The November 25 card was built around thirty-two-year-old Sergey Kovalev, who held the WBA, IBF, and WBO 175-pound titles until losing a disputed decision to Andre Ward in November 2016. Seven months later, Ward stopped Kovalev in round eight of a rematch.
Thereafter, Kovalev and trainer John David Jackson parted ways on less-than-good terms. Among the thoughts that Jackson offered on the separation were:
• “Sergey said a couple of things. He’s blaming me for the loss. But you can’t blame me for your loss when you quit. He quit! Once Andre started hitting him to the body, he was done.”
• “Sergey and I have been going through stuff for years because he’s a real asshole. All the Russians that I’ve trained, they’re wonderful people. This guy is a complete dick. Sergey started making money, getting big headed, and he didn’t want to train hard anymore. Every camp was worse and worse.”
• “If he comes back, he’s damaged goods. He would probably beat a couple of guys, but now they know your secret. You can’t take it to the body. You’re in trouble.”
Kovalev, for his part, responded, “The whole time I worked with John David Jackson, I got nothing from him except mitts work. I don’t want to say any bad words. He’s a nice guy, but he’s not the coach for me. A coach should help you inside the ring in between rounds when you have one minute for rest. He should say tactics, how to open the target or move to the left or right or back or forward. Because emotions and adrenaline of every fighter inside the ring is very high, fighters don’t see a lot of things [trainers] can see from the side.”
When Kovalev returned to action on Thanksgiving weekend, it was with a new trainer (Arbor Tursunpulatov) and, he professed, a new attitude.
“Life showed me that I should be more concentrated on my boxing career if I want to do this,” Sergey told the media. “I cleaned up my body and I cleaned up my mind from zero. All life is like a lesson for me. Right now, I feel all bad things are gone from my mind.”
Asked about what some thought was a premature stoppage in the Ward rematch after Andre hit him with several illegal low blows, Kovalev answered, “Better for me if Ward knocked me out to close the questions. The Ward fight was like a bad dream. Now I am awake again and must go on with my boxing career. What happened happened. Everything is good. I’m ready to get new fights and new belts again.”
Kovalev’s opponent on November 25, Vyacheslav Shabranskyy, had questionable credentials and a knockout loss to Sullivan Barrera on his ring ledger. Initially, Kovalev–Shabranskyy was scheduled for ten rounds. Then, on September 21, Andre Ward announced his retirement, freeing up the WBA, WBO, and IBF belts. On October 26, the WBO decreed that Kovalev–Shabranskyy would be for its 175-pound title.
The fight was contested in the Theater at Madison Square Garden. The announced attendance of 3,307 included more than a few giveaways. The crowd was flat to begin with. And an interminably long wait before the televised fights began (marked by loud music that didn’t appeal to any on-site demographic) didn’t help matters.
A super-featherweight matchup between Jason Sosa and Yuriorkis Gamboa was first up on HBO.
A “boring” fight isn’t boring to the fighters involved. Their health and economic future are on the line. They’re trying to beat another man senseless and, at the same time, trying to survive.
That said, Sosa–Gamboa was boring. The fans in attendance could have been sitting in a movie theater watching a documentary about pottery-making for all the noise they made.
Gamboa was a shooting star who now looks to be shot. The speed and explosive power that once marked his performances are gone.
Sosa is a one-dimensional fighter who reported to training camp thirty pounds above the contract weight and wasn’t in shape to push the action for ten rounds. But against Gamboa, Jason did some good body work from time to time and made the fight, such as it was.
Referee Ron Lipton made the correct call in two knockdown situations: first, in round three when Gamboa tumbled to the canvas after being hit by a hook to the body and tripped over Sosa’s foot; and again in round seven, when Yuriorkis’s glove touched the canvas as a consequence of his having been wobbled by a clean punch.
But Lipton has a tendency to insert himself into fights more than necessary. Gamboa held half-heartedly throughout the bout. Sosa could have punched his way out, which would have kept the action flowing. Instead, again and again, Lipton physically broke the fighters, which meant that Gamboa had more time to regroup and was incentivized to keep holding.
The consensus at ringside was that Sosa was a clear winner by a margin in the neighborhood of six points. Judge Robin Taylor’s scorecard was the first to be announced.
94–94.
That elicited a chorus of boos from the few fans who had been engaged enough to actually watch the fight.
Then Michael Buffer read the scorecards of John McKaie (95–93) and Don Trella (96–92).
For Gamboa.
Picture a fastball the bounces in the dirt three feet in front of home plate and is called “strike three” by the umpire. That was the judging in Sosa–Gamboa. The New York State Athletic Commission could have taken three people at random out of the crowd and they would have done a better job.
The next fight— a light-heavyweight matchup between Sullivan Barrera and Felix Valera—was a sloppy, foul-filled affair. Referee Mike Oretega deducted three points from Valera and one from Barrera for low blows. This time, three different judges got it right, scoring the contest 98–88, 97–90, 97–89 for Barrera.
Then it was time for Kovalev–Shabranskyy.
Kovalev was a 12-to-1 betting favorite, for good cause. One minute forty seconds into round one, he dropped Shabranskyy with an overhand right. Vyacheslav rose quickly and, a minute later, was on the canvas again, courtesy of a clubbing right hand followed by a left hook.
Round two was more of the same. Fifteen seconds into the stanza, another right over the top shook Shabranskyy. Just before the two-minute mark, an accumulation of punches put him on the canvas for the third time. He rose. Kovalev pummeled him around the ring some more. And referee Harvey Dock waved off the action at the 2:36 mark.
There are some good fights to be made now at 175 pounds. If boxing were a well-run sport, fans would see a four-man elimination tournament with Kovalev, Artur Beterbiev, Olexander Gvozdyk, and Dmitriy Bivol to determine who’s the best 175-pound fighter in the world. Adonis Stevenson, who in recent years has shown no interest in fighting elite opposition, could be the alternate. That way, Stevenson could continue to talk about going in tough and continue to not go in tough.
Boxing is not a well-run sport.
And a closing note on the November 25, 2017, festivities at Madison Square Garden.
Prior to Sosa–Gamboa, Michael Buffer introduced Ron Lipton with the words: “Inside the ring, in charge of the action at the bell, referee Ron Lipton.”
Later, in introducing Harvey Dock, who was the third man in the ring for Kovalev–Shabranskyy, Buffer proclaimed, “When the bell rings, the man in charge of the action, your referee, world-championship veteran Harvey Dock.”
As Buffer was leaving the arena at the end of the night, Lipton approached him and complained about the introductions, saying, “How could you introduce us like that? He doesn’t have my experience. I started refereeing before he did. I’ve done more championship fights than he has.”
Right now, Harvey Dock might be the best referee in boxing.
The third fight card in as many weeks at Madison Square Garden was contested at the Theater on December 9, 2017. The promotional hook was the occasion of two two-time Olympic gold medalists facing off in a professional championship fight for the first time.
Vasyl Lomachenko, age twenty-nine, is the reigning WBO 130-pound champion and at or near the top of most pound-for-pound lists. He lost a disputed split-decision to Orlando Salido in his second pro bout (for the WBO 126-pound belt) and has been undefeated in nine fights since then.
By
way of comparison, in Floyd Mayweather’s second pro fight, Pretty Boy (as Money was then known) fought an opponent named Reggie Sanders who had a 1–and-1 record and ended his career with a 12–47–4 mark.
Guillermo Rigondeaux entered the ring to face Lomachenko with a 17–0 (11 KOs) professional record and was the reigning WBA 122-pound champion.
Amateur records are subject to question. But Lomachenko is said to have compiled an otherworldly amateur mark of 396 wins against a single loss. Rigondeaux reportedly had a 463 and 12 amateur ledger. What’s not subject to question is that, representing Ukraine, Lomachenko won Olympic gold medals in 2008 and 2012. Rigondeaux won gold medals at the 2000 and 2004 Olympics on behalf of Cuba.
Lomachenko is exciting to watch. Rigondeaux has a reputation for being a boring fighter.
Three years ago, Bob Arum was asked whether he thought boxing should go back to fifteen-round championship fights.
“I was against the change to twelve rounds when it happened,” Arum answered. “But I don’t see any reason to go back to fifteen. Fifteen rounds might be less exciting because the fighters would be pacing themselves more. Besides, it’s bad enough watching Guillermo Rigondeaux for twelve rounds. Who wants to watch fifteen?”
More recently—on November 26, 2016, to be precise—Arum was asked about the possibility of matching Lomachenko against Rigondeaux.
“Listen,” Arum responded. “I’m building up Lomachenko because of his unbelievable ability to be a superstar. I’m not going to put him in a fight which he’ll win easy but will be a snoozer. It will be a shit fight. You can’t put him in with Rigondeaux, who will snooze him out. If you want to see an entertaining fight, you don’t want to see that fight.”
All that changed, of course, when Lomachenko–Rigondeaux became a reality.
“Years from now,” Arum proclaimed at the final pre-fight press conference, “when they write about the great matches in boxing history, this will be one of the fights they’re talking about.”
Lomachenko was a 7-to-2 betting favorite. With good reason. Vasyl might not be (as Arum proclaims) “the best fighter since the young Muhammad Ali.” But he’s awfully good.
Dressed at the final pre-fight press conference in jeans and a blue plaid shirt and wearing thick-rimmed glasses, Lomachenko could have left Madison Square Garden and walked unnoticed down Seventh Avenue. There’s nothing remarkable-looking about him. Until he gets in a boxing ring.
Asked how important the Rigondeaux fight was to him, Vasyl answered, “This fight is important to the fans.”
One had the feeling that it was just another fight to him.
Rigondeaux had never fought above 122 pounds before (two weight classes below Lomachenko).
“I went up to 130,” Guillermo acknowledged, “because it was the only way I could get this fight made. I would rather it have been at a lower weight.”
More significantly, Rigondeaux is thirty-seven years old. Lighter-weight fighters tend to age poorly because their speed diminishes more dramatically than with heavier boxers. Moreover, Guillermo had fought only three rounds in the twenty-four months preceding his outing against Lomachenko. And he was rumored to have “lifestyle” issues.
At a media sit-down prior to the final pre-fight press conference, Rigondeaux had the look of a man who was there to pick up a paycheck. Earlier that day, Lomachenko had been asked, “What’s the best thing about being a fighter?”
“The best thing is when you fight for the history and the glory,” Vasyl responded.
Now Guillermo was asked, “What’s the best thing about being a fighter?”
“Nothing,” he answered.
The Theater was sold out with 5,102 fans in attendance.
The first fight of the evening, like too many that followed, was a mismatch. Bryant Jennings (now 21–2, 12 KOs) is Top Rank’s current heavyweight resurrection project. Jennings had one win in the previous forty months, a knockout of West Virginia’s hapless Daniel Martz. Here, he fought Donnie Haynesworth, who had never fought outside of North Carolina and had beaten one guy with a winning record (forty-nine-year-old Mark Brown). Jennings looked lethargic en route to a third-round knockout triumph.
Later in the evening, in one of four matchups televised by ESPN, Bryant Cruz was KO’d by Christopher Diaz.
United States Olympian Shakur Stevenson stopped a punching bag named Oscar Mendoza in the second round, but was unable to knock him down. Stevenson is a stylish boxer but appears to have Paulie Malignaggi’s punching power. Whether or not Shakur has Malignaggi’s intangibles remains to be seen.
Also on ESPN, Irish Olympian Michael Conlan won a unanimous decision against a no-hope opponent named Luis Molina. Watching Conlan–Molina was like watching banderilleros stab a bull for eighteen minutes and having the spectacle end without the matador entering the ring for the kill.
The main event was only marginally more competitive. Rigondeaux was an elite fighter. Lomachenko is an elite fighter. There’s a difference. And even at his best, Rigondeaux probably couldn’t have beaten Lomachenko.
Round one was tactically fought. Rigondeaux was slightly more aggressive than Lomachenko, who seemed to be studying Guillermo to find out what he needed to know.
Whatever it was that Vasyl was looking for, he found it. He established his primacy in round two and ran the table from that point on.
Lomachenko is a creative master when it comes to speed and angles. He isn’t a big puncher, but he’s a sharp puncher who discourages opponents and, over time, beats them up. Against Rigondeaux, Vasyl kept moving and punching from all angles, mixing shots to the head and body with both hands, piling up points and doing damage.
Rigondeaux tried holding, head-butting, elbowing, hitting below the belt, rabbit-punching, hitting on the break, and every other illegal tactic that referee Steve Willis (who eventually deducted a point for the holding) let him get away with. Nothing worked. According to CompuBox, Guillermo didn’t land more than three punches in any round. He quit at the end of round six, claiming an injury to his left hand. X-rays taken after the fight confirmed that there was no tissue tear or break.
“This is not his weight,” Lomachenko said afterward. “So it’s not a big win for me. It was easy.”
Lomachenko is a special talent. Now he needs true inquisitors so boxing fans can learn whether we’re witnessing the emergence of a great fighter or the arrival of a very good one.
Intimate Warfare: The Gatti–Ward Trilogy
“Many of Arturo Gatti’s most stirring moments,” Carlo Rotella wrote, “resulted from his failure to attend to the rudiments of defense and movement. He was like an outfielder who has to dive to make game-saving catches because he gets a poor jump on fly balls.”
One of the problems with boxing today is that too many of the fights that fans see are mismatches. The best fighters are often the most protected and reluctant to go in tough.
Arturo Gatti and Micky Ward never appeared on any pound-for-pound lists. Neither man was a great fighter in terms of the skills he possessed. All the heart in the world couldn’t make them competitive with elite boxers. But they were good action fighters who never shied away from going in tough. They fought each other three times within the span of thirteen months. Each fight was scheduled for ten rounds. No alphabet-soup belts were at stake. Gatti–Ward II and III were very good fights. Gatti–Ward I was a great fight and the reason why boxing fans talk reverentially about the Gatti–Ward encounters to this day.
Intimate Warfare by Dennis Taylor and John Raspanti (published by Rowman & Littlefield) is the story of the Gatti–Ward trilogy.
Ward lived a relatively quiet life outside the ring and had a devoted fan base. Gatti burned the candle at both ends and had a cult following.
Gatti’s curriculum vitae included alcohol and drug abuse and numerous arrests for drunken driving.
“I’ve known a number of fighters who could party really hard,” HBO blow-by-blow commentator Jim Lampley observed. “Fighters who were
pushing themselves to the limit in that regard the same way they would push themselves to the limit in the ring. And there was nobody like Arturo.”
Pat Lynch (Gatti’s manager) concurred, saying, “My wife and I would worry if the phone rang at three in the morning, hoping it was just him asking for a few dollars, hoping he wasn’t in trouble.”
But there was a sweet side to Arturo. In November 2002, I was in Atlantic City for the second Gatti–Ward fight. Paulie Malignaggi (who was relatively unknown at the time) was scheduled to fight Paul Delgado on the undercard. Arturo had just finished a sit-down in a conference room with a small group of media. Paulie had come in to listen and was standing off to the side.
“Arturo is my hero,” Paulie told me.
“Have you met him?”
“No.”
“C’mon. I’ll introduce you.”
Gatti had a fight coming up in two days. He was struggling to make weight, which can turn the nicest fighter in the world into an ogre. But he was warm and welcoming to Paulie and talked with him for several minutes.
“That made me feel good,” Paulie said afterward. “He treated me like I’m somebody.”
As for Gatti and Ward as fighters . . .
“Ward,” Taylor and Raspanti note, “was a reliable action fighter of limited ability, who could be counted on by one of the second-tier boxing networks to provide formidable competition for opponents perceived to have a brighter future.”
His will was the key to his marketability.
“Everybody’s heart is the same size,” Ward posited. “It’s your will to be able to go through pain and not give up [that counts]. You can’t train for it. Either you have it or you don’t. Either you’re born with it or you’re not.”
Meanwhile, Gatti fought in a manner that earned him the sobriquet of “the Human Highlight Reel.”
“Smash him with a right hand that splits an eyebrow causing blood to pour down his face,” Steve Springer of the Los Angeles Times wrote. “Crush him with a body shot that caves in a rib. Pound him until his legs become too shaky to support his body. Arturo Gatti will accept all that stoically. He always has, knowing it’s part of boxing, the cruel and often painful sport in which he makes a living. Just don’t ignore him, dismiss him, or show him a lack of respect. That, he can’t accept.”
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