30 years ago today: Gregory Lee "The Mutt" Haugen vs. Héctor Luís "Macho Time" Camacho Matías I

... incl maybe the chintziest foul call in all boxing history!

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How did you score it? (+ the rematch for that matter)

 

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Nothing but scorecards or remixes/YTPoops of that clip ITT from now on, thanks everybody.

 

...you're...not watching or scoring (or planning to), are you?

Well...if you were a mod (which you ought've by now come to be, apropos of nothing, to replace me at the very least) I would be asking you to clone this into Classic. Since you're not, I fear we've run short on gob fodder. Awks.

How's, um...school?

 

Gregory Lee Haugen vs. Héctor Luís Camacho Matías (I), 12 rounds @ light welterweight

 

...oof, Camacho was a 7-1 favorite? He's going to end this night with more of a chapped ass than any boricua save maybe a young Ricky Martin (still here relatively obscure as part of Menudo and not yet a solo global megastar)

 

Why does Tessitore believe it to be pronounced "Carmaggio"? Does he think PR is in Italy? Or did his mouth always just run faster than his brain?

 

Round 1 to HC, flitting around pot shotting with the southpaw jab as Haugen chases and grazes the champ's mandible with reach-in left jabs and then misses badly with uppercutting body combos jumping in. Very dull round; I am instantly regretting starting this and committing myself to another eleven.

 

Dos a nada. Quick flurries off the jab by Camacho, still highly mobile and stingy with openings to let Haugen time him. The challenger giving the jab too much respect, shrinking back into a crouch whenever Camacho sallies in with a triple light dart jab fluttered in the air in front of his face. Haugen occasionally driving a right into the breadbasket, too far away to really lay it down properly.

 

Three zip, with a flash knockdown off the southpaw 1-2-3 for Camacho making it 10-8, and 30-26 in total on my card.

Zero chance you'd believe, watching this live, that the white boy in the white trunks would have his hand raised and be awarded the belt (unless the ruddy runner in green camo gassed out badly and fell victim to a late come from behind KO).

 

Haugen rallied well in the fourth, pissed about the KD perhaps. Coming on with clever pressure, kicking his legs into a sidelong gallop halfway inside, then stopping and swaying in the breeze to let Camacho waste powder-puff counter right jabs on phantoms before measuring him up and bouldering down into his ribs with heavy straight rights. Haugen almost gets him trapped on the ropes near the bell and pops a few shots onto that elusive mush.

10-9 Haugen, 39-36 Camacho