Roy Jones, Antonio Tarver and Two Gray Birds Who Stare

Published

11 years ago

June 18, 2014

It’s not every day you meet the man who destroyed your childhood hero. I was afforded the opportunity earlier this year in Houston when Antonio Tarver came to town to meet with his public relations firm, ThinkZilla.

This was not a media event. It was him and me, and it was surreal. I make it a point to never meet my childhood idols. In boxing, this would consist of exactly two people: Roy Jones, Jr. and Evander Holyfield. I’ve never had to duck Holyfield, but I’ve been face-to-face with Jones several times over the years. I pass him by as if he were a stranger. I’m not exactly sure why I do this. Is it that I don’t want to be disappointed in someone I looked up to as a kid? Is it that I don’t want him to be disappointed in me? Is it that there’s nothing really to say to him? I don’t know.

But when I learned Tarver had hired ThinkZilla, I contacted them and told them to let me know when he came to town so I could come interview him. I’m always looking for people to talk to for The Sweet Science and Boxing Channel, and honestly, I didn’t immediately connect Tarver to Jones in my mind until the day I was about to meet him.

ThinkZilla’s CEO, Velma Trayham, contacted me Saturday afternoon and told me where to be. I was there within the hour. It hit me hard when he walked into the room. Tarver had effectively destroyed my childhood on May 15, 2003 when he knocked out Jones with one punch at the Mandalay Bay Resort Casino in Las Vegas, Nevada, and I was shaking hands with him.

When I was in my early 20s, I was at a particularly desperate point in my life when I witnessed a miracle. I was a hardcore drug user and I finally wanted help. I was so sick of it all. But that’s not the miracle. Plenty of people go through that.

My dad had dropped me off at what seemed like a thousand miles from nowhere in a little Texas town called Alpine. The thinking behind the move was that I could simply go to college out there and get my life back on track. But Dad was wrong. I quickly found fellow druggies and got right back where I once belonged.

But like I said, one day I was finally sick of all that mess. I was ready to change, but wasn’t quite sure how. I reached out to my parents to try and get into rehab or something but my neither of them wanted to help me. I don’t blame them. I was as trustworthy as a snake.

I was stuck and felt as though I might as well be dead.

I was walking back to the library one day when I saw the miracle. There was a small, gray bird lying dead in one of those big, rectangular ashtrays outside the building. It was an ugly, wretched and dead thing. Like me, I thought. Like me! I could not help but to cry about it. Or maybe I was crying about me. I don’t know. I felt so bad that he had died there like that in those ashes that I took the poor little thing out of there and put him in the green grass where the sunlight could touch him one last time. Soon he would rot and decay, I thought, and it will be as if he’d never been.

I sat there crying. I looked at that bird forever. I do not know if anyone else was around me, though I suppose there were many as I was near a busy walkway. But I cried my desperate little eyes out for that bird and stared at it until my head sunk down so low into my hands that I couldn’t see anymore.

That’s when it happened.

Suddenly, the stiff, dead bird started to regain his color. All of a sudden, he was moving around! I could not believe my eyes. I wiped my tears away and began to laugh from the sheer joy of it all. How could this be? How? He was dead!

Soon the bird stood up on his legs as if he had never been dead at all. He looked at me for a long time. I looked right back at him. It was very peculiar, but I feel like the bird was both thanking me and pitying me at the very same time. Then he flew away into the blue sky.

I wasn’t technically a child the night Tarver knocked out Jones. I was in my early twenties, actually, but I still thought and acted like a one. Believe me. Youth was still served to me in its fullest measure, and while my younger life had experienced a strong serving of pain and suffering, I still maintained a ton of affection for hero-types. It didn’t matter to me whether or not that was a healthy thing, or even if it was truly warranted. That’s just the way it was.

Honestly, part of me still can’t believe Tarver knocked out Jones. How could that even happen? Jones was everything to me. I was nothing and had nothing, but he was everything. He was fast, strong and made everything look so cool. He was the best in the world at what he did.

I didn’t even believe it at first. Tarver knocked him out? With one punch? Was it legit? Was it legal? How could that have possibly happened? It was unfathomable to me. Jones had never come close to tasting defeat. Not really. Up to that point in his career, his lone loss was when he was disqualified for hitting Montell Griffin after he had already put him down on the canvas. He avenged it later with a first round KO of Griffin and made it look easy.

That was Jones. He was Superman.

Jones was the best fighter I’d ever seen. I saw him dominate other fighters the way you might think could only happen in the movies. He knocked out Virgil Hill with a body punch. He played basketball on the same days as he fought. He barley ever lost a round. Heck, I once saw Jones put both hands behind his back before luring a fighter named Glen Kelly in close for the knockout blow.

Jones just couldn’t be touched. He was the best ever. Well, at least to me.

But Tarver didn’t think so. After going 12 rounds with Jones the year prior and losing a majority decision, Tarver was sure he could beat him. In fact, Tarver told me he thought he beat Jones the first time. After all, he threw and landed more punches in the fight, and appeared to control the action throughout.

But Jones had a fairly good excuse, and I believed it. The fight took place just six months after he had moved up to heavyweight to snatch a title belt away from John Ruiz. Jones had to lose 25 pounds to come back down to 175, and he appeared gaunt and listless like never before.

The two met again the very next year.

Jones blamed his subpar performance in the first fight on the weight issue. During the prefight instructions at center of the ring, referee Jay Nady asked if anyone had any questions. Tarver replied, “I got a question. You got any excuses tonight, Roy?” I mean, he said that to Roy Jones, Jr.! Can you believe it? This dude was in trouble! Right? Jones was going to knock him out with one punch!

Things looked good at first. Jones won the first round on all three official scorecards. But during an exchange in the second round, Tarver dropped Jones with a deadly accurate overhand left flush to the chin. Jones went down like he just got hit by a bowling ball. He rose at the count of nine but the fight was rightly waved off when he stumbled across the ring into the ropes like a newborn baby deer.

I was absolutely crushed. Superman was dead. In that one moment, someone who grew up believing Jones was invincible was slapped aside the head with the stark reality of truth: no one is invincible. Not even Jones.

It took much longer than I’d like to admit to get clean after witnessing such an amazing and astonishing miracle, but I eventually did it. I never forgot that little, sweet bird and what he meant to me. But I soon began to doubt exactly what happened that day. How could that bird have been dead? That’s impossible. Right?

But sometime later in my life, maybe in my early 30s, during another particularly desperate moment, it happened again. I was in the side bedroom, the one where I thought my wife and I would have one of our children in someday. But we didn’t have kids after years and years of trying and still haven’t. We may never have them. Such is life.

It was with great horror when I saw it that day: our two dogs playing with a wounded gray bird. It was barely alive and could not fly. It was broken. Like me, I thought. Like me.

I ran outside as fast as I could but it was far too late. That bird was dead. I was so very sad for him. But I had seen a bird come back to life before, so I wondered if it could happen again. I felt so desperate. I found sunlight for the bird atop the back ledge of our fence. I placed him there and prayed for him. Maybe he could be fixed, too.

As you can imagine, it didn’t work. I began to cry. I had been crazy after all. While I wasn’t on drugs when I saw that first bird come back to life, maybe my mind was already so warped that I couldn’t really understand what actually happened that day. Now that I was sober for over 10 years, my brain worked as well as anyone else’s. This broken little bird was dead. He was not coming back to life again. My head sunk down so low into my hands that I couldn’t see anymore.

That’s when it happened. When I lifted my head back up to see him, the bird was gone!

What? Surely, the wind had blown him off the fence and he had fallen down to the ground. Right? Except that there was no wind that day. Still, maybe he just rolled off onto to the ground or something. Maybe I had pushed him off while I was crying or something. I don’t know. I had seen stranger things, so I looked everywhere he could have fallen. I searched frantically for that precious little bird but he wasn’t there. He wasn’t anywhere! He was gone.

Then I heard a bird sing.

I looked high above to see a bird sitting on the electrical wire above me. He looked down on me. Again, it was as if he was looking at me with a mixture of thankfulness and pity. The bird flew down towards me from the wire to the fence where I had placed him as if he wanted to get a closer look at me. He stared awhile before flying off again into the deep blue sky.

Meeting Tarver was strange. Now 45 years old, it was interesting to hear him talk about his various exploits, both inside the ring and out. What struck me was how often he seemed to reference that singular moment in time, too.

At one point in our talk, I said something like: I have to tell you, I was one of the people you devastated that night you knocked Jones out. There was an entire generation of people like me who believed he was invincible.

“I know, man,” said Tarver. “I know.”

But here’s the most interesting thing, something I only realized after talking to Tarver. He didn’t knock Jones out my memory that night. Jones will always be Jones to me, the way I can turn on ESPN Classic and see Muhammad Ali being Ali in 1965, or the way I can turn on my iPod and still listen to The Beatles be The Beatles. Things change but they always stay the same.

Recently, it has felt as if my heart is being torn up inside me, bit by bit – I literally feel as if I am being ripped in half from the top down to the bottom. I don’t know why it’s happening. I wish I did, but I don’t. Things that seemed so important seem less so now.

My life seems so small.

But here is the strangest thing: two little gray birds have been coming over to the window where I sit to peck at it with their beaks. It has happened every day for over a week now. It happened twice today as I am writing this. This has never, ever happened before, and I have lived in this house for over six years. But these little gray birds come every day as if they refuse to let me ignore them.

They look at me the same way the other two birds did, with a mixture of thankfulness and pity. Mostly, though, these birds just look at me with their deep, black eyes. They sit there and stare at me. They just stare at me, pecking at the window, and I cry.

Everything ends. But in a way, nothing really ever ends, too. Jones will always be Jones to me. Not the one Tarver knocked out way back then. Not the one who continues to fight long after his sell by date. Not the one recently caught sending nude pictures of himself to a female boxer named Stacey Reile.

No, Jones will always be Jones to me, the one I thought was Superman. And sure, the wisdom that comes with age and experience tell me heroes and such are silly matters, little and worldly trifles that shouldn’t really mean anything to me as I grow older.

But to the wonderfully fragile part of me, the one that believes dead things will live again someday, that doesn’t matter at all.

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Kelsey McCarson

Greg Haugen (1960-2025) was Tougher than the Toughest Tijuana Taxi Driver

Published

19 hours ago

February 24, 2025

Arne K. Lang

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Many years ago, this reporter overhead ring announcer Chuck Hull gushing over a young boxer who was fairly new to the professional game. “This kid,” he said, referencing Greg Haugen, “is another Gene Fullmer.”

Hull, who would be inducted posthumously into the International Boxing Hall of Fame, was very familiar with Fullmer, a boxer he greatly admired. The ring announcer had worked two of Fullmer’s title fights, Gene’s 15-round decision over Sugar Ray Robinson in March of 1961 and his 10^th-round stoppage of Benny “Kid” Paret later that year.

There was a stylistic similarity between Haugen and Fullmer, but the comparison went beyond that. When the cognoscenti in New York got their first look at Gene Fullmer, they dismissed him as just another good club fighter. It was preposterous to think that one day he would defeat the great Sugar Ray Robinson, and never mind that Sugar Ray’s best days were behind him. (Fullmer and Robinson fought three times. The middle fight was a 15-round draw. Robinson won the first encounter with a vicious one-punch knockout.)

Likewise, even after recording three consecutive upsets in 10-rounders at the Showboat in Las Vegas, Greg Haugen was considered nothing more than a good club fighter. He had a wealth of grit, one could see, but in the eyes of the so-called experts, he was too one-dimensional. It was far-fetched to think that one day he would defeat an opponent as slick as Hector Camacho, but we are getting ahead of ourselves.

Greg Haugen, who passed away last Saturday (Feb. 22) at age 64 in a Seattle-area hospice after a three-year battle with renal cancer, entered the pro ranks after winning Tough Man competitions in Alaska. A native of Auburn, Washington, his first documented fight was in Anchorage. Each of his first five fights was slated for 10 rounds.

Those three upsets were forged against Freddie Roach, Chris Calvin, and Charlie “White Lightning” Brown. Two more fights at the Showboat would follow preceding a date with IBF 135-pound champion Jimmy Paul at the Caesars Palace Sports Pavilion. A protégé of Emanuel Steward, Paul was a product of Detroit’s fabled Kronk Gym.

Haugen was one of the first boxers to cultivate a cult following on ESPN. This owed partly to his attractive young wife and their two daughters, adorable little girls, who appeared on camera a lot as they cheered him on from their ringside seats. That marriage was crumbling when Haugen caught up with Jimmy Paul, but Greg overcame the distraction and captured the title with a hard-earned, 15-round majority decision. According to an Associated Press report, Haugen supplemented his $50,000 purse by getting a $2,000 advance and betting on himself at 4/1 odds.

Haugen lost the title and suffered his first defeat in his first title defense, a 15-rounder with Vinny Pazienza before a rabid pro-Pazienza crowd in Providence, Rhode Island. The “Pazmanian Devil” won five of the last six rounds on all three scorecards to win a unanimous decision, but ended the battle with his face all marked-up. “Many ringside observers, including the majority of out-of-town press, had Haugen the winner,” wrote Boston Globe boxing columnist Ron Borges.

They fought twice more. Haugen recaptured the belt with a wide 15-round decision in the rematch in Atlantic City and Pazienza emerged victorious in the rubber match, winning a 10-round decision. It was a great rivalry. Aggregating the scorecards after 40 bruising rounds, Haugen nipped it 1141-1136.

Between his second and third meetings with Pazienza, Haugen was outclassed by defensive wizard Pernell Whitaker on Whitaker’s turf in Virginia, but Greg’s days as a world title-holder were not over yet.

On Feb. 23, 1991, fighting at 140 pounds, his more natural weight, Haugen became the first man to defeat Hector Camacho, scoring a split decision over the 38-0 Bronx Puerto Rican who was defending his WBO belt. The match at Caesars Palace would have ended in a draw if not for the fact that referee Carlos Padilla docked Camacho a point for refusing to touch gloves at the start of the final round.

For Haugen, a noted spoiler, it was the biggest upset of his career. In the sports books around town, Camacho was as high as a 10-1 favorite.

The rematch in Reno followed a similar tack; it was a very close fight, but Camacho won a split decision and Haugen’s third world title reign, like his first, ended in his first defense.

Haugen returned to Reno the next year where he ended the career of Ray “Boom Boom” Mancini, stopping the former lightweight title-holder and future Hall of Famer in the seventh frame. And then, after defeating two fourth-rate opponents, he was thrust into the fight for which he is best remembered.

Greg Haugen vs. Julio Cesar Chavez at Mexico City’s Azteca Stadium wasn’t a great fight, but it was a great spectacle. The announced attendance, 132,247, broke the record set in 1926 when 120,557 jammed Philadelphia’s Sesquicentennial Stadium for the first meeting between Jack Dempsey and Gene Tunney.

Those that were there will never forget it. Ring announcer Jimmy Lennon Jr recalled that there were little fires up in the far reaches of the mammoth stadium where people were cooking the food they had brought. “I remember thinking that this was more of a mass celebration than just a sporting event,” reminisced Lennon Jr who compared the event to Woodstock in a conversation with Bernard Fernandez for a story that ran on these pages.

Haugen goosed the gate by saying that Chavez had built his record, reportedly 84-0, on the backs of “Tijuana taxi drivers that my mom could whip.” Chavez took it personally and, to the great jubilation of the great multitude, he punished the American before taking him out in the fifth round.

Other boxers since then, lacking Haugen’s originality, have also demeaned their opponent’s conglomeration of former opponents as a bunch of Tijuana taxi drivers. The term seems to have supplanted “tomato cans” as a term of derision. So, Greg Haugen’s legacy extends beyond what he accomplished in the ring. He left an acorn in the storehouse of American slang.

After being manhandled by Julio Cesar Chavez, Haugen sheepishly said, “They must have been very tough taxi drivers.” He would have 15 more fights before leaving the sport in 1999 with a record of 39-10-2 with 19 KOs. In retirement, he trained a few boxers but couldn’t keep at it after suffering nerve damage in his left arm working the pads with a heavyweight.

There were undoubtedly some very tough guys in the ranks of Tijuana taxi drivers, but in a conventional boxing match, Greg Haugen would have likely whipped them all. He was nowhere as great as the stupefyingly sappy post-mortem tribute that ran in a small Washington paper, but he was tough as nails.

Greg Haugen is survived by four children – two daughters and two sons — and five grandchildren. Speaking to Kevin Iole, his daughter Cassandra Haugen said, “He was a good man with a huge heart. He came from nowhere and made himself into a champion, but he was always a kind-hearted man and just the best Dad.”

We here at TSS send our condolences to his loved ones. May he rest in peace.

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Nakatani, Japan’s Other Superstar, Blows Away Cuellar in the Third Frame

Published

1 day ago

February 24, 2025

Arne K. Lang

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WBO world bantamweight champion Junto Nakatani continued his steady advance toward a mega-fight with countryman Naoya Inoue at Ariake Arena in Tokyo tonight with a third-round stoppage of David Cuellar.

After two nondescript rounds, the 27-year-old, five-foot-eight southpaw stepped on the gas and scored two knockdowns before Canadian referee Michael Griffin waived it off. The first knockdown was the result of combination of body punches. As soon as Cuellar got to his feet, Nakatani was all over him. Another combination, this time upstairs, knocked Cuellar on his rump. Looking very discouraged, he made a half-hearted attempt to beat the count and almost made it, not that it would have mattered as he was a cooked goose. The official time was 3:04 of round three.

Nakatani (30-0, 23 KOs) was making his third title defense. He trains in LA with TSS 2024 Trainer of the Year Rudy Hernandez. It was the first pro loss for Cuellar (28-1) who hails from the Mexican city of Queretaro and was making his first start outside his native country.

Nakatani has indicated an interest in unifying the belt which potentially portends three more domestic fights as all four pieces of the 118-pound title are currently in the hands of Japanese boxers. “Bam” Rodriguez and former pound-for-pound star “Chocolatito” Gonzalez sit a division below him and may also be in his future, but the big money is in a showdown with Inoue, the undisputed 122-pound champion. That match-up, when it transpires, will be the first all-Japanese fight to arouse the interest of casual boxing fans around the world.

Other Bouts of Note

Super bantamweight Tenshin Nasukawa took a massive step up in class and was successful, scoring a unanimous 10-round decision over Jason Moloney. The scores were 98-92 and 97-93 twice.

The 26-year-old southpaw has made great gains since his embarrassing loss to Floyd Mayweather Jr on New Year’s Eve of 2018. In that match, the baby-faced Nasukawa failed to survive the opening round and left the ring crying. Heading in to that match, framed as a 3-round exhibition, Tenshin was reportedly 46-0 as a kickboxer and rated in some quarters as the best kickboxer of all time.

After only five pro fights compressed into 30 rounds, the WBA saw fit to rank Nasukawa at #2. He could have embarrassed the organization (check that; the WBA has no shame) by getting his butt kicked by Moloney, a former world title-holder, but Nasakawa (6-0, 2 KOs) rose to the occasion and scored his best win to date. A 34-year-old Aussie, Moloney declined to 27-4.

The 12-round contest between bantamweights Seiya Tsutsumi and Daigo Higa was a spirited contest that ended in a draw. The scores were 114-114 across the board.

The 29-year-old Tsutsumi (12-0-3) was making the first defense of the WBA title he won with a 12-round decision over Takuma Inoue (Naoya’s brother). Higa, also 29 and now 21-3-2, was a former WBC flyweight titlist.

Tsutsumi had an uphill battle after suffering a bad gash on his forehead from an accidental clash of heads in the fourth round. The hill got steeper after Higa put him on the canvas with a left hook in round nine. But Tsutsumi responded with a knockdown of his own in that same round and finished strong, seemingly doing enough to retain his title.

This was their second meeting. Their first encounter in October of 2020, a 10-rounder on a club show at historic Korakuen Hall, also ended in a draw.

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The Hauser Report — Riyadh Season and Sony Hall: Very Big and Very Small

Published

2 days ago

February 23, 2025

Thomas Hauser

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Larry Goldberg promoted his eleventh club fight card at Sony Hall in New York on February 20, continuing the Boxing Insider series that began in October 2022.

Goldberg is well thought of in boxing circles. Matchmaker Eric Bottjer notes, “Here are some words that I have not heard in connection with Larry: ‘Scam artist . . . Liar . . . Untrustworthy.’ He has a good reputation. That doesn’t equate to success on its own. But it’s good when you’re sitting down with people who might want to work with you.”

That said; the life of a small promoter is hard. Goldberg’s February 20 show is a case in point.

Six fights had been scheduled. But last-minute, chaos reigned. The New York State Athletic Commission refused to clear one fighter because of a troubling MRI. Another fighter pulled out because his father thought that his B-side opponent (who had a (6-17-3 record with 6 KOs by) was “the wrong style.” Then the mother of a third fighter tried to hold Goldberg up for an increase in her son’s purse from $1,200 to $2,000 and the fight disappeared when Larry balked at her demand.

That left three fights. And guess what? It was a surprisingly entertaining card. The fights were more competitive that most club fights. And all six fighters came to win.

Jason Castanon (1-1, 1 KO) vs. Stephen Barbee (0-2, 1 KO by) was the first bout of the evening. Neither man was particularly skilled. But they fought hard and both men had a chance to win. Castanon emerged on the long end of a 39-37, 39-37, 38-38 majority decision.

Koby Khalil Williams (4-0, 3 KOs) vs. Nicholas Isaac (5-0, 4 KOs) was next up.

Williams’s four wins had come against opponents who now have a total of 4 wins in 48 fights. Isaac’s record had been fashioned against opponents who are 9-and-49 with 24 KOs by. The bout was a significant step up for both men. The result was a spirited, six-round action fight with Isaac prevailing on all three judges’ scorecards.

Finally, Avious Griffin (16-0, 15 KOs) squared off against Jose Luis Sanchez (14-4-1, 4 KOs, 1 KO by). Griffin has built his record by fighting opponents with limited skills. Sanchez fit that profile. Both men threw non-stop punches. But Griffin’s were faster, straighter, more accurate, and harder. Sanchez was dropped three times in the early rounds (by a left hook, an overhand right, and a right uppercut). In round five, Griffin appeared to tire a bit. And Sanchez was still there. At that point, the fight devolved into an “I’ll punch you and then you punch me” affair, and it seemed possible that Avious would crumble. But he didn’t. Jose Luis had a lot of heart. He just wasn’t good enough. Griffin regrouped and ended matters on an eight-round stoppage with Sanchez still on his feet.

Avious Griffin

Watching the fights, my mind went back to a conversation I had with Ray Arcel when I began writing about boxing four decades ago.

Arcel (a Hall of Fame legend who trained scores of world champions during his years in the sweet science) told me, “Too many people don’t take pride in what they do. They do just enough to get by, maybe to hold onto their jobs, and that’s all. A fighter can’t be like that.” And Arcel went on to reminisce about a time when four-round preliminary fighters on their way to the gym would look back over their shoulder and see kids following them on the street, offering to carry their gym bag. A fighter would come home and neighborhood children would be sitting on the stoop, looking at him and saying, “Wow, he’s a fighter.”

There used to be glory at the club fight level. Being a good club fighter was an end in itself. Now, for the most part, club fights are regarded as stepping stones for prospects who face off against woefully overmatched opponents. On February 20, Larry Goldberg gave boxing fans three good club fights.

****

Two nights later, on February 22, the latest Riyadh Season fight card took place in Saudi Arabia. Seven fights of note were on the card, leading the promotion to proclaim that it was “the greatest fight card in the history of boxing.”

It wasn’t. And that was true even before Daniel Dubois and Floyd Schofield pulled out of scheduled title fights due to illness.

You don’t put “the greatest fight card ever” in a 6,000-seat arena (Venue Riyadh Season) when the 25,000-seat Kingdom Arena is next door. Moreover, fight cards are judged in large measure by the main event. And the main event here wasn’t a megafight on the order of Leonard-Hearns I or a half-dozen Muhammad Ali encounters.

That said; it was an exceptionally good card. Credit to Turki Alalshikh for putting it together. Thumbnail sketches of the fights that mattered most (in the order that they occurred) follow.

Callum Smith broke Joshua Buatsi down with a brutal body attack in the middle rounds. Both fighters were hurt as the fight went on. But Buatsi was hurt more and more often. It was a very good fight with Smith prevailing on a 119-110 (which was way out of line), 116-112, 115-113 decision.

Zhilel Zhang vs. Agit Kabayel was an entertaining slugfest with both men evincing a conspicuous lack of upper-body and head movement. After a cautious first round, Kabayel attacked. Zhang, who is 41 years old and has never been in particularly good shape, started fading in round three. Kabayel got sloppy in round four and was dropped by a straight left hand. But Agit went back on the offensive and stopped Zhang with body shots in the fifth stanza.

Vergil Ortiz Jr. vs. Israil Madrimov was a fight that boxing purists were looking forward to. Ortiz is a puncher and wanted to engage. Madrimov didn’t. Israil kept skittering around the ring and Virgil couldn’t figure him out. Then the Energizer Bunny wore down and there were some heated exchanges. That was the fight Virgil (who began scoring big to the body) wanted. Ortiz won a 117-111, 115-113, 115-113 decision.

Carlos Adames vs. Hamzah Sheeraz for Adames’s WBC 160-pound belt had particular significance. Sheeraz (a 5-to-2 betting favorite) is a favorite of Turki Alalshikh who had big plans for him. The belief was that Hamzah would beat Carlos and continue to increase his profile. Meanwhile, Canelo Alvarez’s four-fight deal with Riyadh Season will begin with fights against William Scull and Terence Crawford this year. Then, the thinking went, Canelo would fight the winner of Chris Eubank Jr vs. Conor Benn on Cinco de Mayo Weekend 2026 followed by a fight against Sheeraz on next year’s Mexican Independence Day Weekend.

Adames-Sheeraz was a step-up fight for Sherraz. And he fell short of expectations.

After a cautious first round, Adames began stalking. He couldn’t get past Sheeraz’s jab. Hamzah dictated the distance between them with his jab and footwork. But Sheeraz seemed intimidated and threw few punches of consequence. It was a slow fight. Carlos didn’t silence the crowd. But Hamzah did. The judges ruled the fight a split-decision draw, which meant that Adames retained his title.

Shakur Stevenson vs. Josh Padley was not a good fight. Floyd Scholfield (an 8-to-1 underdog) fell out as Stevenson’s opponent for medical reasons during fight week. Padley, a 30-to-1 underdog. took his place. The typical Shakur Stevenson opponent is slow without much of a punch. Padley is slow without much of a punch. Prior to being called in as a late replacement earlier in the week, he had been on the job installing solar panels. Shakur stopped him in the ninth round.

Then the heavyweights returned to center stage – Joseph Parker vs. Martin Bakole. Parker had been slated to challenge Daniel Dubois for Dubois’ alphabet-soup “championship” belt. But two days before the fight, Dubois pulled out after contracting a viral infection.

Large amounts of money can do wondrous things. When Larry Goldberg lost three fighters during fight week, he was left with a three-bout card. When Dubois was scratched, Turki Alalshikh simply opened his checkbook and brought in Bakole.

Martin was in Africa when he got the call and arrived in Riyadh at 2:00 AM on the day of the fight. Most of us have trouble keeping our eyes open after a trans-continental fight. Bakole had to fight Parker. Moreover, Martin weighed in at a massive 315 pounds, which clearly indicated that he wasn’t in shape (unless one considers round a shape).

Round one saw Parker biding his time while Bakole plodded slowly forward. Two minutes into the second stanza, Joseph landed a glancing right hand off the top of Martin’s head. Bakole went down. He got up. And his corner stopped the fight.

That wasn’t what fans were hoping for. But then they were treated to an exceptionally good fight.

Artur Beterbiev was an 11-to-10 favorite over Dmitry Bivol in a rematch of their October 2024 title-unification bout which Beterbiev won on a close majority-decision. This time, as before, the momentum swung back and forth. But this fight was more intensely contested than their first encounter.

Beterbiev came out hard. He couldn’t reach Bivol, who was circling away and outjabbing him. But Artur was relentless. He started landing and, by the middle rounds, was outpunching and outboxing Dmitry. Then Beterbiev (who at age forty is six years older than Bivol) tired a bit and Dmitry regained control of the contest. Both men were in good condition. Fighting desperately at the end, Artur finished stronger. But this time, the majority decision was in Bivol’s favor.

“What was different?” Dmitry was asked after the fight.

“Just me,” BivoI answered. “I was better.”

****

And a note from the past . . .

In 2004, Tom Gerbasi (who was writing for Maxboxing.com at the time) went to the PAL Gym in Upper Darby, Pennsylvania, to record a video interview with Bernard Hopkins while Bernard was training to fight Oscar De La Hoya.

“Hopkins wanted to do the interview while he was getting his hands wrapped,” Gerbasi recalls. “But there was a problem. My camera guy wasn’t there. Hopkins is telling me, ‘Look! I gotta do this now because I have to get my workout in.’ So I interviewed him for twenty minutes while Bouie Fisher was wrapping his hands without my camera guy there. Then Hopkins sparred and went through the rest of his workout. He’s done for the day and getting ready to leave the gym. And finally, my camera guy shows up. He’s very apologetic. He tells us he’s late because he was pulled over by the police and handcuffed because of a bunch of unpaid traffic tickets, which I assume were moving violations. Bernard says, ‘Show me your wrists.’ So my guy shows Bernard his wrists. There were marks from the handcuffs all over them. And Bernard tells us, ‘Okay. Set up the camera.” I did the interview all over again and wound up writing a four-part piece, ten thousand words.”

Thomas Hauser’s email address is thomashauserwriter@gmail.com. His most recent book – MY MOTHER and me – is a personal memoir available at Amazon.com. https://www.amazon.com/My-Mother-Me-Thomas-Hauser/dp/1955836191/ref=sr_1_1?crid=5C0TEN4M9ZAH&keywords=thomas+hauser&qid=1707662513&sprefix=thomas+hauser%2Caps%2C80&sr=8-1

In 2004, the Boxing Writers Association of America honored Hauser with the Nat Fleischer Award for career excellence in boxing journalism. In 2019, Hauser was selected for boxing’s highest honor – induction into the International Boxing Hall of Fame.

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