The History of the Red Ribbon

No, not the DARE kind. 

And disclaimer: the word “history” is being used loosely as I could only find one source, so consider yourself forewarned.

We’ve all seen it. A proud Mexican boxer strutting to the ring wearing a red ribbon with his last name emblazoned upon it tied aroud his forehead, popularized by Julio Cesar Chavez Sr. and carried on by JCC Jr. and, well, every other Mexican boxer currently fighting and their fans. (And I also saw them at the USA vs. Mexico soccer match earlier this year, although I was too busy trying to keep my husband out of jail to inquire as to why.)

According to Jose Sulaiman, this whole trend started before JCC Sr.’s fight against Edwin Rosario, which probably occurred at some point before my birth. (Editor’s note: No it didn’t. I was 7.) As legend has it, Rosario was alleged to have been utilizing black magic against Sr., and it was also reported that they had “his [Sr.’s] picture upside down in the refrigerator in an ice bucket.” Jose Sulaiman, Hook to the Liver.  Enter a friend of Hector “Macho” Camacho’s, who recommended that Sr. wear something red to the ring in order to ward off sorcery. Cue the red ribbon. And boom! Chavez won the fight and evil spirits the world over were befallen at least for that night. (I made up that last part. But it could have happened!)

I kind of feel like I owe you all an apology, folks, because I really wanted this to be better. I thought that FOR SURE the history would encompass years of red ribbon headband wearers fighting various battles. Surely the Mayans had something to do with this, right?! But all I got was Jose Sulaimain said a friend of Camacho’s hooked up Sr. and he won. Not a bad story, but not the best either.

So, in the spirit of creativity, I’ve comprised a list of additional reasons why Sr. might have started sporting that iconic red ribbon headband. An official list, if you will:

The Official Junk in the Trunks List of Reasons that Sr. Wears a Red Headband:

1. This is an easy one, guys (and girls, of course): maybe he likes the color red. I mean, if my job would allow it, I’d wear a different colored headband (but probably mostly pink) with a different last name on it every day AND I’d incorporate a roman numeral at the end, just for the fuck of it! 

2. Red is the color of blood, and he’s a warrior, right? It just makes sense.

3. It’s one of the colors in Mexico’s flag, although I have to say this is the least likely of reasons to wear a red headband. Sr. is a national icon, he could DEFINITELY have a headband with all of the colors in the flag made for him. Shoot, he could wear a replica of the flag itself across his forehead if he wanted to. So this probably isn’t it.

4. “Rambo” wore one, and he was a badass. But this is kind of a “chicken and the egg” scenario. Which came first?! Technically, Wiki told me that “First Blood” was released in 1982 and Chavez fought Rosario in 1987. So really, he could have been mirroring the badassery that was Rambo. Or MAYBE Rambo is such a badass that he could see the future and knew in advance that Sr. would be the quintessential badass and decided to wear the red headband in an effort to be as great as Sr. Either explanation makes perfect sense, so pick your favorite and run with it. 

5.  It matches his skin tone nicely. Not just anyone could pull that off and still look good, but Sr. did it. (And still does. Not that I have a thing for old guys, but that man is a hottie. Truth.)

And finally:

6. Maybe the top part of his head would fall off without it. Remember that urban legend about the girl who wore the ribbon around her neck? When it was removed, HER HEAD FELL OFF! What if that was the case with Sr. at the time and we just didn’t know about it? A cynic might point out that there were pictures of Sr. taken before the headband (and after) where it was missing and his head was intact, but there’s a perfectly reliable explanation for that: makeup. Lots of it. (Or a flesh toned headband.) And once he became big time, maybe he just super glued the top part of his head to the rest of his head! (Or had some kind of surgery. The possiblities abound!) And now that the top part of his forehead has been permanently affixed to the rest of his head, he just wears the red headband for nostalgic reasons. 

It’s also possible that he still wears the headband to ward off evil spirits before Jr’s fights. But if that’s the case, it might be time to switch up the technique a little, as the luck is clearly wearing off. Except in Texas. You’ll always win here, Jr.! (Editor’s note: I know he won his last fight, but c’mon.) 

Twitter: @junk_n_trunx

Facebook: Just look up “Junk in the Trunks”

The site where I obtained the story about Sr. is: http://wbcboxing.com/wbceng/calendar-gancho/2013/06

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On Floyd Mayweather

I’m going to let you all in on a little secret: I’m a girl.

And I’m also a Mayweather fan. 

Although I’ve been informed in polite (and not so polite) company that the two should be mutually exclusive. In fact, one might actually be surprised at the boorish nature of complete strangers who, when the subject of Mayweather is mentioned, feel it necessary to remind me of my link to Eve. (Trust me, my monthly caller and massive collection of paper and cotton absorbent products in my bathroom cabinet are all the reminder I need. Shoutout to all of my male readers!)
But still the ugly truth remains that to most, I shouldn’t appreciate Floyd Mayweather Jr. in any way. Not as an athlete, a person, and certainly not as a man. Because the crime that he committed against a woman is the most reprehensible one that a man can commit aside from rape-he beat her. Badly, from what I’ve read. In front of their children no less. 

I’m not here to advocate on behalf of Floyd (not that he would need it, anyway), but I would like to discuss just how fatally flawed the “you can’t like Mayweather if you’re a girl” argument is. (The “I can like whoever I want, dammit” argument notwithstanding, of course. ) I feel it important to note at this point the obvious, which is that I’m more than capable of separating the actions of a man from the abilities of an athlete. Mayweather is the best at what he does at this time. He might not be the most interesting or exciting fighter, but he’s cornered the “hit and don’t be hit” market. The dude is a defensive genius, and he’s definitely mastered the mental chess aspect of the game.  Love him or hate him (both acceptable) he’s the pound for pound greatest of his time until he retires and a more talented boxer comes along. 

Now let’s deflect for a second here and turn our collective attentions to the NFL. It just so happens that a fortunate occurence, well, occurred in the middle of my writing this post. Namely, this meme popped up on my Facebook feed:

  
Don’t get me wrong, I’m a football fan as well. (College, that is.) As a matter of fact, I’m staying up way too late on game day to get this post published. But I think we can all agree that one need look no further than the NFL to find a rather large amalgamation of derelicts. For within that league  exists a veritable potpurri of offenders: women beaters, kid beaters, dog beaters, rapists, murderers, and ball deflaters (like I could let that last one go.)  

According to an article written by Tomas Barrabi, “NFL’s History of Domestic Violence Extends Beyond Ray Rice, Adrian Peterson Abuse Cases” (September, 2014), from the years spanning 1989-1994, 140 current and former professional or college football players were reported to police for violent acts against women.  And lawd, let’s not forget O.J. After the O.J. arrest in 1994, another study examined criminal background checks on 500 players at random, showing that 21% of them had a record for a serious crime, prominently domestic violence (Barrabi, 2014). 

Granted, 1994 was a loooooong time ago. But not much has changed since then. The same article posits that “Among the 713 arrests of NFL players from 2000-2014, 85 were related to domestic violence,” (Barrabi, 2014). (On a sidenote-713 arrests?! Holy shit! What are those boys doing?!) Regardless of your loyalty toward the sport, the statistics point to a very real problem within the league.  And the NFL’s response? Basically,”we picked these guys up from impoverished hoods! What would you expect from them?” Huh. Can’t remember the last silver spoon sucking, born into wealth boxer that came across my screen. (Kidding, it was Chavez Jr!) But for real, most fighters come from seedy, money-challenged backgrounds, as boxing has always been hailed as a poor man’s sport because it’s one of the cheapest to engage in. 

With all of this being said, why is it okay (encouraged, even) for women to appreciate professional football? Why are these women accepted and lauded while I, a self-proclaimed female Floyd fan, am basically told that I need to be better? After all, we buy the t-shirts and jerseys of men who have commited the same crimes, don’t we? So why is one accepted and the other not?

Oh, I know that Floyd is annoying. But so is Tom Brady with his perfect hair, Ray Rice with his Ray Rice-ness, Aaron Hernandez with his murder charge, and Michael Vick for being Michael Vick. (And don’t even get me started on Tim Tebow.) Just because one is louder and more obnoxious than the other doesn’t make his crime less equal. 

Even more disturbing is that as of 2011, one in three women have experienced “rape, physical violence, and/or stalking by an intimate partner in their lifetime,” (Black, Basile, Breiding, Smith, Walters, Merrick, Chen, & Stevens, 2011). Again, one in three. That’s a disturbingly small amount. In other words: if you have three sisters, three female family members, or three female friends in the same room, one of them has exprienced some form of domestic violence from someone that they trusted, be it a boyfriend, husband, or a hook up.  If we as women are strong enough to look past our own hardships and are able separate the bad from the good from the not applicable in a man and still appreciate their talents, let us. Don’t tell us that we need to be better.

 Indeed, for that we already are. 

Twitter: @junk_n_trunx

Facebook: Just look up “Junk in the Trunks”

Never though I’d need a reference section post grad school, but here it is:

Barrabi, Thomas (IBT Times.com, 2014). NFL’s History of Domestic Violence Extends Beyond Ray Rice, Adrian Peterson Abuse Cases. Retrieved from: http://www.ibtimes.com/nfls-history-domestic-violence-extends-beyond-ray-rice-adrian-peterson-abuse-cases-1692014.

Black, M.C., Basile, K.C., Breiding, M.J., Smith, S.G., Walters, M.L., Merrick, M.T., Chen, J. & Stevens, M.R. (2011). The National Intimate Partner and Sexual Violence Survey (NISVS): 2010 Summary Report. Atlanta, GA: National Center for Injury Prevention and Control, Centers for Disease Control, and Prevention.

Why Rousey vs. Mayweather Will Never Happen

In the words of the immortal Tone Loc, “let’s do this.”

Unless you’ve been hiding from Bleacher Report or Facebook for the past month, you’ve undoubtedly heard in some form or fashion about the “beef” that’s been occurring between Ronda Rousey and Floyd Mayweather. (“Beef” is in quotes, btw, because it really seems like this is just Ronda being an attention whore and that Floyd is metaphorically swatting away the annoying fly without truly being all that angered toward her.) I really want this to go away, but I’ve also found that I apparently have strong feelings about this that just won’t quit; and as the old saying goes: “Those who can do, those who can’t teach, and the rest blog.” Or something like that.

First of all, there is no way in hell that Floyd or Floyd’s people (read: Al Haymon) would ever allow him to do this. This would be a PR nightmare for all involved. It doesn’t require exceptional mental prowess to understand that pitting a man convicted of domestic violence against his ex-baby mama in a ring with the intent to fight a woman is a bad idea. Period. And even if all of the VIPs in Floyd’s camp (read: Al Haymon) suffered a giant lapse in judgment, there isn’t a sanctioning body in the nation that would allow this fight to occur, BECAUSE IT’S A TERRIBLE IDEA. (Not even Texas, which is saying a lot. Of course, if the potential bout was JCC Jr. or Canelo vs. Rousey, Texas would be all over it. And Jr. or Canelo would win before even arriving at the arena. That’s just how we roll down here).

If, hypothetically, this fight were agreed upon by all parties, magically obtained a sanctioning body, and was actually going to happen, the next roadblock would be figuring out what type of fight it would be: MMA vs. boxing.  Before I go any further, I’d like to take a second to recognize the legion of rhinestone studded Affliction t-shirt wearing masses who have leapt at the opportunity to point out that “Ronda would kick Floyd’s ass in an MMA fight!” You’re probably right. (Take a screenshot of this, folks, and save it forever as it’s more than likely the only time that I’ll acknowledge and/or agree with MMA fans.) But it doesn’t matter, because I guarantee that this would be a boxing match.  And here’s why:

Yes, Ronda has become a nationally (internationally?) recognized phenom in MMA. Rightfully so. This chick has worked her ass off and earned her place at the top. She’s a beast. But she’s no Mayweather. She lacks the star power, notoriety, (love him or hate him, you’re still watching his fights, and if you say that you aren’t, you’re lying. The same can’t be said for Rousey.)and most importantly the money (TMT shoutout!) that is associated with a Mayweather fight. This man generates millions upon millions of dollars in ticket sales alone, not even counting what he makes in PPV sales, merch sales, or money from “All Access.” And as we all know, the dollar always wins.  I’m not saying that there wouldn’t be a multitude of arguments and contract negotiations between the two camps, because there would be. But Floyd would win in the end, because if he didn’t get his way, he would walk. And the whole thing would be just another pipe dream. (Hopefully much like Margarito’s recent push to get back into the ring, which would definitely be sanctioned by Texas.)

I would say that weight class would be an issue, but more than likely they would just fight under an agreed upon catchweight (which fight fans just LOVE but would be a necessary evil in this case) with a rehydration clause. I just felt like I should address it because I wrote “Weight Class???” as a potential barrier in my notes.

All jest aside, though, there lies a much bigger and important issue at stake here: feminism-to an extent, anyway.  (Bye, male readers! Thanks for sticking around for the first half!) As I’ve previously mentioned, Rousey’s is a household name now, and her fame and accolades are certainly well deserved. She’s become a hero to young girls, which is something I find appropriate. As someone who isn’t even an MMA fan, I have a lot of respect for her because she’s become such a prominent figure in a male-driven sport, and I wholeheartedly agree that her status as a mentor is appropriate. With all of that being said, does she really want to encourage to the girls who idolize her the idea that it’s okay for a guy to hit you (because let’s be real, Floyd would get a few hits in) if you’re being paid for it? Because that’s kind of the message that she’s sending. 

There’s also the fact that she hangs out with Mike Tyson, a convicted rapist. Regardless of your feelings about Iron Mike, the fact remains that he WAS convicted and served time. Much like Floyd WAS convicted and served time for his wrongdoings as well. Both men have multiple crimes against women under their respective belts (no pun intended), and although these crimes differ in nature they are very much equals in that respect. Why, then, is there no call to arms against Mike circulating various social media platforms? Eye for an eye, right? At least, that seems to be the antequated notion she’s operating under.  Maybe because that fight just wouldn’t be as lucrative. 

At any rate, I truly do hope that this nonsense is over now.  Because a marriage between these two sports (even if only for a night) is a bastardization that I just can’t handle. After all, I don’t even own a Bedazzler. 

The Filipino Man and the Sea

*Disclaimer: I’m not a doctor and lack any degrees associated with the medical field. Which is a moot point in this case, because you don’t have to be an MD to know that this story is complete and utter bullshit.

For those of you who haven’t heard the latest and greatest in the saga of Manny and the torn rotator cuff, you’ll be happy to learn that he’s been fully healed. “But Jenna,” you might be saying “I heard/read/was told by my neighborhood Pactard that Manny was neglecting to go to rehab in LA. Did he go to rehab in the Phillippines instead?” And to you I say no, dear reader. To my knowledge, as of this day our favorite Filipino fighter remains with his feet steadfastly grounded on the subject of rehab. Because he’s got something better:

God and the ocean.

That’s right. Several boxing news sources revealed late last week that Pac-man himself reported his shoulder has been completely healed through prayer and swimming in the salty sea.  And the never ending supply of Yes Men in his camp have (of course) totally gone along with this nonsense, also attributing Pac’s miraculous turnaround to his faith and devotion to God and the healing properties of saltwater. I couldn’t make this up if I tried. 

Couple of problems with this, guys (and gals-no misogyny up in here): First of all (again, no medical background), wouldn’t it be extremely painful and difficult to breaststroke with a torn rotator cuff? And wouldn’t it be EVEN HARDER to swim with a newly repaired (formerly torn) rotator cuff that had required surgical intervention but had never been worked in rehab? 

Yes, people. Yes it would. (Not to mention the fact that were Manny actually swimming with a newly repaired non-rehabbed injury in the ocean he might,oh I don’t know, appear to be injured. This would leave him susceptible to shark attacks. IJS, I watch “Shark Week.” 😁) This feat was more irresponsible on the part of the Pac camp than that time when they encouraged his singing career. 

If one were a bit cynical (like me), one might attribute this sudden healing to another recent announcement made by none other than Bastard Bob Arum himself regarding a fight between Pacquaio and everyone’s favourite whiny Brit, Amir Khan. Per Arum, this fight would occur in 2016 in Dubai. Nice of them to throw a bone Khan’s way after Mayweather jerked him around so, but this should raise more than just a few eyebrows on the validity of Shouldergate as a whole.

Now, as a testament to my loyalty toward this blog (and because I got a really gross bruise from drunkenly walking into my bed frame about a week ago that I wanted to get rid of. It’s still shorts season.) I decided to conduct my own saltwater healing experiment.  I didn’t think to take a “Before” picture, so you’ll have to take my word for it when I say the bruise was, indeed, really gross. Picture it completely filled in, reddish/purplish/blackish and puffy. 

And here’s the “After,” four days of daily, half-hour long Epsom salt soaks later (Excuse my super white skin):

  
So as you can see, saltwater DOES have some healing powers. Had I added prayer, this might have cleared up completely before my beach trip. But you all know what they say about hindsight. (Shoutout to Walgreen’s Epsom Salt, BTW. Incidentally, the back of the bag also lauds its effectiveness as an enema treatment, but I’m not that committed to this cause. Perhaps Manny can try it out after his next ass reaming by Mayweather, should that day ever come.)

Pacquaio just needs to come clean, admit that he lost the fight fair and square without some excuse about a made up shoulder injury, and let us all forget that this idiocy ever happened.  The dude is a legend in the ring and this crap is beneath him. It would be truly sad for this to be one of the final things to tarnish the legacy of an otherwise brilliant boxer and seemingly good person.  Be better, Manny. 
Been a little quiet lately but I’m still on Twitter, y’all!  @junk_n_trunx 

One (more) Time?

First, any chance I have to quote Britney, I’ll take.

Secondly, (and keeping with the musical theme) supersition ain’t the way, y’all.

As most of my loyal readers (hi, family!) know, I’m a big Keith Thurman fan. He’s probably my favorite boxer, which says a lot as I don’t have one favorite anything. At least quarterly, Keith Thurman and superstition intersect in my life in this major way:

  
Ladies and gentleman of the blogosphere, I present to you my Facebook (and Twitter) picture. Now don’t get me wrong, this is my picture for about half the year anyway as it’s one of my favorites. But God forbid I have any other picture as my profile on social media about two weeks prior to a Thurman fight, be it a picture of family, the Pope (it never would be), or my dogs. Because somehow, some way, in this wonderfully intricate and beautiful universe of ours, this picture carries great weight in ensuring a Thurman win.

Or at least to me it does. 

So every few weeks before a Thurman fight without fail, this picture goes up. (This quirk has not gone unnoticed by the few friends I have who also hold an interest in the pugilistic arts, by the way.) And every time it does, like clockwork, a win. 

But this year, my superstitions got a little out of control. Not only did the requisite photo go up on social media just in time, I also talked myself into wearing a dress to the fight party I was hosting. Because after all, there was another time when I wore a dress on another night that Keith was fighting and he won then, too.  And then there were my bangs. To straighten or not to straighten? As I was putting the flat iron back into the bathroom cabinet because I deemed it would take too much time to straighten my hair, my hand stopped cold as I withdrew it. 

I had to straighten my damned bangs.

 Because EVERY OTHER TIME I’ve watched Keith fight, I wore my bangs straight. (Seriously, in retrospect I’m not even entirely sure this last part is true.) So out came the flat iron, and amid the straightening serum and my new split ends, I realized that I had gone overboard. Just a bit. If (when) Keith won that night, it would be entirely the consequence of his hard work and dedication to a sport that had been the root of his existence since childhood, and would have very little (if nothing) to do with my attire or choice of hairstyle.

And then the fight came, and we saw a version of Thurman that’s been creeping it’s way in since his fight with Bundu in December. Thurman the boxer, Thurman the “runner” (At least for a split second. I suppose it could also be regarded as “showing ring generalship,” since it did require Collazo to follow him, but it’s something I don’t like seeing from Keith),  and, (as much as I hate to admit it) Thurman the vulnerable.  That body shot was intense, y’all. I’ve never seen Thurman in pain like that, and it was a bit scary. 

Thankfully, the accidental headbutt serving as Collazo’s excuse to be a quitter came just in time, and Thurman collected another W. But I doubt I’m alone in speculating that this fight was not the exhibition that it should have been for Thurman, and it in no way appeared to be as easy as was expected.

There’s been much speculation over Thurman lately;  his power, the effect of his relationship with Al Haymon, and his worth in the boxing world. He’s definitely not the same fighter that he was even a year and a half ago-the guy who could take you out with a solitary punch in a late round-and as a result, he’s lost some of his excitement factor.  Oh, there’s always the chance that it could happen, and it probably will again soon. But it hasn’t happened since April of last year, when Julio Diaz took a knee and ended their fight in the third round after a tough body shot. 

Don’t get me wrong-as a true fan of Thurman I thoroughly enjoyed the discovery of Keith as more than a one-dimensional power puncher against Bundu, it was just a shock to the system and not at all what I was accustomed to. But after another decision win against Guerrero and now this, I’m ready for the power puncher to come back.  

Or is it just that opponents know what to expect from him now, and train in such a manner as to avoid his one shot KO strategy and force him to box? That’s definitely the safer strategy in a fight against Thurman. And how much blame can be placed on Uncle Al for potentially shielding Keith from tougher opponents, those who could truly force him to push himself to an even higher level? Does Thurman deserve a shot at Mayweather? (For the record: I don’t believe that he does, but I’ve been saying that for quite some time now. I just don’t want him to peak too soon). 

But for now-a win is a win, and I remain as big a Thurman fan as before. I’m excited to see the direction his career will be taking from here, and can be counted on to watch his next fight. 

 Only this time, I’ll have curly hair and will be wearing pants.
Follow me on Twitter! I’m @junk_n_trunx 

Coooooooooooottoooooooooo!

First off- no, I don’t mean MMA (or UFC).

Secondly-My favorite boxer isn’t Manny Pacquaio. 

This, my friends, is just a short glimpse into the life of a female boxing fan. When attempting to engage a new person in a conversation about the sport, I’m typically met with a sneer of some sort when the d-bag I’m talking to dismisses me as being just some cute lil thing trying to impress the big boys. Then comes the inevitable. The response I loathe. “Who is your favorite boxer, anyway? Mannnnyyy?” (It’s said just like that, too. If you really want the full effect, read it out loud, and if you don’t sound like a complete dickhead at first, re-read it until you do.) I tend to enjoy responding to this, especially in front of a larger group of people, because nine times out of ten the person has no idea who my favorite boxer is after I say their name. (Or in the case of a Facebook convo, who the dude in the picture with me is.)

Duh. Keith “One Time” Thurman.

The point can also be driven home by dropping a few other names obscure to your typical random asshat casual boxing fan, like so:

Amir Khan (stop laughing)

Brandon Rios

Kell Brook

Adrien Broner

Shawn Porter

Ruslan Provodnikov

And if you really want to sound like a boxing hipster, bring Cuba into the conversation. I guarantee that after throwing around an Erislandy Lara or (even better) a Guillermo Rigondeaux, you’ve pretty much won this fight. A couple of years ago, the same effect could have been achieved by dropping a Gennady Golovkin or (even) a Canelo Alvarez (shocking, especially in Texas, but it used to be so).

Or even this guy: Miguel Cotto. Not so much so in the past couple of years, but I can remember a time when he wasn’t as well known as he is now, at least not to your typical random asshat casual boxing fan (this needs to go on a t-shirt, by the way.)  It can be stated without argument that boxing fans have definitely seen a change for the better in Cotto’s style since he started training with Freddie Roach in 2012.  No longer a boxer (although he is more than capable of being one) but moreso a brawler, bringing action and, well, fun to his fights. (Unless you’re Geale. Pretty sure that wasn’t fun for him.) Roach has succeeded in bringing out the “raging bull” in Cotto, a goal he publicly set for himself when the pair announced that they would be joinng forces.

The same held true in Cotto’s bout against Australian Daniel Geale last night, when Geale went down in the fourth round after being hit with Cotto’s devastating left hook. After being stopped again in the same round, Geale shook his head “no” when asked by the ref if he was okay, and the fight was ended. I feel it’s safe to say that no one was truly suprised that the fight ended this way, with the real fun happening after the decision was announced.

Who does Cotto plan to fight next? Canelo. Not really a shocker to those who follow boxing, as the possibility of this fight had been announced weeks ago. The real surprise (to me, anyway) was when Cotto said that it would be “just another fight,” as Canelo is “just another fighter.”

Que?

Did Cotto miss that fight on 5/9? You know, that uneventful one (sarcasm, by the way) with the beautiful KO of Kirkland? I’m all about boxers down playing another fighter in order to psych themselves up, but if Cotto truly believes this I think we’ll all be in for a one-sided battle. If the fight even happens, that is.  Because Cotto has to take time off to spend with his family before committing to a date. Now, I’m all for taking time off to spend with one’s family (if you like them, otherwise I say screw it and go to Disneyland or something instead.) But dude is averaging one fight PER YEAR. That’s a lot of family time. Moreso even than the likes of other fighters such as Mayweather and Pac, who fight twice a year (as any typical random asshat casual boxing fan would know).

And even with Cotto’s new found offensive-strategy raging bull realness, a fight with Canelo will not be as easy as he may think. Granted, they’re both strong guys and both great fighters in their own likes. But Canelo has the combination of strength and youth behind him. And I know, I know, age isn’t everything, and B-Hop and all, but this combo in a fighter like Canelo could mean bad things for Cotto. Which is why I’m wondering if it happens in the first place. (And really, does Chris Algieri have plans next June? Because if Cotto’s trend of yearly first week in June only fights continues, he might). 

A potential fight with Gennady? I wouldn’t hold my breath on that one, folks. Not only did Cotto stammer out a bs response, it took him about 30 seconds to do so. Bottom line? He’s running scared of GGG, and with good reason, as he plans to retire soon and going out on a fight with GGG probably isn’t the best ending to an otherwise great (for the most part) boxing legacy. 

Finally, I can’t be the only one who caught the major shade Cotto was throwing at Max Kellerman after being asked if he was a middle weight fighter now.  That deserves a “Face Off” special of it’s own. (Does HBO even still do those??)

And for those of you who think I’m being too hard on Cotto, I’m actually a fan.  Had it been up to me, this guy would have been named Cotto. Instead, I let my husband name him. Taco Kawhi. (Texans.)

        Look! He’s being shy and moody, just like his would-be namesake!
Also-I’m on Twitter! You can find me at @junk_n_trunx 

Chocola-who?!

Nights like last Saturday prove to be the BEST fodder for fans who need a response to the ever-growing (ever-ridiculous) “boxing is dead” mantra that just won’t quit. We all knew that GGG was going to bring it (because really, has there ever been a time when he hasn’t), but I’m not sure that anyone was prepared for the show that was put on by Roman “Chocolatito” Gonzalez. In his debut on American television, the Nicaraguan heavy hitter stopped Edgar Sosa (and I use the term “stopped,” VERY loosely, y’all. More like damn near ended) in the second round of the bout using a relentless flurry of punches. 

Almost as interesting as the KO itself was the manner in which Chocolatito conducted himself afterward. Much like Canelo the week before, Chocolatito displayed great concern and care for his opponent; he stood near him after the KO, had his arm around him, and even rubbed his head in a gesture of friendship (huh huh). It appears as though the up and comers are cut from a different cloth from their predecessors, and we could be moving away from the days of the victor walking away from the, um, not victor, arms stretched toward the sky in jubilation all the while ignoring the grim scene behind him. (But isn’t that one of the things that is so loved about boxing? The great juxtaposition of the victor shamelessly celebrating a win, refusing to allow the grisly scene of defeat staring him in the face to mar the sweetness of the moment? While all the while knowing that the next time the roles could very well be reversed? But I digress.)

In his speech after the win, Chocolatito said that this was the reason he gets up at 4:00 in the morning to go to the gym, that this moment made it all worth it. I think that this kid is destined for greatness, folks. And I also think it’s going to be an amazing ride on the way there.  A fellow blogger (though I’m nowhere near the same league as him or his work, but if you haven’t yet checked out Saturday Night Boxing, you’re missing out) tweeted that he’d like to see Chocolatito on the same four times a year on HBO plan as GGG, and I couldn’t agree with him more. 

Gennady Golovkin vs Willie Monroe

I’d be extremely remiss in not mentioning the fact that we (or I at least) saw a different GGG than I’m used to last week. Yes, he was still a powerhouse. And a beast. And a badass. And every other adjective that could possibly be used in conjunction with his name. But he was also something else on Saturday, if even just for a millisecond-vulnerable. The fight started out the way that most expected it to-with Monroe on the canvas in the second round. (Not gonna lie, I had to work on Sunday and the thought of having two fights end in an explosive fashion in 30 minutes total was pretty appealing.)

But then Monroe got up. And went down again. And got up again (much to the surprise of the masses) and continued to fight. The guy showed a ton of heart, and even though it was clear that he was in over his head, gave it a really good go. He also nailed GGG a few times with some hard shots, and at one point it seemed as though GGG was standing in front of him and allowing himself to be hit as a strategy to wane Monroe’s confidence. True, GGG was pretty much walking through the punches, but it was apparent when he retreated to his corner that he was hurt. It was actually even evident during the ring, although scarce.

Despite his best attempts, GGG dominated Monroe in the 6th round, forcing him to the canvas. Monroe stayed down until the ref counted to 9, and after being chided for waiting too long to get up and asked if he could continue, Monroe uttered, “I’m done.”  

Now.

I’ve seen several people talk nonsense on social media about how Monroe “quit,” and while that’s all fine and good, I would challenge any of those people to continue going another six rounds with GGG after the beatdown that Monroe faced in the first half of that fight. Say what you will, but my ass would have been done halfway through the ring walk. It was an exceptional night for boxing, y’all. Whether you believe it was resurrected, zombified, or is as it’s always been, only this time with one new star shining much brighter.