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What Floyd Mayweather Might Learn From Manny Pacquiao

“Pacquiao’s a has-been, his career is over,” Floyd Mayweather said three months ago in San Antonio during a stop on the ten-city press tour he and Saul “Canelo” Alvarez did to promote their September 14th junior middleweight title bout.
Regardless of his stinging assessment, the reigning pound for pound king had no qualms barking yet more orders to the “has-been” Pacquiao through the press. Mayweather told boxing writer Kevin Iole of Yahoo Sports:
“Everybody’s like, ‘Aw, Pacquiao,’ but I’m just letting you know he’s not getting a fight with me. The only way he’s getting the fight with me is if he signs with Mayweather Promotions. He’s got to give me fights with Mayweather Promotions. If he don’t give me no fights under Mayweather Promotions, then he’s not getting the fight. That’s how it is working now, because the ball is in my court. The ball has been in my court.”
Mayweather went on to detail how hard he tried to share said ball with Pacquiao (seen in above Chris Farina-Top Rank photo) by making the one fight every red-blooded boxing fan in the universe wanted to see back then, when Pacquiao was at his peak. One can only assume, of course, the version of Pacquiao our friend Mayweather was referring to was the one who obliterated Ricky Hatton and dismembered Miguel Cotto circa 2009. After all, that version of Pacquiao would have been a tough out for any welterweight in the world at the time, even the audaciously gifted Mayweather.
Alas, it never happened. And there’s no use recounting it all here. If you’re a boxing fan, you know the story. If you don’t, save yourself the trouble. It was all rising action and no climax, a fight without punches, dark clouds without a storm.
“I wanted to fight Pacquiao at one particular time, but I wanted to fight him when he was at the top. I’m not going to speak on another man’s finance business, but like I said before, I left Top Rank for a reason. He’s with Top Rank, so I want him to be happy with Top Rank.”
At 34, the diminished Manny Pacquiao’s career continues under the banner of promotional partner Top Rank this November when he will face the brave but likely outclassed Brandon Rios in Macau, China. With a win, Pacquiao and his handlers will hope to salvage a career laid waste by one of the more devastatingly perfect punches you’ll ever see in the sport.
Last December, just when it seemed the popular Filipino was at long last on the verge of overwhelming his arch-nemesis, Juan Manuel Marquez, in the sixth round of their fourth and maybe final encounter, Pacquiao was concussed down to the cold, harsh reality of the unforgiving blue canvas by a singularly beautiful and savagely delivered right hand counterpunch.
Poor Pacquiao never saw it coming.
With ten seconds remaining in Round 6, Pacquiao had landed a vicious left cross. Soon, he had Marquez backing into the ropes in retreat. It seemed the end was near. Pacquiao feinted a jab, but was suddenly stunned by Marquez, who had ducked under it with absurdly perfect timing to unload that pristine right hand punch to the jaw that Pacquiao never saw coming. His head flipped back violently when it landed, and he melted into the canvas face first.
It was vicious. It was cruel. But it was boxing.
Pacquiao died in that moment. Not the man, of course, but his legend. In the blink of an eye, the previously indestructible Manny Pacquiao, an entire nation’s Superman, was swept into a little pile of rubble, a laughably unintimidating heap of frailty. In just an instant, the fearsome freight train with lightning fast hands made of angry anvils was rendered to a state of fragile weakness. Manny Pacquiao was nothing now.
Nothing.
Mayweather will be nothing one day, too. Sure, it might not happen in the exact same way it did for Pacquiao. After all, where Mayweather is a supreme example for aspiring risk managers everywhere, Pacquiao is the mascot for the gambling sorts. And now that Mayweather has easily outpointed Canelo Alvarez, is there anyone in the boxing world between 140 and 154 pounds to favor against him? Even if he braved the middleweight scene, wouldn’t he likely outbox aging champion Sergio Martinez, too?
No matter. Our grand American hero Mayweather could retire 100-0 someday. The axiom would still hold true. Eventually, no one is what they used to be. No one.
So perhaps Mayweather’s greatest lesson will end up being the one nobody was able to teach him inside the ring: how to lose. And if that’s the case, if Mayweather is the type to struggle for life’s meaning when the lights turn away from him, if he’s the sort to be shocked in the brevity of life’s peak, our pal Floyd need only look to Pacquiao’s knockout loss to Marquez for some inspiration.
In the third round, after Marquez landed several left hooks to the body, Marquez feinted the punch again before sending a long, looping overhand right with the intention of shattering Pacquiao’s crown. The punch seemed almost a full circle. It was slow, deliberate. Everyone in the arena saw it headed Pacquiao’s way. Pacquiao seemed to have long enough to blink several times before it got anywhere near his face. One ringsider swears the person sitting next to him had time for a full yawn while it made its way over.
In his youth, Pacquiao would have gotten out of the way. Or maybe blocked it. In his old age, though, he could but partially catch the punch with his glove, that slow, arching blow, to absorb some of its impact.
It didn’t matter.
This hulking mass of what used to be lightweight champion Juan Manuel Marquez punched with such force now, at welterweight, that such a blow floored Pacquiao for the first time in any of their four fights previous. Pacquiao seemed confused as the reality of it slapped him on the brow, as his bottom titled down towards the welcoming ocean of the canvas. As his shoulders found their new home, Pacquiao’s feet rose slightly as he rolled to his back, perhaps protesting the new physics of a previously familiar environment.
Things were different now, and here was the lesson.
Pacquiao climbed diligently to his feet. His resolve did not vacillate or waver. If anything, the newfound terror of Marquez’s incredibly sudden power brought forth such a burst of light from his soul that one might have believed, if just for that moment, the script of Pacquiao’s legend was closer to its beginning than to its end.
It may have been his finest moment inside the ring.
Pacquiao’s relentless vigor, his singular expression of defiance, carried him oh-so-close to victory. It was close enough to feel the warmth of the approaching light of ardor, close enough to smell the flowers of adulation, close enough to anticipate a quiver of victory.
But these things would never come.
Instead, he had brought himself only close enough to feel the pain of loss in its fullest measure, the terrifying sting in the death of his legend, as he lay down there on the floor, Marquez’s lion’s paw having swept him into a tiny heap of a bashful little lamb.
But after it was over, as the songs were being sung for his opponent now instead of him, as the adulation from those who used to compare him to the greatest of the greats devolved into an especially pathetic form of pity reserved only for fallen fighters, this wretched little Manny Pacquiao did not whimper or cry. He did not stomp his feet on the ground. He did not accuse Marquez of cheating.
Instead, Manny Pacquiao smiled sheepishly for the camera. He looked a bit sad, yes – embarrassed even. But he was not ashamed. His face was brave.
“That’s boxing,” he said just moments after peeling himself out of oblivion.
No, Manny. That’s life.
Kelsey McCarson is a boxing writer for TheSweetScience.com and Bleacher Report. Follow him on Twitter @KelseyMcCarson.
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Avila Perspective, Chap. 326: Top Rank and San Diego Smoke

Avila Perspective, Chap. 326: Top Rank and San Diego Smoke
Years ago, I worked at a newsstand in the Beverly Hills area. It was a 24-hour a day version and the people that dropped by were very colorful and unique.
One elderly woman Eva, who bordered on homeless but pridefully wore lipstick, would stop by the newsstand weekly to purchase a pack of menthol cigarettes. On one occasion, she asked if I had ever been to San Diego?
I answered “yes, many times.”
She countered “you need to watch out for San Diego Smoke.”
This Saturday, Top Rank brings its brand of prizefighting to San Diego or what could be called San Diego Smoke. Leading the fight card is Mexico’s Emanuel Navarrete (39-2-1, 32 KOs) defending the WBO super feather title against undefeated Filipino Charly Suarez (18-0, 10 KOs) at Pechanga Arena. ESPN will televise.
This is Navarrete’s fourth defense of the super feather title.
The last time Navarrete stepped in the boxing ring he needed six rounds to dismantle the very capable Oscar Valdez in their rematch. One thing about Mexico City’s Navarrete is he always brings “the smoke.”
Also, on the same card is Fontana, California’s Raymond Muratalla (22-0, 17 KOs) vying for the interim IBF lightweight title against Russia’s Zaur Abdullaev (20-1, 12 KOs) on the co-main event.
Abdullaev has only fought once before in the USA and was handily defeated by Devin Haney back in 2019. But that was six years ago and since then he has knocked off various contenders.
Muratalla is a slick fighting lightweight who trains at the Robert Garcia Boxing Academy now in Moreno Valley, Calif. It’s a virtual boot camp with many of the top fighters on the West Coast available to spar on a daily basis. If you need someone bigger or smaller, stronger or faster someone can match those needs.
When you have that kind of preparation available, it’s tough to beat. Still, you have to fight the fight. You never know what can happen inside the prize ring.
Another fighter to watch is Perla Bazaldua, 19, a young and very talented female fighter out of the Los Angeles area. She is trained by Manny Robles who is building a small army of top female fighters.
Bazaldua (1-0, 1 KO) meets Mona Ward (0-1) in a super flyweight match on the preliminary portion of the Top Rank card. Top Rank does not sign many female fighters so you know that they believe in her talent.
Others on the Top Rank card in San Diego include Giovani Santillan, Andres Cortes, Albert Gonzalez, Sebastian Gonzalez and others.
They all will bring a lot of smoke to San Diego.
Probox TV
A strong card led by Erickson “The Hammer” Lubin (26-2, 18 KOs) facing Ardreal Holmes Jr. (17-0, 6 KOs) in a super welterweight clash between southpaws takes place on Saturday at Silver Spurs Arena in Kissimmee, Florida. PROBOX TV will stream the fight card.
Ardreal has rocketed up the standings and now faces veteran Lubin whose only losses came against world titlists Sebastian Fundora and Jermell Charlo. It’s a great match to decide who deserves a world title fight next.
Another juicy match pits Argentina’s Nazarena Romero (14-0-2) against Mexico’s Mayelli Flores (12-1-1) in a female super bantamweight contest.
Nottingham, England
Anthony Cacace (23-1, 8 KOs) defends the IBO super featherweight title against Leigh Wood (28-3, 17 KOs) in Wood’s hometown on Saturday at Nottingham Arena in Nottingham, England. DAZN will stream the Queensberry Promotions card.
Ireland’s Cacace seems to have the odds against him. But he is no stranger to dancing in the enemy’s lair or on foreign territory. He formerly defeated Josh Warrington in London and Joe Cordina in Riyadh in IBO title defenses.
Lampley at Wild Card
Boxing telecaster Jim Lampley will be signing his new book It Happened! at the Wild Card Boxing gym in Hollywood, Calif. on Saturday, May 10, beginning at 2 p.m. Lampley has been a large part of many of the greatest boxing events in the past 40 years. He and Freddie Roach will be at the signing.
Fights to Watch (All times Pacific Time)
Sat. DAZN 11 a.m. Anthony Cacace (23-1) vs Leigh Wood (28-3).
Sat. PROBOX.tv 3 p.m. Erickson Lubin (26-2) vs Ardreal Holmes Jr. (17-0).
Sat. ESPN 7 p.m. Emanuel Navarrete (39-2-1) vs Charly Suarez (18-0); Raymond Muratalla (22-0) vs Zaur Abdullaev (20-1).
Photo credit: Mikey Williams / Top Rank
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“Breadman” Edwards: An Unlikely Boxing Coach with a Panoramic View of the Sport

Stephen “Breadman” Edwards’ first fighter won a world title. That may be some sort of record.
It’s true. Edwards had never trained a fighter, amateur or pro, before taking on professional novice Julian “J Rock” Williams. On May 11, 2019, Williams wrested the IBF 154-pound world title from Jarrett Hurd. The bout, a lusty skirmish, was in Fairfax, Virginia, near Hurd’s hometown in Maryland, and the previously undefeated Hurd had the crowd in his corner.
In boxing, Stephen Edwards wears two hats. He has a growing reputation as a boxing coach, a hat he will wear on Saturday, May 31, at Mandalay Bay in Las Vegas when the two fighters that he currently trains, super middleweight Caleb Plant and middleweight Kyrone Davis, display their wares on a show that will air on Amazon Prime Video. Plant, who needs no introduction, figures to have little trouble with his foe in a match conceived as an appetizer to a showdown with Jermall Charlo. Davis, coming off his career-best win, an upset of previously undefeated Elijah Garcia, is in tough against fast-rising Cuban prospect Yoenli Hernandez, a former world amateur champion.
Edwards’ other hat is that of a journalist. His byline appears at “Boxing Scene” in a column where he answers questions from readers.
It’s an eclectic bag of questions that Breadman addresses, ranging from his thoughts on an upcoming fight to his thoughts on one of the legendary prizefighters of olden days. Boxing fans, more so than fans of any other sport, enjoy hashing over fantasy fights between great fighters of different eras. Breadman is very good at this, which isn’t to suggest that his opinions are gospel, merely that he always has something provocative to add to the discourse. Like all good historians, he recognizes that the best history is revisionist history.
“Fighters are constantly mislabled,” he says. “Everyone talks about Joe Louis’s right hand. But if you study him you see that his left hook is every bit as good as his right hand and it’s more sneaky in terms of shock value when it lands.”
Stephen “Breadman” Edwards was born and raised in Philadelphia. His father died when he was three. His maternal grandfather, a Korean War veteran, filled the void. The man was a big boxing fan and the two would watch the fights together on the family television.
Edwards’ nickname dates to his early teen years when he was one of the best basketball players in his neighborhood. The derivation is the 1975 movie “Cornbread, Earl and Me,” starring Laurence Fishburne in his big screen debut. Future NBA All-Star Jamaal Wilkes, fresh out of UCLA, plays Cornbread, a standout high school basketball player who is mistakenly murdered by the police.
Coming out of high school, Breadman had to choose between an academic scholarship at Temple or an athletic scholarship at nearby Lincoln University. He chose the former, intending to major in criminal justice, but didn’t stay in college long. What followed were a succession of jobs including a stint as a city bus driver. To stay fit, he took to working out at the James Shuler Memorial Gym where he sparred with some of the regulars, but he never boxed competitively.
Over the years, Philadelphia has harbored some great boxing coaches. Among those of recent vintage, the names George Benton, Bouie Fisher, Nazeem Richardson, and Bozy Ennis come quickly to mind. Breadman names Richardson and West Coast trainer Virgil Hunter as the men that have influenced him the most.
We are all a product of our times, so it’s no surprise that the best decade of boxing, in Breadman’s estimation, was the 1980s. This was the era of the “Four Kings” with Sugar Ray Leonard arguably standing tallest.
Breadman was a big fan of Leonard and of Leonard’s three-time rival Roberto Duran. “I once purchased a DVD that had all of Roberto Duran’s title defenses on it,” says Edwards. “This was a back before the days of YouTube.”
But Edwards’ interest in the sport goes back much deeper than the 1980s. He recently weighed in on the “Pittsburgh Windmill” Harry Greb whose legend has grown in recent years to the point that some have come to place him above Sugar Ray Robinson on the list of the greatest of all time.
“Greb was a great fighter with a terrific resume, of that there is no doubt,” says Breadman, “but there is no video of him and no one alive ever saw him fight, so where does this train of thought come from?”
Edwards notes that in Harry Greb’s heyday, he wasn’t talked about in the papers as the best pound-for-pound fighter in the sport. The boxing writers were partial to Benny Leonard who drew comparisons to the venerated Joe Gans.
Among active fighters, Breadman reserves his highest praise for Terence Crawford. “Body punching is a lost art,” he once wrote. “[Crawford] is a great body puncher who starts his knockouts with body punches, but those punches are so subtle they are not fully appreciated.”
If the opening line holds up, Crawford will enter the ring as the underdog when he opposes Canelo Alvarez in September. Crawford, who will enter the ring a few weeks shy of his 38th birthday, is actually the older fighter, older than Canelo by almost three full years (it doesn’t seem that way since the Mexican redhead has been in the public eye so much longer), and will theoretically be rusty as 13 months will have elapsed since his most recent fight.
Breadman discounts those variables. “Terence is older,” he says, “but has less wear and tear and never looks rusty after a long layoff.” That Crawford will win he has no doubt, an opinion he tweaked after Canelo’s performance against William Scull: “Canelo’s legs are not the same. Bud may even stop him now.”
Edwards has been with Caleb Plant for Plant’s last three fights. Their first collaboration produced a Knockout of the Year candidate. With one ferocious left hook, Plant sent Anthony Dirrell to dreamland. What followed were a 12-round setback to David Benavidez and a ninth-round stoppage of Trevor McCumby.
Breadman keeps a hectic schedule. From Monday through Friday, he’s at the DLX Gym in Las Vegas coaching Caleb Plant and Kyrone Davis. On weekends, he’s back in Philadelphia, checking in on his investment properties and, of greater importance, watching his kids play sports. His 14-year-old daughter and 12-year-old son are standout all-around athletes.
On those long flights, he has plenty of time to turn on his laptop and stream old fights or perhaps work on his next article. That’s assuming he can stay awake.
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Arne’s Almanac: The Good, the Bad, and the (Mostly) Ugly; a Weekend Boxing Recap and More

Arne’s Almanac: The Good, the Bad, and the (Mostly) Ugly; a Weekend Boxing Recap and More
It’s old news now, but on back-to-back nights on the first weekend of May, there were three fights that finished in the top six snoozefests ever as measured by punch activity. That’s according to CompuBox which has been around for 40 years.
In Times Square, the boxing match between Devin Haney and Jose Carlos Ramirez had the fifth-fewest number of punches thrown, but the main event, Ryan Garcia vs. Rolly Romero, was even more of a snoozefest, landing in third place on this ignoble list.
Those standings would be revised the next night – knocked down a peg when Canelo Alvarez and William Scull combined to throw a historically low 445 punches in their match in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, 152 by the victorious Canelo who at least pressed the action, unlike Scull (pictured) whose effort reminded this reporter of “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof” – no, not the movie starring Paul Newman, just the title.
CompuBox numbers, it says here, are best understood as approximations, but no amount of rejiggering can alter the fact that these three fights were stinkers. Making matters worse, these were pay-per-views. If one had bundled the two events, rather than buying each separately, one would have been out $90 bucks.
****
Thankfully, the Sunday card on ESPN from Las Vegas was redemptive. It was just what the sport needed at this moment – entertaining fights to expunge some of the bad odor. In the main go, Naoya Inoue showed why he trails only Shohei Ohtani as the most revered athlete in Japan.
Throughout history, the baby-faced assassin has been a boxing promoter’s dream. It’s no coincidence that down through the ages the most common nickname for a fighter – and by an overwhelming margin — is “Kid.”
And that partly explains Naoya Inoue’s charisma. The guy is 32 years old, but here in America he could pass for 17.
Joey Archer
Joey Archer, who passed away last week at age 87 in Rensselaer, New York, was one of the last links to an era of boxing identified with the nationally televised Friday Night Fights at Madison Square Garden.

Joey Archer
Archer made his debut as an MSG headliner on Feb. 4, 1961, and had 12 more fights at the iconic mid-Manhattan sock palace over the next six years. The final two were world title fights with defending middleweight champion Emile Griffith.
Archer etched his name in the history books in November of 1965 in Pittsburgh where he won a comfortable 10-round decision over Sugar Ray Robinson, sending the greatest fighter of all time into retirement. (At age 45, Robinson was then far past his peak.)
Born and raised in the Bronx, Joey Archer was a cutie; a clever counter-puncher recognized for his defense and ultimately for his granite chin. His style was embedded in his DNA and reinforced by his mentors.
Early in his career, Archer was domiciled in Houston where he was handled by veteran trainer Bill Gore who was then working with world lightweight champion Joe Brown. Gore would ride into the Hall of Fame on the coattails of his most famous fighter, “Will-o’-the Wisp” Willie Pep. If Joey Archer had any thoughts of becoming a banger, Bill Gore would have disabused him of that notion.
In all honesty, Archer’s style would have been box office poison if he had been black. It helped immensely that he was a native New Yorker of Irish stock, albeit the Irish angle didn’t have as much pull as it had several decades earlier. But that observation may not be fair to Archer who was bypassed twice for world title fights after upsetting Hurricane Carter and Dick Tiger.
When he finally caught up with Emile Griffith, the former hat maker wasn’t quite the fighter he had been a few years earlier but Griffith, a two-time Fighter of the Year by The Ring magazine and the BWAA and a future first ballot Hall of Famer, was still a hard nut to crack.
Archer went 30 rounds with Griffith, losing two relatively tight decisions and then, although not quite 30 years old, called it quits. He finished 45-4 with 8 KOs and was reportedly never knocked down, yet alone stopped, while answering the bell for 365 rounds. In retirement, he ran two popular taverns with his older brother Jimmy Archer, a former boxer who was Joey’s trainer and manager late in Joey’s career.
May he rest in peace.
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