Before Tyson-Paul, There Was Holmes-Butterbean

By FightPost: MMA & Boxing News on 15th Sep 2024

By Andrew Rihn

Remember Golden Palace?

Or rather, do you remember seeing the web address GoldenPalace.com emblazoned in temporary tattoos across the backs of boxers in the early 2000s?

It was an ad campaign from Golden Palace, an early online casino. The World Wide Web was less than a decade old. Online gambling was viewed with more than a little scepticism. Television networks were hesitant to allow advertising on their broadcasts, and so, denied the ability to promote themselves on air during boxing matches, Golden Palace found a workaround. For a fraction of the price, they paid boxers directly for an advertising space composed of flesh and muscle. The networks were left scratching their heads, helplessly broadcasting these advertisements for free.

The notion of a boxer having a sponsor, and promoting that company (often through patches on their shorts), was nothing new. It was already an accepted practice, and it's now common to see advertising on the canvas of the ring and even along the ropes. Boxers promote on social media and put on hats, t-shirts, and headphones as they raise their hands in victory. (One notably creative example: When Julius Francis fought Mike Tyson in 2000, he sold advertising space on the bottom of his shoes, capitalizing on the likelihood that he would be knocked down and the soles visible to ringside photographers.)

If sponsorship, product placement, and promotion tend to feel like a necessary evil, they are at least a tolerated and understood evil. Fighters need to be able to earn a living, and we all know how persistently difficult the profession remains for all but the tiniest fraction of fighters. Yet, somehow, GoldenPalace.com felt different from the more accepted forms of advertisement. The commodification was too glaring, and the sour feeling it evoked felt unshakeable. This wasn't sponsorship. It was the human body as a billboard, as real estate. The incongruity that fight fans who are comfortable watching a boxer punched, bruised, and exposed to the long-term risk of CTE might simultaneously feel practically repulsed by that same boxer wearing a temporary tattoo is almost too dense an ethical minefield to cross, yet I cannot be alone in feeling this way.

Eventually, Golden Palace shifted its advertising dollars away from boxers. They moved to putting their infamous tattoos upon the bodies of streakers. Their website address was part of disruptions to the 2004 Super Bowl, as well as the Olympics that same year, and again in the 2006 games in Torino, Italy. And then Golden Palace found eBay. Instead of paying for advertising space, the casino began blowing their budgets on weird auctions. The weirder the purchase, the more headlines were written. In 2005, they paid seventy-five grand for a French fry that resembled Abraham Lincoln. They bought up William Shatner's kidney stone, a picket fence from Dealey Plaza (where JFK was assassinated), and even the naming rights to a newly-discovered species of monkey (they named it Plecturocebus aureipalatii, literally meaning "of the Golden Palace"). Journalists couldn't seem to help themselves from covering these purchases. Like the television networks a few years earlier, journalists appeared to be at the mercy of an effective and early model of organic, viral advertising.

Golden Palace's marketing, coming a century after the Marquis of Queensbury "civilized" the sport, locates boxing amongst the ranks of streakers and celebrity-shaped French fries. Though fully legalized and heavily regulated, boxing remains perpetually at the margins of society. Or rather, boxing is forever susceptible to marginalization, forever unfree of the whispers and insinuations that consign it, at least in part, to its role as a sideshow sport.

GoldenPalace.com had appeared on the backs of legitimate boxing stars such as Bernard Hopkins. But memorably, and seemingly more on-brand, the tag appeared on Eric Esch, aka Butterbean, aka the King of the Four Rounders. He wore the temporary tattoo for his fight against the former heavyweight champion Larry Holmes in 2002. Sometimes boxing is a noble sport. A fight like Holmes-Butterbean, though, throws that nobility into question and makes the sport's dubious reputation a deserved one.

A former heavyweight champion now in his fifties whose much younger opponent was more of a media sensation than a real boxer? With Mike Tyson set to face Jake Paul later this year, a look at Holmes-Butterbean may be more in order.

Butterbean, like Golden Palace, had entered the sport through unconventional means. He had made a name for himself in the Toughman competition circuit, not unlike Christy Martin. And Mr. T. After he had exhausted more-or-less the entirety of the Toughman opposition, Esch took to the professional prize ring. He was immediately signed by Bob Arum's Top Rank Promotions.

Each made his professional debut in 1994. Six weeks later, his second pro fight was broadcast on television. Butterbean was an immediate sensation. He fought 14 times the following year alone. Describing his opposition as unexceptional may be a charitable assessment, but that was no matter. Fans were happy to root for the big man. Esch was not the piously muscled Evander Holyfield, nor was he the menacing wrecking ball of Mike Tyson. He was also corpulent in a way that even Two Ton Tony Galento never was. Butterbean was positively rotund, and more importantly, he looked strong and happy, and he moved well. For many, his knockouts were a sort of dispensation for our own failures of diet and exercise, an antidote to all the aerobics and home-fitness infomercials that flooded late-night television in the 1990s. Butterbean poured the beeswax in our ears, rescuing us from the siren-song of self-help gurus, our portly, pugilistic Odysseus strapped to the mast.

Although white, he wasn't exactly billed as a "White Hope." Bob Arum christened him "King of the Four Rounders," which bestowed royalty but with a ceiling. Esch wasn't going to be challenging for the heavyweight title any time soon. In 1999, Esch faced his toughest opponent to date, Peter McNeeley, the one-time Mike Tyson opponent who'd been floored only seconds into the first round. At that time, Esch had been fighting for nearly five years and had amassed a record of 46-1-1. He KOed McNeeley with one second to spare in the first round.

By 2002, Esch was 35 years old with a record of 65–2-3. Gimmicks are a short-term sell, and after eight years in the ring, the novelty of his career had plateaued. Butterbean had to seek out new avenues to sell his schtick.

In 2002, Larry Holmes was past his prime - about two decades past. Holmes was 52 when he stepped into the ring with the 300-plus-pound Everyman. For his age, the former champion had remained surprisingly active. In fact, entering the ring with an ageing Larry Holmes had become something of a rite of passage for admission into the upper echelon of the heavyweight field. He faced Mike Tyson in 1988, Ray Mercer and Evander Holyfield in 1992, and Oliver McCall in 1995. In 2000, he faced a 49-year-old Mike Weaver, defeating him in six rounds. The two had fought previously - an astounding 21 years previously, in 1979 - possibly the longest interim period between rematches.

But at 52, with 74 pro fights behind him, what was Holmes doing? What did he hope to achieve going into the ring one last time? This wasn't merely a lighthearted exhibition. This was a sanctioned bout, scheduled for ten rounds (the first time going past four for Esch) at the Scope Arena in Norfolk, VA. This unusual episode wasn't a spectacle for its own sake - it wasn't even the main event. Holmes-Butterbean was dropped into the middle of a middling card put together by a telemarketing executive, Daryl DeCroix. To his credit, DeCroix secured significant purses for Holmes and Butterbean - $250,000 and $100,000, respectively. The event was headlined by a contest for the WBC's Continental Americas Super Lightweight belt. It also featured Joe Frazier's daughter, Jacqui Frazier-Lyde, taking on German fighter Heidi Hartmann. Fans at home could order it on pay-per-view for $19.95.

It is hardly worth the effort to describe the action round by round because, frankly, there was hardly any action at all, and what little did occur was so historically inconsequential that a blow-by-tentative-blow recap is rendered just short of pointless. Both men appeared understandably hesitant. Holmes's famous jab was still more than serviceable, and it proved effective enough to keep Esch at distance, even opening a small cut on the super-heavy's brow. The former champ was walking his way to a plodding points decision, perhaps his most lopsided win since overmatching Randall "Tex" Cobb in 1982, when a meagre morsel of drama was manufactured near the end of the tenth (and final) round.

Holmes connected a one-two on Butterbean, who responded with a left hook. The hook fell short, but as Holmes moved backwards, he momentarily lost his balance and slipped back, caught by the corner ropes. Referee Chris Woolesen ruled it a knockdown and administered an eight count. The bell rang before either fighter could throw another punch. Esch was credited with the 10-8 round, but a replay on the broadcast confirmed Holmes' slip. Scoring wasn't difficult. The three judges gave Butterbean one, two, and three rounds apiece.

As others have pointed out, there is no shortage of sideshow precedents in the checkered history of boxing. Danny Bonaduce fought Donny Osmond. Muhammad Ali fought Antonio Inoki. Heck, Two Ton Tony Galento once fought an octopus! When the 58-year-old Mike Tyson enters the ring with YouTuber-turned-boxer Jake Paul on November 15, the sideshow continues.

I doubt either man will be sporting a Golden Palace tattoo, but there are clear parallels between the matchups of Holmes-Butterbean and Tyson-Paul, namely the disparities in age and skill.

There is no question that Mike Tyson is a bigger name today than Larry Holmes was in 2002. I suspect the same is true of Jake Paul and Butterbean. Jake Paul attracts a youthful fan base, something boxing desperately needs. Combined with the broader appeal and name-recognition of Mike Tyson and the fact that their fight is set to stream for free on Amazon Prime, this could be a hugely successful crossover event.

Jake Paul has put in the work in the last several years developing his boxing, and I applaud his dedication. He is a solid journeyman fighter at best, and that is nothing to sniff at, especially considering that he started boxing relatively late. I've also read that his dedication to training also helped Paul curb his drinking and stabilize his mental health, and again, that is no small feat and worth all the plaudits. Beyond his own in-ring work, his work through MVP Promotions has helped give new life to the career of Amanda Serrano. I hope we see more good things like this from the company in the years to come, and if Paul decides to transition from fighter to promoter, his early success leaves him poised to join the ranks of Tex Rickard and Don King.

What will Tyson-Paul look like?

First, there will be loads of tough talk in the build-up to the fight. Tyson is a master mouth-fighter, and people love to believe that Mike Tyson is a mythic figure, a one-man demolition crew ready to unleash at a moment's notice. We saw this in 2020 when he and Roy Jones Jr. held an exhibition staged by Triller, dubbed the "Lockdown Knockdown." Tyson appeared lathered up and agitated. He released some mean-looking training clips and had people believing he was going to cut Jones down like an old, dead tree. What we got instead was an entertaining, fairly light-hearted session between two ageing athletes. It was fun, certainly no bloodbath, and both men were smiling and laughing together afterwards.

Given the nonstarter of Holmes-Butterbean and the nonchalant precedent of Tyson-Jones Jr., I do not imagine Tyson-Paul will deliver any serious fireworks. Mike Tyson will be 58 years old when he enters the ring. Think seriously about this - if Jake Paul were to really land something on Mike Tyson, and then, God forbid, anything bad should happen to the already Baddest Man on the Planet, that night or even down the road, some would place responsibility at Jake Paul's feet. You know the saying - you don't play boxing. I doubt Jake Paul wants any damage to the world's most famous fighter attached to his reputation.

I'm not usually one for advocating for a fighter to take a dive, but if I could offer Jake Paul just a word of advice, I'd tell him this: Leave your chin exposed, just a little. What a way to go out! A highlight reel KO at the hands of Mike Tyson is nothing to be ashamed of. It is the stuff of boxing's brutal fairy tale, one of fisticism's tall tales brought to life.

And to gift fans the chance to watch Jake Paul laid low by the Baddest Man on the Planet - that might just be the kind of content that could unify boxing's divisive fan base, and give Paul, ever the promoter, his most liked video of all time.

Photo Credit: AP Photo