ST. LOUIS — It's impossible to watch a boxing match without shadow boxing.
We've all been there. The fighters have engaged in a sparring session for a few rounds, but one suddenly lands a huge shot and changes the entire fight. A jaw gets rocked, and your body, in turn, rocks back and forth in the chair. You grab the shoulder of your friend, release the limb, and rise to your feet. You throw a few oxygen-slicing jabs, duck your head, and bob to the right. A fight has broken out across the country, but it's getting heated in your living room.
That's boxing. The original combat sports delight for home entertainment that still holds the high class and supreme respect of the fighting community.
The first fight I ever watched on HBO Boxing was between Sugar Ray Leonard and Marvin Hagler in 1987. I was five years old. The two fighters pounded each other into submission over 15 amazing rounds. I looked at my dad and asked him how human beings could endure such punishment, and instead of running and hiding, stand there and fire back. It was amazing. The decision goes down as one of the most arguably and controversial in the history of the sport, and that's what makes boxing great. You could flip a coin with people in deciding who got the better of the other that night.
For me, it was my introduction into the sport, like being born in a crossfire hurricane of blood, sweat, and tears. Two men, standing in front of each other, putting it all on the line, and refusing to give in. Pride, confidence, fear, inner demons, strength, endurance, guts, glory, and doubters staring them down like internal judges before and after every round.
As Jim Lampley once famously said, "you don't play boxing...you stand and fight." A sport unlike any other. Armed with only your fists and ready to put everything on the line versus another human with the same goal and stakes. It doesn't get any better. It will never get any better than HBO Boxing.
After 45 years, 865 fighters, 1,116 fights, and 9,447 rounds, HBO is turning off the lights and breaking down its ring. Saturday's card was the final one. That is it. The gloves will be hung up, and the legendary HBO banner that has hung over so many fights, both real and fictional, will come down. It will be folded up and put away in a vault along with thousands of memories. Knockdowns, last minute right hooks, comebacks, shocking defeats, and countless tests of the human spirit.
The network that introduced and featured the likes of Leonard, Muhammad Ali, Joe Frazier, George Foreman, Mike Tyson, Arturo Gatti, Mickey Ward, Evander Holyfield, Riddick Bowe, Oscar De La Hoya, Roy Jones Jr., Floyd Mayweather Jr., Manny Pacquaio, Canelo Alvarez, Gennady Golovkin, and most recently, Vasyl Lomachenko, is finished with boxing.
There's no doubt politics, ego, financial stability, competition, and future worth played a part in this sudden demise. It's way above my pay grade and willingness to understand to provide you with a thorough breakdown of why HBO won't put on fights next week or in 2019. I don't know all the details, and honestly, have no intention of digging up leads or knocking down internet doors. It would be a lot of hard work for someone to tell me succinctly, "it's a business decision." Boom. That's probably it.
Here's what I'll do instead: remember the legends. The greatness that I saw. My dad and I on the edge of our seats, letting out large wails that sounded like a gorilla getting pinched in his sleep, "OHHH!" We'd look at each other and wonder if there had been a better fight. If it was a close decision, there would be a debate. He threw more punches, but the other guy landed more power shots. Sports discussions are like fights, but there is no winner and no clear set of rounds. Just an endless wordplay that goes on until a head runs out of oxygen. I will miss those happening after an HBO card.
With no offense to Showtime, ESPN Boxing, or the new streaming device, DAZN, they pale in comparison to HBO. Call it a unique blend of nostalgia or favoritism, but it's true. I like HBO better, and that will never change.
It goes deeper than the fights. I will miss Liev Schreiber's voice anchoring 24/7 features on two fighters leading up to a pay-per-view event, a behind the scenes experience unlike any other. Schreiber turning normal words into poetic bouts of fury, making a sport seem like wicked theater. While he will do other HBO Sports features, the actor found a niche with the boxing shows on HBO.
I'll miss seeing Pacquiao and his trainer, Freddie Roach, train for a fight and bond as human beings from two completely different backgrounds, united through a mutual love for a sport. I'll miss seeing Miguel Cotto weep over the death of his father, pledging vengeance on Antonio Margarito. I'll even miss Mayweather Jr. fulfilling all of his promises and backing up every word. Golovkin at Big Bear flashing that thousand-watt smile. Canelo's playfulness behind the scenes.
Once upon a time, I told everyone I knew that Holyfield would beat Tyson in their first fight. I just knew it. "The Real Deal" had an ironclad jaw and could hit almost as hard as Iron Mike. When it happened on HBO Boxing, I felt like a magician who knew something. It lit me up for an entire week.
Unlike other sports, boxing is quick (an entire fight lasts over an hour, but could be over in less than five minutes) and connects easily on an emotional level. You can't point at anyone in a room and know they can't fire a slapshot on net or throw a baseball 90 miles-per-hour into a catcher's mitt. However, you can point at the person to your left or right, and know if push came to shove over the right reasons, they could fight or at least make a fist and defend themselves.
Everyone could do it, but only a certain amount could do it at a high level. I watched all of them on HBO. Gatti and Ward standing toe-to-toe like unbreakable mountains for entire fights. Pacquiao destroying De La Hoya's face and getting destroyed by a Juan Manuel Marquez right hand. All of it happened on one network.
I'll miss the postfight blunt doses of honesty from Max Kellerman when he interviewed fighters who had just spent several rounds throwing punches and getting punched. He asked them anything and everything, never batting an eye from the right question. Kellerman stood there and dished like a weary middleweight. He's simply the best.
The last HBO boxing fight I loved was Alvarez-Golovkin II. A great fight with a decision that I didn't agree with, but watched twice and wanted more in the end. I couldn't get enough.
There will be more boxing. There will not be more HBO Boxing. That is over. I'm sad.
Here's what I'm not sad about: all the fights I watched with my dad, good friend Chris McHugh, and other friends. There were nights where I didn't like company, but loved the fights, even thinking of throwing a few punches of my own.
Boxing can do that to you. It will pull you out of your seat after a long day and bring out the ferocity that had hunkered down in your soul.
Every true boxing fan shadow boxes during a fight. I did it when I was five years old. I still do it as a 36-year-old.
Thanks for bringing that into my life, HBO. You'll always have me as a fan because of that blind date.
