Just when Chicago’s roster of active athletic legends loses Michael Jordan, Ryne Sandberg and Mike Ditka, the pantheon is replenished by Oliver McCall. We should consider ourselves blessed.
Until the Cubs return to duty, he is this city’s most famous punching bag.
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A former sparring partner for Mike Tyson, McCall seized a portion of the heavyweight title during the wee hours of Sunday morning in London by defeating Lennox Lewis, who was an accident waiting to happen.
Clearly, McCall is the biggest thing to hit the largely dormant sport of boxing in Chicago since . . . well, since Al Bernstein, another Chicago native who also fled this precinct to become rich and famous while analyzing the sweet science for ESPN from his Las Vegas headquarters.
Until McCall’s upset victory early in the second round, he was utterly anonymous, having lost five matches, including one to James “Buster” Douglas, who then went on to stagger Tyson. Douglas has since become huge enough to apply for statehood and Tyson is in prison on a rape charge, confirming Bernstein’s premise that anybody can beat anybody.
“It’s nuts out there now,” he said. “Come to think of, it was nuts out there even before now.”
Upon entering the ring in London, McCall’s face was contorted. He had the look of a man with plumbing problems, not unusual if you’ve ever eaten what passes for meat over there. In fact, at the sound of the bell, McCall literally could not contain himself. After an active opening round, he tagged Lewis with a stinging right counter early in the second, putting the undefeated World Boxing Council champion on horizontal hold.
Lewis arose on legs like noodles and attempted to appear coherent before referee Jose Guadalupe Garcia, but the act wasn’t especially convincing. Had Garcia not been there fronting Lewis, the Brit probably would have gone down again, either of his own volition or after another punch from McCall. But Lewis, with a history of resilience, deserved the benefit of the doubt.
Naturally, controversy ensued. Garcia is from Mexico, where the WBC operates under President Jose Sulaiman, who is attached at the hip to promoter Don King, who handles McCall. This unholy alliance doesn’t negate the fact that Lewis was ripe to be beaten, sooner instead of later. Probably by Riddick Bowe, who was supposed to meet Lewis next spring. So much for that payday.
The happiest hombre in the arena, despite “dispersions on my character,” was King. Since his meal ticket, Tyson, was convicted of rape, King has been a heavyweight without a heavyweight. Lo and behold, here comes McCall. Now, says King, “there ain’t no equivocation” that McCall will meet Tyson on a date to be specified later.
“Possible,” said Bernstein. “McCall is not that bad a fighter, which is how you would characterize a lot of guys in the division since Tyson disappeared. He’s tough and he could become better now that he’s got a (championship) belt. If McCall can hang around long enough and win a few fights until Tyson is ready, it’s possible.
“Then again, you never know what Tyson will be like when he gets out of jail. He’s the one guy who could unify the heavyweights, but he was showing signs of erosion before he was put away. If he’s not what he used to be, and he runs into McCall, yes, my old hometown could have an undisputed heavyweight champion.”
Until then, McCall must wait on the fringes of Tyson’s celebrity, much as Chicagoan Ernie Terrell toiled as World Boxing Association heavyweight champion in the mid-60s while Muhammad Ali lurked. If McCall doesn’t want to be just another tomato can, he’ll have to refrain from the buffet.
Then again, there’s George Foreman, who never met a menu he didn’t like. If he can somehow survive, he could meet Tyson in what would be the box-office bonanza to end all. Ain’t no equivocation about that, either.