Sugar Shane Still Sweet in a Clash of Contrasts
 By Luke Dodemaide (March 2, 2006)
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As Sugar Shane Mosley sits at the pre-fight press conference, he only needs to turn his head ninety degrees to see the embodiment of an attitude one hundred and eighty degrees from his own. ‘Ferocious’ Fernando Vargas is busting at the seams to exemplify the manifestation of macho morals that has driven his career both inside and outside of the ropes. Attempting his routine pre-fight intimidation, Vargas stares down Mosley, who doesn’t intend to escalate the situation, but at the same time will not look away. Mosley plays Vargas’ games more as a thespian than a fighter, then sits back down and bursts into a smile while his foe can only snarl. In these moments Shane Mosley is more Sugar than ever before. He is well dressed, cool and composed, the stammer that was evident in his younger days is now nowhere to be seen as he speaks of his fight strategy with all the eloquence that a politician does his political campaign. In boxing ‘Sugar’ isn’t just a style, nor a status, but an attitude and win, lose or draw, Mosley has done his two predecessors – Ray Robinson and Ray Leonard – proud.
Fernando Vargas has often been described as a warrior, a fighter’s fighter, a throwback, but here in Shane’s composure he echoes the past much more distinctively – yet more discreetly – than any stereotypical ‘El Ferocious’ display ever could. It’s as obvious outside of the ring as it becomes inside that this is a clash of contrasts; it pits together a slugger and sweet scientist. It is scripts such as these which the sport thrives on. With two men, a ring, a referee, thousands of cameras and millions of eyes, boxing is the original reality television entertainment. Though this pay-per-view will never gather the ratings or acclaim of an American Idol or a Survivor, the fight captures the kind of drama and action that those programs could only dream of. Boxing is undoubtedly the first victim of society’s pressure to become more civilised, but yet Hollywood is fixated with boxing as its history, stories and triumphs transcend to the silver screen more than any other sport. A sport once glorified in popular culture like no other, is now looked upon little more than a working man’s only artistic outlet or a white collar guy’s guilty pleasure.
Shane Mosley and Fernando Vargas may sit oblivious to this presented argument or ideology, but as they literally lay at the centre stage during the press conference of one of the biggest professional fights of their careers, it must be recognised these are not men bearing broken promises, nor suiting up for a fictional film; this is their reality. What they say and do affects them directly, both financially and physically. If America’s football players are the modern day gladiators, then fighters are the most autonomous of athletes. It is the game’s disorganisation and perhaps it’s corruption that brings the bureaucracy. Beneath all the contracts, the coverage, the promoters, the boxers and most of all the money, lies a sport saturated in more politics than any other. There may not be a title at stake in this meeting, but there is respect, which either shown through a higher word or a higher pay cheque is the most precious prize a fighter can claim. But there is also the underlining threat which promoter Oscar De La Hoya addresses at the press conference; a cruel prediction that the loser will be dropped back to the lowly ‘Friday Night Fights’. This statement serves both as motivation for the fighters and as a reminder to the fans of their fickle attention span, where their favourite fighter can fall from grace as quickly as he rises to it.
In the introductions, Sugar Shane winks at the camera, his composure is now confidence, and soon from the first bell Mosley leads Vargas around the ring like a matador does a bull, poking his punches through Vargas’ straight defence. He fights off the ring like a Jack in the Box, much of his footwork pushing vertically rather than laterally around the ring. His softer, speedball like jab serving as to wind his spring as he measures the angles. Not only does Mosley win the first round, he dictates the movement, the pace and the grounds upon which the bout is fought.
Vargas’ inability to apply the most fundamental of skills by establishing any kind of jab must disappoint his faithful, not to mention his former trainer Buddy McGirt. But it is a trend that is never bucked as Mosley is all too happy to fight from mid to close quarters. It is also Vargas’ total lack of any feinting, bobbing or weaving whatsoever that allows Mosley to land the two overhand rights that eventually prove fatal to Vargas’ chances in this fight, as it is these punches that give birth to one of the most grotesque disfigurations seen since Hasim Rahman grew a second head when he fought Evander Holyfield.
Through this blueprint, Mosley is able to win the first three stanzas, but in the fourth Vargas closes the gap between the fighters both literally and on the scorecards, out-muscling Mosley inside. By taking Mosley to the ropes, he forces his opponent to show his intangibles, a quality which as always forces an aging fighter to shed the boundless energy and alertness that accompanies a man’s physical prime. But still Mosley rallies and capitalises on the now enormous welt that has formed over Vargas’ left eye. And though this choice of punishment en route to victory may be barbaric, it is professional.
As many fighters have trouble seeing Mosley’s lightning speed with two eyes, Vargas has no chance when half blinded and after Mosley’s dissects Vargas’ sight challenged defence with some furious combinations, referee Joe Cortez is forced to call a halt to an exciting encounter. Like the most idealistic of battles, the Sugar has beaten the brawn. After a couple of lacklustre wins against lesser opposition, this fight was a return to the big time for Shane Mosley. Though victory does not symbolise a renaissance because Mosley was never a shot fighter, nor a reinvention since stylistically he’s doing exactly what he’s famous for; rather, it is somewhat of a rejuvenation. Like the two Sugar Men before him, he has forged another lease of life through some significant twilight victories and a campaign carrying adjusted goals.
In a post fight interview with Larry Merchant, his arch nemesis turned promoter, Oscar De La Hoya, dominates the background of the picture, as Shane Mosley addresses the HBO analyst with the kind of tired knowledge expected of a man after a gruelling ten round fight. And as Mosley turns to a nervous laugh during the interview and looks across to the Golden Boy, it is clear that Mosley understands the sacred line between a savage sport and a personal life, presenting a last contrast with his opponent as Vargas’ outright hatred of De La Hoya suggests he lacks the maturity to follow his conquerors lead. Mosley’s ability to turn to his former foe for reassurance without any uneasiness is a clear example of his professionalism. His suggestion of staying out of 154 pounds can perhaps be evidence of his logic. But the statement that he sees Floyd Mayweather Jnr as the sole boxer he wants next exemplifies the fighter in a man blessed by both boxing ability and the classy charisma required to belong in boxing’s most talked about and prestigious triumvirate, being that of the Sugar Men. While some will tell you a man being seen as sweet in a sport so savage is an impossible juxtaposition, they’re obviously not fight fans. Boxing brings more to the table equally through its faults and flaws as its bravery and brilliance than any other sport. This is why there’s nothing else like it.
And that is why we love it.
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