That’s what I was asking myself while I was writing that Evander post. Between the Maskaev/Rahman debacle and now this Holyfield crap, seems like every other word I write these days is Kirk Freakin Johnson. So where is the motherfucker?

Kirk was one of those dudes with a ton of natural ability, a hell of a God-given body, and not a whole lot going on between his ears. Sort of like The Black Rhino, only better. He had an undistinguished campaign for Canada at the Barcelona Games and then turned pro, where he eventually made it to top-contender status. As I have pointed out a few times, he knocked out Oleg Maskaev in the fourth round of their fight in 2000. But he’s probably most famous for backing out of a title fight with Lennox in 2003 due to a training injury. He fought Vitali Klitschko instead later that year at the Garden, and got his ass beat, TKO in the 2nd. He ballooned up to 260 for that fight – in his prime he fought at 230 or so.

Boxrec tells me that he’s on the comeback trail, of sorts. Three fights in the last three years, most notably a win over Yanqui Diaz last June. Kirk, look, baby – what are you waiting for? Mediocre Soviet talents rule the heavyweights. Lose twenty pounds and get back in the game. Get that money son.

Evander Holyfield, battered and well on his way to brain-dead, returns to the ring tonight for the first time in 21 months against Jeremy “The Beast” Bates. Despite the fact that his last fight was so pathetic that New York officials revoked his license, Holyfield believes that he will once again be the undisputed heavyweight champ, a feat he expects to achieve “by the time that Olympics comes,” whatever the fuck that means.

He begins his journey back to the top against Bates, a 32-year-old meathead with a 21-12 record that includes being knocked out by every piece of lowlife crap that you can think of in the heavyweight ranks of the last ten years. Brian Minto? TKO in the 8th. Kirk Johnson? KO in the 2nd (Christ, even WBC champ Oleg Maskaev took KO Kirk to the 4th). When Evander called him to make the fight, Bates was retired and working as an insurance agent in West Virginia.

What else is there to say? Tune in tonight to The Best Damn Sports Show Period to see the Worst Damn Bullshit The Sport of Boxing Has to Offer the World. Period.

I refer you to my piece from Wednesday, July 26th, where I wrote of Brad Gilbert accepting the lowly post of Andrew Murray’s coach and then made this BOLD prediction:

“Cut to Wimbledon 2007. Murray hoisting the trophy on Centre Court, having just dispatched Federer in four…”

Murray over Fed. I saw it in the stars. It just came up a bit early on me. But people, what I’m telling you is… I got a line in the sky and it’s called radar love.

Federer’s Streak Ends (Miami Herald)
Federer’s take on upset: You can’t win ‘em all (Cincinnati Post)
Murray’s great win (BBC Sport)

On this date 68 years ago, Henry Armstrong, real name Henry Jackson, accomplished a feat that remains unmatched in boxing history, becoming world champion in three weight divisions simultaneously.

Hurricane Hank had won the featherweight crown from Petey Sarron in 1937 by way of a sixth-round knockout. Then in May of 1937, he beat another future Hall-of-Famer, Barney Ross, for the welterweight crown.

And then on August 17th, 1938, Armstrong beat Lou Ambers for the lightweight belt, becoming the first and only King of Three Divisions at Once.

He would hold on to all three belts until the following summer, when Ambers took back the lightweight title from Hank in a rematch. Armstrong would remain the welterweight king until 1940, when he was dethroned by Fritzie Sivic in the first bout of their brutal trilogy. He retired in 1945, and remains to this day in the top five of any self-respecting boxing pundit’s list of the greatest pound-for-pound fighters in history.

So says the Associated Press. I’m so glad to hear it. That’s them, actually, in that picture up there. I think they’re in Montauk:

“Flavio, do you remember-a how we-a won-a the World-a Cup-a?”
“Si , Marco, it was-a fantastico! Remember-a how-a that crazy son-of-a-gun put the headbutt-a right-a on-a your chest-a like a crazy man?”
“Si, si, Flavio, it was-a crazy! Oh this sun! Fabio, put-a some-a sunscreen-a on my shoulders-a! I’m burning up-a!”
“What do I look-a like-a, your bitch-a? Put it yourself-a, you stupid-a homo-gay-a!”

(By the way – if anybody is interested, I, too, am enjoying the summer.

Italy World Cup Players Enjoying Summer (Chicago Tribune)

The big news at this year’s PGA is the traditional opening-round threesome of the winners of the year’s three completed majors, which this year, of course, pits Masters’ winner Phil Mickelson up against his sworn enemy, British Open winner Tiger Woods (U.S. Open winner Geoff Ogilvy will presumably caddy for one of them).

In today’s news, BBC Sport has Tiger downplaying the notorious feud between the two, while the San Jose Mercury News takes us back to last year’s Presidents Cup, where Tiger and Phil evidently mixed it up in a ping-pong donnybrook for the ages.

Of course, we’re all hoping that they dispense with the table tennis niceties and just go all UFC on each other somewhere around the seventh green tomorrow, but in that this probably will not occur, we’re left to imagine the one thing that’s on every sports fan’s mind: Tiger and Phil in a fight to the death… who would stand victorious over the other’s bloody carcass, cackling his good fortune to the gods?

Mickelson, Woods are competitive on and off the green (San Jose Mercury News)
Woods plays down Mickelson feud (BBC Sport)
Woods, Mickelson share tee time and little else (NY Times)

In one of those eerie coincidinces of time across the eras, arguably the two biggest 20th-century American icons of the sports and entertainment worlds both died on this day, August 16th.

George Herman “Babe” Ruth died 58 years ago today, August 16th, 1948. He was 53 years old – the cause was cancer. Ruth hadn’t played baseball since his swan song season in 1935 with the Boston Braves. Ever since he’d spent his time drinking, playing golf, and trying to land a job as a manager in the bigs, an opportunity that never came along. The closest he ever came was a stint as a first base coach with the Dodgers in 1938. Ruth’s overall impact on professional sports in America is incalculable. When I was a toddler, my Grampa Noyes used to tell me a story about getting the Babe’s autograph at Yankee Stadium. To hear him talk, you’d think he’d seen God in the flesh.

On August 16th, 1977, the world was stunned by the news that Elvis Presley had died of a heart attack while on the toilet in his Graceland mansion. He was only 42. And so began the King’s fall from grace in the public eye, from mama-lovin’ God-fearin’ good ole boy to pill-poppin’ lardass who lived for peanut butter, karate and nowhere-near legal pussy. With everything that’s been written about him since his death, everything we’ve learned about the bizarre reclusive nightmare of his later life, it’s difficult to focus on an image of the young Elvis in our minds, the young Elvis who was really more a panther than a man. As with Ruth, it’s impossible to assess Presely’s impact on the American landscape, but I think Lester Bangs came close when he wrote this of the King’s influence on pop culture – “He changed “How much is that doggie in the window?” to “Let’s fuck.”

That, my friends, is some heavy shit.

Seems like Tony Kornheiser is getting good reviews across the board for his first outing in the Monday Night Booth last night. I’ll sign on to that. I listened to about 20 minutes of the game and Tony seemed like he was fitting in amiably. He has a little bit of the Dennis Miller problem , not that funny to begin with, he obviously thinks it’s his job to be ‘the funny guy.” And he seems a little out of his water on the football front. ‘Explain to me what a silent count is Joe.” Really?

While I had the game on, I heard him make one joke worth a minor chuckle. They were talking about Rod Smart of ‘He Hate Me” infamy, and Tirico asked Tony if he could remember what team Smart played for in the XFL. ‘I don’t know,” Kornheiser said, ‘Barcelona?”

But to me, Kornheiser isn’t the story of the booth anyway. He has a good television voice and he’ll settle into his role over the season. He’s already made the grade on PTI , the average Joes dig him, and that’s all you need to know.

And Tirico’s a pro, a solid Al Michaels stand-in. No problems there.

The story of the booth is the only ESPN holdover in the booth – Theismann. He’s unbearable, and he’s always been unbearable. Terrible voice, incessant tone of self-importance (NOBODY loves himself more than Joe Theismann), ill-timed observations, and on the whole the type of meat-headed macho badinage that makes you want to blow up every football stadium in America. He’s like the aural equivalent of an anal chug. If they want a new booth, I don’t understand why they don’t get rid of this clown who’s sucked for however long he’s been doing this shit.

Kornheiser sounds good in MNF debut (Chicago Sun-Times)
Kornheiser steals the show (LA Times)
Kornehiser era begins on MNF (Sporting News)

No Masians, I must confess, Floyd/Baldomir takes me by surprise. Rafael just announced it as a done deal on ESPN.com, set for November 4th at Mandalay Bay.

I’d read the rumors that Floyd was either going to fight Carlos “Tata” Baldomir or Cory Spinks in the fall. I’d also read that he might not fight at all, which seemed more likely to me, given the mega-million-dollar Oscar payday waiting for him next spring.

I certainly didn’t expect him to sign with Baldomir, and the fact that he did either means he’s brave or he’s stupid. And Floyd is a lot of things, but he ain’t stupid. Floyd is laying it on the line in this one, not nearly as much as he would have if he’d fought Margarito, but still, give him some respect. He could have fought another walkover and waited for the Oscar money. He saw what Baldomir did to Gatti, only a slightly worse mugging than Floyd himself gave to Gatti. And more than anything, he must have seen those bombs that Gatti was dropping on Baldomir in the first round, and what effect they had on the Argentinian – namely, none. Seems like you could hit Baldomir with a bag of anvils and he’d still keep moving forward.

Of course, that was what Gatti was supposed to do with Floyd , take his best shots, keep moving forward, wear him down with the warrior mentality. There is no wearing Floyd down , we know that much by now. And the speed differential in Floyd/Baldomir is only marginally smaller than it was in Floyd/Gatti. So make no mistake , Floyd will be the overwhelming favorite in this fight, as well he should be. But this bout has potential. Look, Baldomir shocked Zab in the Garden, and then pummeled Gatti in A.C. Now he’s headed to Vegas to fight in Floyd’s backyard. My interest is definitely piqued.

Mayweather, Baldomir to square off with title on the line (ESPN.com)

In a fight that would presage Larry Holmes’ vicious beating of Ali more than seven decades later, heavyweight champ James J. Jeffries (left in the above picture) knocked out former champ Gentleman Jim Corbett 103 years ago today, August 14th, 1903.

Like Holmes with Ali, Jeffries had once been Corbett’s sparring partner, during the Gentleman’s five-year reign as heavyweight champ in the 1890′s after taking the title from the legendary John L. Sullivan.

This was Corbett’s second attempt to win the heavyweight title back from his former sparring partner. The first was an epic contest in 1900, a fight that many thought the speedy Corbett was winning until the giant Jeffries felled him with a short left to the jaw in the 23rd round, a one-punch KO that heightened the Jeffries myth around the world.

The rematch, three years later, was not such an exciting affair. Outweighed by 30 pounds, and at 37 years old no longer so fleet of foot, Corbett was outclassed and outmuscled, dispatched easily in a tenth-round knockout. It was Gentleman Jim’s last fight, and the second to last for Jeffries before retiring with the title.

That was until, of course, Jeffries came out of retirement to fight Jack Johnson. But that’s a story for another day.