ARE YOU STILL HERE?

August 7, 2006 - by Nat Gottlieb

In a career that has had more ups and downs than the proverbial roller coaster, the one constant in Hasim Rahman's life has been that no matter what happens, he has stayed buckled in his seat.

Up, down, derailed and rained upon with criticism, Rahman kept his seat belt on and waited for the next peak after a valley. He got knocked clear out of the ring, lost a fight on a savage blow after the bell, and was forced to wait through four agonizing fight cancellations, yet the man simply wouldn't go away.

So here he is, heat of summer 2006, Hasim Rahman is a world champion who on Saturday will defend his belt against the boxer who popped him out of the ring seven long years ago, Oleg Maskaev. If Rahman wins, he is a lock for a mega-showdown this fall with another belt holder, most likely Wladimir Klitschko.

How improbable is it for Rahman to be in this position today? Consider where he was three years ago after losing a championship bout to John Ruiz. That loss capped a nightmarish stretch in which Rahman first captured the heavyweight championship from Lennox Lewis, lost it right back in a rematch, then battled through two more high profile bouts with nothing to show but a loss caused in no small part by a head butt, and a controversial draw.

Rahman is an anomaly. He is the boxing postman: neither snow, nor rain nor defeat, nor gloom of Vegas nights, has kept Rahman from his appointed rounds.

"Every low point we encountered along the way, he would come back bigger and stronger," said Rahman's manager, Steve Nelson, who has been in his corner for all 48 of his professional fights.

Nelson was there, but would rather have not been, on that cold November night in Atlantic City's Convention Hall, 1999, when Rahman, comfortably ahead on all judges cards in the 8th round, would get belted through the ropes by Maskaev, crush a CompuBox monitor on his way down, and find himself out cold on the hardwood floor. It took Rahman five seconds more than the referee's 10-count before he was able to sit up, confused as to why he wasn't still in the ring, and where his victory had gone.

Not only did Rahman get an "L" on his record that night, he also got an "M," for melee, which broke out in the stands over the sudden and unpopular ending. All in all, not a night to build one's career on.

While that fight may be a bit too long in tooth to inspire revenge, Rahman appears still eager to return the favor in kind to Maskaev.

"Rock really wants to avenge that knock out," Nelson said. "He didn't like being a human highlight film on all the TV shows. He wants to go in there on Saturday and make a statement."

A "statement" is what Rahman has been trying to make for roughly the last 21 months, but so far all he has been able to do is stutter.

Though a champion, Rahman finds himself in some alternate heavyweight universe, where the buzz has passed him over in favor of Klitschko; the surprising Sergei Lyakhovich, and the outlandishly tall Russian, Nicolay Valuev, all co-belt holders.

A year after the devastating lost to Ruiz, Rahman seemingly had thrust himself back again into the championship picture when he beat Kali Meehan in a WBC title eliminator in November of 2004. That victory by TKO was supposed to have put him in line for a fight with champion Vitali Klitschko. But Klitschko's fragile body would keep Rahman in a boxing twilight zone, neither here nor there, for months.

Rahman's hurry-up-and-wait saga with Klitscho had more medical terminology than fight lingo. By the time it was over, Rahman could have qualified for a quasi-nursing degree after answering so many questions about Klitschko's seemingly endless list of ailments.

The fight was scheduled and then cancelled three times last year due to training camp injuries suffered by Klitschko - April 30, June 18 and July 23. A new date was set for Nov. 12, but by now Rahman had all but given up any notion he would ever touch gloves with Klitschko.

"I felt right along that it was never going to come off," Rahman said. With that in mind, Rahman became overly fearful he would step on a nail, or eat toxic press lunch food, so bad was the karma Klitschko was giving off. "Every day when I'd be on press tours for the fight, I made sure I didn't accidentally hurt myself in any way."

Preserving his health became almost as paramount to Rahman as training, convinced as he was that if he was ever going to win a world title he'd have to take things in his own hands. His manager set the table.

"We didn't want to wait any longer," Nelson said, "so we decided it was better to tell the WBC we wanted to fight for an interim title. This way, if Vitali didn't get better, then we would have a belt. It was a risk, but it paid off."

Starved for heavyweight sanctioning fees by now, the WBC was only too happy to oblige. Rahman was matched up on Aug. 13 with the No. 2 ranked challenger, Monte Barrett.

At the very least, Rahman figured the fight would help generate some "heat" among boxing fans, thereby increasing his drawing power in the by now almost mythical showdown with Klitschko. Rahman figured wrong. The roller coaster, unfortunately, was on its down slope.

Barrett fought the entire 12 rounds defensively, which caused the crowd to boo loud and often. Rahman chased, Barrett ran, and when the marathon was over, the Rock had won a unanimous decision, but left the unfair impression that he was a boring fighter.

"Monte had always been a slugger, so I expected it to be a sensational fight," Rahman said. "But it didn't go that way. At the end of the day, though, I got the win, and was the interim champion."

In a division with four different champions, Rahman now had sort of an "auxiliary" title, the kind only friends and family care about. Rahman got to hug his title a few times, then warm-and-fuzzy time was over. With three months to his scheduled Nov. 12 fight with Klitschko, it was back to, "Waiting for Vitali."

October came, Klitschko's limbs were apparently still functioning, so Rahman pitched camp again with trainer Thell Torrance. Each day he trained, progress was measured more by the "no news is good news" from Klitschko's camp, than by what he was accomplishing in his own.

With just nine tantalizing days remaining before the scheduled fight, Rahman dared to think he might actually get it on with Klitschko. But then Klitschko's body said nyet, or what ever it is in Ukranian for, "no way Jose." Klitschko had suffered a knee injury and postponed the fight. Six days later, Klitschko did the humane thing, and mercifully killed the bout by announcing his retirement. While disappointed, Rahman was glad to no longer be joined at the hip to Klitschko, a surgical separation almost as satisfying as his release the following month from longtime promoter, Don King, with whom he had been embroiled in an ongoing lawsuit.

Rahman's gamble with Barrett had paid off. The WBC immediately ruled that Klitschko's belt was Rahman's, which was terrific in some ways, and not so great in others. Rahman was now being referred to as, "that guy who was handed a championship belt."

Still, there was upside. Rahman had a new promoter in Bob Arum, and could now move on with his career. The WBC was only too happy to put a postscript on the departure of Klitschko. Asked by email about the cancellations, WBC president Jose Sulaiman wrote back: "The Vitaly (sic) Klitschko of 4 or more postponements has been the highest in the 44 year history of the WBC."

So delighted was the WBC to finally have a working champion, that it threw out its own rule book and leap-frogged James Toney from fifth to mandatory challenger, leaving No. 1 rated Maskaev in Alphabet Limbo. Bad for Maskaev, but good for Rahman and Arum. Toney, a certain future Hall of Famer, was a much bigger draw than the Staten Island-based, former resident of Zhambul, Kazakhstan (try pronouncing that, let alone promoting it).

HBO, meanwhile, made everybody even happier by scheduling the fight on a free preview weekend, meaning the bout would be available to roughly 90 million cable and satellite-wired homes.

To Rahman, it looked like this was the "Big One," the highest profile fight he'd been in since his flip-flop with Lewis in 2001. In Rahman's snake-bitten world, however, it turned out to be a double-edged sword, one which he ultimately fell on.

March 18, Boardwalk Hall, Atlantic City.

Toney shows up for the fight straight from Butterbean's training table. A confident, supremely-conditioned Rahman takes it right to the elusive Toney, who's hard to hit even at twice his normal size. It is a decent fight, but lacking in consistent action. As the final bell rings, it looks like the decision could go either way. In his corner, Rahman waits for the judges, feeling queasy.

"I was a little nervous," Rahman said. "I looked across the ring to his corner, I see Al Haymon (advisor to boxers such as Floyd Mayweather Jr.). I see Don King. I see (promoter) Dan Goosen. I was going up against like an Army. They got all the people in their corner, and I didn't knock him out."

What is Bob Arum, Hasim, chopped liver? But let's go to the judges cards. One had it, 117-111 for Rahman, the other two called it even, 114-114. It was a draw. In the eyes of an unforgiving public, the feeling was that Rahman had simply retained a title which had been handed to him. "I beat him, I know I beat him," Rahman said, not for the first time.

Rahman was also aware that there was worse yet to come. Having shown up with a spare stomach, Toney had a built-in "excuse."

"People were going to say, ‘Oh if Toney (237 pounds) had come in in good condition, he would have won easy,'" Rahman said. "Well Toney fought the same weight (233) and beat John Ruiz (later a DQ on a failed drug test by Toney), and the same weight (235) when he walked through (Dominick) Guinn. Believe me, he had to come in in good condition for our fight for him to fight the way he did."

Few, however, saw it that way. Just as Rahman predicted, many writers did Monday Morning Quarterback, "what if" stories centered around Toney's blubber. For Rahman, the reigning heavyweight champion, it was the same old same old.

"Nobody gave me any credit. They were all making excuses for Toney. I walked right through all of Toney's best shots. I get no credit for that," Rahman said.

"Maybe I should have used my jab more, and my right hand more," said Rahman, second-guessing himself. "If I had followed my game plan - jab, throw right, come back with the hook - it would have been different. But I got a little hard-headed, what with all the hype and the excitement."

Rahman was still buckled into his roller coast seat, however, and so on he went. The challenger this Saturday may not be very well known, but Rahman, in his determined way, sees it as yet another good opportunity for him.

"People have short memories in this game," Rahman said. "All you have to do is smash up one or two good guys, and that's it. Look at Wladimir. He beats (Samuel) Peter, who had never beaten anybody, then instead of choosing Lamont (Brewster, former champ), he picks Chris Byrd, who he can look good against. And for that, people say he is number one across the board. Put me in that position, I would have fought Lamont."

The resilient Rahman takes comfort knowing this time that he will not have to fight a boxer as tough to pin down as Toney.

"This guy (Maskaev) is not going to run, he is not hard to hit, and with me that's a recipe for disaster," Rahman said. "The only way for me to get the fans and the TV to want to see me fight Klitschko, I have to make a big impression, get the kind of knockout they'll talk about for the rest of the year. I plan on using him (Maskaev) as a trampoline to bigger and better fights."

Rahman, who turns 34 in November, knows this is his last ride. He has the ending to his career already scripted -- a brave act in itself, considering how little control he has had over his career.

"If I have my way, I will knock out Maskaev, knock out Klitschko and then I'm gone" Rahman said. "I would have done everything I could have done. I had no amateur career to speak off (10 fights), no Olympic medals. I was 22 before I had my first professional fight. I'm an over-achiever. After I beat these two, I'll leave it to the others to fight amongst themselves, and pretty much walk away."

If all goes right - certainly a major "if" here -- Hasim Rahman will trade his seat belt for a championship belt, and walk away from his roller coaster career, never to return.

"I can leave the game with everything intact, say it's been lovely, and that I left on my own terms."

In a sport full of dreamers, Rahman clings to his, still resolute, after all these years.