Wrestling Match in the Afternoon

Two o’clock is no time for a fistfight--not in the afternoon, anyway. Duking it out after dark is the way men do things; maybe women, too. It does not matter if the disagreement is mano a mano or a rumble, or if the setting is a gymnasium or a gin joint, or if a single knuckle sandwich is served. Afternoons are for soap operas. Nights are for fights.

A ringside bell is not supposed to be an alarm clock.

So, perhaps the sluggish nature of Thursday Afternoon at the Fights’ main event in the Barcelona Olympics could be attributed somewhat to its midday starting time. Oscar De La Hoya is ordinarily as stylish as Oscar De La Renta. For this important matinee, however, he was listless, fistless and lucky not to be leaving for Los Angeles accessorized in bronze.

Hollywood’s sturdiest little Oscar still has the means to become a golden boy, having defeated Hong Sung Sik, 11-10, in an Olympic lightweight fight that will long be remembered (not) for the South Korean’s attempt to revise the sport into Greco-Roman boxing. Nary a jab could be aimed without Hong’s retaliation being a headlock, a neck massage or a noogie.

“He shouldn’t even be in boxing,” De La Hoya needled afterward. “He should be in wrestling.”

Maybe so, but the fact remains that Hong was dominating this bout on the scorecard after one round, tagged De La Hoya and staggered him in the second, strategically took away the American’s signature counterpunching and could have won the fight had the referee not seen fit to slap him with a three-point penalty for holding.

De La Hoya, who called his own performance “terrible,” which it certainly was, literally escaped by the skin of his neck. He came out of the fray with an icepack on his right thumb, a pockmark on his reputation and a pretty mad dad, Joel De La Hoya, who sat behind a balcony railing hunched over a “Good Luck, Oscar” banner, wondering if the time had come to fold it up and take it home.

Sit back, Pop.

Don’t go away yet. Not every fight is pretty and not every fighter is pretty, but Oscar of the Olympics, who customarily qualifies on both counts, will be back to box another day.

He was 14 when he learned to dislike the taste of defeat, and he is 19 now, and the only licking Oscar has absorbed at any time in between came in Sydney last October, when he made the mistake of taking a rawboned German for granted and began to understand the dangers of winning too easily. The boxer who bettered De La Hoya that day was one Marco Rudolph, and the boxer he must best Saturday for the gold medal is the very same Marco Rudolph.

If all goes well, when the bout is over De La Hoya will be waving another wave to his father in the balcony and blowing another kiss to his mother in heaven. This has been his curtain call after every ring engagement since his mother, Cecilia, died of breast cancer 21 months ago. She was quite young, 39, the same age as an American woman who ran an Olympic marathon last week, and Oscar misses her daily and dearly.

He has dedicated everything to her and has dominated everyone he has encountered, until Thursday.

“I don’t know if fighting in the afternoon messed up my sleep habits or what,” De La Hoya said. “Mainly, I think it was this guy I fought. I can’t explain his style. He has no style.”

Among the dignitaries in attendance for Oscar’s semifinal fight were one of the President of the United States’ sons, (Marvelous?) Marvin Bush, who never misses a Hong Sung Sik fight, and the nation’s more gorgeous George, Foreman.

Like everybody else inside Joventut Pavilion, they were looking forward to seeing the De La Hoya who had won over so many hearts, the De La Hoya who introduced a Brazilian to the canvas to begin his Olympic adventure and hadn’t been seriously challenged since. They anticipated a demonstration of De La Hoya’s speed and skill.

What they saw instead was a young Korean, who apparently patterned his ring style after Bruno Sammartino, keep cuffing the neck and impeding the progress of the American for as long as he could get away with it. De La Hoya waited for Hong to be called for a foul, which he was, and to be disqualified, which he was not.

Hong’s strategy wasn’t pretty, but it was crafty, and it nearly won him the fight, particularly toward the end of the bout when the referee warned the exasperated De La Hoya, who by then had become the holder because he was tired of being the holdee.

What Oscar wants next to be holdin’ is golden.

Day or night.