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Tough Talkers & Inaction Figures
Tough Talkers
A warning the MPAA should consider: Will Smith may induce nausea in
some sensitive individuals. In addition to his movies lowering the
bar for cinema, he's an admitted nepotist -- his precocious son has
wasted perfectly good film stock -- and suspected Scientologist. If
that trifecta doesn't make you lose your breakfast burrito, my
applause.
But none of Smith's career abominations -- take your pick between "Wild, Wild West" or "I, Robot" -- were as grotesque as the reports circulating at the time "Ali" that Smith believed he had become so competent a boxer that he could actually step in the ring.
(The point is coming. Hang in there. -- Ed.)
Smith "is great," trainer Darrell Foster told a journalist in 2001. "He could fight for real. His hand speed's real good."
We'll forgive Foster his trespasses: A former middleweight boxer, he's had his share of traumatic brain injury. But there are other media personalities who perpetually bray they have what it takes to climb into a ring.
Now maybe it's because I've been a fan of combat sports for nearly 15 years and have heard hundreds of stories about bloody urine, stitches in eyelids and broken faces or maybe it's that I feel actors, wrestlers and hypothetical tough guy should find alternate avenues for feeding their egos or maybe I just reserve admiration of alpha-male behavior for those actually losing their molars in a fight.
Whatever the case, whenever I hear of a non-fighter clacking his tongue, I want to ram a No. 2 pencil in my ear and deal with the consequences later.
Here is a handy guide to those who generate plenty of sound, but no fury:
Kurt Angle
Of all the vaporware pugilists in circulation, Angle is clearly the most capable of hurting someone. A 1996 Olympic gold medalist in freestyle wrestling, the majority of his life has been devoted to perfecting the art of controlling bodies on the mat. For a neophyte in MMA, determining where the fight takes place -- and thus avoiding the loss of brain cells associated with being punted in the head -- is critical.
Despite his pedigree, the 39-year-old professional wrestler is likely better suited to a sequel of the 2000 cautionary tale "The Smashing Machine," which chronicled the emotional and physical ruin of walking pharmacy Mark Kerr (Pictures). Angle has had admitted issues with painkillers and chronic neck problems. Worse, no one has come forward to say that Angle has spent any appreciable amount of time understanding submissions or working on striking defense.
There was brief talk of Angle fighting boxer Michael Moorer in 2002 on a card co-promoted by Vince McMahon and headlined by Brock Lesnar (Pictures) against Lennox Lewis. Since then, we've been subjected to countless dialogues in which Angle professed desire to compete in a freestyle fight.
I spoke to Angle two years ago for a piece in Real Fighter magazine, and he seemed sincere in his intentions to fight. Frank Trigg (Pictures), who is aligned with Angle's TNA wrestling promotion, said Angle has discussed fighting as recently as two weeks ago, but another neck injury has stymied any concrete plans.
Unfortunately, the bell sounded for those hopes five years ago. Older, inexperienced in most ranges of combat and lumbering around in a creaky body, the only danger Angle presents in a cage is to himself.
Chuck Zito
Zito's official job description is "actor and bodyguard," but in reality the concrete-faced mesomorph from the Bronx is notable primarily for a celebrated background as a Hell's Angels member and notorious street fighter. Had his felonious prime been documented on YouTube, he probably would've been the 1988 version of Kimbo Slice.
Zito's most infamous press copy came in 1998, when he decided to do the world a favor and knock the Belgian accent out of an obnoxious Jean-Claude Van Damme (whom we'll get to shortly) in a New York strip club.
The 55-year-old Zito, who credits his amateur boxing background for his mettle, has made frequent proclamations of wanting to have an MMA fight and believes his "hands" are better than most. This ignores two obvious issues: amateur boxing experience is roughly as useful in MMA as an amateur bobsledding career, and the reflexes of a middle-aged man are rather unsympathetic to avoiding serious injury.
I could spend another 10 paragraphs on Zito's lack of understanding regarding stance, submission, levels and the irrelevance of boxing matches from 35 years ago, but won't. Let's spare us both.
Zito makes regular appearances in Sirius Satellite Radio, both on his own show and Howard Stern's, and regularly professes plans to get into the ring "when the money is right." I would suggest any promoter explore the practicality of cleaning out Fort Knox before negotiating with him.
Jose Canseco
Chemical experiment or not, Jose Canseco is an impressive physical specimen. Six-foot-four and 240 pounds, he's exactly the kind of overpowering gorilla that would make one rethink any hostile advances. Even sitting in a talk show chair, Canseco seems perpetually outsized, annoyed by the tiny confines of puny human decorum.
Perhaps not coincidentally, Canseco is also possessed of an ego roughly the size of an aircraft carrier. When not breaking confidence and tattling on steroid-abusing teammates for profit, he made noise about entering an MMA ring to exploit his foundation of traditional martial arts. In 2007, he and Herschel Walker announced they would "coach" squads of amateur fighters for a reality show developed by "Survivor" mastermind Mark Burnett and, perhaps, fight each other.
All of this is roughly as likely to happen as Three-Mile Island becoming a Disney theme park, but Canseco deserves SOME credit for signing up to face former NFL kick returner Vai Sikahema on July 12. Like previous efforts from the promoter of "Celebrity Boxing," Canseco is likely to be sporting big, puffy gloves and headgear.
Pretty ignoble attire for a guy who thinks he can get into a cage.
Wesley Snipes
The press dogged Snipes so often in recent months -- for failure to pay taxes -- that I hesitate to pour any more lighter fluid on his image.
But it's hard to neglect the stupendously silly phone call he allegedly made in 2005 in which he inquired if a promoter would set up a fight against Jean-Claude Van Damme. While Snipes has spent years practicing traditional martial arts -- which we now know are as useful in a real fight as a water balloon -- it appears as though the gallons of fake blood in the "Blade" flicks got to his head.
But speaking of the "Muscle from Brussels" …
But none of Smith's career abominations -- take your pick between "Wild, Wild West" or "I, Robot" -- were as grotesque as the reports circulating at the time "Ali" that Smith believed he had become so competent a boxer that he could actually step in the ring.
(The point is coming. Hang in there. -- Ed.)
Smith "is great," trainer Darrell Foster told a journalist in 2001. "He could fight for real. His hand speed's real good."
We'll forgive Foster his trespasses: A former middleweight boxer, he's had his share of traumatic brain injury. But there are other media personalities who perpetually bray they have what it takes to climb into a ring.
Now maybe it's because I've been a fan of combat sports for nearly 15 years and have heard hundreds of stories about bloody urine, stitches in eyelids and broken faces or maybe it's that I feel actors, wrestlers and hypothetical tough guy should find alternate avenues for feeding their egos or maybe I just reserve admiration of alpha-male behavior for those actually losing their molars in a fight.
Whatever the case, whenever I hear of a non-fighter clacking his tongue, I want to ram a No. 2 pencil in my ear and deal with the consequences later.
Here is a handy guide to those who generate plenty of sound, but no fury:
Kurt Angle
Of all the vaporware pugilists in circulation, Angle is clearly the most capable of hurting someone. A 1996 Olympic gold medalist in freestyle wrestling, the majority of his life has been devoted to perfecting the art of controlling bodies on the mat. For a neophyte in MMA, determining where the fight takes place -- and thus avoiding the loss of brain cells associated with being punted in the head -- is critical.
Despite his pedigree, the 39-year-old professional wrestler is likely better suited to a sequel of the 2000 cautionary tale "The Smashing Machine," which chronicled the emotional and physical ruin of walking pharmacy Mark Kerr (Pictures). Angle has had admitted issues with painkillers and chronic neck problems. Worse, no one has come forward to say that Angle has spent any appreciable amount of time understanding submissions or working on striking defense.
There was brief talk of Angle fighting boxer Michael Moorer in 2002 on a card co-promoted by Vince McMahon and headlined by Brock Lesnar (Pictures) against Lennox Lewis. Since then, we've been subjected to countless dialogues in which Angle professed desire to compete in a freestyle fight.
I spoke to Angle two years ago for a piece in Real Fighter magazine, and he seemed sincere in his intentions to fight. Frank Trigg (Pictures), who is aligned with Angle's TNA wrestling promotion, said Angle has discussed fighting as recently as two weeks ago, but another neck injury has stymied any concrete plans.
Unfortunately, the bell sounded for those hopes five years ago. Older, inexperienced in most ranges of combat and lumbering around in a creaky body, the only danger Angle presents in a cage is to himself.
Chuck Zito
Zito's official job description is "actor and bodyguard," but in reality the concrete-faced mesomorph from the Bronx is notable primarily for a celebrated background as a Hell's Angels member and notorious street fighter. Had his felonious prime been documented on YouTube, he probably would've been the 1988 version of Kimbo Slice.
Zito's most infamous press copy came in 1998, when he decided to do the world a favor and knock the Belgian accent out of an obnoxious Jean-Claude Van Damme (whom we'll get to shortly) in a New York strip club.
The 55-year-old Zito, who credits his amateur boxing background for his mettle, has made frequent proclamations of wanting to have an MMA fight and believes his "hands" are better than most. This ignores two obvious issues: amateur boxing experience is roughly as useful in MMA as an amateur bobsledding career, and the reflexes of a middle-aged man are rather unsympathetic to avoiding serious injury.
I could spend another 10 paragraphs on Zito's lack of understanding regarding stance, submission, levels and the irrelevance of boxing matches from 35 years ago, but won't. Let's spare us both.
Zito makes regular appearances in Sirius Satellite Radio, both on his own show and Howard Stern's, and regularly professes plans to get into the ring "when the money is right." I would suggest any promoter explore the practicality of cleaning out Fort Knox before negotiating with him.
Jose Canseco
Chemical experiment or not, Jose Canseco is an impressive physical specimen. Six-foot-four and 240 pounds, he's exactly the kind of overpowering gorilla that would make one rethink any hostile advances. Even sitting in a talk show chair, Canseco seems perpetually outsized, annoyed by the tiny confines of puny human decorum.
Perhaps not coincidentally, Canseco is also possessed of an ego roughly the size of an aircraft carrier. When not breaking confidence and tattling on steroid-abusing teammates for profit, he made noise about entering an MMA ring to exploit his foundation of traditional martial arts. In 2007, he and Herschel Walker announced they would "coach" squads of amateur fighters for a reality show developed by "Survivor" mastermind Mark Burnett and, perhaps, fight each other.
All of this is roughly as likely to happen as Three-Mile Island becoming a Disney theme park, but Canseco deserves SOME credit for signing up to face former NFL kick returner Vai Sikahema on July 12. Like previous efforts from the promoter of "Celebrity Boxing," Canseco is likely to be sporting big, puffy gloves and headgear.
Pretty ignoble attire for a guy who thinks he can get into a cage.
Wesley Snipes
The press dogged Snipes so often in recent months -- for failure to pay taxes -- that I hesitate to pour any more lighter fluid on his image.
But it's hard to neglect the stupendously silly phone call he allegedly made in 2005 in which he inquired if a promoter would set up a fight against Jean-Claude Van Damme. While Snipes has spent years practicing traditional martial arts -- which we now know are as useful in a real fight as a water balloon -- it appears as though the gallons of fake blood in the "Blade" flicks got to his head.
But speaking of the "Muscle from Brussels" …
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