SHORTLY after a fighter tests positive for a banned substance, they will typically trudge down a well-trodden path which, from an outside perspective, remains as infuriating as it is predictable.
In many ways, the process that such fighters take – hoping to prove their innocence – represents boxing’s version of Groundhog Day, a film where the same story is played on repeat.
Like the majority of boxers who pop hot, Phil Connors, the leading character in the film, is at first in denial, firmly believing that normal life will resume soon enough.
But later, he discovers that there is a mightily concerning issue at play, inspiring him to no longer resist but instead surrender to his new reality.
As a result, Connors – played by Bill Murray – begins to rectify the mistakes he made along the way, genuinely wishing to improve the artificial world around him.
It was only then that the constant rinse-and-repeat cycle was finally broken, allowing him, as a much-improved version of his former self, to rejoin society with a newly-gained perspective on life.
Unfortunately for boxing fans, though, it seems that such a utopic state of affairs – in relation to doping, that is – remains a fair distance away.
Instead, what we have are two excuses – or rather, two defences – which, almost like a Monopoly get-out-of-jail-free card, will likely soften the blow of an otherwise harsher punishment or, worse still, remove the threat of a ban altogether.
Available in prolific supply, these monopoly cards, if you will, tend not to require a shred of scientific backing, either.
A farmer, for instance, could quite easily support the contamination defence – admitting to providing a fighter with an unconventional selection of meats – only to then perform an almighty U-turn years later after deciding that they had, in fact, not received anywhere near enough money.
As it happens, the contamination angle is what Jaime Munguia, along with his team, has chosen to introduce, albeit with a far more sophisticated approach.
It emerged earlier this month that the super-middleweight contender had returned adverse findings of exogenous testosterone, a banned substance, following a Voluntary Anti-Doping Agency (VADA) test.
And unsurprisingly, his B-sample test, which Team Munguia released a statement on several days ago, produced the exact same result.
While maintaining their contamination theory, those responsible for salvaging the Mexican’s career also claim that a list of Munguia’s supplements and products will soon be submitted for laboratory testing.
Equally, Team Munguia said in its statement that, upon request, the 28-year-old is set to receive clarification regarding the specific levels of exogenous testosterone detected in his system.
This, in turn, could lend itself to the ‘trace amounts’ defence, which, as evidenced by Ryan Garcia, tends to deliver a more desirable outcome for the fighter involved.
For Garcia, the low levels of Ostarine detected in his system inspired the New York State Athletic Commission (NYSAC) to hand him a lenient year-long ban last year.
But of course, there was little regard, it seemed, for the possibility of microdosing, a method where fighters take smaller dosages of a performance-enhancing substance while, in doing so, attempting to fly under the radar.
Regardless of any ‘contamination’ or ‘trace amounts’ defences, however, the British Boxing Board of Control (BBBofC) must ultimately reach a verdict based on Munguia’s positive samples.
At the very least, the extent of his punishment should be generated from a set of cold hard facts, presented by individuals who boast an expert level of knowledge in their field.
But even then, the impact that a ban from the BBBofC would have on Munguia, who could just as easily approach a different commission when lining up his next outing, remains to be seen.
