It’s called a walk-out bout, but Donovan "Da Bomb" George did just the opposite, stopping fans in the doorway.
After watching a lackluster win by an out-of-shape Hasim Rahman for the better part of an hour, fans in Rochester, NY were waking from their naps and heading for the exits. It took only a matter of seconds for George to return the energy to the arena.
His performance in the ring was impressive, but George won over the crowd by sheer force of his personality.
Eager to end things after the televised portion of the show went off the air, the event promoter sent George’s opponent into the ring before the posse from the previous bout had cleared out. He then turned and waved for George to begin his ringwalk.
The 22-year old stood at the end of the aisle and refused to move.
The event’s matchmaker waved to him more urgently.
George shook his head. "Not until I get my song."
After a bit of scrambling, the PA crew produced the song, which pays homage to Da Bomb, complete with air raid sirens and whistles of incoming artillery shells. George began jumping and led his entourage of two prancing down the aisle.
George’s first punch had his opponent reeling. His third had him on the floor. The hapless foe got up twice, and both times, George dutifully clubbed him to the mat again before the referee finally waved things off. He fell fourteen ticks shy of an old Nic Cage movie as his opponent was gone in 74 seconds.
Then things got interesting. As handlers ran into the ring to tend to the loser, and manager Mike Michael of Cestus Productions and trainer/father Pete George ran in to congratulate the winner, George cleared a patch of canvas and did a back flip, landing on his feet.
There was one ringside photographer who hadn’t packed his equipment after the main event, and Michael and George hijacked him, posing for a variety of photos. George leaned toward his manager, trying to get his red, white and blue mouthpiece removed, but Michael was too busy rounding up personnel for the prolonged photo shoot.
When the mouth guard was finally plucked from George’s lips, he began a stream of chatter that didn’t end until he left the arena. He pointed and jabbered at the photographer as if his Nikon could pick up the audio. George then ran to the corner and posed with a representative of the New York State Athletic Commission, because, well, anyone in attendance is a friend.
When George took a tour of the ring, pointing and shouting to the remaining fans, Michael, whose energy level meets that of his fighter’s in a perfect match of manager and athlete, continued directing the hapless photographer. He threw his arm around the trainer and posed again. Then he kissed the elder George on the cheek, holding it until the shot was retrieved. Michael held up his finger—One more photo, then pretended to punch George’s father in the chin, holding his fist in position until he was confident the moment was preserved on film.
The threesome left the ring, making sure to talk to everyone they encountered. George was the first to reach the end of the aisle, where just mere moments ago, he held his ground until he heard his music. "Ok," he shouted to no one in particular. "Where’s the after-party at?"
The words sound like a typical spoiled athlete, but there isn’t a trace of diva in Donovan George. It’s hard not to smile at the antics. George seems more like a fan who won the chance to be a fighter for a night, and smirks like a toddler who knows he’s just too cute to get in any real trouble.
But there is more than just smack talk and sizzle to George. He stopped again to pose for photos with fans who followed him down the aisle. So busy with the post-fight meet n greet, George still hasn’t had his gloves removed, a chore that is usually taken care of in the ring.
"Where’s Mike," he asks suddenly, worried that he’s lost sight of the manager that helped him secure a contract with Top Rank Promotions earlier this year.
"He’s still ringside," answered his father. "Talking to people."
Michael finally caught up and began to remove George’s gloves. He unlaced one and started to tug, but an approaching reporter was the shiny thing that caught the fleeting attention of manager and fighter.
"Do you want to do an interview?" asked Michael.
George began his schtick before getting an answer. "I’m just sorry that my opponent didn’t give me the chance to show more of what I could do," he crowed.
Concerned dad Pete George tried to convince the crew to head toward the dressing room, but a security guard stopped the media at the doorway. This baffled Michael, who has never met a person he didn’t love. "But, he’s with us," he stammered to the security guard. "He wants to do an interview!"
Away from the public, in the dark corners of the arena, a different George emerged. When his gloves are finally removed, someone expressed concern that it took so long. "It’s ok," said George, who was originally scheduled to fight at 8:10 PM, but hit the ring close to midnight due to changes in the TV broadcast. "I’ve had them on for five hours. Another few minutes don’t matter."
George took the time to speak to a local fighter that made his pro debut in the first bout of the night. The fighter assumed George was debuting too, a slight to which many 14-0 boxers might take offense. Instead, George joked, "I just ever let myself get hit, so my face still looks pretty."
George also went out of his way to pay respect to ring announcer Michael Buffer, losing all ego and pretense and sounding like a fan in the upper deck. "It’s an honor to meet you Mr. Buffer," he says in a shaky voice.
He extends his hand, but Buffer opts for the fist bump he offers main event fighters in the ring before getting the crowd ready to rumble. The impact is not lost on George. With speed and power and a personality that can light up the waning minutes of a card like an explosion, Da Bomb will get his in-ring fist bump soon enough.
