There’s an old adage in prizefighting – or if there isn’t, there should be – that you can neither trust a knockout victory on a South American’s resume nor a loss on a Mexican’s. Sometime early in a South American’s career someone determines he’s a puncher then uses matchmaking to prove it. Mexicans, meanwhile, can find themselves against former champions in spotty weight classes before their 10th bouts.
More evidence of the South American case comes from Richard Gutierrez, who fought on the undercard of Showtime’s Saturday broadcast from Nuevo Leon, Mexico. In Colombia, Gutierrez was a power-punching terror, starting his career 18-0 (11 KOs). Since coming to the United States, he’s 6-4-1. Such’ll also be the case with the man who just decisioned Gutierrez, Luis Carlos Abregu, whose record in his native Argentina was 19-0 (16 KOs) but who’ll suffer his first loss soon as he fights any current titlist.
Such is not the case with Venezuelan Edwin Valero.
Saturday in Arena Monterrey, Valero defended his WBC lightweight title against Mexican Antonio DeMarco by causing the tall southpaw to quit on his stool after the ninth round. To make a Mexican quit on his stool against a foreigner, in Mexico, is no mean feat. Afterwards, DeMarco explained: “My body did not respond (correctly).”
As is the case every time a prizefighter accuses his body of not responding, what DeMarco meant to say is: “My opponent’s body did not respond (correctly).”
It sure didn’t. DeMarco had the right style for a wild-swinging Venezuelan southpaw who gets in street fights and arrested for DUIs, might be brain-damaged, and keeps his hands low, his mouth open and his head still. DeMarco could blast a guy like that with right-hook/left-cross combos. The Venezuelan boxer-puncher who showed up Saturday with fantastic footwork, better balance and a willingness to clinch? No chance DeMarco could get that guy to respond correctly.
Edwin Valero is not what you think he is. He’s good as you think he is. But he’s not good like you think he is.
The reason DeMarco’s left cross couldn’t find an opponent three inches shorter was because of Valero’s surprising footwork. Valero would see DeMarco’s right shoulder cock – so as to deliver torque to his left cross – and rock from back foot to front. Valero would next drop his head beneath DeMarco’s onrushing left glove. Then he’d pivot 90 degrees to the right and snap his left foot around. By the time DeMarco’s punch was spent, Valero would be set 18 inches behind DeMarco’s back shoulder.
That’s not the maniac we see on YouTube.
Valero does more thinking than reacting. He’s more young Roberto Duran than young Manny Pacquiao. And at 28, he ain’t that young either.
In round 2 against DeMarco, Valero answered some important questions. He got DeMarco to the ropes and started a right jab. DeMarco caught it with his left glove, took a step forward and winged a right hook that fell short. Valero threw an odd right jab to where DeMarco’s head had just been. The jab landed instead on DeMarco’s left glove – pinning it to the top of DeMarco’s head. But DeMarco had already started a left cross. His glove stayed put, and the rest of his arm completed the punch. His left elbow smashed against a spot on Valero’s head halfway between the right eyebrow and hairline.
Valero immediately touched his own elbow. DeMarco charged. Valero signaled again, remembered he was in a fight, blocked a punch, took a step back and signaled once more. Uh oh, you thought, another Kermit Cintron; another hard-punching head case.
Referee Lawrence Cole stopped the action, saw the deep gash on Valero’s forehead and had the doctor take a look. What ensued was fantastic theater. Cleared to fight on, Valero became the savage we were promised. Half his face covered in blood, his wild hair flying, his rat tail swinging, the Venezuelan swam at DeMarco with lefts and rights, barking as he threw them. ¡“El Inca” está aquí!
Then Valero relented. He’d tried DeMarco’s resolve and found it stiff. No need to let the drunkenness induced by another man’s elbow cause sustained carelessness. He committed to taking openings, not forcing them. When the taller man landed solid punches with his longer arms, Valero did not lunge in or hit back. He clinched and reset. Giving up plenty of height, Valero still made his opponent fight on his terms.
When DeMarco initiated, Valero used his legs to leap out of range while keeping his lead hand low, back hand high and chin tucked behind his right shoulder. If Freddie Roach even dreams of Pacman making a defensive move like that, he’ll wake up with wet sheets.
But let’s be honest. Edwin Valero is a weird dude. He has the eccentric look of escaped convicts and college professors. At times he shows a frantic fighting style that will enchant sadists so long as his knockout streak – currently at 27 – does not break. But he also has a foundation, especially in his lower body, that purists will enjoy interrogating; he breaks rules, yes, but that’s very different from being oblivious of them.
He’s too much of a thinker in the ring, though, to be forgiven gang-related activity and a Las Vegas DUI – and if you were in MGM Grand’s media center after Pacquiao-Cotto, you know Bob Arum sure hasn’t forgiven him. If he’d frightened the hell out of DeMarco, making him bless himself countless times before the bell, then blasted him in 90 seconds, we’d shout, “CAT scans and visa issues be damned, get this beast in an American ring!”
Instead, Valero gave us a complicated personage to think on. As he comes from a country that is more antagonist than feel-good-story, marketing him, too, will require a template of its own.
Valero might well become a great fighter. But he might never be more than an internet legend.
Bart Barry can be reached via Twitter.com/bartbarry