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Some say Utah Rep. Greg Hughes' bill to reform boxing is self-serving
This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2007, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.

His knuckles bound in yellow tape, his face concealed by a black hoodie, Chris Fernandez bounces around the ring, taking his frustrations out on the shadows.

His training is constant, and his focus is singular - he wants a title fight and to earn enough money boxing to take care of his three boys.

But his pursuit of this dream has dropped him into an ongoing political slugfest on Utah's Capitol Hill.

In one corner is Fernandez's manager, Greg Hughes, a well-positioned Republican lawmaker from Draper who is sponsoring a bill he hopes will lead to more fights and bigger crowds.

In the other corner are members of the state's Pete Suazo Athletic Commission and ultimate fighting enthusiasts, who look at the legislation as a threat and at Hughes as an opportunist with a big conflict of interest.

Despite the venomous political fight, those in both camps agree that Fernandez may be the best fighter Utah has seen in some time.

Utah's only boxing manager

Hughes hit the speed bag often and even stepped into the ring for a few amateur bouts while he was growing up in Pittsburgh.

"My nose bled every time," he recalls.

And while he didn't try fighting professionally, Hughes developed a love of the sport.

One year ago, Hughes and a lobbyist friend started to train again at the Fight Coliseum in Salt Lake City. Owner Eddie "Flash" Newman, a former kickboxing champ, acted as their personal trainer.

But Hughes also took an ulterior motive to the gym. A successful real estate developer by trade, Hughes decided to sponsor a fighter.

Newman introduced him to Fernandez, a 28-year-old welterweight who goes by the nickname "Kid Kayo."

He is a Salt Lake City native and a prolific amateur fighter who rededicated himself to boxing after his marriage failed. Fernandez sold gym memberships to support his children and found a few hours to hit the bag.

But that was before Hughes signed him to a contract.

"It was a blessing from God," Fernandez said.

Hughes and his business partner, Gary Nordhoff, started Green Gloves Management, and are Utah's only licensed boxing managers.

They gave Fernandez a rent-free apartment and each week write him a check for living expenses.

"I don't have to worry about the bills getting paid," Fernandez said. "I just put all of my time into one thing."

And that is winning fights. Since signing with Hughes, Fernandez has won four battles, the most recent in Ogden on Jan. 27.

Fernandez receives three-fourths of the prize money, the rest goes to Hughes and Nordhoff, who say they spend much more than they have earned.

But Hughes' "expensive hobby" has given him an inside look at how Utah governs boxing and ultimate fighting, known legally as mixed martial arts - and he doesn't like what he has seen. Hughes wants to scrap the current commission and start over.

Leveling the scales

The Pete Suazo Athletic Commission consists of five members and one director who sanction and monitor all fights. In the past year, the commission signed off on 63 events, only seven of which involved boxing.

Hughes believes the disparity is exaggerated by the commission's favorable treatment toward ultimate fighting. With his seat in the Legislature, Hughes has promised to level the scales. The commissioners reject the favoritism charge and at least one - Rene DeLuca - claims that Hughes' efforts are intended to benefit himself and the boxer he manages.

Hughes proposes to disband the current commission, now housed in the Department of Commerce, and move it to a newly created Sports Authority. A bill sponsored by Senate Minority Leader Mike Dmitrich would make that switch.

Instead of five members picked by the executive branch, Hughes would drop it to three, with two selected by lawmakers.

Hughes expects some of the commissioners to continue serving after the transition. But the only one who has not indicated that he or she would resign is Alan Dayton, a lobbyist for Intermountain Health Care and a friend of Hughes, who received his post after Hughes flexed his political muscle last year. Dayton posts video of Fernandez's fights on the Web site, YouTube, under the name Cowboy 6888 as a favor to Hughes, which he said is not a conflict, but other commissioners are not so sure.

James Valdez has only been on the commission since July and doubts he will stay on much longer.

"If the new rules come in, I might as well resign," he said.

A commission member must attend all sanctioned events. Valdez and others, including Commission Chairman Ken Hansen, worry that with fewer commissioners they would either have to volunteer more time or limit the number of events. And that may stymie the growing popularity of ultimate fighting.

"We are not happy about it," said Mike Stidham, owner of West Valley City-based Ultimate Combat Experience.

Stidham, Utah's most successful promoter, also is against changing the commission - again. No member has been around longer than 15 months.

Hughes denies that his bill is an attack on ultimate fighting, even though he claims the commission allows Stidham to bend the rules. He wants to shrink the commission temporarily so the members can develop procedures that treat ultimate fighting and boxing as equals.

'Punches for politics'

But DeLuca believes Hughes' true motivation is to retaliate against the commission for suspending the promoting license of Flash Newman, who trains Fernandez.

"Once we took action, all of a sudden Rep. Hughes comes out of the blue with this legislation wanting to disband the entire commission," she said.

The suspension came shortly after a show Newman organized in October, which Hughes used as a fundraiser for the House Republican's Conservative Caucus. He raised $21,000 before expenses during the "Punches for Politics" event.

Hughes paid the fighters who supposedly got stiffed by Newman.

Around the same time, the commission turned over falsified HIV tests to the Salt Lake City Prosecutors office. On Feb. 6, Newman settled the misdemeanor case. He will pay a $1,000 fine. If he does not violate his one-year probation, the charge will be wiped from his record.

Prominent attorney Greg Skordas, who recently ran for attorney general, defended Newman at the request of Hughes.

Skordas chalked up Newman's crime to bad business sense and said, "I don't think he has a malicious bone in his body."

Hughes said he has no business relationship with Newman, who trains Fernandez for free. But Hughes does consider Newman to be "a good friend."

Some commission members believe that friendship resulted in a section of Hughes' bill that could benefit Newman.

Hughes wants to drop the requirement that fighters and promoters must have "good character," a phrase he considers overly subjective. Hansen, the commission chairman, sees Hughes' point.

But DeLuca believes Hughes wants to lower the standard so a reconstituted commission would reinstate Newman's license.

Hughes bristles at any conflict-of-interest claim. For one, he isn't making money on boxing and two, his bill is no different from scores of others, he said.

Lawmakers who are teachers have input on education bills; legislators who are insurance agents push proposals that impact their industry. It's not a conflict of interest, according to Hughes, if the proposal benefits the entire industry - in this case the fighting community.

He says his bill accomplishes that goal.

Hughes has met with concerned commissioners and Stidham. He has agreed to make a host of technical changes that should make regulating fighting easier and help entice out-of-state promoters to host shows in Utah.

His bill also makes sparring legal, something that is confusing in current code, and it creates "white collar contests," which are unregulated fights where no one wins and any rewards must be worth less than $35.

The contests must take place in a gym and the participants must use protective gear. Hughes says it allows people to recreationally box, similar to karate classes and competitions. Commissioners such as Hansen worry that fighters will get hurt and doctors won't be present.

Despite some of the beneficial regulation changes, DeLuca worries many of the provisions would only play into the stereotype that boxing is unsafe and populated by crooks and swindlers.

"Ultimately this will cast a negative light on the sport of boxing here in Utah," she said.

mcanham@sltrib.com

Conflict on Capitol Hill: Boxing vs. ultimate fighting
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