For
his 2012 fight against longtime junior featherweight champion
Toshiaki Nishioka, and the very tasty Brandon Rios-Mike Alvarado undercard matchup, I was compelled to leave my comfy East Coast
environs and make my first boxing trip to Southern California.
Donaire was on quite a run, unforgettably knocking out Fernando Montiel in a
bantamweight unification fight, forcing longtime junior bantamweight
champion Omar Narvaez to hide behind his gloves and moving up to 122
to dispatch former champion Wilfredo Vazquez, Jr. and then-titlist
Jeffrey Mathebula.
In
Donaire I saw a tantalizing display of hand speed, boxing skill and knockout
power. To my eyes, he had already elevated himself to the rarified air of
the top-five fighters in the sport. I knew that Nishioka would be a real
opponent, someone who featured caginess, power, hand speed and ring
intelligence.
And
while most remember the fight of the year candidate
between Rios and Alvarado from that October night, Donaire-Nishioka provided me with all sorts of joy.
From the second round on, I saw one of the proudest champions in the sport
practically refuse to engage. Donaire dropped Nishioka in the sixth round with
a beautiful left uppercut, a fact that excited me in so much that it was
a punch that wasn't often featured in his arsenal. In the ninth round, Donaire ended the
fight in perhaps one of the best sequences of his career. Facing an opponent
who wouldn't open up, Donaire planted himself along the ropes, practically
begging for Nishioka to attack him. Within a few seconds, Donaire landed a
perfectly timed counter right hand and Nishioka was sent spiraling to the
canvas. Nishioka's corner soon stopped the fight.
That
sequence showed me a new side of Donaire, who often could get frustrated in the
ring and lose focus. Here, he figured out how to best an opponent who was
intelligent, capable and unwilling to let his hands go. The catcalls which Donaire
had heard after the Narvaez fight shifted to cheers after the Nishioka knockout.
That fight was Donaire putting it all together. He demonstrated that he
could not just counter but also lead. He also featured his wide arsenal of
punches and didn't get too left-hook happy. This was a truly great fighter and
someone whom I was happy to witness ply his trade live.
After
an obligatory early knockout of an overmatched Jorge Arce, the stage was set
for Donaire to face his next significant threat, Guillermo
Rigondeaux, the legendary Cuban amateur who had won his first world
championship in just his ninth pro contest.
Coming
into the fight, Donaire was seemingly on top of the world. He was the consensus
2012 Fighter of the Year and was making excellent purses. Quickly he had
established himself as one of the faces of HBO Boxing. Yet, there were many who
thought that Rigondeaux had the style to present huge problems for him. By
fight night, Donaire was only a slight betting favorite. Once
again, I was compelled to see Donaire in person. This time it was a far more
palatable commute up the Jersey Turnpike to Manhattan.
What followed was a pure
master class from Rigondeaux, who timed Donaire perfectly with lead and counter
left hands. Using his brilliant footwork, Rigondeaux skated away from trouble
throughout most of the fight; he was the one clearly dictating the terms of the
match. Donaire couldn't find a clear way to initiate offense. He spent much of
the fight either following Rigondeaux around the ring listlessly or swinging wildly
with his left hook and right hand.
As
the rounds continued to pile up in Rigondeaux's favor, Donaire seemed to have
no concrete plan in how to turn the tide in his favor. Even after knocking the
Cuban down in the 10th, he proceeded to lose much of the remaining round and
the subsequent moments of the fight. I scored the fight 116-111 and I may have
even been generous to Donaire. For an elite-caliber boxer, it was a dreadful
performance.
During
the fight, trainer Robert Garcia gave Donaire instructions about how he should initiate
offense, but Donaire was unwilling to respond in the ring; there was a clear
fissure between trainer and fighter. It was a major failure by both in that
there was no real Plan B; I'm not sure that there was a definitive Plan A.
When
things were going well in Donaire's recent run of excellence, few made note of his bizarre training
regimen, whereby Garcia, only traveled up to Northern
California on the weekends and during the week Donaire worked with
his own people and contacted Garcia only by phone. After the Rigondeaux fight,
Donaire admitted that he undertrained and didn't study his
opponent.
In hindsight, dropping a decision to a fighter of Rigondeaux's caliber wasn't a great calamity, but how easily Donaire accepted defeat was far more problematic. There was no great stand from a proud champion,
which we have come to expect from the best in the sport. What we got instead
was Donaire going out with a whimper. He didn't take the risks needed to change
the fight. Even after the knockdown, he soon went back to caution. Ultimately,
there was a shortage of pride. It seemed that he had made peace with his
impending defeat.
HBO
and Top Rank were very much in the Nonito Donaire business, so they were nice
enough to provide him with Vic Darchinyan as his next opponent, a fighter whom he
had destroyed in the fifth round of a bout six years prior. Darchinyan, a
southpaw slugger who had been receiving pound-for-pound consideration before
facing Donaire the first time, wasn't able to defend himself adequately against
Donaire's power or speed in 2007. That win catapulted Donaire into the higher echelon
of boxers, a position that he had not relinquished until the Rigondeaux fight.
In
the lead-up to the Darchinyan rematch, Donaire was surprisingly candid about his waning
passion for boxing and his inadequate preparation for Rigondeaux. He hoped to
turn it around against Darchinyan but even he wasn't sure that he had the necessary desire to get back to the top.
Saturday's
rematch was a strange affair. Darchinyan made some key adjustments, not
lunging in with shots and fighting at a more measured pace. He had success early by firing his shots from a low angle, avoiding Donaire's counter left hook. Donaire moved his hands only sporadically and rarely threw more than one shot at a
time. He was looking to land knockout punches with his left hook or right hand and
felt no need to try and set them up.
Darchinyan
was seven years older but fought as the younger and hungrier boxer. He was
making a concerted effort to win rounds and prove that he could best his
nemesis from years prior. Donaire was getting tagged
throughout the fight by Darchinyan's left hand. Not only was Donaire fighting
with less-than-maximum effort, but his reflexes look like they had
regressed as well.
Going
into the ninth round, I had Donaire and Darchinyan even. Donaire won his share
of rounds in my opinion by landing harder shots during exchanges, but many of
those rounds were close. Meanwhile, Darchinyan notched his frames more
definitively by outworking his opponent (two of the judges had Donaire down big
and one also had the fight even).
Donaire
was able to end things in the ninth with a punishing left hook
that sent Darchinyan to the canvas and a series of follow up
shots with Darchinyan trapped along the ropes. In those brief moments, Donaire
saved what was left of his career and finished a wounded opponent like a champ,
but boxing observers knew what they had witnessed in the rounds prior to
the conclusive ninth.
Still
lacking hunger, Donaire's performance was desultory and lacked passion. His
body looked soft at featherweight and he almost completely neglected his
considerable boxing skills in favor of one-punch solutions. Donaire was no
longer an excitement to see in the ring; he was suddenly a grizzled vet hoping
to survive on the muscle memory of his power shots.
Even at his best, Donaire had his foibles as a fighter, but they were mostly from caring too much; he wanted to be spectacular and give fans an unbelievable knockout. Now, he looked like he was just going through the motions. His sense of regard was almost a reverse of his halcyon days.
I
didn't travel this weekend to watch Donaire live and I bet
that I won't ever do so again. I'm happy that I was able to witness that
wonderful night he had in California just over a year ago. I knew what I saw that night, a truly great fighter.
But I also quite clearly realize what he has now become.
Greatness
can be so ephemeral in boxing. Within one short year, a fighter of the
year can devolve into a middling talent; a pound-for-pound entrant can make one question
how he was once ever an elite boxer.
Most
often we equate slippage with a fighter as a result of the abuse that he has
taken in the ring and/or the many wars that have zapped his faculties. But for
Donaire, this is clearly not the case. Only 30, he has been in very few tough
fights and has very seldom lost rounds prior to the Rigondeaux match.
However,
the psychological edge needed for greatness has left Donaire. The
best in the sport don't take opponents lightly. They train hard for every
match and ensure that their body is in top condition. The elite know that the competition is coming for them and that they must continue to improve; there is always room to get better in the ring.
Donaire
reached the top echelon of the boxing universe and coasted. Reading his own
headlines and convinced of his superhuman strength, training and preparation
became more of a chore for him. His love of the sport diminished. His role as a
family man shifted the priorities in his life.
These
psychological components or intangibles aren't talked about as much as the
in-ring action but they are just as important in determining how far fighters
will go in the sport. Donaire, like many others before him, hit his point
where outside interests became more important than boxing. He had an excellent
five-year run, featuring many highlight-reel knockouts and
impressive victories, but the days of him ruling the lower weights are almost certainly over.
Donaire
himself may not be sad about this development. He put in his time to the sport
and achieved wonderful results in four weight classes. He made the boxing
world care about bantamweights and flyweights, divisions often ignored by
mainstream boxing fans and media. He provided for
his family and made a good living.
It's
always upsetting to see once-great fighters regress or deteriorate. It
reinforces thoughts about mortality and the vicious nature of sport, not to mention life.
Yet Donaire's story isn't a tragic one (at this point). He made his bones in
the sport and was a success story. Absent a complete rededication to boxing, I hope he hangs the
gloves up sooner rather than later.
******************************************************
Mikey
Garcia is 33-0 with 28 knockouts. He has amassed titles in two divisions and many
consider him to be one of the more promising young fighters on the boxing landscape, if not already among the top-20 fighters in the sport. However, I feel that he is still far from hitting his ceiling. To my eyes, he has yet to put
together a complete performance against a top opponent (I'm not counting Juan
Manuel Lopez, who had already been clearly cooked coming into their fight).
In
November of last year, Garcia faced former titlist Jonathan Barros, who was a late
replacement for the injured Orlando Salido. Barros had a smart game plan of using his jab
and quick combinations from the outside to keep Garcia at bay; Garcia struggled at many points
to find the right distance and timing. Going into the eighth round, I only had Garcia up
one point. He was able to end things with a pulverizing knockout later that
round but I wasn't overly enthralled with his performance.
Earlier
this year, Garcia faced Salido and started out like gangbusters, dropping him
four times. Garcia's counters were razor sharp and his accuracy, power and ring intelligence
were something to behold (I was fortunate enough to see this performance live).
But something happened by the sixth round. Salido just wouldn't go away and he
started to have success landing his right hand from range. Suddenly, Garcia
seemed less confident in the ring. In the eighth, Garcia suffered a nasty gash
from a head butt. Knowing that he was ahead comfortably on the scorecards,
he and his team took full advantage of the rules and claimed that he was
unable to continue. He was awarded a decision on the scorecards, but the ending
of that fight left something to be desired. It was a strange way to win his
first title.
On
Saturday, he was dropped early by Roman Martinez. In the ensuing
rounds, he cautiously picked up points by being more accurate and
highlighting the defensive aspects of his game. Finally in the sixth round, he
started to unleash his power shots and his fireworks were impressive. Pinpoint
counter right hands and left hooks crushed Martinez. Garcia used his jab to
initiate thundering combinations. In short time, Martinez was unable to defend
himself from the offensive onslaught. Garcia landed a menacing left hook to the
body in the eighth and Martinez was down for good, giving Mikey his second
title.
Growing
up in a boxing family, Garcia's ring I.Q. and veteran savvy far belie his 25
years. He initially had the reputation of almost being too cool in the ring,
perhaps lacking the passion or fire needed to be a top talent. And make no mistake;
he can be very cautious in the squared circle.
To this point, he has faced a
number of very good fighters, but he has yet to meet an elite opponent and may not
for a while as the 130-lb. division is relatively weak, outside of Takashi
Uchiyama, a Japanese slugger who has yet to leave his homeland for a fight.
Garcia has all the tools and talent to ascend to the highest
reaches of the sport, but, for me, it's too early to suggest that he will
achieve greatness in the ring. I'm still waiting for him to put it all together against top competition.
For
now, Garcia can continue to consolidate his skills and work on defeating
opponents with different styles and dimensions. For me, the true evaluation of Garcia's future will be
in how he handles duress. Yes, I was impressed with how he recovered after being
knocked down by Martinez on Saturday – it was more of a flash
knockdown – but he responded well. But what will happen when Garcia faces the
power of the Uchiyama or the pure hand speed of Terence Crawford? Does
Garcia possess the ability to will himself to victory? Can he fight six rounds
with a bad cut or a broken hand? We don't yet know these answers and until we
do, we can marvel at Garcia's impressive skills and savvy and speculate
on how high he might one day ascend in the sport, but at this point it's just conjecture. Greatness
may one day be there for him, but it's not there yet.
Adam Abramowitz is the head writer and founder of saturdaynightboxing.com.
He is also a member of the Transnational Boxing Rankings Board.
Contact Adam at saturdaynightboxing@hotmail.com
@snboxing on twitter
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