CASE FOR SUGAR SHANE ARTIFICIALLY SWEETENED
END-OF-SUMMER MAILBAG
MARQUEZ TAKES THE HIGH ROAD TO THE TOP
WARREN’S GAMBLE PAYS OFF—FOR FANS
HOW TO SAVE OLYMPIC BOXING— AND WHY IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN
OSCAR-PACQUIAO: A WORTHY SUPERFIGHT
NO BIG MIDDLEWEIGHT FIGHTS? LOOK CLOSER
BOO-HOOING IN BEIJING
WHO ARE YOU AGAIN?
JOSE LUIS CASTILLO: QUITTING A PIECE AT A TIME
HAPPY DAYS IN MEXICO
DISCOUNTING MARGARITO
WHAT DO WE WANT FROM WLADIMIR KLITSCHKO?
THE WBC: AT IT AGAIN
NO LOVE FOR PACQUIAO
ABRAHAM VS. PAVLIK BEGINS TO PERCOLATE
LIFE AFTER MAYWEATHER
CALZAGHE-PAVLIK: TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING
CLEAN-UP ON AISLE SIX
MEDIOCRITY IN MANCHESTER
GAMBOA: GOOD NEWS/BAD NEWS
PETER VS. (THE WRONG) KLITSCHKO: CELEBRATION OF THE ABSURD
DE LA HOYA GETS HIS FOOT IN THE DOOR
ROY JONES: OLD AND IMPROVED
WHAT IT MEANS IF DE LA HOYA WINS
WHAT IT MEANS IF FORBES WINS
DENY, DENY, DENY
CORNERING MAYWEATHER
WELTERWEIGHT & LIGHT HEAVY TAKING CARE OF BUSINESS
CONTENDER ALUMNI GROWING UP
JOEL CASAMAYOR, WORLD LIGHTWEIGHT CHAMPION—STILL
THE FIGHTING MARQUEZ BROTHERS: AT AN IMPASSE
NATE CAMPBELL: NO REVERSE GEAR
VAZQUEZ-MARQUEZ: OUR TRILOGY
VAZQUEZ, MARQUEZ, KLITSCHKO CUT FROM DIFFERENT CLOTHS
JERMAIN TAYLOR AND THE BITTEREST PILL
JERMAIN TAYLOR: A CHANGED MAN?
13 REASONS BOXING IS BETTER THAN FOOTBALL
LITTLE HEAVYWEIGHTS: WELCOME BACK
ROY JONES: VISIONS OF YOUTH RESTORED
MAYWEATHER-DE LA HOYA II: THE WORLD SNORES
BOXING AS KILLER AND SAVIOR

PREVIOUS RING UPDATE ARCHIVES

JULY-DECEMBER 2007

JANUARY-JUNE 2007

JULY-DECEMBER 2006

JANUARY-JUNE 2006

2005

CASE FOR SUGAR SHANE ARTIFICIALLY SWEETENED (September 29, 2008)

By William Dettloff

Shane Mosley’s last-second knockout Saturday night of Ricardo Mayorga will no doubt be among the highlight films running in Canastota when Mosley is inducted into the Hall of Fame five years after he retires.

Such was the ending that even HBO’s curmudgeonly Larry Merchant was moved to shout, “Shane Mosley, I love you!”

We can only hope Arturo Gatti wasn’t watching.

At any rate, long forgotten will be the sloppy, back-and-forth rounds that preceded that ending, when Mosley walked into numerous wild overhand rights, missed many amateurish attempts himself, and frequently was sent stumbling by Mayorga’s clumsy rushes.

But that’s the way it is with Mosley: his missteps largely forgotten or ignored, his triumphs, no matter how modest, frequently overblown.

The sober-minded will recall that in his prior fight, Mayorga eked out a majority decision win over Fernando Vargas, who was as mobile and bloated as a museum Brontosaurus and about as dangerous. Prior to that, Oscar De La Hoya nearly decapitated Mayorga on the way to stopping him in the sixth round. Still, Mosley didn’t exactly impress.

Mosley’s disciples, who are large in number and loyal to a fault, will reply—some in e-mail containing curse words heretofore unknown in any language—that Mosley is 37 years old and deserving of consideration of that sad fact.

It happens to be irrelevant.

Mosley’s long ago reign as a lightweight beltholder was mostly unremarkable inasmuch as his challengers were competent, but vividly unspectacular. There is not a very memorable fighter among them. You can argue Jesse James Leija and John-John Molina if you like. I will not.

His primary accomplishment at welterweight was a close win over De La Hoya for the WBC title. (The third and final defense of which came against under-qualified Adrian Stone, and after Mosley stopped him in three rounds, Merchant clucked at him disapprovingly, “What do you think this win proves?”)

Then came the two resounding losses to Vernon Forrest; a very close and (justifiably in my view) disputed win over De La Hoya in their rematch, and back-to-back losses to Winky Wright.

The important fights since? Two wins over the aforementioned shadow of a shadow of Vargas, one over Luis Callazo, and a loss to Miguel Cotto. Mosley’s record since beating De La Hoya the first time: 10-5 with one no-contest.

Mosley is immensely likable, admirably humble, dedicated, entertaining, fearless. And he’s been a wonderful fighter. There is so much to admire about him. But we should be careful not to project exceptional accomplishment where it does not exist, no matter how admirable and likable the subject.

Some miscellaneous observations from last week:

The November issue of THE RING contains a fascinating and entertaining interview with Enzo Calzaghe, conducted by the inimitable Brain Doogan, THE RING’s longtime European correspondent. In it Calzaghe testily questions why “pundits say that fighters have to go to America to learn the trade properly.” He asks, “Why and to learn what?”

It’s hard to say. Maybe Ricky Hatton, who just hired Floyd Mayweather Sr., knows. Or Amir Khan, who is reportedly to be going with Freddie Roach. Perhaps Wladimir Klitschko, who rejuvenated his career with Emanuel Steward, can say. Or we can ask John Duddy (Pat Burns), Sam Peter (Stacey McKinley and Pops Anderson), Sultan Ibragimov (Jeff Mayweather), Tomasz Adamek (Sam Colonna), or Andy Lee (Steward).

Apparently we pundits have more influence than we thought.

Calzaghe offers up the success of several of his fighters—Bradley Pryce, Enzo Maccarinelli, Gary Lockett, Gavin Rees—as evidence of his acumen. But of that group, THE RING rates only Maccarinelli among the top 10 in his division, and last time we saw him, he was imitating a lawn dart after less than a round against David Haye. And Lockett proved far less dangerous to Kelly Pavlik than did, for example, Pavlik’s apparently poor window-replacing skills.

Calzaghe is right that the fight business is booming in Great Britain (and elsewhere) and getting better all the time. Bully for them. That’s good for everyone. And I love listening to Enzo curse up a storm in the corner. But let’s be honest: If not for his son, would any of us know who he is?

The less said the better about that abomination of a card on Versus last week, where Chris Arreola, Paul Williams, and every other favored fighter on the show decimated a hopelessly overmatched opponent. What a load of garbage. Unless they paid Goossen Tutor about $4.99 for it, someone at Versus should arrive at his office Monday morning to find the locks changed.

Antonio Margarito runs Mosley out of the ring. I’d much rather see Mosley-Forrest III or, for that matter, Mayorga-Forrest III.

CompuBox credited Steve Forbes with landing 76 powerpunches against Andre Berto, forgetting that with Forbes there really are no powerpunches. He’s such a nifty little boxer it’s a shame he can’t hurt anyone. Would it kill him to do a push-up or two?

So Oscar De La Hoya has chosen the excellent Nacho Beristain for his match against Manny Pacquiao. That seals it: “The Golden Boy” has officially sampled every top trainer of the last 20 years.

It felt like a long time since Merchant had done an HBO fight. It was wonderful to hear him again.

Bill can be reached at dettloff@ptd.net.

END-OF-SUMMER MAILBAG (September 22, 2008)

By William Dettloff

It’s that time, dear readers, for an end-of-summer mailbag, made up of e-mail I’ve received over the last several months. Read on for thoughts on everything from creeping dementia to Amir Khan’s collapse, from curious foot care to where Juan Manuel Marquez stands among his contemporaries.

Bill,
Regarding this week’s update (“Who Are You Again?”): Did you also “forget” that Hopkins-Calzaghe was on regular HBO and not HBO PPV? That would at least explain why you couldn’t find the number to order, eh?
Cheers
—H.S.N., Rotterdam, The Netherlands

Indeed I did. See what I mean about this senility stuff? It’s a bitch.

What’s your problem with the Oscar De La Hoya-Manny Pacquiao fight? Won’t you feel stupid when it’s the biggest fight ever?
—Arvin, Milwaukee, WI

Hi, Arvin. I was stupid long before the De La Hoya-Pacquiao fight was announced, and I’ll be stupid long after it’s over, but that’s besides the point. I don’t have a problem with the fight per se; I just don’t care about it. If Oscar wins, he’ll have beaten a much smaller guy. If Pacquiao wins, he’ll have beaten a guy 10 years past his prime. So what. Know what would get me pumped? De La Hoya-Shane Mosley III and Pacquiao-Edwin Valero on the same card. That would rock.

You and the other boxing “experts” are always blaming pay-per-view for boxing’s problems. But UFC cards have always been on pay-per-view and it hasn’t hurt that sport. Why?
—Bruce, Hazlet, NJ

Excellent point, Bruce. Wish I had an answer for it. Anyone?

Amir Khan walks into a diner and orders a three-minute egg. They make him pay in advance.
—Harry, Basking Ridge, NJ

Rimshot!

I write in response to your proposal to consolidate weight classes. I must say, looking at your fantasy rankings, I got all jittery just thinking about it. I think it would do a world of good for the sport. What do you think the likelihood is for something like that coming to fruition? Or will it have to stay a fantasy—too much red tape?
—Justin

Hi, Justin. Unfortunately, there’s a better chance that Britney Spears will win an award for Mother of the Year. A better chance that the next time you see Joe Cortez he’ll look like the lead singer from Whitesnake. A better chance that we’ll find out Scott Baio is a Mensa member in good standing. A better chance that, well, you get the idea.

Why don’t you leave the WBC and Jose Sulaiman alone! What did they ever do to you? They’ve done many good things for the sport and don’t deserve your insults. Get a real job.
—Aaron, Phoenix

Dear Aaron: If I could get a real job, don’t you think I would have by now? Anyway, if you think the WBC (and the WBA, WBO, and IBF) have been good for boxing, you’re at the wrong website. You’ll find others out there whose writers hold that more weight classes and more titles is a good thing because the money gets spread around among less talented fighters. This is like saying malignant melanoma is a good thing because it helps you lose weight.

Bill:
1. What’s Amir Khan'’s favourite film? Gone in 60 Seconds.
2. Amir Khan’s a teetotaller and stingy to boot. He went out last Saturday and didn’t even get a single round in.
3. What’s the difference between Amir Khan and a Rustler burger? About six seconds.
—Rab, Great Britain

You Brits are brutal. I love it.

Bill,
I thought I would ask you a question about San Antonio’s Raul Martinez, who beat Isidro García last Friday for the IBA world super flyweight championship in California. How important or unimportant is the IBA title? Even in San Antonio, the press pretty much ignored his fight.
—Enrique, Los Angeles, CA

Hi, Enrique. The San Antonio press did exactly the right thing. Kudos to them.

Bill,
Just heard that Golden Boy has teamed up with Affliction and is discussing televising mixed bout shows. Given your feelings about mixed martial arts, how do you feel about watching a pay-per-view card that shows both boxing and MMA?
—Jake, The Bronx, New York

About how I would if I turned on the TV and saw Eva Longoria in a bikini chewing her toenails: repulsed, but not quite enough to change the channel.

Bill,
Just wanted to drop a line on James Kirkland. He should have at least lost a point, and the fight certainly was stopped too early. I thought he was getting hit an awful lot too. Let him go five or six rounds—might be a different story.
—Chris, Nantucket

Hi, Chris. Kirkland got away with a really blatant shot that in my opinion should have gotten him a two-point deduction and Ricardo Cortes a five-minute rest. For whatever reason, referees not named Joe Cortez are increasingly tolerant these days of guys who hit a downed opponent. And, yes, Kirkland was getting tagged a lot. The right hand Cortes landed just before the stoppage was his best punch of the fight.

Mr. Dettloff,
I just finished reading your online article of the (Olympic) scoring system and how the Americans cannot adjust to it. You’re crazy. It seems like you're solution is: If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. You criticize the point system and put down the fighters and coaches (who don’t deserve to get slandered by some ignoramus like you, who probably never took a punch in his life). The answer is to build a good amateur base, boycott the Olympics since you sadly won’t benefit from it, and, if other countries follow suit, we might see a change that amateur boxing so desperately needs.
—Tony

Hi, Tony. I stand by my position: If the American team wants to win gold medals, they have to adjust to the current system. I also agree with Teddy Atlas that we have to decide whether the point of our amateur program is to win gold medals or serve as a training ground for the pros. With the current scoring system, it cannot be both.

Bill,
Miguel Cotto took a serious hammering from Antonio Margarito. Do you think it might have ruined him, or will he be able to come back?
—Saul, Apple Valley, MN

Cotto took a bad beating the last couple of rounds and it’s easy to imagine him being gun-shy from now on. I really don’t see it, though. He’s a very strong guy mentally and I think beats about every guy out there except for Margarito. I’d still love a rematch.

Oscar De La Hoya is my favorite fighter. So why isn’t he going after Margarito? I’d be okay with him fighting Paul Williams. Williams did beat Margarito after all, but Antonio is the man right now.
—Jerry, Michigan

Hi, Jerry. He’s not fighting Margarito because he’s got about a gazillion dollars in the bank and a pretty face and everything to live for. If he were still on his way up, yes, I’d hold it against him. But he’s not. He’s in the twilight of his career and when he was young he fought almost everyone there was to fight. I give him a pass, grudgingly.

Mr. Dettloff,
I am curious. Spectacular as his victory over Joel Casamayor was, a lot of boxing writers are now declaring that Juan Manuel Marquez has established himself as superior to Marco Antonio Barrera and Erik Morales in both talent and accomplishment. Do you agree?
—Tom, Fremont, NY

Hi, Tom. I don’t. In my view, Barrera and Morales got a lot more accomplished at a higher level than did Marquez, and over a longer period of time. I might see it differently if Marquez gets a third match with Manny Pacquiao and officially beats him, but as of now, Barrera and Morales are at a higher level.

Some miscellaneous observations:

Shane Mosley should beat Ricardo Mayorga. The question is how hard it will be. If it’s too hard, he’ll be thinking retirement again afterward. I think that’s the way it goes: Mosley, but not easy.

Note to John Ruiz’ team: It’s not that we don’t believe there was something funky going on with the scorecards in Germany. There might have been. We just don’t care.

Contrary to what has been reported elsewhere, the IBO (yes, it pained me to type those letters) had nothing to do with the Washington, D.C., Boxing and Wrestling Commission’s decision to uphold Ishmael Arvin’s win over Anthony Thompson. IBO President (ouch again) Ed Levine sent me a letter he had mailed to D.C. Commission Chairman Jason Turner asking Turner to change the ruling. I’ve left a couple of messages for Turner. No call back yet. I’m shocked.

Bill can be reached at dettloff@ptd.net.

MARQUEZ TAKES THE HIGH ROAD TO THE TOP (September 15, 2008)

By William Dettloff

We all knew what Juan Manuel Marquez’ jump to 135 pounds was about. It was no secret. It was never intended to be. It was about getting Manny Pacquiao in the ring again and, given the brutal nature of their first two fights, you could question the wisdom of that goal. But that’s Marquez.

You couldn’t have blamed him had he stayed put at 130 pounds, kept his mouth shut, and gotten reasonably rich defending some alphabet title or another against a series of lesser fighters.

Junior lightweight isn’t the pool of sharks lightweight has become, and Marquez could have reigned a good long while beating guys like Jorge Barrios, Alex Arthur, and Humberto Soto. He didn’t.

Marquez could have gone after Pacquiao in any number of ways. He could have called loudly, boorishly, and incessantly for an investigation into the scoring of the second fight, which, while close in Pacquiao’s favor, contradicted the majority of media opinion. He didn’t.

He could have called Pacquiao all manner of derogatory names, insulted his mother, and accused him of being on steroids. He didn’t do that either.

He could easily have found a lawyer willing to bill him thousands of dollars to look for some phony-baloney clause or conflict of interest in the contract that he could take to a judge who could be “persuaded” into ordering a rematch. He didn’t.

He could have jumped to 135 and gone after some weaker titleholders of this or that ranking body—there are enough of them around, for cripes’ sake—and tried to use that title as leverage for a Pacquiao fight. Plus, it never hurts to have another belt on the old resume, just for the hell of it. Marquez didn’t do that when he went to lightweight.

But Pacquiao did.

What did Marquez do? He took on Joel Casamayor, the reigning lightweight world champion, and knocked him flat in 11 rounds. Nobody had done that to Casamayor before. No one had come close. Probably no one will do it again.

I doubt Marquez will ever see Pacquiao across the ring from him again. Pacquiao has hit the lottery, win or lose against De La Hoya, and once that happens, even the bravest fighters have trouble convincing themselves to go through what Marquez and Pacquiao did in their first two fights.

Marquez should be satisfied anyway with what he’s done. I doubt he will be.

Some miscellaneous observations from last week:

Media consensus was that Marquez-Casamayor was rather a bore until the kayo, but from my recliner, I thought it was a hell of a good high-level scrap. And, like two of the judges, I had it even at the end.

Good for Vernon Forrest for turning back the clock for a night, and good for Sergio Mora for proving himself a tough S.O.B. by fighting hard to the end.

Mario Lopez? Really?

Barry Tompkins remains an excellent broadcaster, albeit one who’s lost the ability to discern a landed punch from one that’s missed.

In case you missed it, Larry Hazzard, deposed commissioner of the New Jersey State Athletic Control Board, has landed at the IBF. He will serve as Chairman of Officials Development, Education and Supervision, as well as President Marian Muhammad’s “personal assistant.”

Great. The IBF’s top three welterweight contenders are “Not Rated,” “Not Rated,” and Zab Judah, and Hazzard will be in charge of picking up Muhammad’s laundry.

By threatening to buy tickets for their judges to sit ringside and turn in their own scores for Saturday night’s fight between Timothy Bradley and Edner Cherry in Biloxi in defiance of both the Mississippi Athletic Commission and the Association of Boxing Commissions, the WBC entered the realm of the surreal. In any other sport, they’d have been forcibly disbanded long ago. In ours, we put their president in the Hall of Fame. Fortunately, the WBC came to whatever is left of their senses and the Commission-appointed judges were used.

The next time you see Joan Guzman … well, never mind. You may never see him again.

So Nate Campbell expects Don King to pay him even though there was no fight for him Saturday night. Nate, Tim Witherspoon called. So did Mike Tyson. And Chris Byrd. And Hasim Rahman. And John Ruiz. And Julio Cesar Chavez. Larry Holmes too. And Juan Diaz. They all said the same thing: Ha! Good luck!

Bill can be reached at dettloff@ptd.net.

WARREN’S GAMBLE PAYS OFF—FOR FANS (September 8, 2008)

By William Dettloff

The next few weeks will not be kind to Amir Khan, following his humbling first-round knockout loss over the weekend to unknown Colombian Breidis Prescott. One imagines the scene at ringside at the end to have been sort of an intellectual melee, as the wits in the British press scrambled to find sufficiently disparaging plays on Khan’s name.

It will be hard to top the deliciously clever “Fraudley” Harrison that was assigned poor Audley when the terrible secret of his mediocrity got out. “A Mere Con,” which one sharp reader e-mailed the morning after, comes awfully close.

I enjoy it as much as anyone when a nobody upends a superstar-in-the-making. On the rare occasion that it happens, it makes worthwhile all those mismatches we sit through that we are told constitute one of the many necessary evils that are required to build a pug into a star that can fill arenas or casinos and keep the sport going.

Khan, who was a recent “The Ring Interview” subject, comes off as a reasonably agreeable and grounded sort, and very earnest. I suspect he will come back from this defeat quite capably and we all should remember that in the days we recall as golden for boxing, no one was undefeated. A fighter was considered a neophyte until he had a loss or two under his belt, and we’d be wise to think likewise.

Still, there is an inevitable pleasure we all should take in Khan’s defeat, as it was the main event on a card that aired live on pay-per-view in Great Britain (promoted above even Nicky Cook’s upset win over Alex Arthur).

Frank Warren took an enormous gamble on Khan, a prospect and nothing more, by betting his star power would inspire the public to pay to watch him headline a pay-per-view card in just his 19th pro fight.

None of Khan’s prior fights were contested against anyone of world-class stature, a category into which Prescott fit quite nicely despite his undefeated record, which was compiled almost entirely in Colombia. It was a gamble on the British fight public’s willingness to pay for something they clearly deserved to get for nothing—an unprecedented gamble at that (excepting Julio Cesar Chavez Jr., in the United States, who is rather a unique case).

The only corollary in history is Oscar De La Hoya, whose first pay-per-view main event came in his 18th pro fight, but his opponent was Rafael Ruelas and they met for the IBF lightweight title. And De La Hoya had already beaten several proven former titleholders in Troy Dorsey, Jorge Paez, and John-John Molina.

We are fortunate that, despite his credentials, Prescott arrived in Manchester with that eerie ability unknown Colombian sluggers have to knock undefeated favorites stiff. For if he had gone quietly, thereby leaving the Khan gravy train intact, promoters by the dozens would right now be rubbing their hands together in anticipation of the pitiably mediocre pay-per-view shows they too could sell once they manufactured a star prospect of their own.

That’s not to say Khan was manufactured. It is to say boxing consumers should expect a fighter to reach a certain level of accomplishment before they should be required to pay to watch him on television. Khan hadn’t reached that level. He may yet, and his loss may not matter in the end, but for one night at least, things worked out exactly the way they should have—for the fans.

Some miscellaneous observations from last week:

Rocky Juarez’ win over Jorge Barrios on Saturday night reminded me a bit of Acelino Fretias’ win over the red-goggled Argentine in 2003. Barrios was doing very well before suddenly falling apart late in the fight, just like against Juarez.

At first, I was surprised Barrios didn’t protest when referee Rafael Ramos stopped it in the 11th round. Then it hit me: It’s hard to complain when a large chunk of the inside of your face is flapping around half in, half out of your mouth.

Who else was cursing Juan Diaz about halfway through his surprisingly tame win over Michael Katsidis? Not because he was boring or anything, but because he was too damned good to make it exciting. For a pressure fighter, Diaz is unusually skilled.

Either way, both fights were rather a letdown. Wouldn’t it be something if next week’s lightweight fights made up of four boxers—Joel Casamayor-Juan Manuel Marquez and Nate Campbell-Joan Guzman—were more exciting than this past week’s fights, which consisted of two punchers, a pressure fighter and a hyena?

For the record, my picks are Marquez and Guzman—close.

It was bad enough that Juarez-Barrios was for something called the WBO Latino title. But promoting Diaz-Katsidis as an IBO lightweight championship fight? For shame, Golden Boy.

New rule: Grown men, particularly those involved in the fight game, must stop referring to the navel as the “belly button.” Are we all eight years old?

I know that ever since Humberto Soto got himself disqualified against Francisco Lorenzo, we’re all supposed to look the other way when a fighter hits a floored opponent. Not here. If you want to see guys get punched while they’re down, watch mixed martial arts.

In that vein, James Kirkland should have been heavily penalized, if not disqualified, for hitting Ricardo Cortes when Cortes was on the mat Friday night. And while we’re at it, referee Gregorio Alvarez stopped the fight too soon.

How bad are the fighters in Sweden when 47-year-old Ray Mercer beats a 30-3 heavyweight nicknamed “The Dutch Sonny Liston”?

No, he didn’t deserve the decision that rightly went to James Countryman, but Jesse Orta is one of the better fighters I’ve seen who’s lost half his fights.

Of course De La Hoya won’t retire after the Manny Pacquiao fight (unless Pacquiao destroys him, which he might). Why would he? What’s he supposed to do for the rest of his life?

It really is time for Kevin Johnson, who stopped 41-year-old Bruce Seldon Friday night, to face a credible opponent.

Sure, Floyd Mayweather Sr. is a good trainer and all, but can he do that cool thing with his finger that Billy Graham can?

Bill can be reached at dettloff@ptd.net.

HOW TO SAVE OLYMPIC BOXING—AND WHY IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN
(September 1, 2008)

By William Dettloff

My column two weeks ago blaming the American amateur boxing program for its complete failure at the Beijing Olympic Games generated a lot of e-mail, the majority of it defending the American team and blaming the scoring system.

I maintain that the American amateur boxing program must adapt to the current environment if it is to produce Olympic champions. That doesn’t mean the current environment is desirable. It isn’t.

The scoring system, presented ostensibly as an effort to curb corrupt judging, has turned out to be a disaster, having the ruinous effect of turning the bouts into boring, monotonous affairs that even hardcore fans find virtually unwatchable.

It’s not just the scoring system that has all but ruined Olympic boxing. Other changes instituted over the last 20 years or so have as well, and they all stem from the same misguided and disingenuous effort at making amateur boxing appear to be something it really isn’t (and shouldn’t be): an altogether different and much safer sport than pro boxing.

News flash: Headgear doesn’t protect the brain from serious injury. It was never intended to. Nor do bigger gloves. They protect the hands, not the head. The scoring system doesn’t do a thing to prevent corrupt scoring, and there’s no evidence that suggests there’s anything wrong with three, three-minute rounds.

Want to save Olympic boxing? Ditch the scoring system and the headgear and make them fight three, three-minute rounds. That’s all there is to it.

The people who make their living in boxing who are in the gyms every day and have spent their lives in the business all know these things. They all do, every one of them.

They go along with the current system because they have to, because somewhere along the way, the world decided that in its former form, amateur boxing was too crass and violent and corrupt to be included in, ahem, such a high-minded exercise as the Olympic Games. And the game had to buy into it to survive. It had to embrace the smoke and mirrors.

It’s the same kind of thinking that in the pros has brought us 12-round title fights and bigger gloves and fights that get stopped because of cuts on the forehead or nose or because of large hematomas—injuries that are relatively harmless but difficult to look at or that appear dangerous. In reality we’re not doing anything to make the fighters safer. We’re just making it look that way. It’s a mirage.

Meanwhile, the real changes the sport could make to protect its fighters—standardized testing and medical protocols, better record-keeping, routine MRI testing, fewer gross mismatches, better on-site medical support—are the things we’ve wanted for years and that we know would reduce the incidence of brain injury, but are too inconvenient (see expensive) to institute and enforce. So we go for the smoke and mirrors that make everyone feel a little better.

But as we’re finding out, even mirages aren’t free.

Some miscellaneous observations from last week:

Prediction: Ivan Calderon will be the least-watched fighter ever to be inducted into the Hall of Fame.

Doesn’t it feel like Nicolay Valuev, John Ruiz, and Ruslan Chagaev are fighting in some alternate universe?

Good for Deontay Wilder for cashing in on being the only U.S. fighter to bring home a medal. But if you ask me, he looks a little too satisfied at having gotten the bronze. We’ll see how he does.

It was great entertainment watching Teddy Atlas work up a sweat trying to figure out how to ask Wilder how he felt about being on the worst U.S. Olympic team ever without actually calling it the worst U.S. Olympic team ever.

Brian Kenny is fast becoming my favorite blow-by-blow announcer. A big plus: He’s not overly deferential to Atlas. That creates a little tension between them, which, for reasons that aren’t entirely clear to me, I find entertaining.

Kudos to Matt Godfrey for his comeback win over Emmanuel Nwodo, even though referee Dan Schiavone stopped it a bit too soon. Nwodo was upright, more or less, punching back, and nobody ever died from a cut on the nose, people. He deserved the chance to fight through it, particularly as he was ahead on the cards.

Antonio Diaz’ comeback continues, which reminds me I still haven’t forgiven him (or the judges) for the gift decision he got over Omar Weis in 2000.

Who else thinks that, just for old times’ sake, ESPN should have picked up Peter Manfredo’s kayo of Donny McCrary?

Let’s just get it over with already and have Marco Antonio Barrera and Erik Morales fight a fourth time, shall we? This way they don’t have to do it when they’re in their 50s.

Here’s to hoping that Amir Khan’s pay-per-view fight is a financial disaster. If we have to start paying to see prospects headline pay-per-view cards, we really have gone around the bend.

Bill can be reached at dettloff@ptd.net.

OSCAR-PACQUIAO: A WORTHY SUPERFIGHT (August 27, 2008)

By Nigel Collins

While some members of the media are wringing their hands in anguish over the upcoming Oscar De La Hoya-Manny Pacquiao superfight, I am rubbing mine together in gleeful anticipation.

The dissenters argue that it is a physical mismatch and that Oscar is taking the easy way out by picking on a little guy.

They have the “little guy” part right, but I’m not so sure how “easy” it’s going to be.

Pacquiao isn’t exactly going to the guillotine on December 6; he’s going to fight a man who will most likely outweigh him by around 10 pounds when the opening bell rings. Moreover, Pac-Man is at the height of his powers. De La Hoya is not.

You could make the case that it is actually Oscar who is taking the bigger risk. In his most recent bout, De La Hoya suffered a broken facial bone fighting Stevie Forbes, a light puncher whose best years were spent at 130 pounds. Imagine what would have happened if it had been Pacquiao landing those punches.

Pacquiao’s trainer, Freddie Roach, has clearly thought about it, and come to the conclusion that Manny will beat Oscar. And you can’t accuse him of simply looking for a big payday. When negotiations bogged down over money, Roach offered to forgo his fee if Pacquiao were to lose.

A lot of folks wanted De La Hoya to fight Antonio Margarito. I suspect most of them are Fernando Vargas fans.

Margarito is a hot fighter coming off the biggest victory of his career. But he’s not yet a legend like Pacquiao and De La Hoya, and the risk of fighting him far outweighs the possible reward.

Or, to put it another way: Are you crazy?

Besides, I don’t see what all the whining is about in the fist place. Providing nothing bad happens between now and the first week in December, boxing fans are in for a helluva ride.

Special fighters do special things, and that’s what De La Hoya-Pacquiao is all about, two of the most popular and accomplished boxers of our generation getting it on in a fight that presents unique challenges for both of them.

What’s not to like?

NO BIG MIDDLEWEIGHT FIGHTS? LOOK CLOSER (August 25, 2008)

By William Dettloff

When Bob Arum announced the signing of the Kelly Pavlik-Bernard Hopkins bout, he did so almost apologetically, citing the unfortunate circumstance that there were no other interesting and profitable fights to make for his young star.

This has been seized upon and repeated by some in the boxing media eager to grab for the low-hanging fruit that is lamenting the glories of middleweights past.

Let’s put aside for the moment the fact Pavlik-Hopkins might turn out to be very interesting.

While it’s hard to deny that the current 160-pound weight class is largely devoid of stars, it is equally obvious that it has been made so by the presence of superfluous weight classes whose very existence suck the quality out of every division around them.

Some years ago, both The Ring and ESPN experimented with ignoring contemporary nonsense and rating fighters in the original eight weight classes—heavyweight, light heavyweight, middleweight, welterweight, lightweight, featherweight, bantamweight, and flyweight. The results were extraordinary.

Weight classes already deep became even deeper. Dominant and seemingly indestructible champions were presented with a slew of new, formidable challengers. And divisions that seemed shallow were suddenly flush with talent.

Even within the current system, which seemingly mandates a different weight class every 2 ¾ pounds, there are several 160-pounders I’d pay to watch Pavlik fight: Arthur Abraham, Felix Sturm, and Winky Wright among them.

I wouldn’t even mind Sebastian Sylvester or Amin Asikainen, whose credentials are suspect, yes, but who couldn’t possibly do any worse against Pavlik than did Gary Lockett, whose entire defensive repertoire, so far as we can tell, consists of taking a knee.

But now let’s get rid of junior middleweight, which didn’t exist before 1962. Suddenly any fighter too big for welterweight becomes a potential challenger for Pavlik and you now have Verno Phillips and Sergio Mora, Oscar De La Hoya and Vernon Forrest, maybe Cory Spinks. How about Daniel Santos?

And now blow up super middle (sorry, Joe Calzaghe-lovers). How would we exist without it? The same way we did before 1984. Sure, a lot of those guys would try to bulk up and go to 175, but a fair amount would trim down to 160 too. And Calzaghe, Mikkel Kessler, Anthony Mundine, Lucian Bute, Librado Andrade, and maybe Carl Froch would be in the running for a shot at Pavlik.

Theoretically, the middleweight division could look something like this:

Champion: Kelly Pavlik
1. Joe Calzaghe
2. Arthur Abraham
3. Mikkel Kessler
4. Felix Sturm
5. Verno Phillips
6. Anthony Mundine
7. Winky Wright
8. Oscar De La Hoya
9. Sergio Mora
10. Lucian Bute

If you can’t find a good fight in there somewhere, you’re not really looking.

Some miscellaneous observations from last week:

All the buzz and good press Nate Campbell has gotten in the months following his win over Juan Diaz—and all the debate around Campbell’s claim to the “real” lightweight title—will vanish when Joan Guzman outpoints him on September 13. Guzman is one of the most underrated fighters around and he’ll prove a little too fast for Campbell.

It’s not like I’m repulsed by a Manny Pacquiao-De La Hoya fight. Of course I’ll watch. I just won’t care. As a sharp reader noted, it’s more an “event” than a fight. Call me kooky; I prefer fights.

The near-simultaneous murders of Roshii Wells and Ronney Vargas remind us that sometimes the ring is the safest place to be.

A friend just e-mailed an article that predicts mixed martial arts will continue to grow in popularity over the next 15 years. Add that to the long list of things I do not now and won’t ever understand, right after Carrot Top’s eyebrows, the success of Dane Cook, and how fax machines work.

A recent press release touted Arthur Abraham as the “longest reigning champion in the middleweight division today.” If that sentence doesn’t tell you what’s wrong with boxing, you’re beyond hope.

Hey, Nicolay Valuev-John Ruiz II is coming up! I haven’t been this excited since I scheduled my colonoscopy.

Speaking of Valuev-Ruiz, Ruiz says he’s going to take the Russian into “deep water” before knocking him out. Hey, Jawnny, when you’re nine feet tall, there is no deep water.

Who else is shocked Norm Stone hasn’t snapped and plowed his car into a mall full of Christmas shoppers?

How exactly has Don King become a folk hero? Has he outlived everyone who remembers how he got so filthy rich?

Bill can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.

BOO-HOOING IN BEIJING (August 18, 2008)

By William Dettloff

As I write this, just one American boxer remains in the running for a medal at the Olympic Games in Beijing. This is tough to take for anyone who was around to see the Americans dominate in 1976 and again in ’84 (even if Cuba did boycott the latter).

The reasons behind the slow collapse of the amateur program in America are many and well documented—the elimination of gyms, the dearth of good trainers, the ease with which other sports have lured good athletes onto their courts and fields.

Some have blamed the mismanagement at USA Boxing, the national governing body of amateur boxing in the United States. Imagine that, a governing body screwing things up.

There are more.

The culprit cited more than any other, particularly by American boxing coaches and fighters, is the computerized scoring system that awards boxers a point for each punch recorded more or less simultaneously by the ringside judges. Or, to be more precise, the ringside punch-counters.

You’ll recall that this system was put in place entirely in response to the terrible decision in the 1988 Olympics that cost Roy Jones the gold medal.

What’s that road to hell paved with again?

Anyway, like most others, I am no fan of this system. It rewards volume over clean, effective punching. No account is taken of the power of a punch, the skill with which it is delivered, or the means by which it is set up.

In this world, Wayne McCullough would be undefeated. Teofilio Stevenson might have gone medal-less.

But what do I dislike the most about it? The same thing everyone else in America does: American fighters are no good at it. Apparently, they just can’t win with it. How do we know that? Because every time one of them loses, he says it was because of the scoring system. And everyone nods.

Here’s the question: Whose fault is it that Americans can’t win with this scoring system? The punch-counters? The Olympic Committee? Roy Jones?

None of the above. It’s everyone in the American amateur program, including the fighters. If you know how the fights will be scored and you can’t win decisions, it’s not the system’s fault; it’s your fault for not training to win within the parameters of the system.

The Cubans know how to do it. So too do the Russians. The Ukraine fighters are doing well in Beijing this year. Other teams are too. Why not the Americans?

It’s not as though for four years American amateurs train toward the Games thinking their matches will be scored like pro fights are, or like they were in 1976. Everyone knows how they are scored. It’s no surprise.

The American team did not land in Beijing and get handed a pamphlet entitled The Olympic Scoring System And You. They’ve known all along how the fights are scored. So too has every team since 1992. Yet every loss is accompanied by complaints about the “new” scoring system.

When don’t you hear Americans complaining about the scoring system? When they win. Needless to say, there’s been a lot of griping. Expect more. But don’t believe it’s anything more that just what it sounds like: sour grapes.

Some miscellaneous observations from last week:

If you want just one example of what’s wrong with amateur boxing in America, consider what American coach Dan Campbell told The New York Times after Rau’shee Warren, a favorite to win the gold, lost in his first match, which, naturally, was the result of bad scoring.

“I think they most definitely are going to be psyched out. We have a psychologist around, and we’re going to make sure she’ll talk to the team. I’m sure all of them are going to be psyched out by this.”

A psychologist? For a team of fighters? What the hell is going on? What do these kids do when they’re not in the gym, watch Oprah? Here’s a hunch I have: The Ukrainian team does not have a psychologist in Beijing. Nor do the Chinese, the Russians, or the Cubans. Ditto Mongolia and Thailand. I wouldn’t be surprised if the American team is the only one that thought it would be a good idea to bring along a mental health expert for the boys to talk to when they’re feeling a little blue or “psyched out.” Crikey. And you wonder why we can’t beat anyone.

I swear I heard Teddy Atlas screaming about the outcome of the Anthony Thompson-Ishmail Arvin fight all the way from Beijing.

All you Joe Calzaghe fans upset about his impending retirement shouldn’t worry. If history is any indication, it’ll be delayed due to injury.

The continued and astonishing success of Michael Phelps gives hope to large-eared dorks everywhere.

Hey since we’re talking about rules in the Olympics, how about we petition for one that forces the Belgium women’s beach volleyball team to wear one-piece bathing suits? Or, better yet, parkas? Sometimes the less seen the better.

I don’t know about you, but I like Manny Pacquiao-Humberto Soto more than I do Pacquiao-De La Hoya anyway. I hope it sticks and isn’t just a negotiating ploy. Also, De La Hoya-Sergio Mora is not the walk in the park for De La Hoya that everyone thinks it is.

Shameless hyperbole of the week: Promoter Jimmy Burchfield sent out a press release touting Gary Balletto’s induction into “the prestigious CES Ring of Honor,” calling Balletto “one of boxing’s great all-time warriors.” I think I just threw up a little. Where’s my psychologist?

Bill can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.

WHO ARE YOU AGAIN? (August 11, 2008)

By William Dettloff

In late July, world-class trainer Freddie Roach told boxingscene.com that he wouldn’t be training Bernard Hopkins for his upcoming fight with Kelly Pavlik, which is scheduled for October 18 in Atlantic City, essentially because he fears for Hopkins’ safety.

Roach, who suffers from Parkinson’s syndrome that he attributes to having boxed for too long, said he saw some things during Hopkins’ razor-close loss to Joe Calzaghe in April that alarmed him.

“Four times in that fight he walked to the wrong corner after the end of the round,” Roach said. “One time they showed it on TV and made a joke about him looking for the ring card girls, but it happened four times. Why do you go to the wrong corner four times? Something’s not right, because Calzaghe hadn’t buzzed him.”

I don’t remember Hopkins going to the wrong corner even once, nor the broadcasters joking about it. But then, I did have trouble finding the number to order the pay-per-view show and even once I had it, kept getting caught in an endless automated loop. Took me a good 20 minutes to figure it out. I hate those things.

I’ll take Freddie’s word that it happened. I don’t know why Hopkins walked to the wrong corner and couldn’t contact him before deadline to ask (okay, I lost his number and then forgot that I’d lost it and by then it was too late). But I did spend about three hours with him recently at a gym in Philadelphia, and, aside from the fact he inadvertently left his Blackberry in a local coffee shop and had to run out to retrieve it, he seemed as sharp as ever.

That we were delayed while he looked for his phone worked out well for me. I used the time to scribble some notes that I had forgotten to take earlier. Plus, I had taken a wrong turn (even though I had been there three times before) and was 20 minutes late getting to the gym.

When not scribbling completely indecipherable notes, I repeatedly patted my pants pocket to make sure I hadn’t left my cell phone somewhere. I hadn’t. I congratulated myself over and over.

Anyway, Roach knows so much more than I do about these things that ordinarily I would give him the benefit of the doubt—if I hadn’t just spent time with Hopkins. So I typed up an e-mail to Ring colleague and friend Dr. Margaret Goodman, the highly respected former Nevada State Athletic Commission Medical Advisory Board chairman and chief ringside physician.

After some first-paragraph chitchat, I started to dive into the reason for my e-mail, but then forgot what it was. It took a while. I waited. Eventually it came. I asked what she thought of Roach’s comments.

Dr. Goodman replied that she couldn’t speculate on Hopkins’ condition because she hadn’t examined him in a very long while. She did allow that, “it is concerning to see any fighter with Bernard’s age, history, and recent record continue to compete.”

She wrote that she too was concerned with Freddie’s comments and that, “Few understand as well as Freddie what the ravages of this sport can do. You have to take what he says seriously.”

I do take Roach seriously. It would be foolhardy not to. I also know that I’m a year younger than Bernard and it took me four tries to spell “inadvertently” correctly above. I lost my keys twice this year, I can’t remember anyone’s name, and frequently call my daughters by their sister’s names. I walk into a room and forget what I’m there to get or do. I can’t remember if I let the dog in. My vocabulary shrinks daily.

And it’s not just me. All my 40-ish friends and family are in the same boat. That’s all we talk about anymore. I’m waiting for the day when I forget how to operate the toaster or start my car. It won’t be long.

Walking to the wrong corner in a heated, high-pressure fight? I think that’s forgivable.

Postscript: After corresponding with Dr. Goodman, I meant to send her a thank-you e-mail as a courtesy, but four days later couldn’t recall if I had. “Did I reply to this?” I wrote. “I don’t remember.” Alas, I had not.

Go get ’em, Bernard.

Some miscellaneous observations from last week:

As a broadcaster, Nate Campbell makes a hell of a lightweight.

To answer Joe Tessitore’s question about how long Carl Daniels should continue fighting: for as long as he wants to and can keep passing the physicals.

So what are the sticking points in the proposed Manny Pacquiao-Oscar De La Hoya fight—how big the lifts can be in Pacquiao’s shoes?

Zuri Lawrence doesn’t beat guys; he annoys them into losing.

Wouldn’t Shane Mosley-Ricardo Mayorga sell without Mayorga dragging out his tired and very contrived bad-boy act?

First order of business for Lou DiBella regarding just-signed Kermit Cintron: Stay the hell away from Antonio Margarito.

When Shannon Briggs is at ringside watching guys throw more than three punches a round, do you think he gets lung-envy?

Tavoris Cloud comes to hurt you, which leads me quite naturally to the question: When can we see him again?

Bill can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.

JOSE LUIS CASTILLO: QUITTING A PIECE AT A TIME (August 4, 2008)

By William Dettloff

Jose Luis Castillo’s loss on Friday night to Sebastian Lujan may or may not mark the end of his career, but certainly it marks the end of his days a world-class prizefighter. It’s unfortunate that those two sad milestones rarely coincide, but that’s the way it goes in this business.

It’s worth noting how frequently it is that a top fighter’s long run is halted by guys like Lujan—appreciably under-talented and average in most ways, but industrious in the ring. It’s almost never the big puncher or the speedster that does in these older guys, but the guy with the high energy level. The old-timers just can’t keep up.

It’s always some young bull like Lujan who still has his heart in the game, who hasn’t been successful enough yet to have seen how getting to the top doesn’t really change anything. Lujan still thinks that if he can win a few big fights, maybe even get a belt around his waist, the world will be perfect, and he’ll live happily ever after in it. That dream keeps us all getting up in the morning.

You can bet Castillo used to think that way. Back when he was Julio Cesar Chavez’ sparring partner, you can be sure he thought that if he could achieve just a fraction of what his boss did, he’d have it made. Win a title or two, fight on HBO a few times, make his money and get out. He could go back to school, buy a small business, all the stuff fighters think they’re going to do when they get out of the game.

Castillo did very well for himself and couldn’t have known that it all would climax with a loss, that his magnificent war with Diego Corrales, inarguably one of the great fights in recent years, would, for the most part, be it.

I can’t claim to know what was going on in Castillo’s head when he came in overweight for the rematch with Corrales, or when it happened again ahead of the rubber match, which was then canceled. I defended Castillo then, but it became harder to when the same thing happened in March, before he was scheduled to fight Timothy Bradley.

I will say that he and Corrales shouldn’t have been fighting at 135 to begin with, and that this business is dangerous enough without its participants showing up for combat emaciated and dehydrated. It is also highly unlikely that any of it would have happened if we were using same-day weigh-ins, as we should be.

We should remember, too, that in contests as big as the Corrales sequels were, rarely do the fighters have much say in the particulars. The bigger decisions are made by the guys with the suits and lawyers and big houses. They pull the strings. Then they pay someone to tell the fighter. And the fighter shuts up and goes to the gym.

It’s worth considering that as hard as this game is, it’s even harder to quit, and when the pressure is too much, some guys find a way to quit just a little at a time. Cold turkey is hard with anything. It might be that Castillo lost something that night he and Corrales went to hell and back, and after that, the best he could do was to quit in pieces, just a bit at a time.

We should hope the loss to Lujan was the final piece.

Some miscellaneous observations from last week:

My first thought when Robert Byrd stopped the Joshua Clottey-Zab Judah fight was, “Hide the ring stools!” I shouldn’t have worried; according to the ringside physician, Judah told him he couldn’t see and failed the eye tests after the doctor wiped the blood away. Now why would that be?

On a related note, I suppose it was inevitable that the California State Athletic Commission would rule the James Toney-Hasim Rahman fight a no-decision. They have to follow the rules, even when the rules are absurd.

Why does Judah start every fight these days looking like himself and then end it looking like Russell Simmons?

How exactly was sparring with fortysomething ex-featherweight champ Kevin Kelley supposed to prepare Judah for Clottey?

Received a lot of mail asking how in the world I could maintain after the Margarito-Cotto fight that Cotto would beat Floyd Mayweather and Margarito would not. One has nothing to do with the other. If you don’t know by now that styles make fights, you might be at the wrong website.

I don’t care if he weighs less than one of Wladimir Klitschko’s boxing shoes; I defy you to name anyone who is as pure a puncher as is Vic Darchinyan. Or anyone who looks as likely to have a secret dungeon in his basement that he keeps for “guests.”

It’s inevitable—sooner or later we’re going to see the ubiquitous Miguel Diaz working both corners of the same fight.

If you can’t get enough of Al Bernstein—and really, who can?—check out his boxing channel at ibnsports.com.

So Don King lost his $2.5-billion libel suit against ESPN. Ruling in ESPN’s favor, Judge Robert Rosenberg observed that ESPN “was not reasonably required to continue its investigation until it found somebody who would defend the plaintiffs.” Of course not—they’d still be looking!

Speaking of the patently ridiculous, fightnews.com reported that WBC kingpin Jose Sulaiman has issued a plea to Dr. Ching-Kuo Wu, the new president of the International Amateur Boxing Association. Sulaiman wants the boxing judges at the upcoming Olympic Games in Beijing to “devote themselves absolutely to the principles of honesty, impartiality, competency …” In other words, to conduct themselves in such a way as to disqualify themselves from ever being associated with the WBC.

Bill can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.

HAPPY DAYS IN MEXICO (July 28, 2008)

By William Dettloff

There are some happy Mexican and Mexican-American fight fans out there right now, and not just because Antonio Margarito beat Miguel Cotto on Saturday night, in the process defying not only the oddsmakers, but myriad fight writers, including this one.

As important as was Margarito’s victory is the way it was achieved. Margarito didn’t outbox Cotto. He didn’t blow him out. He didn’t cut him up (as a means of winning, at least). He didn’t squeak by him or outslug him or outlast him. He didn’t win because Cotto broke his hand or hates his uncle.

He out-willed him. Out-manned him, if you like. He made him submit.

It may be that too much was made in the buildup of the Mexico-Puerto Rican rivalry. But there could be no sweeter ending for those on the Mexican side of the fence than the sight of a bloodied and debilitated Cotto, already down once, backing across the ring and taking a knee in the 11th round, without having been hit.

It was clearly a capitulation, an admission by Cotto that he could no longer fight, that Margarito was better than he—better, stronger, tougher. But mostly tougher.

It was made all the more significant by how well Cotto had done over the fight’s first half, how he had hit Margarito with virtually any punch he wanted to.

Indeed, most of the first six rounds seemed like replays of those prior: Margarito storms in, throws nine punches and lands two. Cotto spins to his left and bangs home a clean left-hook, right-hand combination on the way out. Occasionally he rams a jab through Margarito’s gloves or cracks him with an uppercut.

Given Cotto’s obvious edges in hand speed and skill, his supporters had to feel good early on, except for the troubling circumstance that no matter how hard he hit Margarito, and no matter how often, Margarito never faltered. He never hesitated.

He could take Cotto’s best. Cotto could not take his.

And over the fight’s latter half, even as Cotto continue to land the type of bombs that had rendered other fighters—good ones too—bleeding, grimacing pacifists, Margarito was wearing him down, his steady pressure forcing Cotto to work harder than he wanted to.

And then it ended because, as HBO’s Max Kellerman very aptly put it, Cotto, Puerto Rico’s next great hope, who has made a career breaking other men’s will, had his own will broken. And not by just anyone. By a fighter who calls Tijuana home.

If you’re Mexican, it doesn’t get any better than that.

Some miscellaneous observations from last week:

A note to our friends at Friday Night Fights: Is our sport so bereft of likable personalities that Sean Landeta, a bland as hell former footballer (and a punter at that), is considered a worthy in-studio co-host? Poor Brian Kenny. Who will be sitting beside him next week, a jar of mayonnaise?

That said, it was fun to see clips of Renaldo Snipes at the old Felt Forum. How come we never see those on ESPN Classic?

As long as Buddy McGirt’s kid keeps fighting guys who can’t hit, he’ll do all right.

I don’t know for sure what’s behind Jeff Lacy’s assertion that boxing is a “dirty business” (well, duh!), but I have a hunch he wasn’t expecting such a hard fight from Epifiano Mendoza and was mad he didn’t get a softer touch. Jeff, the better you are, the worse everyone else is. The inverse is also true.

Is there a cutman left anymore who isn’t “one of the best in the business”?

I still say Cotto beats Floyd Mayweather. And Mayweather beats Margarito.

The next time you see Cotto in the news, it will be to announce the name of his new trainer.

Congratulations to Joe Calzaghe, whose streak of big fights not postponed by injury ends at two.

Bill can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.

DISCOUNTING MARGARITO (July 21, 2008)

By William Dettloff

In a recent poll of boxing media types, 47 out of 60 respondents predicted Miguel Cotto will beat Antonio Margarito in Las Vegas on Saturday night.

Most predicted a good, hard fight, but I’m surprised so few picked Margarito. With these numbers, you’d think Cotto was fighting Paulie Malignaggi again, or Oktay Urkal.

Have we all forgotten how relentless and strong Margarito was against Kermit Cintron—both times? How he walked through Cintron’s best shots and overwhelmed him? How he almost willed out a late win over Paul Williams after giving away the first half of the fight?

Have we forgotten about him punching most of Sebastian Lujan’s ear off his head, or the way he blew out a still spry Golden Johnson? Do you think Joshua Clottey has forgotten about Margarito?

Just as importantly, have we forgotten about the way Cotto wobbled around against Demarcus Corley and, to a lesser degree, Zab Judah, and was maybe a punch away from losing to Ricardo Torres? About how close was his decision win over a past his prime Shane Mosley, and how he decelerated over the second half of the fight?

You can make a strong case for Margarito in this fight. He’s much taller than Cotto, he has a significantly longer reach, he’s always in condition, and his chin is iron. Also, there’s not a hungrier fighter on the planet than Margarito, whose paydays have never been commensurate with his skills.

It would not shock me to see him walk from his corner and stop Cotto in the first round. He’s that dangerous.

I like Cotto to win anyway. Not because he’s the best bodypuncher in the game, or because he’s a harder hitter than Margarito (though he is both of those). But because of his jab and because he can box. In the end, that’s what will count.

Some miscellaneous observations from last week:

The news that Kelly Pavlik will be meeting Bernard Hopkins in October has been met with incredulity by some and derision by others. Me? I like it. Pavlik is a young, strong kid and a heck of a middleweight. but he’s never been in with anyone remotely as smart and tricky as Hopkins, even this 43-year-old version. I say he’s got his hands full.

As dissatisfying as was James Toney’s victory over Hasim Rahman, it was exactly right to call it a TKO rather than a no-contest. Why? Rahman chose not to fight anymore; that makes him the loser. If the ringside doctor said the cut was too bad for the fight to continue (it wasn’t), then a no-decision would have been the right call.

That wasn’t the case. Rahman had the same look on his face that he did when Evander Holyfield made him look like he had a Lincoln Navigator on his forehead. The look said: “Get me out of here.” If a fighter surrenders, he loses. I know that’s not what the rules say. The rules are wrong.

Speaking of Toney-Rahman, I received mail from several readers who were irate that Fox advertised it as a “heavyweight title fight.” My reaction? Yawn. What do you expect? Boxing has done this to itself, with the full and puzzling support of many members of the boxing media. You know who you are.

Another steroid scandal in cycling. Where’s the outrage?

If you believe in a higher power, such as Jesus Christ, Hashem, Allah, Buddha, the sun, or Joe Pesci, now might be a nice time to drop in a good word for Oscar Diaz. More proof that the head isn’t made for getting punched.

I’d try to think up some clever line about Brett Favre’s comeback, but that would imply that I care.

We all know Jose Canseco is a tool, but would it kill Vai Sikahema to be a little gracious in victory?

Don’t believe the rumors that Golden Boy has signed Canseco and are pushing to televise his comeback fight. Against Johnny Fairplay. On pay-per-view. Just $49.99.

Jerome Ellis made things more interesting than expected, but that’s all. Richard Gutierrez was robbed.

45,000 to 1: The prefight odds against Al Seeger finishing his fight against Yuriorkis Gamboa in any way that did not involve him snoring.

Please, someone tell me junior lightweight Kengo Nagashima’s knockout of Hiroto Takeshita in Japan was sponsored by Metamucil.

Bill can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.

WHAT DO WE WANT FROM WLADIMIR KLITSCHKO? (July 14, 2008)

By William Dettloff

The day might come, after Wladimir Klitschko is retired from prizefighting and is a successful and wealthy businessman or playboy in Ukraine or Germany, when we finally appreciate him.

It’s not unheard of in boxing, of course, for a man’s reputation to improve almost immediately upon his retirement or departure from the world stage. The modern-day poster boy for this phenomenon? Larry Holmes. There are other examples, of course.

Evander Holyfield is treated like a deity today. But no one was singing his praises when George Foreman and Holmes, two old men, took him the distance. Or when Bert Copper, an under-achieving late substitute, almost knocked him out.

Our friends at HBO can’t fawn over Lennox Lewis fast enough today, but when he was struggling with Frank Bruno and Zeljko Mavrovic, and getting pancaked by Oliver McCall and Hasim Rahman, many thought him the very picture of mediocrity.

Both Holyfield and Lewis had big moments after early failures—Holyfield against Riddick Bowe and Mike Tyson, Lewis against a long string of challengers over two reigns—but the point remains that they are considered royalty today and that wasn’t nearly the case when they were still in the thick of things.

Klitschko has won 50 professional fights, 45 by knockout, has beaten a slew of top-10 contenders, and ducks no one. He owns a bunch of alphabet titles, has for several years been considered the best heavyweight in the business. He has an Olympic gold medal, many riches, a nice HBO contract, and the respect of his peers. He’d be the betting favorite over any heavyweight in the world.

So what’s not to like?

Well, for starters, the kayo losses to Ross Purrity, Corrie Sanders, and Lamon Brewster. Then there’s the way his eyes bug out when he gets hit, how they betray his inner panic. How he’s always gasping for breath by the fifth round, unless he controls the fight with the jab and nothing else and puts us all to sleep. How content he seems just to win, but not to thrill.

In the early going against Tony Thompson on Saturday, Klitschko looked shocked and not a little unsettled by Thompson’s willingness to stand right in front of him and trade punches. But he fought through a bad cut over his right eye, wore Thompson down, and took him out with a booming right hand.

He could have done a lot worse against a big, awkward, determined southpaw. A lot of guys wouldn’t have gotten through it the way he did.

Still, we yawn.

What does he have to do to win our hearts?

I confess: I’m not sure. But I’ll know it when I see it.

Some miscellaneous observations from last week:

That Julio Cesar Chavez Jr. struggled so mightily with clubfighter Matt Vanda (who last year lost a wide decision to The Contender’s Anthony Bonsante) does not speak well for Chavez or for those who have been touting him—myself included.

My general apathy toward Manny Pacquiao notwithstanding, I’m happy to see him against either Humberto Soto or Edwin Valero. Either one is a wonderful fight.

Reports out of Illinois are that the Chicago arm of PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) is upset with middleweight Derrick Findley, who on Friday night was seen on ESPN2 clubbing a harmless stork into submission.

Speaking of that card, someone should be asking how it was that Eric Boose managed to miss so many right hands before being stopped by lumbering behemoth Mariusz Wach. Virtually every right hand Boose threw went around Wach’s left shoulder, which is no small feat considering Wach’s head is roughly the size of a Mini Cooper, and far more stationary. What gives?

I know he screwed over Adrian Diaconu, but isn’t it fun that Chad Dawson told the WBC to go screw? Good for him.

Why is it that when discussing Klitschko’s previous failings, the folks at HBO never mention his kayo loss to Purrity?

By this time next week we will have seen the last of either Hasim Rahman or James Toney in a televised fight. It’s time.

Bill can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.

THE WBC: AT IT AGAIN (July 7, 2008)

By William Dettloff

In late-June, rumors made their way around the Internet that Jose Sulaiman, the ageless, shameless gnome who has led the WBC through Buster Douglas, bankruptcy, and, impossibly, his own induction into the International Boxing Hall of Fame, was considering mandating a new rule concerning WBC “title” fights: 40-year-olds need not apply.

Maybe it was in response to the Jeff Fenech-Azumah Nelson fight a couple of weeks back. Maybe, as some have suggested, it is ultimately about the formation of a “senior league” that the WBC can shepherd into existence and whose own distinct title fights it can then sanction—for a fee, of course.

Frequent readers of this column know that I share none of the queasiness around “old” guys fighting one another that many of my colleagues express. I saw nothing wrong with Fenech and Nelson, at 43 and 49 years old, respectively, renewing hostilities. They’re both grown men, and then some. I’d be willing to bet that being in the ring against one another was the most fun either one had in 10 years. So I have nothing against a senior league in boxing.

It goes farther than that, though. Sulaiman’s alleged plan to prohibit fighters older than 39 from contesting for the WBC’s “regular” titles (such as they are) is obvious age discrimination. We’ve covered this ground before: If a fighter can pass all the tests that are required of him or her to get into the ring, he or she should be permitted to—otherwise, why have physicals in the first place?

The knee-jerk response to Sulaiman’s proposal is, “If that rule were always in place, Archie Moore and George Foreman never would have achieved what they did.” That’s true, but it’s only part of the story, and besides, any one of Sulaiman’s lawyers would counter by saying that you can’t weigh the safety of thousands of fighters against the anomalies that were Moore and Foreman.

The age at which athletes can perform at a high level has risen dramatically over the last decade, and forget about all the 35-plus-year-old world-class fighters; last week a 41-year-old mother qualified to be on the U.S. Olympic swimming team. What will 40-year-old boxers be able to do in a decade, assuming that by then Sulaiman and his brethren haven’t run the sport into the ground?

If a 40-year-old fighter works his way up to a big fight, does what he’s supposed to do, passes his physicals, and can take care of business in the ring, he should be afforded the same treatment as any other fighter—including a screwing by Sulaiman and his henchmen in a title fight.

If you think the whole idea seems too outlandish to ever see the light of day, remember that title fights used to be 15 rounds. And keep your fingers crossed that we don’t ever see some beloved old icon—Evander Holyfield, for instance—get really hurt in the ring. If we do, Sulaiman, with the full endorsement of the American Medical Association and opportunistic politicians everywhere, will know just what to do.

Some miscellaneous observations from last week:

Many thanks to the readers who reminded me, in response to last week’s column, that Manny Pacquiao did indeed once sign a promotional contract with Murad Muhammad. See? I knew there was a reason I don’t like him.

Congratulations to Kendall Holt for his dramatic first-round stoppage of Ricardo Torres, who had no defense for Holt’s charging-headbutt, right-cross combination. It looked to me like the headbutt did more damage than did the right that followed.

Speaking of Torres, in my view he had every right to clock Holt when Holt bounced up without a count following the second knockdown. It’s not Torres’ fault Jay Nady wasn’t close enough to the action to get between them. Holt was on his feet, within striking distance. That makes him fair game. What was Torres supposed to do, stand there looking at him until Nady got there?

So John Ruiz is meeting Nicolay Valuev for the “regular” WBA heavyweight title. Say it with me: “John Ruiz: three-time world heavyweight champion.” Have we all been lobotomized or something?

James Lubash remind anyone else of a young, deaf Kelly Pavlik?

Some late random comments concerning the Pacquiao-David Diaz undercard from June 28:

I don’t know which was more fun—watching Steve Luevano and Mario Santiago knock the hell out of one another, or counting the number of times Emanuel Steward called Santiago “San Diego.” I stopped at 19. (By the way, from my couch I scored the fight a draw.)

I hate as much as anyone how the Humberto Soto-Francisco Lorenzo fight turned out, and Lorenzo was clearly trying to draw the disqualification, ala Luis Santana. The relevant and unfortunate fact is if Soto hadn’t hit him when he was down, Lorenzo wouldn’t have had the chance.

Either way, it was great entertainment watching Lorenzo bleed out on the canvas while the ringside physician, rubber gloves and stethoscope at the ready, calmly conferred with Joe Cortez and Keith Kizer about how the fight might be ruled.

Lorenzo had just received a “concussive” blow to the back of the head and was spewing blood like an extra on the set of Saving Private Ryan, and as far as the camera showed, there wasn’t a physician within 10 feet of him. I imagine it’s a bitch getting human plasma out of $1,000 suit.

Good for David Diaz for his sparkling postfight interview, and for Jim Lampley for not tensing up at the repeated F-bombs. This is why people pay for HBO (not to mention pay-per-view). Well, that and the riveting documentaries, compelling dramas, and gratuitous nudity. Speaking of which, are we back to boycotting round card girls?

The really wondrous thing is that Bob Arum found 41 guys Tye Fields could beat.

Bill can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.

NO LOVE FOR PACQUIAO (June 30, 2008)

By William Dettloff

All right, I confess: I’ve never been a big fan of Manny Pacquiao. I’ve frequently asked myself, as you no doubt are right now, why the hell not, you jackass? What’s not to like?

There are many reasons to dislike a fighter: He fights bums, he doesn’t fight often enough, he’s a jerk, he’s dull, he wears a mullet, he signed a contract with Murad Muhammad, he’s too damned wealthy, he’s a religious zealot, a hypocrite, or a lousy interview, he digs NASCAR, he’s a crybaby, or his wife/baby mama is too hot.

None of that applies to Pacquiao (except, on occasion, the mullet—worn Filipino style).

There are more: He’s all mouth and no balls, he’s all connections and no heart, he’s too skinny or too good looking, too chubby to be as good as he is or too much of what you wish you were. He’s overrated. He’s too talented or not talented enough, too educated, too in love with chickens or refers to himself in the third person, too much of an arm-puncher, too damned white, or has weird body hair.

Still not Pacquiao.

He’s too smug or not confident enough, too tormented or too placid. He gets injured too easily. He’s a slick southpaw or he has no defense, he has a glass chin or is dead from the neck up. He beat your favorite fighter. His voice is too high. He just looks evil. It comes too easy for him. He's awkward.

He doesn’t care enough about the sport to get himself into decent shape or he’s a cheating, old school disrespecting steroid user (or both), has too many tattoos, or is an “athlete” who couldn’t make it in other sports and fell into boxing as a last resort. He wears hair extensions. He drives an IROC Z.

The list goes on.

Pacquiao fits none of these descriptions. In fact, he’s everything I like in a fighter: He’s a puncher, and if you didn’t know that prior to seeing him pole-ax David Diaz Saturday night, you knew it after.

He fights anybody. Juan Manuel Marquez and Marco Antonio Barrera twice each, Erik Morales three times, for cripes sake. He fights through blood, knockdowns, weird “glove related” losses, and with the hopes of an entire nation riding on his hairless, tattoo-free back.

He’s humble. He’s soft-spoken. He doesn’t rely on shtick. He doesn’t gloat or boast or do somersaults in the ring or pull out of fights claiming spastic colon. No sequin trunks. No crying to the referee. No 17 baby mamas, no mansions in foreclosure (not yet, anyway), no steroid scandals, no sermons, no string of close, suspicious decision wins. No bull. All fighter.

All that and yet, I was near giddy watching Jorge Solis take the early rounds from him in their match in April 2007, and felt deflated when Pacquiao stormed back to stop him. I’ve never rooted for him the way I have others. Not even against Diaz.

I don’t get it either. It might be that I have no patience for perfection.

Some random observations from last week:

There might not be a funnier knockout all year than Tye Fields’ first-round collapse against the well-worn Monte Barrett. If it’s any consolation for Bob Arum, we all knew it was coming sooner or later.

If Kendall Holt fights Ricardo Torres in their rematch the way he “fought” Ben Tackie, two things will happen: Holt will win a decision, and I will fall asleep by the fifth round.

So Ruslan Chagaev is injured again. Who does he think he is, Vitali Klitschko?

I’m glad Joe Calzaghe is pushing forward with a fight against Roy Jones, because it’s an interesting fight, but let’s get this out of the way before the promotional push starts: Jones isn’t half the fighter he was 10 years ago. We all know that going into it, right?

Bill can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.

ABRAHAM VS. PAVLIK BEGINS TO PERCOLATE (June 23, 2008)

By Nigel Collins

Maybe middleweight champion Kelly Pavlik should stop scanning the horizon for future opponents and start looking over his shoulder. There’s another balding white guy gaining on him.

Germany-based Armenian Arthur Abraham, the number-one contender in the division that Pavlik rules, underlined the authenticity of his status on Saturday night with a third-round hosing of Colombian flamethrower Edison Miranda. What is more, he made it look easy.

Considering that Miranda broke Abraham’s jaw in their first fight, the Armenian’s almost casual dismissal of the only man to ever threaten his unbeaten record was impressive. Moreover, he didn’t need any help from bumbling officials this time.

Instead of his adopted Germany, Abraham, fighting outside of Europe for the first time in his pro career, was on Miranda’s Florida turf for their much-anticipated rematch. If his game was as phony as the cheesy crown “King Arthur” favors for ring walks and publicity photos, the rampaging Miranda would expose him as mere pretender to the throne.

Abraham didn’t do much punching during the early going, preferring to hide behind a thicket of gloves and arms. But when he opened up in the fourth, Miranda was quickly overwhelmed by a series of explosive headshots that floored him three times in less than two minutes.

The winner could not have asked for a better performance with which to introduce himself to an American audience. Germany, like the UK, is currently experiencing a boxing renaissance, and like the Brits, the best of Germany want to make a splash on the western side of the Atlantic. There are limitations to being a Continental sensation, and besides, the 160-pound world champion is an American.

Pavlik, fresh from an easy kayo of Wales’ Gary Lockett, has yet to select his next opponent. Damned near everybody from John Duddy to Joe Calzaghe have been mentioned, and late last week word filtered down to the media that Pavlik’s promoter, Bob Arum, had been talking to Golden Boy Promotions’ Richard Schaefer about a Pavlik-Bernard Hopkins fight.

Oddly enough, nobody seems to talking about Pavlik-Abraham—not even Team Abraham!

No sooner had Miranda been scraped off the canvas than promoter Leon Margules announced that Abraham would face former IBF junior middleweight titleholder Raul Marquez. The bout will take place in either October or November, depending on how long it takes for Marquez’ cuts to heal following his ballsy, blood-splattered upset of previously undefeated Giovanni Lorenzo on the undercard.

Nobody really thinks that the 36-year-old Marquez, who put a promising broadcasting career on the backburner to launch a quixotic comeback in 2006, has much of a chance to beat Abraham. Still, the match will further whet the appetite for an eventual Pavlik-Arthur showdown—a fight that just might ultimately prove a bigger threat to the middleweight champion than larger, more glamorous prey lurking a few pounds north.

Some miscellaneous thoughts from last week:

The series of upsets that have enlivened ESPN2’s recent broadcast continued on the Friday Night Fights when heavyweight journeyman Friday Ahunanya won a unanimous decision over previously unbeaten Alonzo Butler. But is there some rule that says Carmen Basilio’s name has to be invoked every time a guy has his eye swollen shut?

I’m not sure which I enjoyed most during Marvin Hagler’s latest stint as Brian Kenny’s studio guest: the vintage footage of his fights against Philly’s middleweight murderer’s row of Bennie Briscoe, Willie Monroe, and Bobby Watts (all of which I was fortunate enough to cover), or the more recent video of Marvelous Marvin shooting hoops with underprivileged kids in Morocco.

Question of the week: Is there an active heavyweight who’s more fun to watch than Chris Arreola?

“I love to get punched,” Arreola said after pummeling Chazz Witherspoon into defeat in a free-swinging battle of undefeated heavyweights. “It’s not a fight if I don’t get punched.” His enthusiasm for combat is just what the division needs, and despite the poorly handled conclusion of the Witherspoon bout, which gave Arreola a DQ win instead of a TKO, the ungainly Mexican-American slugger is turning into an unlikely attraction.

The fact that the WBC failed to find anybody better than unproven Andre Berto and clubfighter Miguel “Miki” Rodriguez to fight for the welterweight title vacated by Floyd Mayweather says all you need to know about the alphabet organization’s total lack of credibility. Sure, Berto is a good prospect with a nice upside, but he’s done nothing to merit jumping ahead of Miguel Cotto, Paul Williams, Shane Mosley, Antonio Margarito, and others fighters more accomplished than he in the talent-rich 147-pound division.

And while on the subject of the vacant welterweight title, those trumpeting the winner of the upcoming Cotto-Margarito bout as the new champion seem to be suffering from a convenient case of amnesia. Hey, fellows, Williams beat Margarito less than a year ago! If you don’t believe me, look it up.

Nigel Collins can be contacted by clicking on the “Ask The Editors” feature, on the left-hand side of the homepage.

LIFE AFTER MAYWEATHER (June 16, 2008)

By William Dettloff

A school of thought has come into existence since Floyd Mayweather announced his retirement that holds that boxing can only suffer as a result. You can see where it comes from.

Mayweather was one half of the cast of the richest fight ever and a star on HBO’s excellent 24/7 series. His knockout of Ricky Hatton, as predictable as it was, was another huge event. The rematch with Oscar De La Hoya would have done mammoth numbers, as would have a presumed rematch with Hatton, as distasteful a thought as that is.

Also, Mayweather had crossed over—Dancing with the Stars, a WWE pay-per-view appearance, concert promotion. In a sport as desperate as ever for stars, particularly American ones, Mayweather broke through, but instead of using that appeal to prop up boxing’s mainstream presence, he’s bowed out, leaving the job to other, less gifted marketers.

Before you start banging the Boxing is Dead drum, here’s a newsflash: the fight game will survive without Floyd Mayweather.

The biggest downer is that the sport is losing its most skilled practitioner. Mayweather was the best prizefighter around. Period. He wasn’t nearly as great as he thinks he was—in the pantheon of classical boxers you don’t have to go back any farther than Pernell Whitaker to find someone better—but he was the best of his era.

When any sport loses its best athlete, it hurts. It also doesn’t help much that by retiring he hastened Oscar De La Hoya’s departure; he says he now will fight just once more before retiring.

Still, how much did Mayweather’s “appeal"” help boxing? His fights with De La Hoya and Hatton were as huge as they were primarily because of, well, De La Hoya and Hatton. Mayweather needed the right guys to break through and De La Hoya and Hatton were the right guys.

Also, it is tremendously helpful to a sport’s image if its best participant does two things: competes against his top challengers, and at least occasionally excites the masses when performing. As we all know, Mayweather was loath to face any other top welterweights—hence the upcoming Miguel Cotto-Antonio Margarito match—and in recent years had become increasingly safety conscious.

I’m all for a guy protecting himself in the ring. There’s nothing wrong with that; the afore-mentioned Whitaker was a genius at it. It’s just that that kind of style will never appeal to the masses. So in this instance the masses aren’t losing much.

I wish Mayweather well in retirement and hope that his various other ventures are sufficient to fill the large void that certainly will be left in his life without boxing. When you are as good at something as he is at boxing, it defines you. I hope he finds another way to define himself and also that he discovers that exceedingly rare commodity, peace of mind.

And if he doesn’t? Well, there’s nothing better for business than an old star making a comeback.

Some miscellaneous thoughts from last week: