There is a certain kind of boxer that matchmakers are wise to avoid when picking opponents for their fighters. He is usually a southpaw (though not always) and is defined as awkward (meaning that even if your guy beats him, he might not look great doing it). On top of that, this fighter is the kind of guy who is known and appreciated usually only by hardcore boxing heads, and will have trouble drawing much interest (or selling many tickets) to those outside the cognoscenti.
One such fighter that comes to mind is the light-heavyweight Isaac Chilemba. Another, and one I think is long overdue for a title shot, is Luis “King Kong” Ortiz.
I understand the arguments against giving the slick Cuban heavyweight his shot at either Deontay Wilder (who ex-heavyweight champ Shannon Briggs hilariously refers to as Beyonce Wilder) or a crack at the now-proven world-class superstar Anthony Joshua. The thinking is that Luis Ortiz tested positive for a banned substance in the past, and that he was involved in one of the worst stinkers/non-starters in recent memory, against Malik “King” Scott.
To address those arguments each in their turn, when Luis Ortiz tested positive for Nandrolone, his attorney pointed out that Ortiz could have showed signs of the hormone in his system after consuming horsemeat. A lot of people laughed this explanation off as B.S. (or perhaps horsesh**), but it is more plausible than it seems at first glance. It’s known that certain steroids and growth hormones that are banned in the U.S. can potentially be used in carne de vaca that ends up served in dishes south of the border, and that the Cuban dish Tasajo uses horse meat in traditional preparations means Ortiz could have consumed hormone-infused meat unawares.
The consumption of horseflesh is taboo in America (though there are slaughterhouses where horse is prepared for export) and it’s possible that Ortiz found himself in a catch-22 situation when he tested positive for a banned substance. If he explained that he had in fact eaten horsemeat, he would perhaps have found himself violating other local, state, and federal statues (and even international laws if the meat made its way through the well-worn, backdoor channels between Cuba and Florida). In other words, the only way to prove he hadn’t used a banned substance would have been to incriminate himself in other ways.
Horsemeat aside, a lot of those people inclined to view Luis Ortiz as the most avoided, least-mentioned man in heavyweight boxing seemed to jump ship after “King Kong’s” lackluster outing against perennial contender/gatekeeper Malik Scott. For those who didn’t see the match (or those who did and wish they could erase its stain from their memory) the fight was one of the most bizarre, pathetic displays since Oliver McCall had a nervous breakdown in his rematch with Lennox Lewis in 1997.
Malik Scott seemed to be in survival mode from the staredown, even before the fight began. The referee for the bout actually had to stop the boxers in the middle of the first round to protest the lack of action. Malik didn’t so much work off the backfoot as behave as if he was fighting against a treadmill set at an incline, running whenever Ortiz got close to him (even though Ortiz did a beautiful job of cutting off the ring).
When Luis Ortiz did get in close enough to work, Scott hit the canvas preemptively, practicing, it seemed, to be knocked out in the later rounds. Luis Ortiz did manage to put the skittish Scott down in the fourth round. Scott should have been counted out while down, but he was given the benefit of a long count (fourteen seconds, according to the commentators on-hand that evening). Scott was knocked down a second time later in the bout and claimed he’d been hit with rabbit punches (he hadn’t). When he wasn’t complaining to the ref or working his bicycle to put Lance Armstrong to shame, Malik Scott was sticking out his tongue, grinning, and continuing to spoil and, as the old timers say, stink up the joint.
There were more boos than cheers throughout the proceedings, and everyone, including the boxers, seemed relieved when the night was over. Luis Ortiz can be a masterful counterpuncher, but Scott just didn’t punch enough to give Ortiz anything to counter.
The fight left a bad taste in the mouths of many fans who remembered that Deontay Wilder had KO’d Malik Scott in one round with a shotgun right that didn’t land flush but got the job done, coming right behind a lead left hook. Some fans claim Scott took a dive against the Bronze Bomber, but, as anyone who has tried to relitigate the notorious “phantom punch” in Ali-Liston II knows, these kinds of debates are a waste of time and they start more arguments than they settle. No one but Malik Scott knows whether he just felt like laying there against Deontay Wilder, or if he was in fact genuinely buzzed.
The point is that (to borrow from the old-timers again), it takes two to tango, and if a veteran with as much experience as Malik Scott was dead-set on merely surviving against Ortiz for twelve rounds, Luis Ortiz doesn’t deserve the blame for the stinker that resulted. His subsequent engagement with David the “White Rhino” Allen proved that when his opponent comes to fight, Luis Ortiz is still a compelling boxer with a ton of power, a solid chin, a merciless uppercut, a radar for puncturing a tight guard, and deceptive speed. He is in possession of the tools to trouble the sleep of any of his fellow heavyweights in the top ten.
Having said all that, will he get his chance, or will savvy matchmakers continue to protect their investments by refusing to so much as say his name? Addressing this question is important, since it highlights that fine line between a promoter/trainer protecting the health of their fighter, and hurting their man’s reputation by giving the impression that he is ducking. Legendary trainer Cus D’Amato did everything in his power to make sure Floyd Patterson steered clear of Charles “Sonny” Liston, and when Patterson kept pestering D’Amato to make the fight and Cus obliged, the wisdom of D’Amato’s council was born out in two brutal back-to-back KOs for Patterson.
Some allege that Mayweather’s camp did everything in their power to avoid Antonio Margarito, and, considering what we later discovered about the plaster of Paris eventually found in El Tornado’s wraps, that also looks like wise council in retrospect.
Put yourself in the shoes of an Eddie Hearn, promoting an Anthony Joshua for a moment: Remember, as HBO’s Larry Merchant once pointed out, that boxing is the sport and prizefighting is the business. If you have a fighter in your stable who can sell out Wembley Stadium (and force it to up its capacity from 80,000 to 90,000 for an event), you not only want to protect the viability of your fighter as a beloved champion, but you want to make sure that his opponent is also going to be a big draw in the event that he pulls off the upset and you get a chance to perhaps poach the winner and market him (Don King was famous for this strategy, but he didn’t invent it and he wasn’t the last to employ it).
Some fighters are so famous that they can sell out a venue regardless of the B-Side involved. Not to take anything away from Liam Smith, but Canelo Alvarez is such a beloved son of Mexico that he could have packed Cowboys Stadium fighting against an unnamed opponent in his September 2016 matchup with “Beefy” Smith. People were paying to see Canelo, just as the English pay to see Anthony Joshua in action. They’re less likely to pay to see Luis Ortiz.
For matchmakers, Luis Ortiz is high-risk, and low reward. He is a southpaw, a Cuban fighter with a deep amateur pedigree, and a tricky style. He hasn’t beaten any world-beaters, though he has been knocking on their doors now for awhile, and he has slain most of the credible opposition that has been put in front of him (aside from Malik Scott and the stain of a couple of “No Contests”). He gets some criticism for sometimes looking out of shape, but sources who know him say he trains hard, and prizefighting is not a beauty contest. Ortiz has correctly decided that it’s more important how he feels than how he looks, and it makes no sense for a heavyweight to drain himself or dry himself out coming into a fight.
Men who are seemingly fat can be lethally quick, as anyone who has watched James “Lights Out” Toney can attest. One fan even quipped of Toney, “The fatter he got, the better he got.”
If, say, Anthony Joshua were to give Luis Ortiz his chance, or the workings of fate were to make Ortiz his mandatory, and if Ortiz were to win (a big “if” since Joshua now has to be considered battle-tested and world-class, post-Klitschko), then AJ would see his boxing star diminished, and a man who could easily clear a live gate of seven million pounds would be dethroned by a man who has a hard time packing a casino to capacity.
For Luis Ortiz, the comparison with fellow Cuban Guillermo Rigondeux is apt; both men have incredible skillsets but a diminishing number of platforms or chances to show what they can do at the elite level. That Luis Ortiz is in his late thirties only means his situation is even more critical.
If he cannot get Anthony Joshua in the ring within the next two years, and if Deontay Wilder swerves him, his best chance to make a claim for a belt may be against the winner of Joseph Parker and Hughie Fury’s WBO showdown. Of course, any fight that features a man with the last name Fury may get sidelined due to injury, legal issues, negotiation breakdowns, or general insanity, and if that happens before September, the WBO should make Ortiz a late substitution for Fury.
I’d like to see it happen, but if it doesn’t, it would be hard to blame any champ for not wanting to wager their strap against Luis Ortiz. Despite his many detractors, my gut tells me that the reason many people avoid Ortiz has less to do with his positive test for a banned substance almost three years ago and more to do with the intimidation factor. Luis “King Kong” Ortiz is simply (to quote David Allen) “a scary mother**cker” who “knows too much.” The combination of skill and the sheer intimidation factor are psychologically overwhelming. Watching him in a staredown (especially against Malik Scott), his eyes seem to bore into his opponent and turn their spine to meringue (regarding the Scott fight, I haven’t seen someone that frightened, that defeated before the bell rang, since Mike Tyson annihilated Michael Spinks).
One small anecdote about Ortiz sticks out from an interview he did awhile back, in which he explained his defection from Cuba to America by saying that his daughter needed higher-quality medical care, and that he fought to make a better life for him and his child. I thought that was sweet of him. A moment later when Ortiz said his daughter was forced to lose a finger and he asked the doctor to cut off one of his own fingers so that he would match his daughter, I thought that was poignant, but also more than little frightening.
Imagine for a moment having to fight someone with that mentality, and it becomes a little easier to understand why no one is in a hurry to fight King Kong, even an ageing version of him.