"I knew this might happen," Whitaker said quietly. "But still it was like a bad dream. Last night it was like someone put a knife in me and twisted it." Now, from the balcony of his hotel room, in the clear light of a new day, the man they call Sweet Pea had only to hope that the message he had delivered 12 hours earlier was as unmistakable as he had intended it to be.

He then waved a hand at everyone beyond the balcony railing and said, "I want to tell the world that I beat the unbeatable. From now on they're all going to look at me and say, 'There's the guy who beat Julio C�sar Ch�vez . He has been beaten. Pernell Whitaker beat him up.' I'm not a tormentor; I'm not a tormentor. But I whipped his ass last night. And easily. I mentally and physically beat him. I put an old-fashioned project beating on him. A housing authority beating. A ghetto beating. Everyone tried to build him up, but I condemned the building. Pound for pound, Pernell Whitaker is the best fighter in the world. I'm not just a runner; I can fight. Give me credit. Give me the respect I deserve. Give I me this one!"

Last Friday night Whitaker put on one of the most dazzling ring performances in recent years. Yet, within minutes, two of the three judges reduced this magnificent show to a mockery by scoring the 12-round bout a draw. The third judge gave the fight to Whitaker , but the official result was declared a "majority draw"—a judgment so violently in contempt of plausibility that even a number of Ch�vez 's partisans in the largely Mexican-American crowd of 65,000 appeared embarrassed as they quietly left the arena.

Whitaker 's boxing exhibition was a tactical and technical virtuosity that at times led Ch�vez on a bewildered, groping circuit of the ring, as if Ch�vez were chasing wisps of ringside smoke. That Whitaker , in a perverse reward for his brilliance, needed to plead for respect and recognition underscored how badly justice had been served. Expressions of outrage from Whitaker 's camp were immediate and to the point. "The rat bastards!" said Lou Duva , Whitaker 's co-trainer, as he plunged headlong for the exit. "I told you we were going to whip him. Then they stole the fight from us."

--William Nack, Sports Illustrated (Sept. 20, 1993)