Investigating Death

Leavander Johnson and Stacy Young had little in common. Johnson was a 35-year-old, African-American prizefighter from Atlantic City, New Jersey. A fan favorite, the sinewy but muscled 130-pounder won the International Boxing Federation's lightweight title on June 17. Young was a 30-year-old, Caucasian mother of four living in Bradenton, Florida. She was 5-foot-7, 240 pounds and had never trained or fought before entering a Toughman fight on June 14, 2003.

They now share a commonality: Both died as a result of injuries sustained in a boxing ring.

Johnson collapsed in the dressing room of the MGM Grand Garden Arena after absorbing 409 punches in a brutal September 17 bout with Jesus Chavez. Doctors performed brain surgery and induced a coma but he died five days later. Placed on life support after getting pummeled in Sarasota, Florida, by a fighter 60 pounds lighter and 10 years younger, Young died two days later. Scans revealed swelling and hemorrhaging on the brain.

Much like Young's passing, Johnson's death has made its rounds in the media, accompanied by the hindsighting (Is everything being done to ensure safety?) and prognosticating (What changes will be made?) typical of boxing-related deaths. The Johnson tragedy has also reignited Don Meyers crusade to overhaul rules concerning combat sports, a fire sparked by the death of Young, his sister-in-law. As he sees it, both deaths were preventable.

"Her death was the result of bad legislation and politics," says Meyers, who lives in Florida and has cajoled lawmakers in some states into banning Toughman. Now Nevada is in his crosshairs. Meyers claims the five-person Advisory Committee on Boxer Health and Safety, created by the Nevada State Athletic Commission to investigate Johnson's death and boxing safety overall—findings are due April 1—is a shame, a ruse.

Waiting six months for a report, Meyers says, is tantamount to sanctioning death. ""How many people could die in six months?" he asks. Two have died this year. Super lightweight Martin Sanchez died following a July 1 fight. Six boxers have died since 1994; nine since 1975 and 12 overall since 1933 in Reno and Las Vegas.

"This (six-month reporting period) indicates they have no concern for the boxers," says Meyers, who claims the panel is duplicitous. "Why are they bypassing the medical advisory board in favor of creating a panel? You've already got the people in place, why are they not leading it?"

Meyers claims the panel—public relations guru Sig Rogich, entrepreneur Luther Mack, veterinarian Dr. James Nave, cardiologist Dr. Charles Ruggeroli and state Assemblyman Harvey Munford—lack the medical chops to conduct a satisfactory investigation. Rogich, Mack, Nave and Ruggeroli are former commissioners for the NSAC, which regulates boxing. But Myers is unconvinced. Rogich is a "PR master," he says. Mack "owns several McDonalds" and has an "honorary" doctorate. Nave is a veterinarian. Ruggeroli is "a cardiologist without any ring experience." The panel, Meyers says, is a face-saving move by the governor (Kenny Guinn) and the athletic commission.

"This panel is like having a car mechanic look at a plane crash," he says. "The fact that the panel is not being lead by medical experts nor contains members who can effectively conduct a serious medical review compromises the integrity of the investigation. Since the panel does not contain the necessary medical competency, it puts boxers, who are in a dangerous sport to begin with, in increased danger as Nevada moves to protect its own interests and the interests of major promoters ... Nothing will ever come out of the investigation because this is not considered to be a serious issue."

Gov. Guinn's press secretary Steve George says the governor did not have a hand in picking the panel. Marc Ratner, executive director of the Nevada State Athletic Commission, thinks Meyers is well intentioned but wrong. He's gotten the panel and its mission twisted. He probably doesn't know that Rogich is a former chairman of the boxing commission and that four of the five, Munford excluded, are former boxing commissioners, Ratner says. Probably doesn't know that Ruggeroli is a former member of the NSAC Medical Advisory Board and that Dr. Ruggeroli is a top-notch cardiologist.

"It aggravates me that he doesn't know the facts," Ratner says.

Meyers does, in fact, know this. He says Nevada's medical procedures might not be expansive enough. Basic requirements include: an ophthalmologic exam, tests for HIV, Hepatitis B Surface Antigen and Hepatitis C Antibody, an MRI brain scan and a regular physical exam. Add these stipulations for professional fighters 36 years old and older, those who've fought more than 425 rounds since being licensed as a professional boxer or kickboxer, and those who haven't fought in the last 36 months: neurological exam, additional blood tests, chest X-ray and a comprehensive physical exam. They are certainly cost-prohibitive, he says, draining a journeyman or mid-level fighter's wallet before he or she even steps in the ring. Adding more medical preconditions might cause fighters and promoters to hoot and holler, he says.

Ratner says the panel will not be an ivory tower-esque construct, a bunch of commissioners pontificating from the plush seats behind a dais and disconnected from what goes on in training camps, sparring sessions and in the ring. All kinds of people will weigh in on the hearings (the first one scheduled in early November), Ratner says—trainers, boxers, doctors, medical professionals. And anything and everything will be on the table for consideration, from heavier gloves and sparring restrictions to shorter fights (possibly from 12 rounds to 10) and the controversial topic of using headgear like in amateur boxing. Most importantly, Ratner says a critical eye will be cast on what happens in training camp, the grueling six- to 10-week sessions that prepare fighters for bouts.

"People get hurt in training and we don't always know about it," Ratner says.

The panel has its backers. John G. Rodwan Jr. wrote on fightnews.com: "No doubt the Advisory Committee on Boxer Health and Safety will seek to find real solutions, not easy (and inadequate) answers. Flip Homansky and (ringside physician Dr. Margaret) Goodman are, I believe, willing to look at things, including the potential value of headgear ... I hope the new committee will come up with ways to help."

Review-Journal sports writer Kevin Iole, who covers boxing, agrees that something must be done, "Whether the answer is stationing a doctor in the dressing-room area full time or trainers stopping fighters more quickly or more extensive medical testing or having a veteran referee outside the ring that the referee in the bout can consult with between rounds," he wrote on September 24.

As chairman of the boxing commission, Raymond "Skip" Avansino Jr., recommended the panelists and says he stands by his decisions.

"The buck stops here," he says. "I'm very proud of the Advisory Committee on Boxer Health and Safety."

To Meyers' claim that the commission's medical advisory board should tackle the boxer safety issue, Avansino's retort is simple: No. "It's not the province of the advisory board to review the procedures and health of boxers. It has strict rules. The medical advisory board reviews medical data that is referred to it."

And the panel as a PR tool to divert attention?

"The overarching goal is to protect the health and safety of these boxers. Selected people who are knowledgeable in boxing will be brought in front of the panel," Avansino says. "I resent anyone questioning the integrity of the intervention and the process. We will have no limitations on the recommendations. We'll look at reports on fight injuries and deaths the last three years. We'll look at protocol for fight stoppages, at medical technologies used to determine fitness, at everything. Could there be stricter guidelines for boxers who were knocked out in previous fights? Are there methods to evaluate head trauma caused by fighting? These are the types of things they will evaluate."

Experts or no, Meyers says the panel is powerful and has been prettified with people with long résumés but unfit to make rules. Take the issue of brain injuries. "Who is tracking them?" Meyers asks.

(The NSAC's recent track record on brain injuries includes permanently suspending the licenses of bantamweight Leopoldo Gonzalez—doctors found severe bleeding in his brain after he was knocked down twice in the 11th round of his May 13, 2004, match with Samuel Lopez—and Henderson's William Abelyan, who suffered a brain injury after the 10th-round stoppage of his May 27, 2004, bout with Phillip Payne.)

Meyers takes credit for turning a legislative tide against Toughman, which has since been banned in at least 14 states. Success in reforming boxing won't be so easy. Attempts by Senate Minority leader Harry Reid, D-Nev., and Arizona Republican and possible presidential contender Rep. John McCain to create a federal boxing commission have been repeatedly knocked down. Since boxing is big business in Nevada, particularly Las Vegas, could moves made to increase safety be leavened by moves to preserve the blood-and-guts—and, sometimes, life-and-death—battles that put thousands of fannies in seats and glue millions of eyes to televisions?

Then again, if major injuries and deaths continue, will fans turn away?

Not counting on federal intervention anytime soon, Meyers intends to maintain the protest.

"Nevada is the leading place for boxing," Meyers says. "Boxers (there) are not being taken care of."