This Byrd Happy to Fly Lower

Chris Byrd is downsizing.

The two-time former heavyweight champion recently sold his 10,000-square foot house in Las Vegas, the one with the home gym and other bells and whistles befitting his station, for a somewhat smaller but equally luxurious home in nearby Henderson, Nev., that still allows him, wife Tracy and the couple’s three children ample elbow room.

“I grew up with 10 people in our house in Flint, Mich.,” Byrd said in recalling his generally happy but cramped childhood. “We had one bathroom. I always dreamed of having space.
“The thing is, we really don’t need that big a house. I was fortunate in that we bought it in Vegas when prices were low. Now, prices are through the roof. I made a lot of money selling my old house and putting the profits into a brand-new house.”

Perhaps Byrd has a future as a real-estate entrepreneur, but for now he still has a competitive itch that can only be scratched inside the ring. So, at 35, the soft-punching defensive wizard has decided to downsize himself along with his residence.

If all goes according to plan, Byrd (39-3-1, 20 KOs) will challenge WBC/WBA cruiserweight champion O’Neil Bell (26-1-1, 24 KOs). Both sides are eager to make the match; all that remains is for HBO or Showtime to step forward and provide the financial incentives necessary to turn concept into reality.

“Chris isn’t really interested in coming up through the ranks,” said John Hornewer, Byrd’s Chicago-based attorney. “He’s a two-time former heavyweight champion. He wants to go directly to the best the cruiserweight division has to offer, and that’s O’Neil Bell, the first unified champion since Evander Holyfield.

“People have always said that Chris could dominate at his natural weight. Well, we’ll see. The way things are now, we have to be realistic. A lot of heavyweights ducked Chris when he was a heavyweight champion. None of the heavyweight prospects are going to want to fight him now that he no longer has a title. Dropping down to cruiserweight looks to be the right move at the right time.

“Bell is coming off that big win against (Jean-Marc) Mormeck, but he needs a fight against someone like Chris to market himself. Right now, everything hinges on the economics. If TV comes through, we’re there.”

For Chris Byrd, boxing’s ultimate tweener, his chosen profession always has been a place where he has had some difficulty fitting in. Undeniably one of the sport’s nicest guys and true gentlemen, at various times he has been described as too small, too placid and too slick for his own good.

Byrd doesn’t deny any of it. He probably is too small to have competed at so high a level for so long a time among boxing’s big boys. He is a devoted family man whose personal life hasn’t played out like an ongoing train wreck. And, guilty as charged, his style between the ropes is reminiscent of another lefthanded tactician, Pernell Whitaker, except that Whitaker, a world champion in four separate weight classes from 135 to 154 pounds, was celebrated for his artistry. Byrd – whom I once wrote was the “best bunter in home run derby” – was not nearly given as much credit for his small-ball skill set in a division enraptured by power.
“I get compared to Pernell Whitaker so much,” Byrd said. “I always take that as a compliment; Pernell was a great, great fighter. Yet a lot of the people who make those comparisons criticize me. Everybody loved Pernell Whitaker, but you can’t be like him if you’re a heavyweight. The public wants heavyweights who can take guys out with one shot.
“The heavyweight division always has been equated with punching power. It’s like the only thing that counts. That’s the Mike Tyson influence. Things like defense and ring generalship get overlooked. Guys like me, all you ever hear is how you have to change to give the fans what they want. But I can’t be Mike Tyson. That’s not who I am.”

The 6-foot Byrd feinted and jabbed his way to a silver medal at the 1992 Barcelona Olympics as a 165-pounder, but he and Tracy were engaged and, well, the guy who shared a bedroom with two older brothers right up until the time he got married had this crazy idea of bulking way up and taking a run at the serious money. He would become a heavyweight.
“Evander Holyfield was the heavyweight champion when I was in the Olympics,” Byrd recalled. “He came to Barcelona and remember thinking, `Man, he isn’t that big. We’re about the same height. If he can do it, why not me?”

Actually, Holyfield was between titles at the time of the 1996 Olympics, but you get the drift. Byrd had been taught to box by his father-trainer, Joe, whose small basement gym was the laboratory in which the son learned the evasive moves that would later serve him so well.
“It’s called `getting clowned,’” Byrd said before his victorious Dec. 14, 2004, bout with Holyfield for the vacant IBF heavyweight championship. “Nobody wants to get clowned. They’d rather get knocked out than to get frustrated and embarrassed at the same time. But I’ve been doing that to people for a long time … since I was a kid. I pride myself on that. I kind of make guys look foolish, particularly heavyweights since they’re a lot slower.”

The Byrd plan was to be there but not really, to stand in front of larger, stronger opponents, as he had stood in front of his older brothers in the family basement, and make them miss. Then he’d deliver a stinging combination, step to the side and initiate the process all over again.

“After the Olympics, there wasn’t a big rush by promoters to sign me, so I had a little bit of time to sit back and think about what I wanted to do,” Byrd said. “And I decided to become a heavyweight. But once I moved all the way up, all these really big guys came onto the scene. I found myself in the land of the giants.”

Byrd proved a more than capable Lilliputian. He clowned so many lumbering opponents, they must have felt like Bozo or Emmett Kelly. All that was lacking were the bulbous red noses, greasepaint and oversized shoes. But the higher he climbed in the ratings, the more Byrd found himself isolated. He was ducked more often than the bar in a limbo contest.
“Chris had talents that allowed him to be different and it gave him a competitive advantage against most heavyweights,” Hornewer said. “He only lost to Ike Ibeabuchi and Wladimir Klitschko (twice), and they were exceptionally talented, fast-handed, large heavyweights. But guys like that are few and far between.”

So Byrd danced the heavyweight cha-cha for a while, taking one short step forward whenever he put three or four nice victories together, taking three long steps backward whenever he lost.

“Rock Newman (Riddick Bowe’s manager), had a great line,” Hornewer said. “He told Seth Abraham (then the president of HBO Sports), `There’s boxing, and there’s heavyweight boxing.’ People want the heavyweight champion to be the guy who can boast, `I can whip any man in the world.’ They want somebody who knocks everybody out. Chris never fit that mold.”

And while Byrd kept befuddling more physically imposing foes, there also was the battle at the negotiating table he had to continually wage with his promoter, Don King. Byrd had signed a contract which supposedly guaranteed him $2.5 million per title defense, but King, citing the fighter’s supposed lack of clout at the box office, frequently offered him reduced purses.

“Tracy once asked Don, `If you weren’t going to pay us $2.5 million, why did you put it into the contract?’” Hornewer said. “And Don said, `Well, I had to do something to get you to sign, didn’t I?’”

Earlier this year King exercised a clause in the contract which would have extended Byrd’s commitment to him until 2008, but Byrd threatened a lawsuit because the terms of the original deal had not been honored. King decided to grant Byrd his release.

His Hairness disputes Team Byrd’s version of the contractual imbroglio.

“I love Chris Byrd, but the people around him led him down the primrose path,” King said. “His contract called for him to be paid $2.5 million a fight (ital) unless otherwise agreed.(end ital) His talent for a small man is extraordinary, but in some ways he’s one of the most disappointing fighters I’ve ever had. His people brought me the names of the opponents they wanted, and the money just wasn’t there to make those fights under terms of the contract.
“He signed off on the fights I made for him, so what’s the dispute? This is a guy who never made more than $200,000 for a night’s work until I took him on.”

However you choose to look at it, financial issues became an increasing concern for Byrd.
“When you’re supposed to make X amount of dollars, especially when you haven’t made huge money in your career, you want to be compensated fairly,” he said. “You think to yourself, `I can finally support my family like I want to. I’ve reached this championship level.’ I’m doing well. Then you have to argue and fight to get half the amount your contract calls for.

“It affects you mentally. You don’t feel like training as hard. All you can think about is how you’re being shortchanged. You’re not focused on boxing. When you walk into the ring, you’re all messed up.”

Byrd said he was most messed up when he entered the ring on April 22 to defend his IBF heavyweight title against mandatory challenger Wladimir Klitschko, the 6-6, 241-pound Ukrainian who had outpointed him to claim his WBO crown on Oct. 14, 2000.

This time, the beating Byrd took was even more severe as he forgot about trying to clown Klitschko and opted to stand and trade with him. It was like a rowboat taking on a destroyer; Klitschko stopped Byrd, who weighed in at only 213½ pounds, in seven rounds.

“I fought a stupid fight,” Byrd said. “I took punches for no reason. I let myself get sucked into the trap of worrying about what people thought. After years of listening to snide remarks, I let it get to me.”

Byrd could have repaired to his new home to enjoy the good life. He estimates that he earned $10 million to $12 million during his two championship reigns, not Tyson or Holyfield money, but enough to comfortably sustain someone so frugal as himself.

“Too many fighters try to live this MTV lifestyle,” Byrd said. “Why spend crazy for every shiny thing you see? I’m a Christian man, a family man. I’m not living just for today. I want to put something away for the future, for my family.

“If I never fight again, I know my kids’ college money is there. If something were to happen to me tomorrow, Tracy and the kids would be taken care of. That’s peace of mind.”

So why fight on?

“Hopefully, I can bring some glamour to the cruiserweight division,” Byrd said. “There are some guys there that can fight. They’re just not that well known. I mean, 200 pounds is not small. But it’s not really big by today’s heavyweight standards.

“If I make the transition smoothly, maybe some of the smaller heavyweights who also are struggling with the size thing would also consider coming down. If that happens, I can see the cruisers becoming really hot.

“This is really no strain on me. My walking-around weight is only 205. Yesterday I weighed 201. If I were training for a fight at cruiserweight, I’d probably come in at 193, 195.”
There’s also the narrowing of the power gap which has made Byrd something of the odd man out.

“If anybody hits you just so, you’re going to sleep,” he said. “But if I can take what the big heavyweights dished out, I ought to be able to take what most cruiserweights dish out.
“The punches I’m landing should have more effect, too. At cruiserweight, I’m going to feel like the playing field finally is level.