“You can’t overcome this-ruthless, frosty, dark-haired blows, both respected masters who will give and sacrificed everything to win. This 12-round one has key ingredients to produce the match as a fiery and passionate, like every past showdown all-maxicus.”

He said so Bn Before the Super Bantam Union of Kolids between the ruler of WBC Tijuany Erika Morales and the head of WBO Mexico Marco Antonio Barrera. And how right this description turned out to be when the two proud warriors went to the fingers on 12 brutal, unfettered and electrifying rounds. Even a warmly questioned application could not receive a captivating slaughter that was at the show.

During the accumulation, Moralees claimed that many years earlier he made Barrera aware of the sparring session. “The killer about the child’s face” said it was a slip and he was knocked out “only in Erik’s dreams”. The hostility between the couple was observable before the first bell, without touching the gloves to the last round.

Barrera won a lively opening session, and also took the next Stanza, his combination of left left -wing hook turned out to be particularly effective. The third and four rounds turned out to be peaceful before the storm, because from the fifth it was a war.

While Morales was always more busy, more explosive blows came from his rival. Barrera reacted to the bombing of the rights to excessive rank in the fifth, retreating spectacularly and trembling Erik, which led to a stunning roar of recognition from the boisterous crowd.

Barrera fought in the six and seventh rounds, while the tiring Morales shook the stabs and fixed laws. “El Freible” found himself in trouble on the ropes at eight, and Barrera is bursting with the left hooks in the enemy ribs. Bn He commented: “Like Morales, such a slim man, remained straight, testifies to his incomprehensible strength.”

The uncontrollable cruelty lasted until nine, when two Marco Antonio hooks crashed against the jaw of his opponent. Amazingly, Morales fired with a series of crushing rights that opened the wound on Barrera’s swollen left cheek.

A man from the Mexican capital went through the powerful right left with Morales in 10^th And I had to send many penalties to the last minute of the round, when the counterattack attack caused Erik’s shaking. The bloody and bruised Morales hit with laws and mountains when the rivals mentioned the blows.

Barrera’s inner work was extremely impressive in 11^th But Morales refused to give the land. In the final session, knocking was incorrectly caused when Erik slipped on one knee, throwing a hook. To fix balance, Morales threw himself at Barrera, and the couple went to her until the last bell.

Although Erik turned around The fight on the blows landed (319-299), Fortuna had continuous swings, with both boxers repeatedly marked. The general consensus in the ring was that Barrera did enough to report the verdict. But Morales made a controversial decision.

More on this day articles here

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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.