Wednesday, Feb. 4, 2004 | 10:03 a.m.
Dean Juipe's column appears Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. His boxing notebook appears Thursday. Reach him at [email protected] or (702) 259-4084.
Invited to Michael Nunn's suite at the newly opened Mirage, I was greeted warmly as I arrived and was made to feel comfortable as we sat in the posh front room. We had known each other for a couple of years and we exchanged small talk before I got myself in order and began the interview process.
"Wait," he blurted out. "Let me see your watch."
A college graduation gift was still keeping time for me, a nice watch with an inscription on the back. The manufacturer -- Girard Perregaux of France -- gave the timepiece a worldly quality, even if I had no idea what the item was worth.
"You want to sell this?" Nunn asked as he examined it, turning it over in his large hands.
I knew the watch wasn't worth thousands of dollars and that Nunn, who described himself as an avid watch collector, might overpay for it, yet I politely declined.
That somewhat dated anecdote, along with several others related to Nunn, came to mind over the weekend after a wire story out of Rock Island, Ill., conveyed a most alarming bit of news: Michael Nunn, 40, was headed to prison for 24 years.
Drugs were Nunn's downfall and, as a repeat offender, they may have been for some time.
Barring a late and unexpected reprieve, he's headed for the slammer for what may be the remainder of his life, having pleaded guilty to buying 2 pounds of cocaine from an undercover agent last year. The judge, William Gritzner, cut the former middleweight and super middleweight world champion no slack in assigning him to 292 months in a federal prison.
A cascade of memories poured over me as I read the account. A great athlete with a vivacious personality and a man once so magnetic that Hollywood celebrities were following him to his fights in Las Vegas, was now reduced to counting time in a place where a watch is more of a nuisance than a necessity.
"I made some mistakes," Nunn told me in a 1998 story that traced his still-sputtering career. "But that's in the past. I'm not going to get into anymore trouble.
"I've matured. I've grown up."
He made those comments after already having had drug-related problems, and, regardless of his intent as he said those things to me that day, he obviously failed to follow through. I'd like to be sympathetic but the law-enforcement community is not.
I still recall with absolute clarity the night Nunn won the first of his two championships -- the International Boxing Federation middleweight crown -- because it had such a Las Vegas quality to it. Held indoors at Caesars Palace, the crowd was so rambunctious it all but shrieked in admiration as Nunn and his procession -- headed by the perpetually scowling Mr. T -- worked its way toward the ring and an eventual bout with then-champion Frank Tate.
It was July 28, 1988, and Nunn was fresh and the crowd was very much alive. I liked him on a personal level but I was drawn into a betting mistake I still regret today, as I talked myself (and a colleague or two) into taking the better odds and wagering on Tate.
Nunn destroyed him, winning in nine rounds. Despite my close association to the sport, it was the last time I trusted my instincts enough to bet on boxing.
But I would bet that no one who saw Nunn that night could ever have envisioned what would happen to him after the spotlight would fade and how his saga would play out.
He held on to the IBF title through five successful defenses, polishing off tough guys Juan Roldan, Sumbu Kalambay, Iran Barkley, Marlon Starling and Donald Curry in a spectacular streak of effectiveness. The bout against Kalambay, at the Las Vegas Hilton, was especially scintillating, as Nunn needed only 88 seconds to connect with an overhand left that ended the action.
Nunn would lose the middleweight title to James Toney in a 1991 fight in his native Davenport, Iowa, but he bounced back to defeat Victor Corboda a year later for the World Boxing Association championship at 168 pounds. He made four defenses at that weight before losing to Steve Little in 1994 in London.
Shortly thereafter his career and life were in free fall. Instead of being pampered at glitzy hotel/casinos such as the Mirage and adored by movie stars, Nunn was whisked into a new reality that included old acquaintances from the dark side of Davenport. He had money and they had the goods, and that troublesome mix had Nunn in and out of law-related problems.
He still tried to fight, but by the tail end of his career Nunn was bloated and exposed. Once a sleek southpaw with lightning fists, he bulged to 195 pounds for fights in minor outlets such as Arizona Charlie's and the Silver Nugget in North Las Vegas.
Boxing had passed him by. And while that inevitability has a bitter quality for even the best of former champions, it's particularly disturbing when the fighter fails to prepare for life in the real world or is led or coerced into financing illegal transactions.
The coke Nunn bought that got him busted was worth $24,000.
The shame of it is apparent on many levels, not the least of which is the fact this boyish, handsome man was once idolized by starlets and leading men alike. He had a spot on top of the world.
Today he's in the dungeon.
Maybe it was the rigors of boxing that beat the sensibility out of Michael Nunn, or maybe it was from the effects of boredom -- Confucius say, "Man with many watches can sometimes have too much time on his hands" -- or, perhaps, it was all of his own doing. But it's an annoying, unsatisfying decline to what had been a storybook ascent and career.
If it's any consolation to him or us, the days he spent in the sun were really quite glorious.
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