February 25, 1964, Miami Beach, Florida

From time to time comes the world champion in bulky weight, who scares Bejesus of all. Not only opponents, but the whole world. Charles “Sonny” Poston – like George Foreman and Mike Tyson after him – was one of the gigantic. Built as if it was cut off from concrete, the poston rarely smiled. Instead, Missouri’s former prisoner snarled. And its coronation, although behind schedule, was just as clear as any in the history of boxing. Floyd Patterson was a talented and popular king, but the poston was eliminated in the round. They had a rematch, and the result was – give or sacrifice six seconds – exactly the same. Many experts believed that the fresh master was unbeatable, even if you placed him in a time machine and adapts him to the best of every era. It wasn’t just his power, it was his style. He was more than just a indolent. Poston intelligently persecuted his victim, cutting off the ring and setting traps. When the fight with Muhammad Ali or Cassiusz Clay, who was known, the soul gave the newborn man a chance. In the end he barely survived against the relatively circumscribed Henry Cooper. Clay was installed as 7-1 weaker-a long chance in a race with two ends.

Palpitations

Clay was an wise man. He knew that Poston had all the physical advantages and usually came to fight the 19-release of an extremely confident novice. The pretender’s task was to remove part of this faith before even a blow was hit. Clay appeared at home Listona in the middle of the night and spat out abuse in the speaker. Liston was understandable that he would be furious.

Later, Ali remembered: “The poston jumped his head through the window, cursing, saw us and growled so deeply that it sounded like a roar of a lion:” Hey! Get out of my yard, black bastard! “

Initially, Sonny wanted to break Clay’s head. But this anger slowly dull the mind of the “great ugly bear.”

During the weighing in the morning of struggle, led by the Congress Center in Miami Beach, Clay increased madness. When Poston hit his Hercule frame on the scales, Challenger shouted at him. Even those whose abuse was not for purposes recognized by annoying tactics. Clay spread his mouth wide, stretching his mouth to the maximum capacity, while raising eight fingers to indicate how many bullets the master will last. Liston, never before about the forecast, declared his intention to win on two.

The Kentuckin was so manic in his approach that officials briefly considering dismissal of the fight. Doctor, Alexander Robbins, took Clay’s pulse and discovered that his heart was beating for over 120 minutes.
“It was so, although he was terrified to death,” Robbins said.

Go lubricated lightning

When Battle began, before the disappointing crowd of 8000, Clay was a revelation. Poston Dardał forward, throwing muscular arms at the pretender. But Clay circled around the ring, easily moving away from any danger before she pierced the postman with playful combinations. The predatory master was accustomed to turning the hunt and punish them to surrender, but it was quickly clear that this rival was different. Undoubtedly, after three tempting minutes, Clay fought for a monster and won the opening session.

“The first round was exactly as I planned,” Clay later thought. “I saw my strategy pays off. Poston approaches me like a bull, he throws wild blows … When this round was over, I knew I had him.”

But the poston would improve in the next two verses. He was successful, registering clay to the body and switching to the top. But everyone present sensed that nervousness was turned on. The master, previously not ailments, was bleeding from his nose and near the left eye – macabre souvenirs from the Underdog jumped weapon.

At the end of the fourth, however, Clay’s fortune fell. His majestic dance became clumsy. His eyes, once shiny concentration, blinked chaotically. He did not see, and after the end of the round he begged his coach Angelo Dundee to remove the gloves so that he could prove that “offenses”. There were suggestions that the ointment used to serene the sore arm Listona was on his gloves and was in the eye of the 22-year-old.

Dundee shouted at his charge to fight, collecting him from the stool and throwing back to the fight when the fifth began. Judge Barney Felix, who checked Sonny’s gloves, but found nothing, considered stopping the fight, this was Clay’s confusion.

“I shaken the world”

Cassius survived the crisis, his eyes cleaned up, and closed the next round in promotion. Teenage Clay regained his role as a teacher, showing a more experienced postman how to make fights. The master sensed that his title slipped when the skin around his eyes was bubbling with pain. He was now a desperate man. And when he sat on the stool before the seventh, his corner stopped the fight. Listona’s left arm was numb.

“I was the one who made the decision,” said Jack Nilson, manager of Lawnson. “Sonny was not tired, believe me. He just lost all the feeling in his left hand after hitting his left shoulder at the end of the first round.”

After hearing he won, Clay lost control. He climbed the ropes, a gesture with a gesture, and shouted with its size. Euphoria did not disappear quickly.

Assessment of the greatest performances of Muhammad Ali

After returning to his wardrobe, the fresh king turned to the reporters, distinguishing these – the enormous majority – who predicted the postman, will easily win.

“I am the greatest, I shook the world. I told you that I would do it. What will you say now? He will go in one? He will go for two? Well, I take him so much that I put him in the hospital and looked at Cassius – I’m still pretty.

“I burned more energy, thanks to which it is intriguing in brew this morning than I used to beat this huge, ugly bear.
“Oh, I’m great,” he continued, looking at the ceiling. “And no,” he frowned, “call it to be corrected. If he wants a rematch, he may have it.”

The story of Muhammad Ali, Sonny Poston and Phantom Punch

In my career I had some great victories – Bernard Hopkins, Chris Eubank, Mikkel Kessler – But Jeff Lacy was the number 1. I was weaker – I was answered by the British press and the American press, who said that I intend to be knocked out – but everything combined for me and it became a turning point in my career.

I was 33 years aged and started fighting an injury, so fighting as I did: it was great to win, be a champion and put up a great performance that people remember.

In October 1997 I beat Eubank for the free title of Super Middleight WBO and, like every master, I wanted to unite 168 pounds, but unfortunately with boxing policy, fights, and the opponents wanted too much money that I could not. I boxed opponents such as Robin Reid, Richie Woodhall, Charles Brewer and Byron Mitchell as soon as they lost the titles when I had everything to lose and nothing to get.

Before Lacy was bothering Evans Ashira, I broke my hand very badly in the fourth round and fought with the last eight with one hand to win a unanimous decision. I remember how I felt very low, and then I had to listen to Gary Shaw, promoter Lacy, tearing out from America that I was a chicken.

I suppose that that’s why they came to Manchester to fight me: they thought it was over.

Everyone said Lacy was a fresh, super-medium version of Mike Tyson. He was very intimidating: he had six packages of the Sports Illustrated year and was an Olympian who knocked everyone and came to fight what they thought was an aging master. Robin Reida died, and people compared our fights, the second when I wounded my hand. It was a huge test for me: I thought it would be a tough fight, but my dad Enzo, who was also my trainer, thought it would be basic, that my speed and movement would be bambo.

I wanted to prove to everyone that being a WBO champion for nine years, I was number 1: not only the world champion, but the world champion. It was my first struggle of unification: I was very, very nervous about gathering, but my fear was never an opponent or he was hurt, he lost.

I ran at 1am 2am – the fight took place at 2 am – when it was quite shadowy and freezing, but my times: I didn’t run, I ran. I did a five -field run and my time was faster than ever before; My recovery was brilliant. I was wearing a suit and my dad followed me with a car with a car: I knew I was so productive.

Then I hurt my right wrist in pairing about eight, nine days before the fight and I was really stressed. I went to Harley Street in London to have an injection and I thought I would have to withdraw, worrying that he would go in the biggest fight in my life, but my dad said: “If you get a chance, he won’t come again. You must fight this fight: even with one hand.” It was all
I had to hear.

A few days before the fight I woke up and there was snow outside. I love snow – it was simply surreal, I can’t explain it – I woke up, I was nervous, but something just raised me; I didn’t think about my wrist. My dad asked: “Are you okay, Joe?” Because he saw another person, there was no nerves. Then I just knew it was my time. A guy woke me up at night before fighting the mystification, saying: “Lacy will get you, Lacy will get you,” but I just laughed.

On the day of the fight I was early, as always. I tried to go back to sleep, but as soon as I closed my eyes, butterflies in the stomach. I was really tired during the day and thinking that ** t, I need a box
And I’m impressed. “In the evening I went to the arena and yawned along the way, but as soon as you go – TV cameras are there; lights – adrenaline begins and wakes you.

I remember Lacy coming to the arena with his girlfriend and I thought it was a bit strange: for me it looked like a weakness. I liked to pretend, so I couldn’t be hand in hand with my girlfriend.

In the locker room it was relaxed; I had the same routine that I always did-my headphones, making robots-I remember that I felt very piercing, very swift and excited.

I felt incredibly going to the ring: I came to Spitfire, from the wonderful I loved. I liked climbing to the ring and I remember how I looked at him, trying to get eye contact: he had his great entourage there, when only I, my dad and my horns, and I sensed that he was nervous.

He caught me in the first round, but it didn’t move me at all. He charged every time, and I just threw combinations, sliding into the right, throwing myself every time he threw, and then landing four, five, six blows at once.

My speed and movement bambo go bambo and my corners worked perfectly: he had no plan B. I think he was shocked how mighty I was – he said that I hit, well, I hit quite difficult – and I think he felt this power, and this is only combinations: hitting him, hitting him, hitting him. After a few rounds he was like a training bag and tried to land this one shot. I was a really high pace, but I knew I could continue it: I knew I was in this form and I had a good time.

Every time he hit me, it never hurt me: I had so much energy and so much will, everything that he threw from me. That night I felt like a superman –
I think I would overcome every super-medium weight of every era-I felt good.

I didn’t think about my wrist either, because I hit it so cleanly and I didn’t really load myself. The plan was to utilize my speed and angles, so if you throw five, six, seven blows in one explosion, it will not hurt as it did if you are trying to land one shot.

Many of them are blur, but I remember how I was bossing in every round, and when he called, I always told him to walk around me or said something – “Yes, there are six of them left” – or you gave him a look or a smile. I threw so many blows and a condition in which I was mentally and physically: I could make 15 rounds at this pace. There were a few opportunities in which he could be stopped, like the end of the seventh, or when the judge, Raul Caiz Snr, helped him a bit, because the bandages on his wrist were a bit loose, or I would make him grab him, and he jumped and saved him, and I thought I would stop him in 11 and 12 rounds.

But I just remember that I was under full control. The fight went nice for me
Quick: until the last round I was so concentrated. I remember that I wanted to stop him in 12th place, but he managed to hang there.

It would be much better for Lacy if it was stopped: I ruined his career that night. Psychologically, more than physically, he never recovered after the beating he received.

He was a warrior to stay in him for 12 rounds – if anything showed too much heart – and I respect him for it. It was there that his corner should pull him out: I thought they could do it at the end – he looked so depressed at the end of 10 and 11 – both his eyes were cut and swollen, and he did not know what such a round was.

I am glad that it went a distance: I liked 12 rounds. At the end I had such relief, an amazing feeling: I was always my worst critic, but I knew I did something special.

After almost withdrawing, so that it finally happened, against another master, it was just a stunning moment. It was also a debt collection for my father; Many people were unaware of him because he never boxed, but he was the best coach for me.

Later I received a huge cover and it was nice; Especially after writing back.

Thank you Gary Shaw and the people who put this fight.

There has always been something more than Guinness, Karaoke and drinking naked at dawn in Las Vegas between Ricky and Matthew Hatton. Every time they sat to look at the fight, they felt blows. They took each of the blows, every failure and moment of glory. This is the fighting brothers. When it looked like Ricky had finished boxing, he was one last week of great fight for boys. It was Matthew, this time Ricky.

At the end of 2010, there was the offer of Robert Diaz from Golden Boy, that Matthew would fight the saul “Canelo” Alvarez; 10 rounds in a welterweight in Los Angeles in March 2011. Alvarez was a child of 20 years, undefeated in 36 fights, and his name began to wear a challenging currency in our company. Oscar de la Hoya was very excited about a child.

“We agreed on the conditions of the fight within 10 rounds at 10.7, and then a few weeks before the camp they dismissed,” Hatton remembered. “The title of WBC WBC was empty and asked if I was fighting him for this title at 10.10. We talked about money and we made a contract.” Hatton has never been a great welterweight weight, but it was a proper welterweight; Alvarez was always a beast, a beast with every weight.

The boys came to Los Angeles a week before the fight. Initially, they began to defeat the residence low, they hide, a silent gym, without receiving in red. No confusion, only a tight diminutive group. There was Ricky, Bob Shannon, Ray Hatton, Gareth Williams, their lawyer. More friends and relatives arrived a few days before the first bell – it was Hatton Way.

They switched to a wild card and suddenly landed in the land of great fight; Children in Canelo hats, ancient men speak Spanish about a child, Freddie Roach is a diplomat. The Hattones saw and heard all this earlier, there was no great fear or surprise. Everyone was gigantic boys, they knew how the company works.

Matthew could fight, never forget about it. His record of this week in Los Angeles is 41 wins of 47 fights, he defeated Gianluca Branco for the European title, did two good defense and was sewn over 12 against Lovemore N’dou in a program promoted by his father. That night the ring looked more like a crowd in a baptism family than a great fight. House, father and brother’s advantage never helped: “I could take them off my Christmas card list,” Matthew told me.

Alvarez beat over 12 rounds in his last fight. Yes, Hatton could fight, not make a mistake, and any canopy of protection extended by the reputation of his brother has long disappeared. I don’t think it ever exists.

“We’ve still heard that he would never bring importance and that he was huge,” added Hatton. “Everyone on a wild card spoke about him. I did not care about the weight, but I still told Gareth, our lawyer and my father to make sure he was 10.10 when we got into the scales.” Everyone knew that Alvarez was unlikely to be weight.

“I entered the scales and I had 10.9, and then he began and was 10.12. It wasn’t a shock,” said Hatton. “I returned to the hotel and left Gareth and my father to solve it. He had an hour to bear the burden – he returned and was a bit heavier; he did not bother, he never intended to bear the burden. It was never his plan.”

Hatton returned to the hotel, relaxing, eating. Without panic, he knew what he signed, he knew exactly what he was in Los Angeles.

“They called me in a hotel and asked what I want to do and I had a choice,” continued Hatton. “I could pull out and still get 20 or 25 percent, but I had about 30 families and friends there: I was going to fight. Then they told they asked for double. I told them:” They won’t pay twice. ” I just ate and then called and they said they would pay double. “

There was a fresh agreement with the weight, submitted by men desperately to save the night; It was agreed that Alvarez could be no more than 10 pounds the next day. It sounded good, Alvarez listened and was almost kept. “They conducted the last control from 17:00 to noon, and he got on the naked scales. Later he weighed us-I had 11.1, and he was 11.12. What could I do? I always intended to fight. I never went there on vacation.”

Alvarez entered the ring about 20 pounds heavier than the initial agreed weight and was probably a heavier stone than Hatton.

“In the ring I enjoyed the atmosphere, I really was, and then came in, in one of these enormous Mexican dresses,” added Hatton. “He took it off and I looked at: the fuck, he looked like Popeye after spinach. He was huge.” I witnessed it from the ring and it really must be a nightmare vision for his opponents.

“I immediately felt the importance of his shots and the way he moved,” I knew in about a minute, “I knew it would be a hard night,” said Hatton, as honestly, as you might expect, and I could feel the emotion of the arms in his voice. “I just had to fight.”

And fight, he did it. This is not a fight you imagine, remember or a fight that was said to be so. Look, it won’t be a waste of time. Full 12 rounds tonight in Los Angeles Alvarez won points. The rest, as they say, is a story.