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Long Beach Press Telegram
Young boxer battles odds
By Doug Krikorian
Sports Columnist
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
They're staging a sham of a fistic attraction Saturday night at
Staples Centers when they're squeezing one final paycheck out of a
battered relic named Julio Cesar Chavez, depending, of course, if the
ancient warrior who should have retired 10 years ago is able to rouse
himself out of bed in time for his engagement against the equally
ravaged Ivan Robinson.
Still, for those planning to squander their money on watching such an
ugly spectacle live, it's recommended here you show up early for a
four-round undercard match featuring 19-year-old Vanes Martirosyan, an
Armenia-born, America-raised middleweight who represented the United
States in the Athens Olympics in the 152-pound weight class and who
just might be the brightest young prospect in Bob Arum's Top Rank
stable.
"Julio is the past and Vanes is the future," said Arum's colorful
majordomo, Bill (Bozo) Caplan, as he presided over a recent press
luncheon for Martirosyan at an Armenian restaurant in Glendale. "Just
look at the kid. He's as tall and handsome as Oscar De La Hoya. He's
smart. He's articulate. He's dedicated his entire life to boxing. He
won't even go out with girls, even though they come after him in
droves."
But can Vanes Martirosyan fight?
"Definitely," says Caplan, who's paid to utter optimistic spiels about
Top Rank's fighters.
But, apparently, from all those slightly less biased observers who
have seen Martirosyan in action, he definitely has the potential to
one day be a force in a sport that hasn't exactly been dominated by
men of his heritage.
His father, Norik Martirosyan, a former fighter himself whose career
came to an end after losing a hand in a grenade accident while in the
Armenian Army, steered his son into the sport at age 7 and he's been
heavily involved in it ever since, compiling an impressive 120-10,
80-KO amateur record that included a decision loss during the Athens
Olympics to the eventual gold medal winner, Cuba's Lorenzo Aragon.
There have been a handful of Armenian fighters to have emerged out of
the old Soviet Union and done well, but none ever has made a serious
impact in this country.
The record book shows that the third victory in Rocky Marciano's
career was a one-round knockout of Harry Balzerian in Providence,
R.I. On Aug. 25, 1959, I was at the Fresno Memorial Auditorium to see
the former middle champion, Carl (Bobo) Olson, pound someone named
George Kartalian into submission in five rounds. The famous Las Vegas
financier, Kirk Kerkorian, was an exceptional amateur fighter and his
late brother Nish Kerkorian became a professional heavyweight of small
regard.
My father was a fight aficionado, and my earliest recollection of the
sport was listening to Don Dunphy on the radio describe a Joe Louis
title bout against Ezzard Charles. We never missed the Wednesday and
Friday night fights on TV. The first athletic equipment he bought me
wasn't a glove, or a bat, or a football, or a basketball. It was a
pair of boxing gloves, and I used them often as a kid mixing it up
with my cousins and neighborhood friends.
During my high school days, there were many unsanctioned matches in my
backyard, and I actually took up boxing on a more serious level later
at the Westminster Boxing Gym under the tutelage of the late Noe Cruz,
who trained Carlos Palomino.
I enjoyed every aspect of it except one getting hit. I never got
accustomed to that uncomfortable part, and, quite frankly, don't
understand how any of those who earn a living from the pursuit do.
"The key to boxing is to avoid getting hit, and I think I'm pretty
good at that," says Martirosyan. "But even when I have been hit, it
doesn't bother me. I've never been down once in my life, nor have I
ever been seriously hurt."
Vanes Martirosyan is an exceedingly handsome fellow with matinee idol
features, and his face is remarkably unlined for a someone who has
been boxing for 12 years. If it weren't for a widened nose that
displays the telltale signs of being violated by punches, Martirosyan
easily could be mistaken for an aspiring actor instead of a fighter.
"I'll get the nose fixed after I retire," he says.
That might not be for a long time because Martirosyan and his backers
he's managed by the former rock promoter Shelly Finkel think his
destiny will be to win the middleweight championship.
"I want to win it for America, the country that has given my family
and me so many opportunities, and Armenia, where I was born," says
Martirosyan, who, naturally, resides with his family in Glendale,
along with 50,000 other Armenians.
He has become a hero in the close-knit community, and is a constant
presence on the three local Armenian TV stations.
"People come up to me all the time and say how proud they are of what
I've achieved," says Martirosyan. "I'll be walking down the street,
and people drive by in their cars and honk their horns."
All the adulation, of course, will end if Vanes Martirosyan doesn't
fulfill expectations, which is a distinct possibility because few
fighters do.
But maybe Vanes Martirosyan might turn out to be one of the rarities.
After all, he doesn't smoke drink, or carouse, trains zealously,
listens attentively to his veteran trainer Freddie Roach, and resists
the temptations to date the many young girls who have made themselves
available to him.
"The women can wait," he says. "My life is all boxing now. I still
have so much to learn. But I have time."
Time is an ally when you're a mere 19.
But that will become irrelevant on those upcoming occasions when Vanes
Martirosyan begins stepping into the ring against sterner competition,
because the only ally he will have then is himself and his ability to
hand out punishment and his willingness to take it.
"I'm going to be the middleweight champion one day," he says softly
without bravado.
It's words I've heard often across the years from so many fighters on
the way up, but words that, alas, seldom turn out to be true for those
many scarred young souls on their downward spiral.
The McDonnell-Douglas Show, featuring Press-Telegram columnist Doug
Krikorian and radio personality Joe McDonnell, can be heard Monday
through Friday between 4 p.m. and 7 p.m. on ESPN radio, KSPN 710 AM
Young boxer battles odds
By Doug Krikorian
Sports Columnist
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
They're staging a sham of a fistic attraction Saturday night at
Staples Centers when they're squeezing one final paycheck out of a
battered relic named Julio Cesar Chavez, depending, of course, if the
ancient warrior who should have retired 10 years ago is able to rouse
himself out of bed in time for his engagement against the equally
ravaged Ivan Robinson.
Still, for those planning to squander their money on watching such an
ugly spectacle live, it's recommended here you show up early for a
four-round undercard match featuring 19-year-old Vanes Martirosyan, an
Armenia-born, America-raised middleweight who represented the United
States in the Athens Olympics in the 152-pound weight class and who
just might be the brightest young prospect in Bob Arum's Top Rank
stable.
"Julio is the past and Vanes is the future," said Arum's colorful
majordomo, Bill (Bozo) Caplan, as he presided over a recent press
luncheon for Martirosyan at an Armenian restaurant in Glendale. "Just
look at the kid. He's as tall and handsome as Oscar De La Hoya. He's
smart. He's articulate. He's dedicated his entire life to boxing. He
won't even go out with girls, even though they come after him in
droves."
But can Vanes Martirosyan fight?
"Definitely," says Caplan, who's paid to utter optimistic spiels about
Top Rank's fighters.
But, apparently, from all those slightly less biased observers who
have seen Martirosyan in action, he definitely has the potential to
one day be a force in a sport that hasn't exactly been dominated by
men of his heritage.
His father, Norik Martirosyan, a former fighter himself whose career
came to an end after losing a hand in a grenade accident while in the
Armenian Army, steered his son into the sport at age 7 and he's been
heavily involved in it ever since, compiling an impressive 120-10,
80-KO amateur record that included a decision loss during the Athens
Olympics to the eventual gold medal winner, Cuba's Lorenzo Aragon.
There have been a handful of Armenian fighters to have emerged out of
the old Soviet Union and done well, but none ever has made a serious
impact in this country.
The record book shows that the third victory in Rocky Marciano's
career was a one-round knockout of Harry Balzerian in Providence,
R.I. On Aug. 25, 1959, I was at the Fresno Memorial Auditorium to see
the former middle champion, Carl (Bobo) Olson, pound someone named
George Kartalian into submission in five rounds. The famous Las Vegas
financier, Kirk Kerkorian, was an exceptional amateur fighter and his
late brother Nish Kerkorian became a professional heavyweight of small
regard.
My father was a fight aficionado, and my earliest recollection of the
sport was listening to Don Dunphy on the radio describe a Joe Louis
title bout against Ezzard Charles. We never missed the Wednesday and
Friday night fights on TV. The first athletic equipment he bought me
wasn't a glove, or a bat, or a football, or a basketball. It was a
pair of boxing gloves, and I used them often as a kid mixing it up
with my cousins and neighborhood friends.
During my high school days, there were many unsanctioned matches in my
backyard, and I actually took up boxing on a more serious level later
at the Westminster Boxing Gym under the tutelage of the late Noe Cruz,
who trained Carlos Palomino.
I enjoyed every aspect of it except one getting hit. I never got
accustomed to that uncomfortable part, and, quite frankly, don't
understand how any of those who earn a living from the pursuit do.
"The key to boxing is to avoid getting hit, and I think I'm pretty
good at that," says Martirosyan. "But even when I have been hit, it
doesn't bother me. I've never been down once in my life, nor have I
ever been seriously hurt."
Vanes Martirosyan is an exceedingly handsome fellow with matinee idol
features, and his face is remarkably unlined for a someone who has
been boxing for 12 years. If it weren't for a widened nose that
displays the telltale signs of being violated by punches, Martirosyan
easily could be mistaken for an aspiring actor instead of a fighter.
"I'll get the nose fixed after I retire," he says.
That might not be for a long time because Martirosyan and his backers
he's managed by the former rock promoter Shelly Finkel think his
destiny will be to win the middleweight championship.
"I want to win it for America, the country that has given my family
and me so many opportunities, and Armenia, where I was born," says
Martirosyan, who, naturally, resides with his family in Glendale,
along with 50,000 other Armenians.
He has become a hero in the close-knit community, and is a constant
presence on the three local Armenian TV stations.
"People come up to me all the time and say how proud they are of what
I've achieved," says Martirosyan. "I'll be walking down the street,
and people drive by in their cars and honk their horns."
All the adulation, of course, will end if Vanes Martirosyan doesn't
fulfill expectations, which is a distinct possibility because few
fighters do.
But maybe Vanes Martirosyan might turn out to be one of the rarities.
After all, he doesn't smoke drink, or carouse, trains zealously,
listens attentively to his veteran trainer Freddie Roach, and resists
the temptations to date the many young girls who have made themselves
available to him.
"The women can wait," he says. "My life is all boxing now. I still
have so much to learn. But I have time."
Time is an ally when you're a mere 19.
But that will become irrelevant on those upcoming occasions when Vanes
Martirosyan begins stepping into the ring against sterner competition,
because the only ally he will have then is himself and his ability to
hand out punishment and his willingness to take it.
"I'm going to be the middleweight champion one day," he says softly
without bravado.
It's words I've heard often across the years from so many fighters on
the way up, but words that, alas, seldom turn out to be true for those
many scarred young souls on their downward spiral.
The McDonnell-Douglas Show, featuring Press-Telegram columnist Doug
Krikorian and radio personality Joe McDonnell, can be heard Monday
through Friday between 4 p.m. and 7 p.m. on ESPN radio, KSPN 710 AM