LOS ANGELES – In the hot blood that came immediately after his loss, blood that had streamed in his left eye and made a red mask of his face yet again, Israel Vazquez expressed a desire to fight Rafael Marquez a fifth time, to break their tie. Thirty minutes later, when everyone’s blood had cooled, Vazquez’s promoter Oscar De La Hoya shared a wiser sentiment.
“It’s 2-2,” De La Hoya said, “and that’s the way that it should be.”
Saturday in Staples Center, Vazquez and Marquez made an unusual fourth fight that ended at 1:33 of round 3 when referee Raul Caiz Jr. astutely read Vazquez’s body language and precluded any further damage from being done to one Mexico City native by the other. Before Vazquez could drop to the canvas a second time, Caiz stepped in front of Marquez and waived the end. Marquez had evened the series. There was no reason to fight any more.
Finally, there was little reason for Vazquez and Marquez to have made their legendary trilogy into a disappointing tetralogy. If any energy coursed through Staples Center during the Friday weigh-in and Saturday undercard, it was an obligated sort. Those of us present showed dutifulness more than excitement. The larger venue and paychecks, too, were more honorary than celebratory:
We’d like to give you guys an apt send-off and pension, but to do it, unfortunately we’re going to need you to fight once more.
Vazquez and Marquez obliged – or should it now be Marquez before Vazquez? – and made an uneven end to their fantastically even beginning and middle. But if the fourth fight had to happen, its conclusion was unexpectedly merciful. For that we should be grateful.
Throughout, there was an appropriate theme of unity. Both men were Mexicans, world champions and gentlemen. This theme happened best during ring walks, when for the first time in memory, two fighters shared the same band, a Mexican mariachi group that paid homage to “La Patria.” The Staples Center crowd of 9,236 – a couple thousand more than attended Vazquez-Marquez III in nearby Carson, Calif. – was predominantly Mexican, too, if smaller than hoped.
If there was a moment that reminded you of the last time Vazquez and Marquez fought, it came in the opening seconds. The two men touched jabs more than gloves, and then Vazquez tossed a wild right hand Marquez’s way. It said, “We both know how you were at the end of our third fight, why don’t we pick things up right there?”
That was Vazquez’s most confident moment of the night and perhaps his last. Asked afterwards when he knew his opponent was in trouble, Rafael Marquez said he felt it on the end of his jab in round 1. As he once more sunk knuckles in Vazquez’s flesh, that is, Marquez noted something less resolved, a bit softer, somewhat less steeled. Fighters do sense that sort of thing; it’s a requisite tool in the box when your craft is hurting other men.
Ringsiders would not notice the slice Marquez put beneath Vazquez’s left eyebrow till it became gruesome in round 2. But it was there. Even from 30 feet away, a redness could be seen over Vazquez’s damaged eye in the first minute. And looking at pictures from early in Saturday’s fight, you now see darker blemishes in the tissue than the rosy hue that has dusted Vazquez’s eyebrows at his public appearances since 2008. Were it anyone else, you’d wonder if some handler had taught the man how to apply makeup en route to press conferences and award ceremonies, to ward away errant inquiries from careful journalists.
Marquez’s masterful right hand, among the finest seen in a generation, instantly knew better. It quickly took the flesh over Vazquez’s eye from nick to gash to wound.
“You could see the bone,” explained Vazquez’s veteran cut man Miguel Diaz afterwards. “You cannot stop these things with the medicine that we have.”
Then you stop the fight! Well, yes. Or maybe no.
Better that you do what Vazquez’s corner did. You tell your charge he gets one more round. You give him a last chance to measure himself, and you hope nothing gets permanently altered within him but his desire to fight on. And so, in the third round of his fourth fight with Rafael Marquez, Israel Vazquez relented.
He went down differently than he’d gone down in the fourth round of their third fight. He didn’t get knocked to the canvas by a concussive blow. He blindly wandered into a Marquez right cross, instead, and kneeled hopelessly. It was a distress signal from one of prizefighting’s noblest men. All read it. And had Caiz not closed things a few seconds later, Vazquez’s corner would have.
Had the fight been stopped by a ringside physician after round 2, the prospect of Vazquez-Marquez V would haunt both men, and their managers, and their fans. Were Vazquez able to attribute his loss to an accident of some kind, chances are good some of us would have to make another trek to California and see things to their bitter end. Who, after all, would deserve another chance if not Israel Vazquez?
No, it ended better this way. Vazquez was beaten, his incredible will subdued. Pushed for a retirement announcement at the post-fight press conference, he used the Spanish verb “meditar” – to meditate. He and his family will meditate on his future, think about it thoroughly, and see what it holds for them.
Those of us who came to this city to honor Vazquez and Marquez, to stiffen the ranks on press row or stand and cheer the men’s sacrifices as they walked to the ring, could never return for a fifth fight. All the reasons that brought us to this one would bar us from another.
Bart Barry can be reached at bbarry@15rounds.com