Jesus fuck man… I sure know how to pick ’em, right?
Less than 2 months ago, I pounded out a heartfelt article about Hozumi Hasegawa, a Kobe based Japanese boxer; and my unusual attachment to him.
Totally not gay, I swear.
Anyway, I’d never make it my business to say Hasegawa is an atypically skillful fighter, or even the best Japanese boxer; but fate led to me “choosing” him as a guy I’d keep my eye on, for better or for worse.
That being said, the past year or so has definitely been the worst year Hasegawa’s had in… well, his entire career.
Put it this way, up until April of last year; the guy hadn’t lost since 2001, had set a new Japanese record for consecutive title defenses, and was on a decent KO streak despite not having much of a punch.
He was on top of the world, only to have his reputation and legacy thrown in the shitter via a humiliating TKO loss to Fernando Montiel inside of 4 rounds.
Protip: Blocking with your face is not a sound tactic.
Given that I’ve already talked at great length about that whole fiasco, I think it’s best we move on; lest I lose my temper and start breakin’ shit.
Anyway, following the loss to Montiel, Hasegawa stepped up 2 weight classes to campaign at Featherweight against Juan Carlos Burgos.
Despite the added weight, Hasegawa looked good at 126; retaining most of his quickness and punch accuracy while pounding out a unanimous decision over a very game Burgos.
Which brings us to last night’s fight against Jhonny Gonzalez.
Jhonny Gonzalez is a very good, and more importantly; very tough fighter.
I suppose it’s also worth mentioning that Mr. Gonzalez is also quite heavy handed.
"Bubba beats, Bubba beats, Bubba beats, PEOPLE UP."
That being said, in a big night for Japanese champions, Hasegawa was the only one (Takahiro Ao and Toshiaki Nishioka also fought that night) that was unable to score a win.
While I have yet to sit down to watch the actual fights, from what I’ve read; it sounds like Hasegawa got put on queer street much in the same fashion that he did during his fight with Fernando Montiel.
That is to say, he did well in the opening rounds/minutes of the fight, only to guess wrong on a counter opportunity; and take exactly the wrong punch on the wrong part of his skull.
As I mentioned earlier, Hasegawa’s my boy; I’ll watch and read about his fights for as long as he has them, but even so, it’s no fun seeing your hero get flattened in such humiliating fashion.
Probably the worst part of Hasegawa’s 2 losses over the past year, is the fact that both came as a result of very sudden and highly variable circumstances.
Like I said, to my knowledge the guy was very much in the fight up until the moment he got KO’d, making it a case where it’s hard to say whether he lost as a result of being the lesser or fighter, or just ’cause he got caught by one good punch.
What really grinds my gears about this most recent loss though, is that I remember watching Toshiaki Nishioka beat the ever-loving fuck outta’ Jhonny Gonzalez just 2 years ago.
Does that mean Nishioka is just that much better than Hasegawa, that Gonzalez improved that much since then, or that Hasegawa might be on the downward spiral?
I don’t know, but it’s questions like that always make it hard to have heroes in the sport of boxing.
Trust me, I “chose”Miguel Cotto back when he first appeared on HBO; and look at all the drama he’s spawned over the past few years alone…
Ugh, hopefully I'll never have to see this again...
Pictured: Toshiaki Nishioka posing with Rafael Marquez.
Well folks, it’s that time again.
Tomorrow night, a Japanese boxer will once again challenge fate and attempt to defend their world title on American soil.
Said boxer is Toshiaki Nishioka, a hard-punching and tenacious veteran who will be defending his Super Bantamweight title against the equally powerful, but slighty shopworn Rafael Marquez.
It might not sound like a big deal to us here in the states, but to date, no Japanese fighter has ever succeeded in defending a legit world title on American soil.
The last champion to step up to the challenge, was former Jr. Featherweight champion Akifumi Shimoda, who if you’ll recall was knocked senseless in the 7th round via a left hook to the jaw from the challenger, and now champion; Rico Ramos.
Pictured: Shimoda, laid out after a monster left hook from Ramos.
Though it hurt to watch Shimoda lose in such dramatic fashion, but in my heart I knew it was to be expected.
I keep tabs on quite a few Japanese fighters, and in that sense I feel the fact that Shimoda was never one of them should speak to his abilities/promise as a fighter.
Besides, the man he won the title from, Ryo Li Lee; was perhaps the biggest underdog champs in recent memory, so in many ways it’s surprising that Teiken was willing to take the gamble in sending Shimoda to the states without a few more tune-up fights under his belt.
That being said, unlike Shimoda, I truly believe Toshiaki Nishioka is the real deal:
He was never as good as I hoped he would be, but I “picked” him, and wasn’t about to lose faith in him just because of a few losses.
A few REALLY BAD losses...
That’s just who I am.
While Nishioka may not be “my guy,” the fact of the matter is, he’s likely one of the best Japanese world champion boxers of his generation.
2 names always pop up in discussions involving the current state of Japanese boxing, namely that of Koki Kameda, and Toshiaki Nishioka.
While Kameda is easily the more popular fighter, especially among Japanese fans, in my mind I view the older and more accomplished Nishioka as the better and more complete fighter.
Kameda has immense potential, but I don’t see his no-jab, counter heavy-style sustaining him on the world stage for very long.
Plus, HE LOOKS LIKE A MONKEY. And he smells funny.
Like many Japanese boxers, Nishioka took a few losses early in his career, though this in no way prevented his career from being a consistent march upward in terms of quality of opposition.
Left-handed and atypically powerful and gutsy for a Japanese fighter, Nishioka’s only real sore spot in his career was in the early 2000’s when he fought the immensely prolific and longstanding Bantamweight champ, Veeraphol Sahaprom a mind-boggling 4 times in as many years.
During this series of fights, Nishioka lost to, and drew with Sahaprom 2 times, with each fight going the distance and being closely contested on the scorecards.
Fun fact:
Despite Nishioka’s 4 attempts to dethrone Sahaprom, it was my boy Hozumi Hasegawa who ultimately succeeded in 2004 via unanimous decision.
Not only that, Hasegawa KO’d Sahaprom in the rematch the following year, thereby cementing his reputation as a true Bantamweight champion.
Nishioka got a badass clip, so I figure it’s only fair I give one to my boy Hasegawa as well:
In fighting Sahaprom, I feel Nishioka came up short due to a clash of styles.
Nishioka isn’t the most elusive of fighters, making him easy prey for Sahaprom’s cagey tactics and seasoned boxing.
In this way, Hasegawa’s superior handspeed and constant lateral movement were likely responsible for his victories over Sahaprom.
Nishioka may not have Hasegawa’s speed or elusiveness, but he does have a solid chin, power in both hands, and the tenacity of a pit bull.
That counts for a lot when you’re a world class Southpaw with soild fundamentals.
At 35 years old, may not have many fights left in him, nor does his “on paper” reputation paint him as the best of fighters, but as of writing this, I truly believe him to be the best active boxer in Japan, and potentially in his weight class.
Despite his age, Nishioka hasn’t lost since 2004, and in the days since then, his career has blossomed in a renaissance of sorts, rewarding him with sound victories and highlight reel knockouts against solid competition.
He may not have been “my guy” in Hasegawa’s heyday, but now, when I’m forced to pick between him and the impetuous Koki Kameda, I think I’m finally ready to call Nishioka “my guy” in Japanese boxing.
Again, HE LOOKS LIKE A MONKEY.
I believed in him all those times he came this close to edging a victory against Sahaprom.
I believed in him when he finally won the title from Genaro Garcia.
I believed in him when he knocked the piss out of Jhonny Gonzalez.
And tomorrow night, when he faces another cagey veteran in the form of Rafael Marquez, I will believe in Toshiaki Nishioka all the same.
You see, I’ve been a fan of boxing ever since the first time I watched Rocky with my old man; but up until 2005, there were no active Asian, or more specifically; Japanese fighters that caught my interest as being noteworthy in the sport.
Sure, Toshiaki Nishioka and Daisuke Naito were, and are pretty good fighters; but nothing about them ever seemed competitive on the world stage I.E. the elite level of the sport.
The simple fact of the matter is that boxing simply isn’t all that popular in Japan, nor do I believe the Japanese physiology is all that well-suited for the sport in the first place.
We’re short, we’ve got stubby limbs, we’ve got a reputation for being pillow-fisted, and we have a tendency to grope/fondle others in public.
Pictured: How we say "hello."
Bullshit aside, a major factor in the stunted progress of Japanese boxing, is the simple fact that the country is an island nation.
Combine the insane travel arrangements required to put fights together on Japanese soil between a foreigner and a national, with the public’s general lack of interest in the sport; and you have an equation that results in Japanese fighters rarely having the opportunity to test their mettle against the world’s best, nor having the in-house competition available to them to prepare them for said contests.
Needless to say, most of what I read (I never got to see an Asian boxer on TV until Manny Pacquiao’sHBO debut) about Japanese fighters consisted of Ring Magazine articles about them getting flattened by Mexicans, or worse yet, beaten by their countrymen in boring 12 round jab-fests.
That all changed for me when I discovered the Kobe based bantamweight, Hozumi Hasegawa.
Not a handsome man by any standard, but a good fighter nonetheless...
Hasegawa first caught my attention when he dethroned long-reigning bantamweight champion, Veeraphol Sahaprom.
To put things in perspective, Sahaprom had held the bantamweight title since 1998, not to mention had fought Toshiaki Nishioka 4 times prior to this, drawing and decisioning Nishioka on every occasion.
While the man had the kind of bloated record that only Thai fighters can produce in this day and age, few could argue that Sahaprom was a stiff challenge to any bantamweight of the time.
Seriously though, only a Thai could be so audacious as to defend his world title against debuting fighters, or worse yet, 0-1 fighters; on multiple occasions no less.
Hasegawa’s victory over Sahaprom would serve as the first of many happy moments I would be proud to witness as a half-Japanese boxing fan.
Pictured: The face of a half-Japanese boxing fan. That's right, we do exist!
For the first time in my life, I had found a contemporary Japanese fighter that was not only winning consistently, but seemingly growing and improving with every bout.
The funny part was, aside from being left-handed, Hasegawa never really seemed all that different or special compared to other Japanese fighters.
For most of his career he was a defensive minded out-boxer with with quick yet economical hands, sharp straight punches, and a good eye for counter-punching.
He wasn’t a powerhouse, he wasn’t a physical specimen, he was just a good Japanese fighter that, for whatever reason; was on a helluva’ winning streak.
Following his victory over Sahaprom, Hasegawa would go on to win their rematch by TKO, as well as defend the bantamweight title more than any other Japanese fighter in history, all while amassing 7 KO’s, more than he had accrued in his entire career up until 2005.
Despite all of my apparent dick-sucking of Hasegawa, I feel it’s worth mentioning that there’s another little element to my hero worship of the man.
You see, way back when, my brother actually went to live in Kobe for a year.
While he was there, he joined a boxing gym headed by trainer Senrima Keitoku, the man who would one day go on to train Hozumi Hasegawa.
While it’s a loose connection at best, for whatever reason, it means something to me to know that the same goofy old Korean-Japanese that my brother told me used to cane fat kids in his gym, just happens to be same one that trained one of my personal sports heroes to world champion status.
Pictured: A pennant my brother back with him from Kobe.
Like I said, it’s hardly a connection, but to me it means something special.
Anyway, before I let things totally veer off into weird touchy/feely bullshit, I think it’s time we actually got down to addressing the subject heading of this post:
This is called a "filler" image. It bears no purpose other than breaking up the text in an eye-pleasing fashion.
Coming into the bout, the 2 men represented the top-tier of the division.
While a bantamweight tournament is currently being hosted by Showtime, a tournament which both Donaire and Montiel were invited to participate in; both opted out in favor of fighting each other due to the general belief being that they were “above” the majority of the other participants in the first place.
It was one helluva’ big deal, and a bout that I was very much anticipating.
On paper, both fighters were quick-fisted and fleet of foot, with Donaire having a slight edge in both categories, while Montiel held the more intangible advantages of caginess, fundamentals, and; arguably, tenacity.
Perhaps the most attractive aspect of the bout however, was the fact that both fighters were known to possess extraordinarily heavy hands for their weights.
Maybe not Carlos Zarate “heavy,” but heavy nonetheless.
Goofy 'stache or not, this man wrecked so many people's shit it wasn't even funny...
Despite all this, my interest in this bout came not as a result of their skill sets or attributes, but rather as a consequence of their previous in-ring achievements.
While Donaire had indeed caught my eye with with his revenge KO of his brother Glenn over Vic Darchinyan back in 2007, Montiel was the one that really got me invested in this match-up.
You see, Fernando Montiel actually fought Hozumi Hasegawa this past April.
While Hasegawa looked to be on the way to a comfortable points victory in the early goings, Montiel caught him on the point of the chin with a savage left hook.
Thoroughly knocked onto Queer Street, or rather; 2 blocks down the road onto the even queerer street that is “Queer Manor,” Hasegawa got hung up on the ropes and was brutalized for several seconds longer before the match was stopped, his titles were stripped from him, and his winning streak and reputation were sent down the shitter.
Despite how much I hate to watch it, here’s a clip:
Regardless of what Hasegawa’s gone on to accomplish, coming back to win a bout 2 weight classes North at featherweight and generally staying out of trouble; my heart sunk the day I saw the man utterly destroyed at the hands of Montiel.
While I would go on record saying I bore nothing but respect for Montiel, after all not that many Mexicans are willing to fly all the way out to Japan just to claim an alphabet title, I would be lying if I said I came into the Donaire/Montiel bout not hoping to see the man knocked silly.
Seriously, I wanted to see Montiel knocked the fuck out almost as much as I wanted to see Ricky Hatton get Pacquiao-ed in every fight he ever had.
Fortunately, tonight I had Nonito Donaire AKA “The Other Filipino” to sub in for tonight’s Pacquiao-ing of Montiel.
From the opening moments of the fight, it was quite clear that there was a palpable disparity in overall speed between Donaire and Montiel.
Both guys looked a little pensive, an expected consequence given both fighter’s punching power; however Montiel seemed almost too relaxed, holding his arms outstretched as if expecting to deflect the majority of the incoming punches.
Not exactly a sound tactic when the other guy is clearly the faster fighter.
Despite this, only about 2 punches of note were landed in the first round, a counter left hook to the chin, and a heavy body shot, both of which were landed, quite authoritatively I might add; by Donaire.
In 2nd (and final) round of the contest, Montiel rushed out the gate, landing a few decent shots here and there, and generally looking to set the pace of the fight.
Then, as if answering my prayers; Donaire flattened Montiel as I have seldom seem a fighter flattened.
Charging in and pressing the action, Montiel let loose with quick straight right hand, unaware of the monster left hook that Donaire had begun the process of uncorking just a millisecond earlier.
In short, Montiel landed his shot, and fairly cleanly at that; however in the process of doing so he overextended himself and quite literally ran chin-first into the sock full of quarters that is Nonito Donaire’s left fist.
Splayed out on the mat, eyes unseeing, and brain thoroughly checked at the front desk, Montiel rolled about like a turtle on it’s back, a very drunk and/or “special” turtle; for half of the referee’s count.
Like this, but on his back. And y'know, almost half-conscious.
Why the ref even bothered to count, or allowed Montiel to continue, even if it was only for a few seconds; is beyond me.
Despite my feelings leading up to the bout consisting of wanting to see Montiel punished, and my hero avenged; I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Fernando Montiel…
For about 2 minutes.
Seriously though, he’s a terrific fighter, that sadly doesn’t (and probably won’t) receive the press or fanfare that he likely deserves, but tonight, Nonito “The Master of the Revenge KO” Donaire was by far the better man.
Anyway, thus was the tale of the Azn Badger’s boxing hero, Hozumi Hasegawa; and his vengeance by proxy via the fists of Nonito Donaire.
Thanks for reading, I know it was long; but hopefully it was worth the trouble!
Boxing is just about the only professional sport I pay attention to.
That’s not to say I don’t enjoy watching sports, I simply haven’t devoted as much time to appreciating and learning the subtleties of them as I have in the case of boxing.
SUBTLETY.
The first time I can remember seeing boxing, was when I was really young, maybe 5 years old.
My parents were watching the end of Rocky III on TV, and I walked into the room (past my bedtime) thinking it was a real fight.
I remember yelling “Jesus!” every time Rocky got, um, clubbed; by Clubber Lang.
"JESUS!"
After 3-4 cries of “Jesus,” my mom ushered me out of the room and told me to go to bed, but not before telling me to say “jeez” instead of “Jesus.”
Now that I think of it, that was kind of weird.
I remember going to church every now and again as a kid, but my parents never enforced any sort of religion in the house.
Oh well, my best guess is that, at that point in my life my parents hadn’t yet decided if I was going to be raised with a religion, so they didn’t want me taking the Lord’s name in vain just in case.
To this day, I have yet to establish any religious affiliations.
Although I did spend some time in the Kamen Rider Kult for awhile... Does that count?
That awkwardness aside, Sylvester Stallone and Mr. T’s climactic brawl at the end of Rocky III served as my introduction to the sport of boxing.
That fight also ranks as one of my favorite in AMERICAN film history, so it’s gonna’ get posted below for your enjoyment:
I remember years later, during Mike Tyson’s big comeback in the mid-90’s, my brother and my dad would “watch” some of the scrambled Pay-Per-Views.
You see, this was back in the day when Pay-Per-Views came via a cable box, (which my home didn’t have until my brother started ordering WWF Pay-Per-Views) but the channels they aired on could still be accessed in “scrambled” format.
That’s right, my brother and my dad cared enough about boxing that they would plop down in front of the TV and watch a scrambled snowstorm just to get the live audio.
"Oh, LOOK at that crushing right hand from Arguello! Boy Jim, that sure LOOKED painful, didn't it!?"
It was around this time that I came to realize that boxing meant something to my family, primarily my dad.
My dad loves all sports, don’t get me wrong; but boxing has always seemed to have a special place in his heart.
When I was little, and would sometimes sit in and watch the fights with him, he’d always amaze me with his ability to predict the outcomes of fights.
I didn’t know it then, but it turns out my pop had done a bit of boxing in his youth.
Pictured: My Dad.
That’s not to say he was some retired legend of the ring or anything, but even so, he managed to do a few neat things during his time in the sport.
For instance, in his youth he competed in the Philadelphia Golden Gloves tournament, even going so far as to the reach the semi-finals.
He was eliminated by a young fighter named Willie “The Worm” Monroe, a man who would later go on to defeat middleweight legend, and easily one of my favorite fighters of all time; Marvelous Marvin Hagler.
Sum' bitch, beat mah' daddy...
Oh yeah, and get knocked the fuck out by Hagler a few years later.
Click below for vengeance by proxy:
During his time in the Vietnam War, my dad made his way over to Thailand once or twice.
While staying there, my dad was invited to participate in a friendly exhibition match with a local fighter.
Nobody told my dad who he was fighting before the match, but as it turns out, his opponent was Chartchai Chionoi.
The same Chartchai Chionoi that had been sitting on the world flyweight championship for a few years by the time my dad met him.
According to my dad, the fight really did play out as a friendly exhibition for the most part, with neither man getting hurt for the most part.
My dad always said he was just glad he on his feet the whole time and didn’t end up embarrassing himself.
He and Chartchai exchanged holiday cards every now and again for years after that.
According to my dad, Mr. Chionoi got kind of pudgy at one point, so my dad used to poke fun at him for it.
Pictured: Chartchai Chionoi in the twilight of his career.
It was my dad’s love for/knowledge of boxing that drew me into it.
I always wanted an excuse to hang out with my dad and shoot the shit, and boxing was the venue I chose to do it from.
I spent my youth listening to the little fundamental tidbits my dad would throw out during the fights, and by the time I was in high school, I felt I knew the sport pretty well.
That’s one of the major differences between boxing and other sports for me.
I get boxing.
I didn’t really pay much attention to other sports as a kid, and as a result, I don’t know them as well.
It makes a huge difference, knowing what you’re looking at, and knowing “how” to appreciate it.
Art....?
When he was in high school, my brother went to live in Kobe, Japan for a year.
During this time he took the time to join Senrima Keitoku’s boxing gym, the same trainer that would go on to train recently dethroned world bantamweight champion Hozumi Hasegawa.
In a bizarre twist of fate, Hasegawa is a Japanese boxer that is actually GOOD.
I don’t know the extent of my brother’s training in Japan, but I think he did it for the same reasons I wanted to:
To have something in common with dad, and to say that he “did it.”
These guys "did it" too.
Seeing as boxing was one of the few things I could really relate to my dad on, I was always envious of my brother for having that connection.
As fate would have it, I found myself faced with a school project that required one to join a community and do what is called “appreciative inquiry,” I.E. giving and taking while never really implying that you’re overtly “taking.”
Yeah, I know, hippie-dippy-gobbledy-gook at it’s best, right?
Because the project was sprung on us with little notice, I took it upon myself to take advantage my my newly in-shape self, and I joined the local Police Athletic League to try my hand at boxing and do my project at the same time.
I had a lot of fun at the gym, in fact I still miss it to this day, largely because of all the time I got to spend helping out the little kids.
Not in THAT way, you perv.
This way:
At the gym, I was surprised to find that I was more than able to keep up with the training regimen, however my eyesight was a huge problem.
Let it be known, that people that wear contact lenses or glasses should never, ever consider pursuing boxing as anything more than a workout.
Don’t be an idiot like I was, you’ll be better for it.
In sparring, I never told my coach that I was wearing disposable contacts that would come out after getting hit about, oh, once.
As a result, I was blind for most of my sparring sessions, though I did alright anyway.
Never got hurt, anyway.
On my last day in the gym, when my class and the project attached to it ended and I was forced to get back to my normal schedule, I got my ass torn up by a new arrival at the gym.
The guy was about 17 years old, 2 inches taller and 10 pounds heavier than me, and had a few years experience under his belt.
It's true, it's true. I did in fact fight Ivan Drago.
All I had going for me was a thick skull and ridiculously big hair.
Oh yeah, and I'm a FUCKING DOCTOR.
I got my face pounded in that night, and even though it was my last night there anyway, it truly felt like the world was telling me to get out of the ring.
Some of us are made to be fighters, some aren’t.
AREN'T.
I can’t say which I am, but I will say this, starting out in boxing at 21 years of age is not the way to find out.
I never got a chance to fight in a real match, however I was scheduled for one, which I made weight for and everything.
At 152 lbs., there were a lot of other fighters vying for the same spot as me on the card, so I ended up getting pushed aside in favor of more experienced guys.
That match will always be a big “what if” I’ll have in the back of my head, but such is life.
These days I play armchair quarterback with my dad.
I prefer to watch fights alone, or with my dad; rowdy crowds tend to make me nervous on account of how they sensationalize the fight.
Kind of like these guys.
I’ve always said that, in boxing, I never applaud violence, (unless I HATE the guy getting his ass torn up) I’m just there to see what happens.
It’s for this reason that I also prefer to watch fights after they’ve already happened.
I don’t really care about being surprised, I just like sitting back and evaluating, and learning from the situation.
Boxing is a sport that encourages it’s fans to review it’s long and colorful history.
I have spent most of my life doing this, and for that reason I guess I’ve been conditioned to know what is coming ahead of time.
Some would call my preference blasphemy, however in my eyes, boxing is something I “appreciate” more than I care about “being there” for.
I’m not sure if I should thank my dad for getting me into a dieing sport that no one really seems to talk about these days, (try finding a boxing magazine among all the gun, bodybuilding and MMA ones, I dare you) but I will say this:
I am thankful for my father and everything he’s taught me in life.
Sure, I can’t ride a bike, but I can tell you the names of probably 80% of boxing’s hall of famers.
Life skills, that’s what dad’s are for.
Thanks dad, here’s to sittin’ around watching the fights together for the rest of our days.
Pictured: Akifumi Shimoda smacks super-underdog champion Ryol Li Lee.
Before anyone jumps to any conclusions based on the heading of this post, let it be known; nobody actually died.
I merely used the phrase “bites the dust” because, well; frankly it sounds cool.
That being said, this past Saturday night, I was blessed with a rare opportunity to see a Japanese boxer fight on American soil in the form of Jr. featherweight champion Akifumi Shimoda’s title defense against amateur stand-out, Rico Ramos.
Said fight was staged on HBO, which in the boxing business basically translates to “the big leagues.”
That being said, I came into the fight hopeful, but fully aware of what to expect.
As detailed in some of my previous posts here, and here; Japanese boxer’s are not exactly a dominant force in the sport.
Well, except for maybe Piston Honda...
In most cases I have to go very much out of my way to dig up videos and records of Japanese fighters, largely because even the very best of them rarely get to a stage in their career where fighting outside of Japan is an option, let alone economically viable.
The fact of the matter is, Japan is a small island nation that isn’t exactly crazy about boxing; making it difficult for their fighters to grow beyond the competitive confines of their nation’s borders.
The last couple of fights that I can recall involving a Japanese fighter fighting in a high-profile match on foreign soil; had very mixed results.
On the one hand, long-standing (or should “sitting”) middleweight champ Felix Sturm tattooed the face of, and utterly annihilated the unproven Koji Sato.
Pictured: What happens when protected champions are fed unproven competition.
On the other, underdog Nobuhiro Ishida managed to beat the odds and inexplicably force a first round stoppage of up-and-coming Jr. middleweight beast, James Kirkland.
Pictured: What happens when a young fighter doesn't know how to react to a knockdown.
Oddly enough, both of these contests involved Japanese fighters from 154-160 lbs., the highest weights the national Japanese boxing commission stages fights at, and consequently some of the weaker divisions in terms of talent.
While Ishida’s win seemed like a fluke, given that Kirkland seemed very much clear-headed despite the multiple knockdowns; Sato’s loss was a forgone conclusion.
Both guys were low-rated, and obviously brought in as fodder for their opponents.
The only difference was, one pulled the upset, and the other may have had years taken off his life.
Now that I think of it, I think that’s why the fight from last Saturday night meant a little more to me than the others I mentioned:
Akifumi Shimoda went into the fight last Saturday night a legitimate, defending world champion.
While hardly a big deal to anyone outside the hardcore, it meant something to me to know that Shimoda was held in high enough regard that the people of Teiken Boxing Gym felt it wise to send him to America to defend his title.
Not only that, in winning the fight he would’ve made history as being the first Japanese champion to successfully defend his title.
In case you couldn’t tell from the way I phrased that last sentence, and indeed the heading of this post; Shimoda did not make history.
A Southpaw, Shimoda came into the fight sporting excellent footwork and a straight to the body with mean intentions.
To my surprise, Shimoda proceeded at a measured pace out the gate, cutting-off the ring and pressing the action.
He didn’t look great by any means, but he did more than enough to stymie Ramos and shut down his anemic offense.
All through the fight, I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of a small group of Japanese fans positioned behind Shimoda’s corner, shouting his name and waving a big white banner in support of their champion.
Like me, they were rallying behind the Japanese guy despite virtually everyone else in the New Jersey arena not giving 2-shits about who he was or where he came from.
Indeed, I felt myself wince at the sound of the ring announcer pronouncing the bout as a production of “Tai-Ken” Boxing Gym.
It’s “Teh-ee-ken,” asshole. Â Get it right.
Despite my better instincts telling me Shimoda was going to get knocked the fuck out like seemingly all of his countrymen do when fighting away from home; I found myself feeling in the later rounds that Shimoda might actually get the win.
Then came the 7th round.
Early in the fight, Shimoda slammed Ramos with a nasty headbutt that opened a gash over the challenger’s eye.
The cut was pretty bad, and as such; Ramos’ trainer urged him to step up his efforts and throw more punches.
It took a few rounds of nagging from his corner, but for whatever reason; Ramos came out to fight in the 7th.
All through the round, you could tell something was different.
Mostly defensive and counter-oriented, Ramos lost the majority of the rounds in the fight purely based on his sinfully low punch output.
In the 7th, Ramos poured it on and went on the attack.
From the opening few seconds of the round, Shimoda went from being an indefatigable and confident young champion; to a fighter on the run.
Ramos backed Shimoda up for much of the round, something he hadn’t done for 1 second in any of the earlier portions of the fight; and indeed, seemingly couldn’t miss with his right hand.
Gassed or hurt, or maybe both; Shimoda spent his last moments in the fight stumbling backwards, seemingly without any answers to his opponent’s assault.
Stepping back and around the left side of Ramos amid a torrent of punches, Shimoda walked right into a cracking left hook that sent his jaw from one corner of the ring to the other.
BOOSH.
Oh yeah, and he went down too.
Splayed out on the mat, utterly devoid of consciousness, Shimoda’s last act before the referee’s stoppage was to clumsily, and pathetically rise to his knees and face first onto the mat.
In watching that 7th round, you got the sense that, had Ramos asserted himself earlier in the fight, there’s a good chance he would’ve walked right over Shimoda.
While there was no clear disparity between the 2 fighters in terms of technical ability, the difference in guts and raw athletic power seemed fairly evident during the final round.
It saddened me to see Shimoda lose his title, knowing full well that he; nor likely any other Teiken fighter would likely be making their way over to the states any time soon.
At this point it seems Toshiaki Nishioka and Koki Kameda may be the only 2 Japanese boxers that stand any chance of competing on the world stage.
Personally, I fail to see the beauty of Kameda and his brother Daiki’s collective souls, so here’s hoping Nishioka makes his way over here someday.
Hopefully he’ll fair better than most Japanese fighters seem to.
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