Roy Jones, Jr. and the Art of Losing

I have always been more interested in the way a fighter loses a bout than in the glory that goes to the winner. A losing boxer is, perhaps more than any other athlete in any other sport, exposed and embarrassed in a visceral, humiliating way. And so it was last Saturday that Roy Jones, Jr., once the best boxer in the world, submitted himself to a beating at the hands of light heavyweight champion Joe Calzaghe, a cocky Welshman known for his rapid-fire assault that overwhelms opponents not through power–most of his punches are really just slaps–but rather a kind of accumulation of indignities, as his opponent is hit over and over and over and over again until he does not know what to do about it any more.

Against the 39-year-old Jones however, Calzaghe’s punches seemed more than slaps–by the middle rounds they had opened an ugly cut over Jones’s left eye that kept spraying blood across his face and down his chest, minute after minute, round after round. Jones’s cutman was unable to do anything with the cut–all the normal tricks failed to work. It was perhaps after the ninth or tenth round that Jones was heard to ask the men in his corner, innocently, as if a child, “Is there any way to make it stop bleeding?” No, there wasn’t. But to his credit, Jones kept going out into the ring and taking another beating. It was clear he had no shot at stopping Calzaghe, who was well ahead on the scorecards and too fast for Jones to handle, but he went out anyway, to take more punishment, until the bell mercifully tolled at the end of the twelfth and final round, and the 36-year-old Calzaghe was declared the winner by three judges who all marked the bout 118-109 for the younger man.

Calzaghe acted like an arrogant schoolboy throughout the fight, in a reprise of the role Jones used to play when he was in his prime. But Jones, unlike Calzaghe, was good at looking cocky, whereas Calzaghe simply looked absurd, as if he were caricaturing himself. So he wiggled his shoulders, shook his butt, mimicked Jones’s style of fighting with one forearm raised at a perpendicular angle to his elbow. Perhaps this is just Calzaghe’s way of expressing the joy he experiences in conducting his business in the ring, but I suspect to most of the non-partisans in attendance it was severely off-putting. The only joy the Calzaghe haters got came in the first round, when Jones floored Calzaghe with a straight jab followed by an awkward punch that connected Jones’s forearm to Calzaghe’s face, sending the Welshman to the canvas and, momentarily, into a stupor that seemed to hold out hope that Jones could finish off his opponent early.

But the killer instincts of a finisher that Jones once possessed, many, many years ago, long before he was beaten twice by Antonio Tarver and once by Glen Johnson, were clearly gone. In truth, Jones had just gotten lucky with that first round punch, and all that was left after that was for the business of boxing to commence. And in that contest, Calzaghe was the quicker, stronger, and more skilled man. Jones looked every part the shot fighter who should retire rather than subject himself to any further beatings of this kind in the ring.

This is my card. Out of pity I gave Jones three rounds. In reality he won two rounds at the most, and probably, only one. It was not even remotely close.

This Just In: Bernard Hopkins Is A Good Person

Beautiful column from one of boxing’s best writers today, Kevin Iole.

Fight Recap: Darchinyan Destroys Mijares

See, this is why Cristian Mijares is not a top pound-for-pound fighter. Because a top pound-for-pound guy does not lay the kind of egg Mijares did tonight against Vic Darchinyan. In a unification bout for the 115-pound division, heavy underdog Darchinyan silenced his critics by completely dominating the supposedly superior boxer, Mijares.

From the opening bell, it looked like Mijares refused to take Darchinyan seriously. Even as Darchinyan was easily winning the first round, raking his opponent with vicious left hands (as he would all night) Mijares stood there and smirked. Then, in the final seconds of the opening round, Darchinyan crumpled Mijares with a left uppercut, sending the Mexican champion to the canvas for only the second time in his career.

Mijares got up, but after that it was all Darchinyan. He controlled the fight with his powerful left hand, which staggered Mijares repeatedly. Mijares never got his work rate going, often missing badly with his jab, never getting into any kind of rhythm. It was a dreadful showing. Dreadful in large part because Darchinyan, it now seems clear, is an underrated boxer. Everyone who has seen him fight knows the Australian can punch. But tonight his defense was also on display, as he picked off, blocked, and ducked Mijares’s best punches for most of the night, landing significant blows himself in every round.

It seems that Mijares, known for his defensive prowess, didn’t know what to make of Darchinyan’s style. It is certainly an ugly thing to behold. Arms out, elbows extended, Darchinyan looks like a gangly, lurching spider in the ring. He fights dirty at times, hitting his opponents with stray elbows and tossing them around in the clinches. On the inside Darchinyan did a lot of holding throughout the fight, stifling Mijares’s offense. But Mijares, who failed to use his superior height and reach to his advantage, invited these tactics by coming in with his neck bent, opening himself to the overhand lefts and uppercuts that battered him all night long.

Judging by the scorecards on fightjudge.com, it seems that some people had Mijares climbing back into the fight, beginning in the seventh round. I didn’t see that at all. Mijares’s best round, it is true, came in the seventh, when Darchinyan looked a little fatigued for the first minute or so and got caught with a couple effective combinations. But then the tide turned again and Darchinyan started firing that awesome left hand once more. By the end of the round he was backing up the Mexican, making for a 10-10 round on my card. In the eighth, Mijares landed little of note, while Darchinyan continued to land the more effective, telling blows.

The outcome clearly decided should the fight have gone to the cards, Mijares kept coming forward in the ninth round, and Darchinyan kept making him pay. The Australian put Mijares down again at the end of the round, with two flush shots to the face, knocking Mijares against the bottom ring rope and then flat on his back, ending the fight.

Darchinyan was his usual boastful self in triumph, proclaiming his own greatness and touting the fact that he had “kept his promise” by becoming the first man ever to knock out Mijares. As the new king of the junior bantamweight division, there should be no doubts about him now. As for Mijares, who slinked away from the ring in disgrace without giving the customary post-fight interview, it is safe to say that he will not be reappearing on anyone’s top pound-for-pound list anytime soon. Will Darchinyan? Wait and see…

“The Longest Count We’ve Seen”

Here is the final minute and a half of Friday’s Bute-Andrade fight in Montreal. Notice that when Bute collapses to the canvas, the referree doesn’t even start counting. He wastes time by watching Andrade, who was doing nothing, and then looking at the timekeeper, rather than Bute. After about twenty five seconds, when he finally finishes his 10-count, he doesn’t even have Bute take a step towards him, as is customary after brutal knockdowns. Had Bute been asked to step forward, I think he would have fallen on his face.

The more I look at it, the more Friday’s fight ranks as one of the most incompetent and/or corrupt things I’ve ever seen in boxing. The Andrade camp is rightfully protesting. As long as Bute holds his title without defeating Andrade in a rematch (in someplace other than Montreal, thank you very much), his championship should be regarded as illegitimate.

“Losing is an occupational hazard in boxing”

A beautiful behind the scenes look at the Hopkins-Pavlik fight from Thomas Hauser. Among other interesting things of note, it turns out that Pavlik was suffering from bronchitis, for which he was taking antibiotics, at the time of the fight. Something to keep in mind when analyzing the wide margin of Hopkins’s victory. Personally, I think Pavlik’s jump in weight played a more decisive role in the lopsided outcome.

Robbery in Montreal

Eleven rounds into the second defense of his IBF super middleweight title, Lucian Bute looked to be in complete control against the iron-chinned Librado Andrade. Bouncing on his feet for most of the fight, Bute was stifling most of Andrade’s relentless pressure, and raking him repeatedly with beautiful combinations that stalled the Mexican challenger. In a fight that had been billed as a classic battle between the boxer and the puncher, the boxer–Bute–showed himself to be a surprisingly adept puncher when need be, and the puncher–Andrade–once again demonstrated that while he possesses an indomitable will, he has very little boxing ability. Andrade, whom Showtime commentator Steve Farhood described as a “poor man’s Antonio Margarito,” kept coming forward, but was unable to maintain the kind of workrate necessary to frustrate Bute or to bank many rounds. Indeed, heading into the twelfth round, I had scored the fight nine rounds to two for Bute, with an extra point for a dubious knockdown in the tenth round, when Andrade tripped over Bute’s foot.

Then came the twelfth round. It was one of the best rounds of the year in boxing. Andrade knew he needed a knockout. Bute, well ahead on the cards and fighting in front of 17,000 of his hometown fans in Montreal, simply needed to stay away to retain his title. Yet his trainer gave him advice that seemed odd to me the moment he said it: he told Bute to fight the twelfth round like a true champion, in the kind of tone of voice that trainers use when they want their fighters to summon every last ounce of will and go out on their shields if necessary. Bute heeded this dubious advice, and proceeded to engage himself in a slugfest for the final three minutes. The only problem was that, one minute into the round, it was clear that Bute was completely spent physically. Taking shot after shot, Bute struggled to stay on his feet, staggering around the ring like a five-year-old who has just made himself dizzy by spinning around in circles. With about five seconds left in the fight, Andrade finally dropped Bute with a devastating right hand. Bute crumpled to the canvas, completely shot. The look on his face said it all: he was done. Because a fighter cannot be saved by the bell in the last round, he would have to get on his feet before the count of ten in order to earn the victory by decision. He would not have made it. About nine seconds after being dropped, Bute staggered to his feet, but was still wobbly. Any referee would have counted him out.

The only problem was that the fight was being refereed by a novice from Bute’s hometown. And this novice decided to fuck up a brilliant ending to a classic fight. He delayed picking up the count because Andrade wasn’t standing precisely where he wanted him to in a neutral corner. This sort of shopminding by a fight referee always strikes me as tedious; but it’s infuriating when it actually determines the outcome of the fight. By the time the referee was satisfied that Andrade was standing in the proper spot, a good 15 seconds had passed since Bute fell to the canvas. He finally picked up the count, but Bute was standing and holding himself steady by then. The ref declared Bute able to continue, and then the bell sounded ending the fight.

I don’t know what it feels like to “win” a fight in which you spend the last seconds knocked out on the canvas. Somebody should ask Lucian Bute. Meanwhile, Andrade’s corner, after reacting with initial fury, seemed more comfortable with the situation as the cards were announced and Bute was given a unanimous decision. Their fighter had not come out ahead on the cards, but he had actually won the fight. There is nothing more dramatic in boxing than a fighter knocking out his opponent in the last seconds of a bout in which he is hopelessly behind on the cards. Andrade accomplished this feat tonight, even though the home-cooking of a pitiful referee ensured that Andrade’s triumph will not show up in the record books.

My card:

Five Fights We Want To See In 2009

Everyone knows that money and marketability make the biggest fights. That’s what brought us the snore-fest between De La Hoya and Mayweather in 2007, and what will bring us the absurd matchup between De La Hoya and Manny Pacquiao in 2008. (Come to think of it, Oscar De La Hoya’s pay per view appeal seems to provide the fuel for some of boxing’s duller matchups these days.) Anyway, we will likely see more of the same in 2009, with Bernard Hopkins possibly fighting the winner of Joe Calzaghe-Roy Jones, and Floyd Mayweather coming out of retirement to fight whichever marquee name will make him the most coin. But throwing aside pay per view sales and the hype machines that continually bring us some of the worst mega-fights, here are five fights we’d like to see as soon as possible.

1. Chad Dawson versus Bernard Hopkins

Forget the hype over a rematch between Hopkins and Jones or Hopkins and Calzaghe, the best fight to be made in the light heavyweight division is between the rejuvinated Hopkins, coming off his destruction of Kelly Pavlik, and Chad Dawson, the clear future of the division (and arguably its present). Both Dawson and Hopkins are coming off dominating wins over quality opponents. Dawson’s hand speed, athleticism, and comfort with the 175 pound division make him the ideal opponent for Hopkins. Would Hopkins be able to find a way to break down Dawson and expose his weaknesses, as he did with Pavlik? Almost certainly not, but the fight would likely be a compelling–and close–one. It would also demonstrate–yet again–Hopkins’s willingness to tackle huge challenges at an age when most fighters have long since retired.

2. Antonio Margarito versus Paul Williams II

A dream rematch between the two best welterweights in the world today. Both Margarito and Williams are big for the welterweight division–tall and lanky fighters who make the most of every pound and beat their opponents into submission by throwing punches at all angles and with a heavy volume. Margarito’s chin is superior to Williams’s, but at this point in their careers Williams is probably the more accomplished boxer and a more dangerous puncher. Williams narrowly decisioned Margarito in July 2007, but since then both fighters have grown their reputations with brilliant performances. Now Margarito, who seemed to come on a little too late in his first matchup with Williams, would have the chance to truly establish himself as the best welterweight in the world (although Joshua Clottey will still be waiting in the wings for another crack at the Tijuana Tornado as well).

3. Juan Manuel Marquez versus Juan Diaz

Marquez is, in my eyes, the best pound-for-pound fighter in the world today, and the linear lightweight champion after his knockout of Joel Casamayor last month. Juan Diaz’s ascent to the top of the lightweight division hit a snag earlier this year when he suffered an upset loss to veteran Nate Campbell. Since then, however, he has registered a convincing, emphatic victory over contender Michael Katsidis, placing him once again squarely in the discussion for the best lightweight in the world today. Everyone wants to see a completion to the Manny Pacquaio-Juan Manuel Marquez trilogy, but this fight would give a younger, lesser known talent the opportunity to break through in a big way against the best the fight game has to offer.

4. Ricky Hatton versus Zab Judah

Okay, a lot of people are tired of Zab Judah. Since becoming the undisputed welterweight champion in 2005, he’s lost to Carlos Baldomir, Floyd Mayweather, Miguel Cotto, and Joshua Clottey. These results, especially the last one against Clottey, demonstrated that, aside from the general lack of focus that has plagued his entire career, Judah is simply too small for the 147-pound weight class. By the opening bell of his August tilt with Clottey, Judah weighed thirteen pounds less than his opponent. Very, very few fighters can overcome that kind of size and weight disadvantage. That’s why we think Judah would be a natural for the 140-pound division, where the field is less crowded (the class of the division basically consists of Hatton, Paulie Malignaggi, and Timothy Bradley), and where Judah’s size won’t be a disadvantage. In fact, I suspect that his power would be telling, and his hand speed would be more than adequate. Of course, his general demeanor, inattentiveness, and defensive sloppiness would continue to plague him, but that’s what would make him compelling to watch. You really wouldn’t know what would happen. If Hatton gets past Malignaggi next month, a matchup with Judah would be a box-office success.

5. Alfred Angulo versus James Kirkland

This matchup in the 154-pound division would feature two of the fight game’s rising stars, both knockout artists who have destroyed every opponent they’ve been matched up against thus far. We don’t really have any way yet of knowing how good these guys are until they face somebody who can match their power. This would be the perfect slugfest–ideal for the marquee event on HBO’s Boxing After Dark.

2009 will be a good year if three of these five matches come off.

The Triumph of Bernard Hopkins

Contrary to women, who can only lose their honour (through infidelity), a “real” man must fight for it–he must use violence to achieve glory and public recognition. Pursuing masculinity is therefore an exposure to vulnerability. Most importantly, masculinity is constructed in front of and for other men and against femininity because, what men fear most is being feminine.

–Margrethe Silberschmidt

Saturday night’s main event provided one of those rare fights that will stay with the memory longer than the ordinary news cycle, longer than the heated debate that follows any upset in a prize fight, and longer than the momentary impression that, say, a crushing knockout or brutal slugfest leave on the mind’s eye. This is because, at the age of 43 (almost 44), Bernard Hopkins, 4:1 underdog Bernard Hopkins, turned in a performance that no one, not even those who saw Hopkins winning the fight, expected. He looked vastly superior to the boring, fatigued fighter who lost to Joe Calzaghe in April, and, one on of the biggest stages of an already legendary career, thoroughly defeated and humiliated one of the ring’s rising stars. Two days out from the fight, the images that stay with me include the sight of Hopkins dancing around a befuddled Pavlik, landing at will in front of an Atlantic City crowd that was one part ecstatic, one part shocked; the look on Kelly Pavlik’s face in between rounds as he began to grapple with the reality of his inability to even make a competitive fight against the vastly superior Hopkins; and the image of Hopkins standing on the ropes after his victory, staring down the members of press row–every one of them, one by one–to punish them for their doubts and criticism. Although, in truth, Hopkins probably needed those doubters to motivate himself to turn in the performance that he did. In sum, Hopkins’s victory not only pushed him back into the discussion as one of the sport’s top pound-for-pound fighters, it also announced to the world that Bernard Hopkins is one of the most compelling athletes in the world today, from any country, in any sport. Boxing does not get the mainstream media coverage that it deserves (partly because of its own faults), but if it did, what Hopkins did to Kelly Pavlik would make the achievements of overrated, past-their-prime stars like Brett Favre or Dana Torres look ridiculous by comparison.

Two days out, I find myself still wondering how everyone could have been so wrong about Hopkins-Pavlik. Not only wrong about who would win, but utterly wrong about how convincing the win would be. We didn’t just get the result wrong, we got the entire narrative wrong. Hopkins did not defeat Pavlik through trickery or bullshit, he won by beating the crap out of him for twelve consecutive rounds. He was seventeen years older, yet he looked younger, stronger, faster, quicker. Everything everyone said and wrote about this fight going in was wrong. These mistakes will happen more frequently, I suppose, in a sport where one only has to be great on one specific night, rather than over and over again, as in baseball or basketball. This gets to the argument about sample sizes, of course, which is a tired argument, but more importantly, completely inadequate for explaining Saturday’s result. Given the way the fight progressed, I have 100 percent confidence that, should they fight each other under the same conditions 99 more times, Hopkins would win all 99 of them, some by knockout. Pavlik simply looked like he had no business being anywhere near Bernard Hopkins in the ring, even though Pavlik twice defeated a man, Jermaine Taylor, who had himself twice (narrowly) defeated Hopkins.

This is where prize fights can take on an almost Zen quality: they simply are what they are. There is something completely different and transcendently unique about the sport itself that resists prognostication. When a fighter strips down half-naked and steps into a ring with another half-naked fighter in front of thousands of fans and millions watching on television, there is something very different going on than what we see in other sporting events. Fighters want to hurt each other badly; in an almost ideal sense, they want to symbolically (if not actually) kill each other. Because a fight is not just a test of skill or fortitude, it is also a challenge to one’s masculinity. As such, fighters stands perched on a narrow balance beam; the slightest misstep and he can tumble to his death. On Saturday night, Hopkins didn’t just walk the balance beam, he danced across it, in a display of rare ability, yes, but also supreme will and confidence that will forever define his remarkable career. We are all still waiting to catch our breaths.

Fight Recap: Pavlik v. Hopkins

When people start questioning Bernard Hopkins’s ability to continue fighting at an elite level, he takes it personally. Last night he effectively silenced his critics by completely outclassing an undefeated opponent 17 years his junior. In many ways it was the most impressive win ever for a man over the age of 40. Yes, George Foreman knocked out Michael Moorer at the age of 45 for the heavyweight championship, but in that fight Foreman lost just about every round until he scored the knockout. Last night, Hopkins won just about every round, and most of them in convincing fashion. In the last round, Hopkins looked like he was ready to close the show by knocking out Pavlik, who had spent much of the run-up to the fight boasting that he would become the first man ever to knock Hopkins out. Not even close.

There were two huge unknowns heading into this fight: 1.) Could Bernard Hopkins turn back the clock at age 43 and summon the fighter who thrashed Antonio Tarver in 2006 and 2.) Could Kelly Pavlik fight with the same power and intensity at 170 pounds that he had demonstrated at the middleweight limit of 160? By the third or fourth round of last night’s fight, it had become clear that the answer to both those unknowns were swinging dramatically in Hopkins’s favor. Not only did Hopkins turn back the clock, he really dialed it back several more notches than would have been needed for a victory. The 43-year-old had the faster hands, better movement, and better workrate. It wasn’t even close. He made Pavlik look unskilled and sloppy the entire night. By the late rounds, Hopkins’s corner was calling Pavlik a joker, a fraudulent superstar who didn’t even know how to handle a jab. For his part, Pavlik looked dreadful at 170 pounds. With little snap on his punches, he was always too slow and too clumsy. He would go to throw a punch, and by the time he did he had telegraphed the blow so much that the slippery Hopkins was already gone. Pavlik’s corner kept imploring him to “double up on the jab,” but the truth was that Pavlik could not find Hopkins with one jab, let alone two.

But Hopkins’s success was more a product of his preparation than Pavlik’s conditioning. As Hopkins explained after the fight, studying films of Pavlik he realized that he was not comfortable moving to his left, and that he could not throw his powerful right hand across his body. Accordingly, Hopkins trained himself to move constantly to his right, away from Pavlik’s power. As a result, the awkward Pavlik was open for right hands throughout the entire fight.

After the fight, Hopkins went over to console Pavlik, who looked like his dog had just died, telling the young fighter that he would be a great champion, and giving him a few pointers. “Don’t let this destroy you,” he told Pavlik. Who knows how Pavlik will come back from a high-profile loss as embarrassing as this one was. And really, who cares. Because last night Bernard Hopkins cemented his place as one of the greatest fighters who ever lived, and probably the greatest over-40 fighter of all-time. Well done, and well deserved.

Fight Preview: Kelly Pavlik v. Bernard Hopkins, Saturday October 18th, 9 pm (HBO PPV)

12 Rounds or Less at the Boardwalk Hall, Atlantic City, New Jersey

Odds: Pavlik -420, Hopkins +330

Kelly Pavlik: 34-0 with 30 knockouts

Height: 6 feet, 2 1/2 inches

Weight (Last Fight): 159 1/2 pounds

Reach: 75 inches

Last Fight: Third Round TKO of Gary Lockett on June 7, 2008

Bernard Hopkins: 48-5-1 with 32 knockouts

Height: 6 feet, 1 inch

Weight (Last Fight): 173 pounds

Reach: 75 inches

Last Fight: Split Decision Loss to Joe Calzaghe on April 19, 2008

Analysis:

This fight seems more intruiging every time I look at it. On paper, it should be something of a mismatch. Pavlik, at 26 years of age, is one of the top pound-for-pound fighters in boxing. Though his resume is a little thin for a man with an undefeated record after 34 fights, he’s looked tremendously impressive in wins over Edison Miranda, Jermaine Taylor, and Gary Lockett. He has great power in both hands (especially his right), decent hand speed, and a work rate that usually sees him throwing around 80 to 100 punches per round. And these are hard punches, not the slaps you often see from fighters with high work rates.

By contrast, Bernard Hopkins, one of the greatest middleweights in boxing history, is clearly past his prime. Now 43 years old, Hopkins has learned how to adapt his craft to his declining skills by picking his spots and making his opponents miss. He can still land punches with power, but as his loss to Calzaghe in April showed, he tends to tire as the fight progresses, and he can no longer keep up the kind of work rate usually necessary to put rounds in the bank. That said, he has a world-class chin and has never been knocked out or really convincingly beaten.

Seen from this perspective, the odds, which cast Pavlik as the heavy favorite, are not surprising. But there are one or two causes for concern for the Pavlik camp. First, Pavlik has never fought anyone like Hopkins. Hopkins is an evasive, defensive fighter. He will make you miss. Pavlik’s most impressive wins have come over opponents who tend to stand right in front of you, making it easy for Pavlik to throw the powerful hooks and uppercuts that stopped fighters like Miranda and Taylor. Hopkins will be different. He will move around more. He will roll with punches better. He will block more punches on his gloves. Pavlik is going to have to work harder than ever before to inflict damage.

That leads to the second cause for concern: Pavlik’s weight. Pavlik, long and lanky, is a natural middleweight. The one time he fought north of 160 pounds, in his rematch against Jermaine Taylor, he did not look as impressive. He won the fight, but he was unable to double up on his jab or to keep the same work rate that had overwhelmed Taylor in their first matchup, fought at the middleweight limit of 160 pounds. Now Pavlik is moving up to a catch-weight of 170 pounds. How will he handle the extra weight? No one really knows. If the second Taylor fight is any indication, It will probably force him to adopt a slower workrate, which will play to Hopkins’s advantage. Hopkins has had the most trouble with fighters who have great hand speed (Calzaghe, Taylor, Jones). Pavlik at 170 will probably not present that kind of problem for the Executioner.

Those caveats aside, there is a bottom line to all this. Hopkins is 43 years old. In his last fight against Calzaghe, he clearly faded as the rounds mounted, prompting his then-trainer, Freddie Roach, to implore him to retire. Instead, Hopkins got a new trainer. He will need a better performance than the one he gave against Calzaghe to defeat Pavlik, because even if Pavlik is hurt by the extra weight, he will still be able to outwork Hopkins and bank more rounds. Pavlik, who has said he wants to be the first man ever to knock out Hopkins, could become too aggressive and get caught with something that would send him to the canvas. But if Pavlik could peel himself off the canvas to knock out Jermaine Taylor, he will be sure to keep going after Hopkins. Thus, if Hopkins wants to win this fight, he needs to angle for a decision. If he wants to win a decision, he needs to throw more punches than he did against Calzaghe. Throwing a punch and then holding, as he has done in recent fights, will not be enough. He must throw more. To do that, he will have to turn back the clock a couple years and summon the fighter who so convincingly dispatched Antonio Tarver in June 2006. That fight was only 2 1/2 years ago, but 2 1/2 years is a long time for a man over 40 years of age.

Prediction:

Pavlik will fail in his quest to knock out Hopkins, but he will do enough to earn a decision. Ultimately, his work rate will be too much for Hopkins, who will keep the fight close for a few rounds, and maybe even score a knockdown. But by the later rounds the difference in age and energy will really begin to tell, and Pavlik will pull away for a relatively narrow (around 116-112) decision.

Given the odds for this fight, though, I would be tempted to put down some money on Hopkins. There are enough unknowns in this matchup to make the betting line attractive for a wager on the underdog. And I have enough doubts about Pavlik to advise against laying down money on a heavy favorite for minimum return.