The Cruelest Sport - A Professional Boxing blog

“Is not the truth the truth?”  William Shakespeare

Paulie Malignaggi boxed well against Juan Diaz and may or may not have deserved the decision. The terms “robbery” and ”controversial,” however, should be reserved for fights that have earned themand should not be used merely to shore up “Narrative of the Week” laziness. When not spewing forth cliché after cliché (“turning back the clock,” “another black eye for boxing,”etc.), manufacturing sports history on the spur of the moment, and cheerleading for corporate fighters, boxing writers love to hone in on reductive themes, hold them up as facts, and repeat them ad infinitum. These unrefined storylines, which require as much thought as the average grocery list, begin immediately after an event occurs, gain momentum over the course of a week, and soon crystallize into faux common knowledge. The following are some cloying fictions, developed over the weekend without, it seems, a pinch of reflection, debunked.

THE JUAN DIAZ-PAULIE MALIGNAGGI “CONTROVERSY”

Diaz and Malignaggi both won a few rounds apiece hands down and the others were fairly close. If you are a believer in Compubox, then you might have already noticed that the punchstat numbers, on a round by round basis, were even. Diaz landed morepunches than Malignaggi in six rounds, and Malignaggi landed more punches than Diaz in six rounds. Diaz landed more power punches–hooks, uppercuts, crosses, and overhand shots–than Malignaggi in 9 out of 12 rounds, with one round even in connect percentage. According to the final numbers, Malignaggi landed 13 more punches over the course of the fight than Diaz did. In the first round, Malignaggi landed 12 more than Diaz, which means that the final eleven rounds were almost exactly even. Diaz connected at a higher percentage. There were no knockdowns and no point deductions. So, how exactly does all this add up to a robbery?

GALE VAN HOY, 75, AS VILLAIN

Despite the fact that the fight was closer than his outburst warranted, Malignaggi was essentially right. Texas has one of the only reputations in boxing that has actually been earned. Some of its officials–Robert Gonzalez and the appalling Laurence Cole–are beyond the pale, but the aspersions cast on Gale Van Hoy are further evidence of “Narrative of the Week” syndrome. His 118-110 card in favor of Diaz was preposterous, but to say that he has some sort of history of dubious scoring is largely unfounded. Until the Diaz-Malignaggi brouhaha, Van Hoy had few incongruities in major fights. Malignaggi, who saw sinister goings on in a 114-114 card Van Hoy turned in for Rocky Juarez-Chris John, conveniently forgot to mention that all three judges had the same score after that fight. His 117-111 score in favor of Jermain Taylor against Cory Spinks may have been a bit too wide of the mark, but brain fevered Dick Flaherty had the same score the other way. A case can also be made for his scoring of Sam Peter-James Toney II, where Van Hoy picked Toney by a comfortable margin. Other than that, no great outrages until this past Saturday night.  Mr. Van Hoy can now look forward to being branded as some sort of scoundrel for as long as he continues to judge prizefights.

MAX KELLERMAN ON ARGUELLO

Max Kellerman, who has improved significantly as commentator on HBO, committed an irresponsible gaffe by perpetuating the myth that Alexis Arguello (allegedly) committed suicide with a shotgun. The term ”allegedly” is also a “Narrative of the Week” special. Dr. Zacarias Duarte, Director of the Institute of Forensic Medicine in Nicaragua, clearly stated that Arguello shot himself with a Ceska 9mm pistol. Again, it should be repeated, that Arguello was officially found to have committed suicide. Until further evidence proves otherwise, the ruling of Nicaraguan authorities remains the sole explanation. Why on earth would Kellerman choose the rumor of a shotgun over the official report of a 9mm? Has he taken to prowling through the Central American jungles and playing spy or detective like something out of Graham Greene and Eric Ambler? Unless Mr. Kellerman has some inside scoop on the workings of the Nicaraguan underworld that he will only allude to obliquely on telecasts aimed at fans of combat sports, then he should stick to the reported facts.

THE REDEMPTION OF ROBERT GUERRERO

Finally, there is the banal ”Robert Guerrero Redemption” storyline, one that is particularly interesting because the false narrative is self-perpetuated. To the press, Guerrero was (after his no-contest bout with Daud Yordan) a quitter. So anything he accomplishes or overcomes in the ring in the future is “read” as a response to the fictional construct of him being a dog in the ring. As much as the egomaniacs who (one such egomaniac, whose column should be renamed “Me, Myself, & I,” lambasted Gale Van Hoy for scoring Diaz-Malignaggi 118-110 despite the fact that this same writer scored in favor of Miguel Cotto, 116-111, against Joshua Clottey) skew and spin the sport under the guise of journalism would like to believe otherwise, Guerrero does not perform based on what they Twitter about him. He did not fight through the pain of an injured hand and a cut against Malcolm Klassen to avoid getting dribbled on by drooling forum ranters and devotees of cyber-schadenfreude.

According to the unimaginative storylines of web barkers everywhere, when it looked like the fight with Yordan would be a tough one, Guerrero looked for the emergency exit. Well, really, the only boxers who know they will not be in a tough fight are the ones signed to HBO contracts. Guerrero was in a tough fight against Jason Litzau, a tough fight against Gamaliel Diaz, a tough fight against Salido, a tough fight against Klassen, and a tough fight against Eric Aiken. Two rounds into the fight with Yordan, Guerrero suffered a gash from a head butt and was taken to the ringside physician by the referee. The ringside physician noted how severe the cut was and asked Guerrero if he could see. With- out much fanfare, Guerrero said no. For that, he will constantly have his heart questioned by the usual suspects too lazy to find angles in a sport overloaded with them. Guerrero is a professional prizefighter–a concept that is headed the way of the dodo these days–and he has fought with cuts and bruises on several occasions without crumbling like a stale gingerbread man. The shellackings he took at the hands of Gamaliel Diaz and Orlando Salido should be proof enough of that.

As for the fight itself, Guerrero beat a tough proposition in Malcolm Klassen in a good matchup, rode out some rough spots, and never, not for a moment, did he mull over what Doghouse Boxing was going to say about him.

1.

When Bernard Hopkins said he was willing to substitute for Kelly Pavlik against Paul Williams, another dubious catchweight fight became a distinct possibility. What these mix n’ match bouts do–other than put one fighter at a disadvantage even before the opening bell rings–is give a new excuse to boxers to avoid legitimate fights.

Despite the fact that they only step into the ring once or twice a year, boxers are more hesitant to fight than ever. They sit around waiting for HBO dates to free up, they sit around waiting for Alphabet Soup mandatories to materialize, they sit around waiting for the exact dollar figure they yearn for to appear, they sit around waiting for Guffman, Lefty, and Godot.

Now they can add sitting around waiting for the hot HBO fighter two or three divisions below them to free up. With HBO happy to keep things in the family (to satisfy their obsessive craving for brand continuity) and the toothless media in line with anything that has to do with Fantasy League matches, we can all look forward to seeing lightweights and junior middleweights battling it out with regularity in the future. Thanks to this disturbing trend, Hopkins has a chance to further add to his light heavyweight legacy, one that already includes fights with a junior middleweight, a middleweight, and a super middleweight.

2.

Over the years there have been several gifted fighters with a knack for transcending weight classes: Henry Armstrong, “Cyclone” Johnny Thompson, Joe Walcott, Young Stribling, Sam Langford, Georges Carpentier, and, yes, Manny Pacquiao, but the current trend is more indicative of how weak most divisions are and how HBO will try to maximize ratings by putting on in-house fights regardless of weight class.

3.

Of course, some of the same people who would like to see featherweights face off with welterweights are opposed to seeing Daniel Santos and Yuri Foreman fight on the undercard of the Manny Pacquiao-Miguel Cotto super event. Somehow, these two professional fighters, with a combined record of 59-3-1 with two no-decisions, do not belong on the undercard of a major event because they are boring. Foreman is not Rocky Graziano, true, but he has been a professional fighter for seven years and he deserves a break as much as any other boring fighter who somehow winds up with a fat money clip. After all, Bernard Hopkins has scored one knockout in six years and that was against a former welterweight. Foreman will be lucky to earn $50,000 for his crack at Santos, a pittance compared to what “Mr. Electricity,” Wladimir Klitschko, earned to spank “Heavyweight Explosion” alumnus Ray Austin.

4.

Some fighters are boring because they lack the skill to be exciting (Fres Oquendo, John Ruiz); others are boring because they lack the temperament (Chad Dawson, Wladimir Klitschko); and, finally, there are those who are boring because of style. That list includes Bernard Hopkins, by the way, whose fights with Howard Eastman, Keith Holmes, Syd Vanderpool, Robert Allen, and Jermain Taylor were not exactly Dempsey-Firpo caliber.

5.

Pure boxers are as out of fashion these days as sea monkeys or 8-Ball jackets. Foreman, Santos, Paulie Malignaggi, Steven Luevano, Ivan Calderon, and others bear the perpetual abuse of forum ranters everywhere who are secretly MMA fans at heart but are unwilling to admit it.

Santos, a southpaw counterpuncher, is considered boring despite the fact that he scored a one-punch knockout in his last fight against undefeated Joachime Alcine and has a higher KO percentage than both Chad Dawson and Bernard Hopkins. Santos also won a close technical decision over Antonio Margarito in 2004 in a fight that was decidedly not boring. Certainly that should count for something; after all, beating Margarito is the only reason Paul Williams is considered a “pound-for-pound” fighter. (Or is it because he went 1-1 with Carlos Quintana and beat a 37-year old Winky Wright who had been out of the ring for nearly two years?) In addition, Santos has accomplished things nearly extinct in modern boxing. He has won several fights as the underdog; has sprung upsets on enemy turf; emphatically reversed one of his losses; defended his titles numerous times across the globe (Canada, Italy, Germany, Wales, and the U.S.), made a living as a prizefighter without ever having a first-class ticket on the HBO Money Train, and faced a higher quality of opposition than many of his wealthier contemporaries. Santos has fought, among others, Antonio Margarito (twice), Joachime Alcine, Jose Antonio Rivera, Giovanni Parisi, Sergiy Dzinziruk, Yori Boy Campas (before Campas was offered as a human sacrifice to Oscar De La Hoya on HBO), Fulgencio Zuniga, and Kofi Jantuah. The combined record of his last 15 opponents, including Foreman, is an astonishing 440-40-2. Moreover, Santos acknowledged his poor, albeit dominant, performance against Zuniga in Puerto Rico, and tried to make amends for it by irrationally brawling with Margarito in Hato Rey. If only boxing had more boring fighters like Santos.

6.

A week or so ago, George Kimball reported in The Boston Herald that if the Pavlik-Williams fight fell through, Peter Manfredo, Jr., would challenge Pavlik for the middleweight title. Dan Goosen is adamant that Williams will fight in October, which means that Pavlik and Williams will probably not be meeting in 2009. Does that mean Manfredo, Jr., who retired briefly last year, will be next on the hit list of a champion who apparently has developed a phobia about practicing his profession against anyone who might hit back?

7.

It would not be at all surprising if Andre Berto and Chad Ochocinco did actually meet in the ring one day. After all, Ochocino fits right in with the kind of opposition Berto has been facing lately.

8.

Dan Rafael reports that the Versus network may soon be out of boxing. It took only three years for Versus to throw in the towel on a sport obsessed with autodestruction. But really, who can blame them? No sooner was Versus in the boxing business than viewers were forced to watch Tye Fields do his Sasquatch in quicksand routine. The public was also lucky enough to see washed-up Hasim Rahman struggle with Zuri Lawrence, a fighter with a record of 24-12-4 and ZERO knockouts going into the fight. Lawrence has yet to score a stoppage in his career. Sure, there were a couple of bigger names on the show, Kelly Pavlik and Paul Williams, for example, but they were usually in squash matches. Omar Nino did score a neat upset over Brian Viloria, and it was nice to see Joshua Clottey and Ricky Hatton in the ring, but all in all, most Versus telecasts were drab affairs. The exception remains the fierce brawl between Tomasz Adamek and Steve Cunningham last December. Like most networks, once Versus began to buy events on a fight-by-fight basis instead of giving specific promoters carte blanche the quality of their shows improved.

Years ago a startup boxing series often tied itself to leading promoters in order to avoid the pitfalls of on the job training in the Red Light District of Sports. In the 1980s, ESPN signed with Top Rank and Showtime signed with Don King. Versus tried the same approach with Bob Arum, but its contract must have been short term, otherwise why else would Arum dump Fields, Rahman, Bobby Pacquiao, and Manuel Huerta on a channel that reportedly paid higher licensing fees than ESPN and ShoBox?

Any network brave enough to get involved in boxing, an idea which often makes buying a filly from the Chicago Horse Mafia seem sensible, needs to a) hire a Director of Quality Control to approve bouts that air; and b) avoid exclusive contracts with any single promoter. Giving a series of blank dates to a promoter is like giving a box of waterproof matches and a jerry can filled with kerosene to a pyromaniac. Not that these measures are foolproof safeguards against bamboozlement. ESPN2, for example, used to have a “boxing coordinator.” Unfortunately, he was also a promoter and rewarded himself a certain amount of dates every year on a show he was brought in to oversee. Of course, Versus will continue to televise MMA bouts and bull riding events.

9.

Managers are always hesitant to put their fighters in against tough competition, but these days they rarely face that dilemma despite all the posturing you see and hear. Never has the fiduciary obligation for a manager been so easy. Some fighters have become millionaires by clocking policemen and waltzing with a slew of forty-somethings without, meanwhile, being able to draw a fraction of a Nielsen point or fill a Bingo hall. Chad Dawson, in two fights with mummified Antonio Tarver, drew fewer than 3,000 fans combined. (In 2005, more people showed up to see the maligned Yuri Foreman outpoint Jesus Soto-Karass over eight rounds in the Hammerstein Ballroom in New York City than to see Dawson and Tarver fight for the light heavyweight title in Nevada, but that is another subject altogether.) There is no longer any rhyme or reason as to why some fighters get paid and others do not. Managers lucky enough to have a foot in the door of Time-Warner merely have to kick back and wait for HBO to say “How does $3 million sound for your light heavyweight, who puts everyone to sleep and cannot sell out a Porta potty, to face a junior middleweight?”

10.

Those who think that the Friday Night Fights episode featuring Vivian Harris a few weeks ago was one of the worst ever aired have forgotten the days when John “The Macho Midget” Bailey was featured on cards promoted by the ESPN boxing coordinator/quality control czar himself.

Gus Dorazio, a fearless but limited contender during the late 1930s and early 1940s, made his name by being pole-axed in two rounds during a championship bid against Joe Louis in 1941. Outside of the ring, Dorazio was notorious for his scrapes with the law. On the fringes of the underworld for most of his life, Dorazio even resembled the part of a thug: his craggy face suggested a character Chester Gould might have invented. At his peak, Dorazio made life hell for a slew of top fighters with his roughhouse style and determination. Although Dorazio scored several upsets during his career, most notably against Bob Pastor and Joe Baksi, world-class fighters nearly always turned back his crude rushes, and his debacle against Joe Louis reduced his career to a “Bum-of-the-Month” punchline.

Years later, a wistful Dorazio would always recall his only chance to make it big. Perhaps, with a better showing, things might have turned out better for a man who seemed haunted by his feeble performance against Louis for the rest of his life. “I still dream of that fight,” he told The Philadelphia Inquirer in 1981.

Gus Dorazio, whose real name was Justine Vincolota, was born on July 4th, 1916, in South Philadelphia. In 1932 nearly a quarter of Philadelphia residents were jobless, and by 1933 Pennsylvania as a whole recorded an astonishing unemployment rate of forty percent. The Great Depression had waylaid the Keystone State and survival often meant fighting in one way or another. As a teenager, Dorazio learned to scrap on the harsh streets of Little Italy by providing security for a neighborhood waffle wagon. He also sold candy apples and often had to defend his wares from other neighborhood hooligans.

Dorazio soon gave up the street corners for a job as a stevedore. He also began training in a local gym. After winning the Philadelphia Golden Gloves and the District Amateur Championships as a light heavyweight, Dorazio turned pro in 1935. His first bout took place at the Waltz Dream Arena in Atlantic City. Over the next four years he earned a sizeable local following with his roughhouse style and repertoire of hardboiled wisecracks. Early in his career Dorazio fought exclusively in the Philadelphia and Atlantic City clubs. Under the guiding light of local businessman Joe Martino, Dorazio won his first twenty-one fights. Thirteen of these opponents, however, had zeroes in the victory column, and several others had notched fewer the three wins apiece. Martino sent Dorazio down the “set-up” route from the very beginning, but when Dorazio faced fringe contender and Jack Dempsey protégé Red Burman on April 23, 1937 his nifty streak came to a dead end. Burman earned a 10-round split decision over Dorazio, and the burly Philadelphian went on to drop three more nods in just over a year, including a bruising points loss to fellow paisan Al Ettore. Nearly 10,000 fans packed The Arena on Market Street to watch their native sons swap leather for what Dorazio amusingly referred to as the “Championship of Little Italy.” Ettore, on the downslide after having been knocked out by Joe Louis in September 1936 and nearly murdered by Tony Galento in July 1937, still had enough cute moves left to score a majority decision over a plodding Dorazio.

Gritty as always, Dorazio kept plugging along, grinding his way to points wins over undistinguished stumblebums before losing a decision to former amateur star and Tommy Loughran apprentice Matt Raymond in July 1938. Raymond would later be “outed” as a faux big man after removing his pants at a weigh-in to reveal that he was wearing a lead belt weighing twenty pounds! Two months later Dorazio won the rematch and went on to spring a major upset over Bob Pastor on December 12, 1938. 6,000 spectators crowded the Philadelphia Arena to watch hometown hero Dorazio twice deck the nifty boxing Pastor en route to a surprise decision over 10 rounds. Certainly Pastor hitting the canvas twice was a shock. In addition to his poor defensive skills and limited footwork, Dorazio lacked the pop a Hollywood starlet might have been expected to possess. In fact, at that point, Dorazio was in the midst of an incredible stretch of 23 consecutive fights without a stoppage. In a statistic worthy of Robert Ripley, Dorazio, who scored 16 of his 21 career knockouts during his early undefeated stretch, scored only five knockouts over his last 77 fights for a KO percentage of just under 4%.

Defeating Pastor, who went 10 fleet-footed rounds against Joe Louis in 1937, shot Dorazio into his first appearance at Madison Square Garden. His dream gig on the biggest stage in boxing quickly turned into a nightmare, however, when Roscoe Toles, veteran spoiler, pounded him into submission for a seventh round TKO on the Red Burman-Tommy Farr undercard on January 13, 1939. (Toles, the lanky Detroit wrecking ball, is notable for his own strange-but-true statistic: his first ten opponents, including a rampaging Joe Louis in a not so friendly exhibition bout, had a combined record on 124-24-6!) Dorazio returned to the Garden two months later and lost a decision to contender Patsy Perroni. He never won a fight in New York City.

In 1939 Dorazio took on streaking light heavyweight champion Billy Conn in Philadelphia. Before the fight, Conn gave Dorazio, who was kvetching about the color of his trunks, a politically incorrect tongue-lashing: “Listen Dago, all you’re going to need is a catcher’s mitt and a chest protector.” “The Pittsburgh Kid” was, more or less, right. He thumped Dorazio all over the ring on the way to scoring a bloody eighth round TKO before a crowd of 12,000. Throughout the fight Dorazio showed the heart and toughness that would endear him to Quaker City fans; although he was beaten like an old rug for most of the match, he still protested the stoppage.

After the Conn bout, Dorazio ran off a solid winning streak, drawing large crowds in Pennsylvania with his back alley style. But the punishment he took, even in victory, was debilitating. He mauled and bled his way to eleven consecutive wins, but only one of them ended by knockout. The long rounds were taking their toll on him. “My poor mother,” his sister, Marion Biscaccia, would later tell The Philadelphia Daily News. “Mommy used to have the pots on the stove to bathe his eyes.” His streak ended when Chilean hard case Arturo Godoy outpointed him over ten strenuous rounds in October 1940.

By then, five years into his career, Dorazio was already running on empty. But when Mike Jacobs decided that his money-making magic machine, Joe Louis, might be lost in a gathering fog of war, the “Bum-of-the-Month Club” was established, and Gus Dorazio was quickly offered a discount membership.

Two weeks after knocking out Red Burman in Madison Square Garden, Louis stepped into Convention Hall in Philadelphia to face Dorazio, his third “bum“ in as many months. But Louis was never happy with the disparaging label reporter Jack Miley pinned on his opponents. “Those guys I fought were not bums,” he told Art Rust, Jr. “They were hard-working professionals trying to make a dollar, too. I knew the training they went through, and I knew the dreams they had. No different than me. I respected every man I fought.”

Louis may have respected Dorazio, but he would have to go a long way to find someone else who shared his sentiments. Betting lines fluctuated and neared lottery odds before finally settling on Dorazio as a 15 to 1 underdog. James P. Dawson of The New York Times called Dorazio “…one of the most harmless challengers Louis, or any other champion of recent years, for that matter, has ever faced.” Even Pennsylvania Senator John J. Haluska, a former amateur boxer, called the match a farce and threatened a congressional hearing. In response, Dorazio promised to knock Louis through the ropes and into the lap of Senator Haluska. Rarely are wish fulfillment scenarios so farfetched.

Ticket prices, scaled from $1.25 to $5.75, were indicative of the second-rate show promoter Herman Taylor thought the fight would be. Dorazio, on the other hand, was as chipper as ever. “I’ve been training for three weeks now and I’ll be in top form when I meet Louis,” Dorazio told the Associated Press. “I can’t lose. I always fight best against the good boys.”

On February 17, 1941, Gus Dorazio entered the ring against Joe Louis for the chance of a lifetime. Even a strong losing effort would make him a hero throughout Pennsylvania. Anything less than that and Dorazio faced the possibility of being a laughing stock. Indeed, Dorazio seemed acutely aware of his reputation in the days leading up to the fight. “All the money in all the banks in Philadelphia couldn’t make me climb into that ring Monday night if I thought I couldn’t win,” he told the newswires. “Not with all those people looking at me.” Of course, if he won, his rough and tumble life would be changed forever. 15,902 fans jammed Convention Hall to see if he could do it.

When the bell rang for round one, Louis, 203 ½, and Dorazio, 193 ½, met at ring center. Dorazio was counting on his crouching style, in theory–if not exactly in practice–similar to that of Nathan Mann and Arturo Godoy, to fluster Louis, and it did–for all of a minute. Louis looked awkward sailing shots over his ducking opponent early in the opening round, and Dorazio, to the astonishment of the Milky Way, even managed to land several hard body shots as well as a flicking left hook. But Louis remained unflustered. Midway through the first round “The Brown Bomber” started to reach his target and Dorazio began to resemble a man staggering through Tornado Alley. Still, it was a fairly good round for Dorazio, and he returned to his corner in high spirits. During the rest period Dorazio told his trainer Jimmy Wilson that Louis was not nearly as tough as advertised. “I’m going out and stiffen him,” he said. But it was Dorazio who would wind up stiff.

Round two began with Dorazio squatting so low that he resembled Arturo Godoy in disguise. He exchanged a few jabs with Louis and rushed in without consequence. A little over a minute into the round, Dorazio popped up from his crouch and Louis straightened him up with a left hook. Then he stepped forward and connected with a short straight right that landed with the force of a Howitzer. “Dorazio,” reported Ted Meier, “fell flat on his face completely senseless.” The Philadelphia tough guy was counted out by referee Irving Kutcher while struggling to regain his feet. He had to be carried to his corner by his seconds.

Despite the humiliating knockout defeat, Dorazio continued his career, now losing nearly as often as he won. His record after the Louis fiasco includes an upset of Joe Baksi and decisions over Gunnar Barlund and Harry Bobo, but the TKOs started to mount and the scar tissue lining his brows began to split with revolting ease. He was still an attraction in Philadelphia, however, and thousands paid to see him war with the likes of Melio Bettina and Turkey Thompson. By 1943 Dorazio was under the management of the infamous Blinky Palermo, numbers king of Philadelphia and close associate of Frankie Carbo, and was hitting the road more often where spotty decisions often went against him.

In 1946 Dorazio, with his career in a deadfall, was convicted of draft dodging after the FBI discovered that his job as a wartime welder was strictly “no show.” He was sentenced to a year in prison. After his release, Dorazio mounted a dismal comeback before retiring for good in 1946 with a record of 77-20-5.

In retirement Dorazio revealed a bleak entrepreneurial side that included numbers running, leg-breaking, and armed robbery. But it was as a union goon that Dorazio found himself in existential trouble. In 1949 Dorazio lost control while performing his duties as an enforcer at the C. Schmidt and Sons Brewery in Philadelphia. Ostensibly a bottler at the plant, Dorazio was really hired muscle for the mob. The vicious beating he gave to Albert Blomeyer, 33, on January 27, 1949 proved to be fatal. Blomeyer, a bottler who had been circulating pro-labor petitions at the brewery, died of a fractured skull after Dorazio was through with him. Did Dorazio miscalculate the amount of force he needed to teach Blomeyer a lesson? Or did he just snap at the wrong time? When collared by detectives at his home in Yeadon, Dorazio spluttered out an impromptu, pre-Miranda Rights defense: “”People had been taunting me,” he said. “They called me punch drunk. They called me on the phone to heckle me. I just got the notion to get even with someone.” His outburst, negligible as a defense, seems odd in light of the circumstances. Did Dorazio slip over the edge and take out the frustrations of his life on Albert Blomeyer?

None of this, of course, made any difference to his open and shut case. The evidence against Dorazio was overwhelming and it took less than an hour for a jury to find him guilty of second-degree murder. Dorazio spent nearly three and a half years in notorious Eastern State penitentiary. After being released, he drifted in and out of both jobs and trouble for the next decade. Dorazio slowed down when a chronic back injury suffered during his days as a boxer flared up and forced him to collect disability. Never far from his mind, it seemed, was the fight with Joe Louis.

In his later years, out of work and with a reputation for being slightly punchy, Dorazio would repeat his claim that he would have beaten “The Brown Bomber” in a rematch to whoever would stop and listen. When Louis died in 1981, The Philadelphia Inquirer sought Dorazio out for an interview. “I still dream of that fight,” he said. “I was sure I could beat Louis, and in the first round I hurt him. I know I’d have beaten him if I hadn’t left my feet throwing a hook and he nailed me. I could’ve handled him–honest.” Gus Dorazio, often cited as one of the inspirations for the character of Rocky Balboa, died in 1987, more than 50 years after he first stepped into the Waltz Dream Arena.

It was harder than
expected, but Nonito Donaire turned back rugged Rafael Concepcion at the Hard
Rock Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas last night, posting a unanimous decision
over twelve bruising rounds. 
Scores were 117-111, 115-113, and 116-112.

Concepcion, who slips to
13-4-1 (8), appeared to be outclassed in the opening round.  Donaire hurt him with a flush left
uppercut and a hard bodyshot before swarming Concepcion in an attempt to finish
his opponent swiftly.  It did not
take long, however, for Concepcion to put an end to any thought of an easy
night.  

Early in round two,
Concepcion suffered a cut over his left eye but rallied to catch Donaire with
several powershots against the ropes. 
Donaire was rattled by an overhand right and switched to a more
defensive posture for the remainder of the round.  From that point on it was a competitive fight that saw
Concepcion charge forward behind a jab designed to disrupt, while Donaire used
his superior footwork and hand speed to pick off the onrushing Panamanian.  Although Donaire banked many of the
middle rounds, he never looked comfortable in doing so.  Concepcion was like a live grenade with
its pin removed but the spoon still held in place: dangerous at every
moment.    

From time to time
Concepcion landed hard shots that looked like showstopers, but Donaire, 115,
took them well and countered with left hooks and uppercuts.   Donaire, whose defense was shoddy
at best last night, would later blame the severity of the fight on the decided
size advantage Concepcion enjoyed.  Concepcion overshot the junior bantamweight
division by 4 ½ pounds and was ineligible to win the phantom title on the
line.  Best known for his upset
knockout of young AJ Banal and a torrid loss to “El Travioso,” Jorge Arce, in
2008, Concepcion proved to be a hard case for Donaire from beginning to
end.  His tenacity, chin, and
aggression made things hard for the talented Filipino until late in the fight
when Donaire, clearly the fresher boxer, pulled away over the final two rounds,
staggering a bloody and arm-weary Concepcion with eyecatching rights and left
hooks to seal the victory. 

With the win, Donaire, 22-1
(15), picked up an interim junior bantamweight doohickey and an extra $6,500 when Concepcion failed to make weight. 

Steven Luevano retained his WBO
featherweight thingamabob in inglorious fashion last night at the Hard Rock
Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas when Bernabe Concepcion was disqualified for
pole-axing him with a thunderous shot that landed well after the bell ending
the seventh round.  It was a
flagrant foul by Concepcion and Referee Jay Nady made the proper call in disqualifying him.  

Luevano, 125.5, appeared well on his way to
another tame unanimous decision when Concepcion lowered the dishonest
boom.  After taking a few lunging rights
during the opening three minutes, Luevano unleashed his pesky jab in the second
round and put his southpaw stance to perplexing use for the rest of the
bout.   Concepcion, also
125.5, appeared stymied at every turn and spent most of the night bobbing and
feinting from four or five feet away. 
When he did throw punches they were usually isolated shots that often
left him off-balance.  

Again and again Luevano, now 37-1-1 (15),
poked out his jab and crossed with his left.  Occasionally, he tossed a right hook in for good
measure.  But it was a drab affair
until Concepcion decided to take a cheap shot.  When the bell clanged three times to end round seven,
Luevano dropped his hands and nodded, with a smile, to his opponent in a
sporting gesture.  He was still
smiling when Concepcion brought over a vicious right hand–one of only a
handful of punches he landed the entire night–that dropped him flat on his
back with a sickening thud.  

Nady immediately disqualified Concepcion,
who trailed on two of the scorecards, with the third apparently turned in by the
ghost of William Moon.  

Claims that Concepcion did not hear the bell
are specious; after all, he heard the previous six bells and the bout was not
exactly staged in a cavernous arena overflowing with thousands.  Instead, it appeared that Concepcion
saw an opportunity to finally land a telling blow on an elusive target and took
it.  “The disqualification was
justified,” said his trainer, Freddie Roach. 

Luevano limped away with the victory, but,
at 28, appears to be past his physical peak.  Although he was decked by a punch after the bell, Luevano
was, indeed, knocked senseless, and he has now been floored in three of his
last four fights.   

As for Concepcion, now 29-2-1 (16), if he is
allowed to take sucker punches at all of his opponents between rounds he might some day become a force to be reckoned with.

In an interesting semi to the Nonito Donaire-Rafael Concepcion mismatch, workmanlike Steven Luevano faces a young but untested Bernabe Concepcion tonight for the WBX doohickey at the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas.

Luevano, fighting out of La Puente, California, is not often mentioned among the big names at the featherweight and junior lighweight divisions, but he has been fighting steadily since stopping Nicky Cook in 2007 to become one of at least 68 “world champions” in boxing and seems perfectly content to fight on pay-per-view undercards for modest purses.

Leuvano, 28, has looked somewhat rickety recently and it is possible that he has already reached his peak as a fighter. He was dropped by Mario Santiago during a brutal slugfest in 2008 and at times appeared on the verge of being stopped. He was lucky to emerge from that scrap with a draw. Against Terdsak Jandaeng, Leuvano was in control throughout until suffering a knockdown in the fourth round. He recovered to win a lopsided decision, although he was stunned on a few more occasions by big powershots. Finally, in his last fight, bizarre Billy Dib, whose style seems partly inspired by tarantism, made Luevano look sluggish over twelve rounds but was otherwise ineffective. Concepcion appears to be a much simpler puzzle to solve.

One thing is seems fairly certain: Luevano, the cautious boxer, will not score a knockout. He has stopped only one opponent, Nicky Cook, in five years and Concepcion, at 5’4″, appears to be the sturdy type. In fact, Luevano has gone at least 10 rounds on 10 consecutive occasions. This may account for how jaded Leuvano has looked over the last year or so.

Concepcion, 29-1-1 (16), is alleged to possess serious power, but that cannot truly be determined due to the poor quality of opposition he has been abusing. Luevano has faced by far the better competition. Besides Cook and Santiago, Luevano has also defeated Cristobal Cruz. For his part, Concepcion owns victories over part-time plugger Gabriel Elizondo and chinny Adam Carrera. He has also beaten a slew of journeyman Filipinos. With such a thin resume in hand, it is hard to determine what, exactly, Concepcion will bring to the ring with him on Saturday aside from shoes, trunks, a mouthpiece, and a pair of gloves.

Nothing indicates that Concepcion, 21, belongs in the ring with Luevano at this point: Concepcion is slow of foot, defensively shaky, fairly unimaginative in the ring, and inexperienced. He also looked raw and occasionally ragged against inadequate Giovanni Caro before scoring a sudden knockout last year.

The only real x-factor going into this bout is how well Leuvano can hold up physically to a determined challenge from an aggressive opponent. On the other hand, this match appears, at first glance, to be a meeting of two fighters going in opposite directions. The outcome depends on the rate of acceleration for each. It looks like Leuvano, 36-1-1 (15), is going downhill at a slower pace than Concepcion is going uphill. Luevano should be able to use his boxing skills and southpaw stance, along with a jab primed for overtime use, to cop a narrow decision.

In the main event of a Top Rank pay-per-view card at the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas, Nonito Donaire continues to mark time by facing limited Rafael Concepcion for the interim junior bantamweight WPLJ gewgaw. Concepcion is ineligible to win the trinket after failing to make the weight limit by 4 ½ pounds. Donaire, who will be moving up a half-division from flyweight for this bout, has not done much to capitalize on his spectacular KO of Vic Darchinyan in 2007 and this bout appears to fit in nicely with his current holding pattern.

Concepcion, 13-3-1 (8), appears to be wildly overmatched against the talented sharpshooter Donaire. Fast hands, fine boxing skills, and pop in either hand make Donaire, 21-1 (14), tough going for any quality fighter from 112-118 pounds. The question here is whether Concepcion falls under the category of “quality.” Probably not. Concepcion is a double tough brawler, honest and earnest, no doubt, but he is going from the basement and into the penthouse Saturday night and has no idea how to tie a Windsor knot. His upset win over AJ Banal in 2008, however, showed how far courage and determination can take a fighter. Concepcion bored in furiously and eventually overwhelmed his more skilled opponent. He has a potent left hook and works the body in the clinches with something like a religious fervor.

Unfortunately, he will be a facing a fighter with far too much class for him to maul. Donaire looked brilliant playing wrecking ball to the undefeated record of Raul Martinez in April, scoring four knockdowns en route to a 4^th round TKO.

That Concepcion, 27, failed to make the junior bantamweight limit is no surprise. After losing his title to shaky Jorge Arce in a spectacular fracas last September, Concepcion retuned to the ring weighing 127 pounds for his next fight. Against mummified Kermin Guardia in February, Concepcion weighed in at 120 pounds. If he drained himself to get down to 119 1/2 pounds, as his team claims, then the task ahead of him will be even more arduous.

Donaire should handle Concepcion with ease, stopping the rugged Panamanian some time during the later rounds.