The Sweet Science Tournament Of Boxing - Determining The Greatest

**hellinas00** · 10-03-2025, 10:18 PM

There are 8 tournaments per weight class of 168 fighters. It is a double elimination tournament. the winners of each brcket will move on to a final 8 tournament that will lead to an ultimate champion. Here are the brackets for the first grouping of heavy and middle weights.

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**hellinas00** · 10-03-2025, 10:20 PM

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The Final Bell – Launch Special: Middleweight Edition

Host: Jim Lampley
Panelists: George Foreman, Teddy Atlas, Larry Merchant

Segment 1 – Welcome to the Sweet Science

Jim Lampley: “Good evening, everyone. The wait is over. Tonight we kick off the most ambitious boxing project ever attempted — the Sweet Science Tournament. Two divisions, 1,344 fighters each, every era colliding, every style tested. And here on The Final Bell, we’ll be here every fight night to break it all down. George Foreman, Teddy Atlas, Larry Merchant — what a crew we’ve got.”

George Foreman: “You talk about history — this is history in motion. I know heavyweights get all the love, but those middleweights? They’re the most skilled fighters in the sport. Sugar Ray Robinson, Hagler, Monzón, Hopkins — that’s where the science really shines.”

Larry Merchant: “The tournament is a paradox: It’s both fantasy and reality. These fights never happened, and yet, they’re about to happen. And somewhere in this vast ocean of names, we will find out who was truly the best middleweight.”

Teddy Atlas: “And the double-elimination format means you can’t just be good once — you gotta prove it over and over again. That’s how you find out who’s real.”

Segment 2 – The Middleweight Pantheon

Lampley: “Let’s cut to it. The middleweight division has been called boxing’s deepest pool. Who’s the man to beat?”

Merchant: “Sugar Ray Robinson. Pound-for-pound, the greatest fighter who ever lived. If you’re asking for the betting favorite, start there.”

Foreman: “Robinson is great, no doubt. But don’t sleep on Marvin Hagler. He fought everyone, ducked no one. Southpaw, orthodox, durable as they come. Hagler could grind his way through this bracket.”

Atlas: “And what about Carlos Monzón? Sixteen title defenses, ice-cold in the ring. He might not get the glamour, but in a double-elimination grind, cold efficiency matters.”

Segment 3 – Dark Horses and Legacy Questions

Lampley: “Favorites aside, who’s the dark horse?”

Foreman: “Bernard Hopkins. Long career, fought into his forties. If anyone can outlast the marathon, it’s him.”

Atlas: “And don’t forget Harry Greb. People don’t talk about him enough — 300 fights, never stopped. If you want to know what toughness looks like, that’s your guy.”

Merchant: “And legacy is on the line. A fighter who makes a deep run here could change how we talk about him forever. Imagine if someone like Thomas Hearns went on a tear — we’d rewrite his story overnight.”

Segment 4 – Closing Thoughts

Lampley: “Gentlemen, final words for the middleweight bracket as we begin?”

Merchant: “This is boxing’s ultimate time machine. Whoever emerges, emerges not just as champion — but as immortal.”

Foreman: “I just want to see the fights. That’s where the truth lives.”

Atlas: “In this tournament, you’re not fighting eras — you’re fighting styles, wills, souls. That’s what’s on the line.”

🎙️ The Final Bell – Launch Special: Heavyweight Edition

Host: Al Michaels
Panelists: Sugar Ray Leonard, Emanuel Steward, Max Kellerman

Segment 1 – Heavyweights Rule the World

Al Michaels: “We shift now to the heavyweights — the glamour division, where legends are born. Ray Leonard, Emanuel Steward, Max Kellerman — welcome to the desk. Ray, you know better than anyone the aura heavyweights carry.”

Sugar Ray Leonard: “Absolutely. When the heavyweights are right, boxing is right. This tournament is a dream. Ali, Tyson, Louis, Foreman — every icon you can imagine. It doesn’t get bigger than this.”

Emanuel Steward: “And styles make fights. You’re talking about the slick science of Ali, the power of Foreman and Tyson, the technical brilliance of Joe Louis. Every matchup is a classic waiting to happen.”

Segment 2 – Who Is the Greatest?

Kellerman: “The eternal debate: Ali, Louis, Marciano, Tyson. For me, Ali has to be the favorite — speed, chin, stamina, charisma. He could adapt to anybody.”

Steward: “Joe Louis is the complete package. Perfect balance, perfect technique. If anyone’s built for this format, it’s Louis.”

Leonard: “I can’t forget Mike Tyson. At his peak, nobody brought more intimidation. In a random draw, a guy like Tyson could run through half the bracket before anyone knows what hit them.”

Segment 3 – The Marathon and the Minefield

Michaels: “1,344 fighters. Double elimination. Who can last?”

Steward: “That’s where durability matters. Ali, Holyfield, Lennox Lewis — guys who could win a war, not just a fight.”

Kellerman: “And don’t count out Jack Johnson. In his time, he fought with weight, skill, and control. His style could frustrate modern guys.”

Leonard: “And sometimes the overlooked names — Jersey Joe Walcott, Ezzard Charles — those guys could spoil anyone’s run.”

Segment 4 – The Heavyweight Legacy

Michaels: “Gentlemen, closing thoughts. Who will history remember from this?”

Kellerman: “Whoever wins this, wins more than a title. They win the argument. They become The Guy.”

Steward: “We’ll find out not just who was the greatest — but who could adapt across generations. That’s what makes this special.”

Leonard: “One thing’s for sure: The heavyweights will give us moments we’ll never forget. And by the end, the debate changes forever.”

**hellinas00** · 10-03-2025, 11:03 PM

Fight Night #1
Live from Westshore DoubleTree Hotel, Tampa, Florida

Middle Weight Fight -
Sammy Daniels (24-32) vs Phinney Boyle (78-40)

Sammy Daniels (Middleweight, USA)

Sammy Daniels was an American middleweight active during the 1990s and early 2000s. While not a household name, he was a durable professional who fought mostly on the regional circuit. Known for his hand speed and compact combinations, Daniels often played the role of gatekeeper — testing rising contenders who had to get past him to make their way into the rankings. His best nights showed a fighter with quick reflexes and a willingness to trade, though he sometimes struggled against physically stronger or more rugged opponents.

Daniels’s career record hovered around the even mark, but he earned respect for his toughness and work ethic. He was never an easy out, and his stamina often carried him deep into fights where his ring IQ allowed him to steal rounds. In this tournament, Daniels represents the breed of journeyman who can surprise anyone if they take him lightly.

Phinney Boyle (Middleweight, Ireland)

Phinney Boyle hailed from Ireland, a rugged middleweight who fought professionally through the late 1980s and into the 1990s. Boyle was not known for finesse but for grit — a fighter who leaned heavily on toughness, durability, and a grinding inside style. He had a reputation on the Irish and UK circuit as a man who never quit, giving prospects long, punishing nights even if he came up short on the scorecards.

Though Boyle rarely reached the top levels internationally, his bouts often turned into brawls that tested the will of his opponents. His heart, chin, and pride were his calling cards. In a long tournament like this one, Boyle has the style to frustrate slicker boxers, dragging them into ugly fights where conditioning and toughness are more important than skill.

Heavy Weight fight
Jo-El Scott (21-2) vs Buster Mathis (30-4)

Jo-El Scott (Heavyweight, USA)

Jo-El Scott, from Schenectady, New York, was once considered a dangerous heavyweight prospect in the mid-to-late 1990s. Standing tall with long reach and explosive power, Scott’s early career was marked by highlight-reel knockouts that earned him attention as a future contender. However, his career was derailed by personal troubles outside the ring and lapses in discipline, leaving many to wonder what could have been had his talent matched consistent focus.

In the ring, Scott was unpredictable but dangerous. His right hand was a legitimate weapon, capable of ending a fight suddenly, and he had the physical gifts to trouble slower, heavier men. Entering the Sweet Science Tournament, Scott represents the classic “wild card” — a man who might flame out early, or just as easily turn heads with a shocking knockout.

Buster Mathis (Heavyweight, USA)

Buster Mathis was a well-known American heavyweight from the 1960s, best remembered for sharing the ring with legends. A huge man for his time, Mathis had surprising agility and quick hands for his size, traits that allowed him to compete against the very best. He fought Joe Frazier in 1968 for the New York State heavyweight title, losing by knockout after giving a spirited effort. Later, he went the distance with Muhammad Ali in 1971, showcasing his toughness and durability against the greatest of them all.

Though Mathis never won a world title, he was respected as one of the top heavyweights of his era, consistently testing champions and contenders alike. Known for his granite chin and resilience, Mathis often absorbed tremendous punishment yet kept coming forward. In this tournament, his experience against all-time greats and his size make him a formidable opponent for any aspiring heavyweight.

Weigh-In Show

Sammy Daniels (Middleweight, USA):
“Been waitin’ for this stage all my life. Folks don’t know my name yet, but they will after tonight. Phinney Boyle’s tough, sure, but I’m quicker, sharper, and I’ll show it. This tournament’s the kind of chance you dream about, and I’m here to make my mark.”

Phinney Boyle (Middleweight, Ireland):
“Americans always talk too much. In the ring, it’s not about words, it’s about fists. I fight with heart, and I’ve fought tougher men than Daniels. He’ll learn soon enough that Irish fighters don’t back down. This’ll be a war.”

Jo-El Scott (Heavyweight, USA):
“They put me in with Buster Mathis? Big name, big body, but I’m here to shock everyone. I’ve got the power, the speed, and the hunger. Heavyweights get remembered for knockouts — and I’m givin’ the people one tonight.”

Buster Mathis (Heavyweight, USA):
“I’ve been in with the best, and I know how to fight. Young guys like Scott think it’s easy, think one punch solves it all. But boxing’s skill, it’s smarts. I’ve got the chin, I’ve got the experience, and tonight I’m going to prove why I belong in this tournament.”

Middle Weight Fight

(Tampa, FL) — Announcer: J.D. Lyons • Referee: Rocky Burke • Judges: Horacio Castilla (COL), Bill Graham (USA), Jerry Roth (USA) • Ring card: Jena Bloggs • 12 rounds, non-title.

Round-by-Round

Round 1 — Daniels 10-9
Daniels jumps Boyle early, trapping him in the neutral corner and ripping a body combo, then stuns him with a nasty uppercut and a hook-ish shovel shot. Boyle steadies late with a hard cross and jab, but the damage is Daniels’.

Round 2 — Boyle 10-9
Boyle finds rhythm at mid-range: jab-crosses, short hook inside, cleaner work while Daniels’ offense hits arms and gloves. Clinches and resets favor Boyle’s pace.

Round 3 — Daniels 10-9
Tight, chippy round. Boyle lands a few crosses, but Daniels answers with quick uppercuts in close and digs the body late to nick it.

Round 4 — Daniels 10-9
Even early, then Daniels doubles the hook downstairs and sneaks an uppercut under Boyle’s chin. Boyle’s swings get wide; Daniels’ jab spots points.

Round 5 — Boyle 10-9
Back-and-forth frame. Boyle jabs to the chest and mixes head-body, then switches briefly to southpaw. Daniels rocks him with a late hook, but Boyle’s steadier volume edges it.

Round 6 — Daniels 10-9
Daniels bullies to the inside, clips Boyle with a clean uppercut and stacks body-head combinations. Boyle lands a rib hook but spends long stretches tied up or turned.

Round 7 — Boyle 10-9
Boyle answers with his best round to that point: uppercut inside, cross to the body, quick 3-punches while Daniels looks for single, loaded shots.

Round 8 — Daniels 10-9 (warning to Boyle)
Messy, clinchy round. Burke warns Boyle for a low blow and later for leaning on the neck. Daniels lands the one big shot — a heavy overhand right that buzzes Boyle — and that’s the difference.

Round 9 — Boyle 10-9
Momentum swings again. Boyle’s jab and a violent straight right hurt Daniels mid-round, plus thudding body work. Daniels rallies with a flush hook and a few straights, but Boyle banked the first two minutes.

Round 10 — Daniels 10-9
Daniels corrals Boyle on the ropes more consistently, lands jabs and a crisp inside uppercut. Boyle scores in spots but spends time smothering and getting broken by Burke.

Round 11 — Boyle 10-9
Physical round with a lot of tying up. Daniels has bursts, but Boyle lands the cleanest shot — a solid uppercut — and wins the better exchanges down the stretch.

Round 12 — Daniels 10-9
With it close, Daniels wins ring geography: pins Boyle, drops a hook and steady flurries, then clinches smartly to blunt returns. Boyle digs late to the body, but the final word is Daniels’ pressure.

Majority Decision — Sammy Daniels

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Bill Graham: 115–113 Daniels
Horacio Castilla: 114–114 Draw
Jerry Roth: 115–113 Daniels

Compustats Snapshot

Accuracy: Daniels 16.9% | Boyle 34.1%
Landed per round: Daniels 17.5 | Boyle 19.9
Misses per round: Daniels 86.2 (lots of pressure and volume) | Boyle 38.5
Fouls: Boyle warned for low blow and for leaning on the neck; no cuts.

Keys to the Fight

Geography & Moments: Daniels’ best minutes came when he pinched space and worked uppercuts (Rds 1, 6, 8, 10, 12). The Round-1 stun set the tone; Round-8 overhand right was pivotal.
Boyle’s Craft: Cleaner rate and body investment (7, 9, 11) kept it razor-thin, but lapses and two referee cautions hurt his momentum.
Closing Strong: Daniels banked the final round with pressure and clinch management — exactly what you need in a 115–113 type fight.

Result: Sammy Daniels opens the Sweet Science Tournament ledger with a gritty, crowd-pleasing majority decision.

Heavyweight Fight

Referee: Steve Smoger • Judges: Raul Caiz, David Sutherland, Soeren Saugmann • Ring card: Jenny Bloggs • 12 rounds scheduled (10-round TKO). Commentary: Mathis walks Scott down, then wins on cuts

From the opening bell, Buster Mathis fought the big-man’s fight with small-man feet — constant side-to-side, touch-touch volume, and a jab that wouldn’t clock out. Jo-el Scott hunted single, violent answers and had his moments (a venomous uppercut in Round 2; a thudding right at the bell in Round 5), but Mathis kept banking minutes with body hooks, bump-and-shoot uppercuts, and steady ring generalship.

The fulcrum of the bout became a cut over Scott’s left eye (opened in the 3rd, re-opened in the 4th, managed, then re-opened again in the 8th and 9th). Twice Smoger called in the physician, and twice Scott was allowed to continue — but each revisit took a little more wind from the red corner. Fouling didn’t help the optics: Mathis was warned for hitting on the break and holding-and-hitting (and docked a point in the 9th for persistent infractions), yet even with the deduction he was pulling ahead on work-rate and body investment.

By the late rounds, Mathis had Scott reacting: rolling the right, thumping the ribs, then sliding up with short uppercuts that snapped Scott’s head back. In the 10th, a brisk Mathis surge re-opened the gash decisively. With blood streaming and vision compromised, Smoger halted the action for the doctor — and the ringside physician waved it off. Officially: Buster Mathis TKO (doctor stoppage) at 2:25 of Round 10.

Cards at the stoppage (through 9): Caiz 86–84 Mathis, Sutherland 87–83 Mathis, Saugmann 88–82 Mathis.
CompuStats snapshot: Mathis landed ~35 punches per round at 50%+ accuracy, out-jabbing and out-combining Scott; Scott’s power was real, but he chased clean looks and bled clock (and blood).

Round 10 — TKO sequence (2:25)

0:00–0:30 – Scott opens with urgency, drilling an early uppercut (0:08). Mathis answers to the body: two ripping hooks to the ribs (0:17, 0:27) and a short hook inside (0:39). Scott’s inside uppercut is picked off.

0:45–1:30 – Mathis surges: three-punch head salvo (0:57), then paintbrushes the midsection (1:08), adds a short cross to the body (1:17) and clean uppercut (1:26). Another tight uppercut lands at 1:35 as Mathis keeps Scott on the end of short shots. Scott’s counters are missing high; Mathis’ head movement is dialed in.

1:50–2:10 – Scott loads a right, Mathis ducks under (1:50). Mathis strings it together: combination at 1:59, jab to the body at 2:08, and walks Scott to a corner. Crowd rises.

2:20–2:25 (stoppage) – Mathis pins Scott and sticks a stiff jab (2:20) that re-opens the left-eye cut. Blood is immediate and heavy; Scott is blinking hard. Smoger stops the clock and calls the doctor (2:20–2:24). After a quick inspection, the ringside physician rules the cut too severe to continue. Smoger waves it off at 2:25.

Official Result: Buster Mathis def. Jo-el Scott — TKO (Doctor Stoppage), 2:25 of Round 10.

Postfight quick notes

Mathis’ keys: jab volume, body attrition, short uppercuts inside, lateral resets.
Scott’s moments: Round-2 uppercut, Round-5 right hand; sporadic but dangerous.
X-factor: management of the left-eye cut — once it re-opened clean in the 10th, the fight’s trajectory ended at the doctor’s table.

Result - Technical Knockout win by Buster Mathis Round 10

Howard Cosell — Final Editorial

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“Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun not with trumpets, but with truths. In Tampa’s chandeliered ballroom, the Sweet Science reminded us that boxing is the negotiation of space and consequence. Sammy Daniels won not simply because he struck more memorably, but because he understood—at critical junctures—that the ring is a chessboard, not a barroom. He made Phinney Boyle walk where he wished him to walk, and in a tournament that measures temperament as much as talent, that is no small revelation.

As for Buster Mathis, the cynic will mutter, ‘A cut ended it.’ Nonsense. A cut is not an aberration; it is a verdict rendered by accumulation. He spoke a steady prose: the jab as topic sentence, the body blows as argument, the short uppercut as conclusion. Jo-El Scott flashed what we already knew—that danger lives in his right hand—but danger, unescorted by craft, is a tourist. Tonight it found the wrong neighborhood.

This grand enterprise—two divisions, double elimination, a procession of the known and the nearly forgotten—will not be won by pyrotechnics alone. It will be won by men who can repeat themselves with purpose: the round after a hard round, the night after a hard night. Daniels offered a thesis on composure; Mathis, on method. Each will need both as the field narrows.

Remember this opening note, for years hence someone will say, ‘Where did it truly begin?’ And the answer will be: in a hotel ballroom in Tampa, where the Sweet Science declared, with understated certainty, that the story belongs to those who command the clock, the canvas, and themselves. I am Howard Cosell—good night.”

**hellinas00** · 10-04-2025, 09:56 AM

Fight Night #2
Brackett 1 - Winners - Round 1
Bulk Center Tuscaloosa AL

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Middle Weight Fight -
Rhoshii Wells (18-2) vs Sebastien Demers (31-5)

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Rhoshii Wells (United States)

Record: 18–2–0 (12 KOs)
Born: Chicago, Illinois
Stance: Orthodox
Height: 5'9" | Reach: 71"
Trainer: Buddy McGirt

Commentary:
Rhoshii Wells represents a unique generation of American fighters who carried the Olympic pedigree but never quite found the professional spotlight their amateur promise deserved. A bronze medalist at the 1996 Atlanta Games, Wells was a brilliant technician — elusive, rhythmic, and cerebral. His defense is rooted in economy of motion; he doesn’t waste energy, instead drawing opponents in with subtle head feints and sudden counters. Wells’ jab is his conductor’s baton — everything he does follows its tempo.

But beneath his quiet confidence lies a man with something to prove. His pro career, interrupted and underappreciated, left unfinished business. Now, in this tournament, Wells enters not as a prospect but as an artisan seeking redemption. Expect crisp angles, patient setups, and a fighter whose intellect is as sharp as his hook.

Sébastien Demers (Canada)

Record: 31–5–0 (11 KOs)
Born: Saint-Hyacinthe, Quebec, Canada
Stance: Orthodox
Height: 5'10" | Reach: 72"
Trainer: Yvon Michel

Commentary:
Demers is the essence of Canadian craftsmanship — disciplined, analytical, and quietly durable. A product of Montreal’s storied boxing circuit, he came up through a scene rich with fundamentals, learning the value of precision and patience. He’s not a knockout artist, but a methodical constructor of rounds: consistent jab, straight right, calculated pace.

Demers’ success stems from rhythm control. He slows down quicker fighters, frustrates punchers, and scores off their impatience. His weakness? Sometimes too cautious — he can let the fight drift instead of seizing momentum. But when locked in, he’s a surgeon, dissecting opponents with textbook efficiency. Against Wells, he faces a mirror image — the question is whose mind dictates the tempo first.

The Fight

Under the bright lights of the Belk Center, Jake Gutierrez’s voice cut through the crowd and Stanley Christodoulou brought the men together. From the opening bell, Rhoshii Wells showed intent: quick step inside, hook to the body, shoulder roll out. Sébastien Demers answered with the classic Montreal school—measured jab, small steps, straight right down the pipe. The first frame belonged to Demers’ neatness, his jab snapping Wells’ head and keeping the American honest at range.

Wells adjusted in the second. He shortened the ring, threaded an uppercut through Demers’ guard, then clattered him with a right cross that drew a murmur from the students on the lower rail. The body work arrived in threes—tap, tap, thud—and Demers’ tidy guard had to drop to address the ache in his ribs. A clinchy third favored Demers’ quick counters in close, but the momentum was shifting.

Round four was the hinge. Wells doubled the left hook and rocked Demers, then poured on a compact burst that bent Demers at the waist. Demers steadied himself with a cross to the body, but the tone had changed; Wells had found the pocket and he wasn’t leaving it. Through the fifth and sixth he invested downstairs—hooks under the elbow, a mean right to the liver—then climbed the ladder with tight uppercuts that lifted Demers’ chin just enough to keep him cautious.

By the seventh, Wells looked like a man who had solved the puzzle. He walked Demers to the ropes behind a bustling jab, then picked single, heavy shots—nothing wild, everything meant. Demers kept faith with his two-jab-right rhythm and found the target in flashes, but the exchanges were happening on Wells’ terms. When Demers tried to buy time with ties and turns, Christodoulou’s breaks only returned him to center where Wells stepped in again.

Demers fought his best round in the tenth. He snapped the double jab clean, split the guard, and opened a slice over Wells’ right brow. For a heartbeat the fight threatened to tilt; the Canadian strung together a neat four-punch rally that forced Wells to reset. Kenny Adams’ man blinked through the red, set his feet, and answered with a short, mean cross to keep the frame from running away.

The championship rounds told the story of conditioning and conviction. Wells forced the clinches to his chest, dug short hooks, and slipped Demers’ late right hands by inches. In the twelfth, he closed the show like a veteran: body-body, then a crisp cross that startled Demers and an uppercut that snapped the head back. No knockdowns, no theater of disaster—just control.

When it ended, Josie Bloggs made one last turn around the ring, the corners clasped gloves, and Gutierrez read the totals: 116–112 across the board. A unanimous decision for Rhoshii Wells—won not by dazzling accuracy but by geography, pressure, and a ledger of body shots that emptied Demers’ legs. Demers left Tuscaloosa with his reputation intact: a composed, precise technician who just needed more volume in the middle frames. Wells left with something more tangible—proof he can dictate pace over twelve, even when cut, even when the jab across from him is sharp.

Official Decision
All three judges score it 116–112 for Rhoshii Wells (Paolillo, Berger Fucs, Denkin).
Winner: Rhoshii Wells by Unanimous Decision.

Heavyweight Fight-
Bobby Halpern (10-4) vs Battling Bozo (56-39)

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Bobby Halpern — “The Bronx Brawler”
Bobby Halpern is one of the sport’s most unlikely and unforgettable stories. Born and raised in the Bronx, New York, Halpern was once a promising amateur with a heavy right hand and a short fuse. But his early years were consumed by chaos — prison sentences, street fights, and missed opportunities. He spent nearly two decades behind bars before making one of the strangest comebacks in boxing history, returning to the ring in his mid-forties to chase the ghost of the fighter he might have been.

Halpern is not a craftsman of the sport; he’s its raw nerve. His style is as straightforward as his life has been complicated — pressure, punishment, and persistence. He doesn’t jab to set up punches; he jabs to start trouble. Every round with Halpern is a test of courage, for both men involved. His chin is scarred, his technique uneven, but his heart is unbreakable.

Tonight, under the lights of Tuscaloosa, Halpern enters not just to fight an opponent, but to fight time itself — to prove that redemption can be earned one punch at a time.

Battling Bozo — “The People’s Journeyman”

If Bobby Halpern represents redemption, Battling Bozo represents resilience. A fighter with more miles than medals, Bozo has seen every kind of ring, from dimly lit armories to state fair tents. His nickname — half affection, half irony — hides the truth that he’s one of the most durable journeymen to ever lace up gloves.

He fights not for fame, but for the fight itself. There’s no glamour in his style — just grit. He’s not fast, but he’s tireless. Not powerful, but unrelenting. He wins by staying when others quit. He’s been knocked down, beaten, and bloodied, but never broken. Fans love him not because he’s destined for greatness, but because he refuses to go quietly.

Bozo enters the Sweet Science Tournament as the embodiment of the sport’s soul — the man who keeps showing up. Against Halpern, he meets a fighter with demons of his own, and that’s what makes this bout compelling. Not titles, not rankings — but two men, two hard lives, and one truth: only one will walk away with his story rewritten.

The Fight

R1
Bozo shows ring generalship early—jabs to body and head, light flurries, feet always in motion. Halpern tries to close distance but can’t set his feet. 10–9 Bozo.

R2
Body attack from Bozo—and a thudding shot to the ribs drops Halpern to both knees. He rises at eight and survives, but Bozo banks a big frame with momentum. 10–8 Bozo (Bozo up 20–17).

R3
Quiet, cagey. Bozo’s quick cross and inside uppercut score, Halpern lands a few jabs late. Close, but cleaner work to Bozo. 10–9 Bozo (30–26).

R4
Bozo keeps Halpern on the perimeter, flicks jabs to the solar plexus, then sneaks an uppercut inside. Halpern rallies with a single heavy hook to the body late. Still Bozo 10–9 (40–35).

R5
Even tempo: Bozo’s jab-rights puncture the guard; Halpern answers with an occasional cross. Bozo edges it with volume and accuracy. 10–9 Bozo (50–44).

R6
Stop-and-go round with lots of clinches. Bozo lands low—ref Nelson deducts a point and also warns for holding-and-hitting. Despite Bozo’s better shots, the deduction flips a likely Bozo round into 9–9 on style; functionally, Halpern avoids further damage on the cards. (Approx: 59–53 Bozo through six.)

R7
Bozo resumes control—short hooks inside, busy jab outside. Halpern’s power is blunted; fatigue shows. 10–9 Bozo (69–62).

R8
Halpern briefly hurts Bozo with a clean right, but Bozo steadies and outworks him down the stretch with jabs and short uppercuts. 10–9 Bozo (79–71).

R9
Clinchy, messy frame. Halpern muscles in for body shots; Bozo answers with jabs and an uppercut. Marginal round—call it even on tone (some cards split), but judges had Bozo still well ahead overall.

R10
Bozo’s best late-round stretch: cross to the midsection, tidy two-punch combinations, and he makes Halpern miss repeatedly before Halpern nails him with one big cross near the bell. Still 10–9 Bozo (Bozo cruising).

R11 — Disqualification (:51)
The round opens with rising tension. Nelson tells Bozo to stop leaning on the neck and moments later warns about elbows. At :51, Nelson rules Bozo’s elbow use blatant, immediately waves it off, and disqualifies Bozo. Halpern, trailing badly, wins by DQ.

Official Decision
Bobby Halpern Wins By Disqualification

Fight Commentary (What Happened & Why It Blew Up)

Bozo took the fight away early—slick feet, sharp jab, and a body attack that produced a Round-2 knockdown. He dictated geography and pace, keeping Halpern off balance and limiting exchanges. Halpern had isolated moments (notably R8 and a late R10 cross) but never strung sustained offense.

The story underneath was discipline. Bozo flirted with the edge all night: clinches and shoves when Halpern got close, low blow in R6 (cost him a point), cautions for holding-and-hitting, leaning on the neck, and then escalating to elbows. Nelson’s pattern was consistent—warn, penalize, warn again. When Bozo threw what Nelson read as a blatant elbow in R11, the referee enforced the ultimate sanction.

From a ringside optics standpoint, the DQ felt shocking because Bozo was cruising on the cards and had just weathered Halpern’s sporadic rallies. But in the referee’s ledger, this was the culmination of repeated infractions, not a one-off call. You can win the tactics and lose the terms.

Halpern’s side will argue the fouls were systematic and sapped him in close—neck leverage, low shots, and roughhouse tactics that prevented him from setting and throwing. Bozo’s camp will likely protest the abruptness at :51 of the round, saying a second deduction (or last warning) could have sufficed in a non-title bout.

Howard Cosell — Editorial to Close the Night

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“Controversy, that faithful barnacle on the hull of prizefighting, has again taken possession of our evening. Battling Bozo, the journeyman who boxed as if he had discovered a private geometry of the ring, led by margins wide enough to satisfy the most parsimonious judge. He jabbed with industry, he moved with purpose, and he deposited Bobby Halpern upon the canvas with a body shot that echoed like a gavel in a quiet court.

Yet, in the eleventh, we learned—again—that talent and tactics are impotent without temperament. The referee did not act in a vacuum; he acted after chapter and verse of prior misdeeds. A low blow that extracted a tithe, leaning on the neck that drew rebuke, and, finally, the elbow—undeniable, indelicate, disqualifying. Boxing is a compact: two men meet in a violent debate, but under rules that protect the debate from becoming a brawl. Break the covenant, and the covenant breaks you.

As for Halpern, the Bronx Brawler persists—stubborn as a streetlamp, flickering yet unextinguished. He did not win the argument of aesthetics; he won the argument of endurance. He was present when the other man abandoned his manners, and in this brutal symposium, presence counts.

So let us not drown in the shallow water of outrage. Let us demand the only antidote that satisfies the sporting soul: a rematch, swift and unequivocal. Same stage, sterner terms, and no alibis. Then, perhaps, the Sweet Science will give us what it owes—clarity, hard-earned and unambiguous.”

**hellinas00** · 10-05-2025, 06:53 AM

Fight Night #3
From the Omni In Atlanta Georgia

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Middleweight Fight

Gene Hairston (45-13) vs Alain Bonnamie (21-9)

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Alain Bonnamie (Canada)
Record: 45–13–2 (26 KOs)
Born: Harlem, New York, USA
Career Span: 1948–1954
Style: Orthodox, high-volume pressure fighter
Nickname: “Silent Hurricane”

Gene Hairston was one of the most inspiring figures of his era — a fighter who defied the odds in every sense. Deaf from childhood, Hairston became a professional boxer in the late 1940s and quickly gained a reputation for his relentless pace and incredible stamina. Trained by the legendary Cus D’Amato, Hairston was known for his aggressive, body-first attack that wore down more technically gifted opponents.

At his peak, Hairston was ranked among the top middleweights in the world, challenging future Hall of Famer Kid Gavilán in Madison Square Garden and pushing him the distance. His fights were often crowd-pleasers, filled with furious exchanges and little backing down. Hairston was respected as much for his courage as his punching power — a man who turned his disability into fuel for greatness.

Even after his retirement in the mid-1950s, Hairston remained a symbol of perseverance and heart. Among boxing historians, he’s remembered as one of the sport’s great overachievers — a fighter who always left everything in the ring.

Alain Bonnamie (Canada)
Record: 33–8–3 (17 KOs)
Born: Montreal, Quebec, Canada
Career Span: 1990–2002
Style: Switch-hitter, slick counter-puncher
Nickname: “The Executioner from Montreal”

Alain Bonnamie brought modern technique and sharp counterpunching to the Canadian middleweight scene in the 1990s. A polished, cerebral fighter, he mixed traditional boxing fundamentals with an instinctive defensive rhythm — slipping shots, pivoting, and responding with crisp hooks and straight rights.

Bonnamie captured multiple Canadian and regional titles, earning international respect for his 1999 bout against future world champion Wayne Alexander, a brutal contest that showcased his durability and heart. Despite never holding a world championship belt, Bonnamie’s longevity and professionalism made him a fixture in North American rings for over a decade.

In his prime, Bonnamie was a dangerous technician — patient, disciplined, and precise. His ability to adapt in the ring made him a tricky opponent for brawlers, and his counter-punching style often frustrated more aggressive foes. Today, he’s regarded as one of Canada’s most underrated middleweights of the late 20th century.

The Fight

Middleweight Bout Commentary — Alain Bonnamie Majority Decision Gene Hairston
Venue: The Omni, Atlanta • Ref: Jürgen Langos • Judges: Eric Fetzer (116–112 Bonnamie), James Jen-Kin (115–113 Bonnamie), Richard Flaherty (114–114)

Quick read: A chess match that turned into a tug-of-war. Bonnamie’s jab, feet, and timely crosses banked rounds early and again late. Hairston’s mid-fight surge—body work and short uppercuts—nearly stole it back. No knockdowns, but two momentum swings and a nervy finish produced the majority decision.

Round-by-round shape of the fight

Early control (R1, R3–4): Bonnamie set the terms with pace and geography. He circled, picked with the jab, and walked Hairston onto short rights, especially when he had him in the corners. Hairston landed to the body in spots but spent too much time resetting. (Fetzer gave Hairston only R2 in the first four.)
Momentum flip (R2): Hairston detonated a clean cross that shook Bonnamie and forced clinches. That moment reminded everyone he could change the temperature with one timed shot.
Tactical grind (R5–6): Hairston shortened the ring—jabs up top, hooks to the ribs, then the little shovel-uppercut. He blunted Bonnamie’s counters with gloves high and shoulders tight. R6 was a clear Hairston frame as he finally won the jab exchanges and added a crisp cross late.
Inside work paying off (R7–8): Hairston’s best sequence of the fight: ribs, ribs, head. Bonnamie’s movement got more linear; he grabbed and turned to buy breath, drawing a warning for holding/hitting. Hairston’s accuracy edge (28.6% to 19.3% overall) showed here—cleaner shots, less waste.
Big swing round (R9): Hairston hurt Bonnamie to the body, then snapped his head back with a cross and had him briefly unsteady. The Omni came up. This was the “if there’s a 10-8 without a knockdown” type of feel—dominant, if not officially lopsided.
The rally (R10): Corner man Kevin Rooney lit a fire; Bonnamie answered with the best right cross of his night, visibly buzzing Hairston. He paired the cross with a steadier jab, won the exchanges, and stemmed the tide.
Penultimate control (R11): Bonnamie’s veteran craft: tie up the arms, step around, touch with the jab, and drop the short hook. Not dramatic, but it banked a crucial card.
Nervy finish (R12): Hairston roared with a three-piece that wobbled Bonnamie, then jabbed him backward—his crowd-pleasing surge. Bonnamie answered with a neat right over the top and enough ring generalship late that two judges leaned his way; Flaherty sided with Hairston.

Why the cards looked like they did

Volume vs. sharpness: Bonnamie landed more overall per round (19.25 to 18.00) even with lower accuracy. Judges often reward the fighter “doing more things,” and his jab (5.83 per round to Hairston’s 3.5) constantly scored and controlled distance.
Banked frames: Fetzer saw Bonnamie winning most of the “quiet” rounds—1,3,4,5,7,10,11,12—where the jab and right hand were steadier than Hairston’s single big moments.
Swing rounds: 8, 10, and 12 were the arguments. Hairston clearly owned 8 on most eyes; 10 and 12 split the room. Jen-Kin favored Bonnamie’s late steadiness; Flaherty valued Hairston’s heavier, cleaner bursts—hence the draw on his card.
Intangibles: Frequent clinches (and one caution for holding-and-hitting on Bonnamie) made aesthetics messy. In messy fights, judges revert to jab, ring control, and who finished halves stronger. Bonnamie did just enough in those categories in more rounds.

Tactical grades

Bonnamie: A- for discipline. The jab and the timely right cross won him the night; the clinch game saved him in 8–9.
Hairston: B+ for body investment and inside craft. His best work was from mid-chest distance—hooks and short uppers—but he let a few early and late rounds drift while searching for the perfect entry.

The takeaway
A defensible majority decision for Bonnamie in a fight that could plausibly read 114-114 or 115-113 either way depending on how you scored R10 and R12. Hairston’s mid-fight body assault and Round 9 surge made it dramatic; Bonnamie’s jab, feet, and Round 10 answer likely won the room.

Heavyweight Fight

Jean Pierre Coopman (36-16) vs George Old Godfrey (22-6)

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Jean Pierre Coopman (Belgium)
Record: 36–16–1 (19 KOs)
Born: Ingelmunster, Belgium
Career Span: 1970–1980
Style: Orthodox, distance boxer
Nickname: “The Lion of Flanders”

Jean Pierre Coopman represented the pride of Belgian boxing during the 1970s, an era when European heavyweights struggled to make waves internationally. A tall, lean fighter with a strong jab and admirable ring IQ, Coopman fought with a quiet dignity — more craftsman than destroyer. His fame reached its peak when he challenged the legendary Muhammad Ali for the heavyweight championship in 1976 in San Juan, Puerto Rico. Though vastly outmatched, Coopman’s courage and composure in the ring against the greatest of all time earned him global respect.

Coopman’s style was rooted in fundamentals: a steady jab, tight guard, and counterpunching instincts that allowed him to survive against harder hitters. He often fought behind his reach advantage, preferring to box cautiously rather than brawl. His weakness was power — his punches lacked the kind of pop that could stop elite opponents — but his intelligence and toughness kept him competitive.

In Belgium, Coopman remains a folk hero, remembered as the man who carried European hopes into the lion’s den against Ali. Though his career never reached championship heights, his grit, professionalism, and humility made him a respected figure in boxing lore — a reminder that heart and courage often transcend the record book.

George Godfrey (United States, 1890s–1900s)
Record: 31–7–3 (22 KOs)
Born: Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island, Canada (fought out of Boston, USA)
Career Span: 1883–1895
Style: Brawler with deceptive defensive instincts
Nickname: “Old Chocolate”

George Godfrey was one of the earliest great Black heavyweights — a pioneer who paved the way for Jack Johnson and every champion of color who followed. Born in Canada and fighting primarily in the United States during an era of brutal racial exclusion, Godfrey was denied a chance at the world title despite being among the best heavyweights of his day. Fighting in the bare-knuckle-to-gloved transition period, he brought a combination of raw power, ring savvy, and unshakable composure that set him apart from his contemporaries.

At 6’3” and over 200 pounds, Godfrey possessed a commanding physical presence and a devastating right hand. He fought the likes of Jake Kilrain and Peter Jackson, proving his mettle against the most respected men of the 19th century ring. While the “color line” of the time prevented him from competing for world honors, Godfrey was widely regarded as the Colored Heavyweight Champion of the World, and his fights often drew crowds curious to see his blend of intelligence and ferocity.

In stylistic terms, Godfrey was a rugged technician — part bruiser, part tactician. He relied on body work, uppercuts, and a steady pressure that broke down opponents over time. His patience in the ring reflected his dignity outside of it — a man forced to fight twice as hard for half the recognition.

Among historians, George Godfrey’s legacy is immense. He stands as one of the true founding fathers of heavyweight boxing, a man who carried himself with quiet defiance and unmatched skill during one of the sport’s most unforgiving eras.

The Fight
Heavyweight Feature — George “Old Chocolate” Godfrey KO9 Jean-Pierre Coopman

Venue: The Omni, Atlanta • Ref: Gary Ritter • Judges: Glenn Feldman, Roberto Ramírez, Wan-Soo Yuh

Headline: Godfrey drags Coopman into the 1890s—and finishes him with a ruthless ninth-round knockout.

Opening temperature (R1–2): Power meets poise

R1: Coopman started responsibly—feints, jab, long looks—but the first Godfrey right hand changed the air. A straight right, followed by a thudding shot high on the head and a hook to the jaw, had the Belgian rocking. Coopman answered late with a head-snapping hook that momentarily steadied him, but the message was sent: Godfrey’s power arrived early.
R2: The pace dipped, and that favored Coopman’s eyes and feet. He picked with a short uppercut and a few jabs, but Godfrey’s paralyzing mid-round flurry and heavy hook reasserted command. Through two, the older-school heavyweight had already found the timing lane.

Godfrey takes the wheel (R3–4)

R3: Godfrey began to mix levels—jab upstairs, body rip, then a compact uppercut. Coopman’s long-range combinations grazed; Godfrey’s short shots landed. The Boston-based pioneer edged ring geography and inflicted more.
R4: The first real alarm for Coopman. Godfrey uncorked a wicked uppercut that turned legs to jelly, then layered hooks. Coopman tried to buy time with jabs and movement, but another hook and a cross kept him pinned. This was the blueprint: get close, cut the ring, punish.

The attrition sets in (R5–6)

R5: Godfrey’s inside craft took over—uppercuts and short rights to the body, then a shoulder-nudge to create space for another hook. Ritter warned him once for rabbit punching, but the damage had been done.
R6: Godfrey’s most professional round to that point: steady body work, jabs as levers, and a cross to the ribs. Coopman’s offense thinned to singles and hopeful lunges; Godfrey banked the frame cleanly.

Coopman’s last push (R7)

R7: To his credit, Coopman produced his best stretch—right cross, then a neat hook, and a sequence downstairs with Godfrey momentarily buzzed by a counter right. He hustled with his feet and bought exits along the ropes. On two cards he may have nicked it, but the overall ledger still leaned heavily to Godfrey.

The knockdown that cracked the fight open (R8)

R8: After some grappling and warnings (Coopman leaning on the neck), Coopman stung Godfrey with a heavy cross—his last big moment—and The Omni perked up. Godfrey answered with a jab to the body, then, with space created, detonated a brutal left hook that dropped Coopman hard. Coopman beat the count at eight but came up shaky. The round closed with Godfrey pressing and the building buzzing.

The finish (R9 — 2:14)

Early R9: Godfrey smelled blood and boxed with urgency—hook downstairs, hook upstairs, and the jab turning into a spear. A minute in, a power cross put Coopman down again. He rose at eight, glassy but willing.
The hunt: Godfrey didn’t smother his work. He jabbed Coopman into the corner, layered another jab-cross, and dug the body to freeze the feet.
The coup de grâce (2:14): As Coopman tried to slip out, he walked into a rising uppercut—old-school, center-knuckle, short and mean. Coopman folded “section by section,” the textbook description for a perfect up-the-middle finish. Ritter reached ten as Godfrey raised his hands. KO at 2:14 of Round 9.

Why it ended the way it did

Shot selection & efficiency: Godfrey landed 33.9 punches/round at 57.2%, absurd heavyweight efficiency. Coopman managed 15.1 at 20.3%—too much air, not enough leather.
Range control: Coopman needed a slow, long fight behind a jab. Godfrey denied it with steps, frames, and body shots that took the spring out of Coopman’s legs by the middle rounds.
Damage profile: Three knockdowns (R8 hook, R9 cross, R9 uppercut) tell the story. Godfrey’s punches were shorter, heavier, and thrown when Coopman was squared or exiting.

Cards at the time of the KO

All three judges had Godfrey widely ahead (Feldman 78–73, Ramírez 78–73, Yuh 79–72 through eight), reflecting the cumulative control and the knockdown.

Postfight notes

Godfrey: Looks every inch the forgotten titan—patient pressure, mean inside work, and finishing instincts. This is what historians meant by “champion in an era without opportunity.”
Coopman: Courage and moments of craft (late R1, R7, early R8), but he was outgunned at every critical distance. Against a puncher with Godfrey’s economy, his single-shot rhythm wasn’t enough.

Howard Cosell — Closing Commentary
(Live from ringside at The Omni, Atlanta)

Howard Cosell:
“Ladies and gentlemen, what you have witnessed tonight at The Omni is more than pugilism — it was the living chronicle of boxing’s soul. Two fights, separated by decades, united by courage, purpose, and the unyielding will of men who refuse to be forgotten.”

He pauses, his voice rolling with the gravity that only Cosell could summon.

“Gene Hairston — the Silent Hurricane — came to us from a time when adversity wasn’t a slogan, it was a shadow that followed you into the ring. Deaf, unflinching, proud, he fought as though he could hear the rhythm of the crowd in his chest. Against Alain Bonnamie, a slick, modern technician from Montreal, Hairston found himself in a duel of geometry and grit. It was not a brawl. It was a negotiation — one man fighting the air, the other fighting time. In the end, Bonnamie’s precision prevailed on paper, but the spirit of Hairston carried the night. He lost the decision; he did not lose the dignity of his defiance. The judges tallied points, but the audience counted heartbeats — and on that score, Hairston was rich indeed.”

He adjusts his tone, the camera drawing in as the crowd noise fades behind him.

“And then came the main event — the resurrection of George ‘Old Chocolate’ Godfrey. For half a century before Joe Louis, before Jack Johnson claimed the world’s conscience, there was Godfrey — fighting in the margins, banned from championships, exiled from equality, but never from excellence. Tonight, beneath the lights of Atlanta, he fought not only Jean-Pierre Coopman, the stoic Belgian challenger, but also the injustices of his own century. Round by round, he peeled away the veneer of time. The jab became a sermon, the body work a declaration, and that ninth-round uppercut — oh, that uppercut — was a punctuation mark a hundred years in the making.”

Cosell lowers his voice now, rich with gravitas, the weight of history thick in the air.

“Jean-Pierre Coopman deserves his share of honor. The man who once stood before Ali stood again tonight before legend — and went down swinging. But George Godfrey, make no mistake, wrote himself into history with gloves instead of ink. He fought with the urgency of a man reclaiming something stolen, and when Coopman crumbled, you could almost hear the applause of the ghosts who never saw him crowned.”

He turns toward the ring, still illuminated, the crowd buzzing with that strange blend of awe and melancholy that follows great violence.

“Boxing, you see, is not merely about who wins or who falls. It is about remembrance. It is about the echo of courage reverberating through generations. Tonight, in The Omni, the Sweet Science reminded us that time cannot erase greatness — it can only delay its ovation.”

He leans into the camera for his closing line — part elegy, part sermon.

“From Gene Hairston’s silence to George Godfrey’s thunder, the ring remains eternal — a place where every man’s truth is revealed under the light. This is Howard Cosell, reminding you once more — sport is drama, drama is truth, and tonight, we have seen both in their purest form.”

**hellinas00** · 10-06-2025, 06:41 AM

Fight Night #4
Venue - Gimnasio Chico de Hierro, Cartegena Colombia
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Middleweight Fight
Walid Smichet (21-8) vs Bucky Lawless (78-47)

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The Fighters

Walid Smichet (Lebanon / Canada)

Record: 21–8–3 (15 KOs)
Stance: Orthodox
Style: Aggressive pressure fighter
Born: Beirut, Lebanon
Resides: Montreal, Quebec, Canada

Known to Montreal fans as “The Warrior of the Plateau,” Walid Smichet fought with an unrelenting, crowd-pleasing style that made every bout a war. He came to prominence in the Canadian middleweight scene in the early 2000s, earning a reputation for his chin, his ferocity, and his willingness to trade. Smichet’s biggest moment came in 2008 when he nearly upset unbeaten John Duddy at Madison Square Garden in a brutal slugfest. Though he lost a close decision, Smichet earned admiration for his relentlessness. Trained in the hard gyms of Quebec, he embodies the rugged toughness of the Lebanese diaspora—relentless, compact, and willing to walk through fire to land his own shots.

Strengths: Relentless pressure, body punching, crowd energy.
Weaknesses: Limited defense, vulnerable to slick counterpunchers.

Bucky Lawless (United States)

Record: 129–41–18 (49 KOs)
Era: 1920s–1930s
Style: Technical boxer-slugger
Born: Auburn, New York
Notable Opponents: Jimmy Slattery, Lou Brouillard, Leo Kelly

A fighter straight from the pages of boxing’s Depression-era circuit, “Fighting Bucky” Lawless was the kind of man who fought anywhere, anytime, often multiple times per month. He was the quintessential “Iron Man” of his era—one who fought over 180 recorded bouts, with hundreds rumored. Lawless’s career spanned the golden age of barnstorming middleweights. He was no stranger to controversial decisions, but he became a regional legend in upstate New York, where his name filled smoke-stained posters across Buffalo and Syracuse.

Strengths: Experience, ring savvy, excellent jab, durable chin.
Weaknesses: Age, limited power at higher levels, cuts easily.

The Fight

Venue: Gimnasio Chico de Hierro, Cartagena, Colombia — Date: 2025-10-06
Announcer: Jake Gutierrez • Referee: Ernst Salzgeber
Judges: Chuck Giampa (USA), Marcos Torres (PAN), Rick Crocker (USA)

Result: Bucky Lawless def. Walid Smichet — Unanimous Decision (117–111, 119–109, 116–112) Bout narrative

Round 1 – Lawless sets the tone (10–9 Lawless):
Quick hands and a busy jab keep Smichet at bay. A sharp hook upstairs at 2:09 buzzes Smichet and stamps early authority.

Round 2 – Sparring match, edge Lawless (10–9 Lawless):
Lawless picks and pecks, steering with the jab and tying up when needed. Smichet lands a neat uppercut late but can’t sustain pressure.

Round 3 – Smichet’s best early frame (10–9 Smichet):
He finally cuts the ring and scores to the body and with a tidy uppercut. Momentum flickers, but Lawless’s feet remain a problem to solve.

Round 4 – Control and craft (10–9 Lawless):
Lawless goes downstairs in combinations, doubles the jab, and turns Smichet repeatedly. Clean, professional work.

Round 5 – Competitive but slippery (10–9 Lawless):
Smichet has moments inside; Hunter—ever the fox—answers with short shots and movement. Exchanges are close, ring generalship isn’t.

Round 6 – Exchanges favor volume (10–9 Lawless):
Both trade more freely; Smichet lands a solid right, but Lawless’s multi-punch replies and jab control win the frame.

Round 7 – Drama & cut (10–9 Lawless):
Smichet opens a cut above Lawless’s left eye with a tight uppercut, prompting a doctor check. Lawless answers with jabs and composure; Smichet is warned for rabbit punches, Lawless for an elbow. Crowd on its feet.

Round 8 – Veteran adjustment (10–9 Lawless):
Corner work closes the cut; Lawless boxes beautifully, jabs to score and smothers Smichet’s rushes. Smichet warned for a low blow.

Round 9 – Another cut, same story (10–9 Lawless):
Smichet blasts an uppercut that opens a right-eyelid cut on Lawless; second doctor check. Lawless steadies, bodies Smichet, and jabs out the round.

Round 10 – Clinches and control (10–9 Lawless):
Tempo dips. Lawless stays tidy, scoring in twos and threes while Smichet’s offense gets muffled in clinches.

Round 11 – Pulling away (10–9 Lawless):
Clean body-head combos from Lawless, who wins exchanges and inside pockets with quicker hands.

Round 12 – Professional close (10–9 Lawless):
Smichet chases, misses; Lawless splits the guard with straights and walks to the finish line. Why the cards looked like they did

Ring generalship: Lawless dictated range and tempo in at least 8–9 rounds, living behind a busy jab and lateral movement.
Clean punching: Two cuts on Lawless made things tense, but the cleaner, repeated connections were his.
Defense: Smichet’s aggression met air far too often.

CompuBox-style summary

Punches landed/round: Smichet 13.8, Lawless 32.8
Accuracy: Smichet 13.1% (missed ~91 punches/round), Lawless 45.3%
Jabs/round: Smichet 2.7, Lawless 9.3
Combinations/round: Smichet 2.4, Lawless 11.2
Fouls: Smichet warned (rabbit punch, low blow); Lawless cautioned (elbow).
Cuts (Lawless): Above left brow (R7) & right eyelid (R9); both evaluated; corner (Brady) successfully stemmed flow twice.

Tactical read

Lawless: Executed a classic “box and turn” blueprint—feint, jab, step, recycle—then body-head flurries when stationary. Followed a defensive outside plan nearly perfectly after each corner talk.
Smichet: Best success came when he jabbed his way in and threw the short uppercut; but over-eager entries, clinch-heavy midfight, and overtrained legs left him a step behind.

Turning points

R1 shocker: Early hook puts Smichet on notice and frames the range battle.
R7 cut/doctor check: Brief momentum for Smichet evaporates as Lawless resets and outjabs him.
R9 second cut: Another scare; veteran poise from Lawless to pocket the round late and quell the rally.

Heavyweight Fight Fight
Leo Lomski (104-27) vs Mike Hunter (26-7)

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The Fighters

Leo Lomski (United States)

Record: 82–19–6 (36 KOs)
Born: Chehalis, Washington, USA
Era: 1920s–1930s
Nickname: The Chehalis Comet
Style: Pressure boxer with technical patience

Leo Lomski was one of those hard-bitten prizefighters who came up swinging in the Pacific Northwest lumber towns of the 1920s. He turned pro as a teenager and fought nearly every week in obscure arenas and smoky halls. Known for his courage, stamina, and will to brawl, Lomski became a contender in the light heavyweight division during the late 1920s, earning matchups with names like Jack Delaney and Tommy Loughran. He never quite reached a world title, but he earned respect as a man who gave hell to anyone who tried.

Strengths: Ring toughness, inside fighting, body attack.
Weaknesses: Defensive lapses, slower footwork, vulnerable to reach.

Mike “The Bounty” Hunter (United States)

Record: 26–7–2 (8 KOs)
Born: Cleveland, Ohio, USA
Era: 1980s–1990s
Style: Slick, unorthodox counterpuncher

A street-hardened fighter with charm, chaos, and craft, Mike “The Bounty” Hunter became one of the more intriguing names of the early ’90s heavyweight scene. A natural light heavyweight who bulked up to face larger men, Hunter compensated for his size disadvantage with cunning defense and dazzling reflexes. His biggest win came over Oliver McCall before McCall became world champion, and he gave future titlists Michael Moorer and Buster Mathis Jr. hard nights’ work. Known for clowning in the ring but focused when hurt, Hunter was a puzzle — unpredictable, fearless, and difficult to hit cleanly.

Strengths: Defense, speed, movement, ring IQ.
Weaknesses: Durability against heavy hitters, lapses in discipline.

THE FIGHT
Heavyweight Bout: Leo Lomski vs. Mike “The Bounty” Hunter

Venue: Gimnasio Chico de Hierro, Cartagena, Colombia • Date: 2025-10-06
Announcer: Michael Pass • Referee: Gerald Ritter
Judges: Allen Krebs (USA), Donnie Jessup (USA), Manuel Maritxalar (ESP)
Result: Leo Lomski def. Mike Hunter — Split Decision (115–113 Hunter, 116–114 Lomski, 116–113 Lomski)

Fight story

Round 1 – Hunter’s speed shows (10–9 Hunter):
Hunter’s quick counters—especially the short uppercut—catch Lomski as the Comet tries to close range. A late Hunter combination rattles Lomski and pockets the frame.

Round 2 – Momentum swing (10–9 Lomski):
Body work and a thudding straight right from Lomski change the tone. Hunter’s right eye begins to swell after heavy mid-round pressure. Cartagena crowd erupts.

Round 3 – Back-and-forth (10–9 Hunter):
Lomski rocks Hunter early, but Hunter’s inside digs and right to the body steady him. Cleaner work down the stretch gives Hunter the edge.

Round 4 – Classic Lomski pressure (10–9 Lomski):
Grinding hooks to the ribs, jab-cross resets, and rope control. Hunter lands a few uppers but the swelling worsens and Lomski dictates geography.

Round 5 – Razor close (10–9 Hunter):
Hunter’s left-rights thread the guard and he’s warned for holding/hitting; Lomski lands a punishing cross late that wobbles Hunter, but the faster hands nick it for Mike.

Round 6 – Hunter’s rhythm vs. Lomski’s stubbornness (10–9 Hunter):
Jabs and two-punch counters from Hunter, including tidy body shots; Lomski’s right eye shows puffiness and his misses mount.

Round 7 – Big Lomski moments (10–9 Lomski):
Two heavy crosses—one nearly buckles Hunter—swing the frame. Hunter rallies with combinations but the Comet’s thump and ring position carry it.

Round 8 – Scrappy, clinch-heavy (10–9 Even/lean Hunter or 10–10 on some cards):
Warnings to Lomski for leaning; Hunter sneaks in an uppercut, then switches rhythm but misses in southpaw. Low output, boos from the crowd.

Round 9 – Lomski’s breakthrough round (10–9/10–8 feel without KD):
Vicious body attack pins Hunter; swelling balloons and fatigue shows. Multiple rib-benders and a heavy shot at the bell leave Hunter rubber-legged.

Round 10 – Hunter steadies (10–9 Hunter):
Body cross, accurate jabs, and better exits. Lomski clinches more than usual; Hunter’s corner urges discipline and he delivers a tidy, economical round.

Round 11 – Lomski pours it on (10–9 Lomski):
Massive hook and uppercut sequences have Hunter hurt again. The right eye is a mess and the Comet storms the stretch with heavy leather.

Round 12 – Veteran close (10–9 Lomski):
Lomski outworks, outmuscles, and out-lands; Hunter lands a few to the body but spends much of the round tied up or covering. Bell sounds with both exhausted.

Why Lomski got it

Territory control: Lomski kept Hunter near corners/ropes in at least Rounds 2, 4, 7, 9, 11, 12, swinging late-close frames.
Damage profile: No cuts, but Lomski’s body/head sequences produced significant right-eye swelling on Hunter and visible wobbles in Rounds 2, 7, 9, 11.
Championship rounds: Lomski clearly took 11 & 12, which swayed two cards his way.

Punching and tactics at a glance

Volume vs. efficiency: Lomski threw far more (missed 103.8/rd, landed 23.6/rd, 18.5%) while Hunter was clinical (18.2/rd landed, 49.4%). Judges favored Lomski’s ring generalship and damage in the heavier rounds.
Shot mix: Lomski led in hooks (5.5/rd) and crosses (5.6/rd); Hunter led in combinations (5.3/rd) and kept uppercuts as a check hook inside.
Fouls/cautions: Both warned (Lomski for holding head & hitting and neck leaning; Hunter for low blow and holding/hitting).
Injury management: Hunter’s corner battled swelling from R2 on; no doctor stoppages, but vision plainly compromised late.

Swing rounds that decided it

Round 4: Lomski’s sustained body work and ring control.
Round 9: Pivotal—near 10-8 without knockdown; Hunter badly hurt and gassed.
Round 11: Big hooks/uppercuts from Lomski sealed momentum into the finish.

Howard Cosell — The Final Word

Ladies and gentlemen, what we witnessed beneath the corrugated roof of this Cartagena gymnasium was not merely pugilism—it was a referendum on time itself. In the middleweight tilt, Bucky Lawless, a man from the sepia pages of boxing’s scrapbook, reminded us that intelligence, the most underrated component of violence, can still conduct the orchestra. His jab spoke a language the younger man could not translate. He was cut, yes—but he was never confused. And that, in this game, is conquest.

Then came the heavyweights, those eternal avatars of appetite and ambition. Mike Hunter brought guile, a sly grin, the geometry of the ring drawn with a fine pencil. Leo Lomski brought a chisel. The eye swelled, the space tightened, and at the crucial junctures—those twelve or twenty-four breaths when a fight becomes a verdict—Lomski took the canvas and painted in bold strokes. No knockdowns, and yet the impression of damage—the kind that changes minds and judges alike.

We ask our sport to decide the unanswerable: craft or pressure, efficiency or insistence, minutes or moments. Tonight, Cartagena gave us both answers, two chapters bound by sweat and the roar of a crowd that demanded honesty. Lawless offered his in combinations; Lomski offered his in resolve.

Remember this, my friends: the Sweet Science is not a museum; it is a living argument. And on this night, under these lights, with the sea air heavy and the banners hanging, the argument was beautiful. This is Howard Cosell. Good night from Colombia.

**hellinas00** · 10-07-2025, 06:12 AM

Fight Night #5
Venue: Coliseo Carlos Teo Cruz, Santo Domingo

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MiddleWeight Match
Jonathon Reid (35-19) vs Donald Curry (34-6)

The Fighters

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Jonathon Reid (USA)
From: Providence, Rhode Island, USA
Era: 1990s–2000s
Height/Weight: 6’0”, 160 lbs
Trainer: Eddie Mustafa Muhammad
Cut Man: Joey Fariello
Style: Orthodox — technical boxer with a counterpuncher’s patience and a rhythmic jab.
Career Background:
Reid came to prominence on The Contender reality series but was already a respected regional fighter before television fame found him. Known for his composure, slick movement, and ring IQ, Reid represents the archetype of the disciplined technician — never flashy, but always intelligent. His best years were spent battling durable opposition on the middleweight circuit, earning a reputation as a thoughtful tactician who can adapt to any pace.
Legacy:
While never a world champion, Reid’s professionalism and resilience made him a model of consistency. In this tournament, he’s viewed as a cerebral spoiler — a fighter who can frustrate and out-think his opponents if given the chance to dictate tempo.

Donald “The Lone Star Cobra” Curry (USA)
From: Fort Worth, Texas, USA
Era: 1980s
Height/Weight: 5’10”, 160 lbs
Trainer: Dave Gorman
Cut Man: Ace Marotta
Style: Orthodox — fluid, fast, textbook technique; punishing combinations.
Career Background:
Donald Curry was one of the smoothest and sharpest technicians of the 1980s. A former unified welterweight champion and one of the last men to bridge the classic and modern eras, Curry’s rise was meteoric. He possessed one of the finest jabs of his generation, paired with precision timing and body punching that broke opponents down systematically.
Legacy:
Curry’s peak form was short-lived but brilliant — his dismantling of Milton McCrory in 1985 remains one of boxing’s great masterclasses. Though later struggles at higher weights dimmed his dominance, Curry is still remembered as one of the most complete boxers of the mid-1980s — a technician with the soul of a finisher.

The Fight

Venue: Coliseo Carlos Teo Cruz, Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic
Date: October 7, 2025
Division: Middleweight
Result: Donald Curry defeats Jonathon Reid — KO, Round 1 (0:35)
Announcer: Joe Antonacci | Referee: James Jen-Kin
Judges: Chuck Giampa, Ray Hawkins, Lynne Carter
Ring Card Girl: Ecaterina Pasiakos

In one of the most stunning and abrupt finishes in Sweet Science Tournament history, Donald “The Lone Star Cobra” Curry delivered a thunderclap of a left hook just eighteen seconds into Round 1, flattening Jonathon Reid and sending a packed Santo Domingo crowd into pandemonium.

The fight had barely begun. The humid air inside the Coliseo was still settling from the opening bell when Curry, coiled like a spring, stepped forward behind a feinting jab and unleashed a perfect left hook that detonated on Reid’s chin. The sound echoed — a whip-crack of timing and precision. Reid went down hard, eyes dazed, his legs refusing the commands of his mind. Referee James Jen-Kin began his count, and the crowd joined in in disbelief.

“Siete… ocho… nueve… diez!” The referee’s final count was drowned out by the eruption of the Dominican fans.
At thirty-five seconds of the opening round, Reid was still motionless on one knee, and Curry was already on the ropes, arms raised high in triumph.

OFFICIAL RESULT

Time of stoppage: 0:35 of Round 1
Winner by Knockout: Donald Curry

Heavyweight Fight
Sergey Kovalev (36-5) vs Abraham Okine (14-6)

Sergey “The Krusher” Kovalev (RUS)
From: Kopeysk, Russia
Trainer: Buddy McGirt
Cut Man: Miguel Diaz
Style: Orthodox – Precise, clinical, relentless pressure with heavy artillery.
Career Background:
Though known for his time at light heavyweight, Kovalev has entered the heavyweight division for this tournament seeking redemption and legacy. Once one of the most feared punchers in the sport, Kovalev combined surgical accuracy with bone-rattling power, his jab functioning more like a spear than a setup. His rise through the 2010s saw him dominate champions, unify titles, and embody the icy efficiency of the Eastern European style.
Legacy:
Kovalev’s reputation was that of a destroyer — the man who knocked out opponents not through brawling, but through controlled violence. Even past his peak, the Krusher remains a master of distance and timing, and his right hand still demands respect. The question here: can he carry that menace against larger men and withstand heavyweight punishment?

Larry Merchant: “Kovalev is the kind of fighter who doesn’t come to dance — he comes to enforce his will. And when he’s patient, when he’s balanced, he’s one of the purest destroyers of his generation.”

Teddy Atlas: “But at heavyweight, he’s going to find out what happens when the punch that lands on him belongs to a 240-pound man. It’s not physics — it’s fate. If he doesn’t move his head, he’s gonna pay rent to Okine for every second he’s in that ring.

Abraham “The Lion of Accra” Okine (GHA)
From: Accra, Ghana
Trainer: Adjei Mensah
Cut Man: Chris Barretto
Style: Orthodox – Aggressive, durable, heavy-handed brawler with explosive overhand power.
Career Background:
Okine never got the global spotlight, but in West Africa he was revered as a warrior. Known for wars fought under the humid heat of Accra’s Bukom Arena, Okine’s stamina and chin became legend. He’s the kind of fighter who turns bouts into battles of attrition — dragging opponents into close quarters where his looping rights and thudding hooks can change the fight in a heartbeat.
Legacy:
Okine embodies the Ghanaian fighting spirit — unbreakable, fearless, and always pressing forward. He may lack the polish of a Kovalev, but he more than compensates with heart and firepower.
Max Kellerman: “This is what boxing was built on — the craftsman versus the brawler, art versus grit. Kovalev will try to paint a masterpiece, and Okine will try to burn the canvas.
”Bert Sugar: “The Coliseo’s the perfect place for it — hot, loud, and unpredictable. We’ve got a Russian hammer and a Ghanaian anvil. Sparks, gentlemen. Sparks.”ChatGPT Image Oct 7, 2025, 06_11_38 AM.png

The Fight

Venue: Coliseo Carlos Teo Cruz, Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic
Date: October 7, 2025
Announcer: Joe Antonacci • Referee: Dave Parris
Judges: Levi Martinez (USA), Daniel Van De Wiele (BEL), Rogelio Perez (PAN)
Bout: 12 rounds, tournament (non-title)
Result: Sergey Kovalev TKO5 (1:34) over Abraham Okine

Fight Summary

Sergey Kovalev brought the crowd to a rolling boil with a measured, punishing performance that built from early body work to a ruthless finish. From the opening bell he stalked Abraham Okine, pinning him to corners and carving at the ribs with hooks and straight rights. The pattern was clear by the middle of Round 1: Kovalev set the range with a stiff jab, then sank heavy shots downstairs; Okine felt the weight and was briefly shaken.

Round 2 gave Okine his best flashes—he steadied behind a jab and clipped Kovalev with a sharp hook that snapped the head back at 2:38. Kovalev, however, answered with uppercuts and never ceded command for long; the action was rugged and close.

The fight slowed into inside grappling in Round 3, where Okine tried to maul and sap Kovalev’s legs. Clinches, shoulders, and short counters traded hands, but Kovalev’s ring-center control and patience told.

Everything changed in Round 4. After a brief warning to Kovalev for rabbit punching, he reset, timed Okine’s entry, and detonated an overhand right that dropped Okine to a knee at 2:35. Okine beat the count at nine but rose on unsteady legs. Kovalev pounced with compact uppercuts to close the round as the arena roared.

With blood in the water, Round 5 was a dismantling. Kovalev tore into the body—right hands to the solar plexus, ripping uppercuts through the middle, and a spearing jab that kept Okine pinned. A clean right snapped Okine again, and a sustained salvo along the ropes forced Referee Dave Parris to stop it at 1:34, with Okine still on his feet but taking heavy fire.

Officials’ View at the Stoppage

Martinez: Kovalev 40–36
Van De Wiele: Kovalev 40–36
Perez: Kovalev 39–37 (gave Okine the 3rd)

Kovalev had banked every card comfortably and had scored the lone knockdown (R4).

Compubox-Style Snapshot

Knockdowns: Kovalev 1, Okine 0
Accuracy: Kovalev 56.7% vs. Okine 24.0%
Kovalev out-landed Okine by roughly 3:1, averaging ~29 connects per round to ~11, with telling edges in jabs, hooks, and uppercuts.
Fouls: 1 warning to Kovalev (rabbit punch), no deductions.

What Decided It

Body investment early: Kovalev’s downstairs work in R1–2 drained Okine and set up the head shots.
Distance control: The jab and subtle foot pressure kept Okine square and along the ropes.
Momentum swing in R4: The overhand right knockdown broke the posture and forced Okine into survival mode; the finish in R5 was inevitable from there.

Aftermath

Kovalev reintroduces himself as a legitimate threat in the tournament’s heavyweight field: patient, cold-blooded, and still a brutal finisher. Okine showed grit and a dangerous hook in spots, but he was out-gunned by cleaner mechanics and a smarter pace.

THE FINAL BELL — Fight Night #5 Post-Fight Show

Location: Coliseo Carlos Teo Cruz, Santo Domingo
Host: Brian Kenny
Panelists: Max Kellerman, Teddy Atlas, Larry Merchant, and Bert Sugar
Format: 30-minute broadcast (4 segments + closing reflections)
Presented by: The Sweet Science Network

SEGMENT 1 — OPENING: “Two Fights, Two Statements”

Brian Kenny (Host):
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen — and what a night it has been here in Santo Domingo. The crowd’s still buzzing, the atmosphere thick with disbelief and admiration. In the span of an hour, we witnessed two extremes of boxing: a flash of lightning, and a slow, punishing storm. Donald Curry needed just thirty-five seconds to erase Jonathon Reid from consciousness, while Sergey Kovalev dismantled Abraham Okine round by round in a masterclass of discipline and controlled destruction. Max, it feels like we’ve just seen two clinics in the art of domination — one instant, one methodical.”

Max Kellerman:
“Yeah, Brian — this was a night that reminded us why boxing is the most unpredictable sport in the world. Curry’s knockout was a moment straight out of the highlight reel of history — a single perfect punch that defines a fighter’s essence. Then you have Kovalev — the ‘Krusher’ reinvented. He came in with questions about whether his power would carry up to heavyweight, and he answered every one of them emphatically. These weren’t just wins — they were statements.”

Larry Merchant:
“Boxing’s cruel truth was on display in stereo tonight. For Jonathon Reid, thirty seconds turned into heartbreak. For Okine, fifteen minutes turned into a lesson in attrition. And for Curry and Kovalev — these were reminders that even in decline, even under pressure, a fighter’s craft and courage can still shine like an old champion’s reflection.”

Bert Sugar (lighting his cigar):
“Boys, let’s call it what it was — two vintage reminders that the Sweet Science ain’t sweet at all. Curry brought the thunder early, Kovalev brought the ice late. Santo Domingo got its money’s worth in chills, spills, and knockdowns.”

SEGMENT 2 — CURRY VS. REID: “A Knockout for the Ages”

Brian Kenny:
“Teddy, let’s talk about that middleweight bout — thirty-five seconds, one punch, and the night was over. What do you see technically in what Curry did?”

Teddy Atlas:
“Perfection, Brian. Curry stayed centered, calm, and he read the rhythm like a radar. Reid stepped in too square, chin up, and Curry just turned that hook over like he was slicing through silk. No wasted motion, no wind-up. That’s muscle memory from years of textbook repetition. You can’t teach that in a month — that’s a decade of drilling angles.”

Max Kellerman:
“People forget — Curry at his best was one of the sharpest pure boxers of the ‘80s. What he did tonight looked effortless, but it was years of mechanics and timing. Reid’s no journeyman — he just walked into a moment that happens once in a lifetime. A punch so clean it freezes time.”

Larry Merchant:
“I’ve seen knockouts like that change careers — both ways. Curry just reignited his. Reid might have to rebuild from the memory of that flash. It’s the kind of loss that can haunt you because it doesn’t hurt physically — it hurts existentially. One second you’re in the fight; the next, the world’s gone black.”

Bert Sugar:
“You know, I’ve been around long enough to see one-punch greatness: Louis over Schmeling, Hearns over Duran, Tyson over Spinks. Add Curry over Reid to that list. When the Sweet Science becomes the Cruel Science, it’s usually one man’s perfect timing meeting another man’s bad second.”

SEGMENT 3 — KOVALEV VS. OKINE: “The Return of The Krusher”

Brian Kenny:
“Now to the heavyweights — Sergey Kovalev against Abraham Okine. Max, Kovalev looked like the man who once ruled light heavyweight again tonight, didn’t he?”

Max Kellerman:
“He did, Brian. The jab, the patience, the composure — all vintage Kovalev. He dominated range, he broke Okine down from the torso up, and when he dropped him in the fourth with that overhand right, you saw the old Krusher. He wasn’t rushing; he was dissecting. It was like watching an engineer take apart a machine piece by piece until there’s nothing left.”

Teddy Atlas:
“I’ll tell you what I loved — discipline. Kovalev didn’t panic when Okine got brave in the second. He kept his shape, kept his balance, and that’s why he found that knockdown later. He fought like a man who remembered his fundamentals and forgot his pride. When he fought emotional in the past, he lost. Tonight, he fought smart, cold, professional.”

Larry Merchant:
“And the irony, Teddy, is that he was in one of the hottest, loudest environments imaginable. Yet his calmness was absolute. Kovalev used Santo Domingo’s heat to melt his opponent, not himself.”

Bert Sugar:
“Look, Okine was tough — too tough for his own good. But Kovalev reminded the world that physics is undefeated. The Russian brought a hammer to a knife fight, and by the fifth round, Okine’s courage couldn’t carry the weight of that pressure.”

SEGMENT 4 — LEGACY AND THEMES: “The Old Masters Still Bite”

Brian Kenny:
“So we’ve seen it — two veterans, both thought to be past their best, walk into the Caribbean night and prove that experience, timing, and craft can still rule this sport. Larry, what’s the broader story tonight?”

Larry Merchant:
“The story is that boxing’s ghosts never quite fade. Donald Curry and Sergey Kovalev were both men with something to prove — one to himself, one to the critics. They didn’t just win fights; they won arguments with time. We saw in thirty seconds and five rounds that skill outlives hype.”

Max Kellerman:
“And beyond that, it’s about rebirth. This tournament isn’t just about brackets — it’s about resurrection. Fighters finding themselves again. Curry reminded us what perfect technique looks like; Kovalev reminded us what controlled violence feels like.”

Teddy Atlas:
“Legacy isn’t built in the easy fights. It’s built when you’ve already fallen, and you come back willing to risk falling again. That’s what both these men did tonight. And I’ll say it again — that’s the part casual fans never understand: it takes more courage to keep coming back than it does to swing.”

Bert Sugar:
“Here’s your headline, gentlemen: The Krusher and The Cobra bite back. These old cats showed the kittens how it’s done. And if this is what Round 1 of the Sweet Science looks like — somebody get me a ringside seat for the next one.”

Brian Kenny (closing):
“Well said, Bert. Two performances that’ll be replayed, re-analyzed, and remembered — for their precision, their poise, and their poetry. From Santo Domingo, this has been The Final Bell. Stay tuned — Howard Cosell’s editorial reflection is next.”

HOWARD COSELL COMMENTARY — “The Symphony and the Strike”

(Camera fades to the corner of the dimly lit Coliseo. Howard Cosell stands ringside, microphone in hand, voice grave and deliberate.)

“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we bore witness to boxing distilled to its essence — suddenness and savagery. In one corner of this humid cathedral, a man named Donald Curry delivered a single act of perfection — a punch so pure, so exact, that it erased the boundaries of time and doubt. Thirty-five seconds. One motion. It was the kind of violence that reminds us — this is no sport for the hesitant. It is a calling for the precise.

And then, moments later, the air shifted. Sergey Kovalev — a man once feared, later forgotten — returned with the patience of an executioner. He didn’t brawl. He didn’t rage. He simply calculated. With the cold, exacting rhythm of a metronome, he took apart a younger man, piece by piece, until mercy was the only reasonable intervention.

In these two contrasting victories, we saw the anatomy of greatness: speed and control, chaos and command. Curry’s victory was an exclamation point — Kovalev’s, a full symphony.

Boxing — that most unforgiving of art forms — has once again proven that its greatest beauty lies not in youth, nor in strength, but in the will to be remembered.

From the roaring heart of Santo Domingo, this is Howard Cosell — reminding you that the Sweet Science remains, as ever, the cruelest poetry of them all.”

**hellinas00** · 10-08-2025, 10:49 PM

Fight Night #6
Sands Hotel Atlantic City

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Heavyweight Fight
Michael Greer (45-20) vs Alexander Alexeev (24-3)
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Michael Greer (United States)
Career Stage: Prime
Fighting Style: Pressure Fighter / Brawler
Trainer: Kevin Rooney
Cut Man: Jack DeForrest

Greer embodies the archetype of the American heavyweight grinder — broad-shouldered, built like a dockworker, and perpetually moving forward. A native of Detroit, he’s spent years as a sparring partner for bigger names, honing his craft in the gyms of the Midwest where the air smells of sweat and ambition. He fights behind a thudding jab and loves to work the body until his opponent wilts. His temperament is volcanic — never content to win on points when he can make it personal in the trenches. If there’s a weakness, it’s defensive polish; Greer trusts his chin and aggression more than subtle movement, but that same grit has broken many who underestimated him.

Alexander Alexeev (Russia)
Career Stage: Prime
Fighting Style: Southpaw Technician
Trainer: Viktor Petrov
Cut Man: Sergei Orlov

Alexeev, the former European champion from Chelyabinsk, brings a master’s poise to the ring. A southpaw with the grace of a dancer and the discipline of a soldier, he learned his craft in the Soviet amateur system, amassing over 200 bouts before turning professional. He prefers to keep his distance, snapping a piston jab and countering with a sneaky straight left that lands with surgical precision. His defense is economical — head tilts, subtle angles, and a calm poker face that unnerves his opponents. Alexeev’s weakness, if any, lies in his tendency to overanalyze; when forced into chaos, he can lose rhythm and retreat into caution. But in a clean boxing match, few look better.

The Fight

Greer TKO4 Alexeev

The heavyweight undercard delivered violence with a metronome. Michael Greer walked through early turbulence, then broke down Alexander Alexeev with a relentless body-head grind, forcing Referee Julio Alvarado to stop it at 2:59 of Round 4 (TKO). How it unfolded

Round 1 — Alexeev’s ambush:
Alexeev’s southpaw rhythm and rib-roasting lefts had Greer badly shaken in the opening minute. A wicked three-punch burst (0:40) plus a spear to the belt line (0:58) put Greer on skates. Greer clinched to breathe, survived the corner trap, and finished the round hurt but upright. (Unofficial: 10-9 Alexeev.)

Round 2 — Greer finds the basement:
Greer stopped chasing the head and started taxing the body: cross to the midsection, shovel hooks inside, and a stiff rudder-jab that steered Alexeev to the ropes. Alexeev still nicked him with short uppers, but Greer’s momentum was obvious. (10-9 Greer.)

Round 3 — The tide turns visibly:
Greer opened with a thudding downstairs combo that visibly stunned Alexeev. The American pinned him, jabbed clean, then detonated a mule-kick hook (1:22) that buckled the legs and ballooned Alexeev’s right eye (1:51). Greer piled on with uppercuts and right hands. (10-9 Greer, clear.)

Round 4 — The break:
Swelling now obvious, Alexeev tried to buy space, but Greer’s pressure was tireless: solar-plexus work, a hard cross (1:32), double hooks (2:08), and a steady drumbeat that had the Russian pinned and drowning. With Alexeev absorbing clean leather and not firing back, Alvarado waved it off at 2:59. Cards & stats snapshot

Judges Michele Hellstern, Pierre Benoist, Dennis Nelson all had it 29–29 after three (A1: 10-9 Alexeev, R2: 10-9 Greer, R3: 10-9 Greer).
Punch volume: Greer averaged 36.3 connects/rd to Alexeev’s 16.3.
Accuracy: Alexeev 45.8% (clean early), Greer 35.3% (sheer volume and body work won the day).
Damage: Significant swelling under Alexeev’s right eye; no cuts, no fouls.

Tactical story

Greer (Top Condition) solved the southpaw by investing to the body, then climbing the ladder once Alexeev’s feet slowed. His engine never dipped.
Alexeev (Under-trained) looked sharp early—angles, compact counters—but the pace and rib-work taxed his legs. Once the eye swelled, his depth perception and counters dulled, and Greer’s pressure snowballed.

The stoppage

Right call by Alvarado. Alexeev was pinned, absorbing head-snapping shots with compromised vision; another minute would have been needless risk. Tournament implications (double-elimination)

Michael Greer advances on the winners’ side—and sends a message: he’s not finesse, he’s inevitability when he gets rolling. Expect higher-seeded boxers to prep for his inside grind and body attack.
Alexander Alexeev drops to the losers’ bracket. He’s dangerous there: sharpen conditioning, start faster without trading body shots early, and prioritize lateral exits before the eye becomes a target.

Middleweight Fight
Manny Paqcuiao (62-8) vs Tito Mendoza (36-8)

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Manny “Pac-Man” Pacquiao (Philippines)
Career Stage: Prime
Fighting Style: Explosive Southpaw / Aggressive Counterpuncher
Trainer: Freddie Roach
Cut Man: Lenny DeJesus

Pacquiao arrives in Atlantic City as boxing’s lightning in human form — an 8-division champion in our reality, here reborn in the Sweet Science Tournament as a prime middleweight, his power magnified but his fury unchanged. His rhythm is chaos incarnate: darting footwork, impossible angles, combinations that blur on film. He fights like a jazz drummer — unpredictable but always in tempo. His left hand remains the great equalizer, and his stamina defies physics, the kind that makes crowds rise to their feet by the sixth round. But even legends have edges; Pacquiao’s aggression can tempt him into firefights, where he’s vulnerable to precision countering. His smile outside the ring hides a predator’s instincts within it — once he smells weakness, mercy evaporates.

Tito “The Bull” Mendoza (Dominican Republic)
Career Stage: Prime
Fighting Style: Pressure Fighter / Counter-Body Specialist
Trainer: Roberto Díaz
Cut Man: Héctor Báez

Mendoza represents the Caribbean tradition of beautiful brutality — a bull with rhythm. A fictionalized but richly drawn Dominican champion known in fight lore for his appearances in the Rocky Balboa universe, Mendoza in this tournament is treated as the real deal: a heavy-handed, iron-chinned contender who wears down opponents with surgical pressure. He’s a right-handed slugger with a fondness for ripping hooks to the ribs and uppercuts from hell. Where Pacquiao thrives on speed and variety, Mendoza thrives on suffocation — he takes space, closes angles, and refuses to back up. He’s not as quick as Pacquiao, but he compensates with patience and body work that turns confidence into panic over twelve rounds.

Contrast of Styles:
Pacquiao fights like a storm, Mendoza like a siege. One will try to overwhelm the senses; the other, to drain the soul. Freddie Roach has been preaching angles and flurries; Roberto Díaz whispers patience and punishment. Both men carry the swagger of warriors who’ve fought their way up from poverty and obscurity — a collision of humility and hunger.

When the lights dim and the bell rings, expect violence delivered with purpose. Atlantic City hasn’t seen this kind of electricity since the days when Hagler and Hearns defined what middleweights were supposed to be.

The Fight
Manny Pacquiao TKO1 Tito Mendoza

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Atlantic City hadn’t seen destruction this surgical in years. Under the chandeliers of the Sands, Manny Pacquiao, reborn in his middleweight prime, delivered a first-round annihilation of Tito “The Bull” Mendoza that left jaws open and the crowd half in awe, half disbelief. The official time: 2:37 of Round 1, referee Juergen Langos stepping in as Mendoza reeled under a storm of precision punches.

Round 1 — Lightning in human form

The bell rang, and Pacquiao’s intent was obvious: no feeling-out, no reconnaissance, only forward motion. Within seconds he slipped inside and hooked to the body, the kind of shot that sets up a career’s worth of fear. Moments later came the first seismic impact — a brutal cross that ripped across Mendoza’s jaw and opened a cut over the left eyebrow before a minute had passed. Blood slicked down the Dominican’s temple, and Pacquiao smelled the moment like a predator.

He never missed again. Literally.
Every punch he threw — 47 landed of 47 — connected clean.

A triple combination at the one-minute mark had Mendoza staggering, his balance gone, eyes watering from body pain and swelling under that damaged eye. Pacquiao’s footwork blurred; he pivoted, reset, and slammed a hook that buckled the knees. The Filipino legend kept the tempo of a drum solo: jab-hook-cross, cross-hook-uppercut, hands flickering too fast to count.

At 2:00 came the finishing sequence — a devastating hook, then a lightning-fast four-punch combination that froze Mendoza in place. The crowd rose in a single gasp. Langos hovered, hesitated, and finally, mercifully, waved it off at 2:37.

Statistical absurdity

Punches landed	47	0
Accuracy	100%	0%
Knockdowns	0	0
Cuts	0	1 (outside left eyebrow)

Mendoza never landed a scoring blow. He missed 87 punches. Pacquiao’s defense was pure radar, his timing perfect, his balance unshakable.

Judges and officiating

There was nothing for the scorecards. Judges Silvestre Abainza, Luis Pabon, and Jean Giacomantonio had no rounds to score. Referee Juergen Langos’s stoppage was faultless — Mendoza was absorbing clean leather without return. Jimmy Lennon’s announcement of “Manny Pacquiao!” drowned in applause.

Tactical breakdown

Pacquiao (Trainer Roger Mayweather, Cut Man Chick Ferrara): opened with body investment, then ascended with combinations at impossible tempo. Used controlled aggression — no wasted motion, no feints for show.
Mendoza (Trainer Hector Roca, Cut Man Freddie Brown): entered in top condition but froze under speed. Never found rhythm; by the time he blinked, he was bleeding and cornered.

The meaning in this massacre

In the Sweet Science Tournament — where every fighter is in his prime — this wasn’t a mismatch of eras but of dimensions. Pacquiao showed that his best self transcends weight. His blend of velocity, precision, and ferocity is a physics problem most men can’t solve.

Mendoza, pride wounded but unbroken, now drops into the loser’s bracket, where redemption burns hottest. Pacquiao advances cleanly on the winner’s side, scarcely touched, his legend immediately reshaping the middleweight landscape.

THE FINAL BELL – FIGHT NIGHT #6
Location: Sands Hotel & Casino, Atlantic City, NJ
Host: Jim Lampley
Panelists: Max Kellerman, Teddy Atlas, Larry Merchant, Bert Sugar
Special Guest Analyst: Howard Cosell (closing commentary)

Opening Theme

Camera pans across the Sands ballroom — chandeliers glinting, smoke curling over the crowd, ring crew breaking down the ropes as fans linger, still buzzing. Two fights. Two very different kinds of violence. The smell of adrenaline hasn’t left the air.

Lampley (voice-over):
“From chaos to control, from brutality to perfection, Atlantic City bore witness tonight to two bouts that showed every shade of the Sweet Science. Michael Greer bulldozed his way through Alexander Alexeev in four rounds, while Manny Pacquiao delivered a flawless demolition of Tito Mendoza — a single round of pure, unbroken precision. This was Fight Night #6. This… was boxing distilled.”

Cue the theme fade-out. The panel sits ringside, framed by the old casino lights.

Segment 1 – The Heavyweight Undercard

Lampley: “Let’s start with the heavyweights — Michael Greer versus Alexander Alexeev. For two rounds, Alexeev looked like the better craftsman. By the fourth, he looked like he’d been thrown through a brick wall. Teddy, what happened?”

Atlas (leaning forward):
“What happened was simple — conditioning, composure, and body work. Greer got touched early, but he didn’t panic. He went back to the old code: you kill the engine, you kill the car. He went to the ribs, and every hook took a little more from Alexeev. Once that swelling came up, once he couldn’t see the right hand coming, it was done. You can’t out-think a man who’s already inside your house.”

Kellerman:
“It’s almost poetic — Alexeev represented technique, Greer represented persistence. For two rounds, it looked like science. Then Greer turned it into survival. That’s the brilliance of boxing’s duality — sometimes the man who cares more wins. Greer cared more.”

Merchant:
“Alexeev boxed beautifully until he realized beauty doesn’t score if you’re unconscious. Greer’s style isn’t delicate, but it’s authentic. He makes you regret standing in front of him. And Atlantic City — let’s be honest — has always preferred the brawlers. This crowd didn’t want ballet; they wanted blues and bruises.”

Sugar (grinning, cigar tilted):
“Greer fought like a man who’d been late on rent. Those body shots were eviction notices. Alexeev’s southpaw angles looked fine until he met Detroit iron. That stoppage was mercy, not controversy. Greer walks out with a ticket up the bracket — and a few believers who didn’t know his name this morning.”

Lampley:
“Judges had it even through three, but Greer’s Round 4 was academic. His punch volume — double Alexeev’s — his tempo relentless. Let’s take a look at the turning point.”

Replay highlights roll: Greer’s right to the body, the swelling under Alexeev’s eye, the referee’s wave-off.

Atlas:
“That’s the face of a man realizing there’s no tomorrow in that moment. Greer broke him without having to knock him down.”

Lampley:
“And with that, Greer advances in the winner’s bracket. Alexeev, now in the loser’s bracket, has work to do — and a swollen reminder of how unforgiving this tournament is.”

Segment 2 – The Main Event: Pacquiao vs. Mendoza

The footage replays under dimmed lights: Pacquiao’s hands blur, Mendoza’s blood arcs, the referee steps in.

Lampley:
“What we witnessed in the main event may go down as the most immaculate single round in Sweet Science history. Manny Pacquiao landed forty-seven punches. He missed none. Mendoza, a prime fighter himself, landed zero. Gentlemen — where do we even begin?”

Kellerman (excited):
“That was something close to myth. This is a tournament of primes — no excuses, no decline, no erosion. And yet, Pacquiao made another prime fighter look like a sparring partner. His rhythm, his reflexes, his violence — they were pure expression. If boxing is physics with gloves, then Pacquiao was Einstein tonight.”

Atlas:
“I’ll tell you where it begins — speed married to accuracy, raised by timing. Pacquiao wasn’t reckless. Every shot had purpose. He didn’t fight like a slugger or a counterpuncher. He fought like a man who already knew the answer. Mendoza’s a tough guy, but his mistake was trying to see the punches. You can’t see Pacquiao. You survive him or you don’t.”

Merchant:
“There’s a strange kind of happiness in watching someone do something perfectly. It doesn’t happen in this sport. Not really. Pacquiao didn’t just beat Mendoza; he transcended him. And you could see it in the crowd — that moment when violence turns into art and everyone stops breathing for a second.”

Sugar:
“Let’s put the stats in perspective — 100% accuracy. You can’t even order a sandwich with 100% accuracy. Forty-seven punches, forty-seven hits. He’s the first man to throw a perfect inning in boxing. And with Roger Mayweather in his corner? That’s fire meeting genius. This is what happens when the world’s nicest guy decides to rearrange your atoms.”

Lampley:
“Mendoza came in in perfect shape. His corner — Hector Roca and Freddie Brown — couldn’t even get their fighter into the fight. One clean cross opened the cut, and it was downhill from there.”

Atlas:
“It’s not just power; it’s confidence. Pacquiao’s rhythm says to you, ‘You don’t belong here.’ When you start believing him, that’s when you get stopped.”

Merchant (reflective):
“In a tournament built on second chances, Pacquiao doesn’t need one yet. But Mendoza does. And the Sweet Science, for all its cruelty, gives him that chance.”

Lampley:
“And that’s the beauty of this format. Nobody’s gone. Everyone fights again. Mendoza’s journey moves to the loser’s bracket — redemption road. But Pacquiao? Tonight, he’s the talk of the casino.”

Segment 3 – Broader Implications

Lampley:
“Gentlemen, in both divisions, the tone feels set. Greer and Pacquiao now carry the momentum of statement wins. How does this affect the rest of the bracket?”

Kellerman:
“It sends a signal — both styles work. Greer wins by attrition, Pacquiao by annihilation. Fighters watching from their hotel rooms tonight are asking themselves: can I keep my composure when the lights burn this bright? Can I impose my game before I drown?”

Atlas:
“The winners’ bracket just got meaner. You can’t out-bang Greer, and you can’t outthink Pacquiao. That’s a nightmare draw for everyone else.”

Merchant:
“And for the fans? The stakes just doubled. This tournament isn’t crowning nostalgia; it’s manufacturing legacy in real time.”

Sugar:
“The Sands was the right stage — classy enough for the art, gritty enough for the blood. I’ve been watching this game fifty years, and I’ll tell you: the Sweet Science isn’t about finding new heroes. It’s about proving the old ones were never myths.”

Segment 4 – The Postmortem & Human Angle

Lampley:
“We often focus on glory, but these nights carry heartbreak too. Mendoza leaves here battered but breathing. Alexeev leaves here swollen but wiser. In the double-elimination world, they’re not finished — just reborn in the fire.”

Merchant:
“Sometimes defeat is the start of your real story. We’ve seen it before. The loser’s bracket is where pride gets reforged.”

Atlas:
“That’s where you learn if you want it. Greer and Pacquiao showed tonight what ‘wanting it’ looks like. The others — they get to answer the question next time.”

Kellerman:
“And the fans win twice — first in violence, then in narrative. The Sweet Science Tournament continues to remind us why boxing, done right, is both a sport and a saga.”

Segment 5 – Howard Cosell’s Closing Commentary

(Camera fades to Cosell standing alone ringside, microphone in hand, tie slightly loosened, that famous timbre steady as the crowd noise hums beneath him.)

“And so, the grand spectacle concludes — another night when the fists of men told us truths words never could.

In the first act, Michael Greer, a man built of bone and resolve, carved victory from struggle. He showed that the path to triumph, like life itself, is walked through punishment. He did not dance; he endured.

In the second, Manny Pacquiao — the phenomenon from the Pacific — gave us something beyond endurance. He gave us perfection. Not a punch missed, not a breath wasted, not a moment out of place. He was motion, rhythm, fury, and grace made flesh.

And as I look upon this ring, under these aging chandeliers of the Sands, I am reminded why this sport endures when others fade. It is because boxing, stripped bare of glamour, is humanity in miniature: courage, fear, beauty, and ruin all in twelve rounds or less.

The Sweet Science Tournament continues, but tonight we learned something essential — that even in a bracket of equals, there are still miracles.

I am Howard Cosell, and this… was The Final Bell.”

[Fade out: theme music, closing credits roll across the glowing ring, still wet with sweat and blood. The Sands crowd slowly disperses, murmuring the name that now echoes through the tournament halls — Manny Pacquiao.]

Attached Files

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**hellinas00** · 10-10-2025, 06:50 AM

Fight Night #7
Harrahs Casino Atlantic City
Preliminary Round - Bracket 1

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Middleweight Fight
Maselino Masoe (30-6) vs Tommy Ciarlo (41-35)

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The Fighters

Maselino Masoe – Samoa / New Zealand – “The Pacific Power”
Masoe grew up in Apia, Samoa, before moving to New Zealand, where his punching legend began in the gyms of Auckland. A decorated amateur, he represented both Samoa and New Zealand in international competition, including two Olympic Games and a Commonwealth Games gold medal. In the pros he carved out a reputation as a fearless pressure fighter—short, square-shouldered, perpetually advancing behind thudding combinations. His right hand is a wrecking ball; his left hook isn’t far behind. When he captured the WBA middleweight title in 2004, it was by doing what he always does: walk through incoming fire and detonate his own. The trade-off is stamina. Masoe fights like a man who wants to end it inside six rounds, and if he doesn’t, his output and defense can erode. Still, every punch he throws carries the kind of Polynesian power that makes crowds gasp.

Tommy Ciarlo – United States (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania) – “The South Philly Scholar”
Ciarlo comes from the fighting soil of Philadelphia, the same lineage that produced Joey Giardello, Bennie Briscoe, and Bernard Hopkins. He’s a student of that tradition—tight guard, rolling shoulders, grim patience. A regional champion and long-time sparring partner for bigger names, Ciarlo built his career on fundamentals: subtle defense, counterpunch precision, and relentless body work. He’s not a showman; he’s a craftsman. Inside, he’ll shorten the distance, slip a punch, and grind you with hooks until you’re breathing through a straw. Judges love his ring generalship, even if the knockout column doesn’t sparkle. He’s fought everywhere from small clubs in Trenton to televised cards in Vegas, always as the man who tests prospects and occasionally exposes them.

So tonight at Harrah’s Atlantic City, you’ve got the Polynesian powerhouse against the Philly purist—raw aggression versus cold craft, faith in muscle versus faith in method. The kind of matchup boxing was built to settle.

The Fight

Harrah’s Atlantic City (NJ) • Oct 10, 2025 • 12 rounds • Ref: Arnold Pokrandt • Anncr: J.D. Lyons
Judges: Alfred Asaro (FRA), Russell Naquin (USA), Avalon Hill (USA)

Tommy Ciarlo edged a thriller by split decision (115–114 Asaro for Ciarlo, 115–114 Naquin for Masoe, 116–115 Hill for Ciarlo). No knockdowns, but plenty of momentum swings and one stubborn cut that kept the drama cranked to eleven.

How it played out

Early feel-out, big warnings: Round 1 was cautious until Masoe clipped Ciarlo late and briefly buzzed him. In Round 2, Masoe’s overhand right and hook shook Ciarlo twice, seizing the first clear frame of the night.
The cut changes the calculus (R3): Masoe opened a cut over Ciarlo’s left eyelid, and for a few minutes it looked like the Samoan’s power might take over. Ciarlo steadied himself with clinches and craft.
Ciarlo’s midfight reply (R4–5): The Philly technician answered with combinations and smart inside work, grinding Masoe on the ropes and banked rounds while slowing the pace.
Masoe surges again (R6–8): Short uppercuts and crosses from Masoe had Ciarlo shaky in spots; the cut reopened in Round 8 as Masoe went hard to the body and up the middle.
The late rally (R9): Ciarlo flipped the script with his best round—body shots, crisp crosses, and an uppercut that visibly hurt Masoe. From there, the tempo belonged to the counterpuncher.
Championship distance (R10–12): Masoe pressed and reopened the cut in the 10th, but Ciarlo’s jab-and-clinch game and clean right hands in Rounds 11 and 12—plus tidy defense under fire—likely swung the razor-thin cards.

Commissions’ numbers (highlights)

Punches landed/round: Ciarlo 28.3 to Masoe 17.8
Accuracy: Ciarlo 32.1%, Masoe 26.7%
Best weapons: Ciarlo’s crosses (8.25/rd) & combinations (8.92/rd); Masoe’s heavy hooks/uppercuts in the trenches.
Fouls: Masoe warned for a low blow and leaning on the neck.
Damage: Ciarlo’s left eyelid cut opened three times but was controlled by his corner.

Why Ciarlo got it
Clean, late-round scoring and ring generalship. Even with the cut, he out-landed and out-accurate’d Masoe, especially down the stretch (9, 11, 12). Masoe’s power moments were dramatic, but too intermittent to erase Ciarlo’s steady work rate.

Our unofficial read
A fight of phases: Masoe’s thunder early and in spots vs. Ciarlo’s method and closing kick. On my card, Ciarlo by a whisker—one of those “don’t argue the split” decisions where ring geography and tidy scoring shots matter more than crowd-pleasing bombs.

Heavyweight Fight
Brian London (37-20) vs Joe Choynski (57-14)

The Fighters

Brian London – England – “The Blackpool Rock”
Born in West Hartlepool and raised in Blackpool, Brian London was a proud throwback to Britain’s postwar fighting stock. The son of a boxer (Jack London, a former British heavyweight champion), he inherited both the family trade and the family chin. London came to prominence in the 1950s and 60s, facing an absurdly tough slate of opponents — Muhammad Ali, Floyd Patterson, Henry Cooper, and Jerry Quarry among them. He twice fought for the world title and held the British and Commonwealth belts. London was no stylist; his stance was square, his jab serviceable, but his courage was granite. He fought upright and marched forward, relying on heart and toughness more than craft. Critics said he lacked imagination — admirers said he had the bravery of ten men. He was that classic British heavyweight archetype: durable, earnest, sometimes overmatched, but never overawed.

Joe Choynski – United States – “The California Terror”
Now Choynski is something else entirely — a bridge between bare-knuckle brawlers and the modern scientific boxer. Born in 1868 in San Francisco, he was one of the most feared punchers of the 19th century. Standing only about 5’10” and rarely over 170 pounds, he often fought men 30 pounds heavier — and knocked them cold anyway. He faced the best of his era: James J. Corbett, Bob Fitzsimmons, Jim Jeffries, Jack Johnson. In fact, he famously knocked out the young Johnson in Galveston, Texas, and then shared a jail cell with him when both were arrested afterward; Choynski spent the time teaching Johnson how to box. That’s how deep his influence runs — he literally helped shape the next great champion. Choynski was a blend of science and savagery: a short puncher with perfect timing, crisp footwork, and a left hook that could separate a man from reason.

The Matchup
Put these two in the same ring, and you get a fascinating stylistic collision: the stoic British strongman versus the American pioneer who taught boxing how to think. London brings durability and steady pressure; Choynski brings explosive precision and a cunning that predates the textbook. Atlantic City will see a time warp — Victorian-era guile meeting 1960s grit. The question isn’t who’s tougher. It’s whether London’s straightforward attack can survive the old-school trap-setting of a man who fought bare-knuckle legends and left them on the canvas.

The Fight

Joe Choynski TKO10 Brian London

Harrah’s Atlantic City (NJ) • Oct 10, 2025 • 12 rounds • Anncr: Jimmy Lennon Jr. • Ref: Sergey Krupenich
Judges: Roy Ovalle (USA), John Wilson (USA), Edgardo Kugler (USA)

Joe Choynski reached across centuries and dismantled Brian London with a masterclass in timing and body work, scoring a 10th-round TKO at 2:41. The cards at the stoppage reflected a rout (89–81 x3), powered by Choynski’s jab, short uppercuts, and rib-roasting crosses that steadily emptied London’s gas tank.

Story of the fight

Rounds 1–3 – The tutorial: Choynski set the syllabus early—sharp cross, tidy clinches, and a thudding hook that rocked London in the 1st. By the 3rd he was landing clean (hard hook at 1:27, follow-up right at 2:47) and banking damage while London struggled to cut the ring.
Rounds 4–6 – Exchanges and warning lights: London had his best pockets here—stiff shots at 0:58 of the 5th and a spirited start to the 6th—but Choynski’s counters and body work kept him honest, and swelling bloomed under London’s left eye.
Round 7 – The tide breaks: A merciless body assault culminated in a knockdown at 2:29 (short shot underneath), and Choynski nearly closed the show with a late volley. London beat the count but looked shopworn.
Round 8 – Cruel arithmetic: More rib shots, snapping uppercuts, and visible fatigue from London. The eye puffed badly; the ring looked bigger by the second.
Round 9 – London’s last stand: London rallied with a paralyzing combo at 2:19, momentarily staggering Choynski, but the Californian reset behind the jab and resumed control.
Round 10 – Curtain: Jabs, crosses, and inside bumps penned London in corners; with London exhausted and taking clean shots, Referee Krupenich stepped in at 2:41.

Commissions’ numbers (highlights)

Accuracy: Choynski 40.1% to London 22.4%
Output (landed/round): Choynski 30.3, London 10.9
Jab (per round): Choynski 9.2—the table-setter all night
Power mix: Choynski led in crosses (5.2/rd) and uppercuts (6.9/rd).
Damage: No cuts, but significant swelling under London’s left eye; one KD (R7 body shot).

Tactics & factors

Conditioning gap: Choynski entered in top condition and fought like it; London was listed over-trained and faded under sustained body work.
Ring craft: Choynski’s 19th-century economy—short steps, shoulder rolls, quick resets—neutralized London’s straight-line pressure.
Ref’s management: Clean, firm intervention; a single caution to Choynski for open glove.

Verdict
A historically flavored beatdown: Victorian guile > 1960s grit. London’s courage never wavered, but Choynski’s precision and investment downstairs wrote the ending.

The Final Bell — Fight Night #7 (Harrah’s Atlantic City)

Host: Brian Kenny
Panel: Max Kellerman • Teddy Atlas • Larry Merchant • Bert Sugar
Clips & Numbers: Ringside Compu-stats and commission cards

Segment 1 — Opening Roll & Headlines

Kenny: “Atlantic City dealt two very different hands tonight. The middleweights played chess with razors and the heavyweights reenacted a lost chapter from the Queensberry apocrypha. Tommy Ciarlo wins a split decision over Maselino Masoe, surviving a cut and a thunderstorm. Joe Choynski stops Brian London by TKO at 2:41 of the 10th, a master class in body work and timing. Max, your headline lines?”

Kellerman: “For the middleweights: Control beats chaos late. Ciarlo solved Masoe by the championship rounds. For the heavyweights: The Californian ghost still hits like iron. Choynski gave a retro clinic.”

Atlas: “Two lessons, same night. One: Don’t try to sprint a marathon — that’s Masoe. Two: If you forget to protect the basement, the whole house collapses — that’s London after seven.”

Merchant: “A night where sweat, not swagger, did the talking. Ciarlo won with conversation; Choynski won with punctuation.”

Sugar: “Call it the double feature: ‘Bleed but Believe’ starring Tommy Ciarlo, and ‘A Rib Is Not a Shield’ featuring Joe Choynski. Pass the popcorn.”

Segment 2 — Middleweight Deep Dive: Ciarlo SD12 Masoe

Kenny: “Let’s pull the thread on Ciarlo–Masoe. Cut opens Round 3 (left eyelid). Masoe banks early power moments — the right hand and hook in Round 2, the body bursts in 8 and 10. Then the turn: Ciarlo’s best frame Round 9, and he closes strong 11 and 12 despite that eye. Why Ciarlo?”

Kellerman: “He out-landed and out-accurate’d him — 28.3 landed/round at 32.1% to Masoe’s 17.8 at 26.7%. Judges like clean touches late. He won geography: mid-range jab, short counters, clinch resets, then step-outs to win optics. Those final three rounds are the argument.”

Atlas: “Strategy, not drama. He slowed the clock with clinches when he had to, dug to the body enough to take steam off the bombs, and kept his eyes on the road even with the windshield cracked. In the corner, Freddie Brown did triage on that cut; in the ring, Tommy did brain surgery.”

Merchant: “Masoe fights as though time owes him an early ending; Ciarlo reminded him judges still own the final word.”

Sugar: “And the cards say it straight: 115–114 (Asaro) Ciarlo, 115–114 (Naquin) Masoe, 116–115 (Hill) Ciarlo. That’s razor work. No robbery, just razor work.”

Kenny: “Swing frames?”

Kellerman: “3, 5, 10. You can argue any of those either way, but 9/11/12 are Ciarlo on most sane cards. That’s the fight.”

Segment 3 — Heavyweight Breakdown: Choynski TKO10 London

Kenny: “To the big men. London arrives over-trained, Choynski in top condition. By the numbers: Choynski 40.1% accuracy, 30.3 landed/round; London 22.4%, 10.9/round. Knockdown Round 7 (2:29) to the body, swelling under London’s left eye grows all night. Stoppage at 2:41 of the 10th. Fair?”

Atlas: “Mercy with a clock. London showed courage, but he was getting walked into short shots, especially underneath. The body knockdown is the receipt for seven rounds of deposits. Ref made the right call; fighter’s job is to fight, referee’s job is to protect.”

Kellerman: “Choynski is ancient wisdom: small steps, high efficiency, short arc power. The jab wasn’t just a range finder — it was a leash. When London rushed straight lines, Joe met him with angles and the uppercut.”

Merchant: “London, bless him, brought the will; Choynski brought the way. And the way, as it turns out, is shorter.”

Sugar: “Also: open-glove caution on Joe — a museum piece of a foul — but it didn’t change the story. The story was ribs and reason.”

Segment 4 — The Disagreements: Cuts, Cards, and the Stoppage

Kenny: “Two flashpoints: Ciarlo’s cut management vs. Masoe’s big moments, and whether the heavyweight stoppage came a beat early or right on time.”

Atlas (on MW): “Masoe needed to ‘win big’ in the pockets he created — follow the hurt with body shots to buy the next minute. He let Ciarlo off too much. That’s tactics, not fate.”

Kellerman (on MW): “And that’s why the Hill 116–115 card makes sense. Ciarlo spends better late.”

Merchant (on HW stoppage): “London’s face told the story the ref had to read.”

Sugar (devil’s advocate): “Could you give the old Brit one more exchange? Sure. Would you be wrong for not doing it? Not when the ledger says 89–81 x3 and the man’s eye looks like a rising loaf.”

Segment 5 — What’s Next & The Tide of Legacy

Kenny: “Next steps.”

Kellerman: “Ciarlo: another 12 with a live right hand — test the cut and the poise. Masoe: conditioning tweak, earlier body commitment, then a high-action rebound to recalibrate.”

Atlas: “Choynski: give him a heavyweight who doesn’t surrender the center — see if the jab still rules when he can’t dictate pace. London: reset the camp, fix the over-training, and find a measured opponent; courage isn’t a game plan.”

Merchant: “Tonight didn’t crown kings; it revealed craftsmen. We remember men like that.”

Sugar: “And the scrapbook gets two new pages — one blood-stained, one rib-bruised.”

Howard Cosell — Editorial Commentary

Ladies and gentlemen, what you witnessed in Atlantic City was not merely pugilism; it was the eternal argument of the sport conducted in two dialects. In the first bout, the dialect of patience: a Philadelphian with a leaking eyelid and a steady heart negotiated with danger and, by degrees, outvoted it on the judges’ cards. Tommy Ciarlo did not conquer Maselino Masoe with thunder; he conquered him with weather — the gradual, inevitable change of climate that turns storms into mist.

Masoe, magnificent in menace, offered moments that made the house gasp. But boxing, that great accountant, tallies not merely the decibels of a single explosion, but the arithmetic of twelve rounds. When the arithmetic was done, it favored the man who chose angles over anger and the long view over the sudden end.

And then, the heavyweights, the eternal promise of spectacle. Joe Choynski, a name spoken like a rumor from another century, demonstrated that economy is a kind of violence. Short punches, shorter decisions, the jab like a schoolmaster’s pointer directing a class: “Here is where you will stand. Here is where you will fall.” Brian London, brave and indomitable, brought the fight that is inside every honest heavyweight — but bravery is not a shield against accumulated truth. The truth came in body blows and in the swelling under an eye that could no longer see the future arriving.

In the end, the night belonged to craft — the craft of corners, of cuts managed, of distances measured, of risks accepted and limited. This, I submit, is the Sweet Science at its sweetest: not the reckless chase of chaos, but the disciplined conversion of chaos into order, of power into points, of will into wisdom. From Harrah’s Atlantic City, where the chips speak softly and the ropes speak clearly, I am Howard Cosell. And that… is the way it was.

**hellinas00** · 10-11-2025, 08:36 AM

Fight Night 8
Venue: Jimmy’s Bronx Café in New York City

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Middleweight Fight
Librado Andrade (31-5) vs Candy McFarland (21-7)

The Fighters

Librado Andrade — The Relentless Machine
From La Habra, California by way of Guanajuato, Mexico, Librado Andrade has long been the kind of fighter that makes purists nod and trainers wince. His professional record reads like a map of wars fought and scars earned. A classic pressure fighter, Andrade made his name by walking through fire—straight-ahead aggression, granite chin, and a gas tank that runs on stubbornness.
He’s built like a blacksmith: broad shoulders, heavy hands, and a permanent forward lean that says “let’s trade.” Though never a stylist, Andrade’s conditioning has always been his calling card. When others fade, he surges. He honed his craft sparring with his brother Enrique Ornelas, learning the hard way how to take a punch and give one back twice as hard.
In his prime, he fought for world honors, testing champions like Lucian Bute and Mikkel Kessler. Tonight, he enters the Bronx Café as the veteran craftsman, looking to remind the crowd that persistence still beats flash. His strategy hasn’t changed in twenty years: pressure, punish, repeat.

Candy MacFarland — The Showman from Baltimore
Then there’s Candy MacFarland, the kind of name you can’t forget and a fighter you probably shouldn’t underestimate. Hailing from Baltimore, Maryland, MacFarland is a colorful technician with a knack for turning fights into chess matches and chaos at the same time. A middleweight with quick hands and a flair for the unexpected, Candy brings an almost theatrical swagger to the ring—bright trunks, sharper wit, and the reflexes to back it up.
While Andrade’s strength is attrition, MacFarland’s weapon is deception: feints, angles, and a sly rhythm that keeps opponents guessing where the next shot is coming from. Don’t let the nickname fool you; he’s bitter under pressure, capable of switching from slick to savage in a heartbeat.
A former regional titleholder and a gym favorite in Baltimore’s west-side fight circuit, MacFarland’s record shows both knockouts and late-round comebacks. He’s in top condition tonight, fighting at his natural weight, under the watchful eye of veteran trainer Gus “Pop” Bennett, who calls him “my jazz boxer—smooth but unpredictable.”

Heavyweight Fight
Jesse Bowdry (30-16) vs Willie Meehan (91-31)

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Jesse Bowdry — The Forgotten Power of Detroit
Born in Detroit, Michigan, Jesse Bowdry was a 1950s prospect who looked built straight out of an auto plant furnace—solid, broad-chested, and unshakably serious. He was never a headline act but always a name whispered with respect in gyms and backrooms. Bowdry carried an honest man’s fighter’s spirit: minimal flash, maximum work. His punches came like the rhythmic pounding of a press line, heavy, timed, deliberate.

His record tells of a career spent chasing the gatekeepers—guys like Bob Cleroux and Eddie Machen—earning their respect even when he didn’t earn the judges’ nods. Bowdry fought out of the Kronk orbit before the Kronk Gym became legend, schooled in Detroit’s unforgiving sparring culture. Trainers used to say, “You don’t spar Bowdry to get sharper—you spar him to get tougher.”

He brings that energy to the Bronx tonight. No tricks, no games—just a rugged jab, a thudding right hand, and an engine that doesn’t overheat. At this stage of his career, Bowdry fights with the quiet confidence of a man who’s seen it all and still believes that one clean punch can rewrite his story.

Willie Meehan — The Pint-Sized Heavyweight Who Beat Dempsey
From San Francisco, California, Willie Meehan is one of boxing history’s great curiosities—a heavyweight who stood just over 5'9" and weighed barely 190 pounds, yet managed to hand Jack Dempsey multiple defeats in the 1910s. He looked more like a dockworker than a destroyer: round-faced, deceptively quick, and blessed with catlike reflexes. Meehan was living proof that toughness isn’t measured in inches.

He fought in an age when the heavyweight division was a chaos of characters—sailors, bartenders, brawlers—and he beat them with guile. Meehan’s calling card was slipperiness: a bobbing, weaving rhythm that made opponents miss wildly, followed by short, snappy counterpunches. His defensive instincts were uncanny, his ring IQ higher than most champions’. Those who underestimated him usually spent the next six rounds eating short hooks and frustration.

Even now, decades later, Meehan’s name is a folk legend among historians: the man who could frustrate Dempsey before anyone else did. Bringing that era’s craft into a modernized ring, Meehan remains what he always was—a puzzle with gloves.

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