(Note: This originally came out on May 9, 2022, in PNM.)

by Mark Lorenzana

The last time I saw Saúl “Canelo” Álvarez really hurt and in serious trouble inside the boxing ring was against José Miguel Cotto, the older and less-accomplished brother of multiple-time world champion and recent International Boxing Hall of Fame inductee Miguel Angel Cotto.

In that fight, the shorter Cotto stormed out of the gate swinging, determined to hunt down Álvarez and take the fight to him. But Canelo, who opted to play the calculating matador to the aggressive and onrushing Puerto Rican bull, was having success early on at taming Cotto’s rushes. After all, Álvarez was younger, taller and rangier, and this left Cotto mostly punching air and hitting Canelo’s gloves.

Until the 1:26 mark of the opening round, that is.

Álvarez threw a left straight, right cross and left uppercut combo that mostly missed and then backed up near the corner to try to stymie another Cotto assault, when the Puerto Rican connected flush with a short left hook to the Mexican’s uncovered face. This immediately wobbled Álvarez, who bounced against the ropes and continued to absorb punches from the emboldened Cotto. Álvarez staggered around the ring for the remainder of the first round, obviously hurt, with Cotto in hot pursuit, but failing to capitalize and, ultimately, let Canelo off the hook.

This proved to be Cotto’s undoing as Canelo found his range and capitalized on his height and reach to win the fight by technical knockout in the ninth round.

That fight was for the lightly regarded North American Boxing Federation (NABF) Welterweight Championship.

What’s amazing, at least to me, was that it happened in 2010, when Álvarez was just two months shy of his twentieth birthday.

That was — as far as I remember, and I may be wrong — the last time I saw Saúl “Canelo” Álvarez really hurt and in serious trouble inside the boxing ring.

What makes this feat even more incredible is the fact that Álvarez, thereafter, eventually proceeded to go up in weight multiple times to face harder punchers and better boxers than — and no offense to him — José Miguel Cotto: Carlos Baldomir, Alfredo Angulo, Erislandy Lara, Kermit Cintron, Shane Mosley, Floyd Mayweather Jr., the younger Cotto, Gennady Golovkin (twice) and Sergey Kovalev. That ledger is impressive; that list includes current, former and future boxing hall of famers and perpetual contenders.

After that hard-earned fight with José Miguel Cotto, Canelo went on a tear: winning 25 fights, drawing one (against Golovkin) and dropping another (a decision loss to Mayweather, one of the all-time greats, a loss that something any fighter worth his salt would be loathe to be ashamed about). In that span, Álvarez picked up titles at middleweight, super middleweight and light heavyweight, along with a second junior middleweight title reign after losing to Mayweather.

Indeed, before the fight with Dmitry Bivol for the Russian champion’s World Boxing Association (WBO) light heavyweight belt last Saturday night, May 7, Canelo Álvarez has looked virtually unbeatable.

That air of invincibility, however, would come crashing down.

Coming into the fight, oddsmakers had installed Álvarez as the five-to-one favorite over Bivol, but the Russian had other things in mind.

(An aside: Bivol might have been the underdog, but he was still the bigger man; after all, it was Canelo who was coming up in weight to challenge him. In other words, the Russian was a live underdog in that fight. Not as big of a long shot compared to Kentucky Derby winner Rich Strike, the horse that won a stunning upset — also last Saturday — despite being an 80-1 underdog. Rich Strike wasn’t even in the field until last Friday, May 6, when another colt was scratched from the race, but the thoroughbred came from behind to win America’s greatest horse race, pulling off one of the biggest shocks in Kentucky Derby history. That’s another story, though — or perhaps another column? What can I say? I love rooting for the underdog.)

In the opening round, Canelo started off fast, with guns blazing. He stalked Bivol and was the aggressor, coming forward and landing power shots both to the head and body of the taller Russian. Álvarez continued his assault in the second and third rounds, and looked to cruise to another comfortable decision victory. But then Bivol started to assert himself.

In the fourth round onward, Bivol began to use his superb boxing skills to frustrate Álvarez; the Russian has good hand speed for his size, and when he started stringing combinations together, the Mexican started to buckle a bit under the onslaught.

“I did feel his power,” Álvarez admitted in a post-fight interview.

In the middle rounds, Álvarez also seemed to run out of steam. His body language was telling: leaning on the ropes and letting Bivol unload on him, throwing nothing in return as the Russian fired off punch after punch, and also dropping his guard for most of the rounds, especially the latter minutes of the rounds — a sign of a gassed fighter trying to catch his breath.

Álvarez tried to rally in the later rounds, but it wasn’t enough. In the end, all three judges scored the fight 115-113 for Bivol.

“No excuses,” Álvarez said. “I think that’s what happens in the sport of boxing — you win or lose. That’s the sport, and that’s what happened. He’s a very good fighter.”

A very good, bigger fighter. There’s an old adage in boxing: A good big man always beats a good little man. At least on that night, this old adage rang true. As much as fighters want to flout weight classes in their quest for greatness — think not only Canelo and Mayweather as the guilty parties, but also Manny Pacquiao and Henry Armstrong — these weight classes exist, after all, for a reason.

Álvarez must have felt what José Miguel Cotto felt those many years ago, but this time with the situation reversed.

“I’m glad I proved myself. I’m the best in my division and I get to keep this belt,” said Bivol. “He’s a great champion, I respect him and all his team.”

The Mexican, however, is looking to bounce back as soon as he can. “Of course I do,” Álvarez answered when asked if he wanted a rematch. “It can’t end like this.”

Saúl “Canelo” Álvarez had been on cloud nine for the past several fights now, owing to his dominance in climbing several weight divisions and leaving bigger opponents bloodied and beaten in his wake. It took a skilled champion, the bigger and equally talented Dmitry Bivol, who was also a five-to-one underdog, to bring the Mexican sensation down to Earth — at least for now.

(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)

by Mark Lorenzana

This year alone we’ve seen several controversial decisions in boxing: Jeff Horn winning an upset over Manny Pacquiao in Australia, Wisaksil Wangek Rungvisai dealing the once-invincible Roman “Chocolatito” Gonzalez his first loss (and his second, via knockout, in the rematch but that’s another story—or blog post), and Saul Canelo Alvarez and Gennady Golovkin settling for a draw (after an exciting fight that lived up to its expectations as one of the most must-see bouts of 2017 between two of the best middleweight fighters in the game today).

But that’s the thing, and there goes the rub: the reality is, boxing is a very difficult sport to judge, as everything is subject to one’s own personal interpretation (add to that the fact that personal biases also come into play).

For instance, I remember back when Manny Pacquiao fought Tim Bradley for the first time; I scored that fight a close victory for Bradley and in the immediate aftermath posted my thoughts on social media. I was horrified and aghast, however, when I saw the reactions on social media/blog posts from boxing analysts immediately after the fight—they claimed that Pacquiao, indeed, should have won.

Majority of the boxing writers saw Pacquiao winning that bout, with only a couple of scribes giving the nod to Bradley, one of whom is highly respected veteran boxing journalist and author Thomas Hauser. To be honest, it made me feel a little better that a writer of Hauser’s caliber got it “wrong.” I was still contributing to boxing websites at that time and was even a resident boxing/MMA writer in one of the sports websites in the Philippines when that happened (and also ran, on the side, an award-nominated sports blog that is now since defunct), so I was understandably upset. I immediately put out a blog post explaining what happened and why I thought Bradley won that fight and admitted that it was an off night for me, scoring-wise. Regardless, the “damage” was already done—both to my nonexistent credibility as an unknown boxing/MMA “analyst” and to my ego as a “writer.”

So let me ask you: in a fight between a defensive-minded counterpuncher and an aggressive brawler or boxer-puncher, which style are you going to favor? Are you going to lean toward that aggressive, come-forward fighter who throws many punches, more punches than the defensive fighter, even if those punches miss a lot and hit nothing but air and/or the opponent’s arms or gloves? Or are you going to lean toward the counterpuncher, especially if he lands the cleaner blows, even though he doesn’t throw as much as his more aggressive opponent?

Take the Manny Pacquiao-Floyd Mayweather fight. I know quite a few knowledgeable boxing fans from the Philippines who believed that Pacquiao should have won that fight, even though he wasn’t the unstoppable whirlwind of years ago who humiliated Oscar de la Hoya, one-punch-kayoed Ricky Hatton, TKO’d Miguel Cotto, punished the bigger and stronger Antonio Margarito in the course of 12 brutal rounds (and broke his orbital bone), made Sugar Shane Mosley and Joshua Clottey forget about their own offense just to survive, and broke Juan Manuel Marquez’s nose in the last fight of their epic four-fight saga before getting knocked out himself because of his recklessness. Pacquiao had stalked Mayweather the entire fight, and Mayweather being Mayweather fought a brilliant defensive fight for 12 rounds, landing the cleaner shots even though he threw fewer punches. I scored that fight for Mayweather, who unsurprisingly won via unanimous decision. Immediately after the fight, when Pacquiao was interviewed in the ring by HBO’s Max Kellerman, Manny said he thought he won the fight, to Kellerman’s surprise. Freddie Roach, for his part, was more diplomatic but hinted that his fighter indeed lost the fight.

With the Pacquiao-Horn fight, I gave Pacquiao the nod by two rounds, as I felt that it was indeed a close fight but that the Filipino did enough to retain his belt. Immediately after the fight, though, there were howls of protests that Pacquiao should have won a wide decision (I didn’t understand that, though, as, like I said, I felt that it was a close fight). Bob Arum, for his part, thought that it could have gone either way (although it’s understandable for Arum to feel that way because he promotes both fighters); and Freddie Roach, although he said he thought that Pacquiao should have won, never protested the decision vehemently and even went so far as to suggest that Manny’s retirement isn’t that far off, perhaps believing that his prized pupil could have done more but was hampered by the physical deterioration in the ring brought about by age (after all, when was the last time Pacquiao looked like the relentless dynamo of yesteryears that gobbled up his opponents?), his senate “responsibilities” that limited his training and his sparring, and the comforts of the high life that almost always affects a boxer’s hunger to train and to destroy his opponent (a problem that Roach has actually harped on for several years now, what with Pacquiao’s penchant for letting the judges decide the outcome of his bouts, with his killer instinct seemingly evaporating into thin air after his impressive TKO win over Miguel Cotto an eternity ago). The point is, perhaps the judges in the Pacquiao-Horn fight felt that the latter’s aggressiveness and, yes, his seemingly “dirty” tactics helped neutralize the former’s once-impressive offensive attacks—indeed, aside from a ninth round where Horn was close to hitting the canvas, Pacquiao for the most part was often stymied by the bigger, stronger, and “dirtier” fighter who didn’t mind taking a page out of the MMA stylebook and repeatedly used his forearms, shoulders, head, and even his elbows to his advantage.

With the Rungvisai-Chocolatito fight, I scored the fight for Chocolatito but also admitted to myself that the Nicaraguan, one of my favorite fighters of recent years, didn’t look as sharp as he had been, especially when he was still campaigning in the lower weights and blasting all comers, making a case for himself as one of the best pound-for-pound fighters in the world. In that fight, the bigger and stronger Rungvisai never let Gonzalez intimidate him and, like Horn, decided to make it hard for Chocolatito by resorting to borderline illegal tactics to frustrate the Nicaraguan. And, to the judges at least, it worked—they thought the Thai did enough that night to wrest the titles away from Gonzalez. Perhaps the judges thought that Gonzalez, being the brilliant fighter that he was, should have been his always-impressive self and that anything less than Chocolatito blasting away Rungvisai was not enough for him to retain his belts? Was Chocolatito unfairly judged because of the lofty standards that he set for himself and that, because he failed to live up to these standards, the opponent was judged “good” enough and therefore deserving enough of the win?

With the Canelo-Golovkin fight, I thought that Canelo won by a couple of rounds although I don’t think that a draw is unreasonable, as well as a scorecard that awarded Golovkin a win by two or three rounds, because the fight I saw was a close fight wherein GGG was the aggressor throughout but with Canelo banking on his better boxing skills, much-improved movement, and superb counterpunching to land the cleaner blows. (I have a problem with Adalaide Byrd’s card, though, that only saw Golovkin winning two rounds; it’s a fucking travesty that deserves its own separate blog post). With that said, a lot of people also saw Golovkin winning by a wide margin, because of the way they perceive how a fighter should fight in order to win: go forward and attack, attack, attack. This is not a wrong way of seeing things, as it is also not wrong to favor the fighter who, although is backpedaling and moving and counterpunching, lands the cleaner blows and is perceived to be outboxing his opponent. Personally, I thought Golovkin missed a lot and wasted a lot of punches.

Boxing decisions will continue to be controversial as long as the judges themselves have their own perception of what a winning fighter should do in order to deserve the nod. After all, we all have our own way of seeing things (and not seeing things, for that matter)—even the most seasoned boxing judge, who’s had hundreds of title fights under his/her belt.

But Juan Manuel Marquez knew the perfect remedy for that, though, after being on the short end of the stick three times against Manny Pacquiao—just go for the damn knockout.