Merchant, Manny Take A Bow-BWAA Dinner, Pt 2

The boxing writers gathered to celebrate themselves and the sport on June 8, and being cursed with a unquenchable desire to document such occasions, I brought my notebook along and scribbled in between bites of sirloin. Here's Part 2 of the Boxing Writers Dinner awards report.

The Quiet Man, John Ruiz, went against type, and set the table for the
Kohn Good Guy Award.

Lee Samuels and Ricardo Jiminez, the Top Rank tandem who make our jobs
easier, shared the Kohn.

Samuels told us that hearing the Ali/Jones fight on radio in March of
1963 infected him with the boxing bug. He learned his trade, he said,
from matchmaker Teddy Brenner and Irving Rudd—who preferred the term
"press agent" to "PR man, which explains why he is polite, helpful and
effective. Well, credit for the politeness part should probably be
given to his parents.

Lou DiBella got up and set the stage for Larry Merchant, the recipient
of the Walker Award for long and meritorious service. During a break
in the action, my wife and I sidled over to Merchant's table, and we
congratulated him on the honor. "My husband always makes a point, and
then I hear you say the same thing, so I know my husband's not an
idiot," my wife told Merchant.

Merchant, the around-seventy-ish former newspaperman turned TV talker,
addressed the crowd, and introduced himself, with a wide grin, as the
"former, and new, boxing commentator for HBO."

A hearty burst of applause met the Brooklyn native who worked at the
Philly Daily News (as sports editor and columnist), and the NY Post
(as a columnist) before he gravitated over to the TV side in the mid
70s. Merchant hopped aboard Home Box Office in 1978, and has been a
part of the boxing crew since. Merchant rooters were concerned that
he'd be ushered out for the Gen X version of himself, Max Kellerman.
But we, and I count myself proudly amongst them, were relieved to have
the fight analyst poet laureate around to lift up subpar offerings
with no-holds-barred commentary.

"My first heroes were boxing writers," Merchant told the fight
writers, fighters, suits and better halves in attendance. "Through the
writers I got to know the boxers, and they introduced me to the
colorful netherworld of boxing."

Merchant gave a shoutout to the HBO crew, and then his "beautiful wife
Patricia." That gesture of course melted my wife's heart. And he also
mentioned his "dumb dog Jack," and informed us that 10 ducklings had
just hatched in his vacation place backyard. (That sent me drifting
into a Tony Soprano daydream…'member the mob boss's fixation on the
mallards in his pool?)

The gracious Merchant cited some fight writers he admired (Stan
Issacs, Vig Ziegel, Stan Hochman, Jack McKinney). He also lamented the
fact that a pile of letters written by Archie Moore, left in his
office desk, many 6-10 pages in length, were tossed out when he left
Philly.

Merchant touched on something many us know in our hearts, but may be
hesitant to admit, that we are often more entranced by the juicy
backstories of the principals in the sport than the back-and-forth
action in-ring.

The commentarian dialed back the way back machine, and recalled his
first live bout, at MSG. Bobby Ruffin took on Johnny Greco, he
recalled, and that was either in 1944 or 1945, according to boxrec, as
the two duked it out three times total.

The tix, bought by his uncle,
cost $3.30 apiece. A marvelous bit of wordsmithing in the paper the
next day left little Larry agape with admiration. One of the fighters
had "given up his fish dinner between rounds," the youngster read, and
was surprised that the act of barfing could be rendered more artful
with some nifty wordplay.

I guess, mini Merch said to himself, I best find a way to get closer
to the ring.

"I guess I did," he said.

The wave of applause was loud and sustained, and the emotion seeped
out without shame as Kery Davis and Jim Lampley grabbed Merchant in
bear hugs.

Steve Farhood then explained that the writing awards, the so-called
"Barneys," would be dispensed. Michael Hirsley, we found out, would be
retiring at the end of the month, so he drew a sharp burst of clapping
in appreciation.

Fred Sternburg, on the short list of best of breed in PR, relayed that
Pat Putnam had told him that the worst thing a writer could say in a
piece was nothing.

Kevin Iole, ex of the Las Vegas Review Journal, now writing for Yahoo,
earned the Fleischer for excellence and he took to the stage. He
thanked Marc Ratner, the old Nevada Commission boss, now with UFC, for
showing up.

Kenny told us we should buy the next presenter's next PPV, out of
respect, so Bernard Hopkins took the floor. He called out the Fight of
the Year, a scrap between Thai Somsak Sithchatchawal and Iranian
Mahyar Monshipour. Not a soul in attendance saw that fight live, apart
from the Iranian, who came onstage on gave thanks for the Markson Award.

But YouTube bolstered Rafael's case for deeming this one the big 'un for '06--it's a brave new world out there, and here's one concrete situation where the digitalization and rapid delivery of content clearly impacted a process.

Finally, boxing's versions of the Oscar was bestowed. For 2006, the BWAA determined that Manny Pacquiao, the Filipino dervish of destruction, would be awarded the Edward J. Neil trophy as Fighter of the Year. Two wins over Morales (a TKO10 in January, a KO3 in November) sandwiched a UD12 win over Larios in July.

Manny earned another sliver of my wife's heart when he thanked his "beautiful wife and family."

"Without you guys, I'm not here, there's no Manny Pacquiao," Manny continued.

"I'm very happy tonight. I promise I'll do my best to be in exciting fights. I apologize for my English, I'm still studying, I'm getting better. I want to make good speak English soon."

Already done, Pac Man, already done.