Anyone who thinks seriously about our sport’s troubles for a few minutes concludes that promoters are as harmful as they are essential. Corrupt sanctioning bodies, rigged fights, incompetent officials, ruined pugilists; all return to promoters. Meanwhile, would-be reformers crowd barstools and message boards and inboxes with their suggestions. How many changes they would implement if only there were more time, or access, or money.
Would-be reformers, meet Steve Ayala. A few years ago, as a successful Arizona insurance entrepreneur, Mr. Ayala agreed to sponsor some local fights at Glendale Arena – home of the Phoenix Coyotes. He wasn’t pleased by what he saw. He didn’t email a columnist or tell his friends he’d given up on the sport, though. Instead, he acquired his promoter’s license and went to work.
This Saturday night, Ayala Promotions celebrates its one-year anniversary, at Celebrity Theatre, with its fifth Phoenix event. Steve Ayala describes the upcoming card as an “all-star Arizona show” that will feature undefeated super-featherweight Juan Garcia (10-0, 3 KOs), undefeated heavyweight George Garcia (12-0, 4 KOs), and a host of well-matched bouts. Ayala Promotions will also continue its tradition of donating a dollar from each purchased ticket to a local charity – this time directing funds to Thomas J. Papas School for Homeless Children.
Already, Steve Ayala has gotten further than many Arizonans thought he would. His first promotion was a victim of what dirty tricks have plagued our local scene for years. Shortly before the card’s fighters arrived, someone called the hotel where they’d be staying and canceled their room reservations. Still, the show went on.
Four months later, Ayala Promotions made its second event in a field house on the State Fairgrounds. It was a fun, well-attended, local card. Its matches were passable, and Steve Ayala used a few novelties to keep the crowd interested. One was the “$500 Knockout” promotion; a raffle was held, and its winner was brought to ringside for one fight and a chance at $500 if there was a knockout.
At the end of the show, Mr. Ayala, a slight man in a smart suit, took the microphone and thanked the audience, pledging in Spanish that he was just beginning, and that each show would be better than the last. The standard speech. The crowd may have been convinced. The only boxing writer in attendance, however, was not.
Then came May 19, 2006. That night Ayala Promotions brought seven matches to Celebrity Theatre. Seven brutal confrontations; fantastic fights, top to bottom. Michael Carbajal and Mike Tyson made ringside appearances. A member of the Arizona Boxing Commission said, “This is the best card we’ve had in years.” And even the night’s special guest, Antonio Margarito, had to smile and shake his head at the violence and relentlessness that happened before him.
Anxious to continue improving, Steve Ayala next attended Fight Promoter University. He returned to Celebrity Theatre in the fourth week of July and made another compelling show. And by then, it was undeniable: many of Arizona’s best boxing people, in matchmaking and training and managing and public relations, had become part of Ayala Promotions.
“The team I put together,” says Mr. Ayala. That’s what has been better than expected in his first year of promotion. What has been worse than expected? “Crowd size. But I’m the new kid. People still don’t know what to expect.”
In that answer, though, lies Steve Ayala’s greatest appeal as a promoter. He is honest to a fault. He says things in an interview that promoters – hucksters most every one – never say: “I don’t have enough experience to give advice”, “I’m still learning”, “I’m a simple man”, “Nobody returned my calls”, “I wouldn’t know who to call about television”, “I’m an outsider”.
Promoters can be unscrupulous, though. So perhaps Mr. Ayala’s disarming and self-deprecating way shouldn’t be trusted? Here’s a reason to trust it. Steve’s fighters – whom he calls “my kids” – go out of their ways to say good things about him. Off-the-record, away from press rooms and weigh-ins, and nowhere near Steve himself, Ayala Promotions’ fighters say they trust Steve, that he does what he says he’ll do, and that he’s an enormous improvement over the you’ll-never-fight-in-this-town-again rhetoric they’re used to hearing.
“I’m bringing hope to this market,” Steve affirms.
Asked if his honesty-first approach may not hinder his earnings, Steve answers, “I don’t know anything else, Bart.”
Steve Ayala doesn’t need boxing to make a living. In fact, to date, boxing hasn’t netted him a penny of profit. Steve has Ayala Insurance Service, his “day job”, and doesn’t necessarily see fight promotion as a road to wealth. Some in Arizona initially misinterpreted that as weakness. Aside from shenanigans with hotel accommodations, they made anonymous phone calls and tried to hector Steve out of the fight game.
Here’s what they missed. Steve Ayala believes he is doing something greater than growing a source of income. He believes he is giving decent, young, Arizona athletes opportunities they would not otherwise have. Too, he can afford to spend more than he makes in boxing. And in all-American way, Steve Ayala has decided he’s gone too far to abandon the enterprise. “I’m in too deep, now,” he says.
If that gives Mr. Ayala an air of madness before his detractors, no one should mistake it for blindness. “At every show, I meet a new character. I make a list. And I just eliminate them. I’m a simple man, but I’ve got a good memory.”
Then, in a quiet and kind voice, Steve Ayala issues something of a threat: “I’m not going to quit. I love my day job!”
However this Saturday’s show turns out, however far Ayala Promotions eventually gets, let this much be clear: Steve Ayala has already helped Arizona fighters more than have any would-be reformers at a bar, on a message board, or in an email.