(Note: This originally came out on May 2, 2022, in PNM.)

by Mark Lorenzana

“I want to be one of the greatest Mexican fighters of all time.”

This was the confident answer of Óscar Valdez Jr. — a two-time Olympian who represented Mexico in Beijing 2008 and again in London in 2012 — when asked at a pre-fight interview before his scheduled bout against World Boxing Organization (WBO) super featherweight champion Shakur Stevenson what he wanted his legacy to be in boxing. And he certainly looked the part when Valdez met fellow Mexican Miguel “Alacran” Berchelt in the ring on Feb. 20, 2021, to challenge Berchelt for his World Boxing Council (WBC) super featherweight title.

In that fight, Valdez — originally from Nogales in the northern Mexican state of Sonora,but now fighting out of Tucson, Arizona — flattened Berchelt, the odds-on favorite. With a minute and 10 seconds remaining in the ninth round, Valdez landed a hybrid right overhand-uppercut followed by a left hook that dropped Berchelt, who recovered well after the knockdown to keep on fighting.

The end, though, came a round later when an aggressive and desperate Berchelt, trying to score a knockout, lunged and left himself wide open, absorbing a crushing left hook from Valdez that deposited him to the canvas. There would be no recovering for Berchelt, after that devastating shot; Valdez was crowned the WBC super featherweight champion that night.

Valdez, however, wasn’t expected to duplicate that feat against Stevenson, who himself picked up his super featherweight strap in impressive fashion by dominating erstwhile WBO champion Jamel Herring in October of last year en route to a 10th-round technical-knockout victory. Berchelt, like Valdez, has dynamite in his fists, but he doesn’t quite possess the ring savvy of a Stevenson — an Olympian in his own right, who represented the United States at the 2016 Summer Olympics in Río de Janeiro.

On the one hand, Berchelt is a jackhammer who keeps on coming, overwhelming opponents through sheer blunt-force trauma. But Berchelt’s come-forward style can also be his undoing, as evidenced by that well-placed counterpunch that Valdez used to knock Alacran out in their fight. Stevenson fights at his own pace — and forces you to fight at his own pace. Pure pressure fighters — in the mold of the aforementioned Berchelt, as well as, to an extent, Valdez — like to keep their opponents on the defensive end all night long, while fighters like Stevenson with a high ring IQ can adjust to an opponents’ fighting style and make you fight their fight.

Which was exactly what unfolded when Shakur Stevenson finally traded leather with Óscar Valdez Jr. on the night of Saturday, April 30, at the MGM Grand Garden Arena in Las Vegas for their unification bout, with both fighters’ titles on the line, in addition to the Ring Magazine super featherweight belt.

It was evident at the outset who would control the fight. The 31-year-old Valdez came out at the opening bell eager — too eager, perhaps — as the Newark, New Jersey–native Stevenson, seven years younger, made him miss and miss badly. (One of those bad misses caused Valdez to slip and stumble and fall to the canvas in the first round.) While Valdez appeared overeager, sometimes lost, Stevenson controlled the distance with a crisp and effective jab.

It was also evident who the bigger fighter was. At the weigh-in the day before, it didn’t really matter as both fighters — like any other boxer well-versed in the art of making weight — did their darn best to dehydrate to make the 130-pound limit, with Valdez weighing a shade below at 129 pounds and Stevenson just making it. On fight night, however, the five-foot-five-inch Valdez looked every inch like a 130-pound super featherweight soaking wet, while the five-foot-seven-inch Stevenson, completely rehydrated, seemed like he had the frame of a full-fledged welterweight. It didn’t help that Stevenson also had a two-inch reach advantage.

This reach advantage Stevenson utilized to the hilt, as he smartly pumped his jab and confused Valdez all night. The bigger Stevenson also had more pop in his shots, as he repeatedly peppered Valdez with power punches: An accurate straight left, and powerful hooks and uppercuts that the American unleashed while on the inside but also, impressively, while backpedaling whenever the Mexican tried to put on the pressure — which lasted the entire 12 rounds, a testament to Valdez’s stamina. The problem for Valdez: It wasn’t effective aggression.

Stevenson punctuated his power advantage in the sixth round when he sent Valdez sprawling to the canvas with a left uppercut to the head. By the championship rounds, Valdez had a mouse under his left eye, a cut below his right eye, and redness and swelling on his forehead; Stevenson was mostly untouched.

In the end, Valdez simply had no answer for Stevenson. Two of the ringside judges scored it 118-109 in favor of Stevenson, while a third saw it 117-110 for the American.

“He is a tough champion, but I was prepared to beat him,” Stevenson said in an interview after the fight. “This victory means everything to me,” he added. “I told you what I would do, and I did it. Valdez is tough, rugged and has power. But I’m ready for anyone, I want all the belts.”

Valdez, for his part, acknowledged that he was bested by Stevenson, at least on that night.

“He has a very great boxing quality, and today he was the best in the ring,” Valdez said. “He moves very well. He’s a champion. He has speed. He’s a great boxer.”

Valdez also apologized to his countrymen.

“I tried to bring the belts to Mexico. I’m sorry, we tried,” he said.

Let’s be clear: A champion who gave all he could against a younger, taller, bigger, stronger and faster opponent has nothing to be ashamed of, or to apologize for.

But being one of the greatest Mexican fighters of all time?

That, unfortunately, would have to wait.

by Mark Lorenzana

I used to cover Manny Pacquiao a lot back when I was still writing seriously about boxing and mixed martial arts for Interaksyon, for a couple of boxing websites, and for my now-defunct fight blog. This was before Pacquiao entered politics for the first time, running for a seat in the Philippine house of representatives in the May 2007 legislative election, aiming to represent the first district of South Cotabato province.

Pacquiao was eventually defeated in the election by then-incumbent representative Darlene Antonino-Custodio, who said, “More than anything, I think people weren’t prepared to lose him as their boxing icon.”

I remember, back then, Pacquiao was extremely disappointed about the loss and chalked it up to his lack of a college degree at that time (he has since earned his degree in political science, graduating from the University of Makati last year). But I agree with Antonino-Custodio: I believe that Pacquiao’s fans didn’t want to see him swallowed up and corrupted by politics.

Before running for congress, Pacquiao had already avenged his loss to Erik Morales, both by stoppage. He had already upset Marco Antonio Barrera and had fought Juan Manuel Marquez to a draw in a barnburner of a fight that saw Pacquiao drop Marquez three times in the first round. Pacquiao’s stock was going up, and the future was bright for him, boxing-wise. Why try to derail that by entering politics?

Pacquiao’s fans heaved a huge sigh of relief when their idol lost in the 2007 elections, but it was short-lived. Manny eventually won a congressional seat, but this time in Sarangani, the hometown of his wife, Jinkee. Now he is a senator, having won a seat in the Philippine senate in 2016.

In my short-lived career as a boxing writer, I had to write about Pacquiao a lot, not only because he was one of the hottest commodities in the sport—he’s eventually become boxing’s only eight-division champion—but also because my boss in one of the boxing websites I was writing for demanded that I write about Pacquiao 24/7, even though I wanted to write about other fighters, about other fights. This led me to quit my job there, but that’s another story.

The point here is, as much as his fans never wanted Pacquiao to enter politics—this blogger included—he has shown that he could actually juggle being a politician and being a boxer well (or maybe not: Pacquiao is actually the top absentee in the senate). Could he have reached even greater heights as purely a boxer instead of as a boxer-slash-politician? Hard to say. Pacquiao, both in and out of the ring, thrives on chaos: inside the ring he’s a whirling dervish of energy, his in-and-out, side-to-side movement and the nonstop pumping of his fists having brought him much success in his boxing career; outside the ring his love for chaos—evidenced by a huge entourage of hangers-on (which have included unsavory political allies) and the unbelievable ability to juggle, as well, not only sports (including basketball; he was once a playing coach for the Philippine Basketball Association) and politics, but also show business (he has made a couple movies and hosted several TV shows)—has brought him, ironically, much peace of mind. Sure, some have argued that a couple of Pacquiao’s losses here and there could have been the result of the Pacman stretching himself thin, but in the end it’s only speculation.

Especially since, in the course of his last three fights, Pacquiao has strung up three straight wins—a stoppage victory against Lucas Matthysse and two impressive distance victories against Adrien Broner and Keith Thurman, where Pacquiao even scored a knockdown early in the fight against the latter—since losing his fight against Jeff Horn in Australia. Pacquiao’s recent resurgence isn’t something new, even at the ripe age of forty-one, as bouncing back from a loss has been a trademark throughout his career: after his first loss early in his career to fellow Filipino Rustico Torrecampo, Pacquiao won fifteen straight; after getting stopped in Thailand back in 1999 and losing his WBC world flyweight title, he managed to string thirteen victories; after losing a hard-fought decision to Morales, Pacquiao managed to string another fifteen-fight winning streak.

But it remains to be seen whether Pacquiao will continue fighting, especially since the sports world right now—apart from the odd live Ultimate Fighting Championship events held every few weeks—is at a standstill.

But Pacquiao being Pacquiao, he can’t seem to find solace from the limelight. Just recently he figured in a couple of news items: one, Freddie Roach throwing out there that Manny could possibly fight middleweight champion Gennady Golovkin and two, Bob Arum saying that Manny could possibly run as president of the Philippines in 2022.

Speculation, of course, but God forbid that both push through—especially the second. We all know that Pacquiao won’t be a good president. Don’t believe F. Sionil Jose.

(Photo by Bleacher Report via)