Wilder’s ring skills have also come under attack.
“I fight with my heart,” Deontay has said in response to the criticism. “I fight with my will. Forget skills. Skills ain’t got me nowhere in life.”
In an effort to silence his critics, Wilder signed to fight Luis Ortiz (27–0, 23 KOs) on November 4, 2017, at Barclays Center in a bout to be televised by Showtime. Ortiz a thirty-eight-year-old Cuban expatriate now living in Florida, looked his best in demolishing Bryant Jennings on a seventh-round knockout two years ago. But he hadn’t done much since then, and the prevailing view was that age might be catching up with him.
There was the usual smack-talking after the fight was announced.
“Somebody better endorse the bottom of Ortiz’s shoes,” Wilder advised the media, “because he’ll be on his back, staring at the ceiling, and they’ll be seeing both of them at the end of this fight.”
And of course, the usual hyperbole.
“Deontay Wilder versus Luis Ortiz is the best heavyweight championship fight that was makable this year,” promoter Lou DiBella proclaimed.
That left open the question of where Anthony Joshua vs. Wladimir Klitschko (which drew ninety thousand fans and was televised by two American premium cable networks) ranked in DiBella’s thought processes. But the matter became moot when Ortiz tested positive for chlorothiazide and hydrochlorothiazide (both of which are banned under the World Anti-Doping Agency code) and Wilder–Ortiz was cancelled.
Then, in place of Ortiz, the promotion substituted Bermane Stiverne.
Fighting largely against the usual suspects, Stiverne had compiled a 25-and-2 (21 KOs) record. He won the WBC heavyweight belt by knocking out a badly faded Chris Arreola in 2014 and lost it to Wilder in his next outing. His other loss was a knockout defeat at the hands of a 11-and-15 fighter named Demetrice King. Stiverne is thirty-nine years old. He’d fought only once since losing to Wilder (a controversial win by decision over Derric Rossy two years ago). Somehow, that qualified him to be the mandatory challenger for Wilder’s WBC title.
WBC president Mauricio Sulaiman told reporters at the final pre-fight press conference, “Whoever thinks this is not the best championship fight that can be made in the heavyweight division is wrong.”
But in truth, Wilder–Stiverne was a fight that no one except Team Stiverne and the WBC had much interest in seeing.
Wilder has voiced resentment in recent months over the fact that the American public hasn’t gotten behind him the way that the Brits support Anthony Joshua and other nations supported Vitali and Wladimir Klitschko.
“I’m the best, hardest-punching, most feared heavyweight in the world,” Deontay declared at an October 14 media sit-down. “I don’t have to put punches together. It’s one punch, goodnight. Tell your favorite fighter to come see me.”
Wilder also referenced the hardships of boxing, observing, “A lot of people say what I can’t do, but they’re not me. They don’t train. They don’t bust their ass every day in the gym, lay in the bed and you can’t really get a good position to sleep because your body is so sore.”
The promotion sought to infuse drama into Wilder–Stiverne by noting that Stiverne was the only opponent who’d gone the distance with Wilder. Bermane, in turn, said he’d lost to Deontay the first time around because of unspecified health issues. That led Wilder to reply, “People don’t want to hear excuses. They want a winner and they want a loser. The facts are the facts. The person that loses, nobody wants to hear the reason. They just want to hear you say, ‘Hey, I admit it. I lost, but I’m gonna try my best the next time.’ People respect that. People don’t like a loser that contradicts themselves. One minute, you’re good, you’re healthy. You’re talking so confidently. And then, when the time to fight happens, all of a sudden something just so dramatically happens in the ring.”
Then Stiverne upped the ante, telling the media at the final pre-fight press conference, “One thing that really caught my attention—and I don’t really pay attention to social media and all that stuff—is that he said that he fears for my life.” At that point, Stiverne turned to face Wilder. “You fear for my life, man? You fear for my life? I don’t fear for your life because I’m a killer! If that’s what it takes for me to take that title, that’s what I’m gonna do. And I’m gonna walk away with a smile on my face.”
“I don’t have to say what I’m gonna do because I’m gonna show him,” Wilder responded. “It will be a show-and-tell on Saturday night. Like my daddy said; I’ll whup you because I love you.”
Most of the excitement in the pre-fight promotion was supplied by Don King.
King sightings in boxing are rare these days. But DK has a promotional interest in Stiverne (and also in Eric Molina, who’d been brought in as an opponent for Dominic Breazeale in an undercard fight).
King turned eighty-six in August 2017. His hair is no longer thick enough to rise dramatically toward the heavens. His frame is a bit stooped and he walks more slowly than before. The custom-made “Only in America” jacket he wears is fraying and discolored at the cuffs. But he remains a man of remarkable energy and vitality. His booming voice and high-pitched laugh still pierce the air. He commands attention wherever he goes. King might not look seventy anymore, but he doesn’t look eighty-six either.
“God has sent Bermane Stiverne to do His work,” King proclaimed at the final pre-fight press conference. “Bermane is going to do what Donald Trump did and triumph against all odds.”
The announced attendance on fight night was 10,924, but that included a lot of giveaway tickets.
Once upon a time, King would have had both fighters in the main event and controlled the undercard as well. Now he was on site with a 15-to-1 underdog (Stiverne) and a 7-to-2 long-shot (Molina).
Breazeale stopped Molina in eight rounds.
In the first Showtime bout of the evening, Sergey Lipinets (12–0, 10 KOs) and Akihiro Kondo (29–6–1, 16 KOs) battled for an IBF 140-pound belt of questionable provenance. Three of Kondo’s opponents during the past two years had records of 0–0, 0–1, and 0–0 at the time he fought them. Lipinets decisioned Kondo by a 118–110, 117–111, 117–111 margin in a fight that was closer than the scorecards indicated.
Next, Shawn Porter (27–2–1, 17 KOs) took on Adrian Granados (18–5–2, 12 KOs).
Porter came out on the short end of razor-thin decisions in his two biggest fights (against Kell Brook and Keith Thurman) and had scored victories over past-their-prime former champions Andre Berto, Paulie Malignaggi, Devon Alexander, and Adrien Broner. He’s a volume puncher whose mauling, brawling style and chin make him a tough out for anyone. If Shawn shortened his punches and placed them more judiciously, they’d be more effective.
Granados was an opponent for young fighters on the rise until 2015, when he upset an applecart by knocking out Amir Imam. That got him a fight against Adrien Broner in which he acquitted himself well but lost. Now he’s an opponent again.
This was a stay-busy fight for Porter while he waits for Keith Thurman to heal, have a comeback bout against a soft opponent, stay healthy, and then (maybe) fight Shawn again.
As expected, Porter mauled and brawled for most of the fight. Granados fought with heart and a measure of skill. But Adrian’s defense is porous, and he had nothing to keep Shawn off. Porter dominated the first ten rounds before an injured left hand led to his avoiding contact in the final two stanzas. That cut his margin of victory to 117–111, 117–111, 117–111.
Then it was time for Wilder–Stiverne.
Bermane was never svelte. He turned pro twelve years ago at 233 pounds and has entered the ring as high as 258. For his most recent outing against Derric Rossy, he weighed in at 254. Facing Wilder two years ago, he tipped the scales at 239.
For Wilder redux, Stiverne weighed in at an unsculpted 254¾ pounds. One could imagine Don King arguing, “Bermane is in shape. Round is a shape.”
Wilder weighed in at 220¾.
This time against Stiverne, Wilder
came out behind an aggressive jab and Bermane did nothing. More than a minute passed before the challenger threw his first punch, a meaningless stay-away-from-me jab that fell far short of the mark. That was followed twenty seconds later by a tentative jab in the direction of Wilder’s midsection.
Just past the two-minute mark of round one, Wilder jabbed and followed with an uncharacteristically (for him) straight right that landed smack in the center of Stiverne’s face. Bermane went down hard and rose unsteadily. Every punch Deontay threw after that seemed to come in as wide an arc as was anatomically possible. But they landed often enough and hard enough to do damage. Referee Arthur Mercante halted the carnage after the third knockdown at 2:59 of the round. CompuBox credited Stiverne with throwing four punches. He landed none.
Boxing is very much a “what have you done for me lately” business. That said, something that happened at Barclays Center on Saturday night troubled me.
Seanie Monaghan is an honest, hardworking fighter and a thoroughly decent man who has been a fixture on the New York boxing scene for years. In his last fight, he suffered the first loss of his ring career, a knockout defeat at the hands of Marcus Browne.
Monaghan began his comeback on Saturday night in an eight-round bout against Evert Bravo. One day prior to the fight, DiBella Entertainment (the promoter of record) advised Team Monaghan that Seanie’s fight might be a “swing” bout. Monaghan and company weren’t happy about it but were told they had no choice.
DiBella Entertainment didn’t control the bout order. That was decided by Showtime in conjunction with Al Haymon. Showtime didn’t care when Monaghan–Bravo was contested because it wasn’t a TV fight. The decision was made by Haymon, who had a financial stake in most of the other undercard fighters, but not in Monaghan.
P. J. Kavanagh (Monaghan’s manager) told this writer on the morning after Seanie’s fight, “We got to Barclays when they told us to, which was six o’clock. At first, we were on the list as the sixth fight of the night. Then they told us that we weren’t going on until after the Wilder fight. Seanie took it like a professional and didn’t complain. All he said was, ‘Let’s stay positive.’”
Monaghan didn’t glove up and start warming up until Wilder began his ring walk. Then, after the Wilder fight, the powers that be put another swing bout on before Monaghan–Bravo.
Here, one might add that, unlike most undercard fighters, Seanie is a good ticket seller. His team sold hundreds of tickets in bars and other outlets for his comeback fight. And that’s not counting the tickets his fans bought at the box office and online.
The bell for round one of Monaghan–Bravo didn’t ring until 12:22 a.m. The fight went the full eight rounds and ended at 12:53, with Seanie winning a unanimous decision.
“It’s the hand we were dealt and we played it,” Kavanagh says. “And Lou DiBella has been good to us. But we’ve gotten a lot of complaints from fans who felt that they and Seanie were disrespected.”
Seanie Monaghan has earned the right to be more than a walk-out bout and to know in advance what time he’s fighting. He and his fans deserved better.
“Big Baby” Takes a Baby Step Forward
Thomas Edison once observed, “Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work.”
Boxing’s heavyweight division is wide open. Anthony Joshua and Deontay Wilder—two exciting but flawed fighters—are at the top. After that, it’s anyone’s ballgame. Twenty-nine-year-old Jarrell “Big Baby” Miller (now 20–0–1, 18 KOs) wants the ball.
Miller has a massive torso, huge arms, and thighs that conjure up images of giant oak trees. Fast-twitch muscle fiber isn’t his thing. Think clubbing, heavy-handed blows.
Miller projects BIG. Big personality, big mouth, 6-feet-4-inches, close to 300 pounds of big. In 2015, he was fighting at 255 pounds. In July of this year, he weighed in at 299 to fight Gerald Washington.
Jarrell’s frame hasn’t filled out as much as it’s overflowing. He’s built more like an NFL offensive lineman than what we’re accustomed to seeing in an elite fighter. But viewers don’t walk away from the TV screen and go to the kitchen to make a sandwich when Miller is fighting. He has charisma. He hits and gets hit. He’s making noise in boxing, not just with his mouth but with his fists.
On November 11, 2017, Miller fought Mariusz Wach (33–2, 17 KOs) in the middle bout of an HBO tripleheader at Nassau Veterans Memorial Coliseum. Eddie Hearn, who promotes Joshua and has built Matchroom Boxing into the most powerful promotional company in the United Kingdom, was the man in charge. Hearn is planning to open an office in New York in 2018. This was a trial run of sorts.
Danny Jacobs (32–2, 29 KOs) vs. Luis Arias (18–0, 9 KOs) was styled as the main event. At the start of this year, Jacobs’s ring career was defined by two fights: a July 31, 2010, knockout defeat at the hands of Dmitry Pirog, and a first-round KO of Peter Quillin on December 5, 2015.
Then, at Madison Square Garden on March 18, 2017, Jacobs came out on the short end of a razor-thin decision in a middleweight-championship bout against Gennady Golovkin. One should be wary of over-evaluating fighters based on a loss. But in losing to Golovkin, Jacobs forced a reevaluation of his skills and chin, which had been questioned since the loss to Pirog.
Arias, an 8-to-1 underdog, worked hard in the pre-fight promotion to raise his profile above that of a fungible opponent.
“I’m the young kid from Wisconsin that nobody knows,” Arias told the media. “Everyone thinks I’m coming in to lose. But if you look at his record, there’s nobody there that he beat. You can build a fighter up and make him look a lot better than he really is. You keep him away from punchers. You keep him away from boxers. You keep him away from legitimate threats. The tough fights that I see, he lost. This is a mixture of me being underrated and him being overrated. Daniel Jacobs is going to be in a dogfight, a very hard fight. I’m going to rough him up and be in his face all night. I want a war.”
“It’s kind of hard to listen to him,” Jacobs said in response. “He can talk a good one. But at the end of the day, it’s about what you do inside the ring. People aren’t praising me for going twelve rounds with Gennady Golovkin. Let’s not get that confused. If they’re praising me, they’re praising me for the fact that they believe that I won the fight. Talk outside the ring is good for promotion. But then the fight starts and there are levels to this game. I’m on a much higher level than Arias.”
Meanwhile, Miller–Wach shaped up as the most intriguing fight of the night.
Miller has lived for most of his life in Brooklyn, which has led him to proclaim, “Brooklyn has a pedigree, the homestead for some of the world’s greatest heavyweight boxers. You’ve seen Riddick Bowe. You’ve seen Mike Tyson. You’ve seen Shannon Briggs. I’m next in line.”
Jarrell also advised the media, “I’m the Big Baby, but I’m going to give Wach the pacifier and put him in the crib. There is nothing like Big Baby. No one throws as many punches. And I knock people out. Trust me, I’m not worried about him. I’ll make it easy on him and get him out quick. Wach is going to be just another guy that I crush.”
That said, Wach was a good measuring stick for Miller. Mariusz’s only losses were a decision defeat at the hands of Wladimir Klitschko in 2012 and a stoppage on cuts against Alexander Povetkin in 2015. He’s not a big puncher, but he’s big (268 pounds), tall (six feet, seven inches), and durable.
“This is a big night in Jarrell Miller’s career,” Eddie Hearn said two days before the fight. “If he beats Wach, he can be a world-class heavyweight. If he destroys Wach, he can be an elite heavyweight. We’ll see what’s real and not real on Saturday night.”
Dressed in black, Jarrell Miller entered his dressing room at Nassau Coliseum on fight night at 7:50 p.m.
The room was small and irregularly shaped, fifteen feet wide and a bit longer. It looked more like a renovated studio apartment than a fighter’s dressing room.
Four cushioned, folding metal chairs were lin
ed up on a finely sanded hardwood floor. Two Formica-topped credenzas would serve as seats for most of Team Miller, including Jarrell, in the hours ahead. There was a small sink, a refrigerator, a faux fireplace, and a large TV monitor. Several framed lithographs graced the light-gray walls. A large mirror was mounted above a faux-marble vanity table at the far end of the room.
Jarrell posed for smartphone photos with several team members, sat on top of one of the credenzas, and opened a bottle of Muscle Milk protein shake.
Then he began texting.
The HBO telecast was scheduled to start at ten o’clock with Cletus Seldin vs. Roberto Ortiz in the opening bout. Miller had been told to be ready to walk by 10:15 in the event of a quick knockout.
A New York State Athletic Commission inspector led Jarrell from the dressing room to a medical tent for his final pre-fight physical. While the fighter was gone, rap artist Leonard Grant (better known as Uncle Murda) entered and took a seat. Later, he would lead Jarrell to the ring.
Jarrell returned, sat on the credenza, and resumed texting.
Trainer Harry Keitt left to watch Wach’s hands being wrapped.
There was quiet conversation. Music played intermittently depending on Jarrell’s mood of the moment. Occasionally, he sipped from a bottle of water. Just before nine o’clock, he lay down on the credenza, using his leather groin protector as a pillow, and closed his eyes.
Keitt returned.
Jarrell rose from the credenza and sat on one of the folding chairs. Assistant trainer Aureliano Sosa began taping his hands, right hand first. Ten minutes later, the task was done. Jarrell lay down on the credenza again, alternately texting and relaxing with his eyes closed.
David Fields, who would referee Miller–Wach, came in to give Jarrell his pre-fight instructions.
Eddie Hearn and Dmitriy Salita (Miller’s co-promoter) paid their respects.
At 9:40 p.m., Jarrell rose from the credenza like a man getting out of bed, took off his black track suit, and put on his boxing shoes.
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