THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Thursday, September 29, 1994 TAG: 9409290587
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C1 EDITION: FINAL
LENGTH: Medium: 71 lines
Your average pre-fight press conference makes a Shriners convention look like a gathering of Nobel Prize winners.
Though it was relatively tame, and more than a little lame, Wednesday's hype session at the Norfolk Omni Hotel for the Sweetpea Whitaker-Buddy McGirt title bout lived up to the tradition.
The crowning moment of clownishness featured a painfully choreographed scene in which Lou Duva, Whitaker's manager, stuck a pie in the face of a willing Al Certo, McGirt's man.
I was grateful to the cartoon managers for reminding me where I was. And where boxing is and always has been.
``This is the biggest fight in the state of Virginia,'' Dan Duva, Whitaker's promoter said, ``since the Civil War.''
Whitaker-McGirt as big as North vs. South?
Maybe even bigger than North vs. Robb.
``It doesn't get any better than this in professional boxing,'' Dan Duva promised.
Just in case he's right, millions will be watching on HBO on Saturday night. A national media will report ringside on Whitaker's welterweight title defense. Our community may even rouse itself and sell out Scope.
I've been assured that this scenario makes the fight the greatest sporting event ever held in Hampton Roads.
The competition for this honor is too embarrassingly slim to mention. It doesn't change one thing, though. We have Whitaker, our only major league franchise, to thank for this area's brush with the big time.
In the parallel universe in which boxing operates, the Whitaker and McGirt uncivil war could be everything the flacks say it is. Or it could turn out to be nothing more than another Bull Run, bull being the operative word.
Here's the truth of it: Saturday's fight can only be memorable if Whitaker loses.
Only the drama of a champ getting stripped of his title in his hometown can take this fight to the next level.
If, as expected, Sweetpea wins, the fight is written off as just another stop at the cashier's window for Mr. Pound-for-Pound.
It goes down as just another healthy payday, this one worth about $2.5 million. Another appearance on cable. Another job well done.
If Whitaker wins, the night ends with another overmatched opponent muttering that Sweetpea never hurt him. We've seen it before, heard it a million times.
Whitaker has already outpointed McGirt once, in Madison Square Garden. That McGirt fought that night with a bad arm is something that interests boxing cognoscenti and nobody else.
McGirt is completely healthy now, which should ensure a tough bout and reduce excuses.
It does not guarantee a spectacular fight, however.
The styles of Whitaker and McGirt, canny counterpunchers, may be too similar to produce riveting theater. When they fought in New York 19 months ago, the city that never sleeps snoozed contentedly.
Asked about Whitaker, McGirt said Wednesday, ``He's a good defensive fighter. He slips punches.''
Certo, whipped cream in his hair and on his shirt, added: ``And he shakes his ass pretty good.''
Cartoon managers who mousse their hair with Cool Whip may still try to portray Whitaker as a guy who won't stand his ground and fight, but the criticism hasn't stuck for quite some time. Certainly not since Sweetpea went toe-to-toe with Julio Cesar Chavez.
Moments before, as he was toweling the pie from his eyes, Certo said to Duva: ``That's the only punch you guys will land this week.''
Not the only. Just the softest. by CNB