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The Raskin Running Diary Returns! The Brooklyn Quadrupleheader (Part I)

Alexander got the W. Maybe next time it will be in a more enjoyable manner. (Tom Casino)
On Saturday night, “world championship” boxing returned to Brooklyn for the first time in 81 years. What better way to celebrate the occasion than with the running diary returning to TheSweetScience.com for the first time in 53 weeks? Much has changed since the last time I busted out this column device. Entering the previous running diary, Bernard Hopkins was light heavyweight champion of the world and had never once been bodyslammed by Chad Dawson. Showtime wasn’t yet airing quadrupleheaders with regularity or showing undercard bouts on Showtime Extreme, so running diaries were pretty much limited to pay-per-view cards. Bill Dettloff’s dog, Duva, the scene-stealing star of the Hopkins-Dawson I PPV Diary, was still alive. (Pour one out.) And boxing didn’t have a PED problem. At least as far as we knew.
This running diary will be different than past installments in that I was not part of a gathering of boxing writers, so there will be no sidebar breakdowns of our sidebar conversations. However, the Showtime Extreme portion of the broadcast began at 7 p.m. ET, which meant that I was joined for a few minutes by my daughter and son before they headed up to bed. I also had my dog, Rodney, and my brother-in-law’s dog, Gertie, to keep me company. But as far as observations for the running diary go, it’s just me and anyone who wrote something diary-worthy on Twitter.
Disclaimer: I’m one year older than Erik Morales, so no promises that I’m not completely shot as a running-diary writer. But here goes nuthin’ with the first installment of a two-part look back at Saturday night’s festivities from the Barclays Center in Brooklyn:
7:02 p.m. ET: What a joy to have Brian Kenny back in my life. I’m aware that he could theoretically be in my life regularly if I watched MLB Network, but since the 2012 baseball season never happened (I’m a Phillies fan; as far as I’m concerned this was just a really long exhibition season in preparation for 2013), the addition of Kenny to the Showtime crew as the host/director of traffic is an automatic highlight of the night. For his first order of business, BK notes that the main Showtime broadcast starts at 8 p.m., which makes me thankful I didn’t go out for the evening and trust my DVR, since my cable guide thought the show started at 9. It also means I have a shot, theoretically, at getting to bed before midnight, provided we see some knockouts.
7:03: Kenny sends it down to the Showtime Extreme team of Barry Tompkins and Steve Farhood, whose cheerful camaraderie and soothing, non-idiotic voices make watching boxing as relaxing as a bath in warm buttermilk. (Am I showing my running-diary rust with that analogy? Let’s move along.)
7:05: The lone live fight on Showtime Extreme will be the return of Danny Jacobs following his battle with cancer, and we start with a video vignette on him. Here’s a not-at-all-loaded question for everyone to discuss: Who’s gotten more press the last two weeks, Jacobs or Orlando Cruz?
7:06: When a guy is coming back from cancer, it’s wholly inappropriate to make trivial jokes in a running-diary column about his godmother borrowing her hairstyle from Carrot Top. So I won’t.
7:10: Farhood tells us that Jacobs’ opponent, Josh Luteran, goes by the nickname “The Existential Outlaw” and is also an actor in Hollywood. His IMDB page suggests he’s probably doing better as a boxer. Luteran’s nose is definitely more “boxer” than “actor”; that thing has more unwanted twists and turns than a season of The Killing.
7:15: A sizzling left-right combination from Jacobs renders Luteran non-existent(ial) at 1:13 of the first round. Suddenly, regardless of his sparsely populated IMDB page, it’s looking like Luteran’s future lies in acting. Meanwhile, nice win for Jacobs. Luteran wasn’t much, but Jacobs destroyed him following an 19-month layoff and showed, as best he could in 73 seconds, the talent that once made him one of boxing’s hottest prospects.
7:22: As I enjoy some Eddie Gomez-Saul Benitez highlights from earlier on the undercard, my wife, who is getting the kids ready for bed, reports that my son sat on the potty for five minutes, produced nothing, and promptly got off the toilet and peed on the rug in his room. I’d love to help clean up, but I have boxing to watch.
7:28: We get our first USADA mention of the night from BK, as he welcomes Al Bernstein and Austin Trout to the broadcast desk to help him stall for time and discuss the upcoming main event. Not included among the topics of discussion: how apparently it’s okay for a boxer to fight on Showtime after failing a PED test, but it’s not okay for a boxer to provide color commentary on Showtime after failing a PED test. Remember Antonio Tarver? Tonight, he’ll be watching from home while Erik Morales is permitted to try to punch a man after two positive drug tests leading up to the fight. Hmmm.
7:32: With no more undercard bouts to broadcast, Showtime Extreme signs off early. Now I have no excuse not to help put the kids to bed.
7:50: My daughter convinces me to put on the adult-size red flannel footie pajamas that my wife got me as a semi-joke gift several years ago, so this will be my attire for the remainder of the running diary. There’s something I wouldn’t be able to do on press row. Take that, all you suckers who are ringside in Brooklyn tonight.
7:59: As I settle back onto the couch for the main event, Showtime airs an ad for Jim Rome’s new show. We can only hope the show will be half as clever as the “balls” joke in the commercial. (Get it? He said the show would have balls, and then all manner of baseballs, footballs, basketballs, and soccer balls fell from the ceiling! Ingenious!)
8:02: Speaking of Showtime programming, before the fights begin we’re treated to ads for Dexter and Homeland. My quick (pretty much spoiler-free) thoughts on each show: I’m not convinced yet that Dexter has recaptured its mojo following an overdue shakeup to the Dexter-Deb dynamic at the conclusion of last season. Season Seven is certainly better thus far than Season Six was, but I have my doubts about whether it can ever become a first-rate show again. Meanwhile, I’m thoroughly enjoying the second season of Homeland, even if “realistic” is a word that’s apparently been banned from the writers’ room. Did it deserve to beat out Breaking Bad and Mad Men for the Emmy? Of course not. But it’s definitely the cream of the Sunday night drama crop this fall.
8:06: Okay, back to boxing! Kenny is sharing the desk with Bernstein, Trout, and Tompkins—turns out Barry is working the whole card because play-by-play man Mauro Ranallo is out sick. Nothing against Mauro, but I love me some Barry Tompkins and he’s always had good chemistry with Bernstein, so this is a fine development.
8:10: Bernstein asks the million-dollar question (literally) about Danny Garcia’s decision to go through with the fight. I’ve sat in slack-jawed amazement all day at the tweets and articles buying into the notion that, as of Friday night, Garcia was planning to pull out of the fight because of Morales’ failed USADA tests. I don’t believe for one second that Garcia considered cancelling the fight. He’d gone through a two-month training camp and was going to collect $1-million to fight an aging opponent he’d already beaten handily seven months earlier, and you expect me to trust some “unnamed sources” who said he was this close to pulling out? Sorry, but that’s some flimsy logic. Maybe the New York commission considered putting the kibosh on this fight. But no way did Garcia consider it.
8:16: Randall Bailey is in the ring, wearing a blue mask that makes him look like one of the Spy vs. Spy guys with shark teeth. Also in the ring: Arthur Mercante Jr. Much as I love having big-time boxing in New York, there is always that one unfortunate little string attached.
8:20: I know Philly sports fans own the reputation as the most negative fans around, but the Brooklyn crowd didn’t make it halfway through the first round of Bailey vs. Devon Alexander before the boos began! Really? They’re not allowed to feel each other out and take a tactical approach for 90 seconds?
8:24: In the second round, Bailey lands a head-clash-right-hand combination that knocks Alexander off balance, and with Alexander generally standing in range for Bailey’s punches, we have some (false) hope for drama in this bout.
8:27: Alexander lands a nice right hand of his own in the third round, and Mercante promptly steps in to make certain there’s no discernable flow to the fight and no sustained action. Moments later, Trout makes a good observation that Alexander’s wide stance makes it hard for him to turn fluidly in the ring.
8:33: Bernstein calls Bailey “the Dave Kingman of boxing,” and the 27-year-old Trout admits he doesn’t know who Dave Kingman is, which gives everyone a good chuckle. Call me crazy, but there’s some decent chemistry developing here. It’s around this point that I remember: Isn’t Joe Cortez supposed to be a part of this broadcast team? We haven’t heard from him yet, and if it turns out he’s not there and Kenny, Tompkins, Bernstein, and Trout are all going to do a good job behind their respective microphones, then who the hell am I going to mock in this running diary? Speaking of Cortez, he’s the subject of one of the “over/under” questions for the latest episode of Ring Theory: How many indecipherable words will he utter on the broadcast? I set the line at 11, Dettloff took the under. Also, Bill has under 37 rounds for the four main fights combined, and under 8,500 in paid attendance.
8:39: Another useful observation by Trout, who notes that Alexander is now keeping his left hand tight to his chin in round six after eating a couple of big right hands in round five.
8:40: Alexander accidentally hits Mercante with a left hand. I have a new favorite fighter.
8:41: Mercante takes a point from both fighters for holding in the sixth. Allow me to quote myself via Twitter: “Mercante: ‘These fighters think they’re the show! I’ll show them who’s the show!’”
8:42: Hey, Joe Cortez is here after all! He weighs in on Mercante’s dual point deductions. I think I just hit the over on 11 slurred words.
8:49: After Mercante tells Alexander to stop spinning his opponent, Trout notes, “I didn’t think that was illegal, that’s good footwork in my opinion.” I’m liking this Trout character so far.
9:00: As the boos rain down in Brooklyn and an ugly fight shows no signs of getting less ugly, we get these three enjoyable tweets in the span of a few seconds. First, from @therealFOL: “I would rather watch Joe Cortez make a sandwich.” Second, from @HansLanda0351: “I can never tell if Alexander is feinting or epileptic.” And third, from my podcast partner @WilliamDettloff: “In about six hours Bailey’s going to land the right he’s been waiting to land all night and his poor wife will be KTFO.”
9:04: There are just two minutes left in the fight. Which means Bailey, hopelessly behind on points, has two minutes to make Mike Jones feel less awful about himself. (Yes, I stole my own Twitter joke. And you know what? I might do that a few more times before this running diary is through. Deal with it.)
9:06: The fight ends, and Trout says Alexander fought a “great” fight. Bernstein objects and says it was “effective,” not “great,” and Trout more or less concedes. The crowd, meanwhile, can’t stop booing. Three more fights like that one, and we’re watching the last boxing card ever at the Barclays Center.
9:07: Nice addition to the negativity surrounding the fight from good ol’ @HansLanda0351: “The next basement dweller who claims alphabet titles are a good thing should be forced to watch this fight on a loop until they die.”
9:09: Jimmy Lennon Jr. announces the unanimous decision in Alexander’s favor, by scores of 115-111, 116-110, and 117-109. I’m now pouring myself a bowl of cereal—another reason my living room beats press row.
9:16: Jim Gray is in the dressing room conducting prefight interviews, and he asks Garcia, “When you woke up this morning, was there a question in your mind as to whether or not there would be a fight?” Garcia responds, “I mean, it was up to the New York Athletic Commission, they said it was cool, so it’s cool with me.” Anyone still trust the sources who said Garcia was planning to give up his million-dollar payday and pull out?
9:28: Peter Quillin vs. Hassan N’Dam is underway, and we’re seeing better action in the opening round than we saw at any point during Alexander-Bailey. N’Dam lands a left, and Quillin comes right back with a superior right hand to the chin. Maybe we aren’t watching the last fight card at Barclays after all.
9:30: Between rounds one and two, Mike Tyson is shown on the big screen in Brooklyn, pulling off the rarely seen facial-tattoo/white-turtleneck combination, and he gets a massive standing ovation from the crowd. It’s hard to believe Mike Tyson has survived long enough to reach this point in his life, that he’s matured gracefully into “beloved icon” status, but here he is. What a wonderful moment.
9:38: With N’Dam generally having gotten the better of the entertaining first three rounds, local favorite Quillin fights back with a left uppercut that staggers the Cameroonian at the start of round four. Quillin follows up, and a leaping left hook drops N’Dam! He seems okay as he gets up, but Quillin has two minutes left in the round to finish him.
9:39: Another hook almost floors N’Dam, then a perfect one drops him with 40 seconds left in the round. Two slips, however, help N’Dam run out the clock. Tyson is shown standing, applauding, and smiling wide at ringside.
9:47: As much as I enjoyed Trout’s analysis throughout the Alexander-Bailey fight, he’s starting to make me feel sleepy now. Can Showtime find a boxer/broadcaster whose energy level lands somewhere between the excessive exuberance of Paulie Malignaggi and the check-his-pulse monotone of Trout? Oh, right. They did. His name was Antonio Tarver.
9:48: Just as N’Dam seems to be righting the ship, Quillin decks with him another hook with about a minute to go in round six. N’Dam stumbles down again following a combination, meaning he’s now been knocked down four times in total.
9:52: N’Dam, still plenty game, lands a serious counter left hook in the seventh and gets me thinking Quillin just might regret not finishing him off in either the fourth or sixth rounds.
10:00: We’re treating to some tremendous action in the ninth, as Quillin absorbs several hard shots along the ropes and fires back.
10:10: Entering the final round, N’Dam seems to have pulled just about even. I’m pretty sure there’s no precedent for a fighter winning a decision in the other guy’s hometown despite a 4-0 deficit in knockdowns.
10:13: Quillin guarantees that N’Dam won’t be winning that decision (actually, it was already guaranteed; more on that in a moment) by flooring him for the fifth and sixth times in the contest in the final 25 seconds of round 12. It’s a delightfully dramatic finish to a fight that has fully erased the stink of the bout that preceded it.
10:17: All three judges score it 115-107 for Quillin, which seems a bit wide, but oh well, he is a New Yorker and it’s not like it was impossible to find seven rounds to give to “Kid Chocolate.” Not worth kicking up a fuss over. But it would have been if N’Dam had dominated round 12 and still lost unanimously.
10:25: BK interviews Danny Jacobs, and Jacobs commits one of my sports-interview pet peeves, declaring himself to be at “150 percent.” Then again, he’s probably at about 15,000 percent of what he was in 2011. So I’m going to let a recent cancer survivor slide on this one.
10:28: TSS editor Mike Woods tweets “[Richard] Schaefer says he is looking at January date and then feb back here, something ‘historic’. Hmmm.” Hey, Woodsy, how can you be certain he was spelling it “historic” and not “hystoric”?
And with that harmless little swipe at my dear friends at Golden Boy Promotions, I’ll wrap up Part I of the running diary. Come back tomorrow for Part II, covering the Malignaggi-Cano and Garcia-Morales fights. And don’t forget your red flannel adult footies.
Eric Raskin can be contacted at RaskinBoxing@yahoo.com. You can follow him on Twitter @EricRaskin and listen to new episodes of his podcast, Ring Theory, at http://ringtheory.podbean.com.
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Thomas Hauser’s Literary Notes: Johnny Greaves Tells a Sad Tale

Johnny Greaves was a professional loser. He had one hundred professional fights between 2007 and 2013, lost 96 of them, scored one knockout, and was stopped short of the distance twelve times. There was no subtlety in how his role was explained to him: “Look, Johnny; professional boxing works two ways. You’re either a ticket-seller and make money for the promoter, in which case you get to win fights. If you don’t sell tickets but can look after yourself a bit, you become an opponent and you fight to lose.”
By losing, he could make upwards of one thousand pounds for a night‘s work.
Greaves grew up with an alcoholic father who beat his children and wife. Johnny learned how to survive the beatings, which is what his career as a fighter would become. He was a scared, angry, often violent child who was expelled from school and found solace in alcohol and drugs.
The fighters Greaves lost to in the pros ran the gamut from inept local favorites to future champions Liam Walsh, Anthony Crolla, Lee Selby, Gavin Rees, and Jack Catterall. Alcohol and drugs remained constants in his life. He fought after drinking, smoking weed, and snorting cocaine on the night before – and sometimes on the day of – a fight. On multiple occasions, he came close to committing suicide. His goal in boxing ultimately became to have one hundred professional fights.
On rare occasions, two professional losers – “journeymen,” they’re called in The UK – are matched against each other. That was how Greaves got three of the four wins on his ledger. On September 29, 2013, he fought the one hundredth and final fight of his career against Dan Carr in London’s famed York Hall. Carr had a 2-42-2 ring record and would finish his career with three wins in ninety outings. Greaves-Carr was a fight that Johnny could win. He emerged triumphant on a four-round decision.
The Johnny Greaves Story, told by Greaves with the help of Adam Darke (Pitch Publishing) tells the whole sordid tale. Some of Greaves’s thoughts follow:
* “We all knew why we were there, and it wasn’t to win. The home fighters were the guys who had sold all the tickets and were deemed to have some talent. We were the scum. We knew our role. Give some young prospect a bit of a workout, keep out of the way of any big shots, lose on points but take home a wedge of cash, and fight again next week.”
* “If you fought too hard and won, then you wouldn’t get booked for any more shows. If you swung for the trees and got cut or knocked out, then you couldn’t fight for another 28 days. So what were you supposed to do? The answer was to LOOK like you were trying to win but be clever in the process. Slip and move, feint, throw little shots that were rangefinders, hold on, waste time. There was an art to this game, and I was quickly learning what a cynical business it was.”
* “The unknown for the journeyman was always how good your opponent might be. He could be a future world champion. Or he might be some hyped-up nightclub bouncer with a big following who was making lots of money for the promoter.”
* “No matter how well I fought, I wasn’t going to be getting any decisions. These fights weren’t scored fairly. The referees and judges understood who the paymasters were and they played the game. What was the point of having a go and being the best version of you if nobody was going to recognize or reward it?”
* “When I first stepped into the professional arena, I believed I was tough. believed that nobody could stop me. But fight by fight, those ideas were being challenged and broken down. Once you know that you can be hurt, dropped and knocked out, you’re never quite the same fighter.”
* “I had started off with a dream, an idea of what boxing was and what it would do for me. It was going to be a place where I could prove my toughness. A place that I could escape to and be someone else for a while. For a while, boxing was that place. But it wore me down to the point that I stopped caring. I’d grown sick and tired of it all. I wished that I could feel pride at what I’d achieved. But most of the time, I just felt like a loser.”
* “The fights were getting much more difficult, the damage to my body and my psyche taking longer and longer to repair after each defeat. I was putting myself in more and more danger with each passing fight. I was getting hurt more often and stopped more regularly. Even with the 28-day [suspensions], I didn’t have time to heal. I was staggering from one fight to the next and picking up more injuries along the way.”
* “I was losing my toughness and resilience. When that’s all you’ve ever had, it’s a hard thing to accept. Drink and drugs had always been present in my life. But now they became a regular part of my pre-fight preparation. It helped to shut out the fear and quieted the thoughts and worries that I shouldn’t be doing this anymore.”
* “My body was broken. My hands were constantly sore with blisters and cuts. I had early arthritis in my hip and my teeth were a mess. I looked an absolute state and inside I felt worse. But I couldn’t stop fighting yet. Not before the 100.”
* “I had abused myself time after time and stood in front of better men, taking a beating when I could have been sensible and covered up. At the start, I was rarely dropped or stopped. Now it was becoming a regular part of the game. Most of the guys I was facing were a lot better than me. This was mainly about survival.”
* “Was my brain f***ed from taking too many punches? I knew it was, to be honest. I could feel my speech changing and memory going. I was mentally unwell and shouldn’t have been fighting but the promoters didn’t care. Johnny Greaves was still a good booking. Maybe an even better one now that he might get knocked out.”
* “Nobody gave a f*** about me and whether I lived or died. I didn’t care about that much either. But the thought of being humiliated, knocked out in front of all those people; that was worse than the thought of dying. The idea of being exposed for what I was – a nobody.”
* “I was a miserable bastard in real life. A depressive downbeat mouthy little f***er. Everything I’ve done has been to mask the feeling that I’m worthless. That I have no value. The drinks and the drugs just helped me to forget that for a while. I still frighten myself a lot. My thoughts scare me. Do I really want to be here for the next thirty or forty years? I don’t know. If suicide wasn’t so impactful on people around you, I would have taken that leap. I don’t enjoy life and never have.”
So . . . Any questions?
****
Steve Albert was Showtime’s blow-by-blow commentator for two decades. But his reach extended far beyond boxing.
Albert’s sojourn through professional sports began in high school when he was a ball boy for the New York Knicks. Over the years, he was behind the microphone for more than a dozen teams in eleven leagues including four NBA franchises.
Putting the length of that trajectory in perspective . . . As a ballboy, Steve handed bottles of water and towels to a Knicks back-up forward named Phil Jackson. Later, they worked together as commentators for the New Jersey Nets. Then Steve provided the soundtrack for some of Jackson’s triumphs when he won eleven NBA championships as head coach of the Chicago Bulls and Los Angeles Lakers.
It’s also a matter of record that Steve’s oldest brother, Marv, was arguably the greatest play-by-play announcer in NBA history. And brother Al enjoyed a successful career behind the microphone after playing professional hockey.
Now Steve has written a memoir titled A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Broadcast Booth. Those who know him know that Steve doesn’t like to say bad things about people. And he doesn’t here. Nor does he delve into the inner workings of sports media or the sports dream machine. The book is largely a collection of lighthearted personal recollections, although there are times when the gravity of boxing forces reflection.
“Fighters were unlike any other professional athletes I had ever encountered,” Albert writes. “Many were products of incomprehensible backgrounds, fiercely tough neighborhoods, ghettos and, in some cases, jungles. Some got into the sport because they were bullied as children. For others, boxing was a means of survival. In many cases, it was an escape from a way of life that most people couldn’t even fathom.”
At one point, Steve recounts a ringside ritual that he followed when he was behind the microphone for Showtime Boxing: “I would precisely line up my trio of beverages – coffee, water, soda – on the far edge of the table closest to the ring apron. Perhaps the best advice I ever received from Ferdie [broadcast partner Ferdie Pacheco] was early on in my blow-by-blow career – ‘Always cover your coffee at ringside with an index card unless you like your coffee with cream, sugar, and blood.’”
Writing about the prelude to the infamous Holyfield-Tyson “bite fight,” Albert recalls, “I remember thinking that Tyson was going to do something unusual that night. I had this sinking feeling in my gut that he was going to pull something exceedingly out of the ordinary. His grousing about Holyfield’s head butts in the first fight added to my concern. [But] nobody could have foreseen what actually happened. Had I opened that broadcast with, ‘Folks, tonight I predict that Mike Tyson will bite off a chunk of Evander Holyfield’s ear,’ some fellas in white coats might have approached me and said, ‘Uh, Steve, could you come with us.'”
And then there’s my favorite line in the book: “I once asked a fighter if he was happily married,” Albert recounts. “He said, ‘Yes, but my wife’s not.'”
“All I ever wanted was to be a sportscaster,” Albert says in closing. “I didn’t always get it right, but I tried to do my job with honesty and integrity. For forty-five years, calling games was my life. I think it all worked out.”
Thomas Hauser’s email address is thomashauserwriter@gmail.com. His next book – The Most Honest Sport: Two More Years Inside Boxing – will be published this month and is available for preorder at:
https://www.amazon.com/Most-Honest-Sport-Inside-Boxing/dp/1955836329
In 2019, Hauser was selected for boxing’s highest honor – induction into the International Boxing Hall of Fame.
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Argentina’s Fernando Martinez Wins His Rematch with Kazuto Ioka

In an excellent fight climaxed by a furious 12th round, Argentina’s Fernando Daniel Martinez came off the deck to win his rematch with Kazuto Ioka and retain his piece of the world 115-pound title. The match was staged at Ioka’s familiar stomping grounds, the Ota-City General Gymnasium in Tokyo.
In their first meeting on July 7 of last year in Tokyo, Martinez was returned the winner on scores of 117-111, 116-112, and a bizarre 120-108. The rematch was slated for late December, but Martinez took ill a few hours before the weigh-in and the bout was postponed.
The 33-year-old Martinez, who came in sporting a 17-0 (9) record, was a 7-2 favorite to win the sequel, but there were plenty of reasons to favor Ioka, 36, aside from his home field advantage. The first Japanese male fighter to win world titles in four weight classes, Ioka was 3-0 in rematches and his long-time trainer Ismael Salas was on a nice roll. Salas was 2-0 last weekend in Times Square, having handled upset-maker Rolly Romero and Reito Tsutsumi who was making his pro debut.
But the fourth time was not a charm for Ioka (31-4-1) who seemingly pulled the fight out of the fire in round 10 when he pitched the Argentine to the canvas with a pair of left hooks, but then wasn’t able to capitalize on the momentum swing.
Martinez set a fast pace and had Ioka fighting off his back foot for much of the fight. Beginning in round seven, Martinez looked fatigued, but the Argentine was conserving his energy for the championship rounds. In the end, he won the bout on all three cards: 114-113, 116-112, 117-110.
Up next for Fernando Martinez may be a date with fellow unbeaten Jesse “Bam” Rodriguez, the lineal champion at 115. San Antonio’s Rodriguez is a huge favorite to keep his title when he defends against South Africa’s obscure Phumelela Cafu on July 19 in Frisco, Texas.
As for Ioka, had he won today’s rematch, that may have gotten him over the hump in so far as making it into the International Boxing Hall of Fame. True, winning titles in four weight classes is no great shakes when the bookends are only 10 pounds apart, but Ioka is still a worthy candidate.
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Emanuel Navarrete Survives a Bloody Battle with Charly Suarez in San Diego

In a torrid battle Mexico’s Emanuel “Vaquero” Navarrete and his staccato attack staved off the herky-jerky non-stop assaults of Philippine’s Charly Suarez to win by technical decision and retain the WBO super feather world title on Saturday.
What do they feed these guys?
Navarrete (40-2-1, 32 KOs) and his elongated arms managed to connect enough to compensate against the surprising Suarez (18-1, 10 KOs) who wowed the crowd at Pechanga Arena in San Diego.
An accidental clash of heads opened a cut on the side of Navarrete’s left eye and forced a stoppage midway through the fight.
From the opening round Navarrete used his windmill style of attack with punches from different angles that caught Suarez multiple times early. It did not matter. Suarez fired back with impunity and was just as hungry to punch it out with the Mexican fighter.
It was savage.
Every time Navarrete connected solidly, he seemed to pause and check out the damage. Bad idea. Suarez would immediately counter with bombs of his own and surprise the champion with his resilience and tenacity.
Wherever they found Suarez they should look for more, because the Filipino fighter from Manila was ferocious and never out of his depth.
Around the sixth round the Mexican fighter seemed a little drained and puzzled at the tireless attacks coming from Suarez. During an exchange of blows a cut opened up on Navarrete and it was ruled an accidental clash of heads by the referee. Blood streamed down the side of Navarrete’s face and it was cleared by the ringside physician.
But at the opening of the eighth round, the fight was stopped and the ringside physician ruled the cut was too bad to continue. The California State Athletic Commission looked at tape of the round when the cut opened to decipher if it was an accidental butt or a punch that caused the cut. It was unclear so the referee’s call of accidental clash of heads stood as the final ruling.
Score cards from the judges saw Navarrete the winner by scores of 78-75, 77-76 twice. He retains the WBO title.
Interim IBF Lightweight Title
The sharp-shooting Raymond “Danger” Muratalla (23-0, 17 KOs) maneuvered past Russia’s Zaur Abdullaev (20-2, 12 KOs) by unanimous decision to win the interim IBF lightweight title after 12 rounds.
Both fighters were strategic in their approach with Muratalla switching from orthodox to southpaw at various times of the fight. Neither fighter was ever able to dominant any round.
Defense proved the difference between the two lightweights. Muratalla was able to slip more blows than Abdullaev and that proved the difference. The fighter from Fontana, California was able to pierce Abdullaev’s guard more often than not, especially with counter punches.
Abdullaev was never out of the fight. The Russian fighter was able to change tactics and counter the counters midway through the fight. It proved effective especially to the body. But it was not enough to offset Muratalla’s accuracy.
There were no knockdowns and after 12 rounds the judges scored it 118-110, 119-109 twice for Muratalla who now becomes the mandatory for the IBF lightweight title should Vasyl Lomachenko return to defend it.
Muratalla was brief.
“He was a tough fighter,” said Muratalla. “My defense is something I work on a lot.”
Perla Wins
Super flyweight Perla Bazaldua (2-0) eased past Mona Ward (0-2) with a polished display of fighting at length and inside.
Combination punching and defense allowed Bazaldua to punch in-between Ward’s attacks and force the St. Louis fighter to clinch repeatedly. But Ward hung in there despite taking a lot of blows. After four rounds the Los Angeles-based Bazaldua was scored the winner 40-36 on all three cards. Bazaldua signed a long term contract with Top Rank in March.
Photo credit: Mikey Williams / Top Rank
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