Press Box
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O Bill Clinton. No Mike Tyson. Viloria big enough
to steal the showNo problem.
We were left with B-list celebrities, but D-cup ring girls pranced around the ring in, well, abundance.
Bubba and Iron Mike would have greatly approved of the talent on display Friday at the Blaisdell Arena. Just as well, though. Without them in the house, we assume the ladies got home safely.
The ex-prez was rumored to be appearing everywhere in Hawaii that night. The ex-champ? Who knows? We should just hope they weren't together, because that could only mean trouble.
It was also good that neither was at the Blaisdell Arena. This was Brian Viloria's night and he deserved no distractions. This was his time, even more than his pro debut here last year, when he was on the undercard of a matinee featuring Jesus Salud at the Hawaii Convention Center.
On Friday, the crowd waited more than three hours for 38 seconds. Viloria's two-punch explosion on Sandro Oviedo knocked the Argentinian out ... of boxing, according to Oviedo; minutes after the fight he said his 43rd pro fight was his last.
You didn't have to blink to miss it.
It had fans leaving the arena with full beers.
If Viloria makes a habit of this, he'll never be able to sell Pay Per View.
It was Tysonesque.
This is where we have to resist trying to give Viloria a nickname like Little Mike or Tiny Tyson. Viloria's seventh pro victory was similar in some ways to what Tyson did with regularity at the same stage in his career. But it just doesn't seem right at all to link these guys in any fashion.
"Brian's more likely to hug your kids than eat them," said the Star-Bulletin's Jerry Campany, referring to one of Tyson's typical tirades.
There's usually no place for children in the strip bar of sports that is pro boxing. But there they were, way past their bedtime, some of them looking down to the flyweight they want to grow up to be like as he signed autographs for them.
It was late for all of us.
Note to Uncle Tom Moffatt, who promoted an entertaining, but long show: If you're going to put Brian Viloria on a card, make sure his fight starts before curfew. Starting a half-hour late again is not an option.
Three other friendly suggestions: 1) Fewer preliminary fights. 2) Shorter prelims. 3) Prelims with bigger guys and, hence, more knockouts.
Double-star that one about some heavyweights.
WELTERS ARE OK. Brawling Gerry Balagbagan took comeback kid Eric Alexander to the limit, and that was fun. But the fans want large. Let's super-size some of it next time. You know the big boys are out there.
Much of the allure of boxing is all the contrast and color surrounding one of the most basic of human endeavors -- two people fighting. Some of that draw is taken away when everyone on the card is under 150 pounds.
In the big picture, that's unfortunate for Viloria.
The flyweight from Waipahu is destined for stardom. But beyond Hawaii, only those who follow the sport closely will know much about him. Because he's a flyweight.
Boxing makes a good attempt at trying for different with all its weight classes. But bigger -- even if not better -- is more popular. It's true in everything ... ask the guys who ogled the ring girls all night.
Viloria made Sports Illustrated for representing his country in the Olympics. Tyson made the cover for being a lunatic. A heavyweight lunatic.
Of course, here -- where Viloria is the hometown hero and everyone knows of his clean image and powerful pistons -- he is a 112-pound giant.
Viloria will probably fight in Hawaii again in November. Up next is an encounter with a yet-to-be-named foe June 18 in Del Mar, Calif., on ESPN.
Between now and then, you don't have to worry about locking up your women and children in fear of an idle Brian Viloria.
He won't wait long to begin the thousands of hours that makes the next 38 seconds possible.
Dave Reardon, who covered sports in Hawaii from 1977 to 1998,
moved to the the Gainesville Sun, then returned to
the Star-Bulletin in Jan. 2000.
E-mail Dave: dreardon@starbulletin.com