There were two fight cards in the Phoenix area Friday night. One was regulated by the Arizona State Boxing Commission. The other was not.
There was a death, only the second in Arizona’s recorded ring history, a few days after police officer, husband and dad Barry Scott, a 22-year-old veteran of the Iraq war, collapsed following a bout against a fireman in a fund-raiser for families of fallen and injured officers on the unregulated card.
There are plenty of questions about what happened and how it happened. Two days after Scott died Tuesday, the cause of death still had not been disclosed. Neither the other fighter nor the referee had been identified.
Other than prepared statements and E-mail, neither the Phoenix Police Department nor Felko Promotions, which staged the card, has answered questions. Other than headgear and 16-ounce gloves, it’s not known whether any other precautions were in place.
There is only a collection of haphazard reports from eye witnesses at ringside who said Scott was knocked down twice and battered around after the first of three 1-minute rounds in an event, Guns N Hoses, that was supposed to be a get-together in the friendly rivalry between cops and firemen.
Here’s a suggestion: The next time anybody schedules a fundraiser, try flag-football.
There’s a reason boxing is subject to state regulation. It’s dangerous. That goes without saying, but it has to be said again and again in what ranks as a tragic redundancy.
“I don’t what happened,’’ said fireman Jerry Cheatham, a world-ranked welterweight and the most popular fighter in the Phoenix during the late 1970s and early 1980s. “I wasn’t there. But it really, really saddens me. Right now, I’m worried about the fireman who was in there with the cop.
“You know, it’s that old line: You can play football. You can play basketball and baseball and all those other sports. You can play badminton. But, man, you can’t play boxing.’’
The cop-versus-firemen card took place at the Fort McDowell Casino, an Indian reservation with sovereign rights. Currently, Fort McDowell does not have a working relationship with the Arizona State Boxing Commission. At one time, it was part of a so-called compact that the Commission has with other reservations in Arizona.
If Fort McDowell had still been part of the agreement, the card would have been regulated by the state, according to longtime Arizona commission chief John Montano, who on the night of Officer Scott’s collapse was on another side of town, regulating super-featherweight Juan Garcia’s loss to Jose Hernandez at Wild Horse Casino on the Gila River Reservation south of Phoenix.
It is impossible to say whether the Commission’s regulation would have prevented the Scott tragedy, but Montano’s record speaks for itself. In 32 years with the Arizona Commission, there has never been a ring death in any fight under his supervision. The other recorded death in Arizona was to an amateur in 1990. The Commission also has no jurisdiction over amateur cards.
Montano’s biggest worry these days is precisely the kind of event that was staged at Fort McDowell. It is hard to know much about anybody who steps through ropes.
“As far as I’m concerned, these Toughman-like contests should not go on,’’ Montano said. “They are my biggest fear. You just don’t have much of record on whether of these guys have fought, if at all. You go into these events flying blind.’’
Experience, or lack of it, is the biggest question of all. Did the fireman ever fight as an amateur or pro? Was he and Officer Scott even asked that question? The perceptive Montano would have asked that and a lot more. He has been asking and asking for years with a keen eye that has protected fighters, world-class and wannabe, from themselves and each other.
Montano often evaluates fighters with the kind of street-based common sense that can only come from years of watching how they react, or how they don’t. He has been known to suddenly throw a pen or set of keys at a fighter just to see if reaction time is still there. If a fighter can’t catch or duck an object thrown from behind a desk, a big right hand behind a quick jab is dangerous.
“Somebody can always throw that lucky punch,’’ Cheatham said. “It’s kind of like the Rocky movie. But the big thing is in knowing how to get out of the way. Guys who don’t have the training don’t know how to.’’
Maybe noting could have saved Officer Scott for reasons that still aren’t clear and maybe never will be. But some proven regulation might have prevented the tragedy, might have helped make sure that Scott did not get in the way.
The evidence is 32 straight years of not a single death in Arizona’s pro ring. Actually, that’s more than just evidence. It’s common sense.
