Leon probably still
laughing at Gittelsohn
IF the Brian Viloria-Valentin Leon fight were the only one I'd witnessed Tuesday night, then I might be more inclined to agree with Viloria's manager, Gary Gittelsohn, who contended that it should have been stopped earlier to protect Leon's health.
But after watching guys getting their brains scrambled all night -- including a particularly gruesome out-on-his-feet moment that stretched into an extended canvas nap for Kalihi's Eric Alexander -- Leon didn't look bad at all. He seemed almost refreshed in comparison.
That was nothing.
Out of all that night's boxers, this was not the guy to be worried about.
He seemed to be having a great time, both during and after the fight, despite the concern of his opponent's manager.
But things happen so quickly in boxing, and the atmosphere is so emotional, that after listening to part of Gittelsohn's blazing tirade, I began to be swayed. You couldn't help it. Gittelsohn makes an impassioned case. I was worried for the kid. I was worried I had missed something, and written the wrong thing.
I don't pretend to know boxing at all, not nearly well enough to know if Abe Pacheco is a good referee or not. Not well enough to tell if a fighter is taking too much cumulative damage. All I knew was what I had seen, and the context in which I had seen it.
It was a relief the next day to hear that, even with the benefit of hindsight, Pacheco had seen what I saw -- Viloria was pummeling Leon, but not hurting him. Leon was clear-eyed and eager to continue. Leon knew exactly what he was doing, and let everyone know it. Leon, even after taking Viloria's biggest licks, even while being counted out, openly grinned at the notion that he was ever really in trouble.
There were guys on the undercard who might have taken damage that could add up on them.
Leon was just being a pain in the okole, determined to ruin the storyline, determined to steal a moral victory by any means necessary.
And he got one.
I don't know boxing, but I'm not worried about him.
The state boxing commission does know the sport. It should take Gittelsohn's charges seriously, and it should investigate. But it should not render itself irrelevant. It should not be dictated to.
It should put emotion aside (and also the threat that Gittelsohn might take his Brian and go home) and conduct the interviews and go over the film and the facts and remember what actually happened that night.
Here is what I remember of that night: Gittelsohn's indignant rage, and Leon's defiant smile.
Kalani Simpson can be reached at ksimpson@starbulletin.com