There simply cannot be anything in the history of sports to match this – two brothers fighting career-defining rematches in the space of two weeks, each fight a classic in its way, and each brother losing by the narrowest of margins that a fight can be lost, a single point on a single scorecard. Beware the ides of March indeed, or in the case of the snakebitten Marquez brothers, beware the whole goddamn month, for these first two weeks of March 2008 have brought them both excruciating disappointment.

I have to believe the lion’s share of that disappointment rests with the elder brother, Juan Manuel, after losing a split decision last night to Manny Pacquiao in a seesaw battle of skill and blood and unbelievable mettle. No one ever has suggested that the career of the younger, lighter Marquez brother has been one of missed opportunities and under-appreciation. But with Juan Manuel, such feelings have hovered around him ever since the aftermath of the first Pacquiao fight in 2004. Last night’s rematch was his shot at glorious redemption in the eyes of Mexico, the boxing world and the world at large. With the stakes so high, to lose by one point… on ONE scorecard… it’s hard to imagine the heartbreak.

Of course, like his brother before him, Juan Manuel has nothing to hang his head about today. The fight was a masterpiece from both corners and close as close could be, such that it’s literally hard to imagine a fight being much more even and great at the same time (well, except for that fight two weeks ago, with that other Marquez…). Amazingly, I had exactly the same score for Pacquiao last night that I did for Israel Vasquez – 114-113 – and I have to say, I felt more confident about that score than I did in Vasquez/Marquez III. Close as it was last night, I found the rounds easier to call. To my eyes, each fighter clearly won six rounds apiece, but of course in the third round Pac Man put JMM on his ass, and that was the difference right there.

What a punch it was too, the third-round blow that proved, as it were, the game-winning shot. As I remember it, Marquez lunged forward with a right hand and Manny slipped to his right, came up with a right hand of his own that was more of a feint than a punch, and then brought across a lightning-quick left hook right on the button of the still-lunging Marquez. JMM went down like he’d been shot. It wasn’t the type of kinetic straight left that we’re used to seeing Pacquiao knock people out with. It was a short precise hook that found a split-second opening, and the fact that it inflicted such momentary damage was quite a testament to something we’ve all known for a long time – Manny Pacquiao is one hell of a heavy puncher.

Marquez landed his share of big shots in the fight, even staggered Manny a few times, but he wasn’t able to land him on the canvas (not enough is written about Pac Man’s chin) because, thoughtful and accurate as he is with his punches, he just doesn’t have the pop. Also, a lot of the starch came out of his shots in the late rounds and that hurt his chances on the scorecards. He dominated the middle of the fight – I had him winning rounds five through eight – but in the ninth a cut above his right eye caused by a seventh-round headbutt opened into an awful gash, and as the claret flowed his energy level visibly dropped. On my card, he lost rounds nine through eleven (almost going down again in the tenth) and needed at least a knockdown to tie it up going into the final frame. Though he won the 12th cleanly (Harold Lederman, what are you watching?), all it earned him was that heartbreaking one-point margin of defeat.

The bout reminded me a lot of Cotto/Mosley, another fight contested at such a high level of skill and intensity as to be almost beyond comprehension. The concentration being brought to bear in that ring last night was unbearably palpable. I felt it emanating through my television screen and it made me nervous. I tell you, these are the kinds of fights that I relish, that for me make boxing such satisfying sporting spectacle – the chess matches that are also slugfests, and vice versa. That perfect mixture of brain and brawn. In the final analysis, each of these men is amply possessed of both qualities, although Marquez has a bit more brain and Pacquiao slightly more brawn. When you think about it, that’s a strikingly similar index to the Vasquez/Marquez breakdown. So what else is there to say in the end but… score another one for the brawn.

Tomorrow night’s Manny Pacquiao/Juan Manuel Marquez bout poses a lot of questions for the prognosticating fight fan. Does Marquez have enough left in the tank to stage the kind of war necessary to beat Pacquiao? Does the fact that Manny has looked less than stellar in his last two fights, particularly the Jorge Solis bout last April, tell us anything about where he’s at? Finally, is this fight just happening too late to give us the kind of classic rematch that we should have seen from these two fighters?

As I see it the answers to the questions above are yes, no, and sadly, yes. Marquez isn’t shot yet by any stretch, and though I do think he’s considerably slowed, his overwhelming pride and savvy are still enough to win him this fight. As for Pacquiao, too much has been made about his so-called soft 2007. Yes, he was off for Solis, and yes, he didn’t look spectacular in beating Barrera, but Solis was a slightly underrated opponent who Manny clearly didn’t get up for, and I give him a pass on that, because all of the great ones have an off night now and then. And Barrera, well, though clearly at the end of his rope, he’s still Barrera, and he was in there with survival on his mind first and foremost. In other words, the conditions weren’t exactly ideal for Pac Man to look like a world-beater that night, and nevertheless he did what he had to do and took care of business.

All of that said, I can’t help but think that what we’re going to see tomorrow night will pale in comparison to what we might have seen in the fall of 2004, and that falls on Marquez. As has been heavily documented, Marquez and his manager Nacho Beristain passed on a rematch after the first epic fight with Pacquiao in May of ’04 (which ended in a draw after Pac Man knocked Juan Manuel down three times in the first round), passed on it cause they didn’t like the money. At that point, remember Manny hadn’t yet fought Erik Morales. One has to believe that if Marquez had fought an immediate Pacquiao rematch, presuming it was another great fight (and it’s hard to imagine it not being so), no matter who won there most likely would have been a third fight. And if Marquez had won that second bout, he could have named his price for the third, not to mention that the epic Pacquiao v. Mexican trilogy of the millennium would have featured Marquez and not Morales, which would have made Juan Manuel the superstar that he longs to be.

Now, well, though I do believe that Marquez has enough of what he needs to win, I also think he has more than enough of what he needs to lose – namely, a reduction in his overall mobility that has resulted in more of a tendency to stand and slug it out, a tendency that does not bode well at all when going in to face Sir Pac and his perilous left hand. I’m swayed a little by arguments that Marquez solved Pacquiao in the first fight and that he will do the same tomorrow night, because Marquez is as thoughtful and observant a fighter as I’ve ever seen. The guy could solve the boxing equivalent of Fermat’s Last Theorem in the space of a few rounds, solve it and then turn around and knock ole Fermat on his ass.

But you’re still left with the fact that the first Marquez/Pacquiao fight was almost four years ago, and a lot has changed since then. Manny is much more of a two-fisted fighter, and he’s gained a hell of a lot of savvy himself in there. Meanwhile, Marquez has deteriorated, slightly I grant you, but slightly is more than enough in fights at this rarified level, fights that turn on matters of millimeters and milliseconds.

So – prognostification. I see this fight going a lot like Pacquaio/Morales II, with Marquez building an early lead on the scorecards, but the tide turning somewhere around the seventh or eighth. I have a feeling that Marquez is going to stand and throw with Manny a little more than is prudent, and the exchange rate does not favor him at all. Like Morales, I see Marquez eating a lot of Pac’s big shots and believing in his inexhaustible Mexican ability to Eat Shots, and I see fate catching up with him on that score in much the same way that it did with El Terrible. I think we’re going to see Marquez get old in front of our eyes tomorrow night, and I think he’s going to suffer the first stoppage of his career. I feel so strongly on this one that I’m even going to call the round, my recent losing streak be damned – Pacquiao TKO11 Marquez.

(p.s. – Because my prognositifcations have been so off lately, I had an inclination to go all George Constanza on this one and call the opposite of what my instincts were telling me. But I’m giving my instincts one last chance to get back to form. Marquez KO’s Pacquiao in five and I head into Bizarro World starting next week.)

Some links to my output over The Sporting Blog this week, material which I think has some crossover potential for the No Mas faithful. (Marquez/Pacquiao preview is coming, avec prognostification).

Round by Round: Weekly Boxing Notes
I hit Marquez/Pacquiao and three big fights that were either made or close to being made this week – Pavlik/Lockett, Hatton/Lazcano and Peter/V. Klitschko.

Top Five All-Time Ridiculous Sports Fantasies
After Billy Crystal led off for the Yanks yesterday, I was like, wait just a goddamn minute… you can do that? Then what about my fantasies? Here Large’s all-time list – squash, Jack Tatum and Kenyans are all involved.

The House That Joe Louis Built
With the news that the last event at Yankee Stadium may be a Rangers game, I list the top five non-baseball events that took place at the Stadium. Win one for the Gipper, innit?

Marvelous and The Beast
Monday was the anniversary of Hagler/Mugabi from 1986. I do a little recap and discuss the implications for Marvelous. Video is included.

Someone Inform Digger That He Looks Ridiculous
In the grand tradition of sports-blogging, I point out that Digger Phelps is wearing a bad hat these days.

For the Undercard’s sophomore broadcast, we treat you to a double dip of local boys making good in the latest Gotham Boxing show at the Roseland: Dimitriy Salita and Jorge Teron.

In the fall of 2005, I profiled Dimitriy “Star of David” Salita for The Fader. When photographer Alex Tehrani and I went up to Salita’s training camp in the Poconos, we watched Dimitriy and his friend and sparring partner Merhav Mohar argue in their cabin’s kitchen about who kept better kosher, while a young Puerto Rican kid from the Bronx took it all in with a bemused smile. That kid’s name was Jorge Teron. When we watched the three work out later that day, Teron impressed us. His look and his style were from another time–a time of crisp double jabs, medicine balls and lightweight championships that packed the Garden.

Two and a half years later, I got to see an extremely smooth Jorge “The Truth” Teron remain undefeated (20-0-1) and knockout Sandro Marcos for the NABA title. Those initials don’t hold a lot of water, but fortunately it won’t be the only belt Teron ever wears. All we have to do is get him to retire the airbrush t-shirt and invest in a throwback robe and shorts we can start dusting off the Alexis Arguello comparisons.

As for Dimitriy, it was good to see him back in the ring, and hard to argue he didn’t deserve a soft landing after almost a year off. But Dima, much as we love you and wish you nothing but success–hebrew to hebrew, it’s time to step up or step down. Either way you choose you have my respect, but watching you take out the trash is losing some of its luster.

Stay tuned to the Undercard for a chilling Episode Three featuring Gary Stark and an incredibly swollen face.

Episode 1: Kid Chocolate

(Baggiesboy is back, filing his dispatch from Lord knows where, martini and rapier wit in hand, both thrust today in the face of the none-too-sexy septuagenarian, Sepp Blatter. Enjoy – L)

Sepp Blatter turned 72 this week. The FIFA führer, a hybrid of Norman Wisdom and Claude Rains if ever there was one, shows no signs of slowing down. During his weekend boondoggle in Scotland, presidential pronouncements were falling like leaves in Vallombrosa. Up first: bad tackles are bad. Who knew? Next: Only Englishmen should play soccer at the Olympics. Hopefully a non-Englishman will be allowed to manage the team. And last, but by no means least: Hawkeye-style review technology is for the birds. Good enough for Super Brat, but nicht Der Super Blatt.

Hey, the DSB played in the Swiss amateur leagues for years. So, who knows more about the game than him? And to be fair bad tackles ARE bad. Specifically the tackle by Birmingham City’s Martin Taylor that ended the season of Arsenal’s Eduardo da Silva and nearly severed his foot from his ankle. It was a sickening moment. But the referee did his job: Taylor got a straight red card. Premiership officials did their job: Taylor got an automatic three-game suspension. And Taylor has seemed genuinely contrite about his actions. But never one to shun a bandwagon ride, the DSB has demanded that the rules might not be sufficient. He wants to look at ‘the file.” While channeling his inner Stasi, perhaps he might want to reopen the Roy Keane-Alf-Inge Haaland file.

Keane’s autobiography admission of knee-capping his Norwegian nemesis drew an additional fine and five match suspension. It no doubt boosted sales of the book as well. The Swiss Alps did not echo with cries for life bans then.

The DSB might not be too ‘keano” on grandfathering lifetime bans on soccer players of yesteryear, (somewhere Leonardo is breathing a sigh of relief, which was a painful task for Tab Ramos after having his face broken by the Brazilian’s flying elbow at the 1994 World Cup), but he is dead set against his Scottish hosts being forced to play for a Great Britain team in the Olympic Games. Full disclosure: I also once spent a very pleasant few days at the Gleneagles Hotel. Like the DSB I was there on company business and avoided the golf course. I got my first (and so far, only) taste of haggis. A word of caution: If you are sitting next to your boss at a Gleaneagles dinner, and the bagpipes start blaring and a man in a pleated skirt with a knife tucked into his sock marches in a with a platter of seemingly unknown condiments; don’t worry. This is tradition in action. Poems will be recited, comestibles stabbed and plates of bland tasting fare put before you. Just don’t pour the accompanying wee dram of whisky on the food. That’s when things turn dire.

Perhaps someone at the Scottish FA gave the DSB a timely haggis tip. That might explain his willingness to stick it to the Sassenachs. Which is a shame. For all the talk of the London Games four years hence, both the England men’s and women’s soccer teams qualified for the Beijing Olympics this Summer. But no Brits allowed. As the DSB proudly proclaimed from his Highland lair: ‘you can’t have your cake and eat it.” That’s a bit rich coming from a man who has clearly eaten his share of cake. Worse though: No Wayne Rooney in Beijing (he’s only 22, wouldn’t even have to waste an overage pick on him.) No Aaron Lennon or Micah Richards slumming in the Athletes Village. And young Scottish talent such as Scott Brown, Allan Hutton and Steven Naismith don’t get a chance to whiff the pollution of China’s capital. (And wouldn’t it be fun to see Scotland’s Julie Fleeting in tandem with England’s Kelly Smith on the Olympic stage. But not to be.)

Politics trumps everything. The DSB is a master at keeping his presidential delegate count happy and firmly in his column. That might explain the Olympic boycott, but the technology blackout? If the delicate aerodynamic balance of a Formula One racing machine can allow for camera attachments, then surely a lipstick camera can be placed in each goalpost without disrupting the integrity of the beautiful game. I know NFL video replays can be tedious, but the zebras usually get it right. And the success of Hawkeye technology on the tennis tours’ proves that jocks and nerds can find common ground. But the DSB will not court such ideas. The freak show goes on. How many more Roy Carroll goal line saves does the game need? And for that matter, how many officials sitting like tennis line judges along the touchline? How insane is that? For every game two (four?) extra ‘referee’s assistants” will be required at every match to make sure that Geoff Hurst-style World Cup winners are never in doubt again. At corner kicks, will these ‘judges” sit inside the posts, ask the goal post to be moved so they can have a clear view of the goal-line, or ask defenders and goalies to stop blocking their view? Amazing.

So put away your digital all-seeing devices, pack away your Union Jack in your old kit bag, and forget about seeing Martin Taylor don a Blues jersey ever again. The DSB has spoken.

Doing my usual on-this-day perusals this morning, I discovered that one can field a pretty damn good starting nine with players born (and two who died) on March 12th. And so I’m doing exactly that. The lineup card is below. I present to you… the March 12′s.

1. Steve Finley, CF – Finley really characterizes this team on the whole – very good but not great. I’m happy to have him on the team, though, cause he’s scrappy, and if there’s one thing we like in Philly, it’s “scrappy.”

2. Frankie Frisch, SS - Frisch is one of the players who was not born but died on March 12th. Nevertheless, it’s an honor to have him with us – he’s probably our best player, definitely our only Hall-of-Famer. And what a natural two-hitter as well. Guy was a career .316 hitter.

3. – Darryl Strawberry, LF - How much more No Mas can you get than the Straw in the outfield and hitting in your three-hole? Gotta play him in left, though, for reasons that soon will be clear.

4. Dale Murphy, C - Have to take the early version of the Murph to fill the catcher’s position, so we don’t exactly get the MVP edition, but still, nice to have a backstop with some pop, not to mention a few Hall-of-Fame votes under his belt.

5. Jimmy Wynn, 3B – I know, I know… The Toy Cannon did not play third base. But we’re a little strapped for infielders on the March 12′s, and Wynn came up as a shortstop, so I’m hoping he can handle the hot corner. Frisch played a lot of third, but I’d rather have him at short and let Jimmy make the adjustment. I’ve been worrying about this all morning.

6. Raul Mondesi, RF - Here’s the reason I have to play Straw in left, and I can’t say I’m thrilled about it. Mondesi refuses to play anywhere but right, and yeah, he’s a better right-fielder than Darryl, but still, he’s such an asshole I just hate letting him get his way.

7. Gene Moore, 1B – Moore is my second player who died on March 12th, and what’s more, I couldn’t even find a baseball card for him (that’s his throwback jersey on the left – I actually was sort of surprised he even had a throwback jersey). AND he was a natural outfielder who only made the transition to first late in his career. In short, I’m not exactly doing Gene Moore proud, but I need him out there.

8. Shawn Gilbert, 2B – You are the weakest link, goodbye. I wish I could say those words, but I got no other second baseman. Gilbert was a lifelong minor leaguer who played 51 total games in the bigs. But look, I got a pretty fearsome starting seven hitting above him. So I say just handle the glove, Shawn, and let the other guys carry the bats for us.

9. Vern Law, P - I must say, I’m pretty damn happy with my starting pitcher. 1960 Cy Young winner, pitched in three games in the ’60 World Series and won two of them. Vern Law was a dependable workhorse, which is good, because it looks like he’s going to get about 162 starts for the March 12′s this year.

Some auxiliary positions for the March 12′s: Press Secretary, Ron Jeremy; Covering us the March 12′s in the local paper, Jack Kerouac; Playing the national anthem at every home game, Charlie Parker; Carrying the March 12′s weed, Pete Doherty; Designing the March 12′s team bus, Clement Studebaker; Writing the inscrutable, miserable, experimental play about the March 12′s for Broadway, Edward Albee.

I remember watching Juan Manuel Marquez fight Jimrex Jaca in November of 2006 and thinking, “Man, this Jaca kid is like Manny Pacquiao lite” – a Filipino southpaw with quick hands, a frenetic style, and a scary-looking straight left hand.

Marquez is certainly hoping that the similarities hold up this Saturday night when he faces the actual Pac Man, because he finished Jaca in the ninth with a face-blaster of a left hook that put the ersatz Pacquiao in a condition that the real Manny has not experienced in almost a decade now – KTFO. I present that KO to you below for your perusal, the No Mas Knockout of the Week, Marquez over Jimrex Jaca.

First off, let me congratulate our commenter Ryan for calling Nate Campbell’s upset of Juan Diaz last night. Of the three big favorites on display, I thought David Haye was the most vulnerable, and yo did I turn out to be wrong about that. But Ryan nailed it – Diaz was the one who got exposed, although I’m not exactly sure that exposed tells the story. But more on that later. I’m going to run down my thoughts in order of what I saw as the relative significance of these fights, with the disclaimer that they were all very interesting fights in their way and all set up great bouts for the future. (I apologize for the pitcureless post – Blogger seems opposed to photojournalism at the moment – I’ll put some in later when the environment is a little more, ah, conducive.)

A Star is Born
How much does David Haye love himself right now? And with good reason – you really couldn’t envision a better night for a fighter from the Jolly Old. Packed house at the O2 for an all-British smackdown, live television audience in America, and, to paraphrase Max Kellerman, a most “concussive conclusion” resulting from a tornado of blistering right hands that stopped Welshman Enzo Maccarinelli in the second round. There are still a lot of holes in Haye’s defense to wonder about, and his chin remains on trial in the media, but his handspeed and punching power simply cannot be questioned, and it seems as if hype and fact might be on a collision course as Haye makes his jump to the heavyweight ranks. After the fight, Haye went on a tirade against the current state of the heavyweight division in an interview with Al Bernstein, alluding to the “sucky” fight between Klitschko and Ibragimov (not exactly the most macho word choice there, Dave) and the dubious credibility of Sam Peter given his shaky performance against Jameel McCline. Haye insisted that it’s only matter of time before he cleans up the heavyweights and picks up where Lennox Lewis left off as a true heavyweight champion, and I’m inclined to say that he has excellent odds of doing exactly that. On that score, I’m ecstatic, because as I see it last night was a sensational evening for both David Haye and for boxing on the whole. This dude is young, great-looking, articulate (if slightly smarmy), and an exciting fighter to watch with real KO power. His Q rating has just gone through the roof and that’s with a bullet people. With all the great fighters and fights happening at the lower weight classes, all that boxing needs right now to catapult itself back into the mainstream of sports awareness is a heavyweight star, and for the first time in a long time, I think one may be rising on the horizon.

(One final note – I couldn’t help but notice that David Haye walked into the ring last night to the strains of “Ain’t No Stoppin Us Now,” the same song that another fighter used as his walk-in anthem for a turning point fight in heavyweight history, Larry Holmes, on his way to fight Kenny Norton in ’78 for the WBC belt.)

Sam I Am
As stoked as I was about David Haye’s performance, I have to give the night’s Academy Award for best post-fight speech to Sam Peter after a series of his heavy, roundhouse shots stopped Oleg Maskaev in the sixth round last night in Cancun. “I am the undisputed heavyweight champion, WHO’S NEXT!” Sam yelled maniacally, with Don King’s withered face hovering in the background. When Kellerman started to ask Sam about fighting one of the Klitschko brothers, before he could even get the question out, Peter blurted, “Tomorrow, I’m ready tomorrow.” It’s hard not to love Sam Peter, and you can’t argue with his enthusiasm, but that said I’m not sure I was that impressed with his win over Maskaev. I had Oleg up three rounds to two on the scorecards when it was stopped – I thought he was getting the better of a lot of the exchanges and actually was measuring Peter successfully on both the inside and out. Now, yes, when it came down to it Big Sam connected with one of his big paws and it was goodnight Irene. You can’t doubt Peter’s power and it’s a factor in any fight he’s in no matter how outclassed he might be. But for as much as Manny Steward was lauding Sam last night for evolving into a much more savvy boxer, I just didn’t see it. I saw a guy who’s easy to hit and who telegraphs his shots and who was getting outboxed and outthought by a 39-year-old who was a B-minus fighter at his best. Nevertheless, the Nigerian Nightmare continues, and it’s a highly entertaining sort of dream. There’s a throwback quality to Peter’s amateurish exuberance that you’ll take any day over Wlad Klitschko’s polished technique, and one thing is for sure right now – whichever Klitschko Sam fights next, it’s must-see TV, which is a nice thing to be able to say about a heavyweight fight.

Head and Shoulders
All credit to Nate Campbell, because The Galaxxy Warrior came to fight last night and he made that clear from the opening bell. He obviously believed his own hype stepping into the ring with Juan Diaz, and the force of his belief had him almost levitating in there. Nevertheless, I had him down four rounds to one after five and I think he was on his way to a noble but significant loss when the tide turned dramatically in the sixth round. There was some controversy about what happened, but no matter how you saw it, the result was the same – a cut that Nate had opened in the first with a headbutt (that to my eyes was no accident) was opened to a deep, ugly gash, and in a moment Diaz went from predator to prey. Campbell was docked a point in the sixth as the ref decided, seemingly after the fact, that the elongation of the cut had been caused by another headbutt. Replays showed that wasn’t the case, but Nate used his head so egregiously last night that I didn’t really mind him losing a point on one instance where he didn’t. The fight was terribly refereed, and I think that had a big effect on the way the fight went, because Diaz obviously was flustered with Nate’s head usage, but he’s just not the type of kid to do a lot of bitching in there. A better ref would have discouraged Nate’s tactics early on. As it was, he had free reign, and Nate is crafty as hell in there – you let him use his head as a weapon and he will use that shit.

I don’t want this to come off as sour grapes – I’ve outed myself before as a Diaz fan and I was rooting for him, but I also was very impressed with Nate and I’ve always liked him, so I was happy for him to have his moment. But I can’t say that the fight didn’t leave a bad taste in my mouth, because I thought the lion’s share of the damage to Diaz’s eye was caused by Nate’s continual head-swinging and butting – even the telltale punch in the sixth that busted the eye open came as Diaz was pulling his own head back and up to avoid Nate’s head/battering ram. And the eye was manifestly the story of the fight – before it was mangled, I had Diaz winning by a comfortable margin in a tough, entertaining fight. After the cut, he was done (Nate was merciless with his head after the cut), and it was only a question of whether he would make it all the way (he did, and lost a split decision, which was ridiculous – I had Nate winning 115-112 – there was absolutely no way to see that fight for Diaz).

Now whether you agree with my assessment of the proceedings or not, I think it’s hard to argue that at the very least a rematch is warranted, and the sad thing is there will be no rematch. Diaz’s team has had a highly publicized bitter dispute with Don King that really boiled over this past week, and King happens to have a piece of one Nate Campbell. That’s another reason I found the fight unpleasant, because it may have been even sweeter for King than it was for Nate.

But let me repeat – I give all credit to Nate Campbell. He was in amazing condition and he was in there to win (how about the matador get-up he wore into the ring? beautiful…). Even without the issue of the colliding heads and the eye, it was going to be a tough fight and I certainly can’t say with certainty that the Baby Bull was going to win it. I’d like to see them do it again under different circumstances (and get yourself a real cut-man for that one Baby Bull) but in that I doubt it will happen, I’m looking forward to Nate fighting the winner of Casamayor/Katsidis. And like most red-blooded fight fans, I’m hoping very actively that it’s Katsidis.

Tomorrow night is a boxing fan’s bonanza, no big-name, over-hyped fights with all of the concomitant pressures of crossover scrutiny (yeah, Wlad/Ibrag was wack, but Jesus, how many crappy football games were there last year?), just three bouts that all have the potential to provide fireworks and all have big implications for future action. I tell you, I’ll take a three-spot like that over ten Roy/Tito’s any day of the week. So without further ado, let’s get into it.

Oleg Maskaev v. Sam Peter (WBC Heavyweight Title)
Maskaev backed out of a fight with Peter last November, so the WBC named Big Sam as its interim champion with a proviso that he fight Maskaev for the belt once Oleg was healthy. Unfortunately for Peter, Jameel McCline took Maskaev’s place for the November date at the Garden and proceeded to have the fight of his life, nearly putting an end to the Nigerian Nightmare with a knockdown at the end of the second round and then two more in the third. Check it out:

The first knockdown was slightly bogus, because Sam collided with McCline’s shoulder and was already falling back when Jameel caught him with an uppercut and helped him along. But what happened in the third round was no joke, a beautiful right uppercut (almost, dare I say it, a bolo punch from Big Time McCline?) that made Sam do the dance, and then a right cross flush on the jaw to put him down and quite a-ways down queer street.

Most of what has been made of the McCline debacle has been to Peter’s credit, and I’m good with that to a certain extent. Sam clearly overestimated a guy who took the bout on short notice and was supposed to be shot and fighting on one good leg. Next thing he knows, Jameel is bobbing and weaving and throwing crisp one-twos and catches him with some gigantic, KO-worthy punches, and so he held on with heroic mettle and muddied through, ended up scratching out a decision that was deserved if a little overstated on the scorecards for my taste.

So yes, I give Peter his due on that count, but the fact remains that Jameel McCline is 37 years old and long past his best and should not have given Sam Peter such an ugly evening no matter what the circumstances (note – Jameel is on the undercard of Peter/Maskaev, fighting John Ruiz of all people. I almost wish they were showing that…). The Nigerian has next to no amateur experience and by all accounts is still learning on the job. In essence, he’s a slightly more evolved Edison Miranda, a man with charisma and lights-out punching power who has been brought along quickly because of his star potential despite the enormous flaws in his style. Last I looked, Vegas had Sam as a 5-1 favorite over Maskaev, which is fair when seen from one perspective, but oh people I think that’s a precarious bet. Maskaev is a big bag of potatoes, no doubt, but ask Hasim Rahman and he’ll tell you one thing about ole Oleg – the man can whale. And he do. I expect Peter to win this one, but I also expect him to eat a few facewreckers along the way, which should be fun for us all. One thing about Sam Peter – he’s without a doubt the most entertaining heavyweight on the scene.

(One final note on this fight – I was re-watching Peter/McCline the other night and I was reminded of one of my favorite things about Sam Peter – his cutman is the great Cornelius Boza-Edwards, the Ugandan junior lightweight legend who among many other great fights had two unforgettable wars with Bobby Chacon.)

Juan Diaz v. Nate Campbell (IBF Lightweight Title)
I believe that Diaz still owns the WBA and WBO 135 belts, but as far as I know only the IBF title is on the line in this fight against Nate “The Galaxxy Warrior” Campbell. I’ve been excited for this thing since it was made because though I think that Diaz will not have too tough a time with Nate, it should be an action-packed fight and an excellent gauge of just how good The Baby Bull really is. I can’t hide my journalistic bias on this one – I am a huge Diaz fan. Honestly, how could a true boxing fan not love this kid? He’s young, affable, and a ferocious fighter who goes all-out every second of every round. He also has just enough flaws in his game to make him interesting, and vulnerable perhaps to Campbell’s wiles. The Galaxxy Warrior has definitely been around the galaxxy a few times and has more than a few interstellar tricks in his bag. I have a sense that Nate has convinced himself that Diaz is overrated and that he’s going to be the one who exposes him. He should ask Popo Freitas about that. I see Diaz winning in a stoppage, but not before a some throwdown rounds where both men get some serious work done. I’m unabashedly rooting for The Baby Bull in this one despite the fact that I like Nate, because I very much want to see the Diaz/Amir Khan fight that has been rumored for a few weeks now. That would be the kind of fight that unfortunately is all too rare in boxing today – two young, up-and-coming superstars laying their reputations on the line. Let’s hope it happens.

David Haye v. Enzo Maccarinelli (WBA, WBC and WBO Cruiserweight Titles)
Everywhere I’m reading that this is the most significant cruiserweight unification fight in years, and I’m thinking “weren’t we saying that about O’Neill Bell and Jean-Marc Mormeck in ’06… and ’07?” How soon they forget. Of course, it’s one of Haye’s patented Hayemakers that impeded everyone’s memory, as he knocked out Mormeck last November with a karate-chop right hand to take the Frenchman’s belts. Haye is a very fashionable boxer to love right now, and for good reason. Fight fans are desperate for a big man that they can really get behind, and Haye does seem like an excellent candidate. He’s articulate, good-looking, he moves well and boxes extraordinarily well for a big man. All that and he knocks mf’s out too, knocks em out stone cold.

Win or lose, this will be Haye’s last fight at cruiserweight, because he has eyes on taking himself and his budding star up to hang with the big boys. Last I looked Haye was close to a 2-1 favorite over the Welshman, and though I see how it would be hard to handicap it any other way, I’m have my misgivings. I’ve seen very little of Enzo, but what I have seen has made it clear to me that he is no pushover, and if there’s any favorite that I see getting exposed tomorrow night, it would be the Hayemaker. There’s a bit too much hype surrounding him right now for what he’s actually accomplished. Yes, he knocked out Mormeck, but Mormeck knocked Haye down as well in the 4th round, and to be fair the Frenchman always has been a little suspect in the chin department. I’m not picking Haye to lose – honestly, I don’t know enough about either fighter to feel confident about a prognostification. But I just have a feeling that Haye isn’t everything that he’s cracked up to be right now, and that he may be set up for a fall merely from having read so many of his own press clippings.

(p.s. – my weekly boxing notes are up over at The Sporting Blog – I cover all three of the above fights and also talk about Pavlik’s future plans, including some info I got last night from the co-manager of Giovanni Lorenzo, not to mention a true friend of No Mas, Kurt Emhoff.)

(The mysterious Baggiesboy strikes again, filing this dispatch from St. Croix on that most No Masian of marriages – ODLH & MLS. So what, you ask, is Baggiesboy doing in St. Croix? Making the Virgin Islands safe for football I would imagine… -L)

Oscar De La Hoya has a new title: Major League Soccer team co-owner. Last week the Golden Boy purchased a stake in the two-time MLS reigning champion Houston Dynamo. For MLS the deal can be summed up in two words: wet dream. Rarely has the combination of the ‘Sweet Science” and the ‘Beautiful Game” produced such bliss. The boxing legend is young, dynamic, Hispanic and well versed in sports promotion and marketing. He also comes with a Q-rating in the ‘Beckham-sphere.” The Dynamo is a model MLS franchise in every way, except one: they need a stadium. With the six-time world champion in its corner, the Dynamo now has more than a fighting chance of clinching a stadium agreement with the City of Houston.

This, of course, is not the first time the squared circle has been pitched in the semi-circle. Back in June 1963, Muhammad Ali’s career nearly came derailed at Wembley Stadium, ‘the spiritual home of football.” When Henry Cooper, Britain’s beloved bleeding heavyweight, floored the then Cassius Clay at the end of the fourth round, the fates seemed poised to zip the ‘Louisville Lip.” Then Angelo Dundee faked out the fates by enlarging the split in one of the young contender’s gloves, thus creating a delay of game for the ages. Replacement gloves would quickly become mandatory at ringside after Dundee’s masterful dodge. But that would all come way too late for Cooper. The revived Clay ended ‘Our ‘Enery’s” shot at glory in the very next round. (Nearly three years later the pair met again. Clay was Muhammad Ali. He was also the world heavyweight champion and the fight was staged at another soccer ground of old , Highbury, former home of Arsenal. This time Ali only needed one pair of gloves.)

Big events demand big arenas. While Wembley Stadium can boast a World Cup Final and the young Clay, the Estadio Azteca in Mexico City has hosted two World Cup Finals and Julio Cesar Chavez. Chavez was the bigger draw. On February 20, 1993, Chavez beat Greg Haugen in front of 132,000 fans. It’s been nearly 10 years since De La Hoya beat the great Chavez for the second time. Will Chavez loyalists renew their Dynamo season tickets now that De La Hoya has a seat in the owners box? Being a fan means standing by your man. The Houston front office had better not be counting on the money of Chavez fans to help pay the wages of newly signed young Argentine forward Franco Caraccio.

Let’s face it: Strange things happen when boxing mixes up with soccer.

How about Rocky Balboa playing goalie on a team with Bobby Moore, Pelé, and Michael Caine? Ricky Hatton being the point man for the upcoming Wayne Rooney Las Vegas stag night? Or, what about Joe Bugner fighting Frank Bruno at White Hart Lane? A much younger Bugner went the distance with Ali, not once, but twice. As ‘The Thunder From Down Under,” he was downed in eight by Bruno.

Of course, pitched battle is fine as long as the protagonists have a canvas to fall on. In recent times though, a few soccer players have fancied themselves as prizefighters. And tried to find sparring partners among their teammates. Graeme Le Saux reportedly broke his hand on David Batty’ as their Blackburn Rovers team played at Spartak Moscow in a 1996 UEFA Champions League game. Bradford City’s Andy Myers might have missed his calling. He certainly didn’t miss teammate Stuart McCall in a 2001 EPL game at Leeds United. McCall has the stitches to prove it. But in perhaps the most notorious episode of footie fisticuffs of recent times Newcastle’s Lee Bowyer and Kieron Dyer had to be separated by a player on the opposing team during a 2005 EPL game against Aston Villa. When both parties had both finally gone to neutral corners, the referee gave them both red cards. The black mark lingers for both of them.

With all due respect to Sugar Ray Robinson’s ‘perfect punch” to close out Gene Fullmer in their 1957 rematch, the most memorable left hand I ever saw thrown came not at a prizefight, but at a soccer game. It was FA Cup fourth round day, 1975. The backdrop: an unknown side street between the Carlisle train station and Brunton Park. A visiting fan reacted to the usual cross-street welcome wagon by unscrewing his prosthetic left hand and hurling it at them. Unlike Robinson’s left, this one did not hit the mark. At the sight of the detached ‘Hand of God Knows What,” in the middle of the street, a policeman feinted on the spot.

Oscar De La Hoya’s tenure in Houston promises to be just as memorable. And if he wants to get up to speed on MLS stadium issues, then all he will have to do is take a quick tour of the Home Depot Center prior to his upcoming fight there against Steve Forbes. That stadium, like the Golden Boy’s Dynamo move, raised the league’s profile and gave it a new level of credibility.