Theater of blood and suffering

For a long while Armenian Vic Darchinyan – almost four years older than Mexican Jorge Arce – begged Arce for a fight, continually implying Arce was less than others said. There was the churlish play on the Mexican’s surname, “Farce,” and the clever use of “indecent exposure” to describe Arce’s loss to Cristian Mijares. Nothing happened according to Darchinyan’s schedule, though. And we should all be glad of it.

Now is a much better time. Now, Darchinyan has three of the super flyweight division’s belts. Now, Arce has little to lose. Now, both men have loyal followings built on ethnicity and flamboyance, not sympathy. Now, each detests the man across from him in the ring.

Saturday night, in what promises to be our sport’s third fantastic scrap in four weeks, Darchinyan and Arce will battle for Darchinyan’s WBC/WBA/IBF super flyweight titles on Showtime’s “Championship Boxing.” The fight will happen in Anaheim, Calif., 30 miles south of Glendale – an American city boasting a dense Armenian population – and 100 miles north of Mexico. And there will be no ponies.

No show horses, that is. Two years ago, the last time Arce plied his wares in Anaheim, the ring entrance included a dancing horse. Hurrying to become something like a Mexican Naseem Hamed, Arce was becoming known for basically three things: Chichi ringwalks, red lollipops and plenty of blood. His competition wasn’t necessarily soft, but Arce’s pre-fight repertoire had become more serious than his title defenses.

Arce’s manager and promoters, as it turned out, had a better grasp on “El Travieso’s” limitations than Arce did. Arce offered to fight anyone and everyone, while starring in a Mexican version of “Dancing with the Stars.” So promoter Top Rank matched him with master boxer Cristian Mijares in the Alamodome three months after Anaheim. Things went poorly.

Arce got decisioned convincingly, and his illusion of invincibility was spent. But the loss proved to El Travieso’s fans only that Arce could not outdance a cutiepie southpaw like Mijares. The loss was problematic, yes – boxing aficionados quickly disregarded Arce – but not catastrophic.

Potentially catastrophic was Vic Darchinyan’s loss to Nonito Donaire three months later. Darchinyan was surly as ever as he went in the ring with Donaire. He’d administered a frightful beating to Mexican Victor Burgos in March – one that put Burgos in a coma – and expected to blow through Donaire in July. But a minute into the fifth round Darchinyan got caught with a punch and spent the next 12 seconds stumbling round like a drunken man after his dignity.

Chances were then good that major championship boxing had seen the last of Darchinyan and Arce. And yet here they are. Arce’s reputation is not very well rehabilitated. He’s been playing off-the-strip shows for about two years in places like the Plaza Monumental of Aguascalientes. His prominence in the sport is somewhere between reduced and razed.

Darchinyan, meanwhile, is more highly regarded today than ever before. Three months ago, as a substantial underdog, he surprised many knowledgeable folks by dominating Cristian Mijares. Yes, the same Mijares who’d left Arce indecently exposed in San Antonio.

All this serves as a reminder: There’s exactly no chance Arce can outclass Darchinyan Saturday night. But for Arce that was never the plan. Arce set the hands on the clock of his strategy in a Wednesday conference call last week:

“When the people pay for a ticket, they want blood and suffer(ing),” Arce said in his native Spanish. “When I am cut, I am content. My blood pleases me.”

Arce plans to subject Darchinyan to the very sort of intimidation that has become the Armenian’s trademark. Arce promised he would enter the ring at 130 pounds Saturday – a body mass addition of 13 percent in the hours after he makes 115 on Friday. In doing so Arce will prove himself perhaps the craziest of the Mexican circus performers whose weights – for only as long as it takes to mount a scale – are far slighter than their frames.

And then Arce will make a wager that goes like this: The difference in your power and mine is not as great as the difference in my chin and yours.

Arce will initiate contact until he can’t. It may be that Arce is so worn that he can’t for more than a few minutes. So be it. They will be rabid minutes. Arce hasn’t forgotten the taunts of 2007 from the Darchinyan camp.

“I am going to make him pay, word by word,” Arce said Wednesday. “To God I pray that he can take my punches. I don’t want it to end quickly.”

I know what you’re thinking. More promotional boilerplate. Yes, it is that. But it’s more than that. Neither guy has much of a choice but to make a violent display of the matter. Darchinyan-Arce almost can’t help but become Arce’s theater of blood and suffering.

Darchinyan probably has sufficient boxing skills to forgo Arce’s abattoir. But will he? Of course not. Darchinyan has wanted a chance at Arce for too long. Darchinyan has too much spite. And Arce is far too easily hit.

And Arce has no stature left to lose. So long as someone is beaten to unconsciousness Saturday, Arce retains what’s left of his niche appeal. So long as he engages furiously Arce can always go back to selling tickets in Sinaloa or Aguascalientes. This point cannot be lost on a showman of Arce’s caliber.

Darchinyan proved he is a special talent when he undid Mijares. He was much more than the “Raging Bull” of his nickname. But how will he react to a role as the less-enraged man in the ring?

The smart money is clearly on Darchinyan. But the smart money’s batting average fell from 0.100 to 0.073 a couple of weeks ago. Darchinyan has a lot more to lose in this fight. And guys with more to lose have fared poorly since September. I’ll take Arce: KO-9.

Bart Barry can be reached at bbarry@15rounds.com