When boxer Brad Rone died in a Cedar City ring last Friday, his family suffered the cruelest of ironies.
And boxing was given another black eye.
Rone agreed to the bout so he could earn enough money to pay for his mother's funeral. Now Brad Rone will need a funeral, as well. Our hearts go out to the family for its loss. By all accounts, Rone was a courageous and loving son.
The sport that put his life at so much risk should display some of Brad Rone's courage and find a way to keep the next kid who goes down in the ring from losing his, or her, life.
Boxing is the only sport where the main goal is to inflict bodily injury on someone else. And at a time when safety equipment has become so sophisticated and is mandatory in so many sports, boxers are left disgustingly vulnerable to injury. Although not lethal, Rone did take a stiff shot to the kidneys toward the end of the fight. Would kidney pads be such a terrible thing to expect? Would less deadly gloves?
Every time a boxer dies, his death calls to mind Davey Moore, Benny "The Kid" Parrett and all the others who have lost their lives in the ring. Years ago, the career of a young Ogden fighter named Cookie Valencia was on the rise when one of his opponents died under his blows. Valencia fled to the mountains for days. His career was never the same.
Boxing deaths not only affect the family of the fighter who dies, but his opponent, the opponent's family, the promoter, referee — in fact, everyone associated with the event.
Of course, "clean up boxing" has been the battle cry of reformers for generations. One current ploy is to take the word "fight" out of the game. Instead of "fighters," writers and fans are to say "boxers." Instead of the Friday Night Fights, people are to say "bouts" or "matches." But cosmetic language will never be enough to cover the bruises, cuts and scratches of the men who practice what is ironically called "The Sweet Science."
In one of his poems, BYU's Leslie Norris tells of tossing three pence into the boxing ring as a boy to spur on a young boxer. The boxer eventually went blind from the blows he received in the ring.. As an older man, the poet looks back at the incident and marvels at how the boy could fight. That is, Norris says, until "my three, sharp pence cut out his eyes."
Last Friday, Brad Rone lost more than his eyes.
And boxing lost a lot more than money can ever buy back.