Opponents are like employees to Floyd Mayweather Jr. He talks as if he hires and fires them in his role as boxer, promoter, matchmaker and candlestick maker. But before Mayweather could tell Canelo Alvarez how much his purse would be and what would floors he’d have to sweep to earn it, Alvarez told him to take this job and shove it.

In a sure sign that Canelo has arrived as a star in his own right, he decided not to fight on the May 4 undercard of Mayweather’s bout against Robert Guerrero at Las Vegas’ MGM Grand.

According to various reports, Canelo’s bout against Austin Trout was moved to April 20 in San Antonio because Mayweather would not guarantee him that he’s next, the second act in Mayweather’s new Showtime deal.

Speculation still has Canelo-Mayweather happening on Sept. 14. Part of that, however, had included an assumption that Canelo would appear on the May 4 undercard as part of Mayweather’s supporting cast. But when Mayweather said no to the guarantee, Canelo made other plans.

Somebody more unsure of his credentials and unproven as an attraction might have accepted the denial and quietly resigned himself to a preliminary role. After all, Mayweather’s claim on power has been emboldened by a Showtime contract that, according to some reports, could be worth $250 million. A fraction of Mayweather’s potential income from Showtime could fund a nice retirement. Why offend him?

But Canelo’s move off Mayweather’s card and onto his own indicates that the Mexican junior-middleweight has begun to see himself as an equal. The guess from this corner is that’s how he will negotiate. To wit: Canelo will demand a lot more money that Victor Ortiz and Guerrero ever did. Forget all the predictable trash talk after contracts are safely signed. Guerrero, like Ortiz, is happy for the opportunity.

Unlike any proposed opponent other than Manny Pacquiao on the list of Mayweather possibilities, Canelo has drawing power. He proved at home in Mexico. He confirmed it on Sept. 15 with a record rating for Showtime in a victory over Josesito Lopez at the MGM Grand on the same night that Sergio Martinez beat Julio Cesar Chavez Jr. at Las Vegas’ Thomas & Mack Center on an HBO pay-per-view telecast.

Mayweather has said often and in so many words that he has no equal. In the ring, maybe he doesn’t. But it will be interesting to see if Canelo’s box-office power makes negotiations as futile as they were with Pacquiao. Mayweather likes to dictate more than negotiate. But Mayweather also endangers potential revenue stream for himself and Showtime if he ignores Canelo and the big Mexican audience that he brings to the table.

After his upset of Miguel Cotto, Trout might prove to be a bigger challenge to Canelo than expected. If Canelo prevails, however, the television numbers will be the biggest factor to emerge from April 20.

If they continue to multiply, Mayweather might have to deal with a dangerous business partner, instead of just another carefully-chosen employee.

DALLAS – While the aficionados who peruse this column were dutifully enduring a first collaboration of Mayweather Promotions and Showtime, Saturday, one that worked better as prophesy than entertainment, after they’d already endured a week of contemplating another network switch certain to change the world once more – this time Floyd Mayweather following Manny Pacquiao to Showtime, or have we forgotten? – I was at American Airlines Center to see a hockey game between the Dallas Stars and San Jose Sharks.

The game was not very good, just as Mayweather’s May 4 welterweight fight with 2009 featherweight titlist Robert Guerrero will not be, but it did hold a moment at 8:21 of period 2, an instant of mutual malice satisfactorily resolved, that reminded me how rarely prizefighting brings such catharses anymore. The moment featured a face Mayweather flashes when he throws a punch with which he means to hurt, a contorted countenance that reminds you he is a fighter, a face both Sharks forward Joe Thornton and Stars forward Jamie Benn flashed as their fists and bodies crashed together, and that is what I will treat here.

Saturday’s epiphany: Ferocity of spectacle is what I have missed – a confrontation taken personally, the desire to hurt another man overcoming any fear of being embarrassed before 18,000 strangers. Thornton and Benn’s squaring-off brought a unique drama caused by two quite large professional athletes, neither of whom fights for a living but both of whom know how because one would not otherwise make his living the way they do. It held a tension most every prizefight will lack in 2013: Someone could be badly hurt quite suddenly, and neither man seems to care.

It was a ferocious face Joe Thornton wore as he went after Benn. Thornton, in his prime, now passed, was talented a player as the league had; at 6-foot-4, he moved as a much smaller man, with what balance and grace is expected of a centerman, though with four inches and 20 pounds more than tradition wears at the position. But his desire was questioned in Boston, where he was first pick of the 1997 draft, and then San Jose, where he has been captain for years.

Thornton’s is a finesse game of imaginative passing and awareness of the ice surface, done with what can feel like a complacent smirk; despite 328 career goals, he does not shoot often enough, and despite weighing at least 230 pounds – 235 according to Dropyourgloves.com – he rarely runs his body hard into another’s. In skates and full equipment Saturday, though, Thornton was a 6-foot-7, 240-pound man, nearly a Klitschko brother, under a burst of what sudden rage both Klitschkos avoid with a craftsman’s determination.

I was in row H, seven from the glass, in the zone where hostilities initiated. While any sport is best appreciated by its former practitioners, hockey is more decisively this way than others; because of its speed, and because of how poorly American cameramen, raised on football or baseball or basketball, anticipate plays, ever trailing the action or overcorrecting initial tardinesses, hockey – as separate from the bloodiest elements of its reputation – is rarely appreciated properly by those who’ve not played it. That is seldom a problem above the snow line, and never a problem in Canada, but things can get dicey in Texas.

Skating past, Benn speared Thornton in the groin, the soft fleshy part of the inner thigh where there is no protection, and Thornton reciprocated by chopping the blade of his stick precisely on the inch or so of Benn’s forearm that lay unprotected by the top glove and bottom elbow pad. A wrinkle happened across the ice, a surge in the game’s electrical grid; while most eyes in American Airlines Center followed the puck 20 feet away, those who played the game looked at Thornton and Benn in the instant before Thornton dropped his left glove and Benn shouted, “Let’s go!”

Thornton gently maneuvered one of the Stars defenseman out his way and began checking tape on his right wrist, to ensure his elbow pad did not slide downwards and soften any blow he landed. Benn glided backwards, ungloved hands at his side. The combatants began a large circle, the crowd took its feet with a ghoulish and shouted glee, and the officials backed away to allow space for a resolution. Thornton and Benn negotiated an agreement to remove their helmets, promising neither would break his hand on anything but the other’s bared skull.

Chinstraps undone and hats demurely removed and ceremoniously placed on the ice, the men raised their uncovered knuckles, squared up, circled once, Thornton took a deep breath, and they leaped at each other. The moment was packed to bursting with what chaotic rage the word “fight” should conjure. On a frictionless surface, each moved at the other much faster than two prizefighters would do.

“A fight is a fight” – those were what words happened in my mind. Whatever else these men were – masters in the balletic discipline of balancing on four razor’s edges at 25 miles per hour, careful teammates, loyal friends, fathers, sons – they were savages in the moment, rushing at one another in nearly formless rage, faces honestly contorted by the evil of wanting to hurt another man very badly. These were not, it must be reiterated, goons or enforcers putting on a rally-the-boys spectacle for violence-lusting Texans; these were skill players (Benn had a goal and an assist Saturday) under the spell of a genuine fury, the sort a man feels when he is wronged to requiring satisfaction.

The fight quickly devolved into the exhausting place hockey fights do, with Thornton holding Benn’s jersey with his left fist, yanking him into the jab, and landing a considerable right cross or two to Benn’s left temple – punches that pained both Sunday morning. Benn found Thornton with a right hand as well before both spun to their stockinged kneepads. By prizefighting standards, it was a mere brawl, a donnybrook, a wild-swinging matter of personal grievance with only fractional punching skill employed, which is what brought a catharsis prizefighting will too often lack in 2013.

Bart Barry can be reached at bart.barrys.email (at) gmail.com

Floyd Mayweather Jr.’s jump Tuesday from HBO to Showtime and parent network CBS is a move that will reveal whether he’s more about money or his place in history.

There’s still a lot we don’t know about the deal, but it’s safe to say it will further enrich the fighter with a nickname, Money, that thus far defines him. Forbes is reporting that the 30-month contract could be worth $250 million if he fights as many as six times. On Forbes’ last annual list of top-earning athletes, Mayweather was No.1 with $85 million for two fights – victories over Victor Ortiz and Miguel Cotto.

Barring a string of undisclosed losses at Vegas books, Mayweather doesn’t need the money. What he does need, however, are fights that will substantiate his claim on being the best ever, better than even Sugar Ray Robinson, Muhammad Ali, Joe Louis and Sugar Ray Leonard.

According to several reports, the contract includes a Showtime guarantee of Mayweather’s purses, no matter what the pay-per-view numbers are. It’s not clear if that guarantee is for the full amount, or a percentage. Six fights over the next two-and-a-half years also look unlikely. Mayweather has fought only four times over the last five years. But let’s say he does. And let’s say Showtime guarantees 100 percent of each purse. That’s about $41.66 million-a-fight.

Given Mayweather’s history, there’s danger in that kind of an agreement. He’s a counter puncher in the ring and by nature. Other than NBA and NFL wagers, he’s not known for taking chances. The smallest risk for the biggest reward has always been Mayweather’s formula. With a guarantee already in his pocket, it would be his nature — and human nature — to just protect his undefeated record (43-0, 26 KOs) against opponents who aren’t much of a threat.

If he fights all six times and wins each, he could end the Showtime deal with a victory that equals Rocky Marciano’s 49-0 record. Then, there’s the chance at history, 50-0, and a new network deal as rich, or richer, than the current one.

A lot can, and will, happen between now and then. There’s potential injury. There’s age. Mayweather turns 36 on Sunday. He’ll be 38 when the Showtime contract expires. In his last bout, a unanimous decision over Cotto in May, Mayweather looked as if he had lost some foot speed. The fading Cotto landed punches that left swelling and bruises on a Mayweather face that usually emerges unmarked.

If Mayweather is serious about making history, the damage done by Cotto is a sign that now is the time for him to do it. His Showtime contract opens on May 4 against Robert Guerrero at Las Vegas’ MGM Grand. The surprising Guerrero has turned himself into a credible opponent, but not one with much of a chance against Mayweather. Book makers give him no chance at all. Opening odds against Guerrero were about 11-to-1. History will remember this one only if Guerrero wins.

But we’ll give Mayweather a pass. After a long layoff and nearly three months in jail for domestic abuse, a tune-up is reasonable, especially against somebody as tough and resourceful as Guerrero. Then, however, the test of whether he’s in it for money or history will begin to unfold and ultimately be determined by whom he fights. His career has been built on a record that lacks the rivalries and comebacks that created a Robinson, Ali, Louis and Leonard. All of them encountered adversity and defeat, but each came back in a way that cemented their place among the legends.

A new deal offers Mayweather five chances to cement his own.

Here are the five:

Sergio Martinez. The middleweight champion has said he’s willing to fight Mayweather at 154 pounds. But Mayweather likes to brag that, from 140 to 160 pounds, he can beat anybody. At 160, Mayweather would have a chance to do exactly that.

Manny Pacquiao. Please, already. We’ve been talking about it ad nauseam. Even if Pacquiao’s best is behind him, the fight needs to happen. If it doesn’t, a hole in the Mayweather resume will always be there.

Canelo Alvarez. There’s talk that Mayweather-Alvarez will happen in September. For Mayweather, the sooner, the better. Mayweather’s eroding foot speed might leave him vulnerable to effective combinations from the young Alvarez, who is only going to get better.

Brandon Rios. Mayweather has avoided fighters who are tougher than they are talented. Rios loves to take two, three, four and five punches just to throw one. It’s a dangerous exchange. But there’s no history without one.

Gennady Golovkin. Golovkin needs more name recognition. At least, that’s the theory. During the last year, the middleweight from Kazakhstan has been getting more and more media attention. At least, we know how to spell his last name, even if Martinez promoter Lou DiBella doesn’t want to hear it. For now Golovkin falls into the “Most Avoided” category. That means he’s feared, which also means he’s somebody Mayweather should fight.

But it all depends on what he does with that Showtime contract. Pose, bet and brag about it? Or invest it in a legacy?

Ivan Redkach, of Los Angeles, improved to 14-0, 12 KOs, scoring a KO at 2:06 of the very first round against Sergio Rivera, now 27-11-2, 17 KOs. Scheduled for eight rounds in the lightweight division, the knockout artist Redkach came out of his corner like a tornado, throwing fast combinations to the head and body. Body shots bent Rivera in half and the southpaw Redkach followed up with uppercuts to the chin that dropped his foe for the full count.

The co-feature showcased Travis Peterkin (6-0, 3 KO’s, 175lbs) completely out-classed Thomas Turner (3-2, 2 KO’s, 173lbs) over the course of three rounds. Turner did not land a significant punch the entire fight, while Peterkin brawled his way through three rounds, hurting Turner regularly. Finally, after taking dozens of unanswered punches, the referee was forced to call a halt to the bout at 2:10 of the third round and Peterkin received a TKO victory.
2:10 rd 3

Coming off of his first professional defeat, Thomas DuLorme (16-1, 12 KO’s, 143lbs) took on Edward Brooks (9-3, 3 KO’s, 148lbs). DuLorme took the fight to Brooks from the outset, and it didn’t take long for the KO to come. A measuring left jab followed by a powerful right dropped Brooks hard. Brooks made two attempts to get to his feet, but fell both times. The referee counted to ten at the 1:35 point of the first round, giving DuLorme a first round knockout victory.

Keisher McLeod Wells scored a six round unanimous decision over Jacqueline Park in a Female Flyweight bout.

McLeod Wells, 109 lbs of Brooklyn won by scores of 59-55, 58-56 and 58-56 and is now 6-2. Park, 110 lbs of Burlington, Ontario is 0-2.

In a bout scheduled for four rounds, former amateur national champion Patrick Day (1-0, 1 KO, 154lbs) took on Dominique Foster (1-1-1, 0 KO’s, 154lbs). Day opened up the bout aggressively, and Foster had no answer. He weaved away wildly while he took hard blows throughout the entirety of the first round. As the round ended, Foster complained about pain in his neck, and all three ringside doctors were called over to observe. Eventually, Foster’s trainer made the decision to call the fight off in between rounds. Day was credited with a TKO victory at 3:00 of the first round.

The popular Louis Cruz(1-0, 1 KO, 141lbs) of the Bronx, NY took on a very talented Demond Brock (3-1, 2 KO’s, 143lbs) in a bout scheduled for four rounds. Both fighters didn’t take long getting to know each other. Cruz worked behind his jab and powerful straight right hand while Brock countered to the body. Cruz’jab eventually opened up a cut over Brock’s right eye early in the fight, and that might have been the difference maker for what came later. Two rounds later, while Brock tried throwing a left hook, Cruz threw a better left hook that landed flush on Brock’s chin, flattening Brock. Cruz won by way of stoppage at 1:12 of the third round.

Neuky Santelises (3-0, 2 KO’s, 132lbs) scored a first round stoppage over Denis Madriz (1-0-1, 1 KO, 130lbs) in a scheduled four round Super Featherweight bout.

It was a brawl from the get but Santelises gained control and landed some hard shots before the fight was stopped forty-six seconds into the bout.

Santelises, 132 lbs of Washington Heights, NY is now 4-0 with three knockouts. Madriz, 130 lbs of San Francisco is now 0-1-1.

This is how Saturday ended after Adrien “The Problem” Broner defeated Gavin Rees by corner stoppage in the fifth round.

Max Kellerman: “You beat the hell out of him, would you like to see, and comment, some?”
The Problem: “I mean, everybody knows sex sells. I’m pretty. I want to keep seeing myself on TV.”

Max Kellerman: “And then in round 5?”
The Problem: “Man, I cooked him. He was underwater like a neckbone.”

Max Kellerman: “What’s your best shot?”
The Problem: “Um, my best shot is when I take a picture. Somebody take a picture of me.”

Very good writing happened last week, with Adrien Broner as its subject. Much of it, though, thinned as it progressed, both gaining and losing animus as it applied itself to the chore of Broner’s excavation. Some of it craftily ended with a shrug, other of it marched towards a preordained conclusion, a tariff for what exhaustive access brought an exhausted broadcast, Saturday, once Broner finally did the one thing he is good at, which is fighting. His prefight appearances on camera betrayed a boredom with his own shtick, a boredom arrived at him prematurely as forehead wrinkles. His previous events were preceded and succeeded, immediately, by a self-consumption that betrayed either lunacy or immaturity. If it was lunacy, “The Problem” is cured; if it was immaturity, he is now aged. Broner is not fascinated by Broner any longer – which is one attribute of Floyd Mayweather’s, a genuinely childlike enthusiasm at his own voice amplifying clichés, Broner has not borrowed.

It is not possible a person adept at interpreting the rhythms of other men’s physiques as Broner is does not sense his inquisitors’ growing boredom, and the audience boredom it anticipates. Sycophants’ overwrought mirth convinces no one, finally, and sends natural showmen to the reservoir of their own emotions. But in this sense Broner is akin to the retreaded recording characters hip-hop cynically grinded out after Dr. Dre’s solo album in 1992, guys who rapped, effectively, about how much they wanted to be like other, better guys, rappers passable in the compulsory round – rims, guns, hoes – but bereft of material for the freestyle round, the meaningful one, and ignorant of how much stock even the naivest listener placed in an element of discovery.

Broner, too, confronts an audience conundrum hip-hop’s now-anonymous laggards did not. The Mayweather shtick of which Broner is already tired was not created for aficionados; it was invented years later to capture a millionth pay-per viewer. Mayweather already had aficionados’ esteem, begrudging as it was – for retiring in only his 18th prizefight Genaro Hernandez, for dropping Diego Corrales five times, for granting Jose Luis Castillo an immediate rematch – when he later invented “Money May,” a rapacious character designed to capture revenue by fulfilling stereotypes to provoke strong reactions, beggaring what shallow plots action movies provide.

Aficionados do not go for this. They generally compose an older, smarter set enchanted by violent competition, not special effects. They make ethnic identifications but care little for biography because their identities are settled, and because they’ve been force-fed the same “boxing saved him from the streets” script often enough to know fewer than one in a 100 kids from the streets can fight a lick – rendering such biographical tidbits useless to someone thoughtfully hoping to understanding an athlete whose prowess he admires.

Mayweather had a supporting cast Broner does not yet have; a crazy dad, a crazier uncle, charismatic and accomplished opponents like Oscar De La Hoya and Ricky Hatton, and an innovative set of producers at HBO who knew more about creating documentaries than they didn’t know about boxing. Broner has a hairbrush.

He also has a hell of an idea what he is doing in a boxing ring, and while he is not quite the beast he appeared across from tiny Gavin Rees, he is good a fighter as the world has under 147 pounds. He changes men, professional fighting men, from aggressors to targets. By round 4, Saturday, he made Rees do the very thing Antonio Demarco did in his own fourth round with Broner in November: Nervously rest his head someplace Broner’s right fist couldn’t help but find it. As noticed by analyst Lee Wylie, whose deconstructions of boxing’s language are consistently excellent, Broner’s left hook, whether leading or checking, is now among the most formidable punches in prizefighting. It makes rugged men look for refuge inside it – Demarco set his head against Broner’s right glove, Rees occasionally tried Broner’s left elbow – which is the place Broner wants them, and from which he snuffs their fighting spirits.

There is nothing Broner does so well as fight, and he should stop permitting others to ask him to do more than that. Broner is now told, by folks too inexperienced to know better, he should capture aficionados with a formula invented for casual fans, to whose heights a prizefighter does not build without a sturdy and committed foundation. Thoughtless as his detractors may imagine him, Broner does sense this. The very reflex that tells him to rock away from an opponent’s right hand in the first round but step into the same punch in the fourth is one that told him to end things Saturday just as Max Kellerman crashed their postfight interview into a monitor of highlighted knockdowns. Everything about Kellerman’s comportment told Broner the episode was a flop, and better to end it. He didn’t, and discomfited sighs everywhere else were the result.

It is time for an imagined slight of some kind to make Broner stop talking. The best thing Mayweather did after the way he finished the FaceLube spokesman, in 2011, was refuse to talk about it, subsequently bending a sucker punch into a dark bit of strategizing. To the myriad of things Broner borrows from Mayweather, he should now add silence.

Bart Barry can be reached at bart.barrys.email (at) gmail.com

At the Boardwalk Hall in Atlantic City, NJ Golden Boy Promotions alongside R&R Promotions featured boxing’s best young talent take another step towards greatness. That boxer’s name is Adrien Broner (25-0, 21 KO’s, 134lbs), and on Saturday night he squared off against the rugged former world champion, Gavin Rees (37-1-1, 134 1/2lbs). Broner has remained undefeated by blending his amazing speed with raw power …. And of course a pinch of flash to go along. Rees came out swinging to start the bout. The smaller of the two fighters, Rees put his head down and charged in while taking head snapping blows right on the chin. His aggression might have won him that first round, but Broner was extremely efficient with his punches and was landing at a higher rate as the bout progressed.

Broner’s amazing ability drew “ohhs” and “ahhs” from the crowd, and Rees toughness and strong will drew cheers from his supporters. Entering the fourth round, the fight was already very entertaining, but Broner was completely in control. In a flash, a right uppercut landed clear on Rees’ chin, sending him crashing onto his back. With the crowd in a frenzy, Broner felt it necessary to break into a dance.

Rees made it out of the round, and seemed fairly competent in the fifth round until a vicious shot to the body sent him to his knees. It was a beautiful punch on the inside that was timed to absolute perfection. Rees, beat the count, but was in a difficult position. Broner proved that he could hurt Rees to the head and body. Rees had to make a decision as to how high or low he should place his guard; to protect his body or head? He decided to go with what probably hurt the most at that moment; his body. Broner capitalized by landing numerous punches upstairs. He was looking to close the show. Rees’ corner understood this, and his trainer wisely threw in the towel to spare his fighter more punishment. Adrien Broner won by TKO at 2:59 of the 5th round.

In an exciting clash of styles, Sakio Bika (30-5, 21 KO’s, 167 1/2lbs) squared off against the relatively unknown Nikola Sjekloca (25-0, 7 KO’s, 167 1/2lbs). Bika took control of the action quickly. Sjekloca possessed the typical European rigid style. Standing upright and moving straight backwards and side to side. While that works for some, it was not cutting it for Sjekloca. Bika’s awkward style gave his opponent fits while giving himself angles to land multiple combinations. After the first few rounds of the fight, many in attendance felt that Bika could win by knockout. Like flicking a switch Sjekloca got into his groove by the middle rounds. It was still clearly Bika’s fight, but Sjekloca now made it competitive. He was often able to time Bika’s unorthodox upper body movement with his right hand, and he certainly earned Bika’s respect during those middle rounds. Still, Bika managed to kit it up into another gear by the late rounds and essentially shut down whatever abilities Sjekloca possessed. The bout made it’s way to the scorecards and they read 119-109, 118-112, and 120-108 all in favor of Bika for a unanimous decision victory. He is now the WBC mandatory for Andre Ward’s title.

Demetrius Hopkins (32-2-1, 13 KO’s, 152 1/2lbs) came out to a throng of cheers when he took to the ring against Charles Whitaker (39-13-2, 23 KO’s, 154lbs) for the USBA light middleweight title. Those cheers quickly turned to boos as the action was anything but exciting. Hopkins has always been a methodical fighter, so the pace wasn’t unexpected for those in attendance. Whitaker, the bigger of the two fighters had very little desire to engage Hopkins, and this made for a very boring few rounds. After a round of boos, Hopkins lulled Whitaker into backing straight back into the ropes, and unleashed a solid overhand right that sent Whitaker down. This made things more interesting, but whatever little desire Whitaker had of throwing punches was immediately thrown out the window after the knockdown. Hopkins just continuously stalked his opponent and landed his right hand whenever he managed to get Whitaker to stop back pedaling. At the end of the sixth round, as Whitaker was hearing more boos from the crowd, he complained of loss of vision in his left eye. His corner was forced to stop the bout. The ruling was that Hopkins won by TKO at 3:00 of the sixth round.

The once rising star, Vincente Escobedo (25-5, 15 KO’s, 129 1/2lbs) took the ring for a comeback fight after losing to Adrien Broner last summer. His opponent was the battle tested Edner Cherry (30-6-2, 17 KO’s, 129 1/2lbs). He made a bad mistake. Cherry just simply out-hustled Escobedo from the get-go; putting in most of his work to the body, which completely opened Escobedo up for punches upstairs. Cherry’s work rate kept Escobedo off balance throughout most of the night and it prevented Escobedo from getting a rhythm. The second round saw Cherry floor his opponent, and it was more of the same from there on out. By the sixth round, Escobedo seemed completely spent, and a big hook sent him crashing down onto the canvas. Escobedo barely made it to his feet, and the referee allowed the fight to continue. Cherry, on the other hand was aware that time was running out on the round, and stormed right in once both fighters were cleared to box. More hooks came in and Escobedo went down again just as the bell to end the round. Referee Allan Huggins wisely stopped the bout right then and there, giving Cherry a TKO victory at 3:00 of the sixth round. Escobedo was once considered to be the top prospect in boxing. It seems unlikely that he will ever become a player at 130lbs or any other weight for that matter.

Former Olympian Rau’Shee Warren (2-0, 0KO’s, 116 1/2lbs) made easy work of Richard Hernandez (0-5, 0 KO’s, 115 1/2lbs) en route to a TKO victory. Warren, a friend and training partner of Broner, was just too fast, too strong, and just flat out too good for Hernandez. After a dominant first round, Warren kicked it into a higher gear in the second, scoring two knockdowns that prompted Hernandez’ corner to throw in the towel to spare him any further embarrassment and pain. Warren won by TKO at 2:04 of the second round.

In an anti-climactic fight, Robert Easter Jr. (2-0, 2 KOs, 133lbs) opened up a cut over the right eye of Jose Valderrama (2-3, 2 KOs, 135lbs). Easter was dominating the first round when the cut occurred. Valderrama was visibly distracted by the bleeding and placement of the cut. Nobody seemed surprised when the ringside physician advised the referee to stop the bout. Easter was credited with a first round TKO at the 3:00 point of the first.

Another Olympian, Jamel Herring (1-0, 1 KO, 134 1/2lbs) boxed beautifully against the outmatched Carlos Lopez (4-2, 0KO’s 137lbs). After a three-round beat down, the bout was called at the 3:00 point of the third round, giving Herring a TKO victory.

ADRIEN BRONER VS. GAVIN REES POST-FIGHT QUOTES

ADRIEN BRONER, WBC Lightweight World Champion

“I knew he [Rees] was going to come to fight. He’s a world-class fighter.

“He [Rees] kept coming. He threw every shot like it was his best shot. I knew he would hang.

“When you have two world-class fighters going toe-to-toe, it’s going to be a great fight.

“Thanks to everyone who came out. It’s [NBA] All-Star Weekend and you came to see an All-Star.

“He’s [Rees] tougher than a steak that’s been well done.

“If I fought Ricky Burns, he would get burnt out. I want to fight him, but if he doesn’t want to fight me. Oh well.

“There are high expectations for me to take boxing over after [Floyd] Mayweather and [Manny] Pacquiao hang up their gloves.

“Tonight was a nice fight. I have to go back and watch it. Overall I felt pretty. I just looked in the mirror and I still look good.

“I would fight 10 times a year if I could.”

GAVIN REES, Former World Champion

“He’s [Broner] the best I have ever been in [the ring] with. It’s not a case of whether he will go on to be a super star… he is already there.

“I made a lot of mistakes and I believe I have a better skill set than that.

“I knew he [Broner] hit hard, but his power just stunned me. I got reckless and that was the end of the night, but I was always going to get back up.

“I would have gone on until I was knocked out cold. I disagree with Gary pulling me out, but he knows that I would have gotten hurt. We are good friends and he was just looking out for me.”

MIKE STAFFORD, Broner’s Trainer

“We knew Gavin was going to come in [to fight]. I wanted Adrien to take his time and pick his punches.

“He made mistakes and Adrien countered each mistake he made.

“Gavin was a great fighter for two rounds. I knew he was going to try his best to take Adrien out and Adrien capitalized on his mistakes and picked him apart.

“Believe it or not, you haven’t seen the whole package deal. It’s a secret that we behold in the gym.”

GARY LOCKETT, Rees’ Trainer

“I was going to pull him out in the fourth. I considered pulling him out after the third, but I knew he would say ‘there is no way.'”

Los Angeles middleweight Sergio Mora has agreed to fight Jesus Gonzales on April 19 in Phoenix, Gonzales’ hometown, but only if the bout is televised.

No television, no fight, Mora said Thursday night.

“We’ve settled on the money, the weight, the date and place,’’ Mora said. “But I don’t want to go into the other guy’s town, get robbed and it’s not on TV.’’

As of Thursday, there was no television deal for the bout at a still undetermined location in Phoenix.

Mora (23-3-2, 7 KOs) said he hoped to hear within a few days as to whether Fan Base Promotions of Calgary, Canada, has a television deal. Fan Base promoted a Gonzales victory over Francisco Sierra in July 2011 at US Airways Center in a bout televised by ESPN2. An estimated crowd of 5,000 turned out to see Gonzales (27-2, 14 KOs), a former prospect who continues to be popular in Phoenix. Some argue that the live gate was hurt by an early start dictated by the ESPN schedule. The card at the downtown Phoenix arena began at about 5 p.m. on a work day.

There’s no guarantee that television coverage eliminate hometown bias in the judges and/or referee.

“I just want to make sure that the boxers, people in the business and fans know what happened,’’ Mora said.

Mora says he was robbed twice on the scorecards in losses to Brian Vera, a Texas middleweight. A split decision favored Vera in Fort Worth in 2011. Vera got a majority decision in San Antonio in August. Both were telecast by Telefutura. Mora argues he won both. The video won’t reverse either defeat.

“But it’s always there, if you want to see who really won,’’ Mora said.

Gonzales, who plans to be back at 160 pounds after fighting at super-middleweight, is already planning to train in Las Vegas. Jeff Mayweather will work as his trainer.

“I’ll be in training camp next week, in Las Vegas with Jeff,’’ said Gonzales, who hasn’t fought since emerging Adonis Stevenson knocked him out in a devastating first-round stoppage in Montreal a year ago. “I think Mora is a smart fighter, so I really have to be in top shape and sharp, because his goal is to try and make me look bad. I think this fight will put me back in a great position in my career.’’

Mora is also restless for a fight he hopes will re-ignite his career.

“It’s been a long layoff,’’ said Mora, who got a draw in 2010 with Shane Mosley, then a fading legend. “After that big knockout, I think that this would just be another fight for him. Nobody has ever beaten me decisively. I need a win that will put me back on track.’’

And on TV.

HOUSTON – At this city’s Museum of Fine Arts is a historic exhibition called “Portrait of Spain” that is historic, in part, because of the decimated Spanish economy that encouraged Museo Nacional del Prado to begin lending to American museums a trove of masterworks created for 17th century royalty and expected not to leave their homeland. While the reason to attend such an exhibition is to see, outside Madrid, six-foot-high works by Diego Velazquez, an artist Spain would argue remains the world’s greatest portraitist, the Velazquez works may not be the exhibition’s most awesome.

In our sport’s cancelled first quarter of 2013, it appears a better pursuit to examine our recollections of masterworks abstractly and apply what abstractions result than try the intellectual’s feat of elevating lesser events and their participants to prove it can be done. Let us consider, then, prodigy, like Adrien Broner’s and Floyd Mayweather’s, and prodigy-cum-mastery, like Muhammad Ali’s, in an age marked by its postmodernism – an architectural example of which, this city’s RepublicBank Center, adorns the page.

It is the embroidery on the stockings one is most likely to miss, whether gazing briefly at Antonio De Pereda’s “The relief of Genoa by the second Marquis of Santa Cruz” or studying it for hours at MFAH’s current exhibition. Of the many colorful figures in the enormous work (it is 9 1/2 feet high and 12 feet wide), six wear stockings that are visible and feature embroidery. It is a detail that belies the age of its artist – for Pereda was only 24 when he created it. In the masterpiece’s center, where the doge’s red velvet gown reflects the marquis’ steel breastplate that is itself reflective of the doge’s gown, one finds evidence of what tricks Pereda already knew, tricks enough to be invited to contribute to a Hall of Realms that would feature Velazquez himself. Pereda probably never surpassed, in four decades of trying, what he did at age 24.

Therein lies a lesson about prodigy: It is wrong to assume about it a steady rate of acceleration, though we invariably do – “If he is capable of this at such a young age, imagine what the future holds!” Prodigy rarely works like that. While most every master, of whatever craft, begins as a prodigy, very few prodigies grow to become masters, and more frustratingly still, many of them fail even to surpass their later-arriving peers whose rate of acceleration is both lower and more constant.

HBO’s Max Kellerman alluded to something like this during the telecast of Adrien Broner’s last match, an eight-round going-through of Antonio Demarco in November; most of the signature matches in a master’s career happen well past his physical prime, as the prime is a perishable thing. The greatest Muhammad Ali the world saw, according to Howard Cosell, was the 24-year-old who stopped Cleveland Williams in three rounds in a now-defunct concept called Astrodome that stands, still, six miles south of where this is written, and yet, who that recounts the achievements of Ali’s career thinks to include that Williams fight in his first 10 citations?

There is not yet evidence Adrien Broner’s talent may not be a prodigious one that grows into mastery, and no such evidence is expected Saturday when he defends his lightweight title against Gavin Rees, a 32-year-old Welshman making his maiden voyage across the pond for his 40th prizefight – which is another way of imparting that Rees is a designated opponent for Broner. Expect dancing and showmanship from Broner and zealous overselling by HBO who, in case it went unnoticed, has no real pay-per-view fixture to replace what revenue is now lost to Manny Pacquiao and will be lost soon to Floyd Mayweather.

Broner promotes himself as an eventual replacement for Mayweather, and while that is possible, it is unlikely, as Broner, who has most of Mayweather’s talent and maturity, is about to be asked to support an economy at a much, much younger age than Mayweather was when he assumed half the burden from Oscar De La Hoya and shared it four years with Pacquiao. The mistakes Mayweather made between his 24th birthday (Broner’s will come in July) and his fight with De La Hoya were many and also comparatively unnoticed because Mayweather’s then-promoter, Top Rank, had other assets in its portfolio, including De La Hoya himself. Broner, managed by Al Haymon and sublet to Golden Boy Promotions, hasn’t the same luxury of obscurity Mayweather had – and everything one needs to know about Broner’s emotional IQ can be learned by asking “The Problem” if he thinks obscurity and luxury may coexist.

There is worse news for those who would profit by Broner’s ascendency, though, and it is the judgment on imitation passed by this, our postmodern age. If one seeks to be a blatant imitation of another, he’d best do it ironically – à la Hector Camacho Jr. – and even then expect harsh reviews and, more importantly to anyone who’d try such a gambit, diminished returns. Postmodernism, as an aesthetic philosophy, allows junk to be praised so long as it is original but shows little mercy to others’ ideas reworked even carefully or faithfully.

There appears little that is careful or particularly faithful in Broner’s rework of Mayweather’s invention, and so, unless one thinks a talking hairbrush on free social media is the way to a million pay-per viewers, it is time to hope someone discovers originality within Broner by subjecting his prodigious talent to transcendent competition – which Broner, through no fault of his own, will not find at 135 pounds or even 140, if we’re being honest.

Unbeknownst to them, a growing number of people’s future paychecks depend on Broner’s willingness to do something startling, like leap from lightweight to welterweight, right now, while he is in his prime, that fleeting thing.

Bart Barry can be reached at bart.barrys.email (at) gmail.com.

Makeup hid the facial tattoo, but there’s no disguise for Mike Tyson.

Never will be.

Tyson’s guest appearance Wednesday night on Law & Order: SVU has been called competent by television critics, who know a lot more about the performing arts than anybody in a ringside seat. Tyson plays Reggie Rhodes, a death-row inmate and victim of multiple child rapes.

Tyson’s role is complicated and controversial, mostly because of his rape conviction in 1992. From this ringside seat, there’s nothing new about that. He’s always been complicated and controversial, regardless of whether that role has him between the ropes, on stage, or in prison.

Like boxing promoters, that’s what Law & Order: SVU was selling. Complications and controversy attract an audience. No secret in that formula. Tyson wears both better than ever. Like the Maori tattoo he got in 2003, they look as if they’ve always been there

When NBC announced the episode a few months ago, there were predictable condemnations and a Change.org petition with more than 15,000 signatures demanding that Tyson be removed from the cast. No chance of that. Promoters and producers, alike, understand the value of publicity, controversial or not.

No matter what you believe about Tyson, his new found life on stage is as fascinating as his former one was in the ring. It’s also another contradiction among many in a personality that is predator, prey and everything in between. Tyson can’t act. He just plays himself. Few do it so well. It’s the genuine in him, I think, that makes him so compelling.

In the Rhodes role, Tyson appears in the prison garb he has worn and looks out from behind the bars he has seen. Early in the show, the predator’s anger flashes when he tells detective Fin Tutuola, played by Ice-T, to get the hell away from him. The prey’s vulnerability is there when he tells an attorney and detective about growing up as an abused kid. In the end, he hugs the attorney and a detective who saved him from the executioner’s needle. Within an hour, it’s Tyson in a shot glass, 180 proof.

There are some subtle touches. The Rhodes character is an inmate in an Ohio prison, which is the state where Tyson’s former promoter, Don King, served almost four years on a manslaughter charge committed in Cleveland during the 1960s. The Rhodes character was convicted for a murder in Cleveland, King’s hometown.

Since Tyson’s release in 1995 after three years in an Indiana prison for rape, he has always said he was innocent of the crime. Believe what you want about his conviction. I have no way of knowing what happened on that night in Indianapolis with Desiree Washington.

I do know this: As a writer for The Arizona Republic, I reported in 2001 that Tyson underwent a polygraph in Phoenix that showed he was being truthful when he said he did not commit rape. At the time, he was being investigated for sexual assault in Big Bear, Calif., where he had been training for a victory over Brian Nielsen in Denmark.

According to a transcript of a polygraph conducted on Aug. 8 of 2001, Tyson answered four key questions. Three asked whether the alleged victim was forced into sex, whether she was harmed and whether she was restrained. Tyson answered no to each. In the fourth question, he was asked whether the sex was consensual. Yes, he said.

On the polygraph chart, Tyson scored +24. According to a scale devised at the University of Utah, he needed a +6 to be truthful. A -6 would have judged him a liar.

About 10 days after the polygraph, the San Bernardino (Calif.) County Attorney’s Office dropped the investigation of an incident alleged to have happened in Big Bear in mid-July.

Then, there is Harvard law professor Alan Dershowitz, who cast doubt on Tyson’s 1992 conviction in his 2004 book, America On Trial, Inside The Legal Battles That Transformed Our Nation.

Dershowitz writes that evidence was withheld from the jury. Meanwhile, the jury also heard evidence that Dershowitz says was false. The professor also writes that three witnesses were not allowed to testify. He argues that their testimony would have kept Tyson out of a jail.

If this sounds familiar, it is. Wednesday’s fictional plot includes withheld evidence and altered evidence in a rigged process that resulted in the death penalty for Tyson’s character.

Coincidence? Maybe.

But Tyson’s life has always imitated art.

On a bench beside the black metal steps to an elevated ring sits a semitransparent and well-gnawed gumshield with a lemon-yellow frontispiece and several layers of blood and slobber that film its ridges. It balances too perfectly atop a bloodstained handtowel atop a mildewed t-shirt.

“What’s this, Fortino?” says a tall Mexican with a black goatee, prickly but straight, and a gentle handshake.

“Quinteros left it,” says the manager.

“Quinteros?” says the tall Mexican. “It’s not his, is it?”

The manager’s smooth brown face, taupe in the basement’s dim light, unfolds in a smile. “It’s Quinteros’. He left everything – mouthguard, shirt, headgear – and took off.”

“It was his turn, eh?”

“Seth made a little altar on the bench.”

“Pinche Seth.”

*

“Do you think nine pounds is too much?” he asks the older guy sitting next to him on the periwinkle paint of the wooden bench, its ankle-level scars splintered and glowing yellow.

“That’s not so much the way to think about it, I don’t think,” the older guy says, still in his navy sweatshirt from the trip southwards, his white Everlast boots coffee brown on the edges where the outsides of his feet sometimes fold over their treads. “Nine pounds for me would be, what, three-, four-percent difference?”

He hopes the lovely boy doesn’t do the arithmetic and learn how much he weighs, or shame him for lowballing.

“But for me, it’s a much bigger difference?” the younger guy says.

“Isn’t it?”

“I sparred with a guy who was 117 earlier.”

“How’d it go?”

“I felt slow. He felt big.”

“That how much he weighed?” the older guy says, and he looks at the kid’s thick dark hair and delicate features and wants to ask why he puts himself through it. “What’re you at?”

“A hundred this afternoon.”

“Why’re you jumping rope six rounds after your workout?”

“You think I should?”

“I think you should pick up 12 pounds for next year’s Gloves,” the older guy says. “Or lobby that writer guy to lobby for a men’s light flyweight.”

*

“You know Saturday’s my birthday?” the kid says, trotting over to fist bump the gym’s oldest practitioner, a writer nobody at the gym reads but the manager abides because while he never wins trophies for the gym he brings souvenirs from Vegas, and makes fun of himself.

“How old?” the writer says.

“I’ll be ten.”

“Perfect for the 2020 Olympics, I tell him,” says the kid’s dad, who once trained under Joe Souza but is now the age of the writer. “Where are those going to be held?”

The writer shrugs.

“I’ll be ten,” the kid says, and he studies the writer.

“Hey, man,” the writer says, and he pokes Manny Pacquiao’s face on the kid’s black t-shirt. “I already got you your present.”

“I’m having cake, here, Friday,” the kid says.

“He’s lobbying for another t-shirt,” the writer says to the kid’s dad, and both men laugh.

“So much for the surprise party,” the kid’s dad says, and he self-consciously plucks the black cotton twill of his polo shirt off his belly. “Try keeping a secret round here.”

*

“So I told him, ‘Padre, we need a big cooler for beer,’” says a man who walks with a cane, cannot raise either hand above his head, and supervises whenever Fortino goes upstairs to watch gals do roller derby. “Once Padre got us that, we had no trouble getting Special Forces in to protect us.”

“The fog of war, huh?” says a tall Puerto Rican trainer, a handsome barber who does saintly work with kids on weeknights after nine hours of cutting heads till six.

“Not yet, not yet,” says the assistant manager, and he chuckles theatrically. “That was ’65. It wasn’t too bad yet.”

“Hold on, I gotta take this,” the trainer says, and he raises a blackberry to his ear and uh-huhs till lowering the phone and glaring at its face.

“Lady troubles?” the assistant manager says. “Oh man, after the war, I started with the city, this is before SAWS –”

“A mugroso barcode reader,” says the Puerto Rican. “My wife found a sticker on the floormat of the ride last week. It says nothing about nothing, right? Just a barcode.”

“Uh huh,” says the assistant manager. “Uh oh.”

“My wife’s friend, like some forensics master, tells her they make apps that read’em. My wife downloads the stupid app, and it’s for flowers.”

*

“What’s up with southpaw?” says a portly Texan who will start with USAA’s mortgage department in March.

“Just trying it out,” says an 18 year-old, Jesus, whose worried grandmother paid for his move from Santa Paula, Calif., in December. “The left isn’t there, but the right hook, man?”

“Excellent?”

“Excellent!”

“If I could do what you do standing regular –”

“But you can’t,” Jesus says. “So leave it to the ones who can.”

Both laugh.

“I like to consider myself as ambidextrous,” says Jesus.

“You spar southpaw yet?”

“Next week.”

“We’ll see if Life considers you ‘as ambidextrous,’ then.”

*

“I’m proud of you, mija,” says the gym’s oldest trainer to a voluptuous Mexican girl in a shaved head, olive sports bra and black sweatpants. “That’s what you got to do every night here.”

“Thanks, Coach,” she says. “I no getting tired.”

“Because you’re using the big muscles.”

“It felt much more hard.”

“Remember that on the hook, OK,” he says, and he rises from the back steps where his charge sits, a brown roll of flesh above the band of her sweats. “Picture like your hitting the bag with the inside of your left hip, first.”

“I go now?”

“Yes, mija,” he says. “Everything OK with your tía?”

“Más o menos,” she says, and she raises her right hand, thumb over pinky, pinky over thumb. “She feels it.”

The old trainer rises after she’s gone, straightens his black ball cap – “Army Strong” in shiny gold script – slaps a wrinkle off the right thigh of his slate-grey slacks, and raises his right hand.

“Taking off?” calls the manager.

“Have a good night, Fortino.”

Bart Barry can be reached at bartbarrys.email (at) gmail.com

Jose Felix scored a ten round unanimous decision over Gerardo Robles in a Lightweight bout in McAllen, Texas

Felix controlled the fight with the exception of being deducted a point in round seven for a low blow.

Scores were 98-91, 97-92 and 96-93 for Felix, 134 lbs of Los Mochis, MX and is now 23-0-1. Robles, 134 lbs of Durango, MX is now 18-11

David Rios remained undefeated with a four round unanimous decision over Noe Santamaria in a Lightweight bout.

Scores were 40-36, 39-37 and 39-37 for Diaz who is now 2-0. Santamaria is now 1-4

Yuriorkis Gamboa’s name in a Miami New Times story this week about an anti-aging clinic that allegedly supplied performance enhancers isn’t exactly a surprise. Names and suspicions are part of any game these days. Expect more. Many more.

Other than the notable exception of super-bantamweight and Fighter of the Year Nonito Donaire, just about everybody is a suspected PED user. Sure, it’s unfair.

But Lance Armstrong’s two-part series in Oprah’s confessional explains why. Armstrong provides a twisted rationale for all the users with his cynical definition of cheating. If everybody is doing it, it’s not cheating, said Armstrong, who said he consulted a dictionary. It’s just a level playing field, said Armstrong, who apparently forgot to look up ethical.

Travis Tygart of the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency responded by telling CBS’ 60 Minutes that clean athletes know what cheating is. They know that it’s breaking the rules, Tygart said. But do they? Do they really?

I can’t help but think that Armstrong’s sad example is convincing more young athletes than Tygart’s argument is. It’s especially problematic in boxing, increasingly international and forever chaotic. In the United States, commissions don’t have the budgets or expertise to test for the sophisticated variety of PEDS that the Miami New Times reported was available at Biogenisis. The story also included baseball stars Alex Rodriguez of the New York Yankees and Melky Cabrera of the San Francisco Giants. If baseball players are still using despite reports about an effort to end the steroid era, what does that say about boxing? It means heightened suspicions, although there’s reason to think the public doesn’t care much anymore.

As suspicions grow, however, there’s a rush to find the next best thing in the PED arms’ race. With every shooting, more guns are sold. That’s not a level playing field.

At least, it’s not in boxing.

It’s a dangerous one and will probably continue to be until there’s a tragedy that forces somebody outside of the sport to do what nobody within it will. For a sport always in a fight to survive, that might be the biggest danger of all.

AZ Notes
· An exhibition of the Irish side to boxing history opened Thursday in Phoenix at the McClelland Irish Library on Central Avenue, just a few miles of roadwork from Central Boxing and Hall of Famer Michael Carbajal’s Ninth Street Gym. The traveling exhibit, “The Fighting Irishmen: Celebrating Celtic Prizefighters 1820-Present,” includes more than 1,000 pieces of memorabilia valued at more than $340,000. It includes Muhammad Ali’s gloves, robes, bags and photos. Ali, a Phoenix resident during the winter, traces his Irish roots to a great grandfather. The exhibit is scheduled to be in Phoenix through May.

· Likable Jesus Gonzales, a one-time prospect from Phoenix, hopes to get his career back on track against Sergio Mora. Talks have been underway with Gonzales promoter Darin Schmick of Calgary, said Gonzales (27-2, 14 KOs), who hasn’t fought since Adonis Stevenson stopped him in the first round of a super-middleweight bout a year ago in Montreal. “Darin says everything is looking good for April,’’ said Gonzales, who plans to move back down the scale to middleweight. “Nothing confirmed, but it’s still exciting. If it happens, it will be in Phoenix, but the venue hasn’t been picked either. I’m training for the fight and I’m optimistic about the fight happening.’’ Mora (23-3-2, 7 KOs) is coming off a draw with Brian Vera last August in San Antonio.

The opening minute of Saturday’s main event on Showtime, Argentine junior welterweight titlist Lucas Matthysse versus American Mike Dallas, showed such a disparity of speed, the Argentine in black so much slower than the American in silver, one could be forgiven sliding from the edge of his chair to its back – the better for observing 12 rounds of violence. But 86 seconds later Matthysse knocked Dallas inanimate with a right hand, and whatever other thoughts traffic in a cluttered mind got canceled as if they were Dallas’ own cache.

Surely none were what thoughts filled Dallas’ mind immediately before the blue glove on Matthysse’s right fist did, but in case any doubts persist, here is onesuch that happened during Matthysse’s ringwalk: Can the works of South American artist Fernando Botero improve our understanding of South American prizefighter Lucas Mathysse?

In the tears he wept immediately after knocking-out Mike Dallas at 2:26 of round 1, Matthysse betrayed a set of emotions more complicated than what American sports fans usually must decipher. They were not anything like the clichéd tears-of-joy from which millions of Americans will drink Sunday, immediately following the Super Bowl, when any one of 20 or 30 cameras will keep chasing athletes’ countenances till someone on the winning team is found to emote for America, and “put in perspective” for us how profoundly meaningful these 21 weeks of games and thousands of hours of commercials have been.

In Matthysse’s tears was something nearer ambivalence; the act of rendering another man unconscious is cathartic, but if catharses comprised joy alone, we’d call them joyful outbursts and not catharses. Matthysse’s authenticity was particularly telling when set against his interviewer’s callousness and cynicism. Matthysse ingested an amino-acid pill of some kind before his round of work with Dallas, and admitted to washing it down with (yerba) mate – a South American tea made from dried leaves and considered the national drink of Argentina – assuring his interviewer it was the same concoction he took before every fight, failing nary a drug test along the way.

Matthysse’s answer, and the way it disarmed the requisite postfight controversy on which this interviewer now bases his career, such as it is, brought a palpable deflation to what followed, even as what followed was an examination of the human condition that is the very reason a sport brutal and grotesque as ours shows the endurance it does. Imagine what might have come of an inquiry simple as: “What other than victory is making you cry, Lucas?” Or would the minute-long detour such complexity might bring hinder too overtly Showtime’s next promotional skit?

When he is considered at all by American museum-goers, Colombian artist Fernando Botero is treated as a descendent of 20th-century Mexicans – Rivera’s shapes, Kahlo’s colors – with a flair for Warhol’s poster-making digestibility, and a bent for depicting obesity. It is a facile analysis, of course, but it does the trick for persons generally less interested in looking at art than being seen looking at art. Botero, conversely, began by doing something that almost could be called a caricature of what Pablo Picasso saw while standing before Diego Velazquez: “The purpose of my style is to exalt the volumes, not only because that enlarges the area in which I can apply more color, but also because it conveys the sensuality, the exuberance, the profusion of the form I am searching for.”

Botero did it, though, without Picasso’s willingness to exploit others’ gifts for irony – for saying “oh yes, I see so many bulls’ faces hidden in ‘Guernica’!” while meaning something quite the opposite. In his own words, Botero is after sensuality and exuberance, of colored voluptuousness before sexuality, and he discovered that compressing his subjects, making them squatter – though rarely fatter – allowed him to make what Nobel Laureate Mario Vargas Llosa calls Botero’s “sumptuous abundance.”

A South American compressing forms and making exuberance is exactly what happened Saturday. What Matthysse threw at Dallas was a standard enough counter – catch the jab, release the right hand over it – but Matthysse’s power compressed the form and made it something else entirely. There was composition there, as well; it was a more educated move than Matthysse’s detractors, who see wild swings and little head movement, credit him with. A moment after being hit by Dallas’ first double jab, which arrived almost too quickly, Matthysse posited Dallas was not returning his left fist to his chin before throwing the second punch. Matthysse, then, considerably slower of hand than Dallas, did not need to punch with Dallas so much as place his right hand in the space between Dallas’ two jabs. He did that, and Dallas went stiff and landed on his face and stayed there.

In his essay “A Painter of Lost and Angry Pictures” curator David Elliott writes: “If Botero has often been intent on emphasizing the aesthetic attributes of his works, these cannot be isolated from their content which, while avoiding sentimentality or nostalgia, is often intensely emotional.”

And so it is for Matthysse as well. As he showed after rendering Mike Dallas unconscious, Matthysse is not machine-like as his supporters believe. He is, in his way, sumptuous; there is a vulnerability to him, be it in his body art or absence of postfight machismo, that reaches women before it reaches men – or didn’t you hear the pitch of cheers for Matthysse as he made his way to the ring? Matthysse, like his countryman and occasional sparring partner Sergio Martinez, is an entirely more complicated animal than the profitably cardboard figures of obliging American athletes. The difference between a South American like Matthysse and an American like, say, Adrien Broner is the difference between a Botero and a Warhol.

***

Author’s note: Special thanks to Art Services International, whose excellent collection of essays in its catalog “The Baroque World of Fernando Botero” proved helpful.

Bart Barry can be reached at bart.barrys.email (at) gmail.com

Lucas Matthysse made a big statement in calling for a fight with the winner of Danny Garcia and Zab Juah as he scored a spectacular first round knockout over Mike Dallas Jr. in a scheduled twelve round Super Lightweight bout at the Joint at The Hard Rock in Las Vegas.

It took one blistering right hand to knock Dallas out on his feet and he plummeted to the canvas as Matthysse missed two follow up shots and referee Robert Byrd called the bout off immedately.

Matthysse, of Argentina is now 33-2-1 with 31 knockouts. Dallas of Bakersfield, CA is now 19-3-1.

Jesus Soto Karass scored ten round majority decision over Selcuk Aydin in a Welterweight bout.

Soto Karass pushed the action and consistently had Aydin backing up.

Scores were 97-93 on two cards and 95-95.

Soto Karass, 148 lbs of North Hollywood, CA is now 27-8-3-1. Aydin, 149 lbs of Tonazza, Turkey is now 23-2.

Jermell Charlo remained perfect by scoring an eighth round stoppage over Harry Joe Yorgey in a scheduled ten round Jr. Middleweight bout.

Charlo looked very good and flashed explosive speed that led to two knockdowns in round two. The first knockdown was scored from a hard right hand. Again it was the right that was responsible for the second knockdown.

Yorgey was not very active and it was Charlo’s skills that was the cause of the inactivity. Yorgey started to bleed from around the left eye in round seven. Charlo scored a vicious one-two combination that sent Yorgey slowly to his knee in round eight. Yorget beat referee Kenny Bayless count but took a step backwards and the fight was waved off at 1:09 of round eight.

Charlo, 153 1/2 lbs of Houston, TX us 20-0 with 10 knockouts. Yorgey, 153 1/2 lbs of Bridgeport, PA is now 25-2-1.

Francisco Vargas scored a second round stoppage over Ira Terry in a Jr. Lightweight bout.

Vargas landed a hard right hand that sent Terry down for the ten count and the bout was waved off at 1:46 of round two.

Garcia, 130 lbs of Mexico City is now 15-0-1 with 12 knockouts. Terry, 129 lbs of Memphis, TN is now 26-11.

Julian Williams remained undefeated by stopping Jeremiah Wiggins in round seven of an eight round Jr. Middleweight bout.

Williams dominated the action and hurt Wiggins repeatedly throughout the fight. Williams had extremely string rounds in three, four, five and six as landed hard shots with both hands. Wiggins stayed in the fight by occasionally landing combinations but never had Williams in serious trouble.

Williams landed a huge left hook in round seven that set off a barrage of punches on the ropes that facilitated Wiggins corner to throw in the towel.

Williams, 154 1/s lbs of Philadelphia is now 11-0-1 with six knockouts. Wiggins, 151 lbs of Newport News, VA is now 10-2-1

2012 U.S. Olympian Errol Spence Jr. drilled overmatched Nathan Butcher in the first round of a scheduled four round Welterweight bout.

Spence landed a right to the body that was followed by a vicious right and left to the head that had Butcher sprawling into the ropes and referee Russell Mora stopped the bout at 1:03 of round one.

Spence of Dallas is 3-0 with all wins coming via knockout. Butcher of Huntington, WV is 0-2.

Billy Lyell might have a better chance than bullies and obesity.

Danny Jacobs will fight them all in an ongoing battle that puts some real meaning back into that cliché about going the distance. There’s little on either side of the ropes that Jacobs won’t fight.

Jacobs whipped cancer. He defied doctors who told him he’d never fight again when a tumor was found locked around his spine. It left him partially paralyzed. It could have choked the life out of him. It didn’t. Instead, it has awakened in Jacobs a stubborn willingness to fight anybody, anything.

“I feel like I was meant to do this,’’ Jacobs said Thursday in a conference call that included confirmation he will face Lyell, of Youngstown, Ohio, on Feb 9 at Brooklyn’s Barclays Center in his third bout since he was diagnosed with cancer in May, 2011.

Jacobs’ quest to resurrect his career as a promising middleweight coincides with causes he feels compelled to pursue. He’s calling out bullies who terrorize kids with taunts and threats. He’s calling out the fast-food diets that lead to obesity and ill health.

“I’ve always been a giving kind of person,’’ said Jacobs, who has created a foundation, Get In The Ring, to fight battles he saw so many lose while growing up in Brooklyn’s Brownsville neighborhood. “Obesity was one of those things that nobody in the neighborhood could get past. You need money to buy good food. The people in my neighborhood are poor. They buy the food that they can make last. But it isn’t nutritious. If I can help change that, I’d love to.’’

Then, there are the bullies. Like so many kids, Jacobs was one of their targets. He learned how to stand up to them by going to a gym, where he discovered he had real athletic talent. But few do. He says he reads about scared kids who commit suicide. He’s seen them. He knows them.

“I want to create a program that teaches kids that words can’t hurt them,’’ said Jacobs, whose foundation will also include the ongoing fight against cancer.

It was his own diagnosis that motivated Jacobs to take on his causes with real action instead of mere words.

“I didn’t have health insurance, so I saw how difficult it is for so many people,’’ said Jacobs, who in October scored a first-round stoppage of Josh Luteran in his first bout since surgery and followed up with a fifth-round stoppage of Chris Fitzpatrick on Dec. 1. “I decided that if I could ever help, I would.’’

The remarkable resumption of his boxing career puts a spotlight on the bigger fight to help his community. He was subjected to radiation treatment 25 times over a two-month span. He underwent a nine-hour procedure to remove a walnut-size tumor. In less than two years, he’s back in the ring, where he says he feels as healthy as he ever has. It’s no wonder he has a new nickname. Before the diagnosis, he was called The Golden Child. Now, he’s The Miracle Man.

“I am completely 100 percent,’’ said Jacobs (24-1, 21 KOs), who will fight Lyell (24-11, 5 KOs) on a Showtime-televised card featuring Danny Garcia against Zab Judah. “The cancer is gone. My back feels strong. Absolutely, I feel like things have turned a complete 360 for me.’’

Before the diagnosis, Jacob’s promising career took a hit with a loss in July, 2010 to Dmitry Pirog, who stopped him in fifth-round stunner in Las Vegas. First, there were doubts. Then, there was cancer. In whipping the disease, Jacobs is confident that anything is possible.

By the end of 2013, he hopes to put himself back in contention.

“After a couple of more fights, I definitely would like to be in a fight against the top 10, if not the top 15,’’ said Jacobs, who said he would like avenge the loss to Pirog in a rematch. “I feel like the rust is out.’’

He knows the cancer is.

It was another night of Dibella Entertainment’s Broadway Boxing in New York City. Tonight’s venue was the B. B. King Blues Club in the heart of Times Square and featured some thrilling bouts. The headline saw Luis Rosa (11-0, 6 KO’s, 123lbs) take on the tough Derrick Wilson (9-3, 3 KO’s, 122lbs), who is much better than his record shows, as he has made a career out of making good fighters look bad in their own backyards.

Things started off quickly for both fighters. They wasted no time getting to know each other and exchanged hard blows. Wilson was the rangier fighter of the two, landing hard blows from a distance, while Rosa did most of his damage from the inside. It was a perfect clash of styles as both fighters walloped each other for the full eight rounds of a very close fight. Entering the seventh round, the bout seemed even, and Rosa’s hard body work earlier in the fight seemed to be paying off, as Wilson seemed visibly tired. Rosa won that round by being more active. The final scores read 80-72, 77-75, and 77-75 in favor of Rosa, giving him a majority decision victory. The 80-72 score was ridiculous, but the other two scores show that the fight was even going into the final round, so Rosa’s early bodywork coupled with his late aggression won him the fight.

It has been nearly two years since Yuri Foreman (28-2, 8 KO’s, 154lbs) stepped into a boxing ring. He injured his knee against Pawel Wolak in March of 2011, and was forced to undergo reconstruction surgery which kept him out of boxing for longer than he would have liked. Last night, he took on Brandon Baue (12-9, 10 KO’s, 157 ½lbs) in a bout scheduled for six rounds. Foreman opened the fight working behind his jab and using his always elusive lateral movement. His movement seemed perfectly fine, but he made sure to not take too many risks. He was certainly rusty, missing blows that he would have normally landed flush, as well as getting hit with punches that he normally would never get hit by. Either way, Foreman was still dominating. But as the bout progressed, he slowly put things into place and began to let his hands go more. He countered Baue’s right hand constantly, and occasionally worked the body well. Foreman never pressed the action, which forced Baue to throw more and make mistakes; mistakes that Foreman took advantage of time and time again. After six rounds, all three judges scored the fight 60-54 in favor of Foreman, giving him a unanimous decision victory.

In an exciting brawl, Lamar Russ (11-0, 7 KO’s, 161lbs) took on Jose Medina (17-11-1, 7 KO’s, 162lbs). Russ worked from a distance with a solid jab and right hook. It was Russ who got things going early with his hard blows. Medina came back with a right hand counter that stopped Russ in his tracks, but that was only for a moment as he came back with more big punches. These back and forth exchanges continued for the full eight rounds, but it was Russ whose punches came at a much higher volume. The final scores read 78-74, 78-74, and 77-75.

The popular Heather Hardy (3-0, 0 KO’s, 122lbs) took to the ring against Margaret Maerz (2-2-1, 0 KO’s, 119lbs). All of Hardy’s fights have featured nonstop action, and this one was no different. Hardy’s right hook landed with frequency throughout the bout, but Maerz also sported a solid straight right that kept Hardy’s onslaught in check. In the end, Hardy was too much and won with scores of 40-36, 39-37, and 39-37 for a unanimous decision.

Delen Parsley (9-0, 2 KO’s, 159lbs) needed only two rounds to dispose of Tyron Selders (8-4, 6 KO’s, 160lbs). The first round saw Selders in control with an extremely high work rate. As the round was about to end, he surged towards Parsley, who was unloading a counter just as the bell rang. A split second after the bell rang, that counter right hand landed flush on Selders chin. He barely beat the count and staggered back to his corner. The second round saw Selders get his legs back under him and continue his aggression, but Parsley knew that his power would make a difference. He threw much more, and battered Selders over the course of the second round. In between rounds, Selders corner had to stop the bout as he had taken too much punishment. The official ruling is a TKO at :00 of the third round.

In his professional debut, heavyweight Eugene Russell (240lbs) made short work of Granson Clark (1-1, 1 KO, 219lbs), needing only 2:51 seconds to hammer down his opponent. He was victorious with a KO victory in front of his fans from the Queensbridge section of Queens, NY.

Skender Halili (7-0, 7 KO’s, 148lbs) looked to keep his perfect record intact when he took on Roberto Crespo (4-2, 0 KO’s, 147 ½lbs). The bout opened up with both fighters working their jab. Halili showcased an extremely powerful jab that often stopped Crespo in his tracks. Things began to heat up in the second. Halili had staggered Crespo with a jab and rushed forward hoping to lay some leather onto a back tracking Crespo, when out of nowhere, Crespo landed a right hook onto Halili’s temple, sending him down. Halili made it to his feet before the referee could even begin his count, but Crespo left an impression on Halili and the fans that we were in for a fight. Crespo finished off the round strong. Halili continued to work his jab, maintaining a safe distance and only coming in when he desired. Every punch he threw had bad intentions behind it. Not one punch was thrown in order to set up another. Instead, he threw his jab as if he was hoping to score a knockout off of it. A sight rarely seen.

As the bout progressed, Halili continued to come forward and land hard blows, while occasionally taking hard counterpunches in return. Then, out of nowhere, a short left uppercut on the inside sent Crespo down. He beat the count, but on shaky legs, and Halili pounced. This time, a left hook sent Crespo down for a second time. Crespo barely beat that count, and before any more damage could be done, he was saved by the bell. Entering the final round, fans in attendance wondered if Halili would go for broke and try and score a knockout. The two knockdowns essentially erased any doubt as to whether or not he was going to win the fight on points. He was surely ahead at that point. As the bell sounded for the final round, Halili stormed out of his corner and continued to apply the pressure. But Crespo defended himself well and stayed on his feet. About halfway through the round, Halili seemed to settle down. He stuck out his jab and appeared to be working his way towards a decision victory. But he had other things in mind. He lulled his opponent into thinking that things had died down, and that created an opening for Halili to unleash another left uppercut that landed square on Crespo’s chin. He was down for a third time, and the referee waved the fight off. Halili maintains his perfect record with a TKO victory at 2:40 of the 6th round.

Patrick Day (155lbs) scored an impressive 59 second knockout victory over Zachariah Kelley (1-1, 1 KO, 156lbs) in their bout.

Neuky Santelises (2-0, 1 KO, 133lbs) opened up the evening with a 2nd round knockout victory over Juan Javier Guerrero (0-0-1, 0 KO’s, 132lbs) at the :22 mark.

15rounds.com Claudia Bocanegra captured the images of last Saturday night’s championship tripleheader that saw great wins by Mikey Garcia and Gennady Golovkin as well as a disputed draw featuring Juan Carlos Burgos and Roman Martinez

We came to the moment for which we assembled, Saturday, the telling collection of intervals, two predecessors succeeded by the aptly named championship rounds, the young contender, having had the bridge of his nose crushed by the top of the other man’s head, would have to beat back the old champ, making him quit or at least relent enough to bring a satisfyingly definitive conclusion. Instead, his test sheet confidently filled, our prodigy strode to the room’s front and handed it to the proctor, and the proctor nodded sagely, took the crisp leaf from the student, turned, slipped it in the shredder beside his desk, and said: “That’s an A, champ!”

American Mikey Garcia dropped Mexican Orlando Salido four times in the opening four rounds of their Saturday fight for Salido’s WBO featherweight title – tempting, briefly, a line like “Trampler KO-4.” Noticeably, Garcia did not drop Salido again after round 4, though he staggered him a few times, notably in the sixth, after which, at the halfway point of the match, Garcia’s trainer and older brother, Robert, beseeched his charge to knock Salido out before any shenanigans ensued. A couple rounds later, shenanigans ensued when Salido landed a long right hand then brought his head crashing into Garcia’s relocated nose, breaking it. A ringside physician was hastily summoned and convinced noses are not broken in prizefighting, and the match was complicitly waived-off, giving Garcia a technical decision, Salido’s maroon belt and enough exculpation to keep an asterisk out of his biography – even if the young man never protested.

Likely, Mikey Garcia would have passed Salido’s inquisition well enough, but then, likelier still, Sergio Martinez would have made a quite different spectacle from the one he made in his final 90 seconds with Julio Cesar Chavez Jr. in September, no? The pair of minutes that followed Salido’s splintering Garcia’s cartilage, belaboring his breathing for what was to come and at least fraying the edges of Garcia’s composure, held in them a chance to learn everything left to know about Garcia, but instead left aficionados ignorant of Garcia’s capacity for adversity as we were when the night began.

Saturday’s main event also did nothing to help televised boxing’s mounting credibility problem. Without Larry Merchant to check enthusiasms any longer, HBO’s journalistic role has succumbed to its promotional one, and Showtime – whose Al Bernstein has nearly Merchant’s credibility but whose dissent is a negative thing (it is found in what he doesn’t say about a fight or fighter) – has rapturously embraced the role of “in association with” promoting.

This was what Saturday’s co-main brought on HBO, when, instead of forcing guest commentator Andre Ward to say what he doubtlessly noticed with wide eyes – that limited little Gabriel Rosado couldn’t miss Gennady Godzilla Golovkin with right uppercuts, as many as four in a row – viewers were treated to “middleweight Mike Tyson” comparisons, as if Rosado were a fraction of the light middleweight Michael Spinks was a light heavyweight, as if Tyson needed a corner stoppage after 20 1/2 minutes to finish Spinks rather than 91 seconds. Or is that analogy too much? It is too much, alas, and perhaps less appropriate than Shakespeare, so we’ll have some:

“As on the finger of a thronèd queen
The basest jewel will be well esteemed,
So are those errors that in thee are seen
To truths translated and for true things deemed.”

It is a sense that now overcomes viewers of the showcase events that have in the past composed an unseemly number of HBO matches: Regardless of what the a-side guy does, it will be celebrated. When Mikey Garcia (or Floyd Mayweather) retreats to the ropes, lands a potshot, clinches, and begins canvassing the canvas for a referee, it is at best evidence of the opponent’s inability to get anything done, and at worst a slightly boring but tolerable bit of strategizing by a master boxer. Which is fine, probably, so long as violent endings or accomplished opponents are en route.

But as Golovkin nears his 31st birthday, the best name on his resume remains Kassim Ouma, 2-5 in the 4 1/2 years before Golovkin got him; and while Garcia was probably going to beat Salido comfortably and possibly going to stop him, well. There was nothing to celebrate Saturday, and it does future celebrations no favors to force a celebration over what proved unsatisfying. These things need to happen organically, lest we get cases like Andre Berto or Victor Ortiz or James Kirkland, which seem, somehow, to check fans’ future enthusiasm fractionally much as they multiply their inevitable discontent.

Mikey Garcia is absolutely one of boxing’s best prospective attractions, and Golovkin is almost as likely the beast he appears in the gyms of Big Bear, Calif. But until Garcia is made uncomfortable by an opponent, or allowed, as the case may be, to continue with an opponent whose foul tactics render him uncomfortable, should anyone be sure? And while Golovkin probably is the robotic tenderizer of men’s flesh he appeared while walloping a 154-pounder with five losses – a man, it may be helpful to remember, whom Alfredo Angulo finished in less than a third of Golovkin’s time, at junior middleweight – must the coronation commence already, because it behooves ratings at boxing’s flagship network to manufacture and market new faces to viewers?

No and no – those are the answers, but since no one likes a scold, here’s a better note: Saturday’s three-fight card from New York was an excellent matchmaking start to HBO’s 2013, bereft of what cynicism we’ve seen from the network in bygone days; the main event featured two fighters from one promoter, yes, but Salido was universally believed a stern test for Garcia and proved to be, or would have. Neither fighter in the co-main belonged to the main-event’s promoter, and that too was excellent. There is quality control afoot at HBO, and since the on-air talent is going to sell instead of report to viewers whatever happens in front of them, this is something welcome as it is overdue.

Bart Barry can be reached at bart.barrys.email (at) gmail.com

The Theater at Madison Square Garden played host to three of boxing’s most anticipated fights as Top Rank in association with K2 Promotions showcased three world title fights in one night. The main event was a breakout performance for Mikey Garcia (30-0, 26 KOs, 125 ½lbs) who took on WBO featherweight champion Orlando Salido (39-11-2, 27 KOs, 126lbs). Things started quickly for Garcia when a left hook dropped Salido, who was lunging in with his head low. Not long afterwards, another spectacular punch sent Salido down again. After a dominant second round, Garcia knocked Salido down for a third time with another blow that Salido just simply didn’t see. This time it was a right uppercut. Garcia’s patience against the veteran Salido was impressive. Salido had been down countless times in the past, and Garcia made sure that he wouldn’t make a mistake despite his dominant start. To open the fourth round, a short right hand tagged Salido and sent him down yet again. Four knockdowns in four rounds, but none of them were particularly devastating. Salido quickly made it up to his feat each time, but despite stilly seemingly looking okay, Salido was sitting on an eight point deficit after only four rounds, and he was being thoroughly outclassed by his younger opponent.

Garcia is the textbook definition of an economical fighter. He doesn’t move unless it is to put his opponent in an unfavorable position where it would be difficult to land clean punches. He doesn’t throw punches for the sake of throwing punches. Each punch matters and they all serve a greater purpose. The left hooks that sent Salido down were simply short hooks that caught Salido with his head down trying to lunge inside. Other left hooks were thrown to shift Salido’s head into perfect range for his right hand.

There was only so much Salido could do to respond. He opened up the fifth round in a much more aggressive manner. He wasn’t going to tire Garcia out with the way he had been fighting, so he worked towards mauling Garcia against the ropes, leaning his body weight onto Garcia’s hoping to tire him out with sheer physicality. While Salido’s sloppier tactics improved things a bit, Garcia was still in total control. For every successful punch that Salido landed, Garcia landed an even more impressive one; often buckling the knees of Salido. By the eighth round, Salido came in with a right hook, and his head came forward, smashing into Garcia’s face. It created a loud smacking noise heard many rows back. After the round ended and Garcia walked towards his corner, it was clear that he had suffered a broken nose. Referee Benjy Esteves Jr. called in both ringside physicians to observe Garcia’s injury, and they both decided that Garcia was unfit to continue. Due to the accidental headbutt fight came to the scorecards, which were all in Garcia’s favor by a wide margin. The official scores read 79-70, 79-69, 79-69, giving Garcia the victory and his first world title.

Rising sensation Gennady Golovkin (24-0, 21 KOs, 160lbs) had a strong Kazakhstan showing when he defended his middleweight title against the talented Gabriel Rosado (21-5, 13 KOs, 159lbs). Golovkin’s reputation preceded him as in the first few rounds; Rosado utilized a great deal of movement and was very hesitant to throw punches. Golovkin was not flustered by this and walked Rosado down into the ropes and landed some strong blows. In the second round, a right hand from Golovkin opened up a cut over the left eye of Rosado, and it wasn’t long before the blood started pouring out of it. Golovkin just continued to apply the pressure, giving Rosado no room to breathe. Referee Steve Smoger kept a close eye on Rosado’s cut, which was getting worse and worse, and it looked like he was ready to stop the action, but Rosado’s cutman was able to contain the bleeding just a bit, but it was an impossible task. In the seventh round, Golovkin seemed to be going for the KO, and that was when Rosado’s corner stepped up onto the apron and threw in the towel. Golovkin successfully defended his title with a seventh round technical knockout at the 2:46 mark of round seven.

In an interesting matchup, Roman Martinez (26-1-1, 16 KOs, 129lbs) Juan Carlos Burgos (30-1, 20 KOs, 129 ½lbs) squared off in what looked to be an interesting clash of styles. The bout started off in an entertaining fashion as Martinez was able to get inside of Burgos’ rangy offense. Both fighters landed hard blows in the opening rounds, but Burgos’ size and movement seemed to be in control. He often ripped hard hooks to the body from a great distance, and they were taking their toll on Martinez’ body. The pace hit a plateau in the middle rounds. Burgos maintained control of the fight, but neither fighter seemed to kick it into a higher gear, and the fans became a bit frustrated. The pace continued in this fashion until the final bell. Most in attendance had Burgos winning the fight clearly. The final scores read 117-111 for Burgos, 116-112 for Martinez, and 114-114, making it a disappointing split draw. He result drew boos from the crowd.

Sean Monaghan (16-0, 10 KO’s, 177 1/2lbs) was the final non-televised bout when he faced Roger Cantrell (15-2, 8 KO’s, 184 1/2lbs). In addition to his weight advantage, Cantrell also had a sizeable height advantage over his opponent, and he stuck behind his jab to open the fight. Monaghan was able to slip underneath and get inside Cantrell’s range to land some blows of his own. The second round saw Monaghan land multiple unanswered combinations on Cantrell. In the third, Cantrell’s size and weight seemed to come into play and he went on the offensive. The middle rounds saw things level out as both fighters exchanged some heavy blows. But it was Monaghan whose blows were harder, more frequent, and more precise. Cantrell’s stamina seemed to wither and his punches lacked pop. Monaghan used that opportunity to wisely go to the body. Cantrell managed to weather the storm and survive until the final bell. The final scores read 77-75, 78-74, and 79-73 in favor of Monaghan, giving him a unanimous decision victory.

Rising star Glen Tapia (16-0, 9 KO’s, 153 1/2lbs) made short work of Ayi Bruce (14-8, 8 KO’s, 153 1/4lbs) in their bout. Tapia was just simply too big, too strong, too fast, and too smart for Bruce. He opened up the bout mixing things up from a distance with combinations to the body and head. Bruce had no answer. After a successful first round, Tapia became more aggressive. After a hard combination, Bruce was shaken and forced to cover up and weather the storm. Tapia beautifully began landing to the body, which forced Bruce to drop his guard just enough to allow Tapia to land a left followed by a right hook that sent Bruce down.

Bruce beat the count but was on very shaky legs. Tapia went in for the kill and landed about a dozen blows before the referee jumped in and saved Bruce at the 2:33 mark of the second round, giving Tapia a TKO victory.

Puerto Rican Olympian Felix Verdejo (1-0, 0 KO, 130 ½lbs) needed only two punches to knock out Tomi Archambault (1-3, 1 KO, 129 ½lbs). The opening bell rang, and Verdejo threw a left hook to Archambault’s body followed by a fast left hook that landed on his chin. That was all it took, and Verdejo was victorious with a TKO victory in only :21 of the first round.

In an exciting cruiserweight match, Isa Akberbayev (10-0, 7 KOs, 196 ½lbs) and Anthony Ferrante (12-4, 7 KOs, 196lbs) exchanged hard blows for ten rounds. Neither fighter took time getting to know eachother. Near the end of the first round, a right hand to the side of Akberbayev’s head sent him down. The knockdown did not seem to have any lasting effects and when the fighters continued, with only a few seconds to go, Akberbayev landed a right hand that sent Ferrante down. The fight cooled off a bit, but both fighters still traded hard blows. Ferrante’s size and ability to use it well seemed to tire Akberbayev. That, plus a cut that Akberbayev suffered midway through the bout seemed to trouble him throughout the second half of the fight. Entering the final round, Ferrante’s trainer shouted that he needed a knockout to secure a victory even though it seemed like he was ahead on points. Ferrante, calm as ever, shared a laugh with referee Randy Newman before entering the tenth round and landing a vicious right hand that knocked Akberbayev out cold and face first on the canvas. The bout was waved off, and Ferrante was credited with a tenth round knockout at the 1:19 point.

Mikael Zewski (17-0, 13 KOs, 149 ½lbs) scored three knockdows en route to stopping Brandon Hoskins (16-3-1, 8 KOs, 146lbs). All three knockdowns came in the fourth round and the referee called a halt to the action at 1:42 of the round, giving Zewski a TKO victory.

The judges gave Ronald Ellis (6-0, 6 KOs, 168 ½lbs) every round when he took on Steven Tyner (3-9-2, 2 KOs, 170lbs). The scores all read 40-36 in favor of Ellis for the unanimous decision victory.

If you haven’t heard of Sergey Kovalev you’re not alone. Until tonight not many have. But after an emphatic stoppage win over a top 5 opponent in Gabriel Campillo (on network TV no less!), it’s safe to say we’ll all be seeing more of Kovalev in the near future. So impressive was his destruction of Campillo that he may have actually made it hard for himself to get a big fight any time soon.

Campillo was legitimately world class and only recently lost a highly debatable decision to light heavyweight champ Tarvoris Cloud. Kovalev apparently didn’t get the memo as he steamrolled right though Campillo without a second thought. From the onset, Kovalev threw as if Campillo was merely a heavy bag that needed a good working over. Campillo seemed at a loss and was unable to keep Kovalev’s bombs from getting through his guard. About 30 seconds into round 3 Kovalev’s punches finally showed an effect on Campillo, who became trapped along the ropes and went down on all fours amid a flurry of punches. After beating the count, Campillo was again subjected to a flurry of Kovalev’s punches and wisely took a knee to compose himself. It didn’t help. When he finally did rise, he tried to back away from the onrushing Kovalev and ended up eating a hard right hand going backwards that dumped him on the seat of his pants. Referee Michael Ortega had seen enough and called of the fight at 1 minute 30 seconds of round three. Make no mistake, Kovalev (now 20-0-1 17kos)can certainly crack. It remains to be seen how good he truly is, but the way in which he dismantled Campillo makes me think it’ll be fun to find out. Campillo (21-5-1 7kos) on the other hand, simply can’t catch a break. After dropping a number of close fights and now being destroyed by Kovalev, Campillo’s risk/reward factor is off the charts. And not in a good way. It’s hard to imagine any top fighter who would want to fight him so it could be a long road back to the top for Campillo.

If you blinked, you might have missed the NBC Sports Net co-main event between middleweights Elvin Ayala and Curtis Stevens. Less than a minute into the first round, Stevens landed a picture perfect counter left hook that dumped Ayala to the canvas. Although he beat the count, Ayala was on shaky legs when he was allowed to continue and Stevens immediently took advantage; unleashing a flurry of punches that was punctuated by a left hook that laid Ayala out cold. Stevens(now 23-3 17kos) looked impressive taking care of Ayala so quickly and his stock will surely rise based solely on the severity of the knockout. Ayala (now 26-6-1 12kos) had been on the receiving end of a number of brutal knockouts and should probably being to start thinking about calling it a career.

In the opening bout of the evening, heavyweights Jarrell Miller and Joey Dawejko batteled to a 4 round draw. The fight was completely one sided with Miller throwing more and landing the harder, cleaner shots throughout. The fight was ruled a draw solely on the two points referee Johnny Callas took from Miller in round 3. Miller had pushed Dawejko to the canvas numerous time throughout the preceding 2 rounds, but it was unclear why the points were deducted as Dawejko was on his feet both times the points were taken. Whatever the reason, the 2 points were the reason all three judges scored the bout 37-37. Miller now stands at 4-0-1 (4kos). Dawejko adds his second draw and is now 7-1-2 (3kos).

A six round super featherweight bout between Joseph “Chip” Perez and Jason Sosa ended early courtesy of a Sosa right hand in round 4. The fight started poorly for Perez, who suffered a flash knockdown on a right hand to the midsection late in round 1. The knockdown happened as Perez was moving backward and though it did no damage, it did serve to animate Perez who fought back hard in rounds 2 and 3 to try and make up for the lost point. Sosa made the rounds close though by matching Perez punch for punch. Amid a heated exchange in the 4th, Sosa turned the fight with a lead right hand that caught Perez flush on the chin. Perez beat the count but was declared unfit to continue by referee Johnny Callas, who called the fight at 2 minutes 10 seconds. With the win, Sosa improved to 8-1-3 (4kos) while Perez dropped to 10-2 (3kos).

Super Middleweight Marcus Upshaw overcame some early troubles to knockdown and eventually knock out Vladine Biosse. Upshaw was being outworked over the first three rounds but started to pick up the pace in round 4. He began to land his right hand with regularity and in round 5, was able to floor Biosse with it after setting it up with a well timed jab. Biosse beat the count and was able to recover enough to make rounds 6 and 7 competitive. Upshaw was able to stop the momentum Biosse was building in round 8 when he again landed a perfect 1-2 that dropped Biosse to the canvas. Biosse rose but absorbed enough punishment over the course of 20 seconds to cause referee Tony Chiarantano to stop the fight. Upshaw runs his record to 15-8-1 (6kos) while Biosse slips to 14-2-1 (7kos). Time of the stoppage was 2:25 of round 8.

Lightweight Edwin Cotto (1-0 1Ko) made a successful pro debut by stopping Ian James (2-5-1 1Ko) within the scheduled 4 round distance. Cotto was never in any trouble and landed almost everything he threw. He dropped James in rounds 2 and 3 and ultimately stopped him in round 4; knocking him backward into referee Michael Ortega who wisely stopped the fight. Time of the stoppage was 18 seconds.

Welterweight Jimmy Williams got a little help from Curtis Stevens, whose 1st round KO of Elvin Ayala allowed his pro debut to be broadcast to millions on network TV. Williams didn’t shrink from the moment and batter his opponent, Noel Garcia, before stopping him impressively. Williams scored a knockdown in round 3 via a left hook, right hand, left hook combo. Garcia beat the count and survived the round, but probably wishes he hadn’t. In round 4 Williams landed a crushing right uppercut, left hook combo that knocked Garcia cold. It was about as good a way to make a pro debut as one could imagine. Williams is now 1-0 1Ko while Garcia drops to 2-16-2 1Ko. Time of the stoppage was 39 seconds of round 4.

First, Lance Armstrong. Now, Manti Te’o.

The hoax is in, or at least it has become America’s favorite pastime.

How it applies to boxing is anybody’s guess. You would think it would be there often and in all the usual ways. But it isn’t.

It was astonishing to look at Yahoo’s list of history’s top 10 hoaxes and not see a single entry for boxing. For a second, I thought somebody from the World Boxing Council must have put that ranking together. But, no, not a single mention, not one phantom punch or even David Haye’s toe.

Maybe, boxing is beyond repair, the original hoax. Certainly, that’s how most of America’s sports editors treat it. They ignore it, despite an emerging Latin demographic that likes it and would read about it. Instead, those newspaper editors let more readers flee while providing a running account of Armstrong’s every word in Oprah’s confessional. Then, there’s Te’o with his bizarre tale about a fictional girlfriend whom he met or didn’t meet before she died. Please, pass me a PED.

It’s become a sad game of liar’s poker with lots of players and no winners. The more it unfolds, the more I think about Bob Arum, an outspoken man always ahead of his time and probably very happy to be there in these tawdry times. He summed it up years ago:

“Yesterday I was lying. Today, I’m telling you the truth.”

Arum said it in 1981. He has had the comment thrown back in his face ever since. Yet, those old words have never been more current. I keep waiting for Armstrong to tell Oprah the same thing. I expect Te’o’s prepared statement to include them in a footnote, if not the headline.

For athletes in every sport, the days of Armstrong and Te’o will further erode trust. In boxing, there’s never been much of that anyway. Still, there’s been increasing mistrust about illegal drugs. At ringside and in back rooms, the talk spares no one. The assumption is that everybody is using. The accusatory finger has been pointed at Juan Manuel Marquez and Manny Pacquiao. But they aren’t alone. PEDS are like gloves. If you wear them, you’re probably using them.

It’s not fair. But fair is a little bit like the truth these days. It’s gone like yesterday.

Notes, Anecdotes

The first big card of 2013 Saturday night at New York’s Madison Square Garden looms as a potential step toward stardom for featherweight Mikey Garcia and further introduction of Kazakstani middleweight Gennady Golovkin to the U.S. market. Garcia faces a giant killer in Orlando Salido, who twice dimmed Juan Manuel Lopez’ star. Golovkin is in against a tough and determined Gabriel Rosado. A couple of picks: Garcia by unanimous decision; Golovkin by TKO.

Floyd Mayweather Jr. seems more like a South Beach kind of guy. A court side seat for LeBron James and the Miami Heat is is his style. But he showed up Monday in downtown Phoenix at US Airways Center for Kevin Durant and the Oklahoma City Thunder’s blowout of the Suns. There was no news as to why he was in Phoenix, where he trained about a decade ago at Central Boxing, a downtown gym and onetime training camp for Mike Tyson. Mayweather’ s first fight since his release from jail in August has yet to be announced. It looks as if he’ll fight Robert Guerrero on May 4. Phoenx is home to Athletes Performance, which is known for its work in helping pros in every sport improve their strength and conditioning.

The June day Manny Pacquiao lost to Timothy Bradley began with a media breakfast in the airy, open interior of Wolfgang Puck Bar and Grill at MGM Grand, where the company generally outpaces the fare and certainly did that morning. Most of the writers you know were there, along with Harold Lederman and other HBO employees. All were gathered to meet a touted middleweight from Kazakhstan scheduled to fight a Russian, Dmitry Pirog, returning from a banishment he gained in 2010 by unmanning Danny “Golden Child” Jacobs.

Gennady Golovkin’s English that morning was limited mainly to “nice” and “happy” and a disarming smile he directed at his trainer, Abel Sanchez, who said several times his charge brought historic gifts of power and class. And experienced, serious writers, elders of the craft, did not joke about Golovkin’s bemusing interview either, serious as they were about what sources said about him.

Saturday Golovkin will make his second appearance on HBO, and his fifth defense of the WBA’s middleweight belt, against Philadelphia junior middleweight Gabriel Rosado, on a card they share with Mikey Garcia and Orlando Salido who will make a battle for the WBO featherweight title that makes even xerostomic curmudgeons salivate. Of the four fighters, Golovkin must win in a surprisingly spectacular way, which will be tricky because expectations of him are quite high. There’ll be no fooling aficionados this time, in other words, no trotting-out a short-notice Pole with an unpronounceable first name like Grzegorz Proksa then feigning shock or delight when Golovkin brings ruin to a very difficult opponent you’d never heard of.

Aficionados have heard of Gabriel Rosado, have seen him fight, and know he was knocked sideways by Alfredo Angulo 3 1/2 years ago at 154 pounds. Rosado benefits from geography, excellent promotion and doing the right thing, challenging for a middleweight title at 160 pounds, but none of those convinces anyone worth convincing he is more than a showcase opponent for Golovkin.

Golovkin is apparently boxing’s new most-avoided fighter, which is another way of saying his talent in the ring is disproportionate to his talent in the box office. Other fighters who wore this moniker – Antonio Margarito and Paul Williams – proved much less fearsome once they found a way to sell tickets, or in Williams’ case, HBO purses. Golovkin is rather friendly if not yet eloquent, but unlike Latino fighters about which the same can be said, Golovkin suffers a want of Kazakhstani journalists and ticket-buying enclaves; he may soon win fans with merit, but he is unlikely to do so with ethnic interest, or else his HBO debut in September would have been in New York, NY – like Saturday’s card – not Verona, NY.

Golovkin has HBO’s interest, though, and that is often more lucrative than interesting boxing fans. Golovkin’s debut on the network featured at times embarrassingly effusive praise from the usual suspects, abetted by fans’ general ignorance of who Proksa was. There will be no like abetment with Rosado, who has fought on NBC Sports Network, and whose limitations are well catalogued. That is why Golovkin must do better than look good, win an eventual stoppage or hope HBO’s promotional machinery can overwhelm viewers; Golovkin must do something that startles a universal consensus into declaring whoever wins Martinez-Chavez II must face him next.

Mikey Garcia will be under less performance pressure Saturday, if by performance pressure one means a need to be entertaining, not merely victorious. Garcia can afford to follow an adage-cum-cliché that goes “Win tonight, look good next time” because there is no known way to beat Orlando Salido without getting hit by him. Garcia, invincible looking till his last performance, has defense that is not impregnable and speed that is not invisible and can be both hit and defended. But that’s about the most that can be done with him, and one is made wretched by its doing. Salido can be hit, he is especially vulnerable to left hooks as he throws them, but he also tosses a blindman’s overhand right developed, in his career’s 53 prizefights, to punish the whimsy of fellow Latinos ether lazy to bring their jabs home or premature to cock their hooks.

The promotional idea Saturday is to test Garcia and get him a first world title. Garcia is ready; he may even have been ready more than two years ago when he undid Cornelius Lock at Laredo Energy Arena in an IBF featherweight eliminator. He will be tested in a new and thorough way by Salido, unless Salido’s two fights with Juan Manuel Lopez, and rigorous schedule, have aged him more than expected, which is possible. Promoter Top Rank would not have made this match with Salido – one of its signature trial horses – if it did not think Garcia was ready, but how much of that readiness is attributable to Garcia’s prowess and how much to Salido’s reduction remains to be seen.

Salido knows his role, or at least fights like a man who suspects his role and resents it. Every gainfully employed trial horse believes he can win; Salido is an uncommon case of one who does win, or at least scares the hell out of what thoroughbreds he races. Salido does a lot of things wrong, like touch his gloves before attacks, but Garcia will find striking Salido is the easiest part of fighting him. What happens when Salido soldiers through those strikes to blast Garcia with shots of his own will read for us Garcia’s fortune.

Saturday Golovkin will probably make the more spectacular fight, he has the opponent for it, but if Garcia is able to stop Salido, he will have redoubled aficionados’ belief in his potential in a way Golovkin’s opponent will almost certainly forbid the Kazakhstani from doing.

Bart Barry can be reached at bart.barrys.email (at) gmail.com

The first installment of Golden Boy’s Boxing Series at the BB&T Center in Sunrise FL showcased Johan “El Terrible” Perez 16- 1-1, 12 KOs squeaking by with a majority decision win over former world champion Stevie “2Pounds” Forbes 35-12, 11 KOs in a Jr. Welterweight matchup. The Venezuelan Perez had problems with Forbes, letting the smaller faster fighter inside with hopes he can win the infighting with his powerful punches. The momentum slightly shifted throughout the fight with many close rounds. Forbes boxed great, had a great sixth round and fought hard until the final bell, but it was the bigger Perez who closely won the final four rounds including a decisive tenth round. The cards read 97-93, 96-94 and 95-95.

Cuban Olympian Yudel Jhonson 13-1 (8KO) won a hard earned unanimous decision victory over late replacement journeyman Dhason “Fly Boy” Johnson 13-10-3, (4KO). Fly Boy’s courageous attack throughout the bout was trumped by Jhonson’s excellent experience and counter punching from his southpaw stance.

Middleweight Terrell Gausha 2-0, 2 KOs, a 2012 US Olympian, make quick work of Kenneth Taylor Schmitz (2-6,1 KO) with a TKO in the first round. The Olympian overwhelmed Schmitz with skill and punches from the opening bell and right up to the 1:42 mark where Sam Burgos stepped in the wisely save the Saint Joseph, Missouri product Schmitz.

Rising light heavyweight prospect Thomas “Top Dog” Williams, Jr improved to 12-0, 9 KO’s with a TKO win over Jason Smith 8-2, 6 KO’s. Williams, a native of Fort Washington, MD cut him early in the fight dropped Smith twice and. The southpaw Williams was fluid and accurate with his punches and did a great job breaking body down of the game and tough, but underskilled Smith from Logan WV. Referee Frank Gentile stepped in to stop the fight at 1:56 of the third round.

Tracy Rollins, fighting out of Hollywood FL 4-0 (2KO) came out guns a blazing on the way to a quick first round stoppage over Jose Angel Sanchez, who was making his pro debut. Rollins who got wild at times with punches knocked Sanchez down three times in the first round. The stoppage came at 2:29 of round one.

Golden Boy has signed with the BB&T Center in Sunrise Florida for the Golden Boy Boxing Series will hold future live boxing events on June 1, 2013, Oct. 12, 2013 and Jan. 14, 2014.

Adrien Broner calls himself The Problem. He had one Thursday. He couldn’t remember his opponent’s name. Or, at least, he chose not to, perhaps because confidence has never been a Broner problem.

“Gavin, Davin,’’ said Broner, who during an international conference call also called his newest challenger Ted. “I really don’t know his name.’’

Might not have to either.

For the record, Broner faces a Welshman named Gavin Rees on Feb 16 in an HBO-televised bout from Atlantic City, N.J. In a fight for Broner’s 135-pound title, Rees might prove to be just another marker on what many believe is a fast track to stardom for the fast-talking lightweight from Cincinnati.

Broner has no doubts about that. No surprise there. Call Broner whatever you like. If it’s cocky, you’ll never be wrong. During Thursday’s call, there was a question from the UK about whether that confidence was arrogance.

“No, it’s not,’’ Broner (25-0, 21 KOs) said. “It’s just the truth. I want to be known as the best guy who has ever laced up a pair of boxing gloves.

“That’s my goal.’’

Broner said it as though that goal is just matter of time. Gavin, Davin, Ted, Manny, Moe & Jack are just guys in the way of what the 23-year-old foresees. With his mix of speed, power and elusiveness, he has been called the next Floyd Mayweather Jr. He and Mayweather are friendly. He’s been seen hanging with Mayweather in Las Vegas. There’s already talk about Broner fighting on the undercard of a Mayweather return projected for May 4, possibly against Robert Guerrero.

“Anything is possible,’’ said Broner, who hold the World Boxing Council’s version of the lightweight championship. “I don’t get hit that much. My fights don’t last that long.’’

Yeah, he said, there’s a “great possibility” he will fight on a card featuring Mayweather’s first bout since his release from jail.

The assumption is that Rees won’t leave Broner with a painful reminder of who he is. Rees, whose brief reign as a junior-welterweight titlist ended in 2008 with a loss to Andreas Kotelnik, promised an upset. Who in a conference call doesn’t? But Rees (37-1-1, 18 KOs) did so with a flourish

“After I knock him out, I’ll brush his hair for him,’’ Rees said in a mocking reference to the hair brush that has become a theatrical prop for Broner, who climbs into the ring as though it were a stage.

Much of what Broner does is playful. He enjoys the spotlight. He reminds reporters that they have his phone number. He’s having fun, yet there’s an understanding that he’s just one big punch away from being turned into a fool. Not knowing your opponent, he concedes, might not be wise.

“The fact that I don’t know him makes even more dangerous,’’ he said.

Nevertheless, Broner has yet to see danger he can’t conquer and won’t court.

“I don’t need to get acquainted with anything he brings,” Broner said of Gavin or Davin. “Whatever he brings I’m going to be ready for. Like I said before, I don’t watch tape on fighters. I don’t study their best moves. I don’t study their best punch. At the end of the day, if you’ve got your best move or your best punch, all of it means nothing if you can’t land a shot.’’

AZ NOTES

Phoenix super-bantamweight Emilio Colon-Garcia is scheduled to begin the New Year with his first bout since a victory last May on Jan. 18 on a Michelle Rosado-promoted card at the Arizona Event Center in Mesa. The card represents a return of boxing to the Phoenix suburb, once home for late junior-welterweight Scott Walker, best known for an upset that ended Alexis Arguello’s comeback. The eight-fight card is scheduled to begin at 7:30 p.m.

“The passion caused by the great and sublime in nature, when those causes operate most powerfully, is Astonishment; and astonishment is that state of the soul, in which all its motions are suspended, with some degree of horror.” – Edmund Burke, “A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful, Part Two,” 1757

It is the horror that concerns me. Horror, after all, is what the 18th-century Irishman uniquely identified – an ingredient of astonishment that might otherwise escape us. Horror is what I unknowingly wished to get at the morning after Argentine Sergio Martinez nearly succumbed to his 12th-round sacking by Mexican Julio Cesar Chavez Jr., Sept. 15 at University of Nevada, Las Vegas’ Thomas & Mack Center: “a burst of something so chemically pure the body hates it, an intensity unendurable for more than a few seconds.”

That was the sensation I experienced in the final 90 seconds, or at least the moment of those seconds that started when Martinez, the world’s middleweight champion, collapsed between the ropes, straightened himself, then got pounded rightwards to the mat. There was a sensation of horror, a sensation that something torturous was afoot, and that its consequences would resonate. Without a rooting interest per se (it was my seventh Chavez fight, having first interviewed him in the concourse of America West Arena seven years before; it was my first Martinez fight, having first enjoyed a conversation with him in July, one that treated, in part, Martinez’s delight with John Kennedy Toole’s novel “A Confederacy of Dunces” and its relish of absurdity), I was decidedly more horrified by Chavez’s felling Martinez midway through their final round than any of the 300 flush blows with which Martinez’s black leather striped Chavez’s face and body.

Chavez was not the match’s thinker, not by any stretch, and perhaps that’s why. Throughout, Chavez concerned himself only with striking or blocking while trusting pedigree to guide him through a geometry of the ring others need years to master but Chavez absorbed as a boy spying on his dominant father; Chavez was not setting traps, disproving theories or making inquiries of any Martinez attribute save weakness. Martinez, meanwhile, analyzed every set of Chavez stimuli at every moment, checking it against its immediate predecessor and its forming template, a means of combat more enervating for a person of Chavez’s temperament than even the Argentine’s relentlessly pumping legs and bobbing, uncovered chin would be for someone of Chavez’s flaccid conditioning.

There were several things that happened in round 10, the gravity of whose consequences went at first unnoticed: An accidental banging of heads to which Chavez reacted theatrically and Martinez more subtlety, and when Chavez pushed the back of Martinez’s neck till he dropped him on all fours. I recorded both in my notes but didn’t assign either sufficient import. The headbutt opened a gash inside Martinez’s scalp line, and if it did that, it dazed him, too, setting his magnificent brain misfiring. But the way Martinez had to lift himself from the mat was more significant still: It revealed his fatigue.

There is something naturally stressful about being chased by a larger man, especially one intellectually incapable of dissuasion or discouragement, but each movement Martinez’s legs made till that instant they’d made through training camp, and their fatigue was a slow-mounting thing. Rising from his knees, though, put Martinez’s legs in a unique enough position to shock him with how much strength had fled, and his jaw dropped in a large O that remained through the explosive finish.

“But pain is always inflicted by a power in some way superior, because we never submit to pain willingly. So that strength, violence, pain, and terror, are ideas that rush in upon the mind together.”

Here again Burke instructs us. However devastating Martinez’s blows to Chavez’s head were, no matter their longterm consequences, Chavez’s punches were more dramatic to behold, because they more evidently pained the smaller man, causing a submission Martinez did not expect, did not in any conscious way allow for – more macho than his rivals know – but, in empathy, must have imagined. There was an imposition of will in the final round, when Chavez succeeded, mostly, in brutalizing a man 15 or so pounds smaller, and it followed the moment Martinez came off his stool in misplaced triumph, gloves raised as if the ordeal were over, and Chavez lumbered off his stool like a man not even keeping a tally of lashes, rounds or punches – a tormentor in his own timezone, one devoid of urgency, a man who a round earlier had to silence his ferocious father’s barking from behind by saying over his left shoulder, “ya, ya, ya (enough, enough, enough).” For paternal prodding and its impatience with spectacle, actually, were all that agitated Chavez the whole evening.

“Beauty in distress is much the most affecting beauty.”

In Part Three of his classical treatment of aesthetics, Burke explored the linguistic ploy every culture uses of making the beautiful diminutive and the ugly large. Chavez, in the moment of the 12th round he spun Martinez for a second time to his knees and elbows on the mat, remains ogre-like in my mind, careless, insatiable, enormous, ugly. Martinez, I see, reduced to tininess, preciousness – enfeebled and distressed. He would swell to normal size a half minute later, with the paddled apron’s signal of 10 seconds, but those moments of Martinez’s diminishment and fragility hold within them, for me, the door to another chamber of prizefighting’s palatial appeal.

Bart Barry can be reached at bart.barrys.email (at) gmail.com

A very controversial decision capped an exciting 12-round elimination bout for the IBF’s #2 position at super featherweight between Miami-based Cuban Rances “Kid Blast” Barthelemy (18-0, 11 KOs) and previously undefeated Arash Usmanee (20-1, 10 KOs) season debut of ESPN Friday Night Fights, live from Stage 305 in the Magic City Casino in Miami, Florida.

Afghani-Canadian Usmanee closed the show with an amazing eleventh and twelfth round where he stalked, punched and attacked the Cuban Barthelemy relentlessly applying pressure until the final bell. The fight was competitive but I and many ringside reporters had the fight unanimously in favor of Usmanee. I spoke to Teddy Atlas after the fight and he was very upset with the decision and had the fight 117-111 for Usmanee. Barthelmy had a good first few rounds but started squaring up and Usmanee used that to his advantage and closed the gap and scored with great inside punching. As the cards were read the crowd, who was Barthelemy’s home crowd were also shocked by the decision. I had the fight 115-113 to Usmanee, all three judges scored for the Cuban 115-113, 116-112…. in the words of Teddy Atlas… the system is corrupt…

Puerto Rican slugger Jonathan “Mantequilla” Gonzalez 16-0(13KO) won a ten round decision over Derek “Pooh” Ennis. Gonzalez fought great on the outside throughout the fight with great accurate punches at times where he seemed to hit Ennis at will. Gonzalez, the Former Puerto Rican Olympian, is trained by former world champion John David Jackson, kept his composure throughout the fight and kept busy. Philadelphia’s Ennis, who dropped to 23-4(13KO) was able to land a couple big shots per round and found success while infighting, which Gonzalez avoided at good measure. The cards read 95-95, 98-92, 97-93.

Bayamón, Puerto Rico’s Roberto J. Acevedo (7-0, 5 KOs) destroyed Francisco Rios Gil (17-18) 12 KOs of Sonora, Mexico. An obvious physical mismatched produced an obvious underskilled attempt from the Mexican to hang with the bigger and stronger Acevedo.

Miami based Cuban Hairon Socarras 6-0-1(5KO) knocked out Josh Bowels 6-1(1KO) in the third round of their featherweight matchup. Socarras who is just 19, boxed nicely keeping Bowels at the end of his punches landing straight right hands and left hooks on the shorter Harrisburg, PA fighter, Bowel. The end came with a fascinating two punch combination, a left hook and a thunderous overhand right that deposited Bowels to the canvas. Bowels got to his feet but, however unable to continue.

Skilled rising prospect Light Heavyweight Radivoje Kalajdzic 9-0(6KO) won a hard fought unanimous decision over Grover “The Cobra” Young 7-8(4KO). Kalajdic was blistering fast and showed excellent ring generalship commanding the bout from the opening bell. The Bosnian born Kalajdic overwhelmed Young with punches in the third round dropping him twice, once right at the bell. Where the southpaw Young finished strong after the knockdowns, it was far too little too late.

The opening bout of the evening showcased Jeremy Bryan 16-2(7KO) from Patterson New Jersey with a great upset unanimous decision with over Light Welterweight Belarusian Yuri Ramanau 22-3(14KO). Early on Ramanau applied constant pressure tracking Bryan down and keeping his range and touching his counterpart. But it was the former two time amateur national champion Bryan who had a great fight past round 3 doing some nice work fighting from the outside and picking Ramanau off with sharp punches and great be first boxing. A cut over Bryans left eye in round two did not deter the determined New Jersey native, who should be proud of his performance.

Entertaining Cruiserweight Keith “Machine Gun” Tapia 6-0(5KO) destroyed Rafael Valenzuela and put on a great show while doing so….. with his boxing and with his ring antics.. which were humble and fun… I hope this kid goes on to do great things, he has the personality. I spoke with him after the fight and he was determined to take his career to the top. I am a fan.

An encore of a year loaded with explosive signs of renewal might be a tall order, but chances of one in 2013 are there on the calendar’s opening page with the New Year’s first marquee card featuring Gennady Golovkin in a Home Box Office bout against tough Gabriel Rosado on Jan. 19 at New York’s Madison Square Garden.

Last year will be remembered for the Juan Manuel Marquez punch that knocked out Manny Pacquiao in early December. There’s a lot of talk about Marquez-Pacquiao V. No surprise there. Who wouldn’t want to see another one? But it’s a fight that figures to stand alone. It’s already a classic, probably because no encore is possible. That right hand from Marquez might represent goodbye to a rich era memorable more for what happened than what didn’t in all the futile speculation about Pacquiao-Floyd Mayweather Jr. Time to move on, or at least take a closer look at those who might carry the business into the next era.

Golovkin has the look of somebody who can.

Golovkin’s 2012 was a season of introducing himself to the U.S. market after years of learning and refining his craft in Europe. In Germany, the Kazakhstani middleweight was a name. In 2012, he became a marketable face. In 2013, the guess is that he will take another step in a process. If last year was an introduction, the New Year promises to be one in which he becomes the fighter everybody avoids. By everybody, we mean Sergio Martinez, Andre Ward and anybody else who would have much to lose against Golovkin. On the risk-and-reward scale, Golovkin is still too much of a gamble. But that scale can change with fights and media.

Golovkin isn’t wasting any time. His potential signature on 2013 begins in the New Year’s first month and on the network that looks for stars and creates them. If Golovkin remains unbeaten and HBO’s interest stays in place, it won’t be long before the reward outweighs the risk enough to attract Ward or Martinez into one of the biggest fights since, say, Marquez-Pacquiao IV.

For Golovkin, the immediate task is Rosado, who also has much to gain on Jan. 19. The guess here is that Rosado will challenge Golovkin for a few rounds. But Golovkin’s overall skill set will prove to be too much for Rosado, who has campaigned mostly at 154 pounds. Golovkin was prepared to fight at a catch weight, 158. Rosado said no. The contract was subsequently amended. They’ll fight at the traditional 160. I’m not sure two pounds make much difference, but they were worth their weight in terms of publicity and what they said about both fighters.

Golovkin has always said he’s willing to fight at almost any weight. Two pounds were a concession to Rosado and a confirmation of Golovkin’s willingness to move up and down scale. Rosado’s demand for 160 indicates an old-school determination to do things without gamesmanship as tired as it is annoying.

“I don’t want any excuses,’’ Rosado said Wednesday in a news release.

That’s as good a resolution as any for a new generation that in a New Year has a chance to pick up where last year ended.

ANECDOTES FROM OUTSIDE THE ROPES
· In a sure sign that Jose Canseco has fallen off the financial cliff and can’t get up, the former baseball slugger and steroid accuser/user says he wants to fight Shaquille O’Neal in an MMA bout sometime in 2013.

· By most accounts, the Latin vote was a key to President Barack Obama’s re-election in November. Can’t help but think that the emerging American demographic was also a reason for last year’s rebound in the boxing business, which included a return to NBC and CBS.

· Ray Lewis is retiring after 17 years as a Baltimore Ravens linebacker. Lewis was often mentioned as an example of what’s happened to the heavyweight division. To wit: America’s best heavyweights are all playing in the NFL these days. Lewis might have been a great American heavyweight. But we’re hoping that means he doesn’t announce a comeback in a few months.

AZ NOTES
Michelle Rosado of Phoenix returns to the promotional ring on Friday, Jan. 18 at the Arizona Event Center in Mesa with a card scheduled to include popular super-bantamweight Emilio Colon-Garcia. First bell is scheduled for 7:30 p.m.

Editor’s note: For part 1, please click here.

***

The moment Mexican Juan Manuel Marquez took Filipino Manny Pacquiao’s consciousness with a right cross on Dec. 8, chemistry was everywhere, and that won’t be forgotten. Arguments that it wasn’t, explanations that rely on genetics or diets or work ethics, begin their analyses, necessarily, in recent training camps – like a biography whose first page treats this morning’s breakfast.

To see little Juan Manuel Marquez, aged 36, running in the green mountains of Mexico, jerking volcanic rocks overhead and imbibing his own amber urine before a “welterweight” match with Floyd Mayweather in 2009 allowed no doubt of Marquez’s dedication, however much his physique resembled cinnamon candlewax more than sandstone. Whence Marquez’s enhanced build, at age 39, then: new genes? a switch from beef to chickpeas? better form on the military press? The change is a chemical one. That is not the indictment of Marquez’s character it may appear; many disinterested observers believe whatever science Marquez employed in his fourth fight with Pacquiao was science employed against Marquez in at least their last three. If a natural athlete fought a chemically enhanced one on even terms then switched to a regimen of chemicals, in other words, KO-6 is exactly the result oddsmakers might predict.

A week later, Donaire unveiled in Houston, conversely, the sort of long body athletes wore a generation ago. Donaire was finely conditioned, fit, and his natural reflexes were sensational, but he did not have what bodybuilders call vascularity – crinkled veins protruding in many places but most tellingly along the center of the biceps.

How much sports fans care about the PED debate, though, is best measured by an inverse of their enthusiasm for the NFL, in which 300-pound players have improved their presence 53,200-percent since 1970.

*

The moment Mexican Juan Manuel Marquez took Filipino Manny Pacquiao’s consciousness with a right cross on Dec. 8, Marquez made a generation of Mexican fans hopeful again, after it’d watched its best figures undone by Pacquiao, an offensive force whose historic ferocity was belied by its happy manifestation – smiles en route to the ring, jaunty bounces during attack, gloves thrust encouragingly above the head whenever any opponent scored him.

Marquez did to Pacquiao what no one else was able: Make him ignore trainer Freddie Roach. Once Marquez felled him with that sweeping right hand in round 3, he had Pacquiao in a place of carelessness, mindlessness even, where, so long as Marquez could withstand what rage he ignited, Pacquiao was bound to make mistakes both men knew he made bounding in, mistakes Roach was powerless to forbid. Even after Pacquiao’s best round, the fifth, Roach portentously, uncharacteristically, shouted over the chaotic din of his charge’s corner: “Manny, move your head!” If instead Roach had shouted on his way up the stairs in the last second of the sixth “Juan, my guy doesn’t move his head,” it could have been no clearer to Marquez, a predator already crooking his right elbow at just the angle to stick a middle knuckle square on Pacquiao’s face.

Donaire and Arce, six days later, smiled and laughed and hugged one another through their weighin. Ethnic pedigrees assured the folks gathered before a black-canvas backdrop at PlazAmericas Mall Saturday’s fight would be violent, but there was so little contempt to display, or hide, it was one more reminder how different was the rivalry at green-and-gold MGM Grand the week before.

*

The moment Mexican Juan Manuel Marquez took Filipino Manny Pacquiao’s consciousness with a right cross on Dec. 8 was a reminder, too, that Marquez traveled to the Philippines after their second fight to interrupt those islands’ celebration of their hero’s triumph and plead with Pacquiao for a rubber match. When that match did not come, Marquez made 2009’s fight of the year against Juan Diaz in Houston’s Toyota Center.

That was a reminder of the unfriendly terrain Marquez trod to become his country’s most celebrated prizefighter, what obscurity the generation’s greatest counterpuncher endured while his fellow countrymen, Erik Morales and Marco Antonio Barrera, made their country’s most famous trilogy. The way Marquez solved Pacquiao all by himself from the seat of his white and red-striped trunks in 2004, frantically querying a database of openings and counters for some arrangement resembling the Filipino’s unorthodox attack enough to let the experimentation begin, experimentation that would evolve from hooking at the shoulder to ducking the left cross to skipping out of range to countering, finally – experimentation Marquez performed alone because, while Nacho Beristain could tell him what punch to throw and why, he could not tell Marquez when to throw it because at the championship level boxing moves too fast, with consequences too wicked, to trust any perception but one’s own.

After he retired Arce a week after Marquez left aficionados wondering if Pacquiao would fight another day, Donaire did what he could to remind folks he’d brought Filipinos solace. He had, after all, stretched a Mexican. But that Mexican was not Marquez, and he was not Pacquiao.

*

The moment Mexican Juan Manuel Marquez took Filipino Manny Pacquiao’s consciousness with a right cross on Dec. 8, Marquez brought vindication to himself, of course, but also to Mexican and Mexican-American fathers in the U.S. who told their kids, no matter the success of Pacquiao’s southpaw attack or the celebrity of Mayweather’s low lead hand, Marquez’s was the form they must emulate. He was not fast as those other guys, just as they weren’t, but he was perfect. His quiet mastery of a grim craft held within it, too, insights about their immigrant culture, just as what spite he showed men he combated imparted forgotten details about the conquest of New Spain.

This will be the year Nonito Donaire is remembered for escaping the long shadow of Manny Pacquiao, both for what Donaire did, and for the way Marquez shortened that shadow in Las Vegas.

For hosting our sport’s best fight and best fighter, in two different cities, the week that began Dec. 8 was 2012’s most excellent.

Bart Barry can be reached at bart.barrys.email (at) gmail.com

The moment Mexican Juan Manuel Marquez took Filipino Manny Pacquiao’s consciousness with a right cross on Dec. 8 brought a series of instants affecting as can be experienced in professional sport. One of those instants brought a deep, royal blue sense of Marquez’s vindication, reminiscent in its way of Antonio Margarito’s victory over Miguel Cotto at MGM Grand in 2008. Reminiscent, conjecture says, in a few ways.

There was a difference between the two moments, though, a difference uncaptured by television, that boasting, refracting medium that lies to congregants flatteringly enough they later find no irony in remanding events’ eyewitnesses to tapes of what television told them to see. Television, that extraordinary phenomenon, continues to affect boxing more than it covers it.

The difference between Marquez and Margarito lay in their reactions. Margarito, who had longer to process Cotto’s demise, was euphoric, dropping to his knees, blessing himself, spinning joyfully in his cornermen’s arms. Marquez was not surprised as anyone else. He’d the benefit of feeling the punch on his right knuckle, of course, but it was not entirely that. He was not containing a euphoria as he paced with his black gloves on the red waistband of his trunks, inching nearer Pacquiao to admire what he’d done, or when he ran across the ring – to a neutral corner, mind you – and mounted a turnbuckle to savor his vindication; he was acting out a conqueror’s script.

What happened on television was a single camera that showed Pacquiao regaining consciousness sooner than what happened at ringside, where split screens above the ring showed Marquez fixated on a proper celebration, ensuring his white Rexona sponsor’s cap was straightened, while Pacquiao’s wife sobbed, silently screamed and tried to swim to her facedown husband, promoter Bob Arum consoling her while looking inconsolable. It happened much slower at ringside; there was no one shouting about keystones or anticipating fifth fights: there was confusion marinated in fright, tempered by a need to record what transpired.

But memory is a funny thing, and what I remember best from those moments is Marquez’s unflinching seizure of them, while the Filipino journalist on my right worried Pacquiao might never stir. It was a confirmation of this: Were Marquez offered a choice in the last moment of the sixth round, told if he threw that right hand it might kill Pacquiao but if he didn’t he might lose another close decision, Marquez would throw the punch. Whatever other prizefighters tell you about themselves during promotions, know this: A willingness to kill in the ring makes Marquez unique.

Six days later in Houston, the mood was much lighter. It was the weighin for an inconsequential coronation: a crowning of Filipino Nonito Donaire as 2012’s fighter of the year, and a crowning payday for Mexican Jorge Arce. Donaire was a safer athlete to cover than Marquez.

Arce did some chemical experimentation in camp to make his upper body more muscular, in the laboratory of Marquez’s own scientist, but at worse, one suspected, the enhanced physique might extend Arce’s consciousness a round. The left hook Donaire doused Arce’s spirit with at Toyota Center was comparatively merciful. Arce went down, but there was little fright, as one sensed Donaire would drop on his knees and administer CPR if his friend were in genuine peril.

Somehow, strangely, illogically, knowing a man rendered another unconscious in an act of temporarily suspended affection, as Donaire did Arce, made it feel safer than what congealed indifference Marquez showed Pacquiao’s plight in Las Vegas.

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The moment Mexican Juan Manuel Marquez took Filipino Manny Pacquiao’s consciousness with a right cross on Dec. 8 made their tetralogy a unique event in boxing history. In its asymmetry – Pacquiao dropped Marquez five times but will be remembered as the rivalry’s collapsed form on the blue mat – and its excellence, it entered our sport’s annals as something that may be approached or someday bettered but never matched: a rivalry whose first three fights were excellent enough to merit a fourth but inferior to the fourth.

What happened in the seven days that began Dec. 8th was unique and excellent, too, in this way: The fight of the year and the fighter of the year happened in a week together but 1,500 miles apart. Marquez-Pacquiao IV will be remembered as 2012’s best fight because of its superior composition of three elements, violence and craft and consequence – the winner was covered in his own blood when he made his opponent sleep with the same counter right hand he landed the round before, spinning Pacquiao sideways in the fifth, and with that right hand in round 6 Marquez brought the conclusion of an era.

Nonito Donaire will be declared 2012’s best prizefighter because of a superior composition of these three elements: Activity, craft and consequence. Donaire fought twice as often as his peers, and he fought actual opponents in actual weight classes, gaming none of them with the scale, and by subjecting himself to VADA testing he put the lie to most athletes’ claims and exerted pressure on everyone including his own team.

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The moment Mexican Juan Manuel Marquez took Filipino Manny Pacquiao’s consciousness with a right cross on Dec. 8, Marquez had been the slower man in the fourth fight as he’d been in the first and second and third. He was able to offset Pacquiao’s unique attack with “inteligencia” – a word Marquez uttered in every interview he conducted after their second fight before their third after their third and before their fourth.

Marquez and his trainer Nacho Beristain welcomed the more conventional Pacquiao they saw in fight three; so long as Pacquiao’s punches came from familiar angles, no matter their speed or forcefulness, Marquez and Beristain did not fear them for the same reason a major league hitter does not fear a 120-mph fastball twice thrown over the plate at belt level. One doesn’t get in the major leagues without being able to hit a fastball, no matter its velocity, and one doesn’t get out of a Mexico City gym without being able to sustain any punch he sees coming.

The scariest moment of Dec. 8, then, was not the Pacquiao left hand that knocked Marquez onto the knuckles of his left glove but instead the crazily executed, left-foot-off-the-mat, right-hand chop Pacquiao landed a few seconds after he put Marquez on the canvas. That was the punch that stiffened Marquez’s right leg and sent him in frantic retreat till the ropes’ touching his back made him swing at Pacquiao savagely because that is what Marquez does when cornered.

After the fight there was an odd little moment when Marquez and Beristain, no sore winners they, alternately led the MGM Grand media center in a rendition of “Happy Birthday” for Bob Arum and a heartfelt hug for the elderly promoter and rival whom Beristain flatly accused of ruining the sport while they shared a Mandalay Bay dais after Pacquiao-Marquez II in 2008.

Arum’s appearance, six days later, at a Houston mall, where he briefly posed for pictures with Donaire and Arce, was perfunctory – like everyone else’s.

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Editor’s note: Part 2 will be posted Wednesday.

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Bart Barry can be reached at bart.barrys.email (at) gmail.com

A New Year begins like the old year. Slowly. But every year between the ropes offers surprises that in 2012 created late momentum and an appetite for more in the next one.

Here are thirteen reasons to fear, love and maybe laugh at 2013:

Andre Ward. News Thursday about his plans for shoulder surgery casts an early pall on the New Year. Ward’s fight with Kelly Pavlik, postponed once and tentatively re-scheduled for Mar. 2, has been cancelled. Ward, a leading pound-for-pound contender, is the face of an emerging generation. He said he hopes to fight twice next year. The business needs to see him more than once.

The super-bantamweights. All of the leadership figures to come from an often forgotten weight class. Nonito Donaire is providing it in his willingness to undergo enhanced drug testing conducted by VADA (Voluntary Anti-Doping Association). In the wake of widespread public suspicions planted by cyclist Lance Armstrong’s elaborate scheme to cheat the testing network, it’s what athletes in every sport should do. Meanwhile, Abner Mares’ voice grows louder with pressure on his promoter, Golden Boy, to make the fight with the Top Rank-promoted Donaire.

Promotional peace. Peace on earth is a better bet, but rapper 50 Cent is in a good position to broker a cease fire in the tired feud between Top Rank and Golden Boy. Who would have ever thought that a rapper would appear to be more reasonable than Bob Arum and Richard Schaefer? But 50 Cent’s pragmatic approach and style suggest that he can get things done. It’s more than noteworthy that 50 Cent, named Curtis Jackson on his promotional license, got super-featherweight Yuriorkis Gamboa out of contractual limbo and into a fight on Dec. 8 on the Juan Manuel Marquez-Manny Pacquiao card. It was promoted by Top Rank, which had sued Gamboa in a move that could have put him on legal ice for years.

Gennady Golovkin. The most intriguing fighter of 2012 becomes the most avoided one in 2013, but the Kazakhstani’s patience and HBO’s interest in him make the middleweight a Fighter of the Year contender in 2014.

Juan Manuel Marquez. He cashes in on the momentum of his knockout of Manny Pacquiao with one, maybe two, fights and then retires.

Pacquiao. The Filipino Congressman deliberates retirement for several months and then decides to fight late in the year with a bout that also serves as a fund raiser for his next political campaign. But Marquez’ crushing right hand on Dec. 8 haunts him, leaves him tentative and robs him of the instinctive aggressiveness that made him so popular for so long. He retires.

Buboy Fernandez. After his MMA-like kick of a Getty Images photographer trying to get shots of a fallen Pacquiao on Dec. 8, the Pacquaio friend and cornerman is ordered to spend a year working for UFC Generalissimo Dana White.

Floyd Mayweather Jr. He looks impressive in beating Robert Guerrero. He then calls out Pacquiao, who does what the public began to do about a year ago. He yawns, moves on and beyond a fight that never was.

HBO’s 24/7. Mayweather hires his dad, Floyd Mayweather Sr., as his trainer and fires him during an expletive-filled flare-up during the series’ second episode.

Al Haymon. The business’ most powerful advisor doesn’t get quoted.

Miguel Cotto. He fights once more. Canelo Alvarez beats him. He retires.

Jonathon Banks. He becomes Deontay Wilder’s rival as America’s latest heavyweight hope. Pressure builds for a Banks-Wilder showdown.

Wladimir Klitchsko. The heavyweight king announces that he’ll leave the Euro zone and re-enter the U.S. market in a bout against the Banks-Wilder winner. If it’s Banks, an interesting story line develops. Banks, Klitschko’s sparring partner, was also Klitschko’s trainer after Emanuel Steward died on Oct 25.