Bert Sugar's Post- Fight Analysis

Bert Sugar's Post- Fight Analysis
by Bert Randolph Sugar

The Antonio Margarito-Miguel Cotto fight was what The Wall Street Journal; (The Wall Street Journal, forcryingoutloud!) called “A Fight of the Ages,” and others “The Fight of the Decade” and “The Fight of the Century.” But few things acquit their promise. This fight, however, better bettered expectations. It was everything the pre-fight hype had promised. And more. It was, as Michael Buffer intoned in his pre-fight introductions, “a fight fan’s dream come true.”

For the first six rounds it was Cotto moving brilliantly--forced to fight in retreat to escape Margarito’s relentless pressure--countering, jabbing, catching Margarito in the switches with one-, two-, and three- punch combinations as he rattled punches off the head of the ever-advancing Margarito. But Margarito paid them no-never-mind, barely blinking as he continued to march forward in his Lawrence Welk mechanical a-one-and-a-two step style, trying mightily to catch his elusive tormentor. As punch-after-punch bounced off the granite chin of Margarito, one ringside observer commented, “If lightning struck Margarito, the lightning would probably have to be taken to the hospital.” It was almost like that famous John L. Sullivan line: “If you hit me again and I find out about it, you’re in big trouble.”

Oh, occasionally Margarito succeeded in his plan to break Cotto into smaller, neater pieces. As in the second round when one of his right hands caught Cotto, bloodying his nose; and in the third, when he caught Cotto on the ropes and planted his left uppercut into Cotto’s midsection, almost up to the elbow, and made Cotto wince visibly. But for the first six rounds it was mostly Cotto giving a brilliant clinic on how to stay away from the big, bad destroyer bearing down on him.

But the thunder that had taken so long to erupt finally began to evince itself in the seventh when Margarito hurt Cotto with a right hand. And a vague roar, almost subterranean in quality, began to make itself heard from the Mexican fans who had sat on their hands waiting for their hero, Margarito, to land one of his howitzer-like punches. And as Margarito began to rake Cotto with punches, it erupted into a full-throated roar. Now it was Margarito on the offense, throwing-punch-after-punch, (987 in all for the fight, or almost 90 a round if you’re home, scoring in bed). And Cotto on the retreat, having felt Margarito’s power and no more able to control the tide that the ancient King Canute, looking for all the world like he was interested only in catching the first train going south.

By the ninth you could see the end almost as easily as the egg on the chin of a hungry diner at Denny’s. For there was Cotto probing at Margarito with a dull resignation to his fate, falling backward into the ropes for support and refuge and Margarito Atop him, pummeling him with murderous body shots, his left uppercut up for overtime pay. Twice during the round Cotto literally ran backwards and Margarito, in the blood rush of two strides--almost a Margarito two-step--came arunning after him, catching Cotto, now bivouack’d against the ropes.

In the tenth Margarito hurt Cotto with a right hand from hell, forcing Cotto to fall into a clinch. But Cotto rallied back, giving hope to his Puerto Rican fans. However, that would be but a temporary reprieve for the now-condemned man as Margarito went back on the attack, in the 11th driving Cotto backward with right hands to the head and lefts to the body. Finally, sensing there was no more rent to pay, no Sunday of rest, and no more tomorrows, Cotto sank his knees under the attack. Up at referee Kenny Bayless’ count of nine, within 30 seconds Cotto sank back to his knees in the opposite corner under another relentless onslaught by Margarito. And on the apron could be seen Cotto’s trainer and uncle, Evangelista Cotto, waving the white towel of surrender. It was all over at 2:05 of the 11th round!

What now for the new king of the welterweight mountain, Antonio Margarito? You could see why others had avoided him, shunned him--it even being rumored that Floyd Mayweather Jr. had turned down eight million to fight him. Who would dare step into the ring with this human disposal unit? A Cotto rematch? As Cotto himself said after the fight, “This was Margarito’s night…He did his job better than I did mine.” Who’s to say another night won’t be another “Margarito night”? Floyd Mayweather Jr.? Paul Williams? Oscar DeLa Hoya? Godzilla? But for the moment it doesn’t matter. For this was “Margarito’s night” in one of boxing’s best nights in many a year!

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