Just watched an entire series of HBO boxing documentaries entitled Legendary Nights on You Tube – every episode is worth watching but I think two of them complement each other particularly well; ‘Julio Cesar Cha
vez Vs. Meldrick Taylor’ and ‘Oscar De La Hoya Vs. Felix Trinidad’.
Both fights serve as a cautionary tale on the pitfalls of steering home a winning lead in the final rounds. Do you go in for the kill or dance your way to the final bell? Do you stick or do you twist?
Taylor twisted in the most heroic yet tragic manner possible, while De La Hoya, ever the chess player, protected his King and stuck. The result of both would prove to be among the most controversial in the annals of boxing history, not least because of the criminally bad advice offered by the corner-men of the two vanquished fighters.
Chavez and Taylor squared off in Las Vegas, in March 1990, in the aftermath of Mike Tyson’s stunning upset at the hands of James Buster Douglas. Their fight turned out to be one of the most visceral and dramatic bouts of the decade.
Taylor started much the better; his dazzling hand-speed and footwork proving decisive as he unleashed barrages of combos before dancing out-of-range. Round-after-round, he asserted his dominance.
By the end of the 8th, Chavez’s corner were desperate, their man had arguably lost every round. Trainer Rómulo Quirarte implored him in the most rousing fashion to get back out there for his sons, for his family, for his country.
Whether his stirring rhetoric proved decisive or not, there was a gradual yet incremental shift in momentum. Taylor was still landing but without the snap of earlier rounds while Chavez at last found his range and unleashed a number of devastating power-shots.
Taylor was a Philadelphia fighter born and bred - he worshipped Joe Frazier in his youth – and like his idol he never needed an excuse to trade toe-to-toe - if an opponent wanted a war, Taylor would go nuclear. So it was all the more inexplicable and foolhardy that his trainer Lou Duva instructed him to go out for the 12th and win the round (We need this round kid, it’s close, do you want to be champion of the world?), not least because the fight was already sewn-up despite Chavez’s late rally and he only had to stay out of trouble until the final bell.
So Taylor went out to trade blows, battered and fading as he was, while Chavez, seemingly renewed, tore out of his corner like a bull for the start of the 12th. There was something magnificent and gladiatorial about the way Taylor dredged up his last reserves of will and strength to try to finish-off a much fresher Chavez. But it was not to be.
With mere seconds remaining, Taylor surged forward with a flurry of missed shots and found himself inexplicably facing the corner buckle, so he turned to find his opponent, only for Chavez to catch him flush with a right. He was sent sprawling to the canvas.
The shot itself was not knockout punch, but it was a good one and Taylor, already running on empty, struggled to his feet. With a little support from the ropes, he just made it. Referee Richard Steele looked imploringly towards him and asked twice if he was OK, Taylor however was distracted, glancing off to his right, and did not respond.
Duva had by this point made his second cardinal error of the evening; he stood on the ring apron as if to enter and diverted his man’s attention. Due to Taylor’s seeming unresponsiveness, Steele dramatically waved his hands in the air and ruled him unable to continue.
It was a criminal decision – Taylor was on his feet inside 10 and there was only two seconds left of the bout - but Steele had missed the flashing warning light that indicates only 10 seconds remain in a round.
In his defence, the ref said in the documentary that it doesn’t matter what time it is in the fight, if he deems a boxer unfit to continue, he will stop it. But that is bullshit - Chavez would not have had time to inflict more punishment inside two seconds – he wouldn’t have been able to cross the ring in that time – while Taylor had given everything, was on his feet, and deserved to see the fight through. His countenance of absolute despair at the end told its own story.
Chavez continued his illustrious career with distinction for many more years but Taylor was never the same fighter. Indeed, the documentary ends on a tragic note when it displays a televised interview of his circa 2003. He had clearly suffered a significant brain trauma but was still insisting through markedly slurred speech that he was fit to continue boxing and he was still the same fighter he ever was.
Taylor competed in 38 professional fights but never a more gruelling and punishing one than this and you can’t help thinking that this one more than all the others contributed to his sad demise.
Nine years later, amongst a fever pitch of national fervour, De La Hoya contested a bout against Trinidad, again in Vegas, that was every bit as anticipated as those staged between the likes of Hagler, Hearns, Leonard and Duran a generation before.
De La Hoya started much like Taylor, using his superior hand-speed and movement to build a commanding lead. Trinidad seemed out of his depth as he absorbed dazzling flurries and looked clumsy and lead-footed in trying to hunt down his opponent.
If anything De La Hoya was more imperious than Taylor and in his corner before the 10th he was advised by Gil Clancy and Robert Alcazar that the fight was won so not to risk engaging.
Thus De La Hoya fought the last three rounds throwing little more than an occasional jab. It’s no exaggeration to say he made Andre Dirrell look like Mickey Ward. The change in tactics proved to be a disaster.
When the judges’ score cards were announced De La Hoya was devastated to learn he had lost by a majority decision while Trinidad celebrated with joyful abandon. If the Puerto Rican had any doubts about the veracity of his victory, he certainly wasn’t displaying them.
It was a shocking decision and starkly illustrated the astonishing level of incompetency among the upper echelons of boxing adjudicators. Bob Arum might not be the most impartial of commentators – he was De La Hoya’s promoter after all – but you have to concede he had a point in Legendary Nights when he illustrates the preposterousness of the scoring; De La Hoya more than likely won the first nine rounds and, if he didn’t, he could have lost no less than two, so despite gifting the final three rounds to Trinidad, he still wins by a minimum of two points.
De La Hoya’s behaviour certainly wasn’t befitting of a true champion, it was cynical and, to some, bordering on cowardly but he had clearly done enough to win the fight and it seems the judges were too greatly swayed by the final three rounds, which is a rookie mistake in scoring a fight.
To his credit, De La Hoya admitted soon after that his approach was his ultimately down to him and he had agreed with his corner-men’s advice at the time but such magnanimity held little truck with many boxing fans, particularly amongst Mexicans, who felt a form of natural justice was visited upon him. I can understand their sentiments but, more than that, I just can’t help but feel sorry for the fighter who dazzled us all in those first nine rounds and walked away with nothing more than a grave injustice. Well, that and $20 million but you take my point...
Legendary Nights is a brilliant series and really worth a watch. Other highlights include Larry Holmes Vs. Gerry Cooney and Marvellous Marvyn Hagler Vs. Tommy Hearns. Check it out!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pFQ2oJ3asaM
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RTquDAnlyvU
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