A Fighter and his Dirty Glove Affair

Scottie “The Context” White

As boxing fans, sometimes we’re incapable of processing the potentate stature of the sport, anchored firmly in its reputation as if a sequoia forested in the presence of its subordinates. On occasion, I absolutely enjoy the positive light from the boxing annals using it as an illuminated pointer guiding me through the congestive paths searching for those “Good versus Evil bouts.   Noted is the advice to boxing fanatics who enjoy frolicking aimlessly through their speed bag of reflections, you may want to dawn a pair of properly wrap hands angered by an abrupt urge in a fist-to-wall upon your arrival at the Miguel “Junito” Cotto verses Antonio”El Tornado De Tijuana Margarito bout.

Without any compunction, this bout is an absolute favorite of mine visually buoyed for all the wrong reasons.  Boxing has not and never will enforce a protocol of standards adherent to a Decalogue of piety for active fighters motivated in setting moral examples for the sport.  No, this particular bout betwixt two top tier Welterweights who stepped up their game in headlining the fight card on July 26, 2008 beneath the Vegas lights for WBA championship. The branded moniker billed this bout as “The Battle”; it would most certainly from the opening bell live up to its name.  Fortitude, courage, recklessness, grit, and heart – all transparent weapons conjoined in a warrior’s cache accompanying their armor to the ring.

So let it be known, this was an epic welterweight battle which ensued with the presence of thousands in attendance and the millions watching.  Both fighters far from the commonality of comfort of loves ones, fiercely content knowing the severity of the assignment weighing heavily in obtaining a single outcome earning victory.   Let’s take a second for a brief summation highlighting both fighters haloed in this clash: Margarito hosted a record of 42 victories, 5 defeats and Cotto, undefeated at the time hosting a 32-0 record. Both fighters coming off respectable victories in their owned right infused the buzz surrounding the potential fight-of-the-year candidate. Also lightens the debate if Cotto is victorious, then he’s in the conversation atop the Pound-for-pound list.

Airwaves ignited uncertainty as whifflers voicing their predictions, analyst and critics panting in excitement feeling the subtle breeze of anticipation churning quickly into tornado-like adulation.  All it’s worth we live for bouts such as this, two respectable combatants in Cotto hailing from Puerto Rico to Margarito – a Mexican American short of comity, friendship or any mutual civility unwelcomed in the fight business on the eve of combat. Both fighters a couple of months removed from their respective victories, neighboring on the same fight card were astutely aware of the crosshairs aligning their future clash which would soon place them in the communal hierarchy of the most notable bouts in boxing.

If by chance from the commencement of anthems Cotto or Margarito glanced over one another for any last signs of weakness, it was probably blurred from the cheers of excitement belted by the thronged of onlookers- not to mention the precedence of the millions watching as eagerly center stage in the MGM Grand the mecca for mega fights.  As both fighters stood poised in their respect corners, Kenny Bayless calls time and the bell sounds quickly as they swiftly close the distance.

Cotto and Margarito both possess excellent boxing prowess as fighters but on this night, from the opening bell the two threw caution to the wind executing their individual fight plan. Cotto’s precision jabs set the tone as he peppered Margarito early.  From the offset Margarito made it clear his chin was solid and may have been molded from the hands of a master mason. Cotto’s volume and delivery of punches impacted flush on Margarito’s chin, but showed no sign of confirming early as those punches had no real affect.  I was genuinely impressed witnessing Margarito pressed forward, digesting punch after punch, delivering counters to Cotto’s surgical offensive onslaught.  To every 2-3 well-connected punches would only prompt a reactive onslaught from Margarito responding with showing no signs of slowing down.

Having the pleasure of viewing the fight from afar, distanced from the chaotic audience who were on their feet in astonishment, even deciding to remain standing as the bell sounding the conclusion of the early rounds. Watching in the company of friends and family seemed to be sensibly planned complimented with harmless wagers that fulminated otherwise easy-going people in a lunatic fringe.  Luckily there was a second television apart from the deafening sounds of confusion due to Cotto landing hook after hook body-head attack utilizing footwork resetting periodically buying any relief possible from Margarito. Head movement in such an up tempo fight was almost nonexistent as both fighters were inflicting extensive punishment as each second past, fostering the reality either fighter would soon begin to digress from their attack.  No denying the underlining cliché bantering of boxing being the “hurt business” but there comes a point when the most loyal of fans regardless of the quality of the bout demands at some point to move-your-head.

Cotto and Margarito, on the cusp of the 9^th round showing absolutely no signs of either fighter capitulating willingly, but both clearly wore the affects from the chaotic slugfest. Superb close quarters boxing from both fighters as Margarito continue adjusting as Cotto rotated stances boxing southpaw or conventional. Unbelievable pace set from both fighters who were now mid round of the tenth as Margarito proved his gas tank was far from empty. Cotto nearing the end of the round, finally was isolated in the corner by Margarito who was successful in landing solid shots to further weaken the mobility of Cotto.

No way the audience could have predicted the in-ring performance would exceed their expectations, force upon them pulsating tightness of the stomach and clinch fist pumping in succession as if somehow contributes refueling their fighter energy level closing out the final rounds.  As the two fighters postured on their stools awaiting the 11^th round, there wasn’t much facilitating or strategizing that would be efficacious to either fighter, right here, right now a fighters will to finish the fight separates a good boxer from a great boxer.  The bell sounds the 11^th Margarito unwavering in his straight forward attack flurrying punches careless to any counterpunching from Cotto at this juncture.  Consistent in his approach, Margarito catches Cotto with a solid left uppercut, but unlike the others this punch did damage as Cotto resign to one knee in the corner.  The entire bout displayed both fighters engaging from the very start punishing one another with extensive brutal compilation of punches without a single 8 count until now. While on one knee in the middle of an 8 count, Cotto appeared to glance over to his corner when his trainer quickly leap abreast the ring ropes signaling to the ref by “throwing-in-the-towel in which the referee obliged in calling the fight 2:05 round eleven marking Cotto record with a single defeat.

The stoppage sourced a collective cringe amongst the audience who were invested as I was in seeing such a riveting epic bout finally concluding. Margarito relished in his victory signing on to face Shane Mosley several months later the following year of 2009.  This fight not only was matched against a solid competitor in Mosley but an irreconcilable turning point in the career of Margarito.  While awaiting in the quarters of his dressing room, Margarito hands were being wrapped by his trainer in the presence of Mosley trainer Naazim Richardson while observing Margarito hands wrapped revealed an unknown pasty substance on his wraps. Richardson demanding the wraps removed and rewrapped.

Margarito first defense of his title ended in brutish fashion 43 seconds into the ninth round the referee stepped in while Margarito tumble face first from an onslaught by Mosley.  Margarito was not only defeated in his first title defense, the kickback caveat was a year suspension following tests of his hand wraps determining a positive presence of a similar substance to “plaster of Paris” a material utilized in building walls. Revelations like this festers deeply in boxing, the hidden fouls of decades past, drawing ire at first notice but evaporates quickly. Each time revitalizing that poignant musk excrement of soiled corners of deceit from fighters who have simply violated the unwritten code.  If there is in-ring rule book, then it’s inherently vague neatly attired as a dirty blood-soaked apron. As fans, at some point we jumped aboard the carriage of boxing, knowing very well the gravel of expectations would be a bumpy ride.