Faith called me the other day and told me the news about Craig. "They asked him to fight the Butterbean," she said, "and he is scheduled to fight the Butterbean."
Faith was saying "Butterbean" with a kind of precise, mildly percussive delight that I'd never heard associated with the character, one Eric "Butterbean" Esch, a 300-to-400-pound boxing carnival act still subsisting on the oleaginous fringes of an alleged sport. Generally, Butterbean news is delivered in a languid head-in-hands monotone, as in, "Ah crap, not Butterbean."
So I went over to Faith and Craig's gym in Bridgeville with essentially one question for Mr. Wolfley, the former Steeler and a man for whom I could always comfortably direct questions that required actual thought. "Craig, there's no other way to put this," I said. "Um, what are ya thinkin'?"
He laughed, as he does easily and often, even for someone with a concussion appointment a week from Saturday.
"Concussions are very underrated," he said. "It's like a party in your head. As long as they can bring you around."
Faith wasn't there, but Craig had already had this discussion with her.
"She said that two of my most endearing qualities are my lack of judgment and my lack of common sense," he said. "But I've got it all over her in those departments. I mean, look who she married.
"She asked me if I could get hurt against Butterbean. I said, 'Yeah, I can get hurt.' She said, 'How bad? Will I still recognize ya?'"
I would say she probably will, at least within a few days.
Butterbean was supposed to fight former Chicago Bears sideshow William "The Refrigerator" Perry Feb. 2 in Gulfport, Miss., an event that screamed for cancellation and got it when the Fridge showed up for something called "Toughbowl II" last week in Las Vegas weighing a reported 422 pounds. Not wishing to promote history's first live double myocardial infarction, Mississippi promoters shifted their gaze toward Wolfley, who was beating up former San Francisco 49ers lineman Jesse Sapolu.
Faith told me Craig was by far the best of the former NFL players out there at Caesars Palace for a show that will be aired Super Bowl weekend on FX, and I believe her because Craig, even 10 years removed from his football life, never quite disconnected himself from a rather urgent need to hit people. He hits Faith. He hits clients. And it's a good thing for all of them and all of us that he's done it in a constructive way out there at the Martial Arts and Sports Complex, where he and Faith, a former competitive weightlifter and professional kick boxer, have been training each other and all manner of combatants in an array of sports since the mid-'90s.
"It's part of who I am," he says.
"Absolutely." I say. "But Butterbean?"
"I talked to him on the phone," Craig says. "He's 5-8, 360. He's a tremendous guy."
That means, if my math is right, that Craig will be outweighed by 100 pounds in the ring that night in Gulfport. And as for ring experience, Butterbean will be in his 68th professional prize fight; Craig in his, uh, first.
"He's got a great overhand right and a good left hook," Craig says. "And I expect I'll be meeting both of them."
Craig says boxing is not really his forte, but it's not really Butterbean's either. Butterbean's forte is eating, and he has managed to enter the ring with a 58-inch waist on occasion. His last loss came to former Weber State linebacker Billy Zumbrun, after which Butterbean ventured a guess that he'd come in overweight at 373. Nonetheless, he has knocked out 47 opponents, mostly recently the anonymous Brit Shane Woollas, who was removed from consciousness by Butterbean's first punch last June 17 in London.
"I make a lot of jokes about it, but it's very serious," Craig says. "It's four real rounds."
In Las Vegas, Craig fought three one-minute rounds in headgear. "Real rounds" are three minutes, and, of course, no protection. And yet it holds for him a surreal allure.
"It's a chance to challenge yourself at an age [43] when most of the physical challenges are over with," he said. "It's just an amazing opportunity. Going the distance -- that's my goal."
We just sat there silently for a minute.
"Hey," I said. "What if you win?"
"Just means he had a heart attack, probably."
You may e-mail Gene Collier at gcollier@post-gazette.com
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