By Bart Barry-
Saturday at Staples Center, Philadelphia welterweight Danny “Swift” Garcia decisioned Californian Robert “The Ghost” Guerrero by unanimous if narrow scores of 116-112. Both men adhered to sound strategies, and the spectacle was entertaining, benefitting as it did from a televised undercard stuffed with b-side quitters (jaw, tongue, hand, elbow). The match’s result enabled a hotly anticipated event of some sort in the fall, and the captain of The Money Team, Floyd “Money” Mayweather, himself, presided over about 2/3 of the main event from ringside, providing one member of the telecast an incredible opportunity for autographs.
The PBC’s struggles with authenticity continued unabated. Garcia-Guerrero, a fair and competitive fight conducted at a level three above most PBC fare, nevertheless felt somehow inauthentic – as if the combatants were in 20-ounce gloves.
Before prizefighting was scripted, back when Richard Schaefer lacked the managerial acumen to do what Al Haymon successfully did last year, Danny Garcia made a pair of matches with Mexican Erik “El Terrible” Morales, and whatever their druthers, Golden Boy executives stood by while Garcia twice beat their guy. The first fight happened in Houston, and Morales, six fights in an illadvised comeback, missed weight widely, got dropped in round 11, but nevertheless did unexpected things enough for Golden Boy to try again for their chance to promote Morales as a legendary champion (not long after Top Rank’s promotion of former Golden Boy partner Marco Antonio Barrera fizzed to its end). Garcia corkscrewed Morales in the canvas during the rematch, one that placed a blemish of unseriousness on both Golden Boy’s and New York’s PED Police badges, and that ended Morales’ career on a note sour as the meat that contaminated the many drug tests he failed till he passed one.
However obviously Golden Boy wanted a Morales victory, however comically they stretched rules in efforts that failed, the Garcia-Morales fights never felt inauthentic the way Saturday’s did, the way PBC cards ever seem to. The rounds went by – and this may speak to an interest in either fighter that does not endure – and little happened to excite viewers, and this may be an offsetting sort of reaction viewers have to the potent inauthenticity of PBC commentators, as if, in search of a mental sort of homeostasis while watching a PBC card, viewers turn down the credulousness settings on their HDTVs – or it might be something quite different actually: their eyes fatigued by squinting to see whatever the hell the commentary crew is on about through the undercard, PBC viewers’ gazes glaze during the main event and their minds go off to graze on nostalgic happenings of yesteryear, be they Garcia’s starching Amir Khan or Guerrero’s icing Martin Honorio.
It was that 2007 fight, right there, a Guerrero co-main in Tucson that preceded Juan Manuel Marquez’s undressing of Rocky Juarez, that brought a stitch of annoyance to Saturday’s viewing, when one of the commentators who was not a fighter continued to stress the talent disparity between Garcia and Guerrero. Talent was simply the wrong word, though exactly the word one might choose if he didn’t know who Guerrero was till a series of music videos preceding “The Ghost’s” 2013 match with Floyd Mayweather (who was in the building Saturday, who was in the building Saturday, who was in the building Saturday).
Before Guerrero became a popup ad for Christ and cancer survivorship, he was a very good, if somewhat overhyped, flyweight, and that is worth reiterating because it belies the apparent disparity in talent Guerrero suffered across from a career junior welterweight like Garcia: At 126 pounds, Guerrero put men to sleep faster than Garcia did at 140. Guerrero turned from boxer-puncher to brawler as he climbed weightclasses because it improved the probability of his consciousness at the ends of welterweight matches.
That was strikingly apparent Saturday, as Garcia graciously ceded large amounts of ring estate for a possibility of putting Guerrero at the end of a righthand lead. At distance, Guerrero had nothing but chin to match Garcia’s fist, and both men knew it. Guerrero was solely successful inside Garcia’s punches; if there were a miscalculation in the match, it was not Guerrero’s but Garcia’s – “Swift” overestimated the devastation his crosses and hooks would wreak when they did land and came within a round or two of needing the very homerun for which he kept swinging.
Fighters gain weight on their chins more than their fists, generally, and Garcia, while still possessed of concussive pop at 147, is not the same puncher he was at 140, a debilitation offset mostly by the experience he acquired fighting championship-caliber men in his pre-PBC years. Whatever Keith Thurman, now as much a salesman as a prizefighter, opines of his own power, the chance of his blasting Garcia before Garcia blasts him is long indeed – not because Thurman lacks talent for the trick but because, unlike Garcia who fought real men in real matches as a real underdog before the PBC pardoned him from doing very much of that, Thurman went from prospect to PBC without proving he has the wiles for unfastening another champion.
Guerrero marked a genuine challenge for Thurman, an opponent that required Thurman’s best to win a safe decision. For Garcia, Guerrero was a showcase opponent of sorts, a knownguy Garcia never worried might beat him, a Money Team-made celebrity Garcia would either look spectacular smashing to pieces or else decision without worry. Guerrero brought more violence than anticipated, and Garcia appeared grateful for it, appreciative of the reminder their 36th minute together gave him: A promotional b-side in a rigged affair who nevertheless believes he will win and fights like it – I remember that feeling!
Bart Barry can be reached via Twitter @bartbarry