Boxing is a dangerous business. There’s no escaping that. The appeal of the sport to people, besides that danger, is myriad. The skill, the athleticism, the excitement, the feeling of being part of an event. They all appeal, all in different quantities, to different people. But it’s that danger, lurking behind every punch thrown, the unknown consequences of unnatural impacts on head or body, which underpins everything.
There’s the knowledge, either consciously or subconsciously, that these blows could damage lives. But there’s also an awareness that the focus and flow between fighters, particularly in a great fight, is almost the embodiment of what it means to be alive; to be in the moment. Both for those in the ring, trading blows, and those enraptured by the spectacle of it.
We’re living in dangerous times now. It perhaps seems flippant to compare a sport where people volunteer to seek danger, to take on risk, to the plight which lots of us around the world are now dealing with. But one would think that the violence of boxing would be repellent given the current climate. Yet in its absence, boxing presence has been sorely missed by many.
As one of those people, I’ve been revisiting old fights. Many well remembered, others somewhat forgotten. One such fight, or series of fights, has been Rafael Marquez/Israel Vasquez. The two Mexican super bantamweights fought in 2007 and 2008, in fights I’d argue have been somewhat ignored over the years since they first met.
Although drawing wistful looks from the more learned fight fan, they seem to have been overshadowed by clashes such as Morales/Barrera, Gatti/Ward and Castillo/Corrales when great fights from the 2000s are referenced.
Thirteen years later, the power of the meetings between the two Mexicans seems to not just remain but have amplified. In the first meeting, in Carson, California, the two met in the centre of the ring and ceded little ground to one another. The pair were aware going in that they were meeting an equal, both in skill as well as will, a dangerous notion to have in mind as they began exchanges.
Marquez landed wonderfully accurate, spiteful shots in the early rounds which bust up the nose and eyes of Vasquez. Yet Vasquez dug in and knocked down Marquez in the third round. From there on it, both men let fly with hooks and uppercuts to head and body until Vasquez decided he could take no more, refusing to answer the bell for the 8th round.
To consider Vasquez a ‘quitter’ after such a performance seems obscene to most rational eyes, but boxing isn’t a sport built on rational. A Mexican? Quitting on his stool? Against another Mexican? To question the heart of a fighter the caliber of Vasquez is certainly a dangerous thing to do.
So, unsurprisingly, considering the acclaim their first encounter achieved, Vasquez was given the opportunity to garner an equaliser just five months later. There was no need to let this return clash ‘marinade’. The public had seen two men risk it all and needed more.
These two fighters weren’t wild sluggers. They showed again in the second fight, even better than the first, that they were technically proficient offensively. Perhaps a little porous defensively, but these were two fighters homed in the tradition of great Mexican fighters. All those skills were exemplified in an explosive third round.
Vasquez hurt Marquez, badly, with a lead hook. Yet Marquez composed himself and landed more of those punishing hooks and backhands, cutting Vasquez horrifically around the eyes. Yet the rally ran out of steam, as Vazquez unleashed a combination to head and body in the sixth which proved too much. They were equals, in terms of victories. But they were also equal in the tolls they’d inflicted upon one another.
Again, there was no need to take tune up fights before a concluding contest. The third fight, like those preceding it, was for the WBC, Ring and lineal titles, but by this stage, they seemed largely irrelevant to those watching.
Personal pride, the knowledge that you bested a fighter who would help you define your own career, a fun fair mirror reflection of yourself, was at stake. And then there was national pride. Mexico and boxing will conjure up so many images for a fan. So, whilst the Ring, WBC and lineal were nice adornments, the third fight was about so much more.
The two carried on where they left off, literally forehead to forehead for long stretches. Marquez landed telling straight shots, yet Vasquez had Marquez hurt repeatedly. Round 4 encapsulated everything about this great rivalry. They boxed beautifully from the outside, curlicuing and pawing and teasing openings from one another; then, as if they couldn’t quite hep themselves, they began to exchange, short, sharp hooks to head and body from the inside. Marquez eventually pummeled Vasquez to the canvas, yet he still rose, a refusal to let it be. Despite more damage to his eyes, he caught Marquez coming in for the kill, and hurt him bad.
The two then closed out the round showing their remarkable abilities to fight when hurt and under pressure, landing vicious shots almost in tandem. And for the remaining rounds, there was little let up.
Sensing how close the fight was, and with a crowd on their fight and applauding from the opening seconds, both men were determined to leave nothing behind as the fight entered the 12th round. Vasquez was the aggressor and crashed multiple backhands against the wilting Marquez with just six seconds left. The ropes kept him up, but it was still considered a knock down.
The knockdown and a points dedication from Marquez’s for low blows proved vital, as Vasquez picked up a split decision. In my own humble view that was the correct call, but perhaps you will disagree on your viewing. Ultimately, both fighters had proven over three fights that there was very little to separate them.
There was sad postscript to all of this was in the form of a fourth fight. The first three were thrilling because this was two equals. The fought saw a damaged Vasquez, with permanent injuries to both eyes, beaten up and stopped two years after their trilogy has reached what seemed a natural and thrilling conclusion. But boxing isn’t a sport which is always happy to let a good thing be.
As we live in a world now largely defined by isolation and with a future which seems confusing and uncertain, it does seem peculiar to be drawn to such spectacles of violence. To wish to seek out that feeling of wildness, to revel in past dangers. But seeing two men go through hell, emotionally and physically, has given me some personal validation about how many of us have the capacity to do the same thing. Seeing two men in their prime, make sacrifices, yet feel the rush of being alive, may speak to many of us right now in ways we perhaps couldn’t understand before.
So, enjoy these fights. Either for the first time, or the first time since they first aired.
Article by: James Oddy
Follow James on Twitter at: @Oddy1J