By Michael Katz

“Down the stretch they come….” Dave Johnson’s signature horse racing call does not usually apply to boxing, where the final stages are more painful than thrilling. Archie Moore, Jersey Joe Walcott, George Foreman and Bernard Hopkins are exceptions to the rule that fighters have, as the Racing Form would say, “no late foot.”

It’s not only age. Getting hit in the head, in combat and during long hours in the gym, is not conducive to longevity. Even the best – as my updated pound-for-pound list will show later this opus – sooner or later show wear and tear of a hazardous profession. Goodbye Marco Antonio Barrera and Erik Morales. It happens in horse racing, too.   

That doesn’t stop them, of course, and if matched against similar old nags, might even supply some entertainment for the blood-thirsty among us. See Ricardo Mayorga-Fernando Vargas, the upcoming match between Roy Jones Jr. and Felix Trinidad Jr., which demonstrates how even Juniors can be seniors, and the preposterous talk of Mike Tyson facing Evander Holyfield again, perhaps on a Florida shuffleboard court. The withering of reflexes and hand speed could have disastrous effects, but if the erosion of skills is the same on both sides, what remains are the competitive hearts, the reason these guys were champions in the first place. 

It is both sad and laughable. They shoot horses, but the great ones don’t have to hobble down the stretch on three legs. Oh, they would, giving it their all, putting their fragile fetlocks in peril. They are bred to run. And despite the oft-correct cynicism that says boxers stay past their time because of financial needs, in some cases money isn’t everything. Pride can be as stubborn as poverty. Roy Jones and Felix Trinidad are not fighting Jan. 19 for filthy lucre. They refuse to believe what has become obvious to all.

If you could bring Secretariat and Man o’War back from heavenly equine pastures for a match race, you could bet all day that both ghosts would be pounding down the stretch, although a hell of a lot slower. It’s the same with Jones and Trinidad. They ain’t what they used to be, but this is a cynical matchup. Jones turns 39 three days before the Madison Square Garden engagement; Trinidad turns 35 this week. Jones hasn’t won a meaningful bout since getting a majority decision over Antonio Tarver in 2003; Trinidad hasn’t beaten anyone to write home about since taking one of the middleweight title belts from William Joppy in 2001. There are ringside tickets going for $15,000. I’m going to resist the temptation of buying a few dozen and accept the $50 pay-per-view gouging instead for this old-timers day game.  

They used to be the best, pound-for-pound, and they were on a collision course in 2001. Trinidad had successfully moved from welterweight to junior middleweight and was only Bernard Hopkins away at middleweight from going after Jones at light-heavy. Too much  blood, sweat and tears have gone under the bridge for this fight to mean much now, except an excuse for Don King to charge $50 to the curious suckers, like me.

Back when it would have mattered, this was a mismatch. Jones was too big, too fast, too good. Deprived of the big payday, Jones put both hands behind his back to knock out the Australian Glen Kelly, then stopped Clinton Woods in 2002 and moved up to challenge John Ruiz for a heavyweight “title.” He played with Ruiz, beginning a streak of seven fights in which he has not scored a knockout. Included were three straight losses, two by KO, to Tarver and to Glenn Johnson. He says now he weakened himself  by going back to 175 pounds from heavyweight, taking off muscle. Now he’s got to make a contractual weight of 170.

He has had two fights since losing a second time to Tarver, but he never resembled the brilliant athlete who was the game’s best back in the mid-Nineties. He’s fooling himself if he thinks weight had anything to do with the last line of defense. Don King has dubbed him “Superman” – “more powerful than a locomotive, faster than a speeding bullet, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.” The promoter did not mention anything about Jones having Jimmy Olson’s chin.

Back when it would have mattered, Jones’s current prediction of Trinidad going in four rounds or less would not be worthy of comment. Of course. Now, here comes Trinidad, last seen going into a second retirement after an embarrassing shutout to Winky Wright three years ago. He was never sturdy on his feet as a welterweight; he got knocked down, but he got up and took care of business. He was like creeping death, stoically moving forward to land his big shots. You know what? He has a puncher’s chance, especially with Jones’s suspect jaw. Jones is the big favorite – you’re got to lay $3.25 to win $1 last time I looked. That would have been a steal, back when it would have mattered.

Now, who knows? “Down the stretch they come,” two three-legged horses. Which one has more left? I’m almost tempted to take Trinidad, betting $1 to win $2.50 (and that’s probably all anyone should risk on this exhibition).

Back when it would have mattered, Jones was always late to press conferences and media telephone hookups. He was punctual this week, as if the Frank Graham line about Bob Meusel (anyone remember the ’27 Yankees) applied to him, too: “He’s learning to say hello when he should be saying goodbye.” This is a guy who worried out loud about the dangers of the game. The devastating injuries to Gerald McClellan, an old amateur acquaintance, were never far from his thoughts. Now he is fighting in the New Year’s first pay-per-view event less than three weeks after the first fatality of 2008 – Yo-Sam Choi’s death in South Korea. Yet, Jones insists he is having a good time, even after a three-month training camp south of Pittsburgh.

Jones, who acknowledged that he probably wouldn’t be fighting still if he had not lost those bouts to Tarver and Glen Johnson in 2004, said there were more fights on the say if he beats Trinidad. “I don’t know when I’m going to leave,” he said.

He said he wouldn’t mind fighting the winner of Holyfield-Tyson III.

PENTHOUSE: The family of Yo-Sam Choi, the former flyweight titlist, who pulled the plug on the brain-dead fighter and then donated his heart, liver, both kidneys and both corneas….Choi, by the way, won his last fight, outpointing Heri Amol, which should remind us that the blatant mismatches of prospect-vs.-fodder are not as dangerous as competitive bouts.

Also, congratulations to one of my favorite boxing writers, the New York Times’s hardy perennial, Dave Anderson, who was inducted into the International Hall of Fame. Saint David, as I call him, is simply one of the most decent, hard-working and great journalists I have ever had the privilege of working alongside. He doesn’t do enough boxing these days for my taste, but back when it mattered, there was none better than the Pulitzer-winning columnist.

Let’s thank Showtime for picking up the March 8 cruiserweight bout in London between titlists David Haye and Enzo Maccarinelli. Wish they could televise it live, as well as delayed, so it doesn’t interfere with the mandatory watch of the evening, HBO’s showing of Oleg Maskaev’s defense vs. Samuel Peter, plus Juan Diaz facing Nate Campbell.

OUTHOUSE: One of my many old bosses, Greg Leon, has crossed the line – he is not only the publisher of a boxing website but, in a striking case of conflict of interest (and remember where you heard it first) has formed something called the G. Leon Advisory Group and is signing up fighters (what advice he can possibly give Derrick Gainer at this stage of Smoke’s career other than punt?). It seems every time a signing is announced there is a “disclaimer” put at the end of the item that Leon is the site’s publisher. Anyone with an imagination can see how wrong, wrong, wrong this is – choose a side, Greg, and stay there. Next thing you know, he’ll say he’s the poor (he said he couldn’t afford me any longer when we parted ways) man’s Oscar de la Hoya: boxing promoter and publisher of Ring magazine….Happy New Year, Bob Arum, who makes his first visit to the toilet for his continual exploitation of fight fans by suggesting John Duddy be next for Top Rank’s middleweight stalwart, Kelly Pavlik, after the champion takes care of business again, as favored, against Jermain Taylor. Just when top guys are fighting top guys, Arum comes along to make money the easy way. No wonder the game went downhill on his watch (and Don King’s). Next, if Manny Pacquiao, as favored, gets past Juan Manuel Marquez, he wants the No. 2 pound-for-pounder to face the ordinary, but tough, David Diaz, instead of the real lightweight ruler, Juan Diaz.

Hey, Greg Leon gets in twice in the same column for that “exclusive” that Tyson, 41, wants to fight Holyfield, 44, again. Hasn’t bitten an ear since 1997. Holyfield has said repeatedly that unless Tyson comes with a title (or a lot of money), he’s not interested.

HERE WE GO AGAIN: It is always a pleasure to infuriate Dear Reader with my occasional ratings of boxing’s best, pound for pound. Remember, this is based on the absurd premise that all fighters weight the same. Obviously, a very talented junior flyweight, like Ivan Calderon, would have trouble against most heavyweights, although he could probably entice Foul Pole Golota to hit him low and win by disqualification.

Marco Antonio Barrera and Erik Morales, who hopefully will not come out of their fresh retirements to fight each other a fourth time, are not the only missing P4Pers who went out in 2007. Most notably, Jose Luis Castillo and Joel Casamayor showed their age and Jorge Arce displayed his defensive deficiencies.

Since I already gave you Pacquiao at No. 2, obviously No. 1 is Floyd Mayweather Jr., although it is beginning to dawn on me the “Pretty” in Pretty Boy may be short for Pretentious. His persona notwithstanding, Mayweather is clearly the pick of the litter and he showed it convincingly last month against Ricky Hatton. Never mind Hatton was spotting Mayweather size. It’s always a pleasure to watch Pretty Boy duck, roll and counter, bury his chin in his shoulder, and then rapidly switch to offense. Hatton brought out the best in him; I expect sooner or later, so will Miguel Cotto. Mayweather, who now answers to “Money,” is also a shrewd businessman. He has feinted toward Mixed Martial Arts, but I believe he will take a vacation in the hopes that Cotto can build up the payday by beating one or of the many other legitimate welterweight contenders.

If Hatton made Mayweather look like $20 million, Cotto should do even more – he has quicker hands than the Englishman, but his foot speed could be his undoing in what will be a fascinating match.

Pacquiao didn’t climb any formidable mountains in 2007, but he is set to renew acquaintances with Juan Manuel Marquez in March – and Marquez is No. 3, just edging Joe Calzaghe, who unfortunately waited until his dotage to start showing the rest of the world just how good he is.

At No. 5, after a brilliant year in which he stopped Zab Judah and outboxed Sugar Shane Mosley, Cotto has become the compelling competition for Mayweather. Continuing the trend for the best to face the best, we next have Israel Vazquez and Rafael Marquez at, respectively, 6 and 7, after two hellacious fights last year. Their rubber match is set for March.

Ol’ Man Hopkins is still No. 8. He may be slowing down, but he was still able to wear down Winky Wright in his only 2007 appearance and now, possibly in April, he could be going after Calzaghe. All these head-to-heads of course may not be beneficial to the heads involved, but they have woken the game from the near-dead.

He hasn’t won in a while, but I still think the Winkster’s past efforts grant him a place at No. 9. My top ten is rounded out by one of my favorites, the little left-hander who hits about as hard as a Munchkin, Ivan Calderon. The undefeated Calderon finally moved out of the straw-weight class all the way up to junior fly – a three-pound difference – and beat the top guy there, Hugo Cazares. At 32, Calderon is beginning to lose a step, especially after seven or eight rounds of his dazzling footwork, so I want to give the best technician outside Mayweather at least one shot in the top ten.

Mosley gave Cotto enough of a scare – about the eighth round, I half-expected the 35-year-old former lightweight king to knock out the powerful undefeated Puerto Rican idol – to warrant starting off the next ten. Pavlik, the new middleweight king who came back from nearly getting knocked cold in the second round to dethrone Jermain Taylor in the eighth, is next at 12, followed by the lord of the superflies, Cristan Mijares.

Joan Guzman, who would be a tough out for either Pacquiao or Juan Manuel Marquez at 130 pounds, is 14th, followed by Taylor, who in losing to Pavlik at least demonstrated his power hasn’t completely disappeared (or, perhaps Pavlik might be soft in the chin, after all, he was almost knocked out by a guy who could not dent Hopkins and Wright, but also smaller guys like Cory Spinks and Kassim Ouma).

Winning isn’t everything. Mikkel Kessler moves up to No. 16 with a clear loss to Calzaghe. The Dane proved he belongs in the elite. Jorge Linares, who may be much higher very soon, breaks in at 17. Something new, something old – the Venezuelan featherweight is followed by Oscar de la Hoya.

At 19 is another superfly, Alexander Munoz, followed by the bright young kid on the light-heavyweight block, Bad Chad Dawson.

Martin Castillo, who faces Montiel on the same card with Pavlik-Taylor II next month, is at 21. Paul Williams, who edged Antonio Margarito to win a welterweight belt in 2007, catches 22. Chris John, who owns a disputed title decision over Juan Manuel Marquez, is next, followed by two other little guys, Nonito Donaire and Hugo Cazares. Every year, it seems, they prove the bigger they are, the less likely to make this list.

BROOKLYN LEFT THE HOUSE: About the seventh round, there was Lou DaBully squirming in his ringside seat and, watching on TV, I was wondering what color were his shorts. DaBully’s junior welterweight titlist, Paulie Malignaggi, was in deep trouble against the 6-1 underdog. Malignaggi got the verdict, but it was a pyrrhic victory because he boxed himself out of a possible showdown with Ricky Hatton. The kid from Bensonhurst, who punches almost as hard as my old Aunt Bernice, showed a disturbing lack of defensive ability against Herman Ngoudjo of the Cameroon and Canada. I had the challenger winning by a point off television, but it could have been by as many as two, either way. The way Malignaggi got hit with lead right hands should end any talk of him being like Willie Pep….Happy birthday, George Kimball.