Big fight: Plenty of parking, few thrills

Dean Juipe

Monday, Sept. 20, 1999 | 10:51 a.m.

Perhaps driven inside by a passing rainstorm, as early as Saturday morning the halls at Mandalay Bay were clogged with would-be paparazzi and assorted sightseers drawn to the hotel by the prospects of a memorable fight and its accompanying glitter.

With still some 10 hours to kill before Oscar De La Hoya and Felix Trinidad would step into the ring, the walls of the corridor that leads from the casino to its Events Center were shoulder to shoulder with the curious and, presumably, the tapped out or the bored.

They spoke in mostly hushed tones as the occasional celebrity strolled past and made his or her way to the V.I.P. ticket window. The build-up had begun.

By evening, that same corridor was as difficult to navigate as the North Sea. But this time the celebrities were out in full force and even those of only borderline significance were drawing disproportionate attention.

Over there, by the big guy who must be a basketball player, is that Jerry Tarkanian's bald head visible amid a tightly packed entourage? The thought, however pleasant, that Tark would thrust himself into this collage was quickly dispelled by weaving toward the gathering and finding the centerpiece not the legendary former UNLV basketball coach but retired boxing referee and man-about-the-courtroom Mills Lane.

At least he looked as if he, too, could barely fathom his notoriety.

This was the new face of professional boxing on display at Mandalay Bay, and the up side for locals is that that the parking lot at the complex was never completely full. The reason: Tourists made up at least nine-tenths of the crowd.

A quick and random survey up at Section 221 inside the Events Center where De La Hoya and Trinidad fought 12 mostly languid rounds confirmed the obvious: These people, some of whom felt fleeced by the lack of action in the ring, were paying dearly to take in a pastime Las Vegans once took for granted.

But in the new age of casino marketing, tickets to the big fights are being dispersed not by your cousin Vinnie but via travel agents affiliated with the host casino. If you want to see De La Hoya and Trinidad fight, get out that credit card for a three- or four-day stay at some ersatz tropical paradise and the fight tix will be included in the package.

Perhaps lacking a panoramic romanticism that once enveloped a facility such as the outdoor arena that formerly stood in all its metal glory behind Caesars Palace, boxing at its highest level still retains its intensity. There is a tangible sense of drama within the crowd as a fight of some magnitude approaches and the combatants are, at long last, led into public view.

The Hollywood stars that stand for the spectacle only add to the heightened awareness that man is still driven by his basest of needs and likely hasn't evolved all that much since the indulgences of the Roman Empire.

As was likely the case in ancient Rome as well, pickpockets and bandits mingled with the minions and predatorily eyed the most susceptible of targets. A major-league boxing card is no place to lose your wallet, although many presumably innocent or inebriated passersby did just that.

On this particular night there was, in almost every respect, great attention to detail. Between fights, a Mandalay Bay employee Windexed the ring ropes as the public-address announcer sped through celebrity introductions, raising his voice to solicit additional cheers when he arbitrarily felt they were necessary. (A revealing aside: Arizona senator John McCain, who routinely takes in events of this stature and who is customarily greeted with applause for his political contributions as well as his standing as a former P.O.W., was subjected to a chorus of boos. Running for president can do that to a guy.)

One detail that evaded attention until the last minute and which could have short-circuited the entire fight was the failure of Trinidad's corner men to bring his mouthpiece with them. "Now I've seen everything," said an exasperated Marc Ratner of the Nevada State Athletic Commission, as the fight was delayed several minutes before a suitable mouthpiece was secured.

Given how infrequently each man hit the other in the face during the course of the fight, neither Trinidad nor De La Hoya may have needed a mouthpiece for anything more than cosmetic reasons. With the crowd of 12,500 going blank at times in response to a lack of action brought on by De La Hoya's tiresome running, catcalls rained on the fighters as weightily as the morning's unexpected hail pelted those around the Mandalay Bay prefab beach.

"Aw, come on Oscar," hollered one iron-lunged (in)dignitary.

But the Golden Boy saved himself for an occasional offensive and a predictable surge when he heard the 10-second warning near the end of each round. As blatantly as any pug who ever found himself in the ring in a fairly action-less fight, he tried desperately to "steal" each round in its closing seconds.

Some thought it worked, some held it against him.

While little distinguished one round from another, trends emerged and De La Hoya built up a nest egg of a lead by taking command in rounds 6 through 9. Moving laterally throughout the fight, he had Trinidad perplexed and in danger of disappointing his Puerto Rican countrymen who were mixed into the mostly pro-De La Hoya crowd.

But in auto-racing parlance, De La Hoya then hit the wall. Three months of training or not, he lost some of the stamina that marked such earlier victories as ones over Ike Quartey and Pernell Whitaker, and Trinidad began catching his elusive target. The winded De La Hoya dropped his jaw accordingly.

Rounds 10, 11 and 12 were Trinidad's, and the fight was wickedly close when the final bell sounded. The Sun, in fact, had it dead even at 114 apiece.

One of the judges, Glen Hamada, concurred, but the other two leaned toward Trinidad. Bob Logist -- who probably shouldn't have called Round 1 even, but did -- had Trinidad ahead 115-114 and Jerry Roth, a Las Vegan who gets a number of these plush assignments, had it 115-113 for the wiry underdog.

The audience responded with a roar that it had been withholding throughout the fight or had been saving for such a climactic moment. The battle of undefeated welterweights had gone to the outsider.

De La Hoya, beaten after 31 professional wins, was initially receptive to the decision but later claimed he deserved better after mistakenly feeling he "controlled" the early and middle rounds of the fight. When reality set in, he admitted his safety-first tactics hadn't worked and that "next time I'll have to be a brawler."

Trinidad spoke of his will to win and implied it was in that area that he had the upper hand in a fight in which there were no knockdowns or serious injuries. Try as Trinidad may to get De La Hoya on the ropes, it wasn't until the verdict was announced that the 36-0 champion truly had his man where he wanted him.

"There's going to be a riot tonight," said eccentric ex-heavyweight champ Mike Tyson backstage shortly after the judges' decision was announced. He was wrong, of course, although 12,500 people going out one exit and through still another gauntlet of thrill seekers could have stampeded and made him seem prophetic.

Immediately there were questions about a rematch and just as immediately De La Hoya's promoter, Bob Arum, felt his pride topple after his fall. "That'll be the day," he said of reversing roles with rival promoter Don King for a rematch promotion in which the boisterous one would play the lead role.

As King reiterated Sunday, Arum will have to accede to his wishes or there will be no encore.

With the fighters reduced to pawns, the promoters will either reconsider their positions or a fight that was labeled as one for the millennium will, instead, stand alone as one that held considerable promise while failing to deliver.

Oscar and Felix may have avoided the postfight press conference, yet they seemed compatible enough under the circumstances. But the real "Odd Couple" in this equation, King and Arum, appear to have tired of each other's company and the traveling circus that is professional boxing is in need of a road map even if it has no shortage of destinations or stragglers.

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