The Mystery Card
Inn of the Mountain Gods
Ruidoso, Nm
March 23, 2002

Last night’s fight card in Ruidoso, coined the “Mystery Card” by NewMexicoBoxing.com, ended up just that—a mystery.

For all the effort that went into the event by promoters Butch Bryant and Chuck Scovone, their inexperience played out to the end. At first, the New Mexico Athletic Commission patiently tried to work with the two green (‘green’ being a boxing term meaning ‘inexperienced’) promoters but the documentation they needed to come up with, as well as the bond money that insures that everyone gets paid, failed to be sent in by the deadline. The Athletic Commission decided not to sanction the event.

Without the support and security of the Commission, the promoters decided to go ahead with the card, anyway. No longer an “official pro card,” the fight card was reduced to “smoker” status.

But other than the main event, assured by the promoters to be Eric Holland vs. Jose Cataneo, the bouts on the card remained a mystery.

Who was going to fight on a card unsanctioned by the Commission? What officials would the promoters get to officiate the card?

Without the blessing of the Commission, I decided not to go down to Ruidoso as an official. Instead, I went as a reporter for New Mexico Boxing. Sanctioned or smoker, pro or amateur, there were still fights to cover.

The Mystery Card with the unrevealed (or un-put-together) line-up became more and more mysterious as time went on.

The weigh-in was scheduled for 5 PM sharp on Friday at the Ramada Limited in Ruidoso Downs. As I drove up to the hotel, I spotted promoter Butch Bryant and a couple of fight officials from Chihuahua, Mexico. Joining them, I was informed by Bryant that the weigh-ins were now moved to the West Convention Center on the Mescalero Reservation.

When I arrived there, I recognized one other fighter and trainer there, seemingly as lost as everyone else was. Now we had two fighters: Manny Chavez, a heavyweight, and Colbert Lozoya a lightweight—hopefully these two would not be fighting each other, but from the look of things, I wasn’t ruling that out.

After waiting in the parking lot of the Convention Center for 15 minutes, Bryant showed up and announced that the re-scheduled weigh-ins would be rescheduled yet again, this time for 6 PM on the following day, just one hour before the fight was scheduled to begin!

On Saturday, I got in touch with Bryant to see what the status of the card was.  All he could confirm was that the show was a go. 

The Mystery Card continued, with Butch, chasing his tail in circles and his partner, Chuck Scovone, who originally insisted he was the promoter (not Bryant), mysteriously absent from the event.

Maybe he’d left town.

At 6 PM, I was at the Inn of the Mountain Gods for the weigh-in. Unfortunately, none of the fighters were there. I waited around, checking out the venue only to see the ring unassembled. Turned out, Butch had forgotten to bring the turnbuckles for the ring (which secure the ropes to the ring) so he had to drive back to Alamogordo to get them—a 1 ½ hour turnaround trip.

I waited around for the fighters, but no one ever showed up.

Did this event even have anyone on the card?

As of yesterday, they were still scrambling to find last-minute fighters. The nasty rumor circulating had the local homeless shelter targeted for last-minute bodies.

At 7 PM, the scheduled time for first bell, there were still no boxers. The ring was now being worked on and in 20 minutes, looked kind of fixed although the ropes were dangerously loose—a problem Bryant said he couldn’t fix because the turnbuckles were not the right size.  

I spent some time with the ringside physician, who said he wasn't really an M.D. at all, but a veternarian. Then, at 7:16, veteran pug Jose Canteneo showed up with a couple of boxers from Juarez. The other half of the main event, Eric Holland, was still a no show.

By quarter to 8, Bryant made an announcement to the sparse crowd of 200 that the show was most likely going to be cancelled due to the mysterious disappearance of Eric Holland. Trying to lighten the crowd’s disposition, Bryant said, “If you find Eric underneath you chair, please tell him he has a fight tonight.”

At 8 PM, Bryant backtracked, saying the fights would still go on but if anyone wanted a refund, they could see him after the show.

Somehow, Bryant was able to patch together three bouts—with fighters I’d never heard of before, which is odd as I’ve been involved in boxing, both amateur and professional, in this area since I was a child. All nine fighters were making their debuts in the ring tonight and Bryant said since this was a “non-pro” card, these fighters were agreeing to fight for the “glory of it.”

The fight card was further downgraded from “smoker” to “glorified sparring match.”

The line-up was: Tim Jones, El Paso  vs   Manny Chavez, Juarez; Jorge Cruz, Juarez  vs   Mike Zubia, El Paso; Brian Rocker,  Missoula, Montana  vs  Kirkland Reed, Alamogordo.

Since there was not a weigh-in, I did not have accurate weights, but eyeballing the fighters. I estimated that Jones-Chavez bout was at heavyweight; Cruz-Zubia was at feather; and Rocker-Reed was at super-middle.

Sounds crazy? Well, it was about to get crazier.

Shortly after 8 PM, I was approached by Bryant if I’d consider sparring my good friend, the salty ring vet, Jose Cataneo. After a little thought, I agreed to step in as the card’s main event for a glorified sparring session. “Glorified” was an understatement as there was no headgear available and I had to box without a shirt, exposing a body that would make the Pillsbury Dough Boy proud.

The frantic search for a cup, a mouth piece and shorts was on. I figured I could fight with my black socks and hiking shoes if need be—hell, this wasn’t a beauty contest!

I was offered a used mouthpiece but from what I’ve learned about contagious diseases as a firefighter, I passed, considering I’d rather stick my sock in my mouth than take the generous offer. Finally, a local trainer came up with a new mouthpiece that I take to the concession stand to have them dip in hot water so I could mold it to my teeth.  The same trainer also let me use a cup and some kid--I never got his name--let me use the cut-off sweat pants he was wearing, along with a clean pair of socks and boxing shoes that actually fit. Damn, I was set!

I found myself in the dressing room, stretching this old body for what it hadn’t been through in 15 years. I started to put together a strategy, mentally 'seeing' the fight together in my mind, and trying to dismiss the thoughts of the green chile stew and two beers I had prior to being asked to participate.

In the meantime, the first fight was going on and it looked as if Chavez was having his way with Jones, causing the referee from Chihuahua, Gerardo Terrazas, to stop the sparring contest. 

As I was contemplating how I was going to hide my gut from the spectators, and more importantly my opponent, Cruz was going out to face Zubia. As they fought, I was left to secure my makeshift “cholo” boxing trunks with some tape I found on the floor. Wrapping the tape around the waist line a couple of times, I finally felt confident that they wouldn’t drift south during my fight.

As I peeked out of the dressing room, it looked as if Zubia was a little more skilled than Cruz. After the fourth round, the judges were in agreement, giving Zubia the nod by decision.

As Reed went out to fight, he wished me luck and I returned the same. As his bout went underway, Reed appeared to have more experience, prompting the ref to stop the fight in the 2^nd.

Damn, it was my turn already.

I was about to enter the ring for the first time in 17 years, when, in the '80s, I was the ESPN Lightweight champion and had fought Freddie Roach and Hector Camacho [click here for more info on Louie Burke.] It was no guts, no glory, and all that other corny stuff.

My strategy?

I’d seen Cataneo fight a million times and I knew he was a 10-round fighter who took a long time to warm up. On the other hand, I hadn’t even sparred in two years and I didn’t know if I could last two rounds, much less four—the agreed upon number of rounds. Cataneo had also prepared for fighting and I hadn't.

I figured I was good for three rounds, and I knew Jose would start warming up around the 4^th, allowing me to outhustle him the first three and then move away in the 4^th. I planned to try and get in three or four good flurries, stealing the rounds and then moving away behind the jab.

Ok, enough strategy: I was getting tired just thinking about it.  As I made my way into the ring, I heard chants of “Loooouuie!” and few remarks about being ButterBean, Jr., maybe even something about having eaten too many enchiladas and tacos—if they only knew I’d lost 15 pounds since New Year’s.

I entered the ring first and there I waited for five minutes until Jose Cataneo came into the ring. We shook hands in respect, the bell rang and we fought.

I ended up outhustling him as I planned, in the 1^st and 2^nd, catching him mostly with left hooks and trying to avoid his overhand right, which I saw him rock Eric Holland with during their WBB title fight. In the third round, he landed his damn overhand right, involuntarily making me do the Elvis Presley shimmy.  I clinched for dear life, regrouping for the rest of the round but knowing I’d given him the round.

Now, it was do or die. I had to win the last round or settle for a draw, or possible loss.

As tired as I was, I tried to stay busy, moving away from him then stepping in with a jab, right hand-left hook combo.  It felt like an eternity for the bell to ring and when it finally did, I thought, Thank God, it’s over!

I've always liked Cataneo, as a person and as a warrior, it was a privileged to have the opportunity to step in the ring with him.

As the ref called us to the center ring, the verdict was in: I won a unanimous decision, winning three out of the four rounds.  The sense of pride for a single dad who’s going to be 41 in three weeks is hard to describe, so I won’t. But I'll be able to savor the victory till I'm 50, then I might give it another shot.

As for the Mystery Card? It’s still a mystery why the promoters never came up with a bond, and what ever happened to the weigh-ins, and the boxers who were originally scheduled to fight, including Colbert Lozoya, who’d shown up for the canceled weigh-in?  Where was Eric Holland, and the “promoter,” Chuck Scovone?

The reason why bouts have to be sanctioned by legitimate commissions, that require bonds and insurances, is to prevent these type of Mystery Cards from happening. Not only do they protect the public, but they protect the boxers from shams and ensure some form of safety.

Last I heard, Eric Holland and Chuck Scovone were still missing . . . .

As for the Inn of the Mountain Gods?

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© 2002 by New Mexico Boxing.com