By Fred De La Riva

24.06 - So maybe the cut wasn't the worst ever to occur in the boxing ring. So maybe the fighter claimed that he could continue. So maybe, just maybe, the cut man would have been able to suppress the bleeding. Way too many "maybes" in my book. This weekend's fight between Lennox Lewis and Vitali Klitschko produced one of the worst cuts ever to happen in a world championship fight. The cut above Vitali's left eye began bleeding in the third round. Approximately midway above his brow, the cut was bad, but nothing a formidable corner could not handle. Once back in the corner, Klitschko's cut man, Joe Souza did not help matters much by pinching the fresh cut with his towel and then wiping down across Vitali's face repeatedly. Souza's actions caused the cut to become much, much worse. Not only had the gash across his brow become much wider, now it had open a tear that would eventually circle around the outside corner of his eye. This was straight out of a horror movie.

As we all know by now, referee Lou Moret at the advice of Doctor Paul Wallace eventually stopped the fight. Vitali protested to no avail to all that would listen. "I could see everything!" he exclaimed at the post fight press conference. Even with 60 stitches in his face, Vitali's competitive spirit would not let him see (no pun intended), the danger his vision was in. A fighter is no way able to determine the risk to his own safety while in the fight. This is due to the level of Adrenaline and/or Testosterone.

I guess his competitive spirit rubbed off on a few too many people and not in a good way.

And it wasn't only the fans either. Sports talk hosts, T.V. commentators, sports columnists would go on to proclaim that Vitali could have gone on. The audacity of it all was unnerving. Who were these sideline warriors calling for more action? Who were these monsters pushing their warrior to bleed more for them? These are the blood-mongers. These are the sadists of our sport. The vampires who roam the aisles of Madison Square Garden, the halls of Cesar's Palace, the lobbies of every major and minor, fighting arena in this country. Now I am not hypocritical enough to say that there is no "blood lust" in me also. I enjoy a knockout and a pier six brawl as much as the next guy. But there comes a certain time in a fight when my soul screams enough. When my heart cries for the fighter and those loves ones that may be watching at home. The three most important words in my boxing lexicon are "Stop the fight!"

But not to the vampires……..

They will scream and holler at the so-called crooked referee. Their concern is not for the fighter, you see. Some care only about being on the winning side. Some want to be right in the worse way, that they would rather see their fighter almost die. Some just love the blood. These are the couch potatoes' that suddenly become "men". These vampires, these scum of the boxing world suddenly make their presence felt. In reality when all is said and done, the fighter is the one that have to live with his injuries. Not you. Not me. Not the vampires.

Feel free to contact the author at delariva69@sbcglobal.net