Jalisco’s 21-year-old Saul “Canelo” Alvarez retained his WBC Light MiddleWeight Championship title, Saturday, May 5, defeating six-time world champion Shane Mosley. Mosley, at 40, had just begun to show the wear-and-tear of a long, successful career in his last three fights. Yet many pundits, especially in Mexico, had suggested Canelo would have trouble with Mosley’s well-known hard punching and ring savvy.
Among a group of friends watching the bout Saturday (four Mexicans, two gringos), the long, 2,000-year history and centuries of boxing literature on the sport were discussed before, during and after the fight. Boxing came to the United States early on — much later to Mexico — from England, which adopted the sport when the Romans invaded in the first century.
It’s not only the long list of superb British fighters that prompts admiration of England’s history of accomplishment in boxing, but the excellent written record regarding England’s early cultivation of organized prize fighting. (Pierce Egan’s four volume “Boxiana,” and “The Fight” by William Hazlitt, April 10, 1778-September 18, 1830, enter the conversation.)
In Mexico, informed aficionados point out that boxing was brought by British and U.S. sailors to communities along the Gulf of Mexico, getting a foothold in the early part of the 20th century. It had to compete with la corrida de Toros (bullfighting) and equestrian contests — both brought here by the conquistadores — which were hugely popular nationwide, and, in large cities, extravagantly presented.
In Britain, boxing began with the 55 B.C. arrival of the Romans, lead by Julius Caesar. The earliest forms of pugilism appeared afterwards. Bare knuckle and no-holds-barred (which meant wrestling was included) contests were first recorded there in the 1700s. These were tough bouts in which eye-gouging, choking, throwing and kicking were not prohibited. The ring was truly a ring then — never a square — made up of a circle of spectators. These bouts often lasted for hours until one of the participants couldn’t or chose not to continue. These contests were popular primarily with the working class of the British Isles, say historians. Often, they were a way of settling disputes.
Gradually the upper classes, even the royalty, became interested as they perceived bare knuckle confrontations as an “entertaining” way to wager money. Wealthy patrons often would even “hire” a successful, or a promising, pugilist to represent them. From this interest came the perceived need for rules. Next, wealthy sponsors began building small arenas, squaring the “ring.” Then they began financing schools for promising young men. Such schools prompted a new development: The notion of training in the “noble art of self defense,” possibly as an alternative to the lethal enthusiasm for dueling.The first recognized pugilistic “champion” was James Figg in 1719. New Yorker writer A.J. Liebling in the 1950s traced “rapport” with boxing history through a “laying on of hands.” Jack O’Brien had hit Liebling “for pedagogical example,” Liebling wrote, “and he had been hit by the great Bob Fitzimmons, from whom he won the light-heavy-weight title in 1906.” Fitzimmons had been tagged by Cobrett, who had been hit by John L. Sullivan, “he by Paddy Ryan with bare knuckles and Ryan by Joe Goss, his predecessor, who, as a young man, had felt the fist of the great Jem Mace.” “It was a thrill to feel that all that separates you from hallowed history” was just a “series of punches in the nose.”
When watching someone such as the red-headed, fair-skinned “Canelo” (“He’s Mexican, looks Irish and hits like George Foreman,” someone has said) at work on a good night can make you entertain such thoughts. Alvarez’s nickname, “Cinnamon” is a gift from his trainer, Jose “Chepo” Reynoso, because of his hair. His father and his three brothers have dark hair. But like his mother, Ana Maria, Saul has red hair, thus, the nickname “Cinnamon.” The hair and his quite fair complexion got him a lot of strife as he grew up in Juanacatlan, Jalisco. It was in Juancatlan’s dirt streets and lots that he learned the rough basic elements of “the noble art of self defense.” That became more organized when, at 13, he began boxing, prompted by watching his older brother Rigoberto’s debut as a pro. When Canelo, himself, turned pro at 15, he already had 20 amateur bouts under his belt. His present record: 40 wins (29 knockouts, 11 decisions), one draw.
So, as Canelo stepped into Las Vegas’ MGM Grand Garden Arena Saturday, May 5, even though he as 21, he was seen by many as well prepared. He drew a chanting pro-Canelo crowd, and a huge television audience, especially in Mexico.
And clearly he won. Both the fans and all three judges at the MGM ring showed that. There was immediate talk, even before the bout was over, about matching him with either of the two boxers fighting at the top of last Saturday’s Las Vegas card: Floyd Mayweather or Miguel Cotto (Mayweather unsurprisingly won).
But several sports journalists, seemingly harboring partially subdued apprehension, saw things differently. The president of Golden Boy Promotions, the Golden Boy himself, Oscar de la Hoya, who is guiding Canelo’s career, fed the giddy desire to see Alvarez take on more menacing fighters. De la Hoya, a product of East Los Angeles, who defeated 17 world champs while winning ten world titles in six different weight classes, took on the question he gets every time a sports writer or reporter sees him. “Is he ready for the Cottos and Mayweathers? Absolutely,” De la Hoya said, Then qualified that by mentioning “in nine months,” maybe less.
But the more serious pugilistic analysts think this is “a really bad idea,” as one said. “They’ve brought him along very gradually, having him fight big name boxers who are pretty much over the hill. Forty year-olds.” Mosley is an example.
In the first round, Mosley’s swift aggressiveness was in sharp contrast of Canelo’s cautious back peddling. Mosley was firing his well-known all-purpose jab and Canelo had his guard well up. It’s wise for a fighter, especially a young one, to begin the first round seeking to find out what his adversary is bringing. But as the round continued this seemed exceedingly tentative. Mosley sliced a jab through this defense. Then Canelo banged a sharp jab in the middle of Mosley’s face. Mosley returned the favor, as Alvarez landed a body jab. Mosley went to the body effectively. Alvarez did the same. Near the end of the round Canleo landed a jarring hook to the head. It was Mosley’s round. In round two, Canelo slipped from behind the wall defending his body with his arms, his head with the gloves. He began punching more often, and more accurately. Then Mosley, who, in close, head lowered, butted Canelo on the outside of the left eye. The ref called time out, and Canelo’s cornermen staunched the blood for the moment. Canelo laid a two-punch combination on Mosley. Blood dropped down Canelo’s chest as he connected with a series of well-placed jabs. He won the round.
As his win makes obvious, Canelo came more and more out of his defense to land a scattered rain of jabs, hooks and punches. Yet a number of veteran analysts agree that he is often not a “busy” fighter. This leads some to say that he’s also a “slow” fighter. And that “style,” such people believe, will lead to disaster if he is paired with a Mayweather or a Cotto. Said one pugilistic critic, if the blows landed by Mosley had been thrown by younger fighter — Mayweather, Cotto, somebody in fighting prime — instead of a fighter in his forties and losing his speed and the snap of his punches, Alvarez would not have won. Yet his style, “fighting tall,” moving his head only slightly, strategically, combined with the fact that he possesses power in both hands, “makes up for his slowness,” ague others. By moving his head only slightly to let punches skim by keeps him in a balanced “pocket” and lets him respond. His power means he can back up most opponents — “those punches hurt too much.” But to take on younger, more dangerous opponents, “he’s got to fight with more intensity.” One observer calls him a “one paced fighter who gasses out” in mid-fight. “Mosley wasn’t really battering him, and he was slowing. He has to keep pressing them, never letting them take a rest. Which means he can’t take a rest.” By the seventh round with Mosley, he looked tired and “missing that last gear. That makes him beatable.”
Many people here and elsewhere are betting that’s not true.