July 11, 1996. Madison Square Garden. New York, New York, United States of America.
With a verbal assault from Rock Newman, manager of former heavyweight champion Riddick Bowe, and a crack to the back of Andrew Golota's head delivered by Jason Harris, a cell phone wielding member of the Bowe entourage/management team, a riot ensued, both inside the ring and out, that would soon spread throughout the Mecca of Boxing and result in numerous arrests, including Harris himself.
The scene at Bowe-Golota I is well-known to boxing fans and general sports fans alike, linked forever to the image of Golota, affectionately known as the Foul Pole, crippling Bowe with repeated low blows until referee Wayne Kelly had seen enough in round seven and disqualified the Polish underdog who had otherwise dominated Bowe from the sound of the opening bell. Beginning the next day and lasting for several days after, the often used phrase "a black eye for boxing" was indelibly etched on headlines, a reminder to the sporting world that boxing had again let everyone down, allowing the worst to hide the light of the best. In the 53 weeks that followed Bowe-Golota I, the black eye that began in New York became an unrecognizable, bloodied mask thanks to a series of unrelated but seemingly endless streak of unthinkable, ridiculous moments, aired live around the globe, leaving some observers wondering if the days for the Sweet Science as one of the top sports in the world were numbered.
Indeed, July 11, 1996 was only the beginning. Later that year, in Atlantic City, Golota once again dominated Bowe for nine rounds in their pay-per-view rematch before, inexplicably, getting himself disqualified by referee Eddie Cotton for repeated low blows, for the second time in six months. In February of 1997, Lennox Lewis was awarded the WBC Heavyweight Championship that he lost to Oliver McCall in 1994 when McCall suffered a nervous breakdown in the ring, crying as Mills Lane attempted to control the situation, ultimately ending the bout in one of the most bizarre technical knockouts in boxing history. In June 1997, Mike Tyson was disqualified from his rematch with Evander Holyfield, again by Mills Lane, when Tyson bit Holyfield twice in round three. In July 1997, with trouble seeming to follow the diminutive official, Lane was forced to disqualify Henry Akinwande from his WBC Heavyweight Championship fight with Lennox Lewis due to excessive holding. Four high profile fights, four disqualifications, all within little more than a year. Boxing was in desperate need of a fix, a call to fans who had gone astray to come back to the sport that had once stirred their passion rather than churning their stomach. The last chance, or so it seemed, rested with two super flyweights who hailed from the same hometown.
Although Johnny Tapia and Danny Romero were born into completely different worlds, the two young prizefighters grew up only miles apart in Albuquerque, New Mexico. The vida loca life of Tapia included the tragic, violent death of his mother Virginia under incredible circumstances, as well as the absence of his biological father. With his turn to boxing came a relationship with a local trainer associated with the Police Athletic League: Danny Romero Sr., who was also training his young son in the same weight class as Tapia. Tapia and Romero split after a brief partnership. After turning professional in 1988 following two national Golden Gloves titles, Tapia would win the USBA Super Flyweight Championship, defending it twice and placing himself in prime position for a world title shot when three positive tests for cocaine resulted in a three year suspension from boxing in 1991.
The stability that Tapia lacked proved to be a driving force in both the life and professional career of Romero. Nicknamed "Kid Dynamite" for the explosive punching power that would ultimately rank him among the pound-for-pound hardest hitters in the sport during the mid-to-late 1990s, the father-and-son team of Danny Sr. and Danny Jr. quickly ascended through the ranks of the 112 and 115 lb. weight divisions in what would prove to be a collision course with Tapia, the former Albuquerque stable mate. After winning the New Mexico State super flyweight championship in 1993 and the NABF Flyweight title in 1994, Romero realized his world championship dreams in April of 1995, on the undercard of George Foreman's title defense against Axel Schulz, with a unanimous decision win over IBF flyweight champion Francisco Tejedor.
Despite a seventh round technical knockout loss to journeyman Willy Salazar in a 1995 non-title bout, Romero would go on to win the IBF super flyweight championship in 1996 with a quick knockout of Harold Grey. With Romero's violent and exciting entrance into the super flyweight division, the unification with Tapia, then the WBO champion, was deemed both inevitable for the careers of both fighters and necessary for the good of the sport in light of troubling times.
Set to be aired before an international television audience on HBO World Championship Boxing, the long-awaited clash of the New Mexican icons was scheduled for July 18, 1997 at the Las Vegas Hilton in Las Vegas, Nevada. Although The Pit on the campus of the University of New Mexico in Albuquerque seemed like the perfect venue for the Tapia-Romero clash, concerns regarding violence between the vigorous supporters from both camps forced the relocation of the bout to a more supportive neutral site. However, the event itself was threatened in short order when an incident between Tapia and Romero supporters on a Southwest Airlines flight to Las Vegas, along with worries concerning the aftermath of the Tyson-Holyfield debacle at the MGM Grand just a month before, prompted the Hilton to pull out of the fight, leaving the Thomas and Mack Center to serve as a replacement on less than a month's notice.
The unexpected venue change was but one contributor to the volatile environment surrounding the Tapia-Romero event, with another major component existing in the form of the Tapia camp itself. In the final crucial weeks of his training camp, Tapia managed to hire and fire trainer Jesse Reid, recruit legendary trainer Eddie Futch, and later rehire Reid to work the corner as co-trainer with Futch on the night of the fight. In usual fashion, Romero remained stable, consistent, reliable, poised to work toward the task before him with brutal efficiency and a calm confidence that had defined his five year career.
Following the introductions by ring announcer Mark Beiro, the ten-thousand plus in attendance were worked into a frenzy before the sound of the opening bell. "Round one begins," HBO's Jim Lampley said as they moved to the center of the ring. "They've waited years." Indeed they had. Tapia winged hooks to Romero's body in the first minute of the opening round, dropping lead right hands on Romero as he slowly moved forward, darting in and out with the Tapia energy that brought a roar from the crowd with every significant move. With his trademark energy and defiance, Tapia finished the first round with a solid left hook and a staredown for his crosstown rival, fixing his glare on Romero as he walked back to the corner.
Despite the early effectiveness of their collective game plan, trainers Jesse Reid and Eddie Futch expressed concerns regarding Tapia's focus, urging him to remain disciplined, to move in and out, counter when necessary, and to avoid a toe-to-toe war with his power punching counterpart who had scored 27 knockouts in his 30 wins. The Tapia body attack and frenetic pace continued in rounds two and three, but Romero would finally come alive and capture the momentum in round four, moving inside the Tapia attack while landing jabs and right hands with regularity. With Romero taking charge, landing his best punches of the fight in round five, making his physical presence felt, and disturbing Tapia's rhythm, the fight appeared to be in a dead heat going into the final six rounds.
In the opening seconds of round seven, a Romero right hand cracked Tapia flush on the jaw, prompting Tapia to clown, feign being hurt, and touch his gloves to the canvas. That shot from Romero would prove to be one of his final big moments in the ebb and flow of the fight. Later in the round, following an accidental clash of heads, as Mitch Halpern checked both fighters, Tapia walked toward the corner and asked, "Are you okay, Danny?", an event thought impossible little more than an hour before. The resurgent Tapia worked back into the game plan that won the first three rounds, boxing Romero in rounds seven and eight, circling to his right, working behind the jab, and avoiding a Romero attack that was growing progressively slower and more predictable as the IBF champion looked for the knockout blow that would settle the score between the longtime rivals.
"Play with him! Play with him! He's getting frustrated," Jesse Reid said emphatically, dispensing almost unheard of advice in the Tapia corner before the start of the tenth round, and yet that is exactly what Tapia would do in the final three rounds. With energy now shown since the first third of the bout, Tapia exploded with combinations to the body and head of Romero in round eleven, drilling his opponent in the center of the ring and raising his hand between the attacks, prompting cheers and chants from the predominantly pro-Tapia crowd.
Before the twelfth and final round, Jesse Reid told Tapia to have some fun with Romero and to look like a true champion. Across the ring, Danny Romero was given more tactical advice, to fire punches at Tapia and keep him from doing too much. For the boxing world, the question that remained was not which fighter would be awarded a decision when the final three minutes had elapsed, but how much the fight could do to heal the wounds of the last 53 weeks and whether or not the final verdict would settle the score between Tapia and Romero in a sense that extended far beyond the ring at the Thomas and Mack Center.
In the twelfth, Tapia boxed and Romero stalked, but neither fighter took the round decisively. As the bell sounded, Tapia delivered a trademark backflip and was raised in the air by Jesse Reid. Both fighters raised their arms to the crowd, with Tapia receiving the louder ovation as he stood on the ropes and pointed skyward. The same gesture from Romero drew a chorus of boos just seconds before Mark Beiro called for the bell and read the decision.
Judges Clark Sammartino and Jerry Roth scored 116-112, while Glen Hamada scored 115-113, all in favor of Johnny Tapia, but the sport in desperate need of a great fight on a big night, full of excitement and free of controversy, was the true winner. A tearful Tapia celebrated with the grandfather who raised him during the postfight interview while a disappointed Romero considered the possibility of a rematch and pondered his own future, one no longer linked to Tapia, with the class that was expected of the two-time world champion. More importantly, both men sought to let the comments and events of the past stay in the past.
In an unexpected turn of events, the careers of Tapia and Romero would ultimately go in different directions. Tapia would continue on at the highest levels of the sport, defending his unified IBF/WBO championship twice before defeating Nana Konadu for the WBA bantamweight championship, a title he would lose to Paulie Ayala in 1999, the first defeat of Tapia's career. There was one more title belt for the collection, an IBF featherweight championship won from Manuel Medina in 2002, before the erosion of his skills was made evident in a lopsided twelve round loss to Mexican legend Marco Antonio Barrera in 2002.
For Romero, the narrow loss on the biggest stage of his career would serve as his personal pinnacle. His bid for the IBF super bantamweight title fell just short in a majority decision loss to champion Vuyani Bungu on Halloween night 1998 in Atlantic City. Romero would not challenge for a major world title again. There were eight more wins for the record, followed by a decision loss to Ratanachai Sor Vorapin in 2001 and a TKO loss to Cruz Carbajal in 2002. A short comeback netted two wins and a draw for Romero, who has not fought since 2006.
Neither Tapia nor Romero stepped into the ring in 2008 or 2009, with Romero seemingly retired and Tapia recently serving a jail sentence that actually caused the cancellation of a possible comeback fight in Albuquerque. Looking back, it's hard to believe that the long-awaited clash to unify the IBF and WBO super flyweight championships, and to award bragging rights over the mutual hometown of two of the best small fighters in the world, took place nearly twelve years ago. Although the official record shows Johnny Tapia winning a unanimous decision over Danny Romero in Las Vegas, boxing fans around the world should remember that night as an example of what the sport can ultimately be: an exhibition of pure boxing skills, filled with controlled emotion, a wealth of talent, and incredible energy, devoid of controversy, violence, and disgrace. For that night, while forgotten by some, those who passionately follow the sport should be forever grateful, because on a hot July night in the Las Vegas desert, rather than being administered another black eye, the world of boxing was presented with a Silver Star.
[EDITOR'S NOTE: FightHype would like to welcome the talented Brad Cooper to the team.]