23.05.05 – By Matthew Hurley: In the wake of Andrew Golota’s quick and decisive defeat against Lamon Brewster I sat back and nodded because I just knew, as most did, that the worst possible thing to happen to the psychologically fragile Golota was to have this fight take place in front of a huge crowd of his hometown fans. The pressure, as if he could handle any more of it, would be unbearable for him. He even said as much before the bout. Quite frankly I didn’t even want to watch this fight because I was annoyed that Golota, a proverbial loser, was getting yet another shot at a title and another big paycheck. Sometimes my cynicism gets the better of me.
When Golota fell for the first time in mere seconds and that weird look on his face glazed over I felt bad for him. It was that look, that look of absolute bewildered desperation. Sports writers can be an unforgiving lot and I’m certainly guilty of that so it struck me as odd that I felt kind of sad for Andrew Golota when I’d only recently written a withering dismissal of him in one of my columns.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not changing my tune about his merits as a fighter, he’s a total waste of talent and anyone who ever thought this guy deserved all the second chances he received or even thought he could perform at the highest level when all the evidence about his mental makeup were in were deluding themselves. But Golota represents, at the heavyweight level, just how psychological sports can be, and boxing, the ultimate lonely man’s game is the most naked example.
After Mike Tyson bit Evander Holyfield in their infamous rematch I can remember being even more astonished at Holyfield’s conciliatory reaction in the bout’s aftermath. Not only did he forgive Tyson he admitted to doing the same thing in a bout early in his career when he panicked and didn’t know what to do, or what he was doing. “It’s scary being in there,” he said. “I just reacted. I don’t blame Tyson. I think he just reacted to a situation where he felt he trapped.” The media, the public and self-righteous band wagon jumpers not only ignored Holyfield’s remarks they wanted Tyson strung up. Never for a moment would they admit that they had all been mesmerized by his ferocity when he was winning and how they had applauded him before he fell apart psychologically.
It’s almost surreal now to think that Tyson and Golota actually got in the ring together and both of them didn’t snap. Lest anyone forget Golota literally ran from the ring after the second round with Tyson in a fight he was competitive in. It was astonishing to watch but not unexpected. As he ran to his dressing room this lost individual was pelted with beers, and according to some reports, cups filled with urine. Physically he had all the tools. Mentally he was vacant and from a spectators point of view that is unforgivable. In a human sense it’s alarming and quite sad. These breakdowns, by the way, were not limited to the ring. Golota, much like Tyson, has a life riddled with incidents he’d much rather forget.
Back in 1986 Donald Curry was on the cusp of a superstar quality career. He was being primed for a shot at Marvin Hagler. All he had to do was move up from the welterweight division and claim his throne, according to many. But he got derailed by Lloyd Honeyghan in the upset of the year and was never the same again. Curry was always a gentle person, quiet and unassuming. His psyche, in the aftermath of the Honeyghan bout, revealed a man totally at odds with the cold, calculating fighter most had assumed he was. He was never the same and he would appear almost dazed in interviews as he tried to put his career back together. He never did and his life unraveled. “Fighter’s reveal themselves,” former lightweight champion Ray Mancini once commented. “We can be tough and fierce, but we’re human.” Indeed, they can wrap themselves in a warrior’s cloak but for most there is uncertainty and oftentimes misery hidden beneath the shiny cape.
When Golota hit the canvass the first time his eyes bugged out of his head and stared as if in terror as to what he had once again put himself through. He got up and then down he went again. To his great credit Lamon Brewster, a man not unfamiliar with the weight of psychological self-abuse, put Golota out of his misery with a final flurry. Brewster, a nicer man you won’t find in this brutal sport, was quick to remark in the post fight interview of his own travails in the aftermath of his trainer’s death and how it nearly ruined his chances for fistic glory. His mind just wasn’t there, he said. Here was a guy who had just decimated a favored opponent in less than a minute and his reaction seemed almost sympathetic. His words, taken however you want, proved just how cerebral this sport actually is. To even climb between those ropes takes a mental fortitude most of us will never understand.
For a long time Andrew Golota has been a verbal whipping boy for me. But no longer. That look in his eyes was just too sad in the end. I still find it astonishing that anyone could possibly be surprised at what happened on Saturday because it was simply inevitable, but I personally don’t harbor any resentment towards a fighter I once denigrated unmercifully. He climbed through those ropes. At least this time he kept getting up. It was as if, in his panic, he knew he couldn’t run anymore.
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