A dozen professional boxers couldn't stop him, or even slow him down, for that matter. At this early date, only Nick Casal himself proved capable of bringing his march up the junior welterweight rankings to a halt.
Already the most successful pro fighter to come out of Niagara Falls, N.Y., in a very, very long time, the 19-year-old froze himself, and his career, in place for at least six months by failing a drug test after his first-round stoppage of Martinus Clay in Maryland in June.
"There is no excuse for the mistake I made," Casal said in a statement released last week after Maryland's athletic commission issued the six-month ban after the test revealed cocaine in his system following the June 16 fight. "It was a terrible judgment call on my part." And how.
After fighting nearly once a month during the first year of his career, Casal's next fight won't take place until at least early 2006. His 12-0 record is now 11-0 with one no-contest.
Given Casal's explosive punching power and telegenic style, not to mention the connections of his manager, Shelly Finkel, he might well have been fighting in televised main events by then, rather than in undercard bouts that never get aired.
Instead, he'll likely spend at least a few more outings toiling in the world of six- and eight-rounders.
The boxing ramifications are secondary, though. This is a real person in the real world we're talking about, not simply an athletic entity.
You'd think lectures about the dangers of cocaine would be unnecessary at this late date, given the wreckage the drug has strewn throughout all walks of public life.
If Casal needs further evidence, though, he needs to look no farther than the history of his own division in boxing.
Before Nick Casal was born, a guy named Aaron Pryor ruled the junior welterweight division like no 140-pounder has before or since. "The Hawk" moved up to the then-lightly regarded class from lightweight in 1980, because none of the 135-pound belt-holders wanted any part of his viciously aggressive style.
After obliterating Antonio Cervantes, who had been considered one of the division's best ever, in four rounds, Pryor won eight straight title fights, all by knockout. Two of them came against another all-time great, Alexis Arguello.
Their first meeting, on Nov. 11, 1982, is still considered one of the greatest slugfests ever. Arguello landed dozens of his devastating straight rights, and seemingly had him ready to go in the 12th round.
But in the corner, Pryor's trainer, Panama Lewis, gave him a drink from a black bottle. Invigorated far more than one would expect by mere water, Pryor turned the fight in the 13th and stopped Arguello in the 14th.
Later named "The Fight of the Decade" by "Ring" magazine, it was the unquestioned apex of Pryor's career, but the furor over the bottle's contents -- some said the unknown substance included cocaine, other reports had it as peppermint schnapps, while Lewis would only describe the concoction as "my special blend" -- led the World Boxing Association to order a rematch.
Pryor won that one in 10 rounds. Around the same time, Lewis was convicted of removing the padding from the gloves of another boxer under his tutelage, Luis Resto. Resto's opponent, Billy Collins, was severely injured in the fight, ending his career. Collins subsequently committed suicide at age 22.
Whether or not the trainer used cocaine to revive Pryor in the first meeting with Arguello, though, the fighter was no stranger to the expensive white powder. His string of knockouts ended in 1984, and by the next year, he was too far gone to continue defending his title. Still undefeated, his title was stripped, his career effectively over at age 29.
One screw-up doesn't doom Casal to follow Pryor's path. This is, despite the knockouts and headlines, a 19-year-old kid. And there aren't many of those who haven't done something colossally stupid at some point.
Most, though, don't have a lucrative career in professional sports ahead of them. Or the same sort of family and community support behind them.
Ray Casal trains his son, and Lesli Casal works tirelessly helping maintain his career. Both juggle that commitment with running Casal's Boxing Club on Hyde Park Boulevard, where dozens of kids and adults train daily.
"I have disappointed so many people and I regret this more than words can say," Casal said. "I hurt my parents and their business, I hurt my manager and promoter, who have done more for me then anyone could ever understand. They trusted and believed in me and I let them down."
In the age of hypocrites like Rafael Palmeiro and any number of other high-profile home-run hitters you care to mention, you have to give Casal credit for honesty. Neither he nor his parents nor his manager have made any sort of attempt to deflect blame by questioning the test's validity or claiming someone must have spiked the vial in question.
That's a smart move, as absolutely no one wants to hear excuses from professional athletes when it comes to such matters anymore.
There are those who legitimately feel betrayed. Like younger fighters who put on the gloves after reading or hearing about his success as a world-class amateur and novice pro.
"I hurt the kids in the gym who look up to me, and I've hurt the fans in Niagara Falls who have supported me in the hopes that I would make a good name for myself and the city," he said. "I can only promise that I will rise above this with a greater understanding of what is really important to me and I will never again let down the people who have loved and supported me through this time in my life."
You want to chalk this whole mess up to youthful stupidity, augmented by a job that only fuels the sense of invincibility most young men carry well into their 20s, or beyond.
If Casal ever needs a reminder that he's not bulletproof, he can call up his page at boxrec.com, the sport's definitive database, and read the line describing his fight against Clay back in June.
"TKO1 win for Casal was changed to a NC (no contest) after he tested positive for cocaine after the fight," it reads.
That line will remain there no matter how many victories, or even championships, come to be listed above it. It can either serve as a very bad omen, like Pryor's mysterious black bottle, or as motivation to make people forget it.
"I am truly sorry for the hurt this has caused, and I will do my best to make it up," Casal said.
He and everyone around him are saying all the right things in the wake of the positive test and suspension. But only Nick Casal can do them.
| Niagara Falls Reporter | www.niagarafallsreporter.com | Aug. 23 2005 |