Rick’s Cafe: Mayweather’s Pacquiao-phobia draws eerie parallels to Bobby Fischer

In the Seinfeld episode “The Race,” Jerry is confronted by a former high school classmate, Duncan, who suspects that he cheated when the two raced in the ninth grade. Duncan proposes a rematch, which Jerry is reluctant to accept. After all, Jerry has lived with the victory for 15 years — why chance losing that glory? And so a motto is reborn: “I choose not to run.” If only he’d taken that attitude when Kramer asked him to train that fighting rooster.

Sound familiar, boxing fans? These days, another champion is admiring his unbeaten record and taking much the same tack as Jerry. As you know, Floyd Mayweather Jr. loves jewelery, cars and other shiny objects, and his 41-0 record is chief among his treasures. That zero hangs about his neck like a massive gold pendant, heavy and glossy and covered with supermodel fingerprints. He keeps it in a safe deposit box in an undisclosed location, removing it only occasionally to have it cleaned and buffed, or to pummel Henry Bruseles.

Mayweather has done a lot in his boxing career, and no matter what happens in the future will be known as one of the greatest fighters ever. But when you get down to it, a 41-1 record just doesn’t get it done. It’s top-heavy and unwieldy, like a poorly-assembled Ikea bookcase. How’re you going to chastise the security guard at your gated community with a record like that? You poke him in the eye at 41-0, he tries to sue you. Do it at 41-1, and he just laughs. No respect. That s*** ain’t going to happen.

With that in mind, Floyd has ignored the pleas of the public that put him where he’s at today and rejected every offer to participate in the Fight of the Century with Pacquiao: Including a reported $65 million entreaty from Singapore. To crawl into Mayweather’s head for a moment, I’d imagine he’s pretty sure he can take Pacquiao: Floyd is, after all, one of the best technical fighters of all time. But his apparent concern is that Pac-Man is hopped up on steroids and will come at him like a TV zombie, and Floyd has no experience fighting The Walking Dead. The actual dead, yes (see his record). But when Pacquiao uses his chemical Smurf superpowers or whatever it is he does, Floyd’s afraid he can’t hang.

So even though Pacquiao has agreed to steroid tests before the fight, between every round and after the fight, and even agreed to have his wife and pets tested, Mayweather continues to find excuses not to fight. Reasons such as, global warming. Leap year. I just beat up my ex-girlfriend and I’m in jail. Bad haircut.

So Mayweather will return to the ring instead against WBC welterweight champion Victor Ortiz on September 17, which is quickly becoming known in boxing circles as, The Fight of the … um, That Day I’m Pretty Sure I’m Busy.

Meanwhile, Pacquiao will continue his quest to become the first Filipino Pope.

What other great champions have done such a masterful job of ducking a worthy opponent? When pondering this, my thoughts, curiously, go to one man. Bobby Fischer.

In 1972, the U.S. and Soviet Union played out a chapter of the Cold War on a chess board, when Fischer met Boris Spassky in Iceland for the World Chess Championship. After throwing away the first game on a ludicrous move and forfeiting the second, Fischer proceeded to wipe the floor with Russian and win the title. The match became as well known for Fischer’s wild demands — at one point Game 3 was moved to a back room because he didn’t like the cameras — as it did for actual chess. But the real comparison to Mayweather comes three years later.

That’s when Fischer was scheduled to defend his title against the new Russian champion, Anatoly Karpov. Fischer, who had played no competitive chess since his match with Spassky (Mayweather had a similar, 16-month layoff from boxing), laid out demands for the match, to be held in 1975, that would embarrass Floyd himself. He proposed rules changes (matches continue until one player wins 10 games, draws don’t count, in case of a 9-9 tie, Fischer retains his title), which he said were non-negotiable. When the FIDE Congress agreed to most but not all, Fischer backed out, resigning his title.

In his 1991 autobiography, Karpov expressed profound regret that the match did not take place, and claimed that the lost opportunity to challenge Fischer held back his own chess development. Karpov met with Fischer several times after 1975, in friendly but ultimately unsuccessful attempts to arrange a match.

Now Fischer, of course, was quickly becoming as looney as Scrooge McDuck on mescalin: He eventually became a raging anti-Semite despite being at least one-half Jewish, lost his U.S. citizenship and died in 2008 in Iceland; the latter a very unlikely obituary note unless you’re Eric the Red or a seal.

But one imagines that early in his life, Fischer wore his chess acumen as Mayweather does his boxing record. For both, it was their reason for living. If there’s one thing greater than the quest for an undefeated record, it’s the fear of losing it.

Because we all know what happened in The Race. Jerry eventually agreed to a rematch, and just before the starting gun, Kramer’s car backfired and Jerry once again got a slight head start and won. Maybe the motto shouldn’t be, “Yes We Can.” For some, there’s a certain comfort to sitting on your laurels, and a satisfying ring to the words “I Choose Not To Run.”

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Rick’s Cafe Americain appears each Thursday. Contact: Rickchand@gmail.com.