The last time he tried to get his boxing license back, Joe Mesi's attorneys produced magnetic resonance images showing an uninjured brain and introduced testimony from brain-injury experts indicating that he's no more likely to get seriously injured, or even killed, in the ring than any other fighter.
That wasn't enough to convince the Nevada State Athletic Commission or its medical advisory board. Each body voted unanimously to preserve the ban that went into effect when it was revealed that Mesi suffered as many as three subdural hematomas during his last bout, a 10-round decision over Vassiliy Jirov in March of 2004. Since all states recognize any suspension by one, the Nevada decision halted his career.
Members of both groups expressed concern for Mesi's long-term well-being, particularly in light of the savage beating Jirov administered in the last four minutes of their bout. None, however, cited any study or other evidence to indicate Mesi would be in heightened danger if he returned.
Having lost even when armed with the evidence, his next bid instead hinges on the law and how one judge interprets it.
Mesi's legal team, which consists of high-profile Buffalo attorney Paul Cambria and Mesi's cousin and longtime lawyer, Julie Bargnese, is scheduled to make their case on Dec. 19 in Las Vegas before U.S. District Court Judge Douglas Herndon.
Their argument -- that the athletic commission violated Mesi's constitutional rights in maintaining the suspension -- rests on whether being allowed to punch and get punched for money is a right or a privilege.
Nevada officials argue that it's a privilege, one that can be revoked at the discretion of the athletic commission.
Mesi's team agrees with the privilege assessment -- until the license is granted. Then, they say, it becomes the property of the boxer and can only be revoked through due process, as dictated by the U.S. Constitution.
A driver's license is an apt analogy, if you agree with Mesi's lawyers. You have to prove yourself qualified to get one, but once you have it, the government can only take it away by following clearly outlined procedures and after giving you the opportunity to have your day in court.
The athletic commission and its medical advisory board, appointed by Nevada's governor, are an extension of the executive branch, not part of the judicial system. Granting them sole power over whether to allow someone to continue making a living in his or her chosen field constitutes a violation of due process, Cambria and Bargnese will argue.
It's a pretty sound case -- at least from a purely legal perspective, where they'll try to keep the judge's focus.
On the emotional side, there's the mental image of Mesi stumbling around the ring in the final round against Jirov, absorbing one horrific, neck-jerking shot after another, somehow managing to get off the floor twice and make it to the final bell.
The last round of a more recent fight lingers over Mesi's case. Leavander Johnson, the International Boxing Federation's lightweight champion, took more than a dozen straight punches to the head from Jesus Chavez before referee Steve Weeks finally stopped the fight.
Johnson, who told the ringside doctor he wasn't hurt before the final round and said ÒI'm OKÓ to Weeks after the stoppage, underwent emergency brain surgery less than an hour after the fight ended. His brain swelled during surgery and after five days in an induced coma, he died on Sept. 22.
Johnson's was the second ring death in Nevada this year. Mexican super featherweight Martin Sanchez died the day after being knocked out in the ninth round by Rustam Nugaev on July 1.
The two deaths triggered the usual political firestorm, with Arizona Sen. John McCain introducing a bill to create a national boxing commission. That never got out of the House of Representatives, though McCain figures to continue trumpeting one of his pet causes as the 2008 presidential campaign draws closer. A state investigation into ring safety, decried by critics as another political ploy, is also underway.
Dr. Margaret Goodman, the doctor who spoke with Johnson before the fatal round and allowed the fight to continue, resigned as a ringside physician last month to push for an investigation into his death and safety conditions in general. She's also the chairwoman of the athletic commission's advisory board.
ÒWe want our case to be tried on its own merits and facts,Ó Jack Mesi, Joe's father and manager, told the Niagara Falls Reporter after the trial date was announced. ÒWhat happened to other fighters shouldn't have any bearing on his case.Ó
Legally, he's right. It's impossible to know what damage Johnson, who had been stopped in three of his previous four defeats and fought 42 times during a 16-year pro career, might have sustained before climbing into the ring on Sept. 17.
Sanchez's background was murkier -- boxrec.com lists his record as 13-9, with five stoppage defeats, and his age at death as 26, but shows him in his first pro fight on Jan. 5, 1990, when he would have been only 10 years old. Whether the judge -- who was appointed to his post earlier this year by Nevada Gov. Kenny Guinn, who also appointed all the members of the athletic commission and advisory panel -- can ignore the political sideshow and focus on the specifics of Mesi's case may well determine the outcome.
From such a coldly objective perspective, which you'd like to think all judges maintain in all cases, it's hard to argue with Mesi's assertions.
Common sense might hint that one brain bleed makes another more likely, but the athletic commission has yet to offer any evidence to back that assumption.
Of course, such evidence would be pretty hard to come by, since fighters who suffer a subdural hematoma are no longer allowed to fight -- if an athletic commission finds out about it. And if a fighter dies in the ring, there's no sure way of knowing if the fatal bleed was his first or his 13th.
Herndon's ruling -- which may not come until weeks after the trial, which Mesi's camp expects to last one day -- probably won't be the last word in the case. Mesi, his father and his attorney have indicated that they'll fight to get his license back until every legal avenue is exhausted, meaning a likely appeal if the judge upholds the suspension.
The state doesn't figure to just give up if Mesi prevails, either. Boxing is an enormous revenue generator for Nevada, which hosts nearly every huge-money fight in the United States, and an athletic commission populated largely by political appointees isn't going to graciously cede control of the sport. That's particularly true if it means the possibility of a fighter suspended for medical reasons getting hurt, or worse, in a subsequent fight.
The sport also provided Mesi with his living. His last three fights were on HBO and he was on the fast track to a shot at one of the heavyweight titles and pay-per-view riches amid a dearth of quality, or even interesting, big men. While he's been sidelined, one fighter he knocked out in the first round, DaVarryl Williamson, received a shot at a world title belt, while another man he beat, Monte Barrett, fought for an interim crown.
Whether Mesi, whose record remains frozen at 29 wins, zero losses and 25 victories by way of knockout, could regain the lofty status he achieved before his suspension, particularly after a layoff of nearly two years, is open to debate.
And if Nevada officials have their way, a point of discussion is all it ever will be.
| Niagara Falls Reporter | www.niagarafallsreporter.com | Dec. 13 2005 |