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The Hauser Report: Wilder – Fury II in Perspective

On Saturday night, February 22, at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas, Tyson Fury knocked out Deontay Wilder in round seven of a rematch of their December 1, 2018, draw. With Anthony Joshua having faltered as a fighter since his comeback victory over Wladimir Klitschko three years ago, the consensus is that Fury is now the #1 heavyweight in the world.
Wilder-Fury II shaped up from the start as an intriguing drama. Fury has a fighter’s name (first and last). “Deontay” sounds like a fashion designer’s moniker. But don’t be misled. Wilder has an aura of menace about him. In the ring, he evokes images of a deadly raptor ripping its prey to shreds with a single strike.
Fury has an erratic persona. By his own admission, he has struggled with severe depression for most of his life. On November 28, 2015, he decisioned Wladimir Klitschko to claim the WBA, IBF, and WBO belts. Then he began spouting homophobic, misogynist, anti-Semitic dogma before abandoning boxing to deal with his emotional problems.
“Part of the attraction with Fury,” British journalist Ron Lewis writes, “has always been, you genuinely donât know what he is going to say. Sometimes he will just make stuff up. In the modern boxing media where video journalists generally outnumber writers, the soundbite is king. Soundbites are rolled out and the outlandish remarks are gobbled up as good material. And Fury gives good soundbites. Whether they are true or not doesnât really matter. What counts is that people click.”
Fury returned to the ring in 2018 after a thirty-month absence and notched lackluster victories over Sefer Seferi and Francesco Pianeta. On December 1, 2018, he survived ninth and twelfth-round knockdowns en route to a draw against Wilder. Less-than-impressive triumphs over Tom Schwarz and Otto Wallin followed.
In his most recent ring appearance, Tyson journeyed to Saudi Arabia for an October 31, 2019, staged wrestling spectacle that pitted him against WWE strongman Braun Strowman.
Fury has good boxing skills for a man his size. He stands close to 6-feet-9-inches tall and fights in the neighborhood of a non-svelt 260 pounds. There’s a lot of jiggling when he moves around the canvas. At age 31, he entered the ring for Wilder-Fury II as an undefeated professional boxer with 29 wins, 20 knockouts, and a draw in 30 fights.
Wilder captured a bronze medal at the 2008 Olympics as a raw 23-year-old. Seven years later, he annexed the WBC heavyweight title by decision over Bermane Stiverne. Since then, he has successfully defended his belt ten times against mostly pedestrian opposition. His most credible opponents were Luis Ortiz (twice) and Fury.
Deontay has made some good life choices and also some bad ones. There have been incidents of violence outside the ring and public utterances that made him look and sound like a bully. There’s a nagging feeling that he unwisely left a lot of money on table and lost an opportunity to consolidate all four heavyweight championship belts when he blew off a three-fight $100 million offer from DAZN last year.
That said; Wilder can punch. Bigtime. Entering the ring on February 22, he had 40 knockout victories in 42 fights, with only Fury and Stiverne having gone the distance against him. And Stiverne was obliterated on a first-round knockout when they met in the ring for the second time.
As writer Carlos Acevedo noted, “There is no softening-up process necessary for Wilder to demolish an opponent. Cumulative damage is not a prerequisite. He picks his high-spots (moments when he fully commits to his bludgeonous right hand) with care, and few can withstand its direct impact.”
Fighters are associated with certain phrases . . . Joe Louis: “He can run but he can’t hide” . . . Mike Tyson: “They all have a plan until they get hit” . . .
Wilder sums up nicely when he says of each opponent, “He has to be perfect for twelve rounds. I have to be perfect for two seconds.”
Let’s say it again. Wilder can punch. His right hand is devastating. And not only isn’t he afraid to throw it; his entire fight plan (at the risk of losing round after round on the judges’ scorecards) is about trying to land it. His conventional boxing skills are limited. His chin is suspect, but he has learned to use his height and reach to protect it. Give him time to set up and proceed at his leisure, and he will destroy you.
Moreover, Wilder carries his power late. As Fury found out in round twelve of their first encounter, Deontay is dangerous until the final bell.
“This is a gladiator sport,” Wilder says. “It ainât no room for weakness in this sport, especially when youâre a champion because youâll always be a target. Youâre always gonna have a bullseye on your back. So youâve gotta have a mentality like that. Itâs good to be nice and kind and shit like that. But when it comes to boxing, you canât show no weakness. Youâve gotta show that youâre a savage, that you ainât nothing to be messed with, and thatâs what I show. Put fear in these guysâ hearts and really mean it. When you fight Deontay Wilder, I take something from you. I take years from your life.”
As for Fury’s psychiatric issues, Wilder acknowledged, “We all have mental problems. Ainât nobody one hundred percent. Iâm crazy at times. I go do things at times. I been had a gun in my hand before thinking about committing suicide. I mean, shit. It ain’t no different. I can be a role model, but you have to accept me and embrace me for who I am. I may say some crazy stuff. I may make up my own words at times. Iâm human. I donât walk a straight path and a lot of things may go wrong in my life and itâs going to be up to me to correct them. I just tell people to accept me for who I am. I am who I am. Iâm not perfect.”
For a while, Wilder was skeptical that the rematch would take place.
“Fury doesn’t want to fight me again,” Deontay said. “He’s satisfied with the draw and he wants to run with a moral victory.” That was followed by reference to Fury rising from the canvas after what initially seemed to be a fight-ending knockout: “I knocked some marbles out his head. When a man doesn’t know how he got knocked onto the ground or how he got up, that ain’t no good sign. His family don’t even want him to fight me again. He don’t want to either, but he’s got to.”
In due course, the rematch was signed with the two sides agreeing to a 50-50 revenue split.
It would be Wilder (backed by Premier Boxing Champions and FOX) versus Fury (in league with Top Rank and ESPN). Thereafter, Top Rank CEO Bob Arum predicted that Wilder-Fury II would engender two million pay-per-view buys. That left a lot of observers willing to bet the “under,” since Wilder-Fury I was generously estimated to have generated 325,000.
In truth, neither Fury or Wilder had sold well to the public in the past.
Wilder had headlined two previous fight cards in Las Vegas. According to numbers released by the Nevada State Athletic Commission, 4,074 tickets resulting in a live gate of $755,200 were sold for his 2015 outing against Bermane Stiverne. Deontay’s 2019 rematch against Luis Ortiz generated a live gate of $4,063,141 on 7,403 tickets sold. Depending on whom one believes, Wilder-Ortiz II (which was distributed on pay-per-view by Fox) engendered between 225,000 and 275,000 buys. Since FOX is reported to have guaranteed 500,000 buys for Wilder-Ortiz II, that translated into a lot of red ink.
Meanwhile, the live gate for Fury-Schwarz at the MGM Grand was $882,145 with 5,489 tickets sold. The live gate for Fury-Wallin at T-Mobile Arena was $999,723 with 3,577 tickets purchased. There were more comps (3,898) for Fury-Wallin than tickets sold.
To state the obvious, these are not good numbers. But ESPN and FOX (which jointly handled the pay-per-view for Wilder-Fury II) went all-in on promotion of the rematch.
FOX is available in 120 million American homes. ESPN has 83 million domestic subscribers. ESPN put the promotion into high gear on December 28 when Fury appeared on its College Gameday program prior to the Bowl Championship Series semi-final football game between LSU and Oklahoma. Then, on February 2, FOX broadcast two Wilder-Fury II commercials during Super Bowl LIV. According to Nielsen Media Research, the first Super Bowl promo (which ran at 8:02 PM eastern time) was seen by 103.5 million viewers. The second (which aired 35 minutes later) drew 101.1 million. There were also seven pre-game promotional spots that averaged 18 million viewers each.
Given the fact that in-game Super Bowl commercials normally cost advertisers as much as $10 million a minute, this marked a significant investment by FOX in the promotion.
The lead-up to Wilder-Fury II was marked (and sometimes marred) by back-and-forth utterances between the fighters.
Fury did his part to debase the public dialogue during a media scrum immediately after the January 13 kick-off press conference in Los Angeles. Discussing his preparation for the rematch, he declared, “I’m masturbating seven times a day to keep my testosterone pumping. Pump it, pump it, pump it, pump it up! Don’tcha know! I gotta to keep active and the testosterone flowing for the fight.”
Later, Tyson declared, âI look at Wilder and I donât see a tough fight. I see a long-legged pussy that Iâm going to break in. A big 6-foot-7-inch virgin that ainât been rodded before. Iâm going to bend him over and scuttle him backwards nice and slowly.”
Fury further pledged, âAfter this fight, Iâm going to binge on cocaine and hookers. Is there anything better than cocaine and hookers? I go to the cheap thirty-dollar ones. Always give yourself a shot of penicillin before shagging âem. If you haven’t got the penicillin, always double-bag up.â
Wilder responded more simply, saying, “This is unfinished business that I will finish. Come February 22, I’m going to rip his head off his body. The first fight was a very controversial fight. We left people confused about who won. This is where we come and settle everything. This is judgment day.”
When fight week arrived, the hype machine went into overdrive, proclaiming that Wilder-Fury II was one of the most anticipated heavyweight championship matches of all time. There was a massive amount of network shoulder programming including extensive on-site coverage from February 18 until fight night.
ESPN and FOX, which talk breathlessly about “unified titles” when match-ups like Vasyl Lomachenko vs. Jose Pedraza occur, suddenly forgot that the WBA, WBO, and IBF (each of which recognizes Anthony Joshua as its heavyweight champion) exist. Also forgotten was the fact that, in Wilder-Fury I, the fighters had landed a total of only 155 punches between them. That’s six punches per fighter per round.
No matter. The twelfth-round knockdown and Fury getting up from it had elevated Wilder-Fury II as a commercial attraction. The fight sparked high interest in the boxing community. Whether or not this interest was spilling over to general sports fans and beyond was a separate issue. Tickets were available at list price until three days before the fight.
Fury predicted that he’d knock Wilder out in the second round. That earned a scornful rejoinder from Deontay, who proclaimed, “Fury has got pillows as fists. We all know he donât have no power. He’s just a tall big man that can move around a ring and that’s about it. As far as him knocking me out, he donât believe that himself. He canât even see that in his dreams.â
There was the usual idiotic (and dangerous) shoving and shouting at the final pre-fight press conference on Wednesday, all of which was gleefully distributed as a marketing tool by the promotion (except for the part where Wilder and Fury trashed each other as being unmarketable).
Among other things, Wilder berated Fury, saying, “When I found you, you was strung out on coke. When I found you, you was big as a house, contemplating about killing yourself. So don’t you ever forget who brought you to bigtime boxing. I brought you back. I put food on your table for your family to eat. Don’t you ever forget that.”
On Thursday, to its credit, the Nevada State Athletic Commission ruled that, for security reasons, the fighters would not be allowed to engage in the ritual staredown at the close of Friday’s weigh-in. Arum complained about the ruling, but all was not lost. After the weigh-in, as Fury and Wilder stood on opposite sides of the stage with six commission inspectors between them, Fury gave Wilder the finger and Deontay responded by grabbing his crotch.
For their first encounter, Wilder had weighed in at 212-1/2 pounds. This time, he tipped the scales at 231 (his heaviest ever). Fury had weighed 256-1/2 pounds the first time around. Now it was 273 (three pounds less than his all-time high). The general feeling was that the extra weight would help Wilder and hurt Fury.
It was a pick ’em fight with a slight edge in the odds, if any, toward Wilder. Looking at the two bouts that each man had engaged in subsequent to their first encounter, Deontay had seemed to be improving (against Dominic Breazeale and Luis Ortiz). Fury, on the other hand, had appeared to be stagnating (against Tom Schwarz and Otto Wallin).
“Deontay does not get the credit that he deserves for the improvement,” Jay Deas (Wilder’s co-trainer and adviser) said in a February 12 media conference call. “I don’t think people totally get what they’re seeing, and sometimes they don’t understand the nuances of the sport. We do what we call a six-month test. Every six months, we ask ourselves, ‘Would you right now beat you from six months ago?’ And I can answer one hundred percent honestly that, since the beginning of the first day that he came in the gym, that answer has been yes. He keeps getting better and better and better and smarter and refined with the technique. The things that people don’t really get is the timing, the distance, the spacing, the positioning, all those things that allow you to land those big punches. That’s skill. And he wants to learn. He’s the kind of guy that is still hungry to get better and better.”
ESPN commentator Teddy Atlas was in accord, saying, “I feel like Wilder has added something. Heâs added a delivery system where he mesmerizes you with the jab and then BOP, the right hand is right behind it, George Foreman did it, Teofilo Stevenson did it. They lie to you. They make you think youâre safe because theyâre only throwing the jab three-quarters so you think thatâs the end of the line for danger. But itâs not. Itâs about three inches further because they didnât extend the jab. And Wilder has learned how to do that by making you think youâre safe. You cooperate a little, and then BOOM!”
In December, Fury announced that he was replacing trainer Ben Davison with Sugar Hill and that Stitch Duran (not Jorge Capetillo) would be his cutman for the February 22 rematch. Fury and Hill soon began talking about tapping into a new reserve of power. But as Don Turner (who trained Evander Holyfield and Larry Holmes late in their respective ring careers) observed, “You don’t take a fighter in his thirties, change his style, and teach him to punch with more power in an eight-week training camp. The fighter makes the fighter. The trainer only helps.”
Those who picked Wilder to win the rematch noted that, as Wilder-Fury I progressed, Deontay seemed to figure Tyson out. He’d knocked Fury down in both the ninth and twelfth rounds and was likely to set up his punches more effectively the second time around.
Also, there was the matter of “the cut.” Fury had suffered a gruesome gash along his right eyebrow courtesy of a left hook from Wallin in round three of their September 14 bout. The cut bled profusely throughout the fight and required 47 stitches to close.
The scar tissue from that cut would be an attractive target for Wilder. “No matter what he does,” Deontay said, “when he fights me, it’s going to open right back up. Iâm going to pop it right back open. He can get plastic surgery, duct tape or staples, super glue or hot glue, cement glue. Shit, he can go get some of that flex glue. It ainât gonna to matter. I definitely look forward to re-cutting open that eye.”
And finally, there was the biggest factor of all – Wilder’s power.
“Iâve never seen anything like it,” Bob Arum (who co-promotes Fury with Frank Warren) said. “It’s actually accentuated by the fact he doesnât know how to box. He’s a horrible boxer. He puts on a clinic of how not to box, but he has that right hand.”
“For one punch,” Teddy Atlas added, “just one punch, I think Wilder is the hardest puncher in the history of the sport.”
Yes, Wilder was a one-trick pony. But it was quite a trick.
Meanwhile, the case for a Fury victory began with Wilder’s limited repertoire. Bart Barry spoke for many when he wrote, “Wilder only took what he did best and committed to doing it better. If the holes in his style aren’t any larger now than when he started, they are, surprisingly, no smaller.”
Fury’s partisans also reasoned that their man would be in better shape for the rematch than for the first fight and wouldn’t tire down the stretch as he had before. Also, they were confident that, this time, in addition to making Wilder miss, he’d make Deontay pay when he missed.
Asked what he’d learned from Wilder-Fury I, Tyson responded, “He’s got a big right hand and that’s it. He’s a one-dimensional fighter. The biggest mistake I made last time was not making him pay when he was hurt. I didnât know what I had in the tank last time. This time, I know I can go the distance. I’ll throw everything but the kitchen sink at him, and he won’t know what hit him.”
As for the knockdown in round twelve of their first encounter, Fury explained, “I backed up in a straight line and got clipped with a right hand and it was good night, Vienna. That was all she wrote. But then I rose from the canvas like a phoenix from the ashes to get back into it, take him up, and finish the fight the stronger man.”
There were a host of battles between ESPN and FOX behind the scenes with regard to a whole range of issues. Finally, it was agreed as to on-air talent that Joe Tessitore (ESPN) would call the blow by blow with expert commentary from Lennox Lewis (FOX) and Andre Ward (ESPN). Host Brian Kenny (FOX) would be joined at the fight-night desk by Max Kellerman (ESPN), Shawn Porter (FOX), and Timothy Bradley (ESPN). In addition, Mark Kriegel (ESPN), Kate Abdo (FOX), and Bernardo Osuna (ESPN) would serve as ringside reporters while Larry Hazzard (FOX) would be the unofficial scorer and rules expert.
There was a lot of chatter during the televised portion of the pay-per-view undercard about how this would be Wilder’s eleventh consecutive heavyweight title defense, breaking a tie that he’d held with Muhammad Ali. This ignored the fact that Ali was the undisputed heavyweight champion of the world during his reign while Deontay was one of many. Max Kellerman then analogized Fury’s boxing skills and elusiveness in the ring to that of Wilfred Benitez and Willie Pep.
Viewers were also told that the live gate for Wilder-Fury II had surpassed $17 million which made it the largest live gate in the history of heavyweight boxing in Nevada. Lewis-Holyfield II in 1999 had grossed $16.86 million. Of course, accounting for inflation, $16.86 million in 1999 would be worth $26.28 million today.
Fury, wearing a red velour robe and sitting on a throne, was wheeled to the ring by four buxom women while a recording of Crazy sung by Patsy Cline played over the public address system. Wilder’s opted for glitzy black body armor accessorized by a black mask during his ring walk with rapper D Smoke providing the soundtrack.
Then came the moment of reckoning.
Fury dominated the action from beginning to end. He came out aggressively in the first two rounds, stalking and outjabbing Wilder, who hardly jabbed at all. As is usually the case, Deontay did little to set up his punches and looked simply to land the big one. His deficiencies as a boxer showed.
Boxing Fury is a bit like boxing a mountain. Wilder was having trouble coping with a bigger man who chose this time to come right at him, throwing punches.
With 38 seconds left in round three, Fury dropped Wilder with a clubbing overhand right that landed on Deontay’s left ear. If Wilder had looked bad before, from that point on, he looked awful. His legs were weak. His balance was unsteady. He bled profusely from his left ear and seemed confused if not dazed. He wasn’t just losing rounds. For the first time in his career, he was getting beaten up.
Referee Kenny Bayless helped Wilder a bit by breaking the fighters at times when Fury was working effectively inside. Then, not long after Tyson dropped Deontay with a hook to the body in round five, Bayless (without previous warning) took a point away from Fury for hitting on the break.
By round six, Wilder was fighting like he was out on his feet. And more significantly, his power had deserted him. It no longer looked as though he had the ability to change the course of the fight with one punch. It was then that Fury had the poor taste to lick Deontay’s neck during a clinch to taste the blood that was flowing from his ear.
The mauling continued. One minute 37 seconds into round seven, with Wilder trapped in a neutral corner and Fury pounding away, Mark Breland (Deontay’s chief second) threw in the towel.
“Things like this happen,” Wilder said in a post-fight interview with Bernardo Osuna. “The best man won tonight. I just wish my corner would have let me go out on my shield.”
He’s fortunate that they didn’t.
Fury’s story is a remarkable tale of redemption given the mental health issues that forced his hiatus from the ring four years ago. As for what comes next; Wilder has thirty days to exercise a rematch clause for a third fight that would be contested with a 60-40 revenue split in favor of Team Fury.
Meanwhile, in the weeks ahead, there will be a lot of talk about “greatness.” Thus, it’s worth considering the thoughts of Carlos Acevedo who wrote, “Of all the concepts, phrases, and words that have devolved in boxing over the years, none has slipped so drastically as the notion of greatness. Writers and reporters take many of their cues directly from press releases, publicists, promoters, and network puffers. This is like taking advice from a three-card monte dealer on where the queen of hearts may be.”
In his most recent fight preceding Wilder-Fury II, Fury struggled against Otto Wallin. Against Wilder on Saturday night, at times he looked sloppy. Two victories – against Wladimir Klitschko and now Wilder – don’t qualify a fighter for greatness.
Fury himself seems to understand that notion. During a media conference call to promote Wilder-Fury II, he declared, “The only thing that means anything to me is winning these fights. That’s it, period. I’m a purebred fighting man through and through. And when it’s over, it’s over. I’m not really concerned about the legacy. I’m not overly concerned about what happens when I’m done. We can only take one chapter of our lives at a time, and I’m just enjoying living in the moment right now. I’m living my dream, my childhood dream, my young adult dream, and my midlife dream. I really donât care about legacy because what somebody thinks of me when I’m finished is unimportant. It’s all sticks and stones. Whether it’s good or bad, everyone is entitled to their opinion. And there will be somebody else to replace me just like every other champion.”
Photo credit: Al Applerose
Thomas Hauser’s email address is thomashauserwriter@gmail.com. His most recent book â A Dangerous Journey: Another Year Inside Boxingâ was published by the University of Arkansas Press. In 2004, the Boxing Writers Association of America honored Hauser with the Nat Fleischer Award for career excellence in boxing journalism. On June 14, 2020, he will be inducted into the International Boxing Hall of Fame.
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Thomas Hauserâs Literary Notes: Johnny Greaves Tells a Sad Tale

Johnny Greaves was a professional loser. He had one hundred professional fights between 2007 and 2013, lost 96 of them, scored one knockout, and was stopped short of the distance twelve times. There was no subtlety in how his role was explained to him: âLook, Johnny; professional boxing works two ways. Youâre either a ticket-seller and make money for the promoter, in which case you get to win fights. If you donât sell tickets but can look after yourself a bit, you become an opponent and you fight to lose.â
By losing, he could make upwards of one thousand pounds for a nightâs work.
Greaves grew up with an alcoholic father who beat his children and wife. Johnny learned how to survive the beatings, which is what his career as a fighter would become. He was a scared, angry, often violent child who was expelled from school and found solace in alcohol and drugs.
The fighters Greaves lost to in the pros ran the gamut from inept local favorites to future champions Liam Walsh, Anthony Crolla, Lee Selby, Gavin Rees, and Jack Catterall. Alcohol and drugs remained constants in his life. He fought after drinking, smoking weed, and snorting cocaine on the night before – and sometimes on the day of – a fight. On multiple occasions, he came close to committing suicide. His goal in boxing ultimately became to have one hundred professional fights.
On rare occasions, two professional losers â âjourneymen,â theyâre called in The UK – are matched against each other. That was how Greaves got three of the four wins on his ledger. On September 29, 2013, he fought the one hundredth and final fight of his career against Dan Carr in Londonâs famed York Hall. Carr had a 2-42-2 ring record and would finish his career with three wins in ninety outings. Greaves-Carr was a fight that Johnny could win. He emerged triumphant on a four-round decision.
The Johnny Greaves Story, told by Greaves with the help of Adam Darke (Pitch Publishing) tells the whole sordid tale. Some of Greavesâs thoughts follow:
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âWe all knew why we were there, and it wasnât to win. The home fighters were the guys who had sold all the tickets and were deemed to have some talent. We were the scum. We knew our role. Give some young prospect a bit of a workout, keep out of the way of any big shots, lose on points but take home a wedge of cash, and fight again next week.â
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âIf you fought too hard and won, then you wouldnât get booked for any more shows. If you swung for the trees and got cut or knocked out, then you couldnât fight for another 28 days. So what were you supposed to do? The answer was to LOOK like you were trying to win but be clever in the process. Slip and move, feint, throw little shots that were rangefinders, hold on, waste time. There was an art to this game, and I was quickly learning what a cynical business it was.â
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âThe unknown for the journeyman was always how good your opponent might be. He could be a future world champion. Or he might be some hyped-up nightclub bouncer with a big following who was making lots of money for the promoter.â
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âNo matter how well I fought, I wasnât going to be getting any decisions. These fights werenât scored fairly. The referees and judges understood who the paymasters were and they played the game. What was the point of having a go and being the best version of you if nobody was going to recognize or reward it?â
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âWhen I first stepped into the professional arena, I believed I was tough. believed that nobody could stop me. But fight by fight, those ideas were being challenged and broken down. Once you know that you can be hurt, dropped and knocked out, youâre never quite the same fighter.â
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âI had started off with a dream, an idea of what boxing was and what it would do for me. It was going to be a place where I could prove my toughness. A place that I could escape to and be someone else for a while. For a while, boxing was that place. But it wore me down to the point that I stopped caring. Iâd grown sick and tired of it all. I wished that I could feel pride at what Iâd achieved. But most of the time, I just felt like a loser.â
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âThe fights were getting much more difficult, the damage to my body and my psyche taking longer and longer to repair after each defeat. I was putting myself in more and more danger with each passing fight. I was getting hurt more often and stopped more regularly. Even with the 28-day [suspensions], I didnât have time to heal. I was staggering from one fight to the next and picking up more injuries along the way.â
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âI was losing my toughness and resilience. When thatâs all youâve ever had, itâs a hard thing to accept. Drink and drugs had always been present in my life. But now they became a regular part of my pre-fight preparation. It helped to shut out the fear and quieted the thoughts and worries that I shouldnât be doing this anymore.â
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âMy body was broken. My hands were constantly sore with blisters and cuts. I had early arthritis in my hip and my teeth were a mess. I looked an absolute state and inside I felt worse. But I couldnât stop fighting yet. Not before the 100.â
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âI had abused myself time after time and stood in front of better men, taking a beating when I could have been sensible and covered up. At the start, I was rarely dropped or stopped. Now it was becoming a regular part of the game. Most of the guys I was facing were a lot better than me. This was mainly about survival.â
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âWas my brain f***ed from taking too many punches? I knew it was, to be honest. I could feel my speech changing and memory going. I was mentally unwell and shouldnât have been fighting but the promoters didnât care. Johnny Greaves was still a good booking. Maybe an even better one now that he might get knocked out.â
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âNobody gave a f*** about me and whether I lived or died. I didnât care about that much either. But the thought of being humiliated, knocked out in front of all those people; that was worse than the thought of dying. The idea of being exposed for what I was â a nobody.â
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âI was a miserable bastard in real life. A depressive downbeat mouthy little f***er. Everything Iâve done has been to mask the feeling that Iâm worthless. That I have no value. The drinks and the drugs just helped me to forget that for a while. I still frighten myself a lot. My thoughts scare me. Do I really want to be here for the next thirty or forty years? I donât know. If suicide wasnât so impactful on people around you, I would have taken that leap. I donât enjoy life and never have.â
So . . . Any questions?
****
Steve Albert was Showtime’s blow-by-blow commentator for two decades. But his reach extended far beyond boxing.
Albert’s sojourn through professional sports began in high school when he was a ball boy for the New York Knicks. Over the years, he was behind the microphone for more than a dozen teams in eleven leagues including four NBA franchises.
Putting the length of that trajectory in perspective . . . As a ballboy, Steve handed bottles of water and towels to a Knicks back-up forward named Phil Jackson. Later, they worked together as commentators for the New Jersey Nets. Then Steve provided the soundtrack for some of Jackson’s triumphs when he won eleven NBA championships as head coach of the Chicago Bulls and Los Angeles Lakers.
It’s also a matter of record that Steve’s oldest brother, Marv, was arguably the greatest play-by-play announcer in NBA history. And brother Al enjoyed a successful career behind the microphone after playing professional hockey.
Now Steve has written a memoir titled A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Broadcast Booth. Those who know him know that Steve doesn’t like to say bad things about people. And he doesn’t here. Nor does he delve into the inner workings of sports media or the sports dream machine. The book is largely a collection of lighthearted personal recollections, although there are times when the gravity of boxing forces reflection.
“Fighters were unlike any other professional athletes I had ever encountered,” Albert writes. “Many were products of incomprehensible backgrounds, fiercely tough neighborhoods, ghettos and, in some cases, jungles. Some got into the sport because they were bullied as children. For others, boxing was a means of survival. In many cases, it was an escape from a way of life that most people couldn’t even fathom.”
At one point, Steve recounts a ringside ritual that he followed when he was behind the microphone for Showtime Boxing: “I would precisely line up my trio of beverages – coffee, water, soda – on the far edge of the table closest to the ring apron. Perhaps the best advice I ever received from Ferdie [broadcast partner Ferdie Pacheco] was early on in my blow-by-blow career – ‘Always cover your coffee at ringside with an index card unless you like your coffee with cream, sugar, and blood.’â
Writing about the prelude to the infamous Holyfield-Tyson “bite fight,” Albert recalls, “I remember thinking that Tyson was going to do something unusual that night. I had this sinking feeling in my gut that he was going to pull something exceedingly out of the ordinary. His grousing about Holyfield’s head butts in the first fight added to my concern. [But] nobody could have foreseen what actually happened. Had I opened that broadcast with, ‘Folks, tonight I predict that Mike Tyson will bite off a chunk of Evander Holyfield’s ear,’ some fellas in white coats might have approached me and said, ‘Uh, Steve, could you come with us.'”
And then there’s my favorite line in the book: “I once asked a fighter if he was happily married,â Albert recounts. âHe said, ‘Yes, but my wife’s not.'”
“All I ever wanted was to be a sportscaster,” Albert says in closing. “I didn’t always get it right, but I tried to do my job with honesty and integrity. For forty-five years, calling games was my life. I think it all worked out.”
 Thomas Hauser’s email address is thomashauserwriter@gmail.com. His next book â The Most Honest Sport: Two More Years Inside Boxing â will be published this month and is available for preorder at:
https://www.amazon.com/Most-Honest-Sport-Inside-Boxing/dp/1955836329
         In 2019, Hauser was selected for boxing’s highest honor – induction into the International Boxing Hall of Fame.
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Argentinaâs Fernando Martinez Wins His Rematch with Kazuto Ioka

In an excellent fight climaxed by a furious 12th round, Argentinaâs Fernando Daniel Martinez came off the deck to win his rematch with Kazuto Ioka and retain his piece of the world 115-pound title. The match was staged at Iokaâs familiar stomping grounds, the Ota-City General Gymnasium in Tokyo.
In their first meeting on July 7 of last year in Tokyo, Martinez was returned the winner on scores of 117-111, 116-112, and a bizarre 120-108. The rematch was slated for late December, but Martinez took ill a few hours before the weigh-in and the bout was postponed.
The 33-year-old Martinez, who came in sporting a 17-0 (9) record, was a 7-2 favorite to win the sequel, but there were plenty of reasons to favor Ioka, 36, aside from his home field advantage. The first Japanese male fighter to win world titles in four weight classes, Ioka was 3-0 in rematches and his long-time trainer Ismael Salas was on a nice roll. Salas was 2-0 last weekend in Times Square, having handled upset-maker Rolly Romero and Reito Tsutsumi who was making his pro debut.
But the fourth time was not a charm for Ioka (31-4-1) who seemingly pulled the fight out of the fire in round 10 when he pitched the Argentine to the canvas with a pair of left hooks, but then wasnât able to capitalize on the momentum swing.
Martinez set a fast pace and had Ioka fighting off his back foot for much of the fight. Beginning in round seven, Martinez looked fatigued, but the Argentine was conserving his energy for the championship rounds. In the end, he won the bout on all three cards: 114-113, 116-112, 117-110.
Up next for Fernando Martinez may be a date with fellow unbeaten Jesse âBamâ Rodriguez, the lineal champion at 115. San Antonioâs Rodriguez is a huge favorite to keep his title when he defends against South Africaâs obscure Phumelela Cafu on July 19 in Frisco, Texas.
As for Ioka, had he won todayâs rematch, that may have gotten him over the hump in so far as making it into the International Boxing Hall of Fame. True, winning titles in four weight classes is no great shakes when the bookends are only 10 pounds apart, but Ioka is still a worthy candidate.
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Emanuel Navarrete Survives a Bloody Battle with Charly Suarez in San Diego

In a torrid battle Mexicoâs Emanuel âVaqueroâ Navarrete and his staccato attack staved off the herky-jerky non-stop assaults of Philippineâs Charly Suarez to win by technical decision and retain the WBO super feather world title on Saturday.
What do they feed these guys?
Navarrete (40-2-1, 32 KOs) and his elongated arms managed to connect enough to compensate against the surprising Suarez (18-1, 10 KOs) who wowed the crowd at Pechanga Arena in San Diego.
An accidental clash of heads opened a cut on the side of Navarreteâs left eye and forced a stoppage midway through the fight.
From the opening round Navarrete used his windmill style of attack with punches from different angles that caught Suarez multiple times early. It did not matter. Suarez fired back with impunity and was just as hungry to punch it out with the Mexican fighter.
It was savage.
Every time Navarrete connected solidly, he seemed to pause and check out the damage. Bad idea. Suarez would immediately counter with bombs of his own and surprise the champion with his resilience and tenacity.
Wherever they found Suarez they should look for more, because the Filipino fighter from Manila was ferocious and never out of his depth.
Around the sixth round the Mexican fighter seemed a little drained and puzzled at the tireless attacks coming from Suarez. During an exchange of blows a cut opened up on Navarrete and it was ruled an accidental clash of heads by the referee. Blood streamed down the side of Navarreteâs face and it was cleared by the ringside physician.
But at the opening of the eighth round, the fight was stopped and the ringside physician ruled the cut was too bad to continue. The California State Athletic Commission looked at tape of the round when the cut opened to decipher if it was an accidental butt or a punch that caused the cut. It was unclear so the refereeâs call of accidental clash of heads stood as the final ruling.
Score cards from the judges saw Navarrete the winner by scores of 78-75, 77-76 twice. He retains the WBO title.
Interim IBF Lightweight Title
The sharp-shooting Raymond âDangerâ Muratalla (23-0, 17 KOs) maneuvered past Russiaâs Zaur Abdullaev (20-2, 12 KOs) by unanimous decision to win the interim IBF lightweight title after 12 rounds.
Both fighters were strategic in their approach with Muratalla switching from orthodox to southpaw at various times of the fight. Neither fighter was ever able to dominant any round.
Defense proved the difference between the two lightweights. Muratalla was able to slip more blows than Abdullaev and that proved the difference. The fighter from Fontana, California was able to pierce Abdullaevâs guard more often than not, especially with counter punches.
Abdullaev was never out of the fight. The Russian fighter was able to change tactics and counter the counters midway through the fight. It proved effective especially to the body. But it was not enough to offset Muratallaâs accuracy.
There were no knockdowns and after 12 rounds the judges scored it 118-110, 119-109 twice for Muratalla who now becomes the mandatory for the IBF lightweight title should Vasyl Lomachenko return to defend it.
Muratalla was brief.
âHe was a tough fighter,â said Muratalla. âMy defense is something I work on a lot.â
Perla Wins
Super flyweight Perla Bazaldua (2-0) eased past Mona Ward (0-2) with a polished display of fighting at length and inside.
Combination punching and defense allowed Bazaldua to punch in-between Wardâs attacks and force the St. Louis fighter to clinch repeatedly. But Ward hung in there despite taking a lot of blows. After four rounds the Los Angeles-based Bazaldua was scored the winner 40-36 on all three cards. Bazaldua signed a long term contract with Top Rank in March.
Photo credit: Mikey Williams / Top Rank
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