Marquez Was Skillful Surgeon In World of Butchers

Published

12 years ago

December 11, 2012

Ron Borges

LAS VEGAS – Manny Pacquiao wanted to go toe-to-toe with Juan Manuel Marquez Saturday night. He never imagined such a battle might end with him face-to-floor.

Marquez may be the best counter puncher of his time, a skillful surgeon in a world of butchers. His is a technical proficiency and intellectual approach amid a world of beautiful brutality. Perhaps because of that Pacquiao forgot for a moment the great danger such a man represents at all times but perhaps most of all when it seems he is in trouble.

This was the fourth time the two had squared off, their first fight ending in a controversial draw and the next two unsatisfying disputed split and majority decisions in Pacquiao’s favor. In all three, Marquez had repeatedly landed stunning counter right hands, punches perfectly timed and annoyingly unavoidable by Pacquiao.

Thirteen months ago, Marquez appeared to have landed enough of them to have convincingly beaten Pacquiao only to again see his nemesis’ hand raised. He grew so angry and despondent in the days that followed that he pondered retirement. Manny Pacquiao now wishes he’d followed through on that thought.

What he and his handlers also wish is that Pacquiao had remembered the lesson of their first fight, when he managed to knock Marquez to the floor three times in the first round but barely emerged with a draw. There was a warning in that outcome but in the heat of the moment Saturday night, as the fight seemed to be turning toward the definitive ending both craved, Pacquiao did not heed it.

Angry about having been knocked down himself for the first time since 1999 in the third round by another counter right hand and emboldened in the fifth after dropping Marquez with a solid left, Pacquiao spent most of Round 6 fiercely closing the distance on Marquez and strafing him with powerful combinations.

Pacquiao had already split open the bridge of Marquez’s nose, sending blood careening across his face, and swelling his eyes and left cheek. What he had not done was break either his spirit or his focus. Even as blows rained down on him, Marquez remained what he has always been – both a fierce warrior in the Aztec tradition of his heritage and a completely focused professional hit man.

With the crowd of 16,348 at the MGM Grand Garden Arena roaring with a primal edge to their voices, Pacquiao and Marquez engaged in the toe-to-toe battle Pacquiao had wanted all along and Marquez’s 72-year-old trainer, Nacho Beristain, looked upon with the disdain of a man who favors intellect over bruising. Confident his moment of utter domination had arrived, Pacquiao bounced forward as Marquez took a short step back in the waning seconds of the sixth round, sending a hard right jab in The Technician’s direction.

It never arrived.

Instead, Marquez shot forward with his own counter right the instant Pacquiao’s shoulder shifted forward, the counter punch exploding unseen on Pacquiao’s jaw with concussive force. The instant it did the dream of dominance had been transferred.

Pacquiao’s body shuttered like a man walking the streets of Chicago in winter as an ill-wind howled. His hair flew up and his hands sagged straight down to his lap as he toppled forward, face first into the floor.

So powerful was the devastation that Pacquiao was unable even to break his fall, instead landing like a felled fir. His fists were tucked under him, no longer of use either as weapons or defense mechanisms. Like Pacquiao, they were disarmed.

As Pacquiao fell, Marquez’s mouth turned into a wide O, as if he too was shocked at the destructiveness of that right hand. Below them both Pacquiao’s cutman, Miguel Diaz, had been preparing his enswell but dropped it back into the ice bucket. It would not be needed.

“A fighter goes down like that, face first, it’s over,’’ Diaz said with the detachment of a doctor who has seen destruction too many times before to deny its existence any more.

Pacquiao lay on the floor motionless for several minutes as his future ticked away. Gone was not only the illusion of his past dominance of Marquez but also the delusion a fight with Floyd Mayweather in his future. Outside the ropes his tearful wife, Jinkee, tried to reach her husband but was held back because no one was yet sure how complete his destruction was.

Eventually he stirred after a cold towel was applied to his head. When he awoke he had no idea what happened, believing for a moment he thought he had won. It was the last delusion of the night for him.

“I was starting to get careless because I thought I had him,’’ Pacquiao (54-5-2 38 KO) admitted after several minutes of stone unconsciousness were followed by a glassy-eyed revival. “I was so overconfident I thought ‘I got him.’ I never expected that punch. He got me a good one.’’

To not expect a counter puncher to try and counter speaks to how the moment can overwhelm even the most seasoned boxer. Pacquiao had eaten more right hand counters in the 42 rounds he’d fought with Marquez than in the entire rest of his 61-fight career, yet with the kind of dominating victory he craved so near he forgot for a moment exactly who he was in with.

He didn’t re-learn that lesson until hours later when he watched the fight’s replay in his hotel suite at Mandalay Bay, right across the street from the MGM Grand Garden Arena where he had been defeated. He had returned there after a CT scan at a local hospital proved negative and as he sat surrounded by his entourage Marquez was across the street glorying in victory while Beristain looked at him the way a proud father does a mischievous son who has engaged in behavior he’d been warned about and still emerged victorious.

“I knew the last three rounds Manny was going for the knockout,’’ Marquez said. “I could have been knocked out at any time. I also knew I could knock him out.

“I was fighting on the inside but with a lot of intelligence. I threw the perfect punch.’’

He had already sent Pacquiao crashing down on his back for the first time since 1999 with a counter right in the third round but he’d also been knocked down himself by a left hand in the fifth and his face had begun to show the dents and bruises that result from too many toe-to-toe clashes with an opponent whose goal was to lure you into them.

The bridge of Marquez’s nose had been split open and was bleeding profusely and his face had begun to puff around both eyes and along his left cheek. At that moment he looked every one of his 39 years, a counter puncher who was still landing but also finding himself too often on the wrong end of those exchanges.

But a fighter as smart as Marquez is seldom unaware of both his circumstances and how to right them and so he waited, cunning in his retreat late in the round, as Pacquiao charged him again as Marquez anticipated he would.

By now Pacquiao’s defense, never his best trait, had grown lax. His thoughts were not on protection but rather destruction as he snapped that hard right hand forward, expecting Marquez to retreat into the turnbuckle behind him.

And then he was asleep, awakening some time later to an entirely new world.

Where does boxing’s most popular fighter go from here? No one, not even Pacquiao, can know. He is now on a two-fight losing streak (although his loss to Tim Bradley is so suspect no one considers it one but the record books), the $100-milion dollar showdown with Floyd Mayweather has gone away and his four-fight struggle with Marquez has at least temporarily ended with the Mexican’s hand raised not only Saturday night but probably over the entire affair.

“Everyone would like to see a knockout because (then) all the close fights would go to that person,’’ suggested Pacquiao’s trainer, Freddie Roach, several days before the fight. It was not a thought he ever felt would apply to Pacquiao but that is where he stands today, $25 million richer but poorer in a way that will haunt him for some time.

Immediately after the fight Pacquiao insisted he would fight again while Marquez spoke only of a long rest and decisions to be made. For Marquez the time to retire might never be more perfect.

He had his hand raised, something he said was what fueled the long months of preparation he pushed himself through, he has at least $6 million in his pocket and he has nothing more to prove.

He had won with guile and grit a fight that was for no championship other than the championship over his great rival. If he leaves now, boxing will have ended for him the way it does for few others. It would have ended well.

The same is not true for Manny Pacquiao, who likely will return in the spring against someone newer, younger, hungrier with an old lesson freshly in his mind: the boxing ring is no place for blind aggression.

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Ron Borges

Sam Goodman and Eccentric Harry Garside Score Wins on a Wednesday Card in Sydney

Published

2 days ago

May 14, 2025

Arne K. Lang

Sam-Goodman-and-Eccentric-Harry-Garside-Score-Wins-on-a-Wednesday-Card-in-Sydney

Australian junior featherweight Sam Goodman, ranked #1 by the IBF and #2 by the WBO, returned to the ring today in Sydney, NSW, and advanced his record to 20-0 (8) with a unanimous 10-round decision over Mexican import Cesar Vaca (19-2). This was Goodman’s first fight since July of last year. In the interim, he twice lost out on lucrative dates with Japanese superstar Naoya Inoue. Both fell out because of cuts that Goodman suffered in sparring.

Goodman was cut again today and in two places – below his left eye in the eighth and above his right eye in the ninth, the latter the result of an accidental head butt – but by then he had the bout firmly in control, albeit the match wasn’t quite as one-sided as the scores (100-90, 99-91, 99-92) suggested. Vaca, from Guadalajara, was making his first start outside his native country.

Goodman, whose signature win was a split decision over the previously undefeated American fighter Ra’eese Aleem, is handled by the Rose brothers — George, Trent, and Matt — who also handle the Tszyu brothers, Tim and Nikita, and two-time Olympian (and 2021 bronze medalist) Harry Garside who appeared in the semi-wind-up.

Harry Garside

A junior welterweight from a suburb of Melbourne, Garside, 27, is an interesting character. A plumber by trade who has studied ballet, he occasionally shows up at formal gatherings wearing a dress.

Garside improved to 4-0 (3 KOs) as a pro when the referee stopped his contest with countryman Charlie Bell after five frames, deciding that Bell had taken enough punishment. It was a controversial call although Garside — who fought the last four rounds with a cut over his left eye from a clash of heads in the opening frame – was comfortably ahead on the cards.

Heavyweights

In a slobberknocker being hailed as a shoo-in for the Australian domestic Fight of the Year, 34-year-old bruisers Stevan Ivic and Toese Vousiutu took turns battering each other for 10 brutal rounds. It was a miracle that both were still standing at the final bell. A Brisbane firefighter recognized as the heavyweight champion of Australia, Ivic (7-0-1, 2 KOs) prevailed on scores of 96-94 and 96-93 twice. Melbourne’s Vousiuto falls to 8-2.

Tim Tsyzu.

The oddsmakers have installed Tim Tszyu a small favorite (minus-135ish) to avenge his loss to Sebastian Fundora when they tangle on Sunday, July 20, at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas.

Their first meeting took place in this same ring on March 30 of last year. Fundora, subbing for Keith Thurman, saddled Tszyu with his first defeat, taking away the Aussie’s WBO 154-pound world title while adding the vacant WBC belt to his dossier. The verdict was split but fair. Tszyu fought the last 11 rounds with a deep cut on his hairline that bled profusely, the result of an errant elbow.

Since that encounter, Tszyu was demolished in three rounds by Bakhram Murtazaliev in Orlando and rebounded with a fourth-round stoppage of Joey Spencer in Newcastle, NSW. Fundora has been to post one time, successfully defending his belts with a dominant fourth-round stoppage of Chordale Booker.

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Thomas Hauser’s Literary Notes: Johnny Greaves Tells a Sad Tale

Published

5 days ago

May 11, 2025

Thomas Hauser

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

Published

5 days ago

May 11, 2025

Arne K. Lang

Argentina's-Fernando-Martinez-Wins-His-Rematch-with-Kazuto-Ioka

In an excellent fight climaxed by a furious 12^th 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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