The Rumble is back up. Lot of problems over there last week, as I’m sure many of you saw. The Sporting News server has been crashing regularly and taking down all of their sites. But thankfully, it’s back up and running just in time for fight week. Just a reminder to all you Masians – all of our usual big-fight business will be going down over there, including the prognog and accompanying contest.

One more word – while we’re all going apeshit over May/Marquez, our man Kurt is headed over to Germany to watch his fighter, Giovanni Lorenzo, fight Sebastian Sylvester (one of the worst two-first-name names I ever did hear) for the vacant IBF middleweight strap. Let’s wish Kurt and Giovanni well and hope they come home with the belt in tow. For those of you who missed it, here’s my interview with Kurt from the summer of 2008 about the arc of Giovanni’s career.

About seven years ago, I went to an auction at Sotheby’s and saw a photograph by Flip Schulke of Muhammad Ali,then Cassius Clay,in the Miami years before the first Liston fight. It was the only boxing photo in a large lot of photographs that had nothing to do with sport, so of course it immediately caught my eye. This was before Corbis and Getty had put their archives online and therefore before I had spent countless hours looking at old pictures of Ali. I had never seen images from that moment before. Clay was skinny and young, unmarked by the battles to come and full of the electricity of knowing how good you are before you’ve had a chance to prove it. In the photo, taken in Angelo Dundee’s 5th Street Gym in Miami, Clay’s side-stretching, hands behind his head as he leans left, eyes tracking the camera. He’s wearing a t-shirt that says Cassius Clay,in a Coca-Colaish font where a script C with a long tail stands in for the first letter of Cassius and Clay. Confronted by such beauty, I could only think one thing: I need that mother——- t-shirt.

I didn’t know it then, but that thought would come to define my working life. As I’m happy to recount to anyone with a passing interest and a spare hour and a half, I remade the shirt for myself, but the reaction it got when I wore it made clear I wasn’t the only one who needed that t-shirt or who wanted to talk about boxing, racial politics in the 60s, the beauty of hand-lettered fonting, or the night Cassius Clay ’shook up the world” with a stunning victory and a sudden change of names. I showed the Cassius Clay shirt to my friend Isa Salaabi, who would later become a founding partner of the brand Nom de Guerre but at that time, owned Isa, a store on North sixth street between Berry and Wythe in Williamsburg. Isa was the first store that I had ever seen sell the now ubiquitous mix of rare sneakers and rarer t-shirts, and it gave me a context for how the Cassius Clay shirt should be presented and sold. When I made the next batch of shirts, I had the American Apparel tags cut out and a brand name screenprinted into the inside of the neck in engraver’s old English. No Mas was born.

The problem,especially as I got more serious over the years about pursuing No Mas as a business as well as a calling,was that this touching story of sporting passion finding its perfect outlet was also a clear admission of trademark and right of publicity infringement on exactly the man to whom I wanted to pay tribute. I had and made some justifications, but while for other shirts arguments of parody or political speech rang true, as time passed I knew very clearly that the Cassius Clay was a straight up bootleg. So was the photo on the hangtag that came with it,scanned from a dog-earred copy of Flip Schulke’s book of Ali photographs: ‘The Birth of a Legend, Miami, 1961-1964”.

Last month, Rob Walker did a story in the New York Times magazine about how I went from making unlicensed Cassius Clay t-shirts to licensed Cassius Clay t-shirts, which was also, of course, the story of how my dream finally came true. Those events and their chronicling have been amazing developments for me and for No Mas in all sorts of ways, but maybe the most important was to reconnect me with my original mission. As has now been revealed to me, it wasn’t only to make and sell Cassius Clay t-shirts, it was to honor the sources of my inspiration,both the man and the photograph.

So there is a coda to Rob Walker’s story. He received an email from Gary Truman of The Flip Schulke Archive complaining of the unauthorized use of that same picture of Cassius Clay side-stretching. As an illustration for an interview I had done for his web site a couple years ago, I had given him a scan of the image and he had posted it along with the interview. Now Gary Truman was asking him to take it down. Through my friend Steve Coe at Worn Free, my partner in the licensed Ali t-shirt enterprise, we had licensed a different image of Ali at the fifth street gym in Miami wearing the same Cassius Clay shirt (seems like Muhammad, like me, liked to wear that shirt a few days in a row). I had let Steve handle that side of things,both because he’s more experienced with image licensing and because I knew I had some unauthorized usage skeletons in my Flip Schulke closet. But when Rob forwarded me the note from Truman, I realized this was my chance to come all the way clean, and I jumped. I wrote an email to The Schulke Archive copping a plea,confessing my past usage and offering to make right on it the same way I had with Muhammad Ali Enterprises, paying a back royalty and working out a fair rate moving forward. I am happy to report that Gary Truman and the Schulke family accepted my offer. And that brings my Cassius Clay Confidential to a happy and tidy close.

But fortunately for my fellow pugilist-legalists, my adventures in licensing have only just begun. There are more past wrongs to right, t-shirts to make, and athletic legends to stalk. As the journey continues, you’ll get the skinny straight from the horse’s mouth in semi-regular installments right here on No Mas and in simulcast at our new frequency The Rumble. And if anyone has a hot tip on an old t-shirt that needs remaking, I know how to take care of my sources and you know where to find me.

Dear No Masians:

Big news. You might want to sit down for this.

No Mas and The Sporting News are partnering on a new website dedicated to both boxing and MMA to be called “The Rumble.” Below you can see the masthead, and if you want a more detailed view, you can just go on over to the actual site and take a gander.

There are a lot of kinks still to be ironed out, and we haven’t started publishing there yet, but the plan is that we’re going to get it up and running with content this week and then launch it officially and publicize next week in time for the pre-May/Marquez and UFC 103 festivities.

We have a distinguished crew of writers who will be joining us. The great I-berg has agreed to a contract that binds him to write at least twice a week – for those of you who are unaware of this fact, Sir I-bergs-a-Lot was quite the writer back in the day, pimping his wares to Details, the NY Times, the Voice, and, of course his spiritual home, Playboy. He hasn’t banged the keyboard with any regularity since he took it upon himself to become a multi-media entertainment mogul, but for The Rumble he’s agreed to take it back (doo doo doo doo), take it back like before…

Morty Bravo, another No Mas alum who has been heard from all too infrequently, is on the roster as well, penning himself into the batting order under the bizarre nom de plume “Bud Schmeling.” Our new star signing, Shoefly, is a linchpin of the squad, hitting cleanup and playing first base. Out in the outfield, we have a crack crew of recent acquisitions, MMA guys who are ready to blow your minds with various arm-bars and choke-holds and whatnot. I know many of you Masians will be skipping those posts, but for those of you who won’t, you will not be disappointed, because for the first time in our history the Mas is going to fulfill its promise of showing mixed martial arts the love it deserves.

Last but not least, on the mound, wearing number 32, it’s…. Steve Large-lton. I’m excited about this site for a lot of reasons – it’s a great platform for the Mas, allows us to assimilate a lot of things we’re doing in different places in one site that connects with a wider audience and gives the No Mas brand a primo affiliation with a bedrock sports brand like The Sporting News. But most of all I’m excited that this is going to allow me to do my daily boxing writing and prognostificating in one spot, and devote myself to that enterprise. In one way, this is a new site, but for me it more feels like I’m finally going to be able to write for No Mas full-time, which has been a fantasy of mine for a while now.

Sadly, the Mas as we know it will not continue. We’ll maintain a blog here for information related to No Mas happenings and non-boxng/MMA sports stuff that we’re doing. But the Mas blog as it has been will be subsumed by The Rumble. Though I think The Rumble is going to be everything the No Mas blog is and more, I admit that fact gives me pause. This has been a special place for me for a few years now, a place where we made the rules, preached it like we felt it, and built a small but to my mind incredibly rich, varied and high-minded community of which I’m proud to be a member.

All I can say is that it is our intention to thoroughly maintain our integrity at the new site. The Sporting News essentially has turned The Rumble over to us editorially. We still make the rules, and I think you’ll see that right from the get-go in the aesthetic of the page. We won’t be swearing over there (which is going to be kind of a pain to be honest, because it is very hard to write or talk about the sport of boxing without using the word, “motherfucker” – just ask Manny Steward or Roger Mayweather about that – I can just heard Rog’s reply – “motherfucker what?”) and there will be some new, young cats up in the crib doing their MMA thing, but otherwise, the scene will be Masian through and through. Along with everything else that we hope to bring with us over there, first and foremost is the respectful, insightful and unfailingly engaged tone of our debates and the like-minded spirit of our readers. On that front, let me say that I sincerely hope all you dudes will be the flagship members who lead the way for what is likely to become a much larger community. Because youse guys are the straws that stir the No Mas drink.

There will be new posts at The Rumble all this week as you dip our feet in to the deep end, so please check it out and let me know your thoughts. I’ll keep you posted on any other details.

Much love,
Large

Click here to check it out, and if you’re interested in the behind the scenes read on after the jump.

I met Ben ten years ago in WIlliamsburg and we’ve been friends and poker rivals since. In the last year and a half No Mas has begun to produce shortform sports documentary video. As part of our “Undercard” series we’ve been chronicling the rise of Tor Hamer, a heavyweight with an unusual pedigree for a fighter–private high school in New York City and a degree from Penn State. I love the intimate feel of the gritty one camera shorts we’ve been producing ourselves, but I was curious about what a more experienced director, armed with some more production resources could do with such a fascinating subject.

I immediately thought of Ben and he said he would be down to do it as long he got complete access to Tor around the fight. With the blessing of promoter Lou DiBella and Tor’s permission we got total entrée. Ben brought in the amazing Darren Lew as the director of photography, and our own Nick Strini ran the two camera. We shot the whole piece in 24 hours, visiting Tor the night before the fight, spending the day at his house, traveling down to BB King’s, waiting with him in the dressing room in the final anxious moments before the fight, getting our cameras right up on the ring apron for the knockout, and witnessing the post-fight celebrations.

Ben tapped phenom editor Zac Stuart-Pontier to help him put the piece together and the results as you can see for yourself were amazing (our friend Jason Mcdonald’s incredible photos found a home in the end credits).

We showed the finished product to Playboy editor Jimmy Jellinek, who had also commissioned our piece on Dominican prospect impresario Edgar Mercedes. Jellinek loved it and picked up “Hammer of Tor” to run on Playboy.com’s new reportage section–Dossier.

All in all, an amazing experience and a landmark moment for No Mas and NoMasTV.

Thank you and congratulations to those mentioned above and everyone else who helped make it happen (full credits are at the end of the video).

I can’t help it, I kind of like Paulie Malignaggi. When I first started watching him he was enjoyable as a cartoon heel, a fun guy to root against. His fast-talking, guido, frost-tipped, metrosexual act made him eminently loathable. His fighting style is unattractive; a retreating, jabbing, clowning, and spoiling mush that can be borderline painful. He seemed a mockery of the slick African-American fighting tradition mixed with the righteous indignation and attitude I most prefer.

But he took his two beatings , from Cotto and Hatton , like a man and I started to warm a little. And Saturday’s fight against Juan Diaz was one to remember.

Now, first, let me say the cries of robbery seem a little overstated to me. I didn’t keep score, but I had the general feeling the fight was a pick’em with enough close rounds that it wouldn’t be a tragedy either way. Of course, I also knew who the HBO kept boy was and, as such, had no doubt that Diaz would be the winner.

I also wonder how much the announcers influenced the perception of the scoring of the fight. I don’t think they were biased, but the BAD team certainly has a different philosophical viewpoint than Lampley/Merchant, who prefer ineffective aggression above all else. If they had been on the microphone I’m almost sure we’d have heard one of Lampley’s classic, ‘you can’t tell which punches are landing, but you can see who’s coming forward and throwing the harder shots.” Yeah, that 118-110 scorecard was awful, but forgive me if this isn’t the fight I choose to ring the unquenchable gong of injustice over.

Which is not to say that the game isn’t rigged and the fix isn’t in, as Malignaggi claimed. Paulie should know this quite well, considering he has been the recipient of two controversial decisions against visiting African fighters; the all-time leaders in scorecard screw-jobs.

Still, I loved his performance in the postfight. Not that it wasn’t a little whinging, but the speeded-out talking style and righteous fury was winning. The best thing about boxing is that it’s so clear that it means something to the athletes because the stakes are so high. Malignaggi let loose with a torrent of regret and anger that was childlike and primal. It was ethnic and personal and entirely out of control. It was the type of interview that would get an athlete suspended interminably from any of the major sports; eccentric, paranoid, uncouth, homophonic, and despairing.

I loved it. You got to see the underlying fragility of the man’s journey into the ring. What an act of faith it must be to step under those lights if you’re a guy like Malignaggi. He couldn’t kill a fly with his best punch but he toes the line with monsters and hard men. He enters the ring a lion tamer with no whip; and you could see the barely contained faith slip through. ‘I managed the ring of fire and all I got was this lousy T-shirt!” Or more accurately, ‘I’m mad as hell, and I’m not gonna take it anymore!”

The thing that makes boxing great is that a fighter can say these things and get away with it. That Floyd can give an interview on Bossip and not have to bow and scrape and issue a heartfelt apology in the commissioner’s office. It’s the badlands out there; the last generation of gunfighters , lawless and without center.

The converse of this radical freedom, of course, is the first part, the screw-job. There is no fair shake, there is no underlying structure. There are simply giant cracks that allow us to walk along the edge with the unhinged, to get a closer look at the real than is possible in all other sports. It’s the thin line of the unmanageable, why weather patterns are more interesting than planetary orbits. People are always claiming boxing needs to get organized and clean, but I hope it never happens, because the cracks are how the light gets in.

No Mas’s agency side Office of AIR is now the agency of record for Everlast, and we’ve been working with them on videos to promote their new fight gloves. Historically they’ve only ever offered one fight glove but this year they introduced “The MX”, a made in Mexico punchers glove that compares favorably to Reyes, and the Protex 3. The Protex offers the kind of protection a volume puncher with fragile hands might be looking for, and Paulie, apparently consulted on its development.

Check the video below, wherein Paulie waffles on whether he’ll use the Protex 3 or the less padded Mexican. The glove he comes out in tonight may offer an early clue on his fight strategy.

btw, last few months have been crazy for me between getting married and the amazing things happening at The Mas (more to come on that soon). But I’m concerned I may have stiffed a couple contest winners. If you won and haven’t received your gear yet, please leave a comment below or get in touch direct if you have my email. Good luck tonight and congratulations to KRONK’s Andy Lee who we shot last night for The Undercard. 8th round TKO in Indiana.

posted by Shoefly

There’s losing, there’s losing by knockout, and then there’s losing by beating. The type of grueling, pounding, and unmanning hurt they don’t tell you about when you first walk into the gym; the sort of hiding a proud kid who always got his way could never imagine. I’m thinking here of a fight like Calzhage/Lacy. A man enters the ring as a champion and exits a bruise on legs.

I generally think the modern obsession with a fighter being damaged and faded following a loss is unhelpful and inaccurate, but when a boxer receives the deep hurt it’s impossible not to look for signs of a changed man.

And that’s what Saturday’s Diaz/Malignaggi fight is really about; how much of Juan Diaz is left? Did the great Juan Manual Marquez knock something essential loose when he ripped two-dozen of the most lovely uppercuts you’re likely to see into the younger man? It was a terrific fight, one of those classic encounters that are so familiar across the course of boxing history; the young lion vs. the old champ, the reckless pressure fighter vs. the counterpunching genius.

Diaz did very well early, walking through some good work by Marquez and scoring with his volume punching, particularly the left hook. But they don’t make many like ‘Dynamita,” and as the fight progressed he started taking control. Diaz only knows one way to win, and he kept moving forward and eating clean punches until he couldn’t any longer. It was systematic, comprehensive, and frighteningly violent. Diaz is a tough kid, only 25 years old, but there’s something magical and fleeting that exists within the special prizefighters, and we need to find if he still has that spark.

Across from him stands Paulie Malignaggi, himself the recipient of one of the most notable beatings in recent years. Miguel Cotto busted Malignaggi to pieces in 2006, fracturing his jaw in a fight Paulie heroically managed to finish standing. Ricky Hatton stopped him in their fight last year, yet Paulie again showed he could take his share of hurt. But while I’ll be watching Diaz closely the difference with Malignaggi is he never had much to begin with. He has fast hands and good movement, but not the natural elusiveness of the elite slicksters. Probably the lightest punching fighter amongst the frequently televised, his fragile right hand has deteriorated over the years. He’s basically been left with a nice jab and enough style and moxie to get past the mediocrities.

While both fighters are young this is something of a deciding test for each. Malignaggi lost badly the only two times he faced class opponents, and his style is not really pleasing to anyone. If he loses another fight without offering much resistance I expect his time as a television fighter will be over. He was always more notable for his talking and persona than the quality of his boxing, but there comes a point where even the guys with personality have to deliver. For Diaz there is still hope, he has an attractive style and a nice personal story, but he has failed in his biggest tests as well. There was an expectation that he would become the next great lightweight, and now that Marquez is moving up this is his opportunity to show that he has recovered and is prepared to take his rightful place.

I think he will step up, at least for one night. If Juan Diaz still has his faculties intact he should run right through Malignaggi. There is nothing in Paulie’s arsenal that can slow him down and Diaz is not the type to be cowed by the clowning and play Malignaggi frustrates his lesser opponents with. I think the fight will last the duration, Diaz doesn’t have much power himself, but I expect him to exert control with his pressure. It’s the right fight for Diaz on his way back, the doubts should stay away when all you have to absorb is an accurate jab. I doubt Diaz will become what HBO was hoping of him, and he may have lost something that night against Marquez, but I think he’s got enough to soundly beat Malignaggi. Diaz UD Malignaggi , 118-110

Dudes, again I refer you to my piece at The Sporting Blog, which touches on a subject near and dear to our hearts, the two gigantic, rival promotions of the fall.

To which I will add that this annoying situation where I am generally writing my pieces over at TSB and then linking to them here is going to be resolved soon once and for all, and I think to everyone’s satisfaction. More on that very soon…

Mayweather/Marquez vs. Pacquiao/Cotto Could Be the Fight of 2009
“If Floyd really wants to take a sure path towards making this fight enormous, and if he wants to immediately supersede any other news that surrounds him or his camp or the fight as it is posited right now, he has it in his power to do so… All he has to do, with his inimitable gusto, is insult the honor of Mexican boxers, Mexican people, and Mexico itself. Then, oh man … then all hell would break loose.”

Gents, I bring you my recent pieces from The Sporting Blog concerning Roy Jones’ performance against Jeff Lacy (in which I pay undue attention to an aging Phillies’ pitcher of note) and also last night’s highly disappointing news that the Pavlik/Williams fight has been postponed and consequently may never happen.

Roy Jones: The Pedro Martinez of Boxing?
He was embarrassed by Calzaghe, but Calzaghe was a truly great fighter still at the peak of his powers. I couldn’t help but wonder on Saturday while I was watching Roy take Lacy apart how he would fare in Showtime’s super middleweight tournament. Of course, Roy hasn’t fought at 68 in over ten years, and it’s unlikely that he’d be inclined to go back to that weight now. But if he did … could he compete in that tournament? Could he eke out wins over the likes of Jermain and Andre Dirrell and Carl Froch?

Kelly Pavlik vs. Paul Williams Postponed, Possibly Cancelled
What’s left now is to see whether the two promoters can come to some agreement on a make-up date, which is quite a dicey proposition in the ever delicate world of boxing negotiations. There always was something about this fight that seemed too good to be true , two big, exciting fighters in their primes taking a huge risk in agreeing to face each other in a matchup that, although hotly anticipated by boxing diehards, doesn’t even have the crossover juice to warrant big-time pay-per-view money.

posted by Shoefly

I don’t believe in signs or meaning or an universal narrative arc except where myself and my inescapable impending misfortune are concerned. That said… man, it’s been a black-cat-passing-beneath-a-ladder-while-spilling-some-salt kind of summer hasn’t it? All we’ve had is painful negotiations, spoiled fights, and the lasting stink of the true violence and death that the sport is really a manifest pushing away from. It’s enough to convert even a true believer in the church of chance to doubt his own faith.

Which is why Roger Mayweather’s ’situation” has me worrying in ways that I prefer to devote toward morbid self-attention. Many dislike the Mayweathers, and I understand why, but I have always found them engaging and alive in ways that few are. They have a charm all their own, the out-sized self-love of the sociopath and the holy fool. Roger, in particular, mixes personal regard with gallows humor in a near vaudeville act that at points seems too perfect to be accidental.

“Why does Bill Gates still build them motherfuckin’ computers?”

Why indeed, Roger? Why indeed?

But this latest trouble is deeply unfunny. One doesn’t have to be a disciple of pitchfork justice to find it at best unseemly. It is the intersection of edgy entertainment with the slap of grim reality and I don’t like it one bit. Even the woman’s strange interview seems haunting and windswept and tragic:

I know people who love that show ‘Intervention,” but I have to leave the room when it’s on; my preferred form of exercise is running from reality.

But it’s not just Roger Mayweather’s difficulties which have cast a pall over Mayweather-Marquez; there is something about the fight which is starting to seem underwhelming and bound to disappoint, a joke that can’t sustain a punchline. It began as soon as the fight was made, an ambivalence from the collective boxing community that seemed to say, ‘Yeah, it’s a terrific fight, but not the right terrific fight.”

I still disagree to a certain extent. The names on the marquee are written in bold. Floyd Mayweather Jr. – Juan Manual Marquez. These are men that have done it. Two genuinely generational fighters going at it in the ring, and that’s always something to applaud. The weight is the obvious counterpoint, but neither of these guys is a bruiser. This will be one of the few fights in recent years in which Floyd has not been outweighed by opponent, and we might get a chance to see the more offensive style he employed when making his bones at 130 and 135.

I also dispute those who say Marquez is too small to hurt Floyd. Marquez may not have the same power as Mayweather’s most recent opposition, but he is the most beautiful combination puncher in the sport. He will land on Floyd – he’s too good not to. A well-placed blow from Marquez is far more intriguing than a dodged hammer from Floyd’s recent chafe. And if, by grant of talent and inspiration, Floyd does pass through untouched it will have been a worthy enterprise simply for the audacity of the display.

But while I still retain interest in the fundamentals of the match-up, it’s the peripherals that irk. The first and most important is the delay. I know it happens to even the best and most fit, but Floyd’s rib injury brings into focus that he has been out of the ring for almost two years. His maniacal training regimen may not be suited for a man who, while he’s danced through the mortal damage, did seem to be fraying at the edges when last we saw him. The hands were chronic years ago, but rib damage from sparring has the subtle smell of decay.

Which has really been brought home by Floyd’s facial appearance since his return. Pretty Boy no longer, he still has the smile, but in two years he has started to look old. Perhaps it’s just that we can now see so clearly on his newly lined face that he is truly his father’s son, but the change in his appearance is striking. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything, but not all two years are created equally. As Nate Campbell showed us last week, fighters like Bernard Hopkins are the exception. It will be a surprise if Floyd doesn’t perform well against Marquez, but I feel a lingering regret about Floyd’s hiatus that I didn’t before. He was really something special when we last saw him. A fighter fine, subtle, and rare; I fear that might be hard to recapture.

And that’s really what it’s all about. I want so much for him to be the man he was. Though I love Marquez it is really the next fight we are all waiting for. Floyd has to win and Pacquiao must as well. It’s just in the cards. Floyd’s face, his injuries, the layoff, his uncle, the weird way they won’t announce what weight the fight is at – it all seems an anxious preamble to destiny. And from Manny’s side we’ve had some niggling disappointments. While I don’t think it’s anything more than negotiations, the weight/title debate between Pacquiao and Cotto has been unflattering to both men.

I long for the happening of a truly ‘Big Fight,” a bout for the ages. There have been a few that have come close since the days of the big four, but this is the only one that has the opportunity to be a defining and shaping and real cultural event. Every bump in the road and sign of weakness makes me tremor.

I presume this is all neurosis; which boxing more than any other sport welcomes. Pacquaio/Mayweather is so monumental that it has subsumed everything else. I don’t know that I can enjoy the painful foreplay before such a giant happening and it’s making these normal nothings take on heightened meaning. One doesn’t want to squeeze the puppy so tight that we crush it, but I’m afraid that may be happening. Hopefully the first counter right will wash it all away.