By Norm Frauenheim

LAS VEGAS — Two days before opening bell, promoter Tom Brown promises violence. Minutes later, David Benavidez says enough to enrage David Morrell and his manager, Luis DeCubas, pushing Brown’s promise ever closer to reality during a contentious news conference Thursday. 

Benavidez turned up the rhetoric, elevating the potential hostility by several octaves, with everything from profane threats to personal insults during an angry hour in a ballroom at the MGM Grand.

Ordinarily, trash talk at a boxing news conference is a redundancy. It’s all part of the show. Increasingly however, a method in Benavidez’ madness is apparent. It’s in his words, to be sure. But it’s also in his eyes. Again and again Thursday, the Phoenix-born fighter looked  across the table at Morrell and De Cubas with eyes that flashed like sparks off flint. Benavidez, nicknamed The Monster and sounding like one, looks to be serious in the final hours before his light-heavyweight clash with Morrell Saturday at T-Mobile Arena.

The trash talk is like another training session, one that further sharpens the edge on his mind and emotion. Ask him about it, and he acknowledges that the verbal exchanges help channel his energies and maybe his anger, too.

That wasn’t apparent in his last fight, a light-heavyweight debut, a bout with former 175-pound champion Oleksandr Gvozdyk in June. Benavidez won, but without any of the dynamic energy that has been a trademark for so long. He liked Gvozdyk, a quiet and skillful Ukrainian.

“We spoke different languages and we respected each other, unlike this effing guy, who I don’t effing respect at all,’’ Benavidez told The Boxing Hour/15 Rounds as he waved a dismissive gesture toward Morrell’s side of the stage.

One thing became loudly clear at the newser. Benavidez and Morrell understand each other. Both are fluent in profanity. But there were signs that Morrell wanted to insert a little civility to the pre-fight proceedings.

“Peace and love,’’ Morrell, a Cuban living in Minneapolis, said at the end of his first turn at the bully pulpit.

Benavidez reacted to that like a predator pursuing prey.

“Peace and love, what’s the hell is that?’’ Benavidez said. “But I’m not surprised, because I know he’s effing afraid of me.’’

The hostility, sparked by Benavidez, began with a barrage of insults aimed at De Cubas. De Cubas tried to keep his cool as he spoke amid one interruption after another. But it was to no avail. Finally, De Cubas answered, profanity-for-profanity.

“—-sucker,’’ he yelled, throwing out an obscene insult that set the stage for an X-rated show.

It got so bad that Benavidez manager and promoter, Sampson Lewkowicz actually admonished De Cubas.

 “I want to apologize for De Cubas’ behavior,’’ said Lewkowicz, who isn’t exactly known for diplomacy. “We didn’t need anybody to scream. This fight sells it itself.’’

But the screaming continued anyway for an intriguing light-heavyweight bout between young fighters, both entering their primes and both unbeaten. They’re both cocksure, which isn’t exactly the word De Cubas used to describe Benavidez. But you get the idea.

After the newser, De Cubas said he wasn’t surprised at how Benavidez went at him.

“We know all about Benavidez’ bullying and all of that other stuff,’’ De Cubas said in the relative calm just outside the doors to the MGM Grand’s media room. “I knew it was coming. But when you behave like that, it’s because of fear. I saw that fear in him. Look, I think he knows that some time during the fight he’s going to realize that he shouldn’t have taken this fight in the first place.

“He’s complaining about not shaking hands. Before that, there was all this stuff about steroids. But we were the first to agree to VADA testing. There’s always something. Why? Because he’s afraid he’s gonna get knocked out.”

Who’s afraid of who? Brown’s promise suggests that nobody is afraid at all. In part, that’s why he’s forecasting violence.

“At the end of the day, we’re selling fights, right?’’ said Benavidez, who lives in Miami these days yet continues to honor his Phoenix roots with PHX boldly stitched onto the waistband of his trunks. “Would I rather say he’s a good fighter? I’m trying to sell the fight. I’m trying to sell pay-per-views. I’m trying to generate interest because if I don’t say anything, this effing guy’s not going to say anything. People are paying hard-earned money for this fight. 

“They want to see something. Let’s give them something to see.”

Angry words, but they’re also words from a fighter who hopes to be a peoples champ. Perhaps, The Peoples Champ

“I want to be the Face of Boxing,’’ said Benavidez, who on Thursday was a face hard to ignore. 

Harder to silence. 

By Norm Frauenheim

It’s the first significant fight in a New Year. That’s mere coincidence, but it’s also appropriate.

David Benavidez-versus-David Morrell on February 1, formally announced this week, is all about timing, a theme sure to unfold as both fighters step into their respective primes in only their second fight at light-heavyweight.

In part, it’s a potential stage-setter, both for the sport and the 175-pound division. On the calendar, at least, it’s a chance to move beyond a dreary year, one that figures to be remembered mostly for the Mike Tyson-Jake Paul fiasco. Maybe, the Oleksandr Usyk-Tyson Fury rematch on Dec. 21 changes all of that. We can hope. Make that pray.

At 175 pounds, it’a a chance for the Benavidez-Morrell winner at Las Vegas’ T-Mobile Arena to move into a shot at perhaps the undisputed title against Artur Beterbiev, although even he is talking about Jake Paul.

Paul is calling himself the Face of the Game, mostly because he’s got the key to the vault. There’s speculation he might even coax Andre Ward out of retirement. Big money can do that, and that’s what Paul’s face brings to prize-fighting, more prize than fight these days. Forget the scars, skills and courage. Cash is the only feature that matters anymore. 

Even Saudi Prince Turki Al-Sheikh, who has brought even more cash into the sport, claimed to be the Face after his promotional role in a card featuring accomplished Terence Crawford’s debut victory at junior-middleweight in Los Angeles last summer. Apparently, Al-Sheikh forgot that Crawford had more rights to the Face than just about anybody. When reminded that the reigning Face has to risk that face in the ring, Al-Sheikh — to his credit — backed off.

Meanwhile, Paul’s face eluded most of Tyson’s punches. Then again, there weren’t many to elude. Eighteen landed, for a pathetic average of fewer than three per round over the eight-round farce last Friday in Arlington, Tex. More punches land in shadow boxing. 

It was sad because Tyson used to be The Face. But it’s unrecognizable anymore, bought off by anybody with only cash in his skill set.

Can it be restored? Hard to say. But it’s worth a try and maybe Benavidez-Morrell is a place to start.

Start over. 

I remember an exchange I had with Paul more than two years ago before he fought mixed-martial-arts legend Anderson Silva at Desert Diamond Arena in Glendale, AZ, just a few miles of roadwork from the mean streets where Benavidez grew up near downtown Phoenix.

At the news conference in October 2022, I welcomed Paul to Benavidez’ hometown. At the time, Paul was calling out Canelo Álvarez. He still is. So, I asked him if he wanted to fight Benavidez, too. Paul stopped, looked at me intensely and said: “I’m not ready for that.’’

It was an honest answer, a real moment in a business turning into a carnival, a Hall of Mirrors. Nobody knows what they’re looking at anymore. 

Last week, I had a theory that most in the crowd of 72,000 at AT&T Stadium and a Netflix audience — estimated at 75 million viewers, worldwide — would not know that Usyk and Fury are fighting a rematch for the undisputed heavyweight title next month. Wouldn’t care either. Now, I’m not even sure many would know who Usyk or Fury are. 

To them, the craft is no longer the attraction. Only $pectacle is. They got one, but now there are weird, wild conspiracy theories. $pectacle and conspiracy go together like show and business. 

At last report, a class-action lawsuit has been filed by fans unhappy at Netflix’s production of the event. No word on whether they’re unhappy at themselves from buying into the hype.

The Sweet Science?

Nothing Sweet or Scientific about it.

From this corner, the formal announcement of the Benavidez-Morrell date in the aftermath of Tyson-Paul was a relief. It’s something real, old-school and fundamental in a world gone awry. 

Maybe, I’m expecting too much from Benavidez and Morrell. But all of the time-honored elements are there for a real fight. A memorable one, too. Nobody 58-years-old will be answering an opening bell. Benavidez is 27. He’ll be 28 on Dec. 18. Morrell is 26. He’ll be 27 on Jan. 17. They’re both unbeaten — Benavidez (29-0, 24 KOs) and Morrell (11-0, 9 KOs).

They’re the face of the future. 

For now, that’s the only face we’ve got.

NOTES

Jesus Ramos Jr., a promising junior-middleweight from Casa Grande AZ, will fight on the Benavidez-Morrell undercard. The 23-year-old Ramos was last seen in the corner for his brother Abel in his spirited draw with welterweight champion Mario Barrios on the Paul-Tyson undercard. Jesus Ramos (21-1, 17 KOs) will fight former champion Jeison Rosario (29-4-2, 17 KOs). “I’ve learned my lesson about leaving things up to the judges,’’ Ramos said during a news conference this week in Los Angeles. “I can’t do that anymore. I’m coming to knock him out.”

Emanuel Navarrete is a slight favorite to again beat Oscar Valdez in their junior-lightweight rematch Dec. 7 at Footprint Center in downtown Phoenix. Navarrete is coming off a disappointing performance at a new weight, a split-decision loss at lightweight to Denys Berinychk. Meanwhile, Valdez was impressive in a stoppage of Aussie Liam Wilson, who many believe got robbed of victory over Navarrete in a controversial bout, also in Arizona in 2023. Navarrete is talented, yet erratic. Meanwhile, consistency defines Valdez, whose seemingly inexhaustible resilience continues to make him dangerous.

I’ve already said this on other platforms and I’ll say it again: Tyson-Paul generated real numbers. Real money, too. Here’s a real question: Why was Tyson licensed? In a post after the bout, he talked about dying, saying that he underwent transfusions for excessive bleeding in May from an ulcer that postponed the bout. Yet, the Texas Department of Licensing and Regulation licenses him anyway? Texas regulators must have known about Tyson’s condition. He talked about it in ominous detail in a story published by New York Magazine before opening bell. Did Texas listen, decide he was exaggerating and license him anyway? If so, we’re fortunate we witnessed only an embarrassment.