His most cynical critic couldn't leave HSBC Arena Saturday night without being impressed by Joe Mesi's blitzkrieg of DaVarryl Williamson.
But even the unbeaten Tonawanda heavyweight's staunchest supporters couldn't be sure of just how impressed they should be.
Fights that last 97 seconds are like that. Was the winner that overwhelming, or the loser completely overwhelmed?
When Mesi dispatched Robert Davis in 80 seconds in the same arena three months ago, some used words like "stiff," "bum" and "barely breathing" to describe the victim. Nothing about the resume Williamson brought to the ring Saturday conjures the same descriptions.
This was a guy who had won 15 straight fights, the last half-dozen against opposition roughly equivalent to what Mesi faced over the same time frame. He didn't lack for motivation, either. At 35, Williamson knew this was his first, and most likely only, chance to reach the upper echelon of the heavyweight division.
As for the conspiracy theorists who believe that every one-sided fight carries a bad smell, Williamson made $175,000 for his appearance on Saturday. It's difficult to imagine even the most devoted fixer coming up with enough green to convince a fighter making that kind of coin to call it an early night.
Anyone retaining any lingering doubts about what happened inside HSBC Arena at the stroke of midnight should just go to the videotape. That shows as decisive a knockout as you'll ever see, the ideal capper to the biggest evening in the area's evolving boxing history.
The people who attend boxing matches constitute as much of the show as the fighters themselves.
It wasn't a Las Vegas gathering, with a sweeping camera shot of ringside revealing the likes of Sylvester Stallone, Donald Trump and DMX interspersed by nearly identically pneumatic blondes. But it was still an interesting tableau.
For those unsure of what to wear to a big fight, black-on-black ensembles seem to be the standard. Given the enrollment drop in La Cosa Nostra over the last few decades, the ratio of actual mobsters to over-enthusiastic wannabes was most likely pretty low. But that doesn't mean there weren't an awful lot of young and middle-aged men trying their best.
Most of the posers were in the cheaper seats, a dead giveaway. Folding chairs near ringside went for up to $250, with quite a few familiar faces occupying them.
Billy Fuccillo, star of advertisements for his eponymous Grand Island car dealership, heard shouts of "Huuuuge" as he looked for his ringside seat a few rows in front of Falls businessman Jerry Williams and longtime Albany politico Gary Parenti.
Real estate maven and Main Street activist Mike Hooper was on hand, as was Niagara Falls Redevelopment Vice President Roger Trevino.
City Council candidate Babe Rotella got plenty of HBO face time while serving as the New York State Athletic Commission's observer in San Samil Sam's corner during the first televised bout.
The most interesting out-of-ring scene came during Juan Carlos Gomez's unanimous decision win over Sam.
New Sabres owner Tom Golisano made his way to a ringside seat, followed by the sort of entourage that usually trails the very wealthy, including former Erie County Democratic Chairman Steve Pigeon and mayoral hopeful Byron Brown. Golisano, of course, chose his seat first while members of his entourage tried to elbow themselves into adjacent chairs.
With the first two televised fights going the distance, the crowd of between 13,000 and 15,000 -- depending on who was doing the counting -- amused itself with diversions like the ring-card girls.
A strip joint near the airport named "Rick's Tally Ho" provided the card-carriers. Advertising an establishment with the word "Ho" in the title as a "sophisticated gentlemen's club" probably deserves its own analysis. It should be noted, however, that the young women carried cards bearing the correct round numbers right-side up with nary a mishap, save a single broken heel.
A brewing brawl between two patrons in the 100-level seats distracted a hefty portion of the ringsiders during Dominick Guinn's domination of Duncan Dokiwari.
Seems one fan had said or done something to, or looked askance at, the other. This led to incessant jawing and the eventual intervention of security guards. Nothing came of it, much to the visible annoyance of dozens of men who watched, transfixed, from seats for which they paid $250.
Saturday night's promotion was billed as the "Night of Young Heavyweights," which was edited to "Night of the Next Generation of Heavyweights" after it was pointed out that the six punchers averaged 30 years of age.
But if this was the best the division has to offer in the next few years, somebody had better start looking for some new young heavyweights.
Gomez (37-0, 31 KOs) and Guinn (23-0, 17 KOs) won the first two fights in similar fashion, with each outboxing bigger, slower, less stylish sluggers.
Gomez scored a flash knockdown in the first round when he tagged an advancing Sam with a counter left hook and a straight right. Sam was up by the count of three, but while he landed the heavier punches the rest of the way, was unable to string them together often enough to hurt Gomez.
The Cuban native threw many more punches -- the second-most ever recorded in a 10-round heavyweight fight by CompuBox. But most of them were of the light flurrying variety and none seemed to have much impact on Sam after the first round.
Each round followed a similar storyline -- Sam stalking and launching the occasional power shot while the southpaw Gomez danced, jabbed and pushed ineffectual straight lefts.
The three judges favored Gomez by 98-91, 99-90 and 97-92. The Niagara Falls Reporter had it a touch closer at 96-93.
While Gomez-Sam offered an interesting tactical matchup and a fair amount of action, Guinn-Dokiwari had the feel of a sparring session.
The much larger Dokiwari (22-2, 19 KOs) rarely threw more than one punch at a time, with the quicker, more technically skilled Guinn keeping the Nigerian native off balance throughout.
And once Guinn opened a cut over Dokiwari's left eye, the bigger man spent more time pawing at the wound with his glove than launching punches at Guinn.
Guinn launched himself into the heavyweight consciousness with a seven-round annihilation of former contender Michael Grant, once considered a potential Mesi foe, in June. Guinn was effectively cautious throughout. He never had Dokiwari in serious trouble until the end, when he unveiled his full arsenal over the final 30 seconds.
The judges scored it 97-93, 98-92 and 97-93 for Guinn. The Reporter scored it 99-91.
One thing seemed certain leading up to Mesi's clash with his former amateur teammate -- this one would last longer than the introductions.
It didn't come close, even though Team Mesi and promoter Tony Holden pared down the extravagance displayed before the Davis knockout. At least a little.
There were still pyrotechnic geysers erupting to the strains of "Thunderstruck," though the AC/DC standard only played through once this time around. And instead of shadow-boxing behind a translucent sheet, Mesi entered public view through the bottom of an 80-foot banner bearing his likeness under the word "Believe."
Once the rest of the entourage pierced the banner, though, no one seemed quite sure how to get to ringside from the second deck of seats.
Mesi himself ultimately found the way. Once he got into the ring, there was no such confusion.
Ring announcer Michael Buffer issued his trademark "Let's get ready to rumble" at 11:57 p.m. At 12:01 a.m., medics entered the ring with a stretcher to retrieve Williamson.
After a few cursory moments of circling and jabbing, Mesi threw a left hook. It landed flush, and the end was beginning.
Williamson's vaunted right hand earned him the nickname "Touch of Sleep." He threw it once before it was too late, missing badly on that solitary occasion.
A powerful right from Mesi visibly hurt Williamson about a minute into the opening round. From that point, the 35-year-old Williamson looked like an amateur, throwing punches with only his shoulders and elbows, looking like the live-action version of a Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robot.
Sensing that his prey could no longer hurt him, Mesi dispensed with whatever game plan he had formulated and launched nothing but left hooks and right crosses. Another right sent Williamson wobbling, and a brutal left deposited him on the canvas.
Williamson remained there well after Team Mesi's post-fight celebration subsided, most likely returning to his job selling Mexican food products for a Denver company on a full-time basis.
For Mesi, the talk immediately turned to the next fight. Much of the speculation centered on three former champions -- Mike Tyson, Evander Holyfield and Hasim Rahman. In a sad commentary on the state of the heavyweights, none of the three -- the division's biggest names after Lennox Lewis -- have won a meaningful fight against a quality heavyweight in years, other than Holyfield's fluky technical decision over Rahman in June 2002.
But, in boxing, a name usually proves more important than ability, and Holyfield and his next opponent, puffed-up former middleweight James Toney, were both at ringside, pushing for the winner of their Oct. 4 bout to get the next shot at Mesi.
An unspoken hope of the evening's promoters was to see a future foe emerge from the undercard.
Both Gomez and Guinn showed chins that would almost surely last them longer than a minute-and-a-half, but both are smaller heavyweights than Mesi, and neither carries the sort of name recognition outside of boxing circles that would make fighting them now worth the risk.
Whatever Team Mesi's next move, it's tough to imagine a more impressive outcome than Saturday's.
| Niagara Falls Reporter | www.niagarafallsreporter.com | September 30 2003 |