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It's easy to see Lacy above all

By GARY SHELTON
Published August 7, 2005

TAMPA - From up there, he could see the world. Standing there on the ropes, his fist above his head, Jeff Lacy invited it to take a good look.

Can Wales see him from here? More important, can Joe Calzaghe, the next stone in the road, make him out?

Can Denmark see him? Does Mikkel Kessler, the "Viking Warrior," want to stand in the way of his power?

Can Germany see him? How about Markus "Boom Boom" Beyer? Does he want to take a number?

Here above the universe, particularly the Tampa Bay portion of it, Lacy invited the sport of boxing to look upon him. He had just made short work of Robin "Rulebreaker" Reid, knocking him down four times in seven rounds, adding a second championship belt.

And, gee, Robin. How do you like your room now?

For Lacy, this was a spiffy little workout for the home folks, and he hit Reid with almost every landmark in Tampa Bay, from Busch Gardens to the Pier, from Kojak's to Chattaway. Along the way, Lacy showed a bit of focus, a bit of resilience, a bit of poise.

Focus? There are easier things for a boxer than fighting at home, where pressure builds and expectations grow. Promoter Gary Shaw fought Lacy on this one and, of course, he lost. Doesn't everyone lose to Lacy? Especially when Lacy was inflexible when it came to fighting at home. Resilience? Yeah, there was some of that, too. Say what you want about Reid (and we will). He's an easy target, given that he has been whining since his plane landed at the airport. Still, he's a crafty fighter who has been around a long time, and it speaks well of Lacy that he did not consider him dodgeable. No one had ever knocked down Reid; Lacy did it four times.

Poise? If ever a fighter had to gather himself, Lacy had to on Saturday night. Reid was, to pick a word, crafty, if you accept the word "crafty" as "a dirty, street-brawling son of a gun." Hannibal Lecter, for instance, was "crafty." And the Dalton Gang.

Talk about your street-fighters. If the match had gone any longer, Reid might have cracked a stool across Lacy's shoulders. It was like watching Conrad Dobler fight, with a little Jack Tatum mixed in with a dash of Hulk Hogan-as-bad-guy. Also, he held more than Kenyatta Walker.

Reid held. He pushed. He head-butted. He hit low, wide and on the back of Lacy's head. Evidently, the heavy bag Reid works out on must be worn out on the lower-back portion, just above the kidneys. I mean, have you ever seen a final scorecard where one fighter had four knockdowns and the other had two unassisted tackles?

Put it this way: Reid would make a perfectly splendid strong safety for the Bucs. Provided that nude-modeling career of his doesn't work out, of course.

Ah, what a perfect villain Reid turned out to be. He whined. He skirted the rules. He stuck out his tongue. After the fight, after being knocked down for the first time in his career, and the second, and the third, and the fourth, he groused that Lacy wasn't as good as everyone thought.

Gee, Rob. Except for that, how did your night go?

In the end, none of it mattered. Lacy was unshakeable (yes, Reid shook him, too). Reid turned out to be just another brawler who knew he was outnumbered, and he tried every dirty trick imaginable to keep it interesting as long as possible. When opposing a lead-pipe cinch, it was only surprising Reid didn't bring a lead pipe.

Dan Birmingham, Lacy's trainer, knew it was coming. He mentioned it to the refereee at the weigh-in. And during the prefight instructions.

"At the end of every round, the first thing I would tell Jeff was "calm down. Calm down,' " Birmingham said.

Reid never had a chance. Better to fight Little Joe on the Ponderosa, Capt. Kirk on the Enterprise or Batman in the Batcave to take on Lacy with a homefield advantage.

So finally we know: Hook beats crook.

Especially the Left Hook.

In his career, Lacy seems destined to win other big fights and other major belts. When it is over, however, this may be the moment he remembers as the sweetest of his career. The image of Lacy hovering above the crowd, the exultation on his face, will be frozen in time.

This was his gift to Tampa Bay. He made boxing matter again. During his most frenzied moments, when Reid was dazed and retreating, you could feel the blood lust in the air.

Oh, there was three times the money to be made if this fight had been in front of the high-rollers of Vegas, but Lacy wouldn't hear of this. He wanted to flex his muscles up close. With more than 15,000 fans in the St. Pete Times Forum, roughly double the last Roy Jones Jr. fight here, Tampa Bay seemed to appreciate it.

Who knows? Another year, and maybe another fight will come here.

Considering his weight class (super middleweight), there is surprising thunder in Lacy's fists. No one has ever doubted that. But the rest of Lacy's skills are blossoming, too.

"I wouldn't want to fight me," Lacy said.

So what is next? Immediately after the fight, he began calling for Calzaghe. Lacy even suggested he would travel to Wales to fight him, a risky move.

After that, who knows? Maybe Beyer. Maybe Kressler. Maybe Bernard Hopkins or Jermain Taylor. Maybe Lacy will move down a weight class and fight his buddy Winky Wright, a delicious prospect when you consider Lacy's power and Wright's defense. Maybe he will move up and fight Antonio Tarver, also a tempting pairing.

Ah, but perhaps the question is not who. Perhaps the question is where.

Maybe he can fight here. Either way, boxing matters again. Tampa Bay is paying attention to the kid with the big fists.

Stay tuned, won't you?

[Last modified August 7, 2005, 01:31:12]