is Ike Ibeabuchi released from prison?

The only (?) exception being Bernard Hopkins?

 

By Tim Graham
Special to ESPN.com

LOVELOCK, Nev. -- The heavyweight landscape is no different than the dusty and desolate drive along Interstate 80 through the northern Nevada desert.

Scrub brush is the most common life form. Chunks of blown-out tires collect on the shoulder. Glitz along the roadside is just debris and shattered glass. Mirages prove to be nothing more than hot air.


Ike Ibeabuchi was upbeat about his boxing career in 1999 before he was incarcerated for battery and sexual assault.

Ike Ibeabuchi comprehends the analogies well.

The hulking Nigerian was once a fearsome contender for the heavyweight title. Now, he helplessly surveys that barren panorama every day from the confines of chain link, barbed wire and bulletproof glass.

He dreams of the day he can enliven the heavyweight division again, but not until Nevada prison officials let him leave Lovelock Correctional Center, the remote desert outpost where he has been serving five to 30 years for battery and sexual assault.

"They should give me the opportunity to define myself," Ibeabuchi says one summer morning. His Nigerian accent has subsided, but still reminds one he's many miles from home.

"Boxing is like life to me. It makes me a better person. It makes me proud of my ability, my sense of organization, my sense of being a human being.

"Boxing makes me a warrior. I strategize out everything in line, and then I execute my plan over another man. Nothing else is like that. You go to church and get on your knees to pray, but God determines the final action. In boxing, you get out exactly what you put in. It makes you feel like a God, pure."

Ibeabuchi knows he could be a factor in the division even though he hasn't competed since knocking out current IBF champ Chris Byrd 5½ years ago. After all, Mike Tyson missed nearly four years and returned from a **** conviction to win a pair of world titles.

Some boxing experts claim Ibeabuchi is still the world's most dangerous heavyweight, an unbeaten phenom who handled heavy-fisted sluggers and slick boxers alike but often lost battles with his own emotional volatility. There was the teenage boy he nearly killed, the demons he and his mother were convinced they saw, the additional accusations of previous sex crimes.

He's dead to the boxing world even though he's only 31 years old. Everybody -- those who worked for him, made money off him and cheered for him -- stopped checking up on him. They wrote him off, but they might be surprised to discover Ibeabuchi is only one step away from leaving prison and fighting again.

"I refuse to be forgotten," Ibeabuchi says. "I refuse to be denied. I refuse to be deprived. I'm ready to get back what is mine."

Ibeabuchi's parole hearing was Monday. Earlier this year, his release date was moved up several months to Dec. 12 when he was credited with 200 days of time served while awaiting trial. There already have been preliminary talks of applying for a work furlough to let Ibeabuchi fight in the fall if parole is granted.

The most significant boost to Ibeabuchi's cause, however, could be that Sig Rogich has taken an interest in Ibeabuchi, and is expected to be his manager. A Las Vegas ad agency executive and crisis-control specialist, Rogich worked for and advised the last three Republican presidents and is a heavy party contributor.

He also helped Gov. Kenny Guinn get elected in 1998. The seven members of the Nevada Board of Parole Commissioners, the group that will decide whether Ibeabuchi leaves prison, are gubernatorial appointees.

"I don't think my involvement plays a big role," says Rogich, who helped Mike Tyson regain his Nevada boxing license after the infamous Evander Holyfield ear-biting episode. "The parole board will look at him and maybe say that it's good to see he's got a good potential business relationship waiting for him and not someone who is going to take advantage of him.

"I don't think parole boards look at who he's associated with. The doctors and wardens will determine what type of person he has been."

That will be the hardest part of all.

Inmate No. 71979

The Lovelock Correctional Center's visiting area is packed on a blast-furnace-hot summer Sunday. Wives, children, parents and buddies gather to lift spirits. As Ibeabuchi's visitor that morning, I wait patiently, left to wonder what manner of savage or man will emerge once the long-forgotten fighter gets patted down and walks through the security entrance.

Will he be the gracious gentleman many insist he is? Will the guards keep him shackled like a captive Chewbacca? What kind of shape will this heavyweight hopeful carry on his once-formidable frame?

After nearly an hour, Inmate No. 71979 arrives. He has a warm smile on his face, and while he might be a few pounds overweight, he wears it well. He appears at ease with himself, and as he strolls into the visiting area the other inmates begin to nudge their guests and point at the man who used to be ranked No. 2 in the world.

"Sorry you had to sit here so long," he says after a surprisingly gentle handshake. "I was working out, and I always wear my headphones. I didn't hear them announce I had somebody here."

Ibeabuchi looks much different than the bloated defendant who received his sentence in January 2002. Some claimed he was topping the scales at more than 300 pounds from years of inactivity. Not even close.

He says he weighs 260, merely 13 pounds more than his optimal weight. It's hard to tell for sure how trim he is through blue jeans and a dark blue, long-sleeved work shirt that barely contains his broad shoulders. But he looks healthy. He says he works out at least once a day, occasionally three times. He runs. He shadowboxes. He takes his vitamins.

"I'm like a new car that's been parked," Ibeabuchi says. "I might not be the latest model, but my engine is still fully intact."

He has a scraggly goatee and long, straightened hair that turns curly again at his neckline. The desert sun has noticeably darkened his skin, the tan lines from his wristwatch revealing a far lighter shade.

"I'm grateful I've spent this time here," Ibeabuchi says. "I'm ready to put the world on my shoulders. ... I appreciate the serenity, the calm I acquired in prison. If not for the stain on my name, there's nothing wrong with taking a five-year break, especially when people in boxing didn't appreciate my efforts then."

Ibeabuchi's demeanor is an eerie mix of intensity and charm. He slips into his notoriously unsettling, faraway stare when he speaks of matters that stoke his passions. He flashes a disarming cherub's grin when he's not taking himself so seriously, "Oh, Lord have mercy" his lighthearted refrain.

Mercy, however, is something Ibeabuchi knew little about before prison.

Inside the ring, he was unforgiving. Outside of it, he was despicable.

Ibeabuchi planned on joining the Nigerian military before he witnessed a life-altering event: Buster Douglas knocking out Mike Tyson in 1990. Ibeabuchi took up boxing, twice beating countryman and eventual 1996 bronze medalist Duncan Dokiwari. He emigrated to the Dallas area with his mother in 1993, won the Dallas and Texas Golden Gloves tournaments in 1994 and turned pro.

He annihilated his opponents, compiling a 20-0 record with 15 knockouts.

"He went into the ring like a bull with steam coming out of his nostrils," says former HBO Sports executive Lou DiBella, who now works as a promoter. "It was vintage 1985, 1986, 1987 Mike Tyson."

Ibeabuchi easily dealt rising contender David Tua his first defeat in a blistering 12 rounds that broke the CompuBox heavyweight record with 1,730 punches thrown; Ibeabuchi threw 975 of them, the second-most tallied by a heavyweight. Ibeabuchi was even more impressive against Byrd, the best defensive heavyweight around, dropping him twice before the bout was stopped in the fifth round.

"I had rage when I fought Chris Byrd," Ibeabuchi says. "I was militant. I was hitting him to hurt him."

He had sullied two perfect records in the span of four fights, but those close to him knew he was doing a fine job of ruining his own career.

"He was the best heavyweight prospect I've ever seen," DiBella said. "He had a world of ferocity. He had hand speed. He had a chin.

"He had everything, but he didn't have himself. He was never mentally sound."

 

Ike will be in prison for a long time. I doubt he's done much in prison to earn release, unless he's stayed on his meds and become a model citizen. In either case, he's supposedly weighing somewhere around 300 lbs these days, so I doubt he's getting back into boxing once he's released. For his sake, I hope he doesn't go back to boxing - the only way he can become a productive member of society is if he keeps taking his meds, and taking happy pills isn't exactly conducive to wanting to kill someone in the ring.

 

'The President'

Ibeabuchi has come to admit he's a flawed human being. Five years in lockup have a way of eroding the vanity, the misdirected blame, the false justifications.

"I'm more humiliated than (concerned with) spending time in prison," Ibeabuchi says. "I have a moral standard. I'm not perfect. I'm a human being. I was the person preaching on TV and reciting passages from the Bible. But I was a hypocrite."

Rage was the common denominator in Ibeabuchi's pattern of outlandish, often criminal, behavior. It made him act irrationally, usually putting others' lives in grave danger. He has been accused of attempted ****, attempted suicide and attempted murder.

"He was seriously damaged emotional goods even before he exploded," HBO boxing analyst Larry Merchant says. "My belief, when he got locked up, was that boxing dodged another bullet."

Distraught over a perceived snub in the WBC rankings two months after he beat Tua, Ibeabuchi slammed his car into a concrete pillar on Interstate 35 north of Austin, Texas. With him was an ex-girlfriend's 15-year-old son.

The boy suffered "numerous injuries" from the accident "and will never walk normally again," according to the criminal complaint. Ibeabuchi was charged with kidnapping and attempted murder, but the courts concluded he was trying to commit suicide, and he was sentenced to 120 days after pleading guilty to false imprisonment. He paid a $500,000 civil settlement.

"It was a very frustrating case because what he did wasn't as clearly criminal as what I expected him to get involved with down the line," said District Attorney John Bradley, who prosecuted Ibeabuchi.

"I fully expected that his contact with the criminal justice system had not ended with our county. We weren't able to get him examined, but it sure seemed to me -- even if he was a heavyweight boxer looking at making millions of dollars -- that he should have been committed to a psychiatric community and treated."

That incident, Merchant says, "began to peel away the skin of the onion."

Ibeabuchi developed a new persona based on his nickname, "The President." At times when he was being churlish or refusing to complete a simple requirement such as attending a weigh-in, his handlers would appeal to The President's regal nature by convincing him it was the noble thing to do.

"There were times when he thought he was really a president," DiBella says. "He would get into these mental states where he insisted on people calling him The President. It was his alter ago, where 'I am The President,' not of the United States, but maybe the world."

 

Stories began to circulate that both Ibeabuchi and his mother both were seeing demons. Promoter Cedric Kushner says Ibeabuchi on two occasions had to be literally dragged onto airplanes before fights because of perceived demonic forces.

Then there was the time Ibeabuchi wielded a knife during a dinner meeting in New York to discuss a possible three-fight HBO deal.

"We were having a fine meal at a nice restaurant," Kushner says, "and mid-course Ike picked up a big carving knife, slammed it into the table and screamed 'They knew it! They knew it! The belts belong to me! Why don't they just give them back.'

"That was a peculiar experience," Kushner says. "That wasn't the type of conduct I expected to romance the guy from HBO. (Ibeabuchi) was like a Viking."

Three months after his decisive triumph over Byrd, Ibeabuchi had more trouble at an airport, and this time it wasn't the demons that refused to let him on board.

His flight out of Dallas-Fort Worth was overbooked, and he didn't take kindly to the news. As he stormed wildly through the terminal, police threatened him with pepper spray.

"You better shoot me," he replied. They sprayed him in the eyes and handcuffed him.

That wouldn't be the last time Ibeabuchi was pepper-sprayed. The next occasion would mark the stinging end of his freedom.

 

'My Little Secret'

Ibeabuchi never cared for the dating game.

"I feel women should bow to me," he says. "I have a great ego in going after women. I'm not a person to **** a woman because I'm of the belief she should want to be with me. If she doesn't want to be with me, I don't want to have sex with her."

He admits he has a weakness for prostitutes. They're easier to deal with than girlfriends. They're always willing, and they're disposable.

"I have had sex with escorts many times," he says. "It's no strings attached. I paid with checks and credit cards.

"It was a guilty pleasure. When we have secrets, God has a way of telling you 'I saw what you did.' I thought I could get away with it, but God had to make my little secret public."

In July 1999, he was staying at The Mirage Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas when he phoned Room Service -- not the folks who bring food to the door, but a local escort service that comes a-knockin' with something entirely different.

Ibeabuchi insists the argument was over the form of payment, that the dispatcher told him a personal check was OK. The 21-year-old woman said she was there to strip and nothing else. She claimed he attacked her in the walk-in closet after she demanded to be paid up front.

"He invites her up to his room and begins to get physical with her," says Christopher Lalli, a Clark County chief deputy district attorney. It got loud enough that people in the adjoining room notified hotel security.

"When they enter the room," Lalli says, "a woman, naked from the waist down, is running toward them. These are three strangers, and she ran right into their arms."

Ibeabuchi barricaded himself in the bathroom, and police discharged pepper spray under the door to coax his surrender.

"How can I have the audacity to **** someone I'm paying to have sex with?" Ibeabuchi asks. "In Nigeria, I wouldn't be in prison for what I did. The system here (in the U.S.) makes sure someone gets punished whenever a woman cries. This was a call girl, an escort."

Ibeabuchi's defense faced the further difficulty of the Clark County DA's reopening of a similar sexual assault allegation from eight months earlier that took place next door to The Mirage, at sister-property Treasure Island.

Still, he was released on bail and placed on house arrest -- able to train and fight again until his trial -- but he was remanded after two more sexual-assault allegations surfaced in Arizona.

"The troubling thing for us was this was not an isolated incident," Lalli says.

Lalli says the case against Ibeabuchi's crimes at The Mirage was solid. There was physical evidence, eyewitness testimony, a pattern of unacceptable behavior.

"It was evidence you don't have nine times out of 10 in these cases when you go to trial," Lalli says.

But Ibeabuchi was deemed incompetent to stand trial and was sent to a state facility for the mentally ill. Medical experts concluded he exhibited bipolar disorder, and a judge granted permission to force-medicate him. Eight months later, 2½ years after his arrest, he was ruled cogent enough to plea.

He entered an Alford plea, conceding the prosecution had enough evidence to convict him while not admitting guilt. Had he gone to trial and been found guilty of ****, he could have received 10 years to life in prison, but instead he got two to 10 years for battery with intent to commit a crime and three to 20 years for attempted sexual assault, to be served consecutively.

"We felt confident he was going to spend a good chunk of time in prison and then get kicked out of the country," Lalli says.

Ibeabuchi claims he now has a better understanding of what's right and what's wrong. He has had five years to contemplate his sins.

"I was getting away with it," Ibeabuchi says of his old sexual habits. "I thought call girls or escorts were prostitutes. I thought they were choosing to have sex with you for money. I have found I was in error, and now I'm making amends."

'A Scary, Scary Individual'

Many elements are in place for Ibeabuchi to be paroled. The board ruled favorably two years ago when he was up for consideration on his lesser charge.

By all accounts, he has been a model prisoner. He seems to have a positive relationship with the guards. He claims the only mark against him on his prison record is for making an unauthorized phone call.

He has received college credits in psychology, philosophy, business math, personal finance, English and computer technology. He says he hasn't needed to take any medication since he was sentenced in January 2002.

On June 22, Ibeabuchi faced a psychological review panel -- required for sexual offenders eligible for parole -- and was "not found to be a high risk to re-offend."

Ibeabuchi's public parole hearing was before three commissioners via video conference from Carson City. The victim had the right to testify. The decision will be made in a closed meeting and announced later.

Even if he's granted parole, Ibeabuchi will face another hurdle: As an immigrant convicted of a felony, he will face immediate deportation. Rogich is hopeful Ibeabuchi will be permitted to remain in the U.S., but concedes that luxury could be difficult given the Department of Homeland Security's restrictive guidelines.

Lalli expressed alarm at the prospect of Ibeabuchi's discharge from Lovelock.

"It scares me to death," Lalli says. "He is a scary, scary individual. The thought of him walking around on the street unsupervised is disconcerting."

Who's The Baddest?

The visitor asks Ibeabuchi if, after all these years of self-examination, he still possesses the rage that made him so ruthless in the ring.

"I have my rage still," Ibeabuchi replies, his chin still fixed toward the distance, but his eyes slowly shifting to the man across the table. "None of my fights will go as long as the number of years I spend in prison."

"I wouldn't want to be the first guy Ike fights when he gets out jail -- for a lot of reasons," said Ibeabuchi's former manager, Houston-based attorney Steve Munisteri. "A lot of pent-up frustration is going to come out in those gloves."

Ibeabuchi's goals seem quite lofty. They consist of unifying the world titles, beating the Klitschko brothers on consecutive nights, luring Lennox Lewis out of retirement and facing Tyson in the ultimate malfeasance matchup.

"My rap sheet is similar to Mike Tyson's rap sheet," Ibeabuchi says. "It would be the biggest fight of all time. People want to see who really is the baddest guy."

More immediately, if the parole board smiles upon him, Ibeabuchi's goal is to fight a top-15 contender.

How much can a 31-year-old, slightly overweight fighter, rebounding from a 5½-year layoff, truly accomplish?

"You never lose your power, and he never was beat up," Munisteri says. "If the heavyweight division remains in the state it is today and he gets himself in shape, who knows what might happen? Can a guy at 31, who's taken no abuse, do it? Yeah, it's possible."

And is he really 31? Dominican baseball players aren't the only athletes who lie about their age.

Merchant doesn't consider Ibeabuchi's age nearly as much as his psyche.

"He could go out there in two or three fights and think he's king of the world again," Merchant says. "But he's got to show that he can deal with success, that he can deal with what comes with winning fights. Can he handle the jungle that is boxing? Can he handle the money?"

Ibeabuchi guesses he lost around $80 million in purses while he was incarcerated. Munisteri ventures a career-earning estimate at closer to $500 million.

He'll never get that back, but as a curiosity in a sport desperate for box-office draws, he shouldn't have any difficulty making a nice living under boxing's big top.

"Long-term, I think he can be heavyweight champion of the world. He's very talented, very articulate and very intelligent," says Rogich, who likely will organize Ibeabuchi's affairs. "Short-term, he needs to make sure he has a long-term plan. He needs to make sure his life is on an even keel. I think we can get him there."

An Unbroken Spirit

Ibeabuchi slumps back into his chair and, again, stares silently into the distance. It's now late afternoon, and there's nothing left to talk about. The boxing, the crimes, the parole, the cell, the future, the past. It has all been covered.

Then, in a flash, he slaps his meaty hands on the table as an expression of excitement comes across his dark face. His eyes are still fixed dead ahead, and he speaks as though he were talking more to himself than to anyone else.

"People gotta get one thing straight: Because I'm locked up (they think) I'm dead and forgotten," Ibeabuchi says, his head starting to nod slightly. "But my spirit, my confidence and my faith are up. No matter how long they keep me here, that can't break my spirit.

"This is a mental fall that requires a mental rise. This is a test. This is nothing compared to what other great men have gone through. I'll pass this test."

 

Unfavorable vote for The President - Boxing's Ike Ibeabuchi
By Tim Graham

So this is what passes for excitement in the heavyweight division these days: four bouts, featuring three retreads, two quickly fading bores and three neverwuzzes.
That said, I'm looking forward to Don King's show Nov. 13 in Madison Square Garden. Sad, but true. There's not much else out there for the big boys.

Andrew Golota will try not to implode in a title fight for the first time in his career, taking his latest shot against the ubiquitous WBA champion, John Ruiz. Quadragenarian Evander Holyfield will hope to extend his career against Larry Donald, one of those fighters you're not sure if you've ever seen fight. IBF champ Chris Byrd, who hasn't looked convincing in years, will face Jameel McCline. Hard luck Hasim Rahman will attempt to end Kali Meehan's 15 minutes of relative fame.

Then, in a battle of one-hit wonders, WBC champ Vitali Klitschko (known for almost beating somebody good) is scheduled to fight Danny Williams (famous for beating somebody who used to be good) Dec. 11 in Las Vegas.

The man who should be known as the best heavyweight in the world, meanwhile, woke up this morning in a jail cell, just as he has for roughly 1,500 straight days. He will do so again tomorrow morning and every morning thereafter for the near future.

His nickname was The President, but save your ballots; he won't be a candidate to fight any time soon.

Ike Ibeabuchi is a symbol of wasted dreams, squandered money and time forever lost. He is serving five to 30 years inside the Lovelock Correctional Center in the Northern Nevada desert for battery and sexual assault.

Many had mixed emotions when Ibeabuchi's parole eligibility was pushed up to Dec. 12. Oh, how we would love to see him back in the ring, plying his wondrously destructive skills in the ring. The Nigerian mammoth is 20-0 with 15 knockouts. In his last fight he obliterated Byrd 5 1/2 years ago, something no other boxer has done. Ibeabuchi also was the first to defeat David Tua.

Ibeabuchi, only 31 years old, would've buoyed what is fast becoming the worst heavyweight era, but the tradeoff for our pugilistic enjoyment was returning an unstable element back to society.

No matter what decision was made, I was going to be happy with it - and equally disappointed, depending on whether I thought as a boxing fan or a civilian.

I wrote a lengthy story on Ibeabuchi's situation right before his hearing this summer. I had the pleasure of sitting down with him for a few hours in the prison's visiting area one sun-baked Sunday morning. I had been looking forward to the interview for months because it took me that long to arrange it. Ibeabuchi reached out to me last year about writing a tell-all story about him; he had liked an ESPN.com column I wrote about him around the time of his arrest. Nevada prison administrators denied my request for a face-to-face meeting, so I went through the visitor approval process -- Ibeabuchi had to invite me by sending out application forms -- and I saw him as if I were a family member or friend.

Prison regulations prohibited me from bringing in a notepad or pen, much less a tape recorder. I was nervous about conducting an interview without any materials, but once I passed through the metal detectors and automatic gates a guard provided a pencil and some paper scraps. After all, there were boards games to be played, and I might need to keep score.

At the time of our meeting, I would have predicted Ibeabuchi's release next month. He had so many factors working for him. He already had been given clearance by a psychological evaluation board. He received Nevada Community College credits in psychology, philosophy, business math, personal finance, English and computer technology. It was clear by what I saw he was well liked by the guards.

The biggest friend to his cause was adviser Sig Rogich, a Las Vegas ad agency executive and crisis-control specialist with a direct line to Nevada Gov. Kenny Guinn and George W. Bush.

Rogich worked on Ronald Reagan's presidential re-election, was a member of George H. W. Bush's cabinet, served as U.S. ambassador to his native Iceland and is an adviser to the current president. Rogich has earned the current President Bush's prestigious Ranger title by raising more than $200,000 for the campaign.

Rogich also helped Guinn get elected. The governor appoints every parole board commissioner, and they were the ones to decide this summer whether Ibeabuchi could leave prison this year.

But those close to Ibeabuchi were justifiably nervous about our interview. They knew he was capable of insensitive and undiplomatic commentary that could sabotage his parole chances. His English is remarkable, but many of his notions don't translate very well from a cultural standpoint.

Inmate No. 71979 hadn't spoken to a reporter in years. He was engaging and forthright, alternately intense and charming. He didn't avoid a single question, not about that young boy he nearly killed in an apparent murder-suicide auto accident years earlier in Texas, not about the additional **** accusations that arose after his arrest, not about the literal demons he repeatedly told others he saw. He offered philosophical musings on his life.

It was clear, however, his time behind bars had given him plenty of time to justify every troubling situation that had befallen him. The contrition was dwarfed by the excuses. He offered no apologies, saying he was misled and misunderstood.

As one would expect, he made several bizarre statements in trying to defend his deeds:

• "I feel women should bow to me. I have a great ego in going after women. I'm not a person to **** a woman because I'm of the belief she should want to be with me. If she doesn't want to be with me, I don't want to have sex with her."

• "I have had sex with escorts many times. It's no strings attached. I paid with checks and credit cards. ... It was a guilty pleasure. When we have secrets, God has a way of telling you 'I saw what you did.' I thought I could get away with it, but God had to make my little secret public."

• "How can I have the audacity to **** someone I'm paying to have sex with? In Nigeria I wouldn't be in prison for what I did. The system here (in the U.S.) makes sure someone gets punished whenever a woman cries. This was a call girl, an escort."

My story didn't even mention how he told me of his hope to marry an American woman quickly upon his release so as to avoid deportation.

The parole board denied Ibeabuchi's release even though the victim didn't testify. The verdict apparently wasn't even close because he won't be eligible for parole again until December 2007. Three years was the maximum amount of time the parole board could make him wait.

Needless to say, Ibeabuchi blamed my story, which appeared on ESPN.com, for his denial. The timing clearly was not in his best interests, but he wanted me to interview him, and one of his attorneys facilitated the meeting. Ibeabuchi also was the one who informed me of Rogich's involvement, something he probably should have kept to himself in a presidential election year. The last thing Bush would need is a Willie Horton scandal, even if by extension.

I eventually received a letter:

Tim Graham, you *******!

You misrepresented my opinion on women in your article, when you promised me that you would be TRUTHFUL.

You caused me my parole, you son of a gun!

I don't ever want to see you again!

Now, you're attacking SIG'S abilities! Of course, We all know who Sig is. Why sing it to the public?

Again, I don't ever want to see you again. Consider yourself warned!!!

And as I folded the letter and placed it back in its envelope, that disappointment I felt about not being to see Ibeabuchi back in the ring for a few more years quickly abated.

He'll stay in prison a few more years. We're probably better off that way.

 

Ike Ibeabuchi Interview: "The President” Wants To Get Back On The Campaign Trail!!

16.11.06 - By Izyaslav “Slava” Koza: When I first started getting into boxing discussion and following the sport a few years back, I won a VHS tape full of any recorded fights of my choosing the owner could fit on there. At that time, sharing clips was not really all that common, so I was lucky enough to obtain some fights I never watched live.

Without thinking, two of the bouts I selected involved a fighter by the name of Ike Ibeabuchi, who was still quite a hot topic, considering he was no longer active. For those who follow the sport, it’s pretty obvious that the bouts also involved David Tua and Chris Byrd and some very interesting circumstances. Before Wladimir Klitschko recently pulverized Byrd, the only time Chris had ever been stopped was against Ibeabuchi, but what was more intriguing was the manner in which it happened.

In the words of many excited fans, not only did Ibeabuchi stop Byrd, but he was able to land about as hard and decapitating a barrage as any of the billion elites that Byrd had faced in his entire career. Those that have seen the stoppage, will most likely bring it up any time vicious knockouts are discussed.

As far as the Tua fight goes, the reason I selected the bout is that what both men accomplished in terms of punches thrown over 12 rounds, was enough to break any 15 round punch thrown record in the history of boxing. To date that is one of the greatest displays of heavyweight boxing that I have ever had the pleasure of watching.

Now I am not here to discuss Ibeabuchi’s guilt or innocence because I don’t know enough about the case to be committed to a serious opinion. However, the life a boxer has outside the ring is not relevant to the things he accomplishes in it. Ike deserves our respect for the things he has already done for our entertainment, and as you shall see for not wasting, or giving up on life in prison. For that alone, we wish Ike luck and at the very least another chance at freedom because that is what America is all about, anyway.

ESB: First of all, Ike, thank you a great deal for doing this because it means a lot.

Ike Ibeabuchi: You’re welcome. Like I stated before, there is nothing that I will not do for my fans.

ESB: I can’t begin to tell you how hopeful some fans got in June 2005 when there was a chance that you could be paroled. When is your next parole hearing and can fans do anything to help you?

Ike Ibeabuchi: With all due respect, to the date of my last parole hearing, it was August 2004 not June 2005. My next parole hearing is scheduled for August 2007.

I don’t quite know what fans can do to help me. I suppose letters of concern to various state of Nevada officials, on my behalf, wouldn’t hurt (Governor, Secretary of State, Parole Commissioner, etc.). I would welcome any support I can get, even from President Bush. I hear he is a big boxing fan.

ESB: Can you describe your daily routine for us? I know one of the problems must be the inability to do real road-work or any traditional boxing exercises, but can you still do something to stay in shape?

Ike Ibeabuchi: My daily routine begins with prayer and fasting from 6:00 am to 12:00pm, during which time I do a rigorous workout. I will not reveal the specifics of my workout. I do not want the competition getting an early read, if you know what I mean. I do run, but not the traditional roadwork. I'm limited here.

I believe what the fans really want to know, is whether I am in shape. The answer is yes.

I'm in shape to fight right now. My boxing program includes shadow boxing and the study of "Psycho-pugilism". God willing, I shall introduce the world o£ boxing to my new supreme delicacy Psycho-pugilism (The Food of The Warrior Boxing God) upon my eventual return to the ring.

I also study, go to school (college classes), and watch a little soap opera. I watch Law & Order and Jeopardy, almost everyday. By 10:00 pm, I'm in my room for the late evening news. I read mail and e-mails from my fans, and answer them accordingly. My evening is closed with a prayer while lying down in my bed.

ESB: The story of Mike Tyson’s stint in jail was to some degree glamorized and it was suggested the other inmates were afraid of him. Can you tell us how the other inmates respond to you and how you interact with them?

Ike Ibeabuchi: Unlike Mike Tyson, I am housed in the general population with other inmates. Therefore, I have the opportunity to mingle with inmates of different races and cultural backgrounds.

ESB: How does it feel when 1500 inmates call you “The Champ?”

Ike Ibeabuchi: Flattering. But God knows they are right. The justification being my accomplishments since my incarceration. My composure, tenacity, endurance, and overall conduct, worth emulating here in the prison. In short, I set positive examples. I identify all fellow inmates as “bro.” Many of them are even willing to do my time for me, for no cost. They are my turpitude, and I respect them dearly.

ESB: Without a doubt, the most memorable moment of your career to most fans is the devastating punch that basically did in Chris Byrd. Whenever fans ask about you on boxing forums, this is the first video clip they are shown. I am sure you were asked this before but can you please describe that whole moment one more time for us?

Ike Ibeabuchi: It was memorable but not the most. It was memorable because it was episodic. I was fighting circumstances of a façade outside of boxing, when the Chris Byrd fight was made. The most memorable moments were each of my ring entrances, where I displayed my ingenuity, which got better and better each time.

To describe the Chris Byrd fight, is to teach or describe how to catch or kill a fly with your bare hands. Do not try to catch the fly directly, even as it is perched or rests. Always aim at the vacuum of its escape. Most of the time, the vacuum becomes the fly at last when you open your hand.

ESB: Do you have any idea what reasoning Byrd tried to use in arguing with the referee when he got up? Many fans always asked what Byrd was trying to say there.

Ike Ibeabuchi: He didn't believe I was able to do that to him, to out smart him. Of course, he's a "spartan." He is not going to quit until he can't breathe anymore. After all, he did become a world champion.

ESB: The most memorable fight of your career was unquestionably the record breaking bomb fest against David Tua. Even though Tua has been beaten, nobody has ever done what you have against him. In preparation for that fight, did you train for precisely that kind of fight?

Ike Ibeabuchi: You see, it took only two fights to define me for most fans, David Tua and Chris Byrd. Two contrasting styles. Indeed, a symbolic crucifix gesture; that is by the way. Tua was tough, but to beat him, I had to do things only a superman would do. With the help of Curtis Cokes, my trainer, I had to be a genie. A sledgehammer wouldn't have stopped me that night. I was thinking 15 rounds of boxing. 12 rounds was just incomplete. Remember now, in round 12, I started my round one routine again, indicating that I was beginning to do a second lap.

ESB: Do you still follow boxing? If so, can you give a few thoughts on the following fighters (strengths, weaknesses, and How you would fight them)?

Ike Ibeabuchi: I follow boxing.

ESB: Henry Akinwande?

Ike Ibeabuchi: Is he still boxing? I would hold him all night long.

ESB: Shannon Briggs?

Ike Ibeabuchi: I will make sure we are not fighting in New Jersey and then I will be alright.

ESB: Calvin Brock?

Ike Ibeabuchi: When it comes to costing, I am the project, and he is the job order. Point made.

ESB: Wladimir Klitschko?

Ike Ibeabuchi: It takes a longer time to obtain a Ph.D in the English language courses.

ESB: Sergei Lyakhovich?

Ike Ibeabuchi: It takes God and Heartbreaks to be a great finisher.

ESB: Oleg Maskaev?

Ike Ibeabuchi: I’m impressed but you know when the cats are away, the mice will play.

ESB: Samuel Peter?

Ike Ibeabuchi: All my brother needs to do is take his time.

ESB: Hasim Rahman?

Ike Ibeabuchi: It’s time to become a full-fledged politician. He practically knows everything.

 

ESB: Nikolai Valuev?

Ike Ibeabuchi: I can’t wait to fight a man at least.

ESB: Which of them is the best fighter right now in the division?

Ike Ibeabuchi: Samuel Peter is the best fighter, but he's got to take his time to inflict pain to prove it.

ESB: Which boxers are you friends with?

Ike Ibeabuchi: Do you mean before a fight, or after a fight? No War, NO FRIENDS!

ESB: Who is the best p4p in the world right now?

Ike Ibeabuchi: My "boy," Floyd Maywhether. When I see Floyd, and all his charisma, I say to him, "Thank You.”

ESB: Ike, I know life in Prison is a very difficult thing, so can you tell us what helps you keep your head together, and helps you get through the days?

Ike Ibeabuchi: My life, even in prison, depicts a life that has been lived in the bible many times. I like to see myself as the (Baptist or the Messiah with God 1st), like Daniel in the Lion’s Den, like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the fiery furnace, but never burned, like Jacob who had run from his hairy brother in Dallas. Like Samson who saw wisdom and humility when his eyes were gone, like Moses who ruled scorpions and snakes in the desert, and I could go on and on.

ESB: What do you miss the most about being on the outside?

Ike Ibeabuchi: I miss everything a man in need would.

ESB: How did you get your nickname "The President”?

Ike Ibeabuchi: Alright “now,” with all due respect to the President of anything, and grandiosity apart, I am so way above that name “President,” so condescending. Shelly Mann, of Dallas, can agree with me, too. I’d rather be known by my real name in full "Ikemefula." It is “nine” letters, indeed. A prayer to God for my strength to keep.

ESB: What do you want to say in closing to all your fans and the people reading this interview?

Ike Ibeabuchi: I would like the fans to know that I am an innocent man, and that I am being made a scapegoat for my perspicacity. Many know this. Nevertheless, I am dealing with this unfortunate circumstance to the very best of my ability. I have not stopped fighting and I never will. I was proclaimed the most dangerous man in the ring in 1999.

Now with my academic achievements and life experiences, I feel I have the ability to take huge strides outside the ring as well. Still, I equally share your pains of deprived quality boxing entertainment. With your continued support for justice, perhaps we can reverse the situation and get a rightful and true heavyweight champion back in the ring.

I love you all, and thank you for your untiring continued support in and out of the ring.

ESB: Ike, thank you again for doing this. Do you want your fans to write you and should we make public your email address?

Ike Ibeabuchi: Yes, my fans may write or email me at the following address, or web-site. I look forward to hearing from them.


Email:

This content is protected

,

This content is protected

Mailing Address:

Ikemefula C. Ibeabuchi 71979

NSP/ PO BOX 607

Carson City, Nevada 89702-0607

United States of America

I want to thank Ike’s mother Patricia for helping out in getting this interview.

 

I think that's a little different.

B-Hop boxed as a kid in the ammys, but went in and out of jail as a teen and I don't think he was boxing much during those years. It was in prison went he fell back in love with the sport.

It wasn't a situation like Tyson or Ike where he was a world class boxer on the highest level of the sport, then went to prison and didn't fight for awhile.

 

Those are old articles.
I haven't been able to find anything regarding this August 2007 hearing.

 

Great article. The author Tim Graham however has probably not seen the fight with Tua, it was a close one that i gave to Tua by a point. Certainly not "easily deal with Tua". You could even say Tua ruined him mentally, although there probably were some wires disconnected in his head for a long time.

 

I personally scored it for Tua over Ike.