Last night’s boxing matches at
Carson’s StubHub Center provided some sobering moments. For me, the sobering
moment occurred when Donito Donaire went down on his face under the thunder of
young Jamaican Nicholas Walters. I had “misoverestimated” (Yogi Berra word)
Donaire, who make no excuses for himself
for having the “*# beat out of me” in
a higher weight class than he was meant for. That is not to ignore the
power and skill of Walters.
Also sobering to fight promoters
who have been studiously avoiding Team Golovkin was the devastating 2nd
round KO of Marco Rubio (not the American politician) in front of an overfilled
stadium in Carson. The outcome was going
to be the outcome, but I didn’t expect it to come so early, even though most of
Golovkin’s opponents have been very sent home in time to do some night clubbing.
Boxing promoters like to hear themselves
talking and what they have for too long been talking about is how Golovkin was
somehow not up to American boxing standards.
The reason for this canard (that means “lie) is because they want so
badly to keep their golden boys, their money machines, their fighting ATMs from
being lowered in rank by a guy who is a devastating and intuitive puncher.
Aiding promoter delusion is the trope (like politician-speak) is that Golovkin
came from some weird country (Kazakhstan) “over there” that they can’t
pronounce.
Now, these promoters have become
laughing stocks, as no one believes in their fighters, not while happy-go-lucky
Golovkin goes around like a wrecking ball, demolishing the fortress minded
boxing establishment.
The only established guy who has
any balls in all this is Andre Ward, a superior middleweight by any definition.
Everyone else HBO interviewed about a
possible Golovkin fight tried to change the conversation to a discussion of the
weather. Ward and his people stepped up and said, yeah, they’d fight Golovkin
which shows that they are both smart and brave. Ward is the ONLY guy out there
who could beat Golovkin and that is because he is the right combination of
punching, ring smarts, and technique. He’s like a B-hop without the age bracket
around his neck.
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