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'I Send the Dogs Out, and Then I Go
In'
So Larry Holmes said, and so he did, defending his
title
by Pat
Putnam
Issue date: July 2,
1979
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Holmes (left) didn't need to work this close too often, thanks to his devastating left jab.
(Manny Millan)
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The jab was a bolt of beauty, a cobra striking again and
again at the already reddened and swollen face of Mike
Weaver. It always begins this way—with the wicked jab. It
was the drum roll for another anticipated brilliant
performance by Larry Holmes,
29, the heavyweight champion of those portions of the globe
that no longer swear fealty to Muhammad
Ali.
"The jab is my dogs," a confident but troubled
Holmes had said a few hours before his WBC title defense
against Weaver last Friday night at Madison Square Garden.
"I send the dogs out, then I go
in."
Early in the first rounds the dogs were off their leads and
doing their work. Weaver, 26, an ex-Marine from Pomona,
Calif., was verifying the rumors about his abilities: he
was plodding and easy to hit. He looked every bit the
unappealing out-bet
underdog he had been labeled by the Las Vegas bookies and the New
York TV
moguls.
The crowd of 14,136, the fans who watched on closed circuit
in 45 locations, and the two million subscribers in their
living rooms who could be thankful that Home Box Office
shelled out the fire-sale price of $150,000 to buy a fight
program that the
three major networks deemed unworthy of display, warmed to the
promise of Holmes' fists.
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Weaver couldn't stand the cumulative effect of Holmes' blows.
(Manny Millan)
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After losing the first three rounds to the jab, Weaver, 13
pounds lighter that Holmes, won the next two. Sensing an
upset might be in the making, the crowd began to cheer
"WeaVER, WeaVER,
WeaVER."
"I heard them yelling for him," Holmes said
later, "but it didn't mean anything. At the time, he was
beating the hell out of me. So they yelled for him. When I
was beating the hell out of him, they was yelling for
me."
Going back to the jab, pawing at times with the right,
Holmes regained some control. He won the sixth and seventh
rounds, but he was breathing hard. He appeared to be
spent.
In the crowd, Earnie Shavers, seeing his September title
shot unexpectedly slipping away, became alarmed.
"You're messing with
my money!" he screamed at Holmes.
"I got to feed my babies. Run from him. If you can't run from
him, give me the baton and I'll get in the ring and run
from
him."
In the eighth and ninth rounds, both men, too tired to run
or give chase, battered each other about the ring. At any
moment it seemed as though one—or both—would fall from
exhaustion.
It was while trudging back to his corner at the end of the
ninth round that Holmes decided enough was enough. "I
thought about my title," he said. "And I thought
about this guy trying to take it from me. "I knew I
had made a lot of mistakes: that I had
taken him too lightly, that I should have trained a lot
harder. I decided to suck it up. If I was going to be a
champion, then, damn it, I was gonna fight like a champion.
He was gonna have to kill me to take my
title."
As the 10th round began, Holmes said to Weaver, "I'm
the champion. There's no way you're gonna beat
me."
"I'm gonna try," Weaver
answered.
They went at each other with a fury. Near the end of the
round Holmes drilled a right to Weaver's jaw and bounced
another off the top of his
head.
"Now," Holmes
thought.
He stepped in—and took a solid right on the chin that
staggered him. Reaching deeply within, Holmes remained
toe-to-toe with Weaver for the last few
seconds.
"I was scared to death," Don King, who will
promote the September fight as well, said
later.
"What the hell," said Holmes' manager and trainer
Richie Giachetti. "You think you were the only one
scared?"
The 11th round began with the crowd once more urging Weaver
to end it. One more the fighters went at each other head to
head. With a minute to go, Weaver was cut over the left
eye. His face as cherry-red and swollen from the jab, from
the heavy punches
now getting past his tired
arms.
Holmes caught his man with two lefts and a right, and then
a solid right cross. Weaver backed into the ropes and the
champion followed him, stepped in close and threw
everything he had left into a paralyzing right
uppercut.
Weaver dropped. There were 12 seconds left. Somehow the
challenger pulled himself up, just beating the count. It
earned him a minute's rest, but that wasn't
enough.
As Weaver came out for the 12th round, referee Harold Valan
asked, "Are you
O.K.?"
"Yeah," was the
reply.
Holmes advanced quickly, fired four quick jabs and then
went to work with both hands. Weaver backed against the
ropes and hung there, unable to do more than defend
himself. Valan stopped the fight 44 seconds into the round
and the network TV people took
off after King, bidding for replay rights to the bout.
"They all wanted it," King reported later.
"I gave it to ABC and they'll run it on July 1. Giving
it to ABC was the right thing to do. After all, they'll
televise
Holmes-Shavers."
And Holmes' dogs will not only have their day; Larry will
have a
payday.
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CNN/SI followed Holyfield through a typical day of training.
Check out the video clips, but be sure to come back to Evander's
Believe It Or Not.