Die Eindrücke des Kampfes im Madison Square Garden am letzten Samstag von unserem New Yorker Auslandskorrespondenten folgen nach dem Klick. Was kommt als nächstes? Die Spreeblick Illustrated Swimsuit Edition?
Klitschko vs. Ibragimov
On Saturday night Madison Square Garden witnessed a truly modernist masterpiece. With relentlessly strict execution, Dr. Wladimir Klitschko successfully executed a twelve round heavyweight title fight almost completely left-handed. The only shortcoming of this audacious spectacle was that Dr. Klitschko was unable to win by TKO under these self-imposed constraints. His right hand, deployed perhaps three times in the first eight rounds, was powerful in its absence, used as a threat to induce Ibragimov’s cooperation in this mad vision. A confused Ibragimov attempted to introduce his own strokes to this pugilistic equivalent of the monochromatic square, but Dr. Klitschko, with Suprematist finality, used his left hand to slap down even the most tentative swings from his opponent and held him to the role of The Target. Late in the match, a frustrated Ibragimov attempted to wrestle with Dr. Klitschko, but succeeded only in demonstrating the invincibility of monist poise to such apelike assaults.
History may yet reveal a deeper theme to this match. Could his stratagem have gone beyond the presentation of an unadorned, monolithic assault? Was he, in fact, drawing our attention to the accepted structure of the boxing match itself by reducing it to its simplest element: the left jab? Perhaps the missing punches are an expression of loss, of powerlessness. Was this an homage to the underdog victory of the Orange Revolution, conducted under a paralyzing shroud of dioxin? Were the missing uppercuts and roundhouses the ones that were successfully silenced by Russian intimidation and violence, the powerful blows that we will simply never know?
The audience in attendance at MSG did not seem moved by this oeuvre, and demanded a return to more conventional expression, but Dr. Klitschko, proving himself a true artist, refused to surrender to their heathen demands for sweat and blood and held to his vision of a twelve round fight without punches. This writer is awed.