BOXING and football are working-class sport in which nostalgia enjoys a commanding place. The plethora of legends in football matches is matched by the same when it comes to boxing greats of bygone eras deciding to lace them up one more time to take fans on a walk down memory lane, regardless of the flabs of loose flesh hanging over shorts in the process.
When Mike Tyson and Roy Jones Jr met in the ring for an exhibition bout at the tail end of 2020, this yearning for the return of a bygone age translated into 1.6 million pay per view buys with a concomitant $80 million (£63m) generated in revenue.
The fight itself, if between two rank novices, would have been met with a crescendo of boos and catcalls from the crowd in attendance. But the opportunity to see two bona fide legends of the game doing it again superseded focus on the quality produced, and thus everybody went home satisfied.
The latest two ring legends to talk up the possibility of doing it again are Floyd Mayweather and Manny Pacqiuao. Indeed, at a recent boxing event in Japan both men appeared at a press conference at which the contest was all but agreed verbally to take place later this year.
When they fought the first time in 2015 the pre-fight hype was off the scale. I vividly recall arriving in LA to cover the build up three weeks out and taking myself over to Paquaio trainer Freddie Roach’s gym at its location in a rundown corner of Hollywood.
Approaching the parking lot, there was a sizeable crowd outside being contained by a few of LAPD’s finest, while manning the entrance to the lot was the imposing figure of Pacquiao’s personal bodyguard. Everyone was waiting for Manny to arrive for his workout, and the scene was sheer bedlam to behold.
Back then in his native Phillippines, Manny Pacquaio was worshipped like the second coming of Jesus Christ, wherein his journey from dirt poor poverty to international fame and boxing derring-do pored over as if a latter-day Greek myth.
As for Mayweather Jr, in his prime, he was as close to unplayable for a boxer there has been since Sugar Ray Robinson reigned supreme. Though both Mayweather and Pacquaio look to have kept in some semblance of decent shape since their respective heydays, Father Time will never be denied, and given that both men evinced evidence of age when they fought last time, there does come a point when nostalgia is an enemy to be vanquished rather than a friend to be indulged.
One fighter who will most definitely not fall victim to nostalgia when it comes to looking back at his latest outing is Liverpool’s Callum Smith. Indeed, one wonders if the youngest of the Smith family of boxing brothers was ready — as he stepped through the ropes at the Centre Videotron in Quebec City, Canada last weekend — for the human train that was about to come his way in the personage of Artur Beterbiev.
Now based in Canada, the Russian was defending not just his WBO, IBF and WBC light heavyweight titles — and not merely his undefeated record — but also a one hundred per cent knockout record in 19 outings as a pro. This is a terrifying record by anybody’s standards, which set Smith up with a mammoth psychological, never mind physical task.
Formerly WBA champion at super middle before wisely moving to light heavy, the 6’3” scouser was looking to claim the mantle of two-weight world champion and beforehand was confident without being over-confident and determined without being anxious.
Seven rounds later and Smith had been battered and bludgeoned into a physical wreck, having been punched around the ring by his Russian opponent at will. After having some success in the first two rounds, the fight quickly turned into a one-sided beat-down, involving the Brit being ragdolled by a man who looks like a small Russian bear and fights with the ferocity of one.
There are clear shades of a vintage Rocky Marciano about Beterbiev in the way he keeps coming forward throwing bombs, this while seeming to be completely unperturbed about any punches coming back.
In the process of being systematically dismantled, Smith’s snap all but deserted him, to the point of being reduced to standing with his back against the ropes, covering up as his opponent peppered him with artillery.
Mercifully, Smith’s trainer Buddy McGirt stopped what by now had turned into a public execution after Beterbiev dropped him for the second time in the seventh.
This now takes Beterbiev’s record up to 20 victories from 20 fights and the continuation of his 100 per cent KO ratio. It also sets up the prospect of a fight for the unified title against fellow countryman and current WBA light heavyweight champ, Dmitry Bivol, set for Riyadh later this year.
Callum Smith, meanwhile, has returned to Britain with much soul-searching to undertake. Where does he go from here? It seems like yesterday I was watching him from ringside in Glasgow all the way back in 2012, when as a novice pro he was fighting on one of Scotland’s Ricky Burns’ undercards and was being tipped for great things in the game.
No fighter ever wants to go out on a stoppage loss, and certainly not one so comprehensive. But, then, even as proud a man as he clearly is, Callum Smith will hopefully not make the mistake of deluding himself that he belongs at elite level. He doesn’t belong there and in admitting it there is zero shame.
Ultimately, after such a long career that has afforded him many highs, retirement with his health still intact surely now calls.
