When Fighters Die, It’s Part of the Cost of Doing Business

Once asked how long he would continue fighting, Tex Cobb, a notorious bleeder, replied, “As long as they’ve got the money, I’ve got the brain cells.”

Cobb laughed after making the remark. Boxers often use humor as a shield against the reality of their sport. But boxing is no laughing matter.

Fighters can suffer brain damage every time they take a blow to the head. And far too often, that damage proves fatal.

Australian featherweight Lance Hobson died Tuesday from blows received in a fight in Melbourne. The ring doctor said Hobson was in “pristine condition” before the eight-round bout against China’s Liu Gang, and the former Australian featherweight champion was leading the fight on all three judges’ cards before he collapsed at the start of the sixth round. Hobson never regained consciousness.

It was at least the 38th boxing fatality in the last 14 years, more than two a year. At least seven fighters have died in the last two years alone.

Imagine the outrage if this were happening in any other sport. Imagine if seven baseball players had been killed from beanballs in the last two years, if seven football players had died from violent collisions. The cries for reform would be deafening.

It happens in boxing and people shrug and point out that it is the only sport in which the object is to hurt the opponent. The common argument is that fighters accept a lot of money to step into the ring, and, with that, they accept the risk.

It’s a valid argument. Take the violence out of hockey, and you still have hockey. Take the violence out of basketball, and you still have basketball. Take the violence out of boxing and you have ballet in high-top shoes.

Many who oppose boxing would like to see it banned. Many who love it would like to see it left alone. There seems to be little middle ground.

Nothing dulls the enthusiasm of its fans. Not the sight of Muhammad Ali, stricken with Parkinson’s disease, the symptoms caused, it is believed, by too many nights playing rope-a-dope with powerful heavyweights. Not the sight of former heavyweight Jerry Quarry, unable to care for himself because of pugilistica dementia, the condition caused by catching too many punches. Not the sight of former champion Bobby Chacon, collecting soft-drink cans for a living because his diminished mental capacity doesn’t allow him to do much else.

Occasionally, a sensitive fighter is touched by the violence. When Gabriel Ruelas killed Jimmy Garcia in the ring last spring, Ruelas was haunted by the death. The next time he stepped into the ring, he was unable to perform. Although he later blamed it on flu, he conceded that he thought he saw Garcia’s face before him in the ring.

Yet even Ruelas accepts the reality of his sport.

“Sometimes you get a knockout and sometimes you get knocked out,” he said. “You can lose your life in the ring. Fighters know this can happen. . . . It’s nobody’s fault.”

Azumah Nelson, Ruelas’ opponent the night he saw Garcia’s ghost in the ring, also understands the risk.

“If you have a child and that child drowns in the water, that doesn’t mean you don’t drink water anymore,” Nelson said. “It [Garcia’s death] doesn’t mean you have to stop boxing.”

Even when the sport does generate outrage, it can be misplaced. Many were shocked at the news that heavyweight Tommy Morrison had tested positive for HIV before a bout in February. The very thought of a fighter exposing opponents to a deadly virus, no matter how slim the chances of transmission, sent state legislators all across the country scrambling to require HIV testing.

But no one expressed outrage at the thought that, had Morrison not tested positive, he would have gone into the ring and made every effort to do harm to his scheduled opponent, Arthur Weathers. Most agree that chances of Weathers contracting HIV from Morrison in the ring would have been extremely remote. The chance of Weathers getting brain damage from a blow was considerably greater.

Things have changed. A century ago, boxers fought on barges until one keeled over. Championship matches were eventually shortened to 15 rounds. Then, they were limited to 12 rounds when it was determined that many injuries occurred in the final three rounds when fatigue often left fighters unable to defend themselves.

Matches are also stopped more quickly than they were in previous eras. No longer need a boxer be draped helplessly on the ropes before a referee will step in. Now, at the slightest sign of trouble, most referees will step between the two combatants. A fighter can go from hell-raising to helpless with the flick of a devastating jab.

There are further measures that can be taken. Instituting some Olympic rules would undoubtedly reduce fatalities. Professional fighters could be required to:

1. Wear headgear.

2. Use larger gloves that would cushion blows.

3. Operate under a system that values points for punches over knockdowns.

4. Be given a standing eight count without being penalized on scorecards.

The result would be fewer knockdowns. That would translate into smaller crowds and diminished popularity. The only reason Olympic boxing is successful is because it is under the Olympic umbrella. Stage the same matches after the Games and watch the crowds stay away.

People go to see the violence. Headgear would cut down on the blood, but it is the blood that causes the crowd to roar. Fights that produce no knockdowns are labeled dull.

Nobody pays to see Mike Tyson’s footwork or Oscar De La Hoya’s handsome face. Change professional boxing and you might as well ban it for lack of support.

Instead, the sport will continue and so, unfortunately, will the fatalities. It’s a steep price to pay, but as long as there are people willing to accept that price as the cost of doing business, nothing will change.

(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX / INFOGRAPHIC)

Death in the Ring

There have been at least 38 boxing-related deaths since 1982. A look at seven deaths that have occurred in the last two years:

* APRIL 28, 1994--Englishman Bradley Stone, 23, died two days after suffering a brain hemorrhage in a British super-bantamweight title fight against Richie Wenton in London.

* JULY 24, 1994--Las Vegas-based former Olympic welterweight gold medalist Wangila Napunyi of Kenya died two days after being stopped in the ninth round by world-ranked American David Gonzalez. Napunyi left the ring under his own power, but collapsed and required brain surgery the next day.

* MAY 12, 1995--Akbar Maulana, 23, died the day after being knocked unconscious by a series of punches from champion Bugiarso in an Indonesian featherweight national championship fight.

* MAY 19, 1995--In Las Vegas, Jimmy Garcia died of a brain clot injury from his bout with Gabriel Ruelas for the WBC super featherweight championship. Garcia lost 30 pounds in the last two months in preparation for this fight.

* SEPT. 9, 1995--South Korean bantamweight Lee Tong-choon died of acute swelling of the brain, four days after losing consciousness following a fight against Setsuo Kawamasu in Tokyo.

* OCT. 15, 1995--James Murray of Scotland was taken off life support two days after being knocked out in the final round by Drew Docherty for the British bantamweight title.

* APRIL 30, 1996--In Melbourne, Australia, Australian featherweight Lance Hobson died of a brain hemorrhage after collapsing in the sixth round of a fight the previous night against Liu Gang of China.