Before Thursday’s Fight Night at the Tank event in San Jose, all
I really knew about boxing was that there was a very good chance I
would get splattered with a liquid concoction of sweat, spit and
possibly blood sitting at my ringside press seat.
Before Thursday’s Fight Night at the Tank event in San Jose, all I really knew about boxing was that there was a very good chance I would get splattered with a liquid concoction of sweat, spit and possibly blood sitting at my ringside press seat.
That should have grossed me out, but it didn’t.
Since I arrived in the south Bay, I’ve really wanted to see our two local boxing sensations Robert Guerrero and Kelsey Jeffries in action.
Thursday’s Fight Night, which featured Jeffries against “Downtown” Leona Brown in the semi-main event at HP Pavilion, was my chance to see Jeffries and live boxing for the very first time.
I’ll come clean, I have a history of being a boxing skeptic. I thought the reality of the sport was just too brutal with all the physical damage it causes. It’s hard to rationally justify a sport that boils down to two people hitting each other. However, I have always wanted to learn how to box. Why? Because it is by all accounts one of the most physically challenging and difficult sports.
But also, knowing how to box automatically qualifies you as tough.
So I arrived at the Tank with an open mind – and wearing a close-to-red colored shirt. I didn’t mind getting spattered with blood, but I wasn’t about to ruin a shirt. I took my ringside seat in press row, close enough to touch the canvas. Too bad the company laptop computer is white, I thought.
The pre-fight festivities were interesting. Of course, the Miller Lite Knockouts ring card girls, clad in not-so-modest turquoise bikinis and occasional silicon accessories, had to be introduced. I don’t want to judge these women, but you can’t help but wonder exactly how someone gets a job doing that.
As the opening bout, fighters Rene Aguaristi and Mauricio Grajeda were announced by of course, a guy in a tuxedo, I realized I love the hype and sometimes smarminess that surrounds boxing. Every other sport acts like it’s honest and pure all the way around (see Major League Baseball) when we all know different. Meanwhile, you have boxing which comes right out with the unabashed self-promotion. The staredowns begin between the two boxers, as do other intimidation tactics such as smiling, fist pumping and jumping up and down. I appreciate the honesty. And it’s damn entertaining.
As I waited for the fight to begin, I wondered how I was going to take watching, from close quarters, someone getting clocked. It’s one thing to watch a fight on television. It’s certainly another to see it live. And ringside? That’s a whole other world. I could actually see the Vaseline caked on the fighters’ eyebrows.
Then it came, the first blood. In the fourth round, Aguaristi landed a hit to Grajeda’s upper left forehead.
I literally saw a 2-inch laceration in Grajeda’s head part like a fault line and blood start pouring out.
That was hard to watch, but that was the worst of what I saw. Call me naive, but I was expecting to see jarring hits abound in these matches. But boxing, or at least what I saw, is rarely like that. It’s more like watching each fighter chip away at the other like a block of ice, slowly wearing him or her down. It makes me better understand boxing as the sweet science.
Later in the night, Jeffries made me a huge fan. The Ali’i Warrior of the South Bay was a crowd favorite the moment she came out of the smoking tunnel at the Pavilion with her soldier escorts from the Army (her new sponsor) and was by far the most personable fighter out there. After winning the match by unanimous decision, she took the time to throw t-shirts to the crowd and sign autographs upstairs.
She also made me believe in women’s boxing. I had heard mostly bad reviews of the sport. But Jeffries looked quick, strong and as tactically polished as any of the men. Granted, Jeffries definitely outmatched the 4’11” Brown from the get-go. Still, Brown got in a few solid shots – one of them a head butt. But Jeffries focus? Didn’t break once.
As I gathered my things and got ready to leave the arena, the writer next to me pointed to my program. “You’ve got a DNA sample there.”
Sure enough, there was a single drop of blood on my program, the perfect souvenir from my first match.
Boxing, you’ve got a new fan.
Ana Patejdl is a sports writer for South Valley Newspapers. Email her at [email protected]
