IT’S HATTON, WITH A LITTLE HELP
JOSE LUIS CASTILLO’S SECRET WEAPON
MIGUEL COTTO’S DISBELIEVERS
THE BIG WHEEZE
WILL THE REAL FLOYD PLEASE STAND UP?
ONE OUT OF TWO IN MEMPHIS
FIGHTING MAYWEATHERS WORTH THE PRICE OF ADMISSION
NOTHING WRONG WITH IN-BETWEEN
ASKING TOO MUCH OF MAYWEATHER-DE LA HOYA
MAYWEATHER vs. DE LA HOYA: 20 EXPERTS TELL YOU WHO WILL WIN AND WHY
DIAZ-FREITAS: A TEST FOR BOTH
THE CAT IS OUT OF THE BAG
JOE CALZAGHE & THE WBO: SUCCESS BY ASSOCIATION
TAKING THE LONG VIEW
TAYLOR-SPINKS: NOT AS AWFUL AS YOU THINK
BY AN INCH OR A MILE, A LOSS ALL THE SAME?
SOLVING THE STEROID PROBLEM
IT’S GOOD TO BE A PUNCHER
CONGRATULATIONS—YOU’RE A CHAMPION!
MIXED MARTIAL ARTS’ DIRTY LITTLE SECRET
SEEING SHANE FOR WHAT HE IS
OSCAR MAKES THE RIGHT MOVE … AGAIN
OSCAR TABS ROACH AS TRAINER
HEY, DINO: CRY ME A RIVER
RICKY HATTON MORE FUN OUTSIDE THE RING THAN IN
STALLONE’S ROCKY BALBOA: A WELL-TIMED GOODBYE
TONEY WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG
MANNY PACQUIAO: THE RING’S 2006 FIGHTER OF THE YEAR

PREVIOUS RING UPDATE ARCHIVES

JULY-DECEMBER 2006

JANUARY-JUNE 2006

2005

IT’S HATTON, WITH A LITTLE HELP (June 25, 2007)

By William Dettloff

That was a hell of a left hook to the ribs that put Jose Luis Castillo down in the fourth round on Saturday night. But it wasn’t what kept him down.

Watch the end again. Look at Castillo’s face when Joe Cortez reaches 10: No grimace. No gasping for breath. No anguish. No fatigue, regret, or even resignation.

What did Castillo’s face say? It said: Screw it.

Even Oscar De La Hoya had the good sense to act like he was hurt: He smacked the canvas. He squinted. He rolled around a little.

Castillo? Screw it.

Disclaimer: I don’t know for certain what was going through Castillo’s mind when he took the full count from a knee because, well, I’m not a mind-reader. And even if I was, I don’t think it would help because I don’t understand Spanish.

Also, who knows, maybe Castillo’s ribs were sore going into the fight. Sometimes fighters don’t reveal it when they go into a fight injured. Shocking, I know.

But I’ve taken and landed bodyshots like the one Hatton landed—high on the ribs like that. Okay, so mostly taken rather than landed. The point is this: They’re usually not fight-enders. They don’t hit any vulnerable organs or anything that’s soft and fleshy.

I’m no doctor, but I know soft and fleshy. Believe me when I tell you. So while the bodyshot certainly was good enough to put Castillo down, I don’t believe it kept him there. What did?

The cumulative effect of a bunch of things, starting with the absurdly high $250,000 fine the Nevada State Athletic Commission hit Castillo with for not making weight for his rubber match with Diego Corrales.

Do these pompous pencil-pushers know how much money that is to a fighter whose name isn’t De La Hoya? Or to anyone outside the precious high-rollers who waddle into their casinos every week because they don’t know what to do with all their millions, so why not throw it away at the blackjack table?

Throw in the year Castillo couldn’t fight, and also the lawsuit Gary Shaw and Corrales’ wife have pending against him, which reminds me: If Joel Casamayor had decided not to fight when Corrales came in high for their last fight, could he have sued Corrales? Wouldn’t that have been sweet?

Castillo might not make any money at all for a while. How hard would you work if you knew you might not get paid for your labor? You couldn’t get me to come to work with pants on if there was a chance I wasn’t going to see one of my scary checks at the end of the week.

Here was the clincher (pun intended): Hatton’s first clinch came six seconds into the fight. Yes, I timed it. Clinches continued at roughly seven-second intervals thereafter, give or take, excluding between rounds.

It was just the kind of fight Hatton wanted: mauling, grabbing, holding, pushing, all the stuff he likes to do that’s apparently illegal only in theory. Castillo was not going to win that kind of fight. He knew it.

And then, Cortez, instead of doing something to stop the holding, docked Castillo a point for a low blow.

I’d have stayed down too.

None of this is to take away from Hatton’s performance. He was very good. He was outfighting Castillo; he had won every round and looked on his way to a win. He was faster, stronger, and, up to the point of the stoppage, clearly better. He even put Castillo on the deck, no small feat.

He just had a little help keeping him there.

Some random observations from last week:

I don’t follow any sports outside boxing and women’s beach volleyball, but I couldn’t avoid all the recent talk in football circles about the long-term effects of repeated concussions on NFL players. Everyone is all worked up because recent studies suggest that nasty blows to the cranium can cause depression, early onset Alzheimer’s disease, or other types of dementia.

I don’t want to appear insensitive, but duh. Where the hell has everyone been? Do boxing and football exist in parallel universes or something? If you want to see what repeated head blows and concussions do to a human’s cognitive and motor abilities, attend the induction banquet and dinner at the International Boxing Hall of Fame one year. And bring a translator. Better yet, start keeping track of fighters’ obituaries and note how many ex-pugs die from Alzheimer’s while in nursing homes. This is news?

Is it possible that Oliver McCall can still fight a little? If it’s true, Christmas trees everywhere should take cover.

Who else thinks that for a Stegosaurus, Paulie Malignaggi is a hell of a mover?

Good for Hatton for wearing that “Ricky Fatton” shirt in the ring. Man, he is a likable kid.

It’s astonishing how well Michael Buffer’s “let’s get ready to rumble” still works after all these years. Talk about catching lightning in a bottle.

I thought Max Kellerman did all right for his first time in Larry Merchant’s spot.

The IBO light welterweight title. Sigh …

Bill Dettloff can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.

JOSE LUIS CASTILLO’S SECRET WEAPON (June 18, 2007)

By William Dettloff

Jose Luis Castillo has a secret weapon going into his world junior welterweight title fight Saturday night with Ricky Hatton. It’s not a fancy move he learned from Floyd Mayweather or a secret punch Julio Cesar Chavez taught him in all those sparring sessions years ago. It is not specially designed sunglasses built to shield his corneas from Hatton’s shockingly pale skin.

Castillo’s known about this weapon for as long as he’s been a fighter. Everyone else knows about it too. In fact, the fighters get reminded about it before every fight in one of the sillier of the fight game’s many silly rituals. Sometimes we get to watch while they’re reminded. It’s thrilling.

What’s this secret weapon? The rulebook.

You wouldn’t know it from all the neck-high groin protectors you see out there, but there is a rulebook and it states, fairly clearly, that excessive clinching and holding is a no-no. It’s not allowed. You can’t do it. If you do you get points deducted, or, even better, disqualified. That’s a good thing and that’s the way it’s supposed to be.

Yet, we see excessive holding all the time. We see it in four-round fights between novices and in world title fights between pound-for-pound guys. We see it every time Hatton goes against an upper-tier guy who can hurt him. It is his strategy, and it’s illegal (not to mention boring).

Hatton’s fights against Kostya Tszyu, Luis Collazo, and even Juan Urango, for cripes sake, turned into sordid clutchfests as soon as Hatton found out those guys could hurt him. And because he’s young and strong and good at getting his head under a guy’s chin and running him into the ropes while he’s wrapped up, he did well. The referees those nights—Dave Parris, John Zablocki, and Tony Weeks, respectively—looked the other way. They shouldn’t have.

Hatton can fight. He had the exuberance and hubris of youth propelling him. He might have won those fights anyway and he might beat Castillo just because he’s younger, faster, and stronger. Fewer advantages than that have won fights before.

But if I’m Castillo, I solicit the powerful machine that is Top Rank, his promoter, to lobby hard and long for a strict and true adherence to the rules as they pertain to holding and clinching. And he should hope that Jay Nady gets the call. Nady wouldn’t allow John Ruiz to clinch incessantly against Roy Jones and he tried to stop Oleg Maskaev from doing it in his second fight with Hasim Rahman, but was overruled, from all evidence, by Larry Merchant, of all people.

Castillo is a better fighter than Hatton is, technically. But he may have to rely on the rulebook to win this one.

Some miscellaneous observations from last week:

If referees were as strict about enforcing rules around holding as they are the really silly ones, like those that prohibit talking in the ring and that require fighters touch gloves after the instructions, we’d all be a lot better off.

If James Toney and Danny Batchelder are any indication, steroids make you fat and clumsy, at least the ones that fighters take. The ballplayers must be getting all the good stuff.

A blood alcohol level three times above the legal limit, speeding on a crotch rocket with six kids counting on him. Tell me again why I should feel badly for Diego Corrales.

So both Larry Merchant and Tony Soprano survived … sort of. I guess. Right?

If while watching fights on ESPN2 you suddenly lose audio between rounds, don’t panic—it’s not David Chase preparing to blacken your screen. Boxing coordinating producer Matt Sandulli tells me the fights are on a five-second delay to “protect viewers from offensive language.” If a cornerman says something “inappropriate,” a button is hit that kills audio for as long as it’s necessary. Thank goodness Norm Stone isn’t around; we’d never hear a word between rounds.

Anyway, don’t you feel better knowing you’re protected? You could have been scarred for life by all that salty cornerman talk. Really, I don’t blame ESPN. Boxing was the only prime time programming on which you’d occasionally hear cursing on basic cable. But this is the environment we’re in: We’re scared of dirty words, of all things.

Speaking of words, regardless of what happens between now and the time he retires, words do not exist in the English language that would adequately capture the complete absurdity of calling Hasim Rahman a three-time world heavyweight champion.

That Rahman has found yet another new trainer and new “dedication” and then showed up for his waltz with Taurus Sykes at 261 pounds tells you all you need to know.

So Michael Grant is fighting again. Andrew Golota too. Anyone interested in a rematch? Nah, me neither.

Bill Dettloff can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.

MIGUEL COTTO’S DISBELIEVERS (June 11, 2007)

By William Dettloff

You wouldn’t know it from the 20,000 fans that packed Madison Square Garden Saturday night (thus keeping this reportedly dying sport alive for another week), but there’s a whole fight fan sub-culture out there that believes Miguel Cotto is some kind of fraud, a clever invention of Top Rank and HBO.

I know. It doesn’t make sense to me either. Never has. But they’re out there.

I haven’t done any kind of scientific study, but I suspect some of the anti-Cotto crowd hold memberships in the Oscar De La Hoya-Haters Club too. Just a hunch.

I imagine some of them still don’t believe in Cotto after his bloody win over Zab Judah. As proof of his illegitimacy, they’ll point to how Judah buzzed him in the first and seventh rounds, and they’ll say, like Judah did afterward, that Cotto’s low blows took Judah out of the fight.

They’ll point to the cuts that leaked blood from around Cotto’s right eye over the second half of the bout as evidence that on top of his myriad other flaws and vulnerabilities, he’s also a bleeder, probably on par with Chuck Wepner. We just never knew it before because he hasn’t fought anybody.

Lastly, they’ll say Cotto was a 2-1 favorite because everyone knew Judah fades in harder bouts and if Carlos Baldomir beat him, for crying out loud, then any decent welterweight could. What the hell does beating Zab Judah prove? If Cotto was so good, he should have blown Judah out.

Guys, it may be time to get back on the meds.

I’m not saying Cotto is the best welterweight in the world—necessarily. I’m not saying he’s as good as Felix Trinidad was at his best (though they’re two wholly dissimilar types of fighter). But Miguel Cotto can fight.

He is not without flaws: He’s easier to hit than you’d like, his hands are slow, and as strong as he is, he’s not the kind of explosive puncher Trinidad was. But he’s got those heavy hands, like Julio Cesar Chavez had, that pound you and pound you, and before you know what’s happening, you’re lumped up and bleeding and taking a knee just to get a second away from him, like Judah did in the ninth round. Cotto is as unflappable and resolute in there as any fighter I can recall.

It should be noted that it was still early in the fight when Judah got that look of panic on his face that he gets—you know the one—yet he stood in there pretty much and fought Cotto hard. He didn’t dog it. He took a long, hard beating, which is what Cotto specializes in. It’s a cliché, I know, but it was the kind of fight that shows you what your guy has.

Cotto has a lot and there aren’t many guys I’d pick to beat him.

Some miscellaneous observations from last week:

Note to all referees: Please stop reprimanding fighters for talking to one another during a match. (I’m looking at you, Arthur Mercante Jr.) Why can’t they talk? They’re not exchanging recipes for eggplant parm, for cripes sake; they’re talking smack, which is fun in any fight.

Who else thinks it would do Yoel Judah a world of good to get into a ring and burn off some of that hostility? I recommend a four-rounder with Kevin Cunningham, posthaste.

Let’s hear it for Gary Rosato, who didn’t let the big crowd and HBO pay-per-view audience keep him from delivering his signature, two-part slogan before Humberto Soto’s stoppage of Bobby Pacquiao. A lot of guys would have at least shaved it down. Not Rosato. You got both the “bang at the bell” and the “do it up.” What a showman. What more could you want for your $44.95?

I keep picturing Rosato at his kitchen table with pad and pencil, sweating over which of his slogans is the better one. Finally an epiphany: “Oh hell, they’re both so good, I can’t cut either. I’ll use ’em both!” And that’s how such art is born.

Yuri Foreman and Anthony Thompson are better than they looked against one another in the worst fight any of us had seen in, well, a week. Oddly, neither claimed afterward to be sick with Legionnaire’s Disease or Lupus. Still, the bigger question is who gave Louis CK the refereeing gig?

Someone screwed up and got a lovely, exotic round card girl on camera early in the telecast. I, for one, was deeply offended.

I hope never to stop finding humor in the name of Grover Wiley’s trainer, Midge Minor. Which leads me to wonder: Grover? Midge? What the hell is going on in Omaha?

I thought Randall Bailey did enough against Herman Ngoudjo, but not by much. Bailey really hates to get hit. More than is normal for a fighter, I think. Randall: Not everyone hits like you do. Suck it up.

If Jean Pascal is the best prospect Canada’s got, our friends to the north are in trouble. I mean, when it takes you 10 rounds to stop Mickey Dolenz, there’s a problem.

Bill Dettloff can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.

THE BIG WHEEZE (June 4, 2007)

By William Dettloff

The charitable thing to do is take Shannon Briggs at his word when he says he had pneumonia going into his loss Saturday night to Sultan Ibragimov. The problem is if it’s true, it means he knowingly duped anyone who paid to watch what was presumed to be a match between two conditioned, healthy athletes.

You could see Briggs’ point when he said afterward that he went ahead with the fight as a matter of pride and, yes, economics. We all do things for money that we know aren’t good for us, or at the least have contemplated how much risk we’d accept for the right amount of cash.

You can be sure that, afterward, Briggs found someone among his considerable herd of sycophants to agree with him that fighting in such a state was proof of his vast reservoir of courage—something on par with storming Omaha Beach or pulling babies from a raging house fire.

I realize this is the first time Briggs blamed a pitiable performance on pneumonia; it used to be all about the asthma. But seeing as how his punch output against Ibragimov was about the same as it was against Sergei Liakhovich, Jameel McCline, Francois Botha, and anyone else within driving distance of the top 10, it must be that he has had pneumonia all along.

Many will point to what was a terrible fight as proof that the quality of heavyweights currently contesting for the world title is at an all-time low. Those folks are forgetting that Ibragimov’s win had nothing whatever to do with the world heavyweight title: Going into the fight, The Ring rated Briggs no higher than number five, based entirely on his win over Liakhovich (and even then with some reluctance). Ibragimov wasn’t in the top 10.

So it wasn’t a title fight. You know it; we know it. It was a fight between two middling contenders, and there have always been middling heavyweight contenders.

In truth, it was barely a fight at all. (If PunchStat figures were compiled, I’m sure Briggs would have ended up in the negative.) But there was a moment that was instructive: After nine mind-numbingly boring rounds, Ibragimov missed three consecutive right-left combinations and then pushed Briggs to the floor midway through the 10th. The crowd of about 5,000, thinking something significant had happened, exploded.

Then they went back to booing, as was their right. But for those few seconds, it was a hell of a slugfest.

Some miscellaneous observations from last week:

Seemed to me that Barry Tompkins and Al Bernstein, both of whom I respect a great deal, brought their B-games to the Briggs-Ibragimov telecast. But how can you blame them?

When it comes to covering things up, the Bush administration has nothing on whomever it was that picked the outfits for the round card girls. What was it, 11 degrees in Boardwalk Hall?

Who else thinks there’s a good chance Jeff Mayweather is adopted?

Good for Lindsey Page for disqualifying Roberto Acevedo for excessive holding against Habib Allakhverdiev. Let’s get him to referee Hatton-Castillo.

Shamone Alvarez’ postfight embrace of Jose Luis Cruz went on way too long and, frankly, got a little uncomfortable.

Timothy Bradley’s win over Donald Camarena on ShoBox reminded me that there are few things sadder than watching a guy who can’t punch and wouldn’t let his hands go all night try for a last-round knockout. Good win for Bradley, though.

Best fight of the week was Kevin Finley’s six-round win over Brandon Wooten on ESPN2’s Wednesday Night Fights. Don’t fret if you missed it; it’ll probably be on ESPN Classic in a couple of weeks.

So they had to open up another 3,000 seats for Cotto-Judah next weekend. This is some dead sport, isn’t it?

Bill Dettloff can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.

WILL THE REAL FLOYD PLEASE STAND UP? (May 28, 2007)

By William Dettloff

Floyd Mayweather’s appearance at ringside on ESPN2’s Friday Night Fights last week was so odd it’s hard to let go without comment. It wasn’t just because of the way he stuck to his “I’m retired” bit, which already has become tiresome. He was so soft-spoken and reticent when talking with Joe Tessitore and Teddy Atlas that I found myself wondering if there’s not some kind of pathology at play that none of us knows about.

Mayweather seemed even more introverted than he had while in the studio with Jim Lampley and Larry Merchant for HBO’s rebroadcast of his win over Oscar De La Hoya. It’s hard to square either version with the ranting, boisterous “Pretty Boy Floyd” we all watched on HBO’s 24/7 series, or even with the rambunctious, fairly obnoxious kid we’ve seen before and just after other fights.

I know what you’re thinking, and it’s the same thing Mayweather said to Tessitore when Tessitore asked him who the real Floyd Mayweather is: The loud one is the showman. He’s trying to sell the fight.

But that doesn’t explain everything. Not really. It doesn’t explain how perfectly comfortable and at ease he appears to be with himself and his surroundings when he’s in selling mode, whether he’s flipping hundred-dollar bills into the air or getting in De La Hoya’s face at the podium. If that’s all an act, if the real Floyd Mayweather is the one we saw on Friday night, then he is the greatest actor this side of James Gandolfini.

Neither does it explain the past run-ins with the law, which would seem more consistent with the Mayweather we see proclaiming himself the best fighter who’s ever lived and accusing every fighter outside of Wladimir Klitschko of ducking him. Not to mention the kid who threw his father out of the house and told HBO all those years ago that he wouldn’t accept their “slave wages.”

It seems reasonable to me that the Floyd Mayweather from 24/7 is the real Floyd Mayweather. Then you get this kid who shows up and speaks barely loud enough to be heard and injects every statement with a tone that says he’s full of self-doubt and wishes someone was around to show him the way.

No celebrity is the person in reality that he or she is when the television lights come on. We’re all playing roles to one degree or another. In his living room, George Foreman is very likely closer to the 1970s version of himself than he is to the lovable grandfather you see pitching mufflers and grills. And have no doubt there was a method to Mike Tyson’s myriad offenses and vulgarities. Tyson knew how to sell.

If Mayweather has a switch that flips on and off between these two wildly dissimilar personalities, it is not inspired by the light of a camera or the echo from a microphone. Maybe it’s tripped only when there’s selling that needs to be done. But the gap that resides between the quiet, insecure, occasionally charming Floyd and the kid his father told 24/7 viewers he doesn’t recognize is as wide as the oceans. And that’s a little odd.

Some random observations from last week:

In case you haven’t heard, Foreman alleges, or re-alleges, in his new memoir, God In My Corner, that he was drugged prior to his 1974 loss to Ali. I wouldn’t have known he had a new book out if not for that tidbit, which was picked up by most of the major sports media outlets. Fighters are like everyone else—they don’t change and they don’t forget, even when they get filthy rich.

So Chuck Liddell, UFC’s biggest star, got his bell rung in the first round. After all that hype. Can you imagine what they’d be writing if Mayweather had knocked out De La Hoya with one punch in the first round? Every mainstream headline: Big Fight Fails To Deliver, Another Black Eye For Boxing. 

All that time off didn’t make Bones Adams any more exciting.

When is someone going to tell Shannon Briggs that that weird, aqua-blue skeletal warm-up suit he keeps wearing to press conferences is really ugly?

Bill Dettloff can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.

ONE OUT OF TWO IN MEMPHIS (May 21, 2007)

By William Dettloff

Lou DiBella spoke for most of us when, near the end of the eighth round of Jermain Taylor’s waltz with Cory Spinks, he stood up at ringside and screamed at Taylor and flailed his arms in such a way that suggested he thought perhaps Taylor should attack. It was the same thing for which a near apoplectic Emanuel Steward, not in the gentlest terms, pleaded all night.

Taylor seemed hardly to notice either one and went about his posing.

If Taylor’s own guys were so disgusted with him, certainly you couldn’t blame Cory Spinks for thinking at the final bell that he’d won. Judge Dick Flaherty thought so too, and what the hell, so did I, watching on television.

I had Spinks up by a couple at the end, though I readily confess I’m not altogether certain that every round I voted for Spinks wasn’t, in reality, more a round I was choosing to vote against Taylor. There’s a difference. I’m spiteful that way. I don’t say it’s right.

So if you want to say Taylor won because his punches were harder—though he never clearly hurt Spinks—it doesn’t matter to me. It was an entirely desultory affair in any event and one that we never should speak of again unless it is to make up stories about the fun things we did that night while other guys without meaningful lives watched some dull sporting event or another.

No such fiction is necessary as far as Kelly Pavlik’s bruising win over Edison Miranda is concerned. Pavlik, in going after Miranda and backing him up, did exactly what he said he was going to do. That’s rare in any vocation. That Pavlik went right after Miranda the way he did demonstrated two things: first, that that’s the best way to beat a puncher, so long as you have the equipment to do it; and second, Pavlik has the equipment.

My hunch is that Taylor’s problems with Spinks will compel DiBella to steer his fighter away from the fleet-footed Joe Calzaghe and toward Pavlik, whom, we are thankful, Taylor certainly will not have to chase.

Some miscellaneous observations from last week:

Taylor’s newfound bravado is decidedly unappealing. Whether it’s an act suggested by DiBella or a reaction to his own dwindling confidence, it undermines one of the best reasons to like Jermain: He’s a heck of a nice kid.

I don’t agree with all of Larry Merchant’s suggestions to make boxing more entertaining, but I’ll add one to the list: heavily penalize repeated clinching. Ricky Hatton might never win another fight at a high level, but it’s the best way to keep action moving in the ring.

Pesky wabbit?

The website fightnews.com reports that the WBA now recognizes three “world” cruiserweight champions: a “super” champion, an “interim” champion, and a champion “in recess.” Any of you alphabet apologists feel like explaining how this is a wonderful thing for the sport, please, grab a crayon and jot me a note. I’d love to hear from you.

Mauro Lucero is maybe the most dependable higher-level early-round kayo loser of his generation.

Zahir Raheem can boo-hoo all he wants about not getting a break. Who wants to give a guy a break who’s so boring he makes Cory Spinks look like Rocky Graziano? I wanted to gouge out my eyes by the third round of his win over Christobal Cruz.

Conversely, Joe Greene is a guy I want to see again.

Those who mock Floyd Mayweather for having the temerity to suggest he would beat Ray Leonard forget (or are too young to remember) how widely Leonard was once despised for assuming Ray Robinson’s nickname. It was seen as an insult to Robinson. This sport is consumed by generational myopia.

Shaun George throws four punches a round and is exhausted at the end of an eight-rounder. Who’s his hero, Shannon Briggs?

Glen Johnson remains a hell of a tough assignment for anyone at or around his weight.

Bill Dettloff can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.

FIGHTING MAYWEATHERS WORTH THE PRICE OF ADMISSION (May 14, 2007)

By William Dettloff

It would not be unreasonable to conclude that some chunk of the 2.15 million pay-per-view buys Mayweather-De La Hoya did was owed to HBO’s brilliantly produced De La Hoya-Mayweather 24/7 documentary, whose four episodes I watched back-to-back before the rebroadcast of the fight on Saturday night. Selling the fight was, after all, the point of the show.

Given the success of the PPV show and the critical acclaim the miniseries received, it would make sense that HBO and other cable franchises would want to try the formula again in the future. If it worked for Mayweather-De La Hoya, it should work for most of the bigger fights, right? After all, the fight game has more great stories and great characters than any business you can name and its players are the most forthright and honest in all of sport.

If only it were that easy. Watching the series in one sitting, from beginning to end, made it clear to me that the stars of 24/7 were the Mayweathers in general, and Floyd Sr. in particular. I’ve never been a huge fan of the elder Mayweather, due mainly to his habit of putting himself in the spotlight, usually at the expense of his own fighter. His claims to be the best trainer in the world are dubious at best, and even if he were and it could be proved, a fight is not about him; at most it is about his fighter, and really, it’s about two fighters.

That said, there is something sad and mesmerizing about Mayweather when he talks of raising his son to be a champion. His bewildered incredulity at Floyd Jr. choosing Uncle Roger to stay on as his trainer rather than rewarding his father for “installing” in him the things it took to make him a champion is poignant and stirring. With features almost reptilian and the cool, tired air of an old, broken down rock star, Floyd Sr. is terrifically compelling. I could watch him for hours and be thoroughly entertained, even if I could understand only, say, a quarter of what he was saying.

Roger, for his part, may be more interesting now than he was as a fighter. He’s evolved into a kind of sinister version of “Grady” from the 1970s sitcom Sanford and Son, finding malicious delight in his contribution to his brother’s angst and in his own position as the favored chief second. Lastly, Floyd Jr. was lovably wicked in the role of villain. I can’t imagine there’s another family in all of boxing as enormously entertaining and dysfunctional as the Mayweathers, which means any attempt to duplicate with another fighting family what 24/7 achieved will come across as forced and contrived.

HBO has long been applauded for the quality of its Countdown shows, which essentially are smaller-budget versions of 24/7. Unless the producers happen on another mess as captivating as the Mayweathers, they probably should leave well enough alone. But that doesn’t mean they should stop looking. They, and we, might get lucky.

* * *

Unless science has been lying to us all these years, there’s no reason for any of us to feel badly for Diego Corrales. In his condition, he’s not feeling a thing. The people we should feel badly for are his wife, from whom he was separated at the time of his death, and his six children. They will not have an easy time of it. For what it’s worth, the same qualities that made “Chico” endearing as a fighter—his recklessness, his disregard for the long-term consequences of his actions—made him something less than an ideal spouse and parent. They also, of course, contributed mightily to his death.

There are few positives one can pull from the heartbreak that is a 29-year-old man dying and leaving behind a burgeoning family, but we look anyway. Here’s a very small one: Corrales’ future was not rosy. His personal life was in a shambles, as were his financial affairs. Most tellingly, his days as a top-flight fighter were fast coming to an end. For one who so clearly loved being a prizefighter, the next 30 years or so were not going to be pleasant.

Some miscellaneous thoughts from last week:

Who was that meek, soft-spoken guy posing as Floyd Mayweather in the HBO studios?

I wouldn’t mind seeing De La Hoya do a “world tour” of sorts. The more he fights the better it is for everybody. And with him tied up, maybe we get to see Mayweather against Shane Mosely, which is more interesting anyway than Mayweather-De La Hoya II.

Larry Merchant and Tony Soprano, two HBO institutions, will make their final appearances, as we know them, within a few weeks of one another. It’s almost too much to bear. Who’s next, Larry David?

Terry Smith seems like an awful nice guy, but has positively no future as a heavyweight contender and as such would do well to cut his losses now and learn another trade before he gets hurt.

I’m not convinced that Jermain Taylor-Cory Spinks this weekend is the blowout it appears on paper. Either way, Edison Miranda-Kelly Pavlik is a can’t-miss fight. I like Miranda in a war.

Bill Dettloff can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.

NOTHING WRONG WITH IN-BETWEEN (May 7, 2007)

By William Dettloff

Anyone who went into the Mayweather-De La Hoya fight hoping to see boxing "saved" surely was disappointed at the end. It was not, the hopeful optimists were crushed to discover, Dempsey-Firpo or Ali-Frazier I or even Barrera-Morales.

Presumably, a fight on the level of one of those would have sent boxing’s stock skyrocketing and depleted the ranks of the NFL and NBA, whose members we’d witness scrambling into fight gyms all across America.

Conversely, the pessimists among us had reason to feel relieved. Judging by the crowd of 16,700, which booed only once or twice early on and cheered wildly toward the end (not to mention anytime De La Hoya came to within a foot of landing), it was not a dreadful bore. Maybe it was on par with Hagler-Duran.

It was tense, skillfully fought, and competitive, as evidenced by the split decision in Mayweather’s favor by the reasonably close scores of 116-112, 115-113, and 113-115 (off TV, I had Mayweather winning 115-114). To the latter group, anything more affirming than a first-round double disqualification would be seen as the balm staving off fatal infection, at least until a rematch could be cobbled together.

As it was, both sides had something to cheer about early, as De La Hoya, on whose shoulders any chances for great drama rested, started well by pushing Mayweather back, trapping him on the ropes and hammering home some hooks to the body. Halfway through, I had Oscar up 3-2-1 in rounds. He won a couple after that too, but then Mayweather started in spurts to stand his ground and fire. That coincided with De La Hoya’s inevitable late-round fade, and that was the difference.

At any rate, these all-or-nothing prefight perceptions were given life mostly (but, regrettably, not entirely) by a mainstream press organization that lives or dies based on its ability to sell only worst- and best-case scenarios: If this happens, we all live happily ever after. If not, it’s the end. There’s no in-between.

Well, there is an in-between, and Mayweather-De La Hoya was it. There’s nothing wrong with it; it’s where reality falls most of the time and it’s what we should have expected.

For all his genius, and indeed probably because of it, Mayweather has never been a scintillating prizefighter with appeal to the masses. His great talent is in defense and when was the last time a defensive great was exciting in the way that mainstream sports fans define exciting? At the box office, Willie Pep was no match for Ray Robinson.

De La Hoya, in younger, smaller incarnations, was a murderous puncher, but has not been remotely such since his days at 140, which ended 10 years and about $100-million ago (his obliteration of Ricardo Mayorga notwithstanding). So if Mayweather’s stock is in defense and De La Hoya’s is in, well, considerable skill and swarthy good looks, where was all the great drama supposed to come from?

In the end a younger, faster, slightly more skilled fighter outboxed an older, more popular, and richer one who still can fight a bit, incidentally. It was a good, taut, reasonably exciting fight that never had the power to save boxing or kill it. No single fight does, not matter how interesting. For that we should be happy. 

Some miscellaneous thoughts from last week:

Who else would have kicked in an extra couple of bucks to see Roger and Floyd Sr. go at it in a four-round walkout bout?

Mayweather’s mid-week assertion that he was willing to die in the ring almost prompted me to change my pick. Oh well. Another theory shot to hell. It won’t be the last.

If someone decides to produce a reality show about the Mayweather clan, I am so there.

Some of De La Hoya’s best moments came when he stepped to Mayweather and jabbed hard and repeatedly at his chest, as he did in the seventh round. Why he didn’t keep that up only he knows.

I imagine the HBO producers in the truck weren’t overly happy when Larry Merchant let Floyd Sr. ramble, mostly unintelligibly, for what felt like nine rounds during Rocky Juarez’ pedestrian win over Jose Hernandez. Good for you, Larry.

Should have included this last week: Kudos to Max Kellerman for reminding Juan Diaz after Diaz’ win over Acelino Freitas that Joel Casamayor is the world lightweight champ. You’re free to disagree, of course, so long as you recognize that in doing so you're supporting the status quo.

Am I the only one who finds John Scully’s broadcast-acting on ESPN Classic thoroughly unconvincing?

Eddie Chambers can fight, folks.

If there’s a more enthusiastic, upbeat guy in the fight media than Joe Tessitore, I haven’t heard him.

How long are we all supposed to pretend Chris Arreloa’s name isn’t funny?

ASKING TOO MUCH OF MAYWEATHER-DE LA HOYA (April 30, 2007)

By William Dettloff

Anyone with a vested interest in the health of the fight business will be holding his breath on Saturday night. So much of the talk going into the Floyd Mayweather-Oscar De La Hoya fight has been about how desperate boxing is for a big night. This is the fight, ostensibly because it will be seen by more “casual” fans than any in recent years, that could give the game a badly needed boost—if it goes well.

Conversely, the thinking goes, a bad night—a rotten decision, a boring chess match, an inconclusive ending—will send the last remnants of the fight-viewing public scrambling over to mixed martial arts, the latest participant in the apparently endless parade of pro boxing’s supposed undertakers.

There is so much pressure on the event to be perfect that those who yearn for boxing to stave off death for another few years will hardly be able to enjoy the fight for what it is: a hell of a nice matchup. There’s too much at stake.

I remember the last time I felt like that. A huge fight was coming up, a heavyweight championship rematch that was sure to shatter pay-per-view records and send casual fans by the millions into gyms and book stores everywhere. A whole generation would be turned on to the fight game if only everything went right.

Though I had a mild personal rooting interest, I told anyone who asked that I didn’t care who won so long as it was a good fight and the sport represented itself well. That was the truth; it was that important, I thought. It was that big. Boxing needed the boost, and if it went right, the whole world would see what I saw in the fight game, and then everything would be all right.

Then the fight came and the whole world watched Mike Tyson chew off a fleshy bit of Evander Holyfield’s ear and spit it on to the canvas.

Put aside for the moment the tantalizing possibility that Tyson’s meltdown actually helped the sport because it galvanized the notion that anything can happen in a prizefight. Go with the more conventional (and probably inaccurate) assumption that it hurt because the brutality and mayhem turned off casual viewers and sent them back to the safe, comfortable banality of pro football and major league baseball.

The day after, boxing was still with us and had no fewer fans than it had the day before. And even if it did, so what. It had been true to itself. It had been what it always has been.

If Mayweather-De La Hoya turns out to be the greatest fight in history, the sport will be fundamentally no different on Monday morning, May 7. There will still be too many weight classes and governing bodies, too many titlists and sharks and broken bodies and bruised brains: the same sport.

If it’s a bomb and all those casual fans feel cheated, it still will have more heroes and characters and great stories and courageous acts and lives changed than all of the so-called mainstream sports combined: the same sport it was on May 4.

It doesn’t matter if Mayweather-De La Hoya breeds new fans or turns away the ones it has. We either want this sport for what it is or we don’t, and it will be true to itself regardless. So enjoy Mayweather-De La Hoya for what it is: a hell of a big and interesting prizefight. No more, no less.

Some miscellaneous observations from last week

Acelino Freitas may be the only fighter I’ve seen who cries like a baby when he wins and smiles broadly when he loses. He looked so happy after quitting against Juan Diaz, I thought he’d won the lottery. Either way, when you’re satisfied enough at having put on a decent show, your days as a compelling fighter are over.

The performance of HBO’s revamped Boxing After Dark team was very good, easily its best so far. Even Lennox Lewis sounded good. Bob Papa, one of the very few blow-by-blow guys around who keeps his ego in check and understands his role is not to provide analysis, has made an enormous difference. Good for him and good for HBO for hiring him.

I know I’m supposed to hate Mayweather after watching HBO’s 24/7 episodes, but I find myself liking him more all the time. He’s real. And he’s all fighter.

Vernon Paris is one hell of a good-looking prospect.

Referee Joe Cooper’s command to Mike Anchondo and Darling Jimenez to “throw some thunder!” ranks as the dumbest yet of all the dumb referee slogans out there. What an abomination. Don’t give up your day job, Joe. Give up the night one instead. Please.

Speaking of dumb referee slogans, I was reminded while watching an old tape that Joe Cortez is on at least his second incarnation with his “I’m fair but I’m firm” silliness. Do you remember what he used to use? The even more objectionable, “Remember, I’m the boss man in here.” So at least he’s making progress. 

By the way, how long was Anchondo supposed to lie face-first on the canvas before a ringside doctor came over to see if he still had a pulse? After a while I started wondering if one of the eight or nine fans in the house would have to call 911 to get him some attention.

What’s the over/under on how long it takes Jason Litzau to get starched again?

My pick Saturday night: Mayweather by decision, maybe even late stoppage. He is at the top of his game. De La Hoya is not at the top of his, and it might not matter if he were.

Bill Dettloff can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net

MAYWEATHER vs. DE LA HOYA: 20 EXPERTS TELL YOU WHO WILL WIN AND WHY
(April 24, 2007)

Compiled By Robert Mladinich

The biggest fight of the new millennium will take place on May 5 at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas and will be televised by HBO Pay-Per-View. It pits welterweight champion Floyd Mayweather, 37-0 (24), who is generally regarded as the best pound-for-pound fighter in the world, against WBC super lightweight titleholder Oscar De La Hoya, 38-4 (30), who is the sport’s biggest attraction. They will clash at 154 pounds in one of those fights where almost any outcome is within the bounds of reason.

The boxing world is wondering if Mayweather will knock off the naturally bigger De La Hoya and emerge as the fighter of this generation, or if “The Golden Boy” can still outshine even the toughest opposition.

To better gauge what industry insiders are thinking, The Ring polled 20 experts who have offered the following array of insights and predictions about this highly anticipated battle.

Shelley Finkel (manager): “I don’t have any firm conviction, but I’m leaning toward Oscar to win. Since Floyd has moved up in weight, he hasn’t been able to hurt anyone. Oscar is the biggest guy he’s ever fought. He’s also a lot faster than what Floyd is used to. Oscar has got to be aggressive and not allow Floyd to move in and out. This comes down to a great big guy versus a great little guy. Look at Bernard Hopkins against Oscar. A similar thing could happen here, but I expect Oscar to win a decision.”

Tim Smith (New York Daily News): “This is a fairly close fight because both fighters are so talented. De La Hoya has to use his greater power to catch up to and slow down Floyd. I don’t think that Floyd can knock out Oscar, and if Oscar can get to him, he can do damage. But I feel that Mayweather is this generation’s Sugar Ray Robinson or at least as close as anyone can get to that level, so I like Mayweather by decision.”

Teddy Atlas (trainer and ESPN analyst): “This fight can’t be business as usual for De La Hoya. It entails him understanding exactly what Mayweather’s strengths are and working to negate them. People say that De La Hoya is the bigger, longer, and taller fighter, but both guys started out as junior lightweights. De La Hoya has to keep Mayweather off-stride and not let him get in and out. Zab Judah gave Mayweather trouble for four or five rounds, but didn’t have the ability or the substance to keep it up. This fight might be coming five years too late for De La Hoya, but I think he has enough experience and substance for me to make a solid case for him. I would make Mayweather the favorite, but I love live underdogs and De La Hoya is a very live underdog.”

Tim Graham (Buffalo News and president of the Boxing Writers Association of America): “I refuse to say the petulant Mayweather will outclass De La Hoya, but unless Mayweather’s hand breaks, he’ll be the better man in the ring. De La Hoya hasn’t beaten an elite-level fighter in years. He looked shaky in beating Felix Sturm, while Mayweather has never been anything but dominant. Mayweather will be too slick for De La Hoya. De La Hoya is skilled enough to go the distance, but I see the referee stepping in late to stop Oscar from getting picked apart. Mayweather by TKO.”

Pat Lynch (manager of Arturo Gatti, who fought both De La Hoya and Mayweather): “Oscar is the bigger guy, but Mayweather won’t take any chances and will fight very smart. If Mayweather stays within a good game plan, which I think he will do, he will do what he does best: frustrate the other guy. I really love Oscar for never ducking anyone, but I don’t think the size factor that everyone is talking about will make a big difference. Mayweather looks very comfortable and strong at welterweight. It was a natural maturation process for him. He hasn’t lost any of his speed along the way. I like Mayweather by decision.”

Tim Dahlberg (Associated Press): “If De La Hoya can land one of his left hooks, the fight could be competitive. But I think that De La Hoya deluded himself after the Ricardo Mayorga fight into thinking that victory prepared him for a big fight like this one. The whole question is whether or not Oscar can land his left hook. Mayweather is much too quick for Oscar. There’s always a chance that Mayweather’s going up in weight might factor in, but I don’t think it will. Both guys started off at 130 and kept moving up. That neutralizes the size issue. Mayweather by decision.”

Hector Roca (trainer): “De La Hoya is too big and too strong for Mayweather. He probably walks around at 160, 165 pounds. Plus, he has so much more experience in big, competitive fights. People think that Mayweather can’t be hit, but Zab Judah hit him plenty. The fight will be competitive for a while, but after four or five rounds De La Hoya will be in command. He is something special, and he will win a decision.”

Steve Farhood (ShoBox commentator): “This is the career defining fight for Mayweather, so he’ll be hungrier and more focused than ever. On top of that, he’s been the more active fighter. Oscar is going to find out that he can’t turn his talent on and off at will. The only advantage for De La Hoya is his size, but this fight figures to be a boxing match, so that advantage shouldn’t surface. I pick Mayweather to win on points in a fast-paced but careful boxing match.”

Joey Gamache (former WBA super featherweight and lightweight titleholder): “I don’t think that De La Hoya is finished yet. He will be able to use his advantage in size and his versatility to beat Mayweather. Mayweather is a fully loaded welterweight, but De La Hoya is a big, strong guy with a lot of ring intelligence. I can’t see Mayweather hurting him. He’s a decent puncher, but not a good enough puncher to slow De La Hoya down. De La Hoya is smart enough to find weaknesses in Mayweather and take advantage of them. De La Hoya will find a way to win by decision.”

Dan Rafael (ESPN.com senior writer): “Speed kills, so I have to lean toward Mayweather. He is younger, faster, and hungrier. People are making Oscar out to be this much bigger guy, but both guys fought their whole careers in the same weight divisions. I don’t think that size is a real issue. If Oscar can’t hit Floyd, none of that will matter anyway. Mayweather by decision.”

Carlos Baldomir (former welterweight champion who lost the title to Mayweather): “Why not just ask me to give you the winning Argentina lottery numbers? That would be just as hard as picking the winner of this fight. I found out personally what fantastic foot and hand speed Mayweather has. You have to be in the ring with him to really appreciate his skills. He is a once-in-a-generation type fighter, but so is De La Hoya. Oscar is also the bigger, stronger man. I think it will be a competitive fight with a lot of twists and turns. I can see either guy winning, but am leaning toward Oscar by decision due to his size and strength. I know they say that speed kills, but Oscar has an excellent record for choosing the right opponent at the right time. He is very smart in and out of the ring.”

Grady Brewer (winner of season two of The Contender): “Mayweather should come out with a big win. He’s too slick, fast on his feet, and has much better upper body movement. I give De La Hoya a lot of credit, but I don’t see how he can win. He will do what he has to do to try to win, but it won’t be enough. Mayweather will be in and out all night. This will frustrate De La Hoya. Mayweather is capable of stopping De La Hoya, but I think he will win a decision.”

Bruce Silverglade (Gleason’s Gym owner): “This is a very easy fight for Mayweather. De La Hoya is past his prime and Mayweather is at the top of his game. The weight won’t matter; it’s the age factor that is more important. De La Hoya is not the De La Hoya of five, six, or seven years ago. Mayweather is the new kid on the block. He’s now the type of fighter that De La Hoya was five, six, or seven years ago. In a one-sided fight, Mayweather will win a decision.”

Nick Charles (ShoBox commentator): “I have immense respect for Oscar, but Floyd always puts his opponents in fights they can’t win. Oscar, of course, is always dangerous and he never ducks anyone, but Floyd has matured into a natural welterweight. He looks really strong at that weight, so I don’t think it will hurt him. Floyd should be able to dictate the range and the pace of the fight and win a clear-cut decision.”

Mark Breland (Olympic gold medalist and former WBA welterweight titleholder): “De La Hoya is the bigger puncher, but I have to go with Floyd because of his craftiness and smartness. Plus, his defense is spectacular. When De La Hoya tries to be defensive, it usually doesn’t work for him. He’s a much better offensive fighter, but Floyd will make him fight defensively. I don’t think the weight will affect Floyd because he probably walks around at 160 pounds. Mayweather by decision.”

Steve Forbes (former IBF junior lightweight titleholder): “This is a very difficult fight for both guys. I sparred quite a bit with Floyd in the early days of his career, so I can tell you how good he is. In the gym now, he always spars with bigger and stronger guys, so I don’t think the size difference will matter. I think this fight will start off real good, with lots of back and forth momentum. Floyd should take over by the seventh or eighth round and win a decision.”

Paul Williams (welterweight contender): “Good little men don’t usually beat good big men, but anything can happen in this fight. I can see either guy winning. If Floyd uses his speed and quickness, he wins easily. If he stands and trades with De La Hoya, he gets beat. One part of me sees Floyd running and boxing to a decision. But if I had to bet, I’d go with De La Hoya. He knows how to get the most out of his talent. De La Hoya by decision.

Buddy McGirt (former IBF junior welterweight and WBC welterweight titleholder and current trainer): “This is a tough pick. People say Oscar is old, but he’s in better shape than he gets credit for. Both of these guys are great fighters who can rumble. Both have been in big fights, so they have big fight experience. Floyd looks pretty unbeatable, but if anyone can beat him it’s Oscar. It’s a hard pick, but since you’re forcing me, I guess I lean toward Oscar by decision.”

Eddie McLoughlin (promoter of middleweight John Duddy): “This is a pick ’em fight, but I have to go with De La Hoya. Mayweather will probably pick his shots and win the first few rounds, but De La Hoya will be able to use his size and strength to walk him down and win a nip-and-tuck battle by about two or three rounds.”

Iran Barkley (former WBC middleweight, IBF super middleweight, and WBA light heavyweight titleholder): “Oscar doesn’t fare too well against pressure, so Floyd will have to put a lot of pressure on him to win. Even Oscar’s advantage in height and reach won’t be enough to keep Floyd away. Even though Floyd is moving up in weight, I think he’s just getting stronger. With his speed and what little power he has, he’ll outbox De La Hoya and win a decision.”

Final Tally: Mayweather 12; De La Hoya 8

DIAZ-FREITAS: A TEST FOR BOTH (April 23, 2007)

By William Dettloff

I can’t name another 38-1 (32) fighter who gets as little respect as does Acelino Freitas, who faces Juan Diaz on Saturday in a very interesting little fight. Maybe it’s because after every win he sobs like a menstruating mother of seven. Maybe it’s because he quit on his feet against Diego Corrales. Or maybe it’s because he retired and then announced his comeback before he even had time to grow love handles.

Whatever the case, Diaz would do well not to listen to the sniggering. For all his flaws, Freitas can fight. He was doing quite well against Corrales before he ran out of gas, and has wins, however debatable, over Zahir Raheem and world lightweight champion Joel Casamayor, who was then much better than he is today.

Those who would judge Freitas’ heart based solely on the Corrales fight would do well to remember the wonderful war he and Jorge Barrios waged in August 2003, and that Freitas came out on top. It may be that Freitas has since gotten soft, that the beautiful Brazilian models, the money, and the hero worship at home have conspired to smooth the hard edge that any fighter needs at the higher levels. We will see.

If there’s a guy who can test that softness, it is Diaz, 31-0 (15), whose apparently limitless energy and determined exuberance will bring out the dog in anybody. He has become a better and more successful fighter than I thought would be the case after watching some of his early efforts. Trainer Ronnie Shields has done a wonderful job with him.

Most noteworthy is Diaz’ defense. Most guys who force a fight at the pace at which he operates take a lot of punches; think Wayne McCullough, who, bless his gargantuan heart, feels insulted if his opponent misses one. Diaz moves his head like he’s forever trying to shake water out of his ears.

Here’s why it’s an intriguing fight despite what would appear to be Diaz’ numerous advantages: He’ll have a hard time hurting Freitas. Diaz is a busy puncher because he can’t be a hard puncher. He knows it. Freitas knows it. But he’ll be right in Freitas’ face, and, good defense or not, right in his punching range too. It will be Freitas’ choice, then, whether to punch or box—he can do both capably.

I hope Freitas chooses the former. If he does, he won’t be the only one getting tested. If he can land early, we’ll learn something about Diaz too.

Some miscellaneous observations from last week:

A highly placed employee at one of the major promotional outfits e-mailed me in response to last week’s column about the quality of undercards on PPV shows. His major point: Experience suggests fans buy PPVs based almost entirely on the quality of the main event—not the undercard. So why should a promoter put together a more expensive undercard when he’s not going to see it reflected in PPV sales?

It’s a reasonable point, albeit a shortsighted one in my view. Either way, you can make a difference by buying PPV shows that are solid from top to bottom and passing on those that aren’t.

Good for Kendall Holt, who completely outclassed Mike Arnaoutis Friday night. And don’t blame ShoBox that it wasn’t competitive; it appeared an excellent matchup going in.

I don’t know what they’re teaching the fighters in the Bahamas, but whatever it is, Jermain Mackey and Elkeana Saunders are paying attention.

Mike Marrone and Malachy Farrell provided sad proof that one’s body appearance is due almost entirely to genetics: You can work out every day for 10 years, you’re not going to look like Shannon Briggs unless your body is programmed to. That’s the bad news. The good news is now that you know it, you can get the hell off the treadmill.

So Otis Griffin, winner of The Next Great Champ, won some regional title or another. Big deal. I still say Mia St. John stops him.

Bill Dettloff can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.

THE CAT IS OUT OF THE BAG (April 16, 2007)

By William Dettloff

Fight fans are so accustomed to watching lame, uninspired pay-per-view cards that, to the less secure among us, it’s seemed almost as though there must be something very complex about it all that we just don’t get.

Sure, if you’re a sad-eyed cynic, you could guess the suits figure they’ll make all the money on the main event so who cares about the undercard. But if you have any good at all in you, sometimes you have to figure it’s just you.

You’re not getting something. There’s something you just don’t know about what all goes into putting on one of these big shows, something about money and contracts and TV rights and all those complicated things guys in ties who suck on big cigars and live in big houses deal with.

You? You just want to call your cable guy, order the fight, look at a round-card girl, and pay the bill at the end of the month. What do you know from contracts?

There must be some reason big cards are stuffed with prospects against scrubs and has-beens against other has-beens in fights no one cares about or would watch even if they were on basic cable, never mind pay-per-view. There’s some secret only smart people know. Some reason it has to happen that way.

Well guess what: There is no complicated reason, other than the cynical one, and Top Rank’s pay-per-view card on Saturday with Manny Pacquiao stopping Jorge Solis in the main event proved it.

Regular readers know I’m not inclined to praise big-time promoters or others who have wealth and power (primarily because I have neither myself). And I remember quite well when the undercards of all of Bob Arum’s big shows featured Butterbean and Mia St. John—two names that never should appear in the same sentence unless they’re competing against one another in a wet T-shirt contest.

But I’m compelled, reluctantly, to give credit where credit is due: Saturday’s PPV was damned good. Right off the bat Edgar Sosa and Brian Viloria put on a high-octane slugfest that was as good, technically and in pace, as anything you’ll see the rest of the year. Scoring off TV, I had it a little wider at 117-113 for Sosa than did the judges, but the right guy won and it was a hell of a good prizefight.

Almost before they could get Sosa and Viloria out of the ring, Julio Cesar Chavez Jr., was in there, whacking the bejesus out of Anthony Shuler. You can call this a prospect against a no-hoper if you like, but Shuler is not a white guy from the great America Plains. He’s a black guy from the Bronx who came to fight and looked like he knew what he was doing. Chavez blew him out.

They’d barely scraped Shuler off the mat before Christian Mijares started taking the steam out of Jorge Arce. It was an exciting fight for one that wasn’t especially competitive, and bloody too, and an upset to boot. The good news? It doesn’t necessarily prevent an Arce-Vic Darchinyan fight. Why would it? And while we’re at it, why not Mijares against Darchinyan?

By the end, Pacquiao’s distracted win over Solis was almost anti-climactic. Pacquiao, under-trained and by the end looking a little worried, broke Solis’ shaky will almost the moment he started landing cleanly. Until then, it was a tense, awkward fight whose ending was cheered lustily by the reported 14,793 fans that attended at the Alamodome in San Antonio. That’s a nice crowd, all things considered.

This was probably the best card I’ve seen since the Miguel Cotto-Paulie Malignaggi show at Madison Square Garden last June. That too was a Top Rank production, and that proves it’s not an accident when we get these solid shows. There’s no big secret. It’s nothing complicated. Promoters know what they’re doing. They know when they’re giving us crap and when they’re giving us our money’s worth. Either way, it’s deliberate.

And now, we know they know. And they know we know.

The cat is out of the bag.

Some miscellaneous observations from last week:

As if the fights on Saturday night’s show weren’t good enough, the broadcast team of Al Berntsein, Wally Matthews, and Genaro Hernandez was outstanding. Just three smart, likable guys watching the fights and talking about what they were watching. Excellent work all the way around.

Good for Ruslan Chagaev for beating Nicolay Valuev, but he’s “The White Tyson” like George Chuvalo was the white Ali.

It was lucky for Mijares that Terry O’Connor wasn’t officiating his win over Arce. At one point, he made Arce miss about 12 punches in a row, an achievement O’Connor would have honored by immediately stopping the fight to save him from further punishment.

Chavez Jr. may not be his father, but you can be a hell of a fighter and still not be “The Lion Of Culiacan.” I’ve said this before: The kid can fight.

It looked to me like Ruben Galvan, had he not been cut, could have gone some rounds with Zab Judah. And let’s be honest, if you can give Judah some rounds, you’re halfway to beating him.

If you don’t think Andrey Tsurkan looks like Christopher Walken, you’re not concentrating.

Miguel Cotto is one serious dude.

Bill Dettloff can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.

JOE CALZAGHE & THE WBO: SUCCESS BY ASSOCIATION (April 9, 2007)

By William Dettloff

If there’s anyone happier than Joe Calzaghe and Frank Warren over the turnout at Calzaghe’s easy win Saturday night over Peter Manfredo, it’s Francisco Valcarel and the rest of the executive members of the WBO.

In a way, Calzaghe has done for the WBO what Larry Holmes did for the then-fledgling IBF in 1983, when, after the WBC wouldn’t sanction his title defense against Marvis Frazier, Holmes told them to go screw and accepted the IBF’s belt. The move conferred on the IBF instant (if undue) credibility.

Holmes would say later that the fighter makes the belt, not the other way around, and that’s certainly been the case with Calzaghe. Yes, the WBO has been around for years, but Calzaghe’s burgeoning popularity coupled with incessant chattering by members of the fight press who should know better about his “20th title defense” provided the WBO an unprecedented amount of American press that, importantly, wasn’t negative.

There are other factors at play too. For a long while, a good number of the WBO’s better-known champions were based in Europe, especially in the super middleweight division. As the game has assumed a more international flavor over the last several years, Europeans fighters are becoming some of the sport’s bigger attractions.

Also, even the most astute fans are willing to look past the vulgarities associated with a rogue sanctioning body if their hero happens to hold that body’s belt. How many good, sharp Calzaghe fans would rightly hold the WBO in contempt and, by extension, view its champions as illegitimate if Calzaghe were, say, the WBC champ for 10 years? I’d bet many. Well, the inverse is true as well.

Whatever the case, Calzaghe defended the world super middleweight title against Manfredo in exactly the way he should have. He was far too fast and skilled for Manfredo, who, after about a second of protest at what was an entirely ludicrous stoppage, looked fairly relieved. I couldn’t blame him.

It’s obvious that the fight for Calzaghe now is against Mikkel Kessler, and not Bernard Hopkins, Jermain Taylor, Winky Wright, or anyone else. As much as I’d like to see those fights, it would be irresponsible of Calzaghe to go out of his division for a big fight when there is one equally as big that’s available in his own weight class. He and Sven Ottke should have met and never did. He and Kessler must. We’ll see what happens.

We’ll see too eventually what’s to come of Diego Corrales, who was hammered and nearly stopped by Joshua Clottey, to the great surprise of few. A big part of Corrales’ problem was he’s a puncher. A puncher has to be able to hurt the guy in front of him, and Corrales couldn’t have hurt Clottey if he were hitting him with a pick-ax.

There’s more to Corrales’ trouble. He’s always been easy to hit, has never had a great chin, and whether it’s at welter or junior welter, he’s going to have a hard time doing damage and withstanding it against these bigger guys. If there’s a more personable fighter in this business, I haven’t seen him, so my hope is that he gets out soon and somehow finds another way to live a fulfilling and productive life. I am not optimistic.

Some miscellaneous observations from last week:

With the mustache, didn’t Calzaghe look a little like Freddy Mercury?

Good for Art Binkowski for outlasting Raphael Butler. For most of the fight, I was seeing Binkowski’s as a poor man’s Rocky Sekorski. I was wrong; at minimum he’s a poor man’s Steve Zouski.

It’s being reported that the Shannon Briggs-Sultan Ibragimov fight will be on pay-per-view. (Insert sound of crickets here.)

Did anyone else notice? Not a single shot of a round-card girl on the Showtime card. Terrible.

If the crowd at the Shrine Mosque was representative of fight fans in Springfield, Missouri, we need to get some more high-profile cards out there. They rocked.

Boy, Matt Godfrey made a huge mistake coming out as a southpaw, didn’t he?

Who the hell is scouting Pito Cardona’s opponents?

If Travis Walker, Jason Estrada, and George Garcia are the faces of the next generation of American heavyweights, I weep for the future.

Given the cozy relationship between Showtime and Gary Shaw, I tend to believe Roy Jones when he says the network was forcing Shaw on him for a fight with Anthony Hanshaw. And if that’s the case, Jones had every right to walk. I say, good for him.

Bill Dettloff can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.

TAKING THE LONG VIEW (April 2, 2007)

By William Dettloff

Henry Maske’s upset win in Germany Saturday night over Virgil Hill wasn’t just a happy ending to Maske’s one-fight comeback or a giant “screw-you” to Teddy Atlas (though it was both of those things in part).

It largely was a reminder, too, that for all the dire prognoses issued the fight business in the United States over the last several years, it remains a viable and mostly thriving industry in other parts of the world.

A man wiser than I reminded me recently that Americans have a tendency to view as irrelevant anything that isn’t the number-one attraction in America. What Americans call soccer, for example, is maybe the most popular organized game on the planet.

Yet, it’s never really caught on as a spectator sport in the States: Yuppie parents by the millions shuttle their kids off to soccer practice on Sunday morning, then go home and watch NFL games all day, or NASCAR, or major league baseball. Go figure.

Likewise, as we read over and over how prizefighting in America is taking its last breaths (a claim that’s been made in about each of the last seven decades, I’ll note), it keeps packing them in everywhere else.

A reported 12,500 fans showed up at the Olympiahalle in Munich to watch Maske, a 40-year-old who hadn’t fought in 10 years, beat Hill, a 43-year-old who probably hasn’t looked good in about as long.

Wladimir Klitschko sold out the SAP Arena in Mannheim—against Ray Austin, for cripes sake. And Mikkel Kessler-Librado Andrade sold out the 20,000-seat Parken Arena in Copenhagen.

Promoters are expecting at least 30,000 fans in Cardiff, Wales to watch Joe Calzaghe face Peter Manfredo next week, and Manny Pacquiao can’t excise a boil without it getting in every newspaper in the Philippines. There are more examples from all over the world.

What does it mean to you if you’re sitting somewhere in America reading this? If you’re in Cleveland or Detroit or Los Angeles or Chicago, what the hell do you care if business is booming in Russia?

Depends on how you look at it. Take the long view: The world is shrinking. We are connected to one another more than at any time in human history. And sport in America is increasingly international in its makeup. That’s all good news.

So is this: Whether it’s around the corner or a thousand miles away, a fight is a fight.

Some miscellaneous observations from last week:

If you think Irene Pacheco looked about a hundred years old against Jhonny Gonzalez, you’re not alone.

For someone nobody would know if she had a different last name, Laila Ali sure doesn’t lack for confidence, does she?

Joel Julio is a heck of an offensive fighter, but will forever wilt against good fighters who can hit him back. On the plus side, he has Pernell Whitaker and Mark Breland training him. If he doesn’t pick up something from them, even accidentally, he won’t pick it up anywhere.

I’m not sure if it was the power of low expectations or what, but I wasn’t entirely nauseated by the commentary of Todd Harris and Bernard Hopkins on ESPN’s Friday Night Fights.

Who wants to bet that when Ali marries Curtis Conway, her self-written marriage vows will begin and end with a list of things she won’t do?

Hey, Laila, I didn’t hear it the first 17 times you said it: Do you have other things going on in your life besides boxing that pay you more and that you’re also really, really good at?

If Ann Wolfe isn’t Edison Miranda in drag, I don’t know who is.

Bill Dettloff can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.

TAYLOR-SPINKS: NOT AS AWFUL AS YOU THINK (March 26, 2007)

By William Dettloff

Lou DiBella apparently grew so tired of all the complaining about Jermain Taylor’s inability to back up Kassim Ouma, last December, that he reportedly went out and got Cory Spinks, who even has a hard time moving forward when he’s on one of those human conveyor belts at the airport.

Spinks, THE RING’s top-rated junior middleweight and a former world welterweight champion, is as pure a stick-and-move boxer as you can imagine. The most likely scenario when the two meet, which will reportedly be in May, is that his movement and jab will befuddle Taylor for a few rounds, then Spinks will fade, as he did against Zab Judah and Roman Karmazin, and probably get stopped.

This will be seen as rather a cause for celebration in the Taylor camp, as the world middleweight champion hasn’t stopped anyone in 48 rounds of boxing.

Taylor engendered some amount of good will after beating Bernard Hopkins for the title, first by agreeing to fight Hopkins again and then by giving a shot to Winky Wright. It’s hard to recall another young champion who faced such stiff competition right out of the box.

Rightly or wrongly, he sacrificed a bit of that good will by facing Ouma, a very good junior middleweight, and more yet when, despite his greater strength and punch, he allowed Ouma to back him up all night.

The selection of Spinks (which came only after negotiations for bouts against Wright and Sergio Mora fell through) has produced a collective groan in the boxing industry.

I’m not ready to castigate Taylor and DiBella for choosing Spinks. There’s a long history of middleweight champions facing smaller fighters moving up.

At least four of Marvelous Marvin Hagler’s most notable opponents—Ray Leonard, Thomas Hearns, Roberto Duran, and John Mugabi—came from lighter weight classes. (Duran made his bones at lightweight, for cripes sake.) In fact, Hagler fought Hearns, Mugabi, and Leonard in consecutive fights.

The great Carlos Monzon defended against Jose Napoles, didn’t he?

Dick Tiger gave Emile Griffith a shot at the middleweight title four months after Griffith’s final welterweight title defense (and was sorry he did).

No one’s suggesting that Cory Spinks is the equal of any of the guys I’ve just mentioned, so put down the mouse. I’m merely suggesting that there’s precedent for what Taylor is doing. And if he going to defend against a junior middleweight, at least he picked a good one in Spinks, who is RING’s top-rated 154-pounder.

That’s not to say this sort of matchmaking isn’t going to chip away at the good will Taylor established in the early days of his reign. It absolutely is and there’s a way for him to restore that good will, assuming he beats Spinks: face the winner of the proposed Edison Miranda-Kelly Pavlik fight.

And say it now—loud and clear. If he doesn’t, if the next opponent isn’t a top middleweight, he will undo all that early respect he got by taking on Hopkins and Wright.

But if he does, all will be forgiven.

Some miscellaneous observations from last week:

Good for Jesse Feliciano for reminding us again that sometimes tough is better than good.

Said Quali looked good blowing out Irving Garcia, didn’t he?

What did I like best about Mikkel Kessler in his win over Librado Andrade? That in the last few rounds, when he knew he was way ahead, he tried to knock Andrade into the fourth row anyway.

That stood in stark contrast to Jean-Marc Mormeck’s pitiable display over the last four rounds of his win over O’Neil Bell.

Are there any fighters anymore who don’t have a belt? Just checking.

I kept wondering what was holding Andrade up until I remembered he used to work at a Jack-in-the-Box. Nothing will harden a man’s resolve like the memories of working in a fast-food joint and the terrible contemplation that he might have to again one day.

I was digging the prefight atmosphere in Copenhagen’s Parken Arena until the ring announcer intoned, “Let’s get this party started.” Yikes. Talk about a buzz kill.

I’d advise Joe Calzaghe to steer clear of Kessler, but I imagine he and his people are way ahead of me. Speaking of Calzaghe, I expect he will stop Peter Manfredo late or win a decision in a fight that is a bit more competitive than most expect it to be. And for the record, it will be Calzaghe’s second defense of the world title he claimed when he beat Jeff Lacy, not the 135th or whatever defense of a worthless belt whose organization, need we remind you, once elevated a dead man in its rankings. Either the organization is worthy of contempt or it isn’t. You can’t have it both ways.

If it’s true that Bob Papa replaced Fran Charles on Boxing After Dark because of the work Charles does for the NFL, then I can only say thank goodness for the NFL.

This is the only solace I can offer those who have a hard time reconciling continued patronage of a sport in which Laurence Cole can referee Kessler-Andrade while serving a suspension in Texas: Being a fight fan is a lot like watching an episode of The L Word: You have to sit through a lot of annoying crap to get to the good stuff, but sooner or later the good stuff comes. And when it does, it’s usually worth it.

Bill Dettloff can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.

BY AN INCH OR A MILE, A LOSS ALL THE SAME? (March 19, 2007)

By William Dettloff

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter whether Juan Manuel Marquez beat Marco Antonio Barrera by two points on Saturday night or by the combined 19 points by which the esteemed Las Vegas judges had him winning.

It doesn’t matter if Marquez won a reasonably close fight, or if he won by a very large margin, such as was reflected on the card submitted by judge Doug Tucker, who deemed Barrera only effective enough to have deserved two of the 12 rounds. (For what it’s worth, watching on television I had Marquez winning by two points.)

I only can wish good things for Mr. Tucker; it mustn’t be fun being so demonstrably horrid at a task, even a part-time one like this, and having everyone know it. It’s terrible when the awful secret comes out.

It doesn’t matter because it will go down simply as a win for Marquez, as it should. He was the better man: sharper, quicker, and, down the stretch, fresher. And in five years—hell, five months—no one will care that Barrera scored a knockdown in the seventh that was missed, somewhat laughably, by Jay Nady, who shares some things in common with Mr. Tucker.

No one will care that to many of us it appeared a taut, nip-and-tuck fight, fought at the highest level in the sport. It won’t matter that its frequent shifts in momentum and crackling exchanges clearly pleased a good number of the 8,127 fans, who frequently could be seen standing and cheering.

It won’t matter a wit that the suits at HBO apparently deemed it so good that before the next morning had cleared, they’d already scratched in a date for the rematch.

Why won’t it matter? Because the loser gets no penalty points for being on the wrong end of an absurd score.

No one cares anymore that Jose Guerra called Sugar Ray Leonard a 118-110 winner over Marvelous Marvin Hagler. No one remembers that Jerry Roth and Dalby Shirly had Oscar De La Hoya winning by a combined 12 points over Pernell Whitaker. All that gets remembered is the “W” in the record book.

So what that the rest of the world saw a close, competitive fight? As long as the right guy won at the end, who cares?

Hagler cared. Whitaker cared. Barrera cares.

Great fighters can take a loss. Maybe they don’t like it, even at the end when they know it’s coming. But they can take it if they’re beaten fair and square and the effort they made is recognized. If they kept it close and fought hard and well, and that’s reflected in the score at the end, they can have some peace about it. They can move on. Maybe they’re even a little relieved.

But 118-109? It’s an insult to Barrera and to anyone who saw it. In the end the result is the same, so it doesn’t matter. But it should. Barrera deserved better.

Some random observations from last week:

As bad as the scoring was in Marquez-Barrera, it was worse in Demetrius Hopkins’ win over Steve Forbes. Just terrible.

If you want a clue as to why something seems screwy in Vegas, take a look at Keith Kizer, who replaced Marc Ratner as the Executive Director of the Nevada State Athletic Commission (Ratner, you’ll recall, took his Ned Flanders routine over to UFC). Kizer’s non-answer to Larry Merchant’s question about instant replay was the worst kind of bureaucratic double-talk. I’d have more respect for him if he said, “You’ll never see instant replay here.” That would have been honest. Instead, he took the politician’s route of answering without answering. Coward.

Next time you think Brian Kenny has a dream job, remember how hard he had to work in the studio on Friday night with guest Arthur Mercante Sr. That couldn’t have been easy. Or fun.

A couple more victories like the one he got over Vinny Madalone and mark my word, Evan Fields, er, Evander Holyfield, will get a shot at an alphabet belt.

The good news: Oscar De La Hoya-Floyd Mayweather will be huge. The bad news: Then what?

Congratulations to Jean-Marc Mormeck on his win over O’Neil Bell. He didn’t deserve the rematch, but he sure made the most of it.

Reflecting on Nady’s botched knockdown call and the myriad other boners he’s pulled over the years, I can only ponder the question: Why couldn’t Zab Judah have had better aim with that stool?

Bill Dettloff can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.

SOLVING THE STEROID PROBLEM (March 12, 2007)

By William Dettloff

It seems lately like every week a boxer’s name pops up in connection with a failed test for steroids, or some investigation or another.

There’s an easy fix to this problem, for boxing and for all sports, but it makes so much sense I can’t imagine it’ll ever happen:

Legalize them.

That’s right. What we’ve come to know as illegal, performance-enhancing drugs should be legal and available to any adult athlete who wants them.

We’ve allowed our ever-evolving understanding of human physiology to improve athletic performance in almost every sport. This greater understanding is why records are broken and why athletes are bigger, stronger, and faster than they were 40 years ago.

Why does this greater understanding and the resultant progress apply to everything but steroid use? Why is it different?

I know what you’re saying; Benny Leonard never took steroids. Jack Dempsey didn’t need human growth hormone. It’s not right.

Leonard also did roadwork wearing dress shoes. Dempsey soaked his hands in brine.

We know now that fighters can weight-train without bulking up. We know that pasta is a better prefight meal than steak. We know more than we did then and we use that knowledge to improve athletic performance. The benefits of responsible steroid use are a part of that knowledge gain.

Athletes in many sports, particularly baseball and golf, are undergoing laser eye surgery to improve their games, or wearing extra strong corrective lenses. Neither of these options was available even 20 years ago. Why isn’t that considered cheating? What’s the difference?

Is it because steroids are harmful? Well, so are cigarettes. And so is alcohol. So is overeating. And so is getting hit on the head by a grown man wearing leather gloves. What’s the point?

Moreover, if steroid use is harmful, it’s largely because it’s illegal and as a result improperly dispensed and administered by non-medical professionals. Want to make it safe? Make it legal.

Want proof? The FDA approved human growth hormone to treat under-sized healthy children based on studies showing its safety. The National Institutes of Health called human growth hormone “safe, with rare side effects” in children, and the American Association of Clinical Endocrinologists found the same results in a trial using adults. You can look it up.

What about the athletes who choose not to use? Aren’t they at a disadvantage? Sure they are. Same way they are if they don’t eat right, train right, or choose to do their roadwork in dress shoes.

Some miscellaneous observations from last