After having the fight beaten out of him five months ago, Ricky “The Hitman” Hatton faced plenty of questions about his commitment and confidence in returning to the ring last week. He answered those questions satisfactorily. He’s still pretty confident. Still fairly committed. He’s just no longer as competitive.
Folks will chalk that up to Hatton’s regimen of pubbing and starving. But lifestyle choices will not be the end of Hatton’s career. Mileage will.
A few more ticks went on Hatton’s odometer Saturday in City of Manchester Stadium. Fighting before a crowd of 55,000, Hatton decisioned formerly retired Juan Lazcano by scores of 120-110, 118-110 and 120-108. Hatton also retained Ring magazine’s recognition of him as the top junior welterweight.
The leadup to last week’s fight treated Hatton’s weight. Such concerns have become so predictable that Hatton did a treatment of them himself. Part of his ring walk happened in a padded suit. The blue sequined robe read “Fatman,” and the matching trunks read “Fatton.” If he is tired of hearing about his drinking and eating and struggles to make weight, Hatton has reason to be.
He just completed his 45th prizefight. He is a world champion at 140 pounds. He has made tens of millions of dollars in his career. And he just seated almost twice as many fans at a post-Mayweather-loss party as Oscar de la Hoya did three weeks ago.
Hatton has gotten away with it, in other words. He has made a great career for himself despite a lifestyle that is not spartan. His intensity and relentlessness in the ring were never conducive to longevity, anyway. He has fed off (and with) his fans and their adoration of him. He has been more showman than ring legend.
But so what? As we saw against Floyd Mayweather in December, Hatton did not come with ring-legend talent.
Which is not to imply that he’s talent-free. One does not become a world champion without superlative gifts. Hatton has taken these gifts, married them to humility and accessibility and become a famous athlete. He’ll likely fight four more times, and each time he’ll sell-out the venue.
Have his skills faded noticeably in the last three years? Absolutely. The hard-fighting ways that made him have begun to undo him. Such is the reflexivity of the fight game.
Hatton’s intensity is no longer what it was. The assiduous creature who stalked and mauled Kostya Tszyu is retired. Instead of launching himself at opponents to begin clinches on his own terms, Hatton now sort of wades in. Once he’s there, he hooks an arm and waits.
A misplaced elbow. A lowered shoulder. Too much weight on one side. The things Hatton tries to sense on his opponent. When he does, he batters the lad. When he doesn’t — or when his opponent senses it on him — Hatton raises his hand like a schoolboy. If the referee calls on him, Hatton asks for a break.
Hatton now does what all out-of-their-prime champions do: He waits for opportunities more than he causes them.
All of this began with a loss of speed. So it goes as men grow older. Hatton no longer closes space like before. At the championship level, where things are measured in centimeters and fractions of a second, the bit of tardiness now announcing Hatton’s arrival makes a big difference. Opponents gird better for his attack. Hatton cannot keep them perpetually off-balance like he once did.
And now they can time him on the way in. Oh, can they time him. In December, Mayweather did more than simply run a highlighter over the boxing lexicon’s entry for “check hook.” He showed no one is more vulnerable to a left hand than Hatton in launch mode. Mayweather’s wizardry revealed this. Now the Juan Lazcanos of the world can see it too.
Part of this is Hatton’s fault. His naked left hook was bound to cause him troubles someday. But it sure worked better when following a slipped right cross. Hatton used to lean left, let his opponent’s right hand whistle by, close space and hurl the left hook. Now Hatton slips the right cross. Or throws the left hook. He no longer does both in one motion.
Fooling no one with a stutter to his back foot and a rightward tilt of the head, Hatton now plants from too far away and sails on in. He lands on his lead foot and twists the left hook round his body. But in so doing, he brings his chin twirling towards an opponent’s oncoming left glove. It ruined his night against Mayweather and got him in trouble against Lazcano.
Hatton knows this. It’s what he means when he chats-up his “underrated boxing ability.” Hatton’s boxing ability is not underrated. But his ability to think and make adjustments is. On Saturday, Hatton got tired of playing left hook roulette with Lazcano and went to a traditional jab-cross combination. This tactical change worked, and he landed several right hands on Lazcano.
Could he land them on Mayweather? Definitely not. Could he land them on Paulie Malignaggi, Saturday’s co-feature? Probably not.
Fortunately for Hatton, outside his native borough Brooklyn’s Malignaggi inspires only indifference. Whether it’s with pre-fight verbosity, alien masks or hair extensions, “The Magic Man” tries desperately to make people notice him. He generally succeeds for a round or two. Then he breaks a hand and becomes unwatchable. In many ways Malignaggi just isn’t ready for the big leagues and may never be.
Good for Hatton. Malignaggi wouldn’t be a fun fight for him, or the rest of us. Instead of fighting Malignaggi, Hatton should hoist the Ring belt high over head and carefully select more opponents like Lazcano. In three such fights, he can have his rematch with Mayweather.
That event should happen at 140 pounds, take place in England and represent a final payday for Hatton. Bill it: “Adios to the Manchester Mexican.”
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