing to the crowd, showing off his political dancing skills, and avoiding the clinches. In fact, when Obama, knowing Blago came into the ring already bloodied by the investigation into his bludgeoning style, employed his “juke and jive” technique of peppering Blago with jabs by dangling Valerie Jarrett as a potential successor for his vacant Senate seat, then snatching her from contention before abruptly making his resignation official, effectively maneuvered Blago into the corner right before he got hit with the right hand of arrest, it looked like Obama might be a boxer/puncher after all. Thinking he had delivered a knockout from the accumulation of punches, followed by the impeachment blow to the gut, and that his opponent was headed out of the ring on a stretcher, Obama allowed himself a brief, poor man’s impression of the Ali shuffle as victory dance.
And got sucker punched.
Hot Rod lunged off the canvas and caught Obama with a head ringing blow just barely above the belt by appointing Roland Burris to Obie’s seat in defiance of just about everybody. Obama’s supporters, who were heading for the exits, his cornermen, who were headed into the ring, forgot to wait for the count of ten. All seemed stunned, both that Blags had it in him, and that Obama wasn’t invincible, after all. Hadn’t Blago heard them declare him dead in one voice? Didn’t he know he had lost every round on the scorecards? How did he muster the strength to get up off the floor and throw a haymaker? They know the game, and they know that wasn’t a lucky punch. That was boxing. How come Obama the “boxer” didn’t see it coming and get out of the way? How come the ref didn’t stop the fight? And more importantly, what do they do now?
Right now, the bell has rung between rounds and the Obama team, with the help of the ref and the timekeeper, are trying to keep their guy on the stool until his cobwebs clear, and they can come up with a winning scenario even the cynical boxing/political public will buy. They’re also kicking themselves for forgetting that pure “boxing” doesn’t always win fights, for not considering that their guy might have a glass jaw, and for not knowing that a “puncher” who can “box” will beat even a “boxer/puncher” every time. Sometimes, with just one punch. That’s why, when you beat a guy down, it’s best for all concerned to finish him off.
That is, if you can.
*Note: I wrote this post a couple of days ago, but was reluctant to post it here for fear that the subject matter might not be everybody’s cuppa. But in light of the Chicago Tribune revelation that Rod Blagojeveich was indeed once a boxer, I figured it might now be appropriate. Interestingly, by stressing his preoccupation with his hair, and his tendency to keep his hands over his face in the ring, the Tribune writer deliberately attempts to portray Blago as a vainglorious wimp without providing any substantiation, like, say, his Golden Glove record. I seem to remember Muhammad Ali combing his hair in the ring after every fight, and being criticized for not keeping his hands up, but overall, people seem to think he was a pretty good boxer in his day.
Filed under: General | Tagged: boxing, Patrick Fitzgerald, PUMA, rahm emanuel, rod blagojevich, Roland Burris, Valerie Jarrett, Willie Brown | 66 Comments »