By Bart Barry-
Saturday in Moscow undefeated Ukrainian Oleksandr Usyk became the first unified cruiserweight champion of the world since Evander Holyfield, pitching a 12-round no-hitter against Russia’s Murat Gassiev to win the inaugural season of the World Boxing Super Series. Usyk decisioned Gassiev so lopsidedly not one round went unanimously the Russian’s way. It was a remarkable conclusion to a remarkable run in no way diminished by Americans’ having to watch it on a YouTube stream from Turkey.
Usyk’s was a wonderful performance in consequential of a match as we’ve had in years. What Usyk betrayed through nearly every moment of 36 minutes and Gassiev failed to disrupt more than a pair of times was comfort. There’s an equation of sorts for how a stalking powerpuncher attritions a clever boxer, and it relies mostly on fatigue begotten by discomfiting. If Usyk’s jab and movement looked nervy anxious in Saturday’s opening two minutes they looked strategic gorgeous in the closing round, and the importantest part: They looked nearly the same all through the 32 minutes separating those.
Gassiev may not have landed a single clean shot the entire fight and certainly nothing Usyk didn’t see en route; Gassiev’s few noteworthy blows went through Usyk’s southpaw guard and touched Usyk’s gloves and arms before touching his head.
There was subtlety and awkward wonderment in what Usyk did, and if it was missed by many Americans for the match’s inaccessibility, well, let’s correct what of that we might.
No matter how the opening 2:50 of most rounds went, and most especially the especially consequential middle rounds – when Gassiev had to take anything he learned watching Usyk for five six seven frames and apply his rebuttal – Usyk found a way to punctuate doubt in Gassiev’s mind as the round closed. A wellplaced right uppercut, 5, or uppercut-hook, 6-3, didn’t so much hurt Gassiev as tell him: “I can hit you anytime with anything I want, and I beseech you remember that as your trainer whispers sour nothings in your ear for the next minute.”
Gassiev didn’t get angry, he’s too good and unattached for that, but he got verily discouraged in those pivotal rounds when he expected to begin striking Usyk properly. He trudged cornerwards while Usyk strolled.
And who was there to greet Gassiev when he arrived?
Why, none other than Abel “Plan A” Sanchez, the architect of Mexican Style, a form of prizefighting not one of Mexico’s five greatest prizefighters would recognize. Sanchez’s fighting philosophy appears to rely on, well, not head movement or innovative defense but perhaps initiative – a Sanchez fighter must want to hurt the other man more and oftener, and then everything else sort of works out? To carry such initiative, such enduring and quicksummoned rage, through 36 minutes, is nigh impossible, so a Sanchez fighter must be well-conditioned and attrition his man well before the championship rounds. He must hurt his opponent with every landed punch, and this works because, at the championship level, surely even the least-creative attack must find some purchase sometime in 2,160 seconds of opportunity.
Except Saturday.
In Moscow the Sanchez tactical vision for Gassiev reduced to: Go punch that guy.
Usyk obviously knew what Gassiev would do a third of a second or more before Gassiev did and a halfsecond or more before Gassiev started to do it. If it were a football game Saturday’s fight would evince a stolen playbook; stolen signals, were it a baseball game. Since it’s a fight, though, and there are only so many punches and ways of throwing them, there’s no conspiracy – the verb “to outclass” suffices.
Gassiev recognized it, applauding for Usyk through the reading of the scorecards, but since it might be less apparent to aficionados treated since 2012 to what gullibility has marked Mexican Style’s reception, let’s set the hands unmistakably upon the clock: Usyk outclassed Sanchez at least as much as he outclassed Gassiev.
This was no aberration, either – and a replica preview of how Gennady Golovkin would fare against Billy Joe Saunders, were GGG’s handlers careless enough to make that match (unlikely: Saunders is an actual middleweight).
Usyk is a weird and wonderful gentleman pugilist, dancing ever elegantly to a ballet of his own conjuring. He is physically enormous; let not the title cruiserweight mislead you. And howsoever lightly he appeared to hit Gassiev he is mighty and unwilling to be moved or bullied about the ring. While there’s no doubting Gassiev had power enough to affect Usyk painfully in the first eight rounds of the match – hence Usyk’s abiding vigilance – there’s neither doubting Usyk’s resilience and power of resistance. Out of ideas by round 3 Gassiev’d’ve shoved Usyk where he could were he not routinely chastened by Usyk’s lefthand. Usyk didn’t (doesn’t) hit hard as Gassiev but he sure as hell hit hard enough to dissuade Gassiev.
With frustration came fatigue and with fatigue went Gassiev’s initiative. Even had Gassiev found a way to surprise Usyk after the ninth round nothing about the result’d’ve changed – Gassiev alternately winged wildness or tentatively threw darts, and if Usyk was far too seasoned to be caught by Gassiev’s windups his chin was also far too low to be destabilized by anything less than a combination, and Gassiev threw nary one of those #MexicanStyle.
Let’s close with a few words of gratitude. Thank goodness for the Turks on Saturday. Tivibu Spor, a 24/7 sports unit of Istanbul’s TTNET, delivered for aficionados where no American broadcaster bothered. Much of Saturday’s undercard and every second of its main event happened on Tivibu Spor’s YouTube channel, crisply, cleanly and legally. No logons, no credit cards, no monthly fees, no popups or pirating – just live boxing with commentary blessedly outside our comprehension. One of the talkers was wild for Gassiev, shouting crazily the three times Gassiev threatened Usyk, but otherwise it was a flawless broadcast.
Bart Barry uzerinden ulasilabilir Twitter @bartbarry
