The cut man
The Herald Sun, 18 January, 2003
download a pdf of this articleMischa Merz meets Joe Souza, a man with boxing in his blood who has made blood his career
Imagine you go to Central Casting
looking for a wily old boxing
character with a gap-toothed
mouth from which flows stories of
great champions and high drama.
His language is scattered with colourful
expletives which he calls "cussin".
He wears thick-rimmed glasses, a
bomber jacket with a pair of boxing
gloves embroidered on the breast and
sports a white buzz cut.
Underneath is a T-shirt that reads:
"Don't box ugly people. They've got
nothing to lose".
His tattoos are a blue-green blur. He
has to have a certain charm and easy
familiarity yet also be feisty and belligerent
when he needs to be.
Any bets Central Casting will hand
you Joe Souza who, tomorrow, will be
plying his trade in the corner of Texas-based
junior welterweight Jesse James
Leija when he faces triple world champion
Kostya Tszyu at Telstra Dome?
But Souza has more than the right
look and lingo to play that old boxing
character. He also has the knowledge.
He's one of the four or five best cut
men in world boxing and can make the
difference between winning and losing a
title fight.
His job is to tend cuts and stop the
bleeding between rounds. He's in constant
work, flying all over the US and
beyond to tend to boxers such as former
IBF super featherweight champion Arturo
Gatti, Fernando Vargas, former
WBC welterweight champion Pernell
Whitaker and now Leija.
The ring is a lonely place. A boxer's
corner is the closest thing he has to a
team. Mostly three or four men have no
more than about 45 seconds in which to
give the boxer a drink, wipe him down,
cool him with an ice pack, apply
Vaseline, tell him how the fight is going,
tell him what he is doing wrong, or
doing right, give him encouragement,
inspire him, cajole him, reassure him
and send him out for another three
minutes of battle.
If he is cut, those 45 seconds are all
Souza has to stop the bleeding and
swelling. It's no place for panic.
His actions can keep the fighter in the
game. Yet there are no accolades and
not much glory in the work. Only diehard,
cable TV viewing boxing fans
would recognise the face.
But a good cut man can be as
important to a boxer as any strategic
advice. Souza says it's a job in which old
men dominate. And it certainly needs a
calm, focused disposition. Someone
who isn't squeamish and has pretty
much seen it all.
"Anyone who's successful is a man
who's been in the game a long time."
AND for Souza, that's more than 30
years. He retired as a bantamweight
fighter in 1964 after a first
round KO in his fifth professional fight.
He became a trainer and when he
retired, his kids begged him to go back to
the gym because, as he says, he was
"driving them nuts" at home.
He's been operating at the San Fernando
Boxing Gym in San Antonio, Texas ever
since, though he originally hails from
Massachusetts. At 68, he's ready to travel
anywhere he's needed; New York, Las
Vegas, New Jersey and now, Melbourne.
"I was doing little stuff, club stuff when
I just happened to get lucky with James
(Leija) and Arturo Gatti, although I still do
the little guys, the four and six rounders.
Never forget the little guys," he says.
His gym is usually full of amateurs, but
he's been in the corner for some of the
world's best professionals.
"My secret is that I have a passion for
blood, that's the God's honest truth."
His forearms are streaked with tiny
white scars where he has experimented,
like a mad scientist, on his own flesh to
come up with the best methods for
stemming the flow of plasma.
In Australia, the only legal substance
used is adrenalin mixed with Vaseline —
one part to 1000. In the US authorities
also permit clotting agents Avitene and
Thrombin. "Other than that, it's pressure,"
Souza says.
He won't talk about Leija before the
fight, but word has it he cuts easily.
Leija has done no sparring in the two
weeks he's spent in Melbourne preparing,
while Tszyu has been clocking up the
rounds in the competition ring set up for
him at Telstra Dome.
An accidental cut that stops the fight
before the start of the fifth round will
automatically end the contest in a draw. It
will go to the judges' scorecards if it is
stopped after the fifth round.
But this is a no-go zone for the tightlipped
Leija camp.
But Souza will reveal some dramas
when dealing with other fighters of note,
such as Gatti, who is known to cut easily.
"In the Gatti versus Wilson Rodriguez
fight, Gatti went down in the fourth and
the doctor comes over screaming and
yelling at me to look at the cut and I'm
praying to him (if you know what that
means) and he's grabbed my arm and I'm
trying to keep him from looking at the cut.
Then later I've got Gatti in a headlock,
putting pressure on the cut and he's
screaming 'It hurts' and I'm telling him
'Shut up', but he KO'd Rodriguez in the
sixth round," he says with certain pride.
A doctor can stop a fight if a cut is
bleeding too much and Souza is determined
to prevent that happening.
Sometimes it's not the doctor who
causes him trouble, though. He remembers
heavyweight Michael Grant's reaction
to being cut for the first time.
"He came back to the corner and he
was just going berserk. It was just a small
laceration but he went bananas. 'Oh, no
I'm cut, I'm cut'. I just told him it was fine.
Even with a big cut, you know what you're
doing, it's like going into your favourite
supermarket and knowing where the fruit
is. I know what I need to do. I know I'm
there for the cuts. If you've got two guys
workin' the fighter I don't say nothin'," he
says. "I just do what I gotta do."
Leija has a modest, close-knit entourage
and his preparation has included
morning runs and gym sessions.
Souza has been watching and waiting.
His time may or may not come during the
fight. But if it does, he's sure to be ready.
Despite the big occasions and often
spectacular contests, he says he doesn't
get too excited while he's working.
"My highlight is going from the dressing
room to the ring. Then when I go home
and watch the tape, that's when I get
excited.'