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Anthony Joshua vs. NYC
If you were among those hurrying along Madison Avenue on Saturday afternoon, you might have seen him. He was laid out on the sidewalk under a propped sign, his head on a backpack. He was wearing one of those skinny suits that glint in the sunlight, the ones you usually see in threes on young professionals en route to a collaborative meeting or to entertain some client. This guy was one of them. He should have been up and at it, laughing with colleagues, sneaking looks at passing reflections. Something happened to him. His shoes were missing. Something happened and then something snapped and left him melting into the sidewalk, barefoot, his eyes closed as if to shut the world out. Madison Avenue gave him no more than a glance.
New York, New York, big city of dreams is also a destroyer. It got to a giant Saturday night. It got to him good.
Anthony Joshua was considering Frank Sinatra’s “The Theme from New York, New York” for his ring walk, which would have been the height of irony after that “if” in “if I can make it there” proved bigger than any billboard in Times Square. As it was, his supporters at the weigh-in had too much taste for one thing and not enough for another and shouted down Sinatra in favor of Neil Diamond. So while Joshua was in the dressing room at Madison Square Garden switching out of one groin protector and into another, the rest of us were subjected to a six-thousand-strong sing-along by beer-swilling Brits. “Sweet Caroline” never sounded so bad, so bad.
It was always a mistake to snub Sinatra. In 1969, Jimmy Roselli was a star. He was selling out the Copacabana and television was starting to notice. Then he turned down a request to sing at a charity chaired by Sinatra’s mother. A call was made and the next thing Roselli knew, he couldn’t get a gig or a record deal to save his life. He ended up selling his records out of his trunk on Mulberry Street and driving a delivery truck for Drake’s Coffee Cakes. You didn’t snub Sinatra. It might be worse to snub Sinatra’s ghost.
New York, New York got to Joshua early. Just before making his way to the ring, he hesitated and turned around to take a long swig of water, swishing it around as if he had dry mouth. When he climbed through the ropes and stood under the big lights he seemed to shrink. He was wide-eyed, looking around, chewing on his mouthpiece. He threw a couple of haphazard uppercuts. He took a deep breath. “That’s nerves,” someone said to no one in particular. One of his seconds placed one hand on the top of his head and massaged his neck with the other.
“Six feet six and weighing in officially at two-hundred forty-seven point eight pounds . . . from London England, the fighting pride of the United Kingdom; the reigning, defending, undefeated heavyweight champion of the world . . .” Joshua’s American debut was announced with all the ballyhoo befitting a monolith or a mythical hero. “Nice and relaxed Josh,” his cutman said as he lifted the water bottle to the hero’s lips. “You need a drink?”
Andy Ruiz Jr. walked to the ring wearing a gold and white robe. His pudgy face was a mask of innocence peering out from under a fur-lined hood that recalled those winter jackets kids wore in the 1970s. His goatee was the only indication that he’s old enough to drink. Unlike Joshua, Ruiz wasn’t announced so much as introduced as a personable fellow we should like to get to know. He’s from Imperial, California. He’s fighting for his Mexican heritage. There was a warning there, in that Mexican heritage. It was hidden under drapes of flab and random abscesses and stretch marks. Joshua, already over his head in another battle, couldn’t see the iron; the ethnic pride and unconquerable self-belief.
When the two moved into each other in the first round, it looked like a comedy sketch. Ruiz’s trunks didn’t quite make it over his belly button and he stood no higher than Joshua’s collarbone. Every time he moved, something jiggled. But he was moving fast, shooting jabs at Joshua’s sternum, dipping under big rights. Joshua’s mouth was soon hanging open. The big city was beating him. Ruiz was getting to him too.
In the second round, the 20-to-1 underdog stunned him with an overhand right and his leg jerked out behind him. He was too distracted to adjust to what was happening. Ruiz was disguising his counterattacks with jabs and forays from the perimeter and by punching with him. When caught, Ruiz came storming back with combinations that told of his own dreams. And he wasn’t intimidated by the godlike dimensions in front of him or honking and roaring outside. He wanted to be king of the hill, A-number-one, and this was how to do it. This is where to do it.
In the third round, Joshua landed an uppercut that would have decapitated a middleweight and followed it with a left hook. Ruiz went down. As he was going down, he never took his eyes off Joshua. “I had to get him back,” he said at the post-fight press conference. Scant seconds later Ruiz was up and barreling forward, his dreams barely dented. Joshua landed a right blast and Ruiz surged at him with a left hook and a winging right, then dipped under the incoming counter right and countered that with a left hook. It caught the giant on the temple and triggered the long descent into what was as self-conscious a knockdown as you’ll ever see. Joshua was smiling, embarrassed, but his legs, already shaky, could barely get him upright. Before the end of the round, Ruiz reversed the combination and sent him down again.
The end came in the seventh. Joshua, down for the fourth time in the fight and the second time in the round, got up and lurched from mid-ring to his corner. He could no longer feel his legs and needed support. He needed a drink. He spread his great arms on the top rope and leaned back just as he had during the introductions, a seemingly casual position that’s anything but. The referee saw his exhaustion and ended the fight.
—Ended the fights. Joshua went 0-2 Saturday night.
A panoramic scan of the crowd revealed jubilation and shock; hands aloft, over mouths, clutching hair, clenched at temples, high-fiving. Ruiz was at the center of it all, celebrating with shameless abandon. It was a joy to see; the fat kid we all knew in school (and some of us were) had bopped his way to the top of the heap. Joshua too was caught up in the moment. He took a giant’s step outside of his own ego and smiled down at his unexpected conqueror. Then he embraced him like a friend and a brother. “He is genuinely over the moon for Andy Ruiz,” said Eddie Hearn, “but he’ll be absolutely devastated when this kicks in.”
Will he leave his shoes at Madison Square Garden and melt away on Madison Ave? Not a chance. He’ll make a brand new start of it, in old York or thereabouts.
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Avila Perspective, Chap. 303: Spotlights on Lightweights and More
Those lightweights.
Whether junior lights, super lights or lightweights, it’s the 130-140 divisions where most of boxing’s young stars are found now or in the past.
Think Oscar De La Hoya, Sugar Shane Mosley and Floyd Mayweather.
Floyd Schofield (17-0, 12 KOs) a Texas product, hungers to be a star and takes on Mexico’s Rene Tellez Giron (20-3, 13 KOs) in a 12-round lightweight bout on Saturday, Nov. 2, at the Virgin Hotels Las Vegas in Las Vegas, Nevada.
DAZN will stream the Golden Boy Promotion card that includes a female undisputed flyweight championship match pitting Argentina’s Gabriela Alaniz and Gabriela Fundora.
Like a young lion looking to flex, Schofield (pictured on the left) is eager to meet all the other young lions and prove they’re not equal.
“I’ve been in the room with Shakur, Tank. I want to give everyone a good fight. I feel like my preparation is getting better, I work hard, I’ve dedicated my whole life to this sport,” said Schofield naming fellow lightweights Shakur Stevenson and Gervonta “Tank” Davis.
Now he meets Mexico’s Tellez who has never been stopped.
“I’m willing to do whatever it takes,” said Tellez.
Even in Las Vegas.
Verona, New York
Meanwhile, in upstate New York, a WBC junior lightweight title rematch finds Robson Conceicao (19-2-1, 9 KOs) looking to prove superior to former titlist O’Shaquie Foster (22-3, 12 KOs) on Saturday, Nov. 2, at the Turning Stone Resort and Casino in Verona, N.Y. ESPN+ will stream the Top Rank fight card.
Last July, Conceicao and Foster clashed and after 12 rounds the title changed hands from Foster to the Brazilian by split decision.
“I feel that a champion is a fighter who goes out there and doesn’t run around, who looks for the fight, who tries to win, and doesn’t just throw one or two punches and then moves away,” said Conceicao.
Foster disagrees.
“I hope he knows the name of the game is to hit and not get hit. That’s the name of the game,” said Foster.
Also on the same card is lightweight contender Raymond Muratalla (21-0, 16 KOs) who fights Mexico’s Jesus Perez Campos (25-5, 18 KOs).
Perez recently defeated former world champion Jojo Diaz last February in California.
“We’re made for challenges. I like challenges,” said Perez.
Muratalla likes challenges too.
“I think these fights are the types of fights I need to show my skills and to prove I deserve those title fights,” said Fontana’s Muratalla.
Female Undisputed Flyweight Championship
WBA, WBC and WBO flyweight titlist Gabriela “La Chucky” Alaniz (15-1, 6 KOs meets IBF titlist Gabriela Fundora (14-0, 6 KOs) on Saturday Nov. 2, at the Virgin Hotels Las Vegas in Las Vegas, Nevada. DAZN will stream the clash for the undisputed flyweight championship.
Argentina’s Alaniz clashed twice against former WBA, WBC champ Marlen Esparza with their first encounter ending in a dubious win for the Texas fighter. In fact, three of Esparza’s last title fights were scored controversially.
But against Alaniz, though they fought on equal terms, Esparza was given a 99-91 score by one of the judges though the world saw a much closer contest. So, they fought again, but the rematch took place in California. Two judges deemed Alaniz the winner and one Esparza for a split-decision win.
“I’m really happy to be here representing Argentina. We are ready to fight. Nothing about this fight has to do with Marlen. So, I hope she (Fundora) is ready. I am ready to prepare myself for the great fight of my life,” said Alaniz.
In the case of Fundora, the extremely tall American fighter at 5’9” in height defeated decent competition including Maria Santizo. She was awarded a match with IBF flyweight titlist Arely Mucino who opted for the tall youngster over the dangerous Kenia Enriquez of Mexico.
Bad choice for Mucino.
Fundora pummeled the champion incessantly for five rounds at the Inglewood Forum a year ago. Twice she battered her down and the fight was mercifully stopped. Fundora’s arm was raised as the new champion.
Since that win Fundora has defeated Christina Cruz and Chile’s Daniela Asenjo in defense of the IBF title. In an interesting side bit: Asenjo was ranked as a flyweight contender though she had not fought in that weight class for seven years.
Still, Fundora used her reach and power to easily handle the rugged fighter from Chile.
Immediately after the fight she clamored for a chance to become undisputed.
“It doesn’t get better than this, especially being in Las Vegas. This is the greatest opportunity that we can have,” said Fundora.
It should be exciting.
Fights to Watch
Sat. ESPN+ 2:50 p.m. Robson Conceicao (19-2-1) vs O’Shaquie Foster (22-3).
Sat. DAZN 5 p.m. Floyd Schofield (17-0) vs Rene Tellez Giron (20-3); Gabriela Alaniz (15-1) vs Gabriela Fundora (14-0).
Photo credit: Cris Esqueda / Golden Boy
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Bakhram Murtalaziev was the Fighter of the Month in October
As we close the book on October, let’s look back at the month’s stellar performances. Kenshiro Teraji added another exclamation point to his brilliant career with an 11th-round stoppage of Cristofer Rosales. England’s Jack Catterall, considered no more than a decent domestic-level talent for most of his career, showed that he had been underrated with a comprehensive 12-round decision over declining Regis Prograis. But the top performance, by a landslide, was delivered by Bakhram Murtalaziev who annihilated Tim Tszyu on Oct. 19 in Orlando, Florida.
Murtalaziev was undefeated (22-0, 16 KOs) and the reigning IBF junior middleweight champion, but he was the underdog and the “B” side. As champions go, and there are roughly five dozen across the 17 weight divisions, the California-based Russian ranked among the least well-known. He had won his title in Berlin with an 11th-round stoppage of an unexceptional 38-year-old German-Ecuadorian campaigner, Jack Culcay, and he would be making his first defense.
Managed by Egis Klimas who also handles Oleksandr Usyk and Vasiliy Lomachenko, among others, Bakhram Murtalaziev came from a good barn in the vernacular of a horseplayer, but on paper that alone was insufficient to get him over the hump against Tim Tszyu who a few short months earlier was widely considered the best 154-pound boxer in the world.
That was before he met up with Sebastian Fundora who blemished his record, but that setback could have been written off as a fluke.
As we recall, Tszyu was scheduled to fight Keith Thurman in the initial PBC offering on Amazon Prime Video, but Thurman suffered a biceps injury in training and Fundora was bumped up from the undercard to fill the breach. With only 12 days’ notice, Tim Tszyu went from fighting a five-foot-seven fighter who fights out of an orthodox stance to fighting a southpaw who stood almost a full foot taller. The “Towering Inferno” has his limitations, but poses a special problem to anyone, let alone an opponent with little time to formulate a good game plan.
Tszyu was hampered in the Fundora fight by a gash on his hairline that hampered his vision. The injury happened in the second round when he ducked under Fundora and walked into an elbow. The gash bled copiously throughout the fight and yet the best that Fundora could do was win a split (albeit fair) decision.
To say that Tszyu failed to rebound from the Fundora misadventure would be putting it mildly. Murtalaziev steamrolled him, knocking him to the canvas four times in all before Tszyu’s corner tossed in the towel at the 1:55 mark of the third stanza. It was painful to watch. Referee Chris Young was faulted for allowing the match to continue as long as it did. Compounding Tszyu’s misery, his celebrated father, a first ballot Hall of Famer, was ringside. Kostya Tszyu hadn’t seen his oldest son fight in the flesh since Tim’s pro debut in 2016.
Although the dichotomy is imperfect, Tim Tszyu, who turns 30 on Saturday, is more of a puncher than a boxer. That may work against him so far as clawing his way back to a position of prominence. The noted boxing coach Stephen “Breadman” Edwards, a keen student of the history of boxing in the modern era, expressed this sentiment in a Q and A story for Boxing Scene. “Destructive fighters usually don’t come back to full capacity after bad KO losses,” he said, citing John Mugabi, Mike Tyson, George Foreman, Sonny Liston, and Naseem Hamed to illustrate his point. Moreover, added Edwards, “No one will ever be afraid of him again.”
But there were two stories that emerged from the Murtalaziev-Tszyu fight. Tim Tszyu crashed, but Bakhram Murtalaziev emerged from obscurity, announcing his presence (pardon the cliché) as a force to be reckoned with. As for his next assignment, the best guess is that it will come against Sebastian Fundora or Errol Spence Jr. who are expected to meet early next year. And based on Murtalaziev’s stunning performance in Orlando, it will be impossible to bet against him.
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Foreman-Moorer: 30 Years Later
Foreman-Moorer: 30 Years Later
By TSS SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT JAMIE REBNER — In sports, middle-aged athletes are not supposed to beat opponents who are half their age and in their athletic primes. Only the greatest ones can use guile, technique, and experience to compensate for the dulling of speed, reflexes, and athleticism that have unavoidably eroded with time.
That is why George Foreman’s feat of reclaiming the heavyweight title at 45 is so impressive. It was thirty years ago this coming Tuesday, Nov 5, 1994, that Foreman scored a monumental upset in knocking out Michael Moorer to win back the title he had lost twenty years prior against Muhammad Ali in The Rumble in the Jungle. In doing so, Big George became the oldest heavyweight champion, breaking the record previously held by Jersey Joe Walcott, who had won the title at 38.
When Foreman beat Moorer, he was in the twilight of his second career, a comeback that began in 1987. George had retired in 1977 after losing to Jimmy Young and experiencing a spiritual awakening in his locker room. That led him to become a minister and devote himself to his family and congregation. During his retirement, he opened a youth center in Houston, which required much financial support, prompting him to return to the ring.
After winning 24 straight fights from 1987-1990, Foreman lost his first title shot by decision to Evander Holyfield in 1991. He rebounded from that loss with three more wins before getting a crack at the WBO title against Tommy Morrison in 1993. But his performance against Morrison was disappointing and he lost another decision. After that, Foreman was out of the ring for 17 months before he was gifted another title shot against Moorer.
Foreman got that gift because Moorer, due to his sullen demeanor and curtness with the media, was not a draw with the fans. He was also an unproven champion, having beaten Holyfield for two belts only seven months prior. So. Moorer needed a name opponent who could bring in the crowds for his first title defense. And the other top heavyweights like Oliver McCall (WBC champ), Lennox Lewis, and Riddick Bowe didn’t have close to Foreman’s drawing power. So. deserving or not, Foreman was chosen as the challenger to make a fight that would be worth the public’s attention and pockets.
Even Foreman was surprised by getting selected to fight Moorer. “I never in my wildest imagination thought I’d get a title shot again,” he told Associated Press sports columnist Tim Dahlberg. Still, George was determined to make his third time a charm.
But as motivated as George was, there was an irrefutable gap in speed between himself and the much younger champion. From the opening bell, Moorer used his superior quickness and reflexes to make Foreman look stiff and slow. And although George landed punches early on, he fired them one at a time while Moorer countered with multiple shots. But despite Moorer’s advantage in connects, his trainer Teddy Atlas advised him from the get-go not to stand in front of Foreman and make himself a stationary target for a right-hand bomb.
But Moorer failed to heed that advice as he continued to outwork Foreman in the middle rounds. Although he was winning, Moorer’s overconfidence kept him at close quarters, and he continued to circle unwisely to his left and into Foreman’s dangerous right hand. And despite absorbing many quality shots, Foreman never appeared hurt or discouraged thanks to his granite chin and unyielding resolve. He was determined to win and he was willing to walk through as many flush shots as he needed to do so.
With Moorer content to stay in range, Foreman gladly returned his firepower and he landed some telling right crosses, uppercuts, and plenty of thudding body blows during the battle. And while Moorer continued to pile up points and rounds, as long as George was marching forward and throwing shots, he had a puncher’s chance.
And with a minute to go in round ten, that punch came. After missing a three-punch combination, Foreman scored with a one-two, with the right hand landing on the forehead. He immediately repeated that combination but this time aimed the right hand lower on Moorer’s jaw. That slight adjustment caused his bulldozer right to collide perfectly with Moorer’s chin, sending the champion crashing to the canvas and sprawled onto his back. The champion couldn’t beat the count, and just like that, the fight was over, Moorer’s short-lived title run ending before it ever truly began.
With a single, shattering blow, Foreman etched his name into boxing history. Wearing the same trunks from Zaire 20 years before, he was now heavyweight champion of the world once again. It was a shocking result that defied conventional wisdom since seldom do 45-year-old boxers score knockouts over champions in their athletic primes. But Foreman reminded us that he was anything but your typical quadragenarian. He was special, and he had two distinct heavyweight championship reigns to prove it.
—
About the author:
Jamie Rebner lives in Toronto, Canada. He has been a freelance boxing writer since 2016 and his writing has appeared in The Fight City, Boxing News Online, The Ring, and Ringside Seat magazine. His Substack blog is Fight Fundamental, and he is currently writing a book about George Foreman’s comeback. He is also a member of the Boxing Writers Association of America. Follow him on Twitter @J_NReb.
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