20 PREDICTIONS FOR 2006
RICKY HATTON: THE RING MAGAZINE’S “FIGHTER OF THE YEAR”
FROM GERMANY WITH LOVE
WINKY CAN’T WIN FOR LOSING
VAZQUEZ WINS VACANT JUNIOR FEATHERWEIGHT TITLE
TAYLOR-HOPKINS & INSTANT KARMA
SHANNON BRIGGS STILL TRAPPED
A FIGHT GAME THANKSGIVING
STEVIE JOHNSTON & WHY SIZE ISN’T EVERYTHING
KLITSCHKO’S RETIREMENT VACATES THE RING HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE
JOHN RUIZ SINKS TO NEW LOW
WINKY DOES THE “WRIGHT” THING:
VACATES THE RING JUNIOR MIDDLEWEIGHT TITLE
THE BOXING WOUNDED & IMPERFECT SOLUTIONS
SHARMBA MITCHELL: SHOT OR JUST RELOADING?
BOXING IMMORAL? WHAT’S YOUR POINT?
WHO’S AFRAID OF A LITTLE CONTROVERSY?
THE RING CHAMPIONSHIP POLICY PROGRESS REPORT
10 REASONS TO LOVE JAMES TONEY
CORRALES vs. CASTILLO II: EXPERTS’ PICKS
TARVER-JONES III PREVIEW: IT WON’T BE CLOSE
THE PROOF WAS IN ATLANTIC CITY
LEAVANDER JOHNSON & SURVIVOR’S GUILT
ERIK MORALES AND THE PETER PRINCIPLE
TIM AUSTIN’S RETURN
HOLYFIELD FINALLY WINS A FIGHT; GOOD FOR HIM
THE HEALTHIEST CORPSE IN THE CEMETERY
THE RING’S VACANT 168-POUND CHAMPIONSHIP ON THE LINE
IN UPCOMING CALZAGHE-LACY BOUT
THE CONTENDER COMING TO ESPN APRIL 2006
EXCLUSIVE! JERMAIN TAYLOR: “I HAVE TO TEACH HOPKINS MANNERS!”
HOPKINS-TAYLOR TO GO AGAIN DECEMBER 3
CORRALES AND CASTILLO AT IT AGAIN
20 PREDICTIONS FOR 2006 (December 27, 2005)
By William Dettloff
I don’t believe in psychic ability and never have been great at predicting the future. But I feel pretty strongly about these predictions for the coming year. Remember, you read it here first.
1. Cedric Kushner will come around finally to recognize what everyone else already knows: He looked better when he was fat.
2. Don King will continue to get sued by one fighter after another. And just as many will sign long-term, multifight contracts with him.
3. Shannon Briggs will score five more first-round knockouts, talk himself into a fight with Sam Peter, and get his spleen knocked into the fourth row.
4. Bernard Hopkins will make headlines around the sporting world. Not by announcing a comeback or by beating Roy Jones, but by digging into his own pocket to put change in a parking meter.
5. Lennox Lewis will maintain that he is not coming back, and mean it. George Foreman will tell us the opposite, and be lying.
6. Oscar De La Hoya will tell us again how he has to keep fighting because he wants to “save” boxing. Hey, thanks, big guy.
7. John Ruiz will be sorry he sued to get James Toney’s blood tested again for steroids when the re-tests reveal it wasn’t Nandalone after all that was in Toney’s blood when he outpointed Ruiz last April. It was Jamoca Almond Fudge.
8. The debut episode of The Contender on ESPN will draw nine million viewers. The following week it will be pre-empted for the World Series of Backgammon, live from Cleveland.
9. Lou Savarese, tired of competing in triathlons and in the best shape of his life, will announce a comeback, get a fight on ESPN2, and throw an average of three punches a round while losing a unanimous decision to a guy you’ll never see again.
10. Marco Antonio Barrera and Erik Morales will fight again. It will rock.
11. Some guy will remember that the WBC went bankrupt not long ago and wonder how it could be that it’s still around. Then he’ll shake his head.
12. Zab Judah will wake up one morning, look in the mirror, and say: “I’ve got jewelry in my teeth. What the hell was I thinking?”
13. Three or four fighters will die. Nobody will know what to do about it. There won’t be anything to do.
14. Eight or nine fighters nobody ever heard of will get famous on The Contender, four or five will make several hundred thousand dollars, and Thomas Hauser will call for an investigation into ESPN’s unfair labor practices.
15. In about the ninth round of Winky Wright’s win over Jermain Taylor, Lou DiBella’s head will explode at ringside.
16. Don King will announce that due to the sport’s poor health, he’s not able to pay his fighters in money any longer, and will instead compensate them in baked beans. Immediately, Chris Byrd will claim he was shorted two-dozen beans.
17. Jean-Marc Mormeck will run over everyone he faces.
19. There will be no boxing on network television.
19. We will get confirmation, finally, that Tommy Gallagher is the bastard son of Art Carney.
20. Emanuel Steward will offer that Tye Fields is probably the greatest heavyweight he’s ever seen, right before he announces that he’s signed on to train Tye Fields.
Bill Dettloff can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net
RICKY HATTON: THE RING MAGAZINE’S “FIGHTER OF THE YEAR” (December 21, 2005)
The Ring is pleased to announce that it has selected Ricky Hatton as 2005’s Fighter of the Year. Hatton is the first-ever British boxer to receive the award since its inception in 1928.
Hatton earned top honors by stopping long-reigning junior welterweight champion Kostya Tszyu at the end of the 11th round on June 4 in Manchester, England. In his second bout of the year, on November 26, Hatton knocked out WBA junior welterweight titleholder Carlos Maussa in the ninth round in Sheffield, England.
“Not only did Hatton take the title away from one of the greatest 140-pounders of all-time and make his first defense against a highly rated challenger, he did it in the sort of entertaining and definitive manner that attracts fans and fills venues,” said The Ring’s Editor-in-Chief Nigel Collins.
Hatton joins a long list of famous fighters to win The Ring’s Fighter of the Year award, starting with then-heavyweight champion Gene Tunney. Other past recipients include, Muhammad Ali (’63, ’72, ’74, ’75, ’78), Joe Louis (’36, ’38, ’39, ’41), Rocky Marciano (’52, ’54, ’55), Ray Robinson (’42, ’51), and Mike Tyson (’86, ’88).
Other annual awards—Fight, Round, Knockout, Comeback, Upset, Event—will be announced in the April 2006 issue of The Ring Extra, which goes on sale the first week of February.
FROM GERMANY WITH LOVE (December 19, 2005)
By William Dettloff
I didn’t see Nicolay Valuev’s win over John Ruiz on Saturday night, but there are any number of comic angles one could pursue coming out of it. If I had more room and a stronger constitution I’d attempt all of them. I don’t, so I’ll hit just a few of my favorites.
Ruiz’ postfight griping over referee Stanley Christodoulou’s failure to penalize Valuev for—get this—excessive holding and elbowing would be laughable if it weren’t so pathetic. Hey, at least he got warned. From what I’ve read, Christodoulou warned him all night. That’s something, at least. Ruiz clinches more than any heavyweight fighter I’ve ever seen. It’s an integral part of his … style, a term I’m using very loosely. And most referees couldn’t care less. They let him chug along for all 12 rounds: Punch, clinch. Punch, clinch. Punch, punch, clinch. Clinch, clinch, punch. Every time I see Ruiz fight I whisper a prayer of thanks to Jose Sulaiman that title fights aren’t 15 rounds anymore.
The only guy I can recall who stopped his grappling from the outset was Jay Nady in Ruiz’ dismal loss to Roy Jones. Not coincidentally, Ruiz’ rap after losing to Valuev (“the referee didn’t do his job”) is very close to what he said after Jones embarrassed him: “The referee wouldn’t let me fight my fight.” Um, he’s not supposed to. It’s illegal. Duh. So if Valuev got away with some clinching and mauling, good for him. I don’t care if he held on to Ruiz for whole rounds at a time and got away with it. What goes around comes around.
You knew it would work out that Don King, who almost certainly now owns some piece or another of Valuev, would win again. Ruiz and his camp have been busting King’s hump for the same reasons King’s fighters always bust his hump, and even threatened to sue him. So what happens? Ruiz goes over to Germany and loses to a guy who’s so bereft of talent and skill that he’s happy enough just to be making a living. Think he cares if King gets him a unification tournament, or even pays him his minimum? Hell no. King could pay him in macaroni and cheese. Valuev would be happy to get it. It’s another win-win for The Don.
I was glad to read too that Norm Stone was as charming as ever, grabbing the WBA belt off of Valuev’s shoulder after the decision was announced, which started a melee in the ring. Stone has fulfilled his role as the Lou Albano of boxing. I can’t blame the guy for being upset; even the crowd in Germany booed the decision, according to reports, so you know Ruiz was robbed. But Stone has never been one to suffer insult (or anything else) quietly or with any dignity, so at least he’s consistent.
I probably shouldn’t be too hard on Valuev until I see some tape of him, but I can say this: He’s the scariest-looking heavyweight around. It’s not enough that he’s seven feet tall and more than 300 pounds; he’s also hairier than Robin Williams and facially looks an awful lot like Lurch from The Addams Family. In today’s heavyweight division, that can get you a good long way.
Bill can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.
WINKY CAN’T WIN FOR LOSING (December 12, 2005)
By William Dettloff
Winky Wright’s less than scintillating performance against Sam Soliman on Saturday might have been good for the fans, but it wasn’t good for Wright. Never mind that he won a good, hard, exciting scrap, and that in most cases doing that will only make a fighter bigger—especially one like Wright, who isn’t known for making exciting fights. It didn’t make him bigger because it didn’t get him any closer to Jermain Taylor. To the contrary, unless I’m missing something, it will only serve to extend his wait.
You might wonder how that could be. Logic would tell you that since he didn’t look especially good, he improved his chances of getting Taylor in the ring soon. Conversely, if he’d looked like the same guy who’d shut down Felix Trinidad, Taylor wouldn’t want any part of him. Logical, right? The better a guy looks the longer you stay away from him. But this is the fight game. What’s logical isn’t usually what’s smartest.
First things first: It wasn’t that Wright was bad. And it isn’t that he’s shot or that he’s not interested in fighting anymore or any of that. It was three things: Soliman’s style, which is just the kind to have if you want to beat a defensive guy like Wright, the head cold that nagged Wright throughout the latter stages of his training, and Wright’s occasional tendency to fight down to the level of his opponent.
So what’s the problem? How did Wright hurt himself? He gave Lou DiBella, Taylor’s promoter, the excuse he needed to put off a Taylor-Wright fight. If Wright had looked like his usual self, or at least shut out Soliman like many expected him to, the fighting public would clamor for Taylor to defend against him. They’d demand it, especially in view of Taylor’s two largely inconclusive fights with Bernard Hopkins. And DiBella, I suspect, knows Taylor isn’t ready for Wright. He may never be.
But Wright didn’t shut Soliman out. He didn’t come close. That makes it easy for DiBella to stall, saying the fight won’t sell and that Wright needs to make a stronger case for himself as the top contender. And don’t be fooled by the fact that Wright is the top alphabet challenger. The organizations can be persuaded to break all kinds of rules if the conditions are right. There are ways around everything with these guys. And under the right circumstances Taylor’s team will be perfectly happy to toss the alphabet titles—and their sanctioning fees—and defend The Ring title.
DiBella may get some resistance, though, from an unexpected source: Taylor. It wasn’t long after he squeaked by Hopkins the second time that Taylor, who is as earnest as he is young, was telling all the world how he’d love to meet Wright as soon as possible. He’s a tricky southpaw? Big deal. He shut out Trinidad and smacked around Mosley—twice? Whatever.
That’s what youth and going 24 rounds with Hopkins does for a fighter—it makes him fearless and full of vigor. He just wants to get the rest of his career going, get on with the business of being a champion. He wants to be great. He wants to fight the best. That’s what most young champions want to do. They forget that this is a business, and a tough one, and it’s only prudent to make a little money before you go calling out the best guys out there. Thank goodness they have promoters around to rein them in.
Bill can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.
VAZQUEZ WINS VACANT JUNIOR FEATHERWEIGHT TITLE (December 11, 2005)
By Nigel Collins
Another world championship vacancy was filled on December 3, when Israel Vazquez stopped Oscar Larios in the third round to win The Ring magazine’s junior featherweight title. Vazquez became the first 122-pounder to win The Ring belt since former champion Paulie Ayala vacated in 2004 in order to campaign as a featherweight.
Vazquez is the seventh active fighter to currently hold a Ring championship. He joins Jean-Marc Mormeck (cruiserweight), Antonio Tarver (light heavyweight), Jermain Taylor (middleweight), Zab Judah (welterweight), Ricky Hatton (junior welterweight), and Diego Corrales (lightweight).
The Vazquez-Larios bout qualified to fill the vacancy because Larios entered the ring as The Ring’s number-one contender, while Vazquez was number three. France’s Mahyar Monshipour, formerly ranked number two, has been elevated to the number-one contender position, while Larios falls to number two.
Unfortunately, viewers who watched the Vazquez-Larios fight on HBO Pay Per View were not informed by the broadcast team that The Ring title was at stake. HBO’s inconstancy regarding The Ring’s championship policy is puzzling. I have spoken to both Jim Lampley and Larry Merchant numerous times, requesting that they acknowledge The Ring championship bouts when they are broadcast by HBO.
Both have repeatedly assured me that they would do just that, and Lampley even went so far as to apologize on air for failing to mention that The Ring light heavyweight belt was at stake during the broadcast of Antonio Tarver-Glen Johnson rematch. But neither Lampley nor Merchant told their viewers that The Ring belt was on the line in the Vazquez-Larios bout.
No need to apologize this time, Lamps. It has already become painfully obvious that the voices of the “Heart & Soul Of Boxing” have very short memories.
TAYLOR-HOPKINS & INSTANT KARMA (December 5, 2005)
By William Dettloff
For what it’s worth, I scored the Taylor-Hopkins fight for Taylor by a point. The judges gave it to him by two points. You could have had it by around the same margin for either guy and been in the ballpark, so anyone who gets all crazy claiming Hopkins was ripped off—and certainly some will—either lost money on the fight or isn’t being honest with himself. It was a close fight. It could have gone either way. It went to the younger, more energetic guy. It happens.
It’s the second time now that Hopkins dropped a close decision to Taylor in a fight that could reasonably have gone to him. You have to wonder why neither one went his way. Hopkins was a respected, long-reigning champion and a real credit to the sport: a great redemption story, no recent arrests, no wild parties or drug addictions, no reports of him clubbing bar patrons over the head with champagne bottles. Whatever happened to that tradition of giving old, respected champs a gift as they leave the game? Hasn’t anyone ever heard of Muhammad Ali W 15 Jimmy Young?
I can’t get into the heads of the judges who scored the fights for Taylor and it may be that all of them did the best they could and were wholly objective. Here’s a theory anyway: You don’t give a guy the benefit of the doubt when you don’t like him. And for about as long as I can remember, Hopkins has been going out of his way to be disliked.
Now, whether or not you’re liked in this business probably doesn’t matter much when you’re a 23-year-old powerpuncher who’s knocking everyone stiff with right hands. But it sure as hell matters when you’re a 40-year-old guy who can’t fight two minutes a round and you have to chip away at a younger, stronger guy and hope the judges appreciate your craftiness. If they like you, they’ll be patient. If not, it’s "screw you." That’s human nature. Ask Larry Holmes.
A lot of us dug it when Hopkins sued every promoter he had, one after the other. After all, promoters are the bad guys, right? And we cheered him on when he railed against the game’s structure that leaves the fighters at the bottom of the economic pile. But if you were listening and watching closely, you had to start wondering about him when he fired and then slandered Lou DiBella, and then fired long-time trainer and "father figure," Bouie Fisher.
I pretty much made up my mind about him after his win over Morrade Hakkar in March 2003. First, during a typically self-serving speech he gave at the postfight press conference, he likened himself to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. If that wasn’t tacky enough, he then made a big production out of donating a check to the widow of Steve Little, the one-time WBA super middleweight beltholder who had died of colon cancer. If you are as good as the act purports you to be, you give her the money and be quiet about it. Not Bernard.
Sometimes, these great iconoclastic rebels we love so much aren’t so much champions of the people. They’re just, well, jerks. And that’s okay. Lots of great fighters—indeed, many great men—have been jerks. But if you’re a jerk long enough, it’s going to come back to bite you in the ass. It’s inevitable. That’s the way the world works.
For Hopkins now to be hollering about being ripped off is like the guy who dyes his hair purple, pokes rings through every hole in his face because he wants to be "different," and then gets annoyed when people roll up the car window when he walks by. You can’t have it both ways. Hopkins is a smart guy. He should have known better.
Bill Dettloff’s book, Box Like The Pros, written with former heavyweight champion Joe Frazier, and published HarperCollins, is now on sale in bookstores throughout the U.S.A.
Bill can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.
SHANNON BRIGGS STILL TRAPPED (November 28, 2005)
By William Dettloff
Shannon Briggs knocked out low-rung journeyman Bryan Scott in Arkansas last Saturday night. The win will further encourage those who found reason to hope again in Briggs after he outlasted Ray Mercer last August. You can’t blame them really, the guys who are hoping Briggs does something this time around. The heavyweight division is a sad place these days—like I’m telling you something you don’t know.
Briggs, if he could get it together, would spice things up for all the same reasons he would have if he’d succeeded in his first incarnation, in the late-1990s: the personality, the intelligence, the look, the history. He had everything going for him that we like our heavyweight champions to have. Everything except the … what exactly?
I find Briggs endlessly interesting. He’s a guy who hits hard enough and is fast enough and athletic enough to obliterate guys who are at about a C-level or lower—Scott went down and out in the first, as have 26 of Briggs’ 38 knockout victims—but absolutely crashes and burns against anyone a level or a level-and-a-half higher.
Now, that’s not unusual; many, many fighters reach a certain level and can’t get past that level. Not everybody can be a champion (despite what our friends at the sanctioning bodies would have us believe). But Briggs’ case seems different, mainly because he’s so damn talented.
Take a look at The Ring’s heavyweight rankings and try to find a guy with better hand speed. You might be able to make a case for Chris Byrd and James Toney, two guys who not that long ago were middleweights. Try to find the guy who has better one-punch power than Briggs does. Maybe Sam Peter. Maybe Lamon Brewster. I’m not certain either hits harder with his right hand.
A cynic would say Briggs lacks two things: a chin and stamina. There’s nothing more to it than that. And he might be right. It was largely Briggs’ chin and wind that betrayed him when he crashed against Darryl Wilson all those years ago, and also after he threw a scare into Lennox Lewis. But both chin and stamina held up well against George Foreman, even if you thought, as I did, that Foreman deserved the decision. Both served him against Jameel McCline, unless you count the flash knockdown he suffered about midway through.
So what’s Briggs’ real problem? He doesn’t want to be a fighter. Not really. He goes through the motions; he goes to the gym, he runs, he spars occasionally. He skips rope. But when it comes down to it, he doesn’t want to fight. If he could find success in one of the areas his publicists used to tell us all he was dabbling in on the side—music, acting, broadcasting, etc.—he would bail on the fight game in a minute. Who wouldn’t?
But Briggs is stuck. We don’t think of professional athletes in that way, but prizefighting has given Briggs whatever measure of fame and money he has. Nothing else has done that for him. In a sense he’s more like an actor playing the part of a prizefighter. That’s why it looks the way it does when he gets in there with a guy who’s not acting the part, who’s deadly serious about it, whose purses feed his kids and pay the mortgage. It’s serious business. It doesn’t mean that much to Briggs.
Us slobs in the work-a-day world tend to believe that pro athletes do what they do because they love the competition and that all of them want, in equal measure, to win. It’s all about winning, about being the best.
But that’s not the way it is. Some of them do what they do because they’re trapped and can’t do anything else. So they go along for as long as they can, make as much scratch as they can, and then get out. It doesn’t matter how much talent they have if they’re not driven to do it. Talent alone gets them just so far, no further. That should be reassuring to the rest of us.
Bill Dettloff’s book, Box Like The Pros, written with former heavyweight champion Joe Frazier, and published HarperCollins, is now on sale in bookstores throughout the U.S.A.
Bill can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.
A FIGHT GAME THANKSGIVING (November 21, 2005)
By William Dettloff
I recently burned a Sunday afternoon watching heavyweight fights from the mid-’70s on ESPN Classic. How completely depressing. Afterward, I talked myself off the ledge by listing all the things about today’s game for which I am thankful. This column is the result. And what a coincidence! Thanksgiving comes this week. Amazing …
Here’s what I’m thankful for:
VITALI KLITSCHKO’S RETIREMENT: If you have to postpone a fight four times because you keep getting injured, you’re damn right it’s time you look for another line of work. The heavyweight division is bad enough without its champion getting ow-ies every other week. Good riddance. Call us when you’re healthy.
BOXREC.COM: A fight writer’s best friend.
NO FEDERAL BOXING COMMISSION: It’s not often I agree with the clowns in Washington, but the establishment of a federal boxing commission headed by some hand-picked political hack was a disaster narrowly averted.
FLOYD MAYWEATHER: I don’t know if he’s a good person. I don’t care. He’s a hell of a good prizefighter. That’s all I care about.
JOHN RUIZ & COMPANY: Every good soap opera needs two things: a villain to hate and comic relief. Ruiz and his team provide both on a regular basis.
SHANE MOSLEY: If it can all fall apart so quickly for him, imagine how easily it could for the rest of us poor slobs. Thanks, Shane.
THE COMEBACK OF DAVID TUA: If you don’t like watching Tua just to see when the hook is going to land and what happens when it does, you might want to try another sport. Fly-fishing is nice.
JAMEEL McCLINE: With a lot of hard work, sacrifice, and determination, you can suck a little less than you would have otherwise.
ESPN: It wasn’t long ago that everyone was whining that our friends in Bristol were abandoning the fight game. What do they do? Increase the number of shows for 2006 and buy The Contender. Keep whining.
ZAB JUDAH: His drunk-dance against Kostya Tszyu will just never get old.
DIEGO CORRALES: I don’t care about his spotty past or if he wins another fight. He’s got me for life. (Hey, write your own damn list.)
ROUND-CARD GIRLS IN THONGS: Nuff said.
JOE CALZAGHE: Every time I miss a deadline and feel guilty, I can say, “Hey, at least I didn’t back out altogether. I’m no Joe Calzaghe.”
DON KING: Everyone else in the business looks clean and honest in comparison.
WHATEVER IT IS THAT MAKES HUMAN SKIN STRETCH: If not for that, Gary Shaw would have exploded by now and covered us all in half-digested Ring-Dings.
LARRY MERCHANT: There’s no one in broadcasting better at what he does. No one.
THAT ULTIMATE FIGHTING REALITY SHOW ON SPIKE TV: For a while I worried Ultimate Fighting might become a real threat to boxing. Then I saw a couple of episodes. I don’t worry anymore.
CARLOS MAUSSA: Really ugly, awkward guys will always have a place in boxing.
Bill Dettloff’s book, Box Like The Pros, written with former heavyweight champion Joe Frazier, and published HarperCollins, is now on sale in bookstores throughout the U.S.A.
Bill can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.
STEVIE JOHNSTON & WHY SIZE ISN’T EVERYTHING (November 14, 2005)
By William Dettloff
When I was in grammar school, I couldn’t back down from a schoolyard fistfight fast enough. The funny thing was I hit a growth spurt in about the fifth grade that rendered me bigger than most of the kids in my class, but it did nothing for my courage. I still tiptoed around the bigger kids and thanked my lucky stars for the saps who mistook my marginally greater size for something meaningful and tiptoed around me. If only they knew.
One day during recess, I saw a bunch of kids gathered in a loose, fluid circle by the basketball courts. Everyone was yelling and whooping. I knew what that meant—there was a fight. I was all for a good playground scrap so long as it didn’t involve me, so I ran over to get a look.
There was a kid in my grade, about half my size, one of the smallest kids in the class, beating the hell out of a kid bigger than me who was a known loose cannon. I mean he was giving it to him. And not just wrestling like most fifth-graders do. He was tearing this big kid up with right hands, left hooks. And he looked like he was having fun. By the time a couple of teachers got in there and broke it up, the big kid was pretty well bloodied up. I was mesmerized.
I ended up becoming friends with this little guy who could fight. Despite having very little in common, we stayed friends all the way through high school and it wasn’t until years later that I realized why: Each of us wanted what the other had; he wanted to be bigger. I wanted to be fearless.
I haven’t talked to this guy in years and hadn’t thought of him until I saw that Stevie Johnston is scheduled to continue his comeback in December. Come on, you remember Johnston. It hasn’t been that long since he was maybe the best lightweight in the world, it only seems that way.
It was back in 1994 that Johnston broke out by beating up and stopping Sharmba Mitchell in nine rounds. Mitchell was bigger, stronger, and better connected, and Johnston boxed him, boxed him, and then took him out.
Two fights later there he was again on Tuesday Night Fights, chopping down Corey Johnson, who towered over him. That became the theme to Johnston’s career: outboxing, outlasting, and eventually just wearing down bigger, stronger guys who could fight.
Johnston’s diminutive stature meant he wouldn’t have many easy fights, and he didn’t. He never was a big puncher and that hurt him—against Cesar Bazan, whom I thought he beat in their first fight, and also against Jose Luis Castillo twice, and especially against Juan Lazcano. It would have hurt him too had he faced Shane Mosley at lightweight, but it would have been a wonderful fight nonetheless.
It hurt Johnston too that he stood still and took too many punches that he didn’t have to, and that he bled too easily. But he could fight. And he was fearless in there. Ask Castillo.
Fight fans have short memories and they forget that Johnston and Castillo fought on even terms over 24 rounds. The first ended in a majority decision for Castillo. The second was a draw. Either one could have been scored for Johnston without a lot of argument.
Now, here we are five years later and Castillo is on the pound-for-pound list and Johnston is still in comeback mode. Legal troubles have slowed Johnson down; he fought just once in 2002 and was out a full two years after the kayo loss to Lazcano.
I don’t know if Johnston can fight anymore. I didn’t see his win over durable trialhorse James Crayton in October, but I’ve read that he looked sharp. He’s only 33, but it’s got to be an old 33. If he can’t fight, I’d like for him to get out so he doesn’t get hurt. But if he can, what the hell? Little guys who are fearless are one of the world’s great pleasures.
Bill Dettloff’s book, Box Like The Pros, written with former heavyweight champion Joe Frazier, and published HarperCollins, is now on sale in bookstores throughout the U.S.A.
Bill can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.
KLITSCHKO’S RETIREMENT VACATES THE RING HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE
(November 9, 2005)
By Nigel Collins
It was far from the most glorious reign in heavyweight history, but Vitali Klitschko now has the opportunity to join Gene Tunney, Rocky Marciano, and Lennox Lewis as one of only four heavyweight champions to retire while still holding the belt and stay retired.
Jim Jeffries also retired as champ, but made an ill-advised comeback and lost to Jack Johnson. Joe Louis did likewise, retiring as champion and then failing to regain the title when he made a comeback. Whether Klitschko follows in the footsteps of Tunney, Marciano, and Lewis, or the route taken by Jeffries and Louis remains to be seen.
Klitschko’s sudden retirement caught most by surprise, as it was expected that he would rehab his knee and reschedule his defense against Hasim Rahman. But following surgery to repair the injury to his right knee, he decided that his body could no longer withstand the rigors of the professional prize ring.
Klitschko, 35-2 (34), could have stalled and held the title hostage for months, but instead he did what was best for him and boxing. And for the latter we should be grateful.
As of today, November 9, 2005, The Ring’s heavyweight title is vacant. In order to crown a new champion we will follow our established policy for filling title vacancies: a box-off between the number-one and number-two contenders, or in certain instances, a box-off between our number-one and number-three contenders.
JOHN RUIZ SINKS TO NEW LOW (November 7, 2005)
By William Dettloff
The news that John Ruiz is suing James Toney for $10-million is repugnant for so many reasons it’s hard to know where to begin.
For those of you who haven’t heard, Ruiz’ team issued a release last week that announced the lawsuit against Toney on the basis that Toney’s use of steroids before their fight in April “dramatically enhanced Toney’s ability to fight by artificially augmenting his strength, speed, and power. As a direct result of Toney’s doping, Ruiz lost a fight that he otherwise would not have lost and sustained physical injuries that he otherwise would not have sustained.” The release goes on to claim that Ruiz “incurred substantial financial damages as a result of initially losing a decision in a fight that he would have won had Toney not cheated.” Sigh.
Okay. First things first: I don’t know why Toney took Nandrolone, a known banned substance. His initial claim that he used it to treat the biceps injury he suffered against Rydell Booker seemed plausible enough, but his failure to appeal the WBA’s subsequent fine and title-fight suspension undermines his claim. Either way, this much is clear: He didn’t need steroids to beat Ruiz.
Anyone who saw the fight—or anyone who’s familiar with either guy—knows Toney won because he’s a better fighter than Ruiz is. A lot better. That’s all. Not because of any alleged improved speed or power. In fact, I don’t think Toney looked particularly fast or powerful that night; it wasn’t even one of his better recent performances. In my opinion, he looked much faster and stronger against Dominick Guinn.
Let’s be blunt: Toney could train on a daily diet of prostitutes and heroin and still take eight of 12 rounds against Ruiz. To assert he’d have lost to Ruiz if not for the steroids is insulting to anyone with a working set of eyes.
Next, if I didn’t know better, I’d think Ruiz’ aim is to be the most hated prizefighter in the game. There’s no other explanation for the things he does. And I’m not even talking about his longtime association with Norm Stone, his manager, who is perhaps the single most abrasive person in this business. And that’s saying something.
Back when many in the press first started suggesting that Ruiz’ high ranking by the organizations was primarily the result of Don King pulling strings, his defense was that his critics must not like Puerto Ricans. When Roy Jones undressed him over 12 rounds and won the WBA heavyweight title, he blamed referee Jay Nady for not letting him fight “his fight.” (Which, incidentally, would lead to his disqualification every time out if the rules were strictly enforced.) And when fans boo his continual mauling and clinching, Ruiz shrugs. What does he care?
I give Ruiz credit. He’s a tough guy and a determined one who’s gotten everything there is to get out of his meager abilities. Never has a fighter done as much with so little. But this lawsuit is possibly the most un-fighterly thing I’ve ever seen a prizefighter do, and that includes Andrew Golota running out of the ring to get away from Mike Tyson. I don’t care if Toney “cheated.” A real fighter in Ruiz’ position would dare Toney to face him again—clean. That’s not what Ruiz is doing. He’s sicking his lawyer on him.
Try to imagine Jack Dempsey suing Gene Tunney over the long count. Or George Foreman suing Muhammad Ali because the ropes were loose. Hell, Tyson bit off a piece of Evander Holyfield’s ear. Holyfield stood in there and fought him. Ruiz gets outboxed for all 12 rounds, gets the break of a lifetime when Toney comes up dirty, and then sues him. Unbelievable. He should be thanking Toney for saving his career.
Ruiz claims one of the reasons he filed the lawsuit is to force the boxing industry to take a harder stand against guys who take steroids. Whatever. It looks to me like a guy who knows he’s got no business being where he is getting what he can because he knows he won’t be in a position too much longer. If you ask me, that day can’t come fast enough.
Bill Dettloff’s book, Box Like The Pros, written with former heavyweight champion Joe Frazier, and published by HarperCollins, is now on sale in bookstores throughout the U.S.A.
Bill can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.
WINKY DOES THE “WRIGHT” THING:
VACATES THE RING JUNIOR MIDDLEWEIGHT TITLE (November 7, 2005)
By Nigel Collins
Winky Wright has officially relinquished The Ring junior middleweight championship that he won by beating Shane Mosley on March 13, 2004. He made one successful defense, outpointing Mosley again on November 20, 2004.
In the immediate aftermath of his middleweight victory over Felix Trinidad on May 14, 2005, Wright told The Ring that he intended to drop back down to 154-pound to defend his junior middleweight belt. Therefore, we continued to recognize him as the junior middleweight champion and also installed him as the number-two middleweight contender. But when Wright signed to fight Sam Soliman in another middleweight bout, on December 10, we spoke to him again.
Wright told The Ring that he was unable to garner a lucrative bout at junior middleweight, and although he would love to retain The Ring’s recognition as junior middleweight champion, he understood that it would be unfair to the 154-pound contenders to keep the title but not to defend it.
It was another example of a fighter doing the honorable thing. A similar circumstance arose when Paulie Ayala held The Ring junior featherweight title. Unable to obtain meaningful matches at 122 pounds, he moved up to featherweight and vacated The Ring title. That particular vacancy will be filled when number-one contender Oscar Larios faces number-three contender Israel Vazquez on December 3.
Both Wright and Ayala demonstrated that boxers do not need an alphabet organization telling them what to do. When the appropriate time came, they simply did what was right for both themselves and the sport. That’s the way The Ring’s championship policy is supposed to work.
THE BOXING WOUNDED & IMPERFECT SOLUTIONS (November 1, 2005)
By William Dettloff
Last weekend Lenord Pierre stopped Tony Marshall in the seventh round in Albany. You remember Marshall. He was a very serviceable junior middleweight contender throughout the 1990s. Real good chin, always showed up in shape, always fought hard.
The loss to Pierre was the third in Marshall’s last four fights, the sixth in his last nine. He’s 35 now, has been in this business 16 hard years. He’s lost 16 times, but only been stopped on three occasions—his last three losses. When a guy who always went the distance starts getting knocked out, you know he’s getting to a dangerous place.
Of course, there are other guys like Marshall, the boxing wounded, who shouldn’t be fighting anymore and are getting into perilous territory. There will always be others.
Regular readers of this column know my position on banning fighters, especially those who pass the required medical tests: You have to let them fight. If a fighter can pass all his medicals and be banned anyway, what’s the point of testing in the first place? Just ban anyone who looks like he might be going bad. And if you’re a fighter who’s over 35, heaven help you if you have an off-night or ticked off the wrong suit.
You’d think there has to be some solution. But I gave up a long time ago seeking perfect solutions to hard questions. They don’t exist. But I reserve hope that through the work of good and smart people, imperfect solutions can be found every once in a while. I’ve seen it happen.
Back in the 1980s, when I was a middleweight Golden Glover in New Jersey, a guy came into our gym one night and told my trainer he wanted to get ready for the upcoming Gloves competition. Irish guy from Ohio. In his mid-20s—older than most of the rest of us. He’d had about a dozen fights, he said, which meant that if he fought in the Gloves, he’d have to fight in the Open class, which is for guys with more than 10 fights. Most of us were entering the Novice class.
The problem was this guy couldn’t fight. Not even a little. The first time he sparred we saw it: He was slow, couldn’t punch at all, and didn’t move his head an inch in any direction. He’d have had a hard time getting into the second round of the novice competition. He’d get massacred against guys who knew what they were doing. And in the Open class he might draw a guy who’d fought 200 times.
In the couple of months before the Gloves started, we got to know him. He was a humble, likable guy. His dad had been a fighter, and his dad before him. The last two gyms he fought out of in Ohio kicked him out and told him not to fight anymore. When he came to Jersey to look for work, he knew he’d find a gym and enter the Gloves. It was in his blood, he said.
After a couple of weeks, my trainer, a perceptive, compassionate guy, tried to talk him out of entering the competition. When that didn’t work, he had a couple guys in the gym open up on him during sparring. Really work him over, give him some tough love. That didn’t work either.
On the first night of the competition, we all arrived together to get our physicals. This guy went in to see the doctor and came out after just a couple of minutes. He told us the doctor said he had a heart murmur and absolutely couldn’t ever fight again. And that was it. Surprisingly, he wasn’t the least despondent. On the contrary, he looked relieved. I never saw him after that night, at the gym or at any fight card.
I found out later that my trainer had talked to the doctor beforehand and asked him to “find something.” The good doctor did as he was asked. There are no perfect solutions to hard questions. But there are imperfect ones. Those work too, sometimes. You just need to have the right people looking for them.
MISSING GEORGE
This is a little late, but I have to get it in. I attended the Wladimir Klitschko-Sam Peter card in Atlantic City a few weeks ago, so I didn’t see the HBO broadcast of the card until recently. Watching it made me realize how much I miss George Foreman’s commentary.
Shake your head all you want. After HBO’s translator picked up Ricardo Torres’ corner telling him to play it up if Cotto hit him low, the always-astute Jim Lampley observed, very reasonably it seemed at the time, that the strategy “made some sense.” Foreman, who was back on HBO as a guest broadcaster, replied, “It only makes sense if you have no dignity.” A couple of beats later Lampley agreed, as I suddenly did too. Foreman has a way of making important things very clear with very few words.
Unlike many of my colleagues, I never minded Foreman’s frequently bizarre analyses and non-sequiturs because I always knew there would be at least a moment or two along the way when he would break through with a piece of insight that was so sharp and so perfect that I felt humbled listening to him. I miss that.
Bill Dettloff’s book, Box Like The Pros, written with former heavyweight champion Joe Frazier, will be published by HarperCollins in November.
Bill can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.
SHARMBA MITCHELL: SHOT OR JUST RELOADING? (October 24, 2005)
By William Dettloff
That rattling noise you hear is the fight world shaking its collective head in response to the announcement that Floyd Mayweather will be facing, as rumored, none other than Sharmba Mitchell on November 19 in the unlikely setting of Portland, Oregon.
Why is everyone so disgruntled? That’s easy. Mitchell is washed-up, in fight parlance. Done. Shot. Finished. Over the hill. Past his best days. Ridden hard and put away dirty. Use whatever cliche you want, the consensus is that it’s a mismatch not just because Mayweather is a fighting genius, but also, to make matters worse, because Mitchell isn’t any good anymore.
Maybe it’s true. My question is how do you know?
What has Mitchell done to give everyone the impression he’s shot? Gotten knocked out by Kostya Tszyu? Since when is that a crime? Tszyu was one of the best punchers in the world. He probably still is. Getting stopped in three rounds by one of the best punchers in the business is proof of nothing more than you got hit on the jaw.
You’ll remember too that just before Tszyu got old and washed-up himself against Ricky Hatton, he was among the top-rated guys in the world, pound-for-pound, having inched up a notch or two based on his win over the very same Mitchell, who now, two years later, evidently qualifies for AARP membership.
Many of the guys who are calling Mitchell washed-up picked him to beat Tszyu. Remember, going into the rematch he’d won eight straight against pretty good, competent guys. He was active, sharp, and gave every indication he’d give Tszyu the same trouble he did in their first fight.
It didn’t work out. He got caught. That means he’s shot? No, he didn’t look great against Chris Smith last time out either. Big deal. He was coming off a knockout loss and got the win over a pretty decent prospect.
I don’t own any stock in Mitchell. Frankly, he’s never been among my favorite fighters to watch. But how many times have we all called a guy “shot” when it turned out he just got beat by a better fighter, or by one whose style he couldn’t deal with? How many times did you read that Marco Antonio Barrera was shot right after Manny Pacquiao beat him? He was supposed to be shot after Junior Jones beat him too. And that’s only one example. I’ll bet you can think of a five or six others without trying hard.
A guy doesn’t even have to lose to get the shot label. People are calling Antonio Tarver over the hill because he looked fairly ordinary last time out scraping by Roy Jones. This after he convincingly outhustled and outpunched a very tough and energetic Glen Johnson in his previous fight. One so-so performance and you’re over the hill?
Fighters are just like the rest of us. They have bad days at work just like we do, and it sometimes has nothing to do with being washed-up. Maybe a guy has an argument with his girlfriend before the fight. Maybe he has a sore hand or a bad back. Maybe he’s ticked off at his manager or trainer. Maybe he thinks he should be getting more money. Maybe the fight comes and he’s just not in the mood. It happens. Next time it doesn’t.
We’re in such a rush all the time to anoint this guy and get rid of that one. A guy wins a big fight and he’s the next big star. He loses one and he’s washed-up. But so much of who wins and who loses is about styles and about other things—not about whether a guy is done as a fighter.
Look, I’m not thrilled with this match either. I’d much rather see Mayweather fight Zab Judah for instance, a match I examine and lobby for in the The Ring Double, Vol. 6, 2005 (available at newsstands until January 10). If not Judah, then Antonio Margarito or Vivian Harris (yes, even after the loss to Maussa), or even Tszyu. How about Shane Mosley? There are all kinds of interesting fights out there for Mayweather.
But they picked Mitchell, a fast, smart, experienced southpaw. There are easier styles you could pick if you’re trying to protect your guy. Sure, Mayweather probably will win, but not necessarily because Mitchell is shot. But because he’s the better fighter. Most of the time that’s all it takes.
Bill Dettloff’s book, Box Like The Pros, written with former heavyweight champion Joe Frazier, will be published by HarperCollins in November.
Bill can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.
BOXING IMMORAL? WHAT’S YOUR POINT? (October 17, 2005)
By William Dettloff
Big news out of Rome last week: Boxing is immoral.
That’s right. According to an article that appeared in Civilta Cattolica, a Jesuit journal approved by the Vatican, professional boxing “is manipulated by powerful economic groups, which are often ruthless and cruel, and for whom the boxer is not a man but only a machine to make money.” The article also cited the sport’s violent nature and concluded, “From a moral point of view the judgment of boxing can only be gravely and absolutely negative.”
Okay. And the point is?
Look, I’m not saying the fight game doesn’t have problems, or that things couldn’t be handled better in a lot of areas. Much better. But let’s face it: This is a business that’s run by people. People have a habit of mucking things up and screwing over who ever they can to get what they want. People in the fight game are no different.
Promoters screw the fighters. And the fans. Managers screw the promoters and vice versa. The fighters, who are generally at the bottom of the economic heap even though they’re the ones getting their brains knocked around, screw the people they can too.
How many times have you read about the fighter who fires his life-long trainer the minute he starts making money, or as soon as he loses? How about the mid-level promoter who mortgages his house three times to sponsor and groom a kid all through the early stages of his career and then watches helplessly as the kid signs with a big gun when he’s about to break out?
Sure the business of boxing is dirty. It always has been and always will be. But look around you. Read a newspaper. Business is dirty. Any business. If you work for a big company, you’re there to make that company money. (If the company you work for is small, they’re trying to get big.) You’re the machine just as the fighter is, making someone else money, and the minute you can’t do that anymore, you’ll be gone. Just like in the fight game.
Is that good or bad? Immoral? I don’t know. But it’s the way the world works. Not just the boxing world.
There’s this too: The fight game is full of good people. You’ll never read or hear about them, because they’re not as exciting or as interesting as their ordinary counterparts. But if you’ve been in the business, you know them. They’re the amateur coaches who give their nights and weekends to kids and drive their young fighters all over the country to this or that show.
Most of the time the kids are kids who need someone, who need direction and stability and something they can be good at and proud of. And those coaches never make a dime out of it. In fact, they lose money. Sometimes they lose more than that.
The vast majority of the kids who walk into a gym will never turn pro, forget about making any money. That doesn’t matter to the coaches. Sure, they all would like to see the next Mike Tyson walk through their door. Who wouldn’t want to win the lottery? But they know it’s not going to happen. They do what they do anyway.
You’ll never read or hear about all the kids who got their lives turned around or saved by boxing and the people in it, but they’re out there. They just needed to find something they were good at, something to get them out of bed in the morning or to keep them off the streets or out of jail. You’ll never know them because boxing did that for them. They can’t all be champions.
But some of them you will know. You know them already. As crazy as Tyson is, where do you think he would be if not for boxing? Or Johnny Tapia? Where would Bernard Hopkins be now if not for this immoral business, or George Foreman, or Floyd Patterson? What would Rocky Graziano have done with his life, or Jake LaMotta? Do you believe that if boxing didn’t exist, we would have been introduced in some other way to Muhammad Ali? Or Felix Trinidad? Or Julio Cesar Chavez? Or Sugar Ray Robinson?
We’re so used to hearing about how terrible this little sport of ours is that we forget the good. Is it immoral? Maybe so. Depends on your definition, I guess. And what you’re willing to accept. For all the good it’s done, I can accept the fight game. It’s not even close.
Bill Dettloff’s book, Box Like The Pros, written with former heavyweight champion Joe Frazier, will be published by HarperCollins in November.
Bill can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.
WHO’S AFRAID OF A LITTLE CONTROVERSY? (October 10, 2005)
By William Dettloff
Maybe you were wondering after watching Jose Luis Castillo knock out of Diego Corrales on Saturday why we can never just get a good fight anymore without there being some kind of “controversy” attached to it. I’m talking about Castillo’s failure to make 135 pounds, of course, and the edge that may have given him when the fight went ahead anyway.
Last time these two fought, it was Corrales spitting out his mouthpiece in the 10th round that had everyone in Castillo’s corner up in arms.
That mouthpiece incident tainted the first fight for a lot of fans. The weight issue will no doubt do the same for this fight. Not for me, though. I couldn’t care less. In fact, I dig the hullabaloo. The more the better. Controversy, provided it’s not fatal, keeps this business humming along.
I don’t mean something that directly causes the wrong guy to win, or that irrefutably keeps the right guy from winning. I’m not talking about Eugenia Williams-level controversy. I’m talking about something that potentially causes the wrong guy to win. The kind that possibly keeps the right guy from winning. The kind we can never know for certain either way. That kind of controversy is good for everybody.
Corrales’ mouthpiece ploy in the first fight helped sell the rematch. While it’s true that this rematch didn’t really need selling, the possibility that the extra time Corrales got changed the outcome made the return that much more intriguing.
Do we know for sure that Corrales benefited? Not really. I tend to think that if a fighter has the presence of mind to spit out his mouthpiece to get some time, he’s not that badly hurt. If he were, he wouldn’t be thinking, “What can I do to get some time here?” But maybe I’m wrong.
Likewise, we will go into the rubber match wondering how much difference the weight really made. Was Castillo so much stronger because he didn’t get all the way down to 135? And how much stronger would Corrales have been if he hadn’t, either? Maybe it made no difference. They were about the same weight when they got into the ring.
But maybe it did. We don’t know. And if not for the potential that it did, one might have a harder time selling the possibility of a win for Corrales next time. The weight issue keeps him in the running.
Sure, maybe you buy the rubber match anyway in the hope that it’s a great fight like the first one was. But the real hook is that Corrales could win again, all things being equal. And the issue with the weight makes that possibility much easier to sell.
Here’s another reason I don’t get all bent out of shape when controversies like this pop up in otherwise wonderful fights: In a few years no one remembers them. The fights themselves overshadow any ancillary arguments.
Who remembers, for example, that if not for a questionable point deduction and then some questionable scoring, Arturo Gatti would have decisioned Micky Ward in their first fight and probably prevented the sequels? It was a big deal for about 10 minutes. Then all anyone cared about was how great the fight was. That’s how it should be.
So don’t sweat the little controversies. They’re good for business. And they work themselves out eventually. By the time Castillo and Corrales get done with one another, we’ll know for sure who the better fighter is. We just have to be patient. And if we never do, that’ll be all right too. We’ll have had fun trying to figure it out.
Bill Dettloff’s book, Box Like The Pros, written with former heavyweight champion Joe Frazier, will be published by HarperCollins in November.
Bill can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.
THE RING CHAMPIONSHIP POLICY PROGRESS REPORT (October 4, 2005)
By Nigel Collins
Not only will The Ring’s middleweight title be at stake when champion Jermain Taylor defends against ex-champ Bernard Hopkins on December 3, The Ring’s vacant junior featherweight title will also be up for grabs when Oscar Larios and Israel Vazquez meet in a rubber match on the same card.
As Larios is The Ring’s number-one contender and Vazquez is rated number three, the match meets our championship policy criteria for filling a vacancy. While in a perfect world a box-off between Larios and number-two contender Mahyar Minshipour would have been preferable, The Ring feels that the difference between Vazquez and Monshipour’s qualifications was so insignificant, Vazquez’ bout with Larios was a good opportunity to fill a vacancy that has existed since Paulie Ayala relinquished The Ring 122-pound belt in May 2004.
While Monshipour has been slightly more active the past few years, Vazquez’ opposition has generally been slightly superior. Since being stopped by Larios in the 12th round of their May 2002 bout, Vazquez has won six in a row, including a fifth-round TKO of previously undefeated Art Simonian, a 12th-round TKO of Jose Luis Valbueno, and a 12-round unanimous decision over Armando Guerrero. In his first bout with Larios, in 1997, Vazquez scored a one-round knockout.
Providing the Larios-Vazquez bout does not end in a draw, a no-contest, or a no-decision, the winner will join Vitali Klitschko (heavyweight), Jean-Marc Mormeck (cruiserweight) Antonio Tarver (light heavyweight), Jermain Taylor (middleweight), Winky Wright (junior middleweight), Zab Judah (welterweight), Ricky Hatton (junior middleweight), and Diego Corrales (lightweight) as current Ring champions.
The above list is a pretty good indication of the progress The Ring has made in its campaign to restore integrity to championship boxing. Even so, we still have a lot of work ahead of us, especially when it comes to the mainstream media. A quick glance at the coverage of Antonio Tarver’s successful defense of The Ring light heavyweight title against Roy Jones emphasizes this point.
The Boston Globe, New York Post, Miami Herald, Philadelphia Daily News, Tampa Tribune, Lakeland (Florida) Ledger, and Reuters all chose to ignore The Ring belt and identify Tarver-Jones III as being for the IBO light heavyweight title. Now as far as I know, the International Boxing Organization has never been involved in the sort of scandal that has tainted the more prominent alphabet organizations. But how much credence should be afforded a governing body that recognizes Raymon Joval as the world middleweight champion, Jawaid Khaliq as welterweight champ, and Mihaly Kotai as junior middleweight champ?
Thankfully, not all of the media has the blinders on. John C. Cotey of the St. Petersburg Times wrote, “Tarver, 36, successfully defended his IBO title, but more important retained his status as the undisputed Ring magazine champ.” George Diaz of the Orlando Sentinel also got it right, as did Dan Rafael of espn.com.
Every day The Ring receives letters, e-mails, and phone calls from boxing consumers—the very people who finance the entire industry—in support of our championship policy. The bulk of the mainstream media, however, risks losing what little credibility they still have by continuing to ignore fans’ growing dissatisfaction with the corrupt system now in place and the righteous alternative The Ring has offered.
10 REASONS TO LOVE JAMES TONEY (October 3, 2005)
By William Dettloff
James Toney’s win over Dominic Guinn Saturday night would be easy to dismiss if the Guinn that had shown up was the same one who had shown up against Friday Ahunanya, Monte Barrett, and Serguei Lyakhovich. But that wasn’t the Guinn Toney schooled. This Guinn was in shape and focused and he let his hands go. And Toney took him apart.
But maybe I’m biased. I love Toney. You should too. Here are 10 good reasons:
1. The dinosaur factor: Every time one of these old school dinosaurs spits at you that there hasn’t been a fighter worth a damn that was born after World War II, you can say: ‘Ha! James Toney!’” Toney does everything we see Jersey Joe Walcott do on those old films, and Harold Johnson and Ezzard Charles. In terms of skill, he’s right there with those guys. So maybe they could turn down a tray of cheese blintzes where Toney can’t. Big deal. Move for move, he’s right there.
2. It doesn’t matter how fat he gets: Toney gave himself a “B-” after the Guinn fight because he said he was too heavy at 235. Too heavy for what? He won almost every round. Sure he looked like a cross between the Addams Family’s Uncle Fester and Cedric the Entertainer. So what. He went 12 hard rounds with a big, young, strong heavyweight and beat him up. I say let’s have some fun with this. Let him go up to 260, 270. And pass the Cheese Wiz.
3. The counter right: I could watch him land it all night. It’s a beautiful thing.
4. The comeback: Sure, you dig Toney now, but where were you five or six years ago when he was babbling almost incoherently about getting a rematch with Roy Jones while struggling to decision Terry McGroom? How many of you thought he had become boxing’s version of Marlon Brando—a tortured, solitary genius, wasting his gifts and plying his various neuroses with scores of hot fudge Sundays and cheese Danish. Okay, I did too. And look at him now.
5. He can’t really be only 37, can he?: When Toney turned pro, Roseanne was a top-rated television show. George W. Bush was still a drunk and his daddy was President. Eddie Murphy was still funny. Michael Jackson was still a black guy, more or less. And people still went to the library, not Google, to find stuff out. Guys Toney beat—Michael Nunn, Iran Barkley, Doug DeWitt—are all long, long gone. And he’s a top-rated heavyweight contender. That’s called longevity and it gets you into the Hall of Fame and then some.
6. The trunks: Toney wears the biggest, baggiest boxing trunks I’ve ever seen a fighter wear. You could cover the whole of Rhode Island with those things. I’m not entirely sure why I like that, but I do.
7. The beard: Raise your hand if you’ve ever seen Toney really hurt in a fight. Me neither.
8. The postfight interviews: Now that Mike Tyson is gone, Toney will take his place as the best postfight interview in the business. But whereas Tyson was a 10 on the unintentionally funny scale, Toney goes out of his way to be entertaining. If you remember him looking into the camera a few years ago and telling Don King to kiss his ass, you know what I’m talking about.
9. The trash talk: Toney’s smack isn’t as crude as Ricardo Mayorga’s, as evil as Floyd Mayweather’s, or as self-serving as Bernard Hopkins’. He’s taken the art to hilarious new levels. All you’ve got to do is a stick a microphone in his face and let him go.
10. He’s doing exactly what he should be doing: There’s not another thing in the world that Toney would rather be doing. That’s another way of saying he’s all fighter. He doesn’t talk about quitting after another fight or two. He’s not trying to get into broadcasting or acting. He doesn’t cut rap records or farm chickens or get his Ph.D. He fights. He loves it. It shows.
Bill Dettloff’s book, Box Like The Pros, written with former heavyweight champion Joe Frazier, will be published by HarperCollins in November.
Bill can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.
CORRALES VS. CASTILLO II: EXPERTS’ PICKS (October 3, 2005)
NIGEL COLLINS (The Ring editor-in-chief): “With the Leavander Johnson tragedy so fresh in everybody’s mind, it wouldn’t surprise me if the referee will be quicker to stop it this time. Therefore, the fighter who gets off to the fastest start could have a major advantage. And as Castillo is more of a grind-’em-down type, most likely it will be Corrales getting the benefit if the ref does indeed get an itchy trigger finger. So my pick is Corrales via premature TKO.”
JOE SANTOLIQUITO (The Ring managing editor): “I like Corrales winning again, though by decision. I just can’t see either of these fighters taking the kinds of risks they took in their first fight. With all rematches of great fights, we yearn so much to see a recreation of the original that any sporadic moments of fury will immediately force fans and the media to start comparing. But I’m afraid all we’ll see this time is a mirage, hoping and looking for any link that connects this rematch with the special dance these guys performed the first time. History says so, from Ali-Frazier II to Gatti-Ward II.”
ERIC RASKIN (The Ring contributing editor): I'm not even going to begin to speculate on whom the first fight took more out of, but the fact that one or both guys could come into the rematch as spent bullets does make it really difficult to predict the outcome. Still, if I have to pick, I'm saying Corrales on points. He's the more versatile fighter. He fought Castillo's fight the first time around and still found a way to win, so if he fights his own fight—using distance and boxing behind his jab a bit more—he should be able to win a little bit more comfortably."
RON BORGES (Boston Globe boxing writer): “It can’t be any better than the first fight; it’s impossible. The thing that always worries me about great fights is that the rematch is not often that good, because the two fighters aren’t as willing to take the punishment they did the first time. The first time, you don’t know what the cost will be. A lot of times both guys become more cautious. If they’re not more cautious, they’ll need CATscans. The problem with Castillo is that Corrales can take what he dishes out. He’s apparently able to recover quicker that Castillo. It’s a tough fight to pick, but I think Corrales will stop Castillo again. These guys wouldn’t fight for a decision if they fought 100 times.”
CALVIN WATKINS (Dallas Morning News boxing writer): “No great fight usually follows with a great sequel. You have to wonder whether or not these guys want to go through the physical pain of the first one. They may come into this very cautious. ‘Chico’ came out of that first one pretty beat up, and he was the one who won. Castillo thought he was winning the first one, until Corrales caught him in the 10th round. I think Castillo will be a little worried about facing that punch and that will enable him to win the rematch.”
ROBERT MORALES (Los Angeles Daily News boxing writer):
“I think it will be another absolutely brutal fight, because they can’t fight any differently. Corrales has tremendous courage, and Castillo’s almost-equal courage and tremendous pride is a combination that will make for another tremendous fight. Often the rematch doesn’t live up to the first fight, but this one could come close. The first fight was the most brutal, tremendous fight I’ve ever seen in 12 years as a boxing writer. I went with Corrales the first time and I’ll go with Corrales again. I see another late-round TKO by Corrales.”
MAX KELLERMAN (HBO boxing analyst): “I like Corrales, and I like him a little more dominantly this time. I think Corrales will knock him out a round earlier. I think it’s going to be a great fight and this will define both of their legacies, but it’s obviously a health hazard. For the rest of us, thankfully, they decided to put their lives on the line and created the best drama any sport has seen in many years.”
DAN RAFAEL (ESPN.com boxing writer): “It can’t be as good as the first fight, but the second fight can still be another great fight. To me, it’s a toss-up fight. If Corrales decides to box just a little more, or box at all, he can win the fight and make it a lot easier than the first one. Corrales is the one capable of changing his style, not Castillo. It’s up to Corrales how the fight will go. If I had to pick a winner, I’ll take Corrales reluctantly, by a decision.”
ROCK ALLEN (former United States Olympian): “Their first fight was the most exciting fight I ever saw, from the first bell. It was pure action, just punches from all over. Castillo got caught and caught at the worst end, so I have to go with Corrales with this one. He’s a big 135, and when he makes the fight, he’s proved to be strong. I really can’t see these guys doing too much boxing. I see this being a replay of the first time, and Castillo has something to prove. This might not last as long as the first one.”
LEM SATTERFIELD (Baltimore Sun boxing writer): “I think Corrales will win, even though he says that he’ll brawl. He likes the action. Of the two fighters, I believe Castillo absorbs punishment better. So Corrales would be better suited to employ more boxing this time. It may not be a way to make the fight more exciting, but it is a way to make the fight a little easier for him. The same way that Arturo Gatti had to back off his brawling style after the three Micky Ward fights, Corrales could be better served by working behind his jab, particularly against a warrior like Castillo. Corrales boxed more in his rematch with Joel Casamayor, and he’ll use those same tactics this time to win by decision.”
LARRY MERCHANT (HBO ringside color analyst): “Having proven his manhood in the first fight, I expect that Corrales will get a better fitting mouthpiece and fight a smarter fight in the rematch. He will try to use his height to a better advantage, because whenever he used it in the first fight, it was a much easier fight for him. I think Corrales by decision, but the burden of proof is on him to see if he can withstand prosperity.”
KINGSLEY IKEKE (middleweight contender): “This time Corrales is going to put the fight away right away. He’s going to work it the right way and work to take Castillo out this time. He’s hard working and boxing goes like that. This will be quicker and he’ll do things the smart way.”
GARY GITTLESOHN (boxing manager): “I don’t think this fight will come close to the first one. They’re both wary of what they went through the first time, and it’s only natural that neither one relishes the opportunity to go through it again. They may not know any other way to fight than the way they went at each other the first time. But neither guy will want to engage in the same kind of fight that they did the first time. I sway toward Castillo. I think he’s a more durable fighter, Corrales the stronger puncher. I chose the more durable fighter in this contest by decision.”
BERNARD FERNANDEZ (Philadelphia Daily News boxing writer): “I picked Castillo the last time and it was a shaky selection because I knew the matchup was so tight, and the actual fight was as close on paper. Castillo maybe should have won and could have won, but I figure I’ll go to the well again and go with Castillo. I see it as a late-round stoppage, because I can’t see these guys going 12 rounds.”
JOEY GILBERT (middleweight from The Contender show): “I don’t know if they can out-do the first one. Those two almost killed each other. The expectations placed on this fight will be there again. People expect them to come in and do the same thing, but in this situation you’re dealing with two experienced, intelligent fighters, and that being said, they may not make this an absolute war. It’ll still be an explosive fight, but you’re dealing with two veterans who both know they hurt each other. They won’t trade blindly this time. I would have to say, based on Chico’s ability to adapt and customize his fight plan and strategy, I think he pulls this out by late-round stoppage.”
CHUCK JOHNSON (USA Today boxing writer): “I didn’t think there would be a rematch after watching that first fight. Both parties realized they spent themselves, but I foresee another fight just like it. Neither of those guys will back down and they showed they could damage each other. I see the same type of brutal battle. Castillo, on my scorecard, was winning that fight the time of the stoppage. It could be a stoppage again. There’s no telling what can happen, but I say Castillo this time.”
CARLOS ARIAS (Orange County Register boxing writer): “I liked Corrales in the first fight, and you know that Corrales has the ability to dig down, after being knocked down and finding something within him to pull out a victory. We saw that Castillo had that same ability himself. Not only can Corrales punch, he can box. Castillo has the one style, where he wears you down during the course of a fight and takes you out in the end. Corrales’ added dimension gives him the edge. There is no way this goes the distance. Once the punches start flying, they won’t go away. This will be a late-round stoppage again for Corrales.”
DON STEINBERG (Philadelphia Inquirer boxing writer): “Both guys will train for what beat them the first time. I like Corrales. He got caught a couple of times in that crazy 10th round and he still won. All his training is going to be aimed at boxing more, and not letting that happen again. After that, it’s almost hard to picture him losing.”
BRIAN KENNY (ESPN2 Friday Night Fights studio host): “I think the authorities should step in and stop this fight, because having been there and seen it, these two guys shouldn’t fight again. It’s going to harm one of them, if not both of them, but I think Corrales will step back a bit and fight a little more on the outside. Eventually, they’re going to get into each other’s grill and decide it like men. If I have to pick someone, I’d go with Corrales. I think he’s more likely to win on points.”
ROB MURRAY (radio host of This Week In Boxing on Philadelphia’s 900 AM WURD): “Very seldom do you see rematches of fights like that equaling what happened in the first fight. This has the makings of being that type of fight. This can be a smaller, more sophisticated version of Gatti-Ward. Corrales will be able to draw Castillo into a real grudge fight. This will probably turn into a trilogy, even though I pick Corrales to stop Castillo again.”
KEITH IDEC (Herald News of New Jersey boxing writer): “I think they should leave well enough alone and not do it. They can’t do the first fight justice. But Corrales is always better and smarter in rematches, and he might not try to make this fight so difficult on himself early as he did in the first fight. If Corrales boxes Castillo and fights from a safer distance, he should be able to outpoint Castillo without going through that excruciating pain again. I see Corrales winning by unanimous decision.”
BERNARDO OSUNA (Solo Boxeo broadcaster): “I love the rematch and I think it’s the right thing to do for boxing. This will really help boxing out. Castillo, I think, can win this time, because he had the fight won last time and made a miscalculation. This will be the same type of brawl. Castillo will be more of a defensive fighter and Corrales will be working on his defense as well, but their basic instinct will make them fight the same way they did the first time. Corrales can change things up a little more, but for Castillo, he’s looking for redemption. In the end, Castillo gained more by losing and I see him winning by stoppage.”
TONY PAIGE (radio host for New York’s WFAN 660 AM): “Whatever they want to pay for this one, it’s worth it. Even if they put on half the fight they did the first time, it’s a Fight of the Year candidate. The first fight was Hagler-Hearns stretched out over 10 rounds. I lean toward Castillo because he made one mistake and paid for it, while Corrales made a bunch. I’ll say Castillo by decision.”
TARVER-JONES III PREVIEW: IT WON’T BE CLOSE (September 29, 2005)
By Joe Santoliquito
We all winced and cringed a little the last time we saw Roy Jones in the ring, stuck to the canvas and stiff as a board, compliments of Glen Johnson’s right hand. We winced and cringed a little more when Jones announced his first comeback fight, after two consecutive knockout losses, would be against light heavyweight champion Antonio Tarver, the same man who planted Jones the first time.
You may not be able to help yourself from averting your eyes when Tarver and Jones meet for the third time, this Saturday on HBO Pay-Per-View, live from the St. Petersburg Times Forum, in Tampa, Florida.
Jones was once a fighter capable of shredding anyone in his path. Now he’s been reduced to a sympathetic figure. Many watching Saturday’s fight will be genuinely concerned about his welfare.
Some speculate that because Jones, 49-3 (38), will have his father in his corner for the first time in more than 15 years, it will make a difference. That’s highly doubtful.
Remember, Tarver, 23-3 (18), needed just two rounds to stop the Pensacola, Florida, native on May 15, 2004. Moreover, Johnson dominated Jones for eight rounds before finishing him in the ninth on September 25, 2004. Those two fights were not aberrations.
If Jones truly had any confidence left, he would have immediately sought Tarver out for a third fight last year. Instead, a fighter who depended on his incredible reflexes and speed to win has taken more than a year off—and yet still expects to beat one of today’s very best fighters.
Sadly for Jones and his fans, the only thing sustaining him now is hubris. It’s a dangerous toxin, the same one that spelled the end of Muhammad Ali against Trevor Berbick and Sugar Ray Leonard against Terry Norris.
So what will we see Saturday night?
Tarver will prevail again, though it will take a little longer to catch the shell-shocked Jones, who will be dancing from the time he leaves his locker room to the time Tarver finally drills him. In other words, expect a boring fight until Tarver zeroes in.
This won’t be Ali “Rope-A-Doping” as he did in Zaire against George Foreman, or Leonard stealing rounds against Marvelous Marvin Hagler. Not this time. This is the fight that will force even Jones to recognize the brutal truth: His days as a championship-caliber fighter are over—forever.
Tarver KO 7 Jones.
THE PROOF WAS IN ATLANTIC CITY (September 28, 2005)
By William Dettloff
Whether or not they admit it, good fighters fight to prove something. To their father, or to the crowd, to the guys they ran with when they were kids, to those rich bastards in the big houses. Many will tell you it’s to make money so their families can live better, and probably they believe it. But underneath the platitudes and cliches and everything else fighters say because they’re told to, they fight to prove something about themselves: They have value. They have worth. They are good. It’s the principal reason anyone strives to do anything.
On Saturday night in Atlantic City’s Boardwalk Hall, all four guys on the HBO telecast proved good things about themselves as prizefighters. That’s rare. In any pair of fights that are fairly evenly matched, as these were, we can expect to see someone lose ground.
We see a guy get exposed as amateurish. Or we see him fall apart emotionally. We find out he has no wind or that he bails when things get rocky, or that his technique goes out the window when he’s pressed. Or he’s a bleeder. Not on this card.
There still were two losers, of course, and all things considered, at the end of the night I’d rather have been Miguel Cotto or Wladimir Klitschko than Ricardo Torres or Sam Peter. But the losers didn’t hurt themselves terribly. I’m not of the “everyone’s a winner” school and all you had to see was Torres’ face at the postfight press conference, despondent and battered red and lumpy, to know that there were indeed losers this night. But there are losers and then there are losers.
I’d never heard of Torres before they said he was going to fight Cotto. And then I told a guy beforehand that if he were any good they wouldn’t be using him. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Torres wasn’t as big or strong or as well-schooled as Cotto or as well-connected, but he kept coming back and rocking him, even floored him in the second. Yes, he eventually submitted to Cotto’s better firepower and skills. But it was a brilliant fight, one of the best of the year, and if Torres never does anything special in a ring again, he’s already proved himself a worthy prizefighter.
Cotto, for the second time now, proved that it is far easier to hurt him than it is to stop him. That he got out of the second round and then out of the fifth, when he was badly hurt and never once lost his composure or technique, speaks volumes about his heart and his strength. We’ve been hearing for a while now that he will be a special fighter, and it turns out he is—though not necessarily for the reasons we were told.
Peter’s technical liabilities are myriad; he doesn’t get low to punch, he hasn’t a clue what to do inside, and he is as predictable as the tides. But we knew that already, and besides, those things can all be worked out in the gym, or improved with experience. They will take care of themselves. The important things he showed—his resolve, his chin, his grit—cannot be learned. He wakes up in the morning with them. They were unknowns before and now are no longer. He walked into some booming right hands from Klitschko, kept coming, and never stopped trying over a long, grueling fight.
Finally, there is Klitschko, and it was not a performance that will or should inspire great confidence from his backers. But he proved something too: that he can keep it together emotionally. There came a point when it looked as though he was unraveling again, and every time Peter touched him, he shook. But the longer it went, the better he got. And at the end, he almost looked like the guy he was before his confidence left him.
This wouldn’t be much of a sport if there were no losers. And winners sometimes aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. But winning and losing is secondary to proving yourself. Don’t buy that “just win, baby” stuff. That’s promoter-talk. Fighters get that from managers and public relations people. Cotto, Torres, Peter, and Klitschko all proved something on Saturday night. Good for them.
Bill Dettloff’s book, Box Like The Pros, written with former heavyweight champion Joe Frazier, will be published by HarperCollins in November.
Bill can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.
LEAVANDER JOHNSON & SURVIVOR’S GUILT (September 21, 2005)
By William Dettloff
As I write this, Leavander Johnson is in a medically induced coma following surgery for a subdural hematoma that occurred during his loss to Jesus Chavez on the Marco Antonio Barrera-Robbie Peden card in Las Vegas. Doctors attending him at University Medical Center call his condition guarded, but say he's shown unexpected improvement. That's a good sign, but these things can change in an instant. And there's no way of knowing now, of course, what kind of damage will follow Johnson into retirement and for the rest of his life, should he come out of it. He's only 35 years old.
As always happens when a well-known fighter suffers serious injury in a televised fight, fans and fight writers in great number are wringing their hands today and talking in solemn tones about the guilt they feel for being fight fans. If not for their ghoulish attention, they reason, prizefighters wouldn't have any reason to fight. If they-we-stopped watching, boxing would go away (to where I've never been able to figure out) or as a species we might finally be forced to evolve out of the need for it, and young men would stop dropping dead from broken blood vessels bursting inside their skulls. And if they happened to for another reason, well, our hands would be clean.
This habit of self-torment seems to be particular to those involved in the fight game. I can think of no other sport whose fans and peripheral participants torture themselves so for having "contributed" to a death whose arrival seemed too soon. Auto racing, at every level, produces dozens of deaths every year, and though I'm not a fan myself, I have it on sound authority that those deaths, no matter how fiery or gruesome, are treated within the sport as an unfortunate but unavoidable part of the trade. Everyone knows the risks.
The same can be said of those deaths that shadow football, from the high school level on up, and motorcycle racing, and all the other games we play and watch almost solely because they are so dangerous. Those of us without the courage or commitment or talent to compete at the top level at anything have little choice but to marvel at the recklessness and spirit of those who do. We can't help it. We seem to be hard wired for it.
And when death comes in one of those other games of chance, there is a blip and they move on. Part of the game. In the fight game we linger. We grow morose and regretful and the deaths drive some away. We question: What went wrong? Whose fault was it? Why did it happen? We forget; this is a sport where men (and women) hit each other. On the head. And the head wasn't made for hitting. So sometimes bad things happen.
I've thought a lot about why this distinction exists in boxing. The only thing I can fathom is we see everything a fighter is. He has no helmet to hide his face. He isn't hidden inside a car that's whizzing around a track at 200 miles per hour. With good camera work, we can see every scar on his face, the lettering on every tattoo, and if we look closely enough, every bruise on his psyche. When he fights we can see right into his heart. So if something happens to him, we feel badly because we knew him so well. Even if we never met him.
Even so, I won't apologize for the business. In the bigger picture it is no more brutal than life itself and has helped many more than it has hurt. And long after you and I and everyone we know are long gone, men will still be fighting one another with their fists, and sometimes bad things will happen as a result. You may feel guilty about that fact if you wish. I will not.
I didn't see Johnson's stand against Chavez. People I trust tell me he fought bravely and well and with every bit of his being. Good for him. I hope deeply that he recovers fully and speedily, for the good of his family and others around him, and for himself. In the very sad event that he does not, the sport will move on. And so we should, with our collective conscience clear.
Bill Dettloff’s book, Box Like The Pros, written with former heavyweight champion Joe Frazier, will be published by HarperCollins in November.
Bill can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.
ERIK MORALES AND THE PETER PRINCIPLE (September 14, 2005)
By William Dettloff
In business, the Peter Principle means that in a large organization, people are usually promoted up to their level of incompetence. They keep going up the ladder, higher and higher until eventually they land the job they are truly bad at. And they stay there.
This explains why the top people in many organizations and governments are dingbats; why, for example, it seemingly took less time to build the space station than it took to get help to a city that was drowning in a sea of corpse water. In a sense, it explains also why Erik Morales looked like he too was fighting underwater against Zahir Raheem on Saturday night.
When he turned pro, Morales weighed in the area of 122 pounds. Sure he looked like a praying mantis, but he was sharp, tough, just fast enough, and when he hit guys on the chin, they felt it. He stayed at junior featherweight for a long time, bagged a couple of alphabet titles, and then decided to move up. You couldn’t blame him. How long was the guy supposed to live on ice chips?
So he got promoted. Moved up to featherweight. Did a nice job there too. Scored another alphabet title. Not quite the same pop in his fists, not quite as overpowering as he was at junior feather, and not quite as consistent, but still one of the best in the world. Good for him. And, he could swallow a celery stick every now and again. What more could he ask for?
Before long, he was due for another promotion: junior lightweight. Why not? Everything had gone well so far. Sure the fights were harder, every one a war. When he landed his best right hands the other guy didn’t go anywhere, he fought back. And 130-pounders hit harder. Jesus Chavez, no one’s idea of a big puncher, hurt him bad. But he got through them all at junior lightweight because he was still better, tougher, and stronger.
Not so at 135 against Raheem. We saw the Peter Principle in play. Morales went up to a weight at which he was simply not an effective fighter. He was slow—slow on his feet, slow with his hands, slow on defense. His punches were dead.
Sure Raheem and his style had something to do with it; he’s a slick guy and a good fighter, but ask yourself what the outcome would likely have been if he and Morales were both 126 pounds. It’s conjecture of course, but I see an entirely different fight.
One of the bad things about business is that the Peter Principle isn’t really reversible; after promoting some dunderhead to executive vice president in charge of screw-ups and bad decisions, few executives are amenable to demoting him. It would make them look bad.
Fighters can reverse the Peter Principle, simply by moving back down in weight, which is what Morales plans to do when he keeps his appointment with Manny Pacquiao at 130 pounds. That’s a smart move, in my view. Write off the loss as a bad experiment and get on with the business of building that Hall of Fame resume. No real damage done. He’s got good work yet to do.
Bill Dettloff’s book, Box Like The Pros, written with former heavyweight champion Joe Frazier, will be published by HarperCollins in November.
Bill can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.
TIM AUSTIN’S RETURN (September 7, 2005)
By William Dettloff
Buried underneath the televised matches on Don King’s card in Cleveland last weekend, Tim Austin fought for the first time in two-and-a-half years. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought he was here all the while; he broke down Reynaldo Hurtado, a serviceable featherweight journeyman from Miami, piece by piece and stopped him in the fifth round. It was like old times for Austin: the popping right jab, the smart body work, the hard stoicism. The win took him to 26-1-1 (23).
That Austin was kept off the telecast in favor of bigger, less talented guys—and all four of the fighters in the televised events qualify in spades—is new to neither Austin or to followers of his career. King was doing that to him when he was the long-reigning IBF bantamweight beltholder and one of the top 10 or 12 guys in the world, pound-for-pound.
You remember how it was. Things were getting interesting down there between 118 and 126, what with Johnny Tapia, Paulie Ayala, and others all either fighting one another or fighting within a few pounds of one another. While Austin, maybe the best of any of them, sat on the sidelines, punching a clock with a mandatory defense every year: one fight in 1997. Two each in ’98 and ’99. One in ’00. He had three in ’01, but then it was back down to one in ’02, and then he lost the title in a war against Rafael Marquez in ’03.
I spoke with Austin and Aaron Snowell, his trainer, during one of Austin’s long stretches between fights and what stands out even now is how badly he wanted to be in the ring, doing what he was supposed to be doing. The inactivity pained him. You could hear it in his voice. He wanted to be a bigger star, a better fighter. He wanted to make more money, challenge himself, become a legend. He cared about all the things we want our fighters and our heroes to care about.
He couldn’t make it happen. A fighter signs a contract with a promoter who promises him the world so long as he keeps winning. Austin kept winning, but the world came just in drips, so little at a time that it wasn’t the world at all. Austin and Snowell were careful not to criticize King during our conversation, but they didn’t have to. The list is long of fighters whose careers King has stymied and stalled. It’s no secret.
We all wrung our hands and hoped that Austin’s time would come. The big fight he deserved would come, eventually. It had to, right? It didn’t. Marquez got to him first and then, after the Marquez loss, he was accused of raping a 16-year-old girl. He was looking at 20 years. I thought then that it would be the last we’d hear of him, whether or not he beat the rap. He was already 31 then, maybe 32, and little guys who fight once a year don’t last long in this business, even guys as good as Austin was.
When it finally went to the jury, they deliberated 40 minutes before acquitting him and Austin was in the gym soon after. And there he was on Saturday night, still with King, taking care of business against Hurtado. Still wanting to be a bigger star, a better fighter, still wanting to be a legend. The clock was against him before. That was more than two years ago. He’s 34 now. It’s still ticking | 
