Atlas Was Never in Military, But Remains Sternest Drill Instructor in Boxing

Published

10 years ago

September 17, 2015

Teddy Atlas never served in the armed forces of the United States, but the longtime ESPN boxing commentator and occasional trainer always has felt a special affinity for the regimentation that is a major part of a soldier’s life. In many ways Atlas is a drill instructor or commanding officer who brooks no dissent on those occasions when he issues a Staten Island-accented order. Whenever Atlas aligns himself with a fighter, a process which he undertakes now only after painstaking investigation, his first directive is always that it’s his way or the highway.

It was only after such a laborious study of his newest pupil, Timothy Bradley Jr., that Atlas, 59, decided to return to the corner. It probably is no coincidence that Bradley (32-1-1, 12 KOs), who defends his 147-pound strap against Brandon “Bam Bam” Rios (33-2-1, 24 KOs) in the HBO-televised main event on Nov. 7 at the recently renovated Thomas & Mack Center in Las Vegas, has dubbed himself “Desert Storm,” which suggests military precision, attention to detail and coolness under fire.

OK, so the 32-year-old Bradley also never wore a uniform or toted a rifle. His nickname, he says, owes in part to the fact he makes his home in the desert – that would be Palm Springs, Calif. – and in part because of his action-heavy style and respect for those who serve or have served their country with honor and distinction.

The pairing of Atlas and Bradley has the feel of an orderly chain of command that any veteran of the Army, Navy, Marine Corps, Air Force or Coast Guard would recognize. When they begin preparations for the Rios bout, it’s Atlas who will be pulling rank because, well, that’s the way it has to be whenever he becomes involved with a fighter.

“It’s a big responsibility,” Atlas said of taking on a fighter for the first time since he parted ways, acrimoniously, with Alexander Povetkin in January 2012. “That’s the way I’ve always looked at these things. You’ve got somebody’s career – and their life, to an extent – in your hands. They put their trust in you so you got to be sure you can get the job done and done right.

“I spent several days thinking about it (accepting Bradley’s request for Atlas to train him). I went back and forth, going over so many things. It wasn’t an easy decision. It would have been very easy to say no instead of yes. I was hesitant at first, but what I knew about the kid in terms of his character – not only in the ring, but in his personal life – was a factor.

“Actually, my daughter Nicole helped convince me to do this. She also had a part in my deciding to train Povetkin. With Povetkin, I said no several times and he and his people continued to ask. Nicole said, `Why don’t you go to Russia and at least give it a chance? Because that’s who you are, Dad. You’re a really good commentator, but in your heart you’re still a teacher and a trainer.’”

Toward the end, after 2½ years together in which Atlas helped take Povetkin to the WBA “regular” heavyweight title, the fighter began to chafe at some of the trainer’s dictums. Povetkin didn’t want to travel from Russia to the U.S. to train as he been doing, which was a precondition of their working together because of Atlas’ broadcasting commitments to ESPN. Nor did Povetkin agree – or, at least, his manager, Vladimir Hryunov didn’t – with Atlas’ assessment that the still-learning fighter had not progressed enough to accept a title bout with IBF/WBO/WBA/lineal champion Wladimir Klitschko in 2010. Povetkin did wind up challenging Klitschko on Oct. 5, 2013, with Alexander Zimin as his chief second, and he demonstrated that he still wasn’t ready in being easily outpointed by Floyd Mayweathersque margins.

Atlas came away from the experience feeling “betrayed,” but then he had been down that road before and understood that loyalty in boxing is a fragile commodity. One notable example of the friction that is the byproduct of a relationship gone sour is the nasty falling-out in the early 1980s between Atlas and future light heavyweight champion Donny Lalonde.

“He ran things like an Army camp,” Lalonde complained of Atlas’ demanding training methods. Atlas doesn’t dispute that assessment. In fact, he’s rather proud of it. What was that recruiting slogan from a few years ago? Oh, yeah. There’s strong, and there’s Army strong.

“Donny Lalonde is not wrong,” Atlas said. “I do run things like an Army camp. But I will never apologize for doing things the way I did, and still do. And that way served Lalonde damn well. Yeah, I was in charge and there was a reason I was in charge. I was the trainer, and I had the responsibility.

“The strange thing is that Lalonde literally begged me to train him. He came all the way from Canada on his own dime. I told him no. He came to Gleason’s Gym (in Brooklyn, N.Y.) where I was training other fighters and he just pursued me. But I didn’t follow my best instincts, which was that there was something about him I just couldn’t trust.”

Atlas learned his craft during seven years of apprenticeship under the legendary Cus D’Amato in Catskill, N.Y. The pay wasn’t good – actually, nothing – but the education he received from the man who had guided Floyd Patterson and Jose Torres to world championships was so invaluable that maybe a price tag shouldn’t be attached to it.

“I have respect for the sport,” Atlas said. “I spent all that time learning my craft and making no money with Cus. I don’t regret spending those seven years in the gym. You lock yourself away, if you will, to make that commitment and that sacrifice.”

But although Atlas loved D’Amato almost like another father, he began to see another side to the old man after a teenaged Mike Tyson showed up, renewing Cus’ dream of having another heavyweight champion. A petulant Tyson acted out at times, but wasn’t reprimanded for it. Atlas, primarily responsible for training the young slugger, personally barred him from participating in an upcoming amateur tournament by way of punishment, then was stunned to see Tyson walk through the door anyway, with D’Amato’s approval. Atlas’ authority in the gym had been undercut, and he was left with the realization that there is no such thing as a trainer’s absolute control, unless both parties mutually consent to such an arrangement and stick to it no matter what.

Other fighters have drifted in and out of Atlas’ life, more often adhering to his mandates for only so long until they came to the conclusion that they were the bosses, not the ones to be bossed around. And any proposed changes in the relationship, Atlas made it clear, were non-negotiable.

“Before I had that safety net of the commentating, which I’ve had for 18 years, I felt that way to an extent,” he said of the pressure some trainers feel to stick with recalcitrant fighters who provide their primary or sole source of income. “I might have to think about something two or more times before I said no.”

Perhaps the most memorable example of Atlas at his prickly best was the night that Michael Moorer was in the process of dethroning IBF/WBA heavyweight champion Evander Holyfield on April 22, 1994, in Las Vegas. Moorer was winning, all right, but not following Atlas’ instructions to the letter.

“I just sat on the stool and said, `You don’t want to fight. You don’t want to win this damn thing, so I’ll fight,’” Atlas said at the time. “Get outside, give me the water and I’ll take your place.’ And I made him say to me that he wanted to fight before I would get up. I said, `You don’t want to fight.’ He said, `No, I do.’ Thank God.”

So what was it about Bradley, who recently parted ways with his longtime trainer, Joel Diaz, that swayed Atlas into again slipping into the trainer’s role he has been so reluctant to assume?

“He was a guest on my radio show (on Sirius XM) a couple of months ago,” Atlas recalled. “It was right after his fight with (Jessie) Vargas. There was a controversial ending to that fight in that (Bradley) got nailed and hurt by a really big right hand with about 30 seconds left in the last round. With Vargas going after him, the referee, Pat Russell, erroneously stopped the fight. He heard the 10-second clapper and he thought it was the bell. Everybody – including Vargas and Bradley – that the fight had been stopped and Vargas had won. Vargas even started celebrating.

“We talked about whether Bradley could have survived another 10 seconds, and being the gladiator he is, he said he could have. And then I asked him a question: `Do you know why you got hurt?’ He said, `Well, I got hit with a right hand, Teddy.’ I said, `Of course, but do you know WHY?’ He said, `No, Would you tell me?’

“I told him he had his left hand low, but he had a James Toney-type shoulder roll before he went to throw his own right hand. The problem was he did it a little prematurely sometimes before he got Vargas’ right hand out of the way. Basically, Timmy was telegraphing that his own right hand was coming. It gave Vargas a clear runway to catch him when his left hand was down.”

Bradley went back home to Palm Springs, studied the tape of the fight, spotted the problem and wondered why no one else had detected it. Not long after that, he called Atlas to ask if he would consider becoming his new chief second.

Burned in the past, Atlas was unsure whether he wanted to expose himself to another flame of disappointment.

“It’s become very easy for me to say no, especially after what happened with Povetkin,” Atlas said. “It would have been easy to say no again. But I was going out to California anyway, to do the PBC on ESPN fight between (Abner) Mares and (Leo) Santa Cruz. I spent two days after that fight with Bradley. I broke down tape of his fights with Vargas and (Ruslan) Provodnikov like I would for ESPN viewers. I pointed out some things to him that he hadn’t realized.

“I went home and spent several more days thinking about it. I went back and forth on so many things. I talked to my family again. Then I called Timmy up and said, `OK.’”

But it wasn’t the 32-year-old Bradley’s star status or potential for improvement that was the deciding factor for Atlas. He’s turned down other talented fighters without so much as a second thought. There was something about Bradley, though, that resonated.

“You are who you are,” Atlas said. “And what you are as a fighter is connected to who you are as a person, and that goes to your background, you past, your upbringing. I liked the way Timmy carried himself, with respect and a certain quiet toughness. He had a standard of conduct that was obvious and, quite frankly, you see less and less in society today.”

Bradley, the father of three children with his manager-wife, Monica, and the stepfather of two of her kids from a previous marriage, understands that he and Atlas share a bond that at least partly transcends boxing.

“Teddy don’t have a million fighters. Teddy was retired,” Bradley noted. “I told him, `Hey, man, you can’t hide all that knowledge. You got to pass it on.

“The reason why Teddy is doing this is because of the person that I am. I’m a family guy; he’s the same way. He’s also a guy with a high boxing IQ. He hasn’t trained fighters in years, but he’s trained some of the best in the world.

“He has the time. He’s going to work it out with his schedule. I’m his only fighter. It’s a great fit, man. I can learn a lot from Teddy.”

So it’s back to boot camp for Atlas, whose military experience, such as it is, has been limited to occasionally working with the West Point boxing team and his friendship with two-time Super Bowl winning coach Bill Parcells, who was an assistant at Army and the head coach at the Air Force Academy before moving on to the NFL.

“Someone told me that when Parcells left the Giants and Ray Handley took over, some of the players were asked at training camp what the difference between them was,” Atlas said. “They said, `Oh, it’s much better now, much nicer, much easier, much more player-friendly. Handley is not a dictator like Parcells was.’ It was very similar to what Lalonde said about me.

“Yeah, it was much better until the season started and they weren’t winning. Then those guys found out it wasn’t better. It was misery and a disaster.”

So what happens the next time a fighter in need of a make-over seeks out Atlas? Is there training life for him beyond Timothy Bradley Jr.?

“I saw how Timmy was in his house, as a husband and father,” Atlas said. “I saw what’s important to him, and to me. I decided if I was going to come back and train, it was going to be for a person like this.

“Timmy said, `Anything you ask me to do, I’ll do.’ I could tell it wasn’t just lip service. I think I’m pretty good at being able to read people. Lalonde told me some of the same things, but I didn’t follow my best instincts then, which was that there was something about him that I just shouldn’t trust.

“My experience with him affected me. I said to myself, `The next time someone comes to me unsolicited, I’m going to pay more attention to my instincts. So here we are, 30 years later. When Timmy told me he’d do what I told him to do, no questions asked, I believed it. There is a truthfulness to him. It’s kind of refreshing, really.”

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Bernard Fernandez

“Breadman” Edwards: An Unlikely Boxing Coach with a Panoramic View of the Sport

Published

3 hours ago

May 8, 2025

Arne K. Lang

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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 38^th 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

Published

2 days ago

May 6, 2025

Arne K. Lang

Arne's-Almanac-The-Good-the-Bad-and-the-(mostly)-Ugly-A-Weeend-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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Bombs Away in Las Vegas where Inoue and Espinoza Scored Smashing Triumphs

Published

4 days ago

May 4, 2025

David A. Avila

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Japan’s Naoya “Monster” Inoue banged it out with Mexico’s Ramon Cardenas, survived an early knockdown and pounded out a stoppage win to retain the undisputed super bantamweight world championship on Sunday.

Japan and Mexico delivered for boxing fans again after American stars failed in back-to-back days.

“By watching tonight’s fight, everyone is well aware that I like to brawl,” Inoue said.

Inoue (30-0, 27 KOs), and Cardenas (26-2, 14 KOs) and his wicked left hook, showed the world and 8,474 fans at T-Mobile Arena in Las Vegas that prizefighting is about punching, not running.

After massive exposure for three days of fights that began in New York City, then moved to Riyadh, Saudi Arabia and then to Nevada, it was the casino capital of the world that delivered what most boxing fans appreciate- pure unadulterated action fights.

Monster Inoue immediately went to work as soon as the opening bell rang with a consistent attack on Cardenas, who very few people knew anything about.

One thing promised by Cardenas’ trainer Joel Diaz was that his fighter “can crack.”

Cardenas proved his trainer’s words truthful when he caught Inoue after a short violent exchange with a short left hook and down went the Japanese champion on his back. The crowd was shocked to its toes.

“I was very surprised,” said Inoue about getting dropped. ““In the first round, I felt I had good distance. It got loose in the second round. From then on, I made sure to not take that punch again.”

Inoue had no trouble getting up, but he did have trouble avoiding some of Cardenas massive blows delivered with evil intentions. Though Inoue did not go down again, a look of total astonishment blanketed his face.

A real fight was happening.

Cardenas, who resembles actor Andy Garcia, was never overly aggressive but kept that left hook of his cocked and ready to launch whenever he saw the moment. There were many moments against the hyper-aggressive Inoue.

Both fighters pack power and both looked to find the right moment. But after Inoue was knocked down by the left hook counter, he discovered a way to eliminate that weapon from Cardenas. Still, the Texas-based fighter had a strong right too.

In the sixth round Inoue opened up with one of his lightning combinations responsible for 10 consecutive knockout wins. Cardenas backed against the ropes and Inoue blasted away with blow after blow. Then suddenly, Cardenas turned Inoue around and had him on the ropes as the Mexican fighter unloaded nasty combinations to the body and head. Fans roared their approval.

“I dreamed about fighting in front of thousands of people in Las Vegas,” said Cardenas. “So, I came to give everything.”

Inoue looked a little surprised and had a slight Mona Lisa grin across his face. In the seventh round, the Japanese four-division world champion seemed ready to attack again full force and launched into the round guns blazing. Cardenas tried to catch Inoue again with counter left hooks but Inoue’s combos rained like deadly hail. Four consecutive rights by Inoue blasted Cardenas almost through the ropes. The referee Tom Taylor ruled it a knockdown. Cardenas beat the count and survived the round.

In the eighth round Inoue looked eager to attack and at the bell launched across the ring and unloaded more blows on Cardenas. A barrage of 14 unanswered blows forced the referee to stop the fight at 45 seconds of round eight for a technical knockout win.

“I knew he was tough,” said Inoue. “Boxing is not that easy.”

Espinoza Wins

WBO featherweight titlist Rafael Espinosa (27-0, 23 KOs) uppercut his way to a knockout win over Edward Vazquez (17-3, 4 KOs) in the seventh round.

“I wanted to fight a game fighter to show what I am capable,” said Espinoza.

Espinosa used the leverage of his six-foot, one-inch height to slice uppercuts under the guard of Vazquez. And when the tall Mexican from Guadalajara targeted the body, it was then that the Texas fighter began to wilt. But he never surrendered.

Though he connected against Espinoza in every round, he was not able to slow down the taller fighter and that allowed the Mexican fighter to unleash a 10-punch barrage including four consecutive uppercuts. The referee stopped the fight at 1:47 of the seventh round.

It was Espinoza’s third title defense.

Photo credit: Mikey Williams / Top Rank

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