Austin: Gallery Tour and Mandingo Warrior

By Bart Barry–

A U S T I N , T e x a s – S o m ewhere round here, likely on currently gentrified streets once mean, James “Mandingo Warrior” Kirkland roamed and terrorized sparring partners en route to network-darling status, a falling-out or five with trainer Ann Wolfe, a prison stay, a brutal victory over in 2011, and a brutaler victory over Glen Tapia in December. Where he is right now is a source of speculation, as usual, but this is not: Had he been present in last week to announce a fight with Mexican Saul “Canelo” Alvarez at Alamodome, many more San Antonians would have been there as well.

One such San Antonian spent the weekend with Austin locals, instead, in the hopes of finding some evidence of cultural offerings greater than University of Texas’ Blanton Museum of Art and sanitized bars on West 6th Street. He found some, too, good contemporary- and folk-art offerings, and also a reason to reflect on what appears to be one of our sport’s greater missed-ticket-selling opportunities.

This city is not weird so much as haphazard and disorganized, a hippie enclave in a state that, since making a fortuitous discovery dinosaurs once died within its borders, has trended ever more conservative, free-market and likely to conflate luck with merit – convincing its citizenry one’s birth in a resource-rich state is evidence, somehow, of exemplary character or virtue. For every action a reaction: Austin, now enjoying a real-estate boom financed by those scrofulous knaves who brought ruin to sandy states from Florida to California, makes a fetish of embracing its eccentricities, not uncommon to college towns, and planting on its automobiles’ bumpers and townfolk’s t-shirts declarations about keeping itself weird and loving live music.

Ask most who embellish Austin’s merits to catalog this city’s cultural offerings, aside from live music, and they’ll tell you, “Live music!” It’s the sort of exhausting, end-of-boom chatter one encountered in Silicon Valley round 2001, when everyone intended to be a billionaire but no one knew how clicks-from-coffeeshops could be monetized. It’s marginally less cynical here, though, because it is a celebration of culture, such as it is, not capitalism.

To this city’s ever more gentrified climes comes West Austin Studio Tour 2014, a sprawling collection of 241 art galleries and exhibitions, for two weekends, this one and last, and it is, in its seeming disinterest, nearly an opposite of the South by Southwest festival that now makes Austin a destination for the coolest folks from all about our fruited plain. Disinterested because most artists are borrowing corners of their friends’ gallery spaces, have yet to name much less sign their works, and rarely take anything but cash or check. As one local put it: “That’s Austin. We don’t really plan things all the way through. We just sort of get them started and see what happens, you know?”

And there-across spans a bridge from one unplanning gaggle of artists to another: Wednesday afternoon, Oscar De La Hoya, whom business circumstances appear to be pushing from figurehead to manager, visited San Antonio’s historic Mercado district, about 70 miles southwest of here, to announce that the one prizefighter insiders are reasonably certain remains tied to him by promotional contract, Mexican Saul “Canelo” Alvarez, will be fighting Cuban in Las Vegas in a couple months, in an event called “Honor and Glory.” De La Hoya, freshly enthusiastic if not yet sincere, announced, in Spanish, the card was about “honor y gloria” before switching to English and explaining that honor is what men fight for, and glory.

It was vacuous and scripted, the way these things ever are – or perhaps it was the South Texas sun breaking unexpectedly through what Weather Channel’s app promised would be a cloudy day – but it sapped one’s humor and acted as a reminder of a question Alamo City insiders often ask ourselves when asked to cheerlead for Canelo: Why not James Kirkland at Alamodome? Surely Mike Battah of Leija-Battah Promotions, the man who risked a large sum of his own capital to bring Alvarez, on short notice, to San Antonio to fight an otherwise unknown New Mexican named Austin Trout 13 months ago, and then made of his opportunity one of the more groundbreakingly excellent promotions of the last decade, putting more than 40,000 people in Alamodome, expected such a debut effort would reap rewards many times greater than schlock like Fidel Maldonado against John Nater on a Monday night in February.

Battah once openly imagined 70,000-person gates for Canelo at Alamodome, regardless of opponent, and must now content himself with renting restaurant plazas on Wednesday afternoons to have the firehaired horseman of Jalisco, diminished in everyone’s eyes, make a few serious poses, promise redemption for all Mexicans from a Cuban, and tell the people of, let’s see, San Antonio, how very much he appreciates their support.

To resume his ascent after the Mayweather debacle in September, Canelo needed to do more than score a referee stoppage over a ruined countryman like Alfredo Angulo, on pay- per-view in March; and if we’re being honest, even if he’d put “El Perro” to sleep in 90 seconds, Canelo would have suffered mightily from an Argentine doing to Floyd Mayweather two months later what Mexicans verily expected Canelo would do. One shudders to think what comes of Oscar De La Hoya’s company if Lara undresses Canelo the way that, say, Winky Wright undressed Felix Trinidad in 2005.

Since, like their statesmen, American promoters cannot be counted on to do the right thing till they’ve tried everything else, one might as well hope, too, that such an outcome would make the fight that makes much more ticket- selling sense than Canelo’s tilt in July will: A match with Austin’s James Kirkland at Alamodome.

Bart Barry can be reached at bart.barrys.email (at) gmail.com