Friday, July 28, 2000 | 10:29 a.m.
Dean Juipe's column appears Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. His boxing notebook appears Thursday. Reach him at [email protected] or 259-4084.
The caller was the assignment editor for a well-known national magazine based in New York City.
He said he was looking for someone to write a mid-size feature on the glamorous side of club boxing in Las Vegas. He was aware of the hoopla that surrounds big fights in the city and how those shows attract a chic Hollywood crowd, but he wanted the focus of the proposed article to be the affordable, lower-level fight cards that attract the everyday tourist and savvy locals.
Given the magazine's upscale clientele, the desired effect of the story was to accentuate the club scene's positives and, if possible, tilt the imagery toward an alluring mix of fisticuffs and trendy, well-read fight fans. Ideally, the reader would be able to visualize the spectators, drinks in hand, immersed in a cultish world of knockouts and slot machines.
It was a piece that would contrast with one or two done by other magazines in recent months that were stilted toward the grimy, low-ceiling barrooms that frequently double as boxing sites in the East, Midwest and deep South.
He was offering good money, too.
So it wasn't easy to tell him what he didn't know and to expose the myth of Las Vegas as a haven for rabid fans with a superior boxing pedigree.
In truth, the club boxing scene here is quite different from how it must be perceived on Madison Avenue. It isn't all that fascinating.
Club boxing comes and goes at various venues in the city and is a staple only at the Orleans, and, of late, the Hard Rock. Occasional shows also pop up at Regent Las Vegas and Arizona Charlie's.
It would be nice to report these shows are attended by devoted boxing fans who recognize quality cards and reflect Las Vegas' reputation as the boxing capital of the world. But, for the most part, attendees are oblivious to who's fighting and, arguably, really don't care.
The proof may lie in the advertising campaign concocted by the Hard Rock to promote its monthly cards. Have you see 'em? They're all bosoms, cleavage and topless babes, with only minimal information about the fighters who are scheduled to compete and nothing more than shallow, token, tough-guy verbiage.
The ads imply a plethora of haughty, exotic sirens frequent the boxing cards at the casino and that any male willing to put up $20 could leave with one on his arm.
That ad campaign is consistent with the Hard Rock's approach to marketing itself, with women the inevitable carrot at the end of the stick. Boxing? Oh, it's there between the ring-card bikinis and the blasting music that separates the rounds, but it's secondary to sneaking a glance at the girl of your dreams.
It's sport, all right, but it has little to do with boxing.
Elsewhere, the Orleans is plagued by fight cards that are routinely shuffled and bear little likeness to their original incarnation. And Regent Las Vegas is experiencing a similar trend.
Another thing: One-sided fights predominate.
"Geez, it must be discouraging," the editor said after being apprised of the situation. "It is," I said, and we agreed to talk a little later.
Within minutes he called back and left this message: "Thanks anyway, but you talked us out of it."
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