A Farewell to Fisticuffs: Despite Win, Davis Disappoints in FNF Season Debut
KEY WEST, FLORIDA - As the son of quite possibly the most accomplished amateur fighter this country has ever produced, greatness, at least the athletic kind, runs through the blood of Dyah Davis.
Just in case that wasn’t enough to ensure Dyah’s claim to boxing supremacy, his old man, 1976 Olympic gold medalist Howard Davis, bestowed upon his son the middle name “Ali,” which means “great” in Arabic, to say nothing of the iconic boxing figure it conjures. But as anybody who has ever spent a few minutes at the track in the company of a wise handicapper can tell you, betting on bloodlines alone is an easy way to go bust.
Sometimes, blood is the only thing a father gives to a son. In boxing, more often than not, fathers keep the talent for themselves, leaving their sons with something thicker than blood: unreasonable expectations. Such is the prizefighting career of Dyah Davis.
For a while it seemed as though Dyah had no interest in the fight game, and that his father, quite admirably, refused to live vicariously through his son as so many before him have done with mixed and sometimes tragic results. But after twenty-three years of avoiding the inevitable and a brief flirtation with obesity, Davis, on a whim, decided to become a fighter. After just nine months of training in his father’s gym in Coconut Creek, Florida and not a single amateur fight under his belt he turned professional in 2004 at 175 pounds.
Today, at the age of 30, he’s considered a fringe contender in the super middleweight division and ranked ninth in the world by two different sanctioning bodies. Just a few big wins away from challenging for a minor title, Davis is on the verge of doing something his father was unable to do as a professional.
ESPN2 had no problem dramatizing that storyline in promotion of last night’s season premiere of “Friday Night Fights,” for which Davis was the headliner. Programmers are well aware that Americans, and fight fans especially, are suckers for dynasties, and that watching them crumble is almost always more entertaining than seeing them rise.
Davis’s actual performance inside the ring, however, was the furthest thing from dramatic. Despite an opponent with a phobia for actual fighting, such a lackluster showing did little, if anything, to bolster whatever reputation Davis has outside of his name. Contenders are supposed to feed on lesser fighters, no matter how unwilling to engage they might be; pretenders feed on hype and excuses - and nothing more.
Davis failed to do either particularly well. His opponent, Alfonso Lopez, on the other hand, threw about two punches in the first two rounds of the bout and unlike Davis was wholly uninterested in earning his paycheck. It remains one of the world’s greatest mysteries how Lopez, over the course of a 24-fight career, has managed to knock out 17 opponents.
Locals like to call Mallory Square, the hub of Key West’s historic waterfront, the place where the road ends. If it wasn’t for all the beer being swilled down, it would’ve been where the crowd’s patience and sanity came to an end, too. Nevertheless, it was here on the southernmost tip of the Florida Keys on Friday, January 6 where something that vaguely resembled a fight took place. So will say the record books, anyway. But in reality, to call it a fight at all would give violence, even the beautiful, sometimes lyrical kind with rules, a bad rap.
In a bout scheduled for ten rounds no punch of any substance landed until the fifth when Lopez lunged into the pocket with his head down and was greeted by a quick, short uppercut from Davis. Lopez fights standing straight up, bouncing awkwardly on the tips of his toes with his elbows abnormally high and his palms open and out, as though searching for a bathroom in a dark hallway. He refused to engage in a single exchange.
Davis cuts a lean figure at 6'1"; he looked agile and fairly athletic, feinting and moving his upper body well, only there were no punches to slip. But he refused to pick up the pace, cut off the ring or take any serious chances lest he actually absorb a jab or two.
Despite a few punches that connected in the final rounds, sending the inebriated crowd into a frenzy as if the ghost of Hemingway had just climbed into the ring, the entire fight was a complete farce. More specifically, a disgrace to the months of hard work each fighter endured in preparation for the bout.
Two judges scored the fight a shutout, 100-90, and the third judge’s scorecard read 99-91, all in favor of Dyah Davis. For those betting on bloodlines and nothing else, their money is safe for another day. That is, at least until Davis rides this wave a little farther and challenges for a belt. Just ask Aaron Pryor, Jr.
Davis improves to 21-2-1, 9 KO’s; Lopez drops to 22-2, 17 KO’s.