By Ryan Songalia

Conventional wisdom says that a good young fighter will beat a good old fighter. Of recent vintage, Marcus Beyer found himself overmatched by the fresher Mikkel Kessler when they partially unified the super middleweight division in 2006. While few would argue that he landed many effective punches, Jermain Taylor's overall energy level was enough to best Bernard Hopkins over two fights. The Larry Holmes of 1988 had very little to offer a voracious, motivated Mike Tyson, who tore through through Holmes like no one previous or since has. Youth has it's advantages in this, a rough and physical sport.

Then again, there is something to be said for life experience. Through trial and error, heartbreaks and failures, one learns to adjust in times of dire straits and evolves into sturdier character.

Remote instances, like George Foreman's unlikely KO of Michael Moorer, a man twenty-years his junior, is the standard by which older fighters facing younger fighters are held to. Archie Moore was able to excel in the later rounds against Yvon Durelle, the terrain that is supposed to favor the younger fighter.

Yet even in his maturity, Nate Campbell retained a young man's vanity. He refers to himself as "The Hottest Grandpa in America," referencing young Janaiyah, his first granddaughter. Not that Campbell is ancient, having turned 36 the day before he challenged Juan Diaz for the unified lightweight championship. It just seemed unfathomable for small fighters to overcome twelve years of an age disadvantage.

While most experts leaned towards a big night for "The Baby Bull", Campbell's self-belief never waned. So confident was the Jacksonville native that he placed a $50,000 wager on himself to win the fight, a risky move at an age when money is paramount to a fighter. He described the bet as "stress-free".

"We saw a lot of hype with Juan Diaz," said Campbell after the fight, "but we didn’t see the substance. I said I was going to take him out into the deep water and drown him and that’s what I did."

Indeed, anyone who would hear out the loquacious Campbell was indoctrinated with his self-assured predictions that in hind-sight border on prescience. He made no secret of his plans, that he would attack Diaz's midsection, that he would stand in the pocket and bang with the incumbent, that he would try and take the heart of one of the fiercest young fighters in the sport.

Fights are fought in the ring, however. And when the bell rang in the Cancun bullring, a war quickly broke out. Juan Diaz was met in the middle of the ring by Campbell, whom most expected to box and pick his shots. Immediately, Campbell began a concerted effort downstairs, just as he promised he would do, that continued to pay dividends as the fight wore on.

The first omen of catastrophe occurred midway through that opening stanza, when a clash of heads produced a bad cut that would prove to be of consequence as the fight progressed. For the first five rounds, it was a give and take war that left many a fan excited at the underdog's prospects for the upset.

Then the reigning champion began to give, taking sustained unanswered punishment for the first time in his young career. The turning point came following a bogus point deduction, in which an unknown referee ruled incorrectly that a butt had worsened the cut for Diaz. Replays point to a left hook as the catalyst for the increased blood flow.

Just as Archie Moore had done with the rugged Durelle that cold night in Montreal, Campbell stepped on the pedal with a younger fighter who hadn't yet had his heart broken. Most poetic was the moment following the tenth round, when Diaz failed to answer the bell for almost ten seconds, appearing as if his corner was pulling Diaz out of the fight. There, in the middle of the ring, stood Campbell raising his arms gloating his success at a discouraged and faltering fighter enduring adversity for the first time in his career. The center of the ring always belongs to the champion.

The law student from Houston did not travel to his country of decent to quit on his stool. Diaz gamely fought on, firing back when he could and searching for respite when he couldn't. He made it to the final bell with a closed, bleeding left eye, even managing a final flurry at the bell as a concluding statement.

There was little enthusiasm from the Mexican crowd when both fighters lowered their guard awaiting their fates. One drama still remained: Could Campbell get a decision over a Mexican-American fighter in Cancun? The first judge, Rico Bays, didn't think so. That tally was overruled by the other two scorers, awarding Campbell with his long-sought world championship.

And long-sought redemption, along with the hardware. As Campbell toiled between 130 and 135 pounds, not even decisive victories over Ricky Quiles and Almazbek Raiymkulov could dim the memory of his first stoppage loss, a foolish incident in which Campbell presented a free shot to Robbie Peden, who followed up by starching Campbell. It's been four years since that incident, four years of trying to separate himself from the embarrassment of the ultimate un-professionalism. It's a situation that must have been difficult for Campbell to live down, but is eased through the vindication of glory.

Campbell was Julio Diaz's mandatory challenger but saw his chances slide as an all Diaz unification left him on the outs and clustered in an ugly political situation involving interim titles and lawsuits. With all that in the rear-view mirror in the meantime, Campbell awaits the winner of Michael Katsidis-Joel Casamayor on March 22 as the next logical challenger in the division.

As for the wager? The bold move netted Campbell an estimated $170-210 thousand dollars to supplement his purse. The favorable odds Campbell found with bookies illustrates the public's skepticism of his chances in the fight. In the end, it made success that much sweeter.

Haye's Fireworks Easy on the Eyes

Usually when Showtime and HBO schedule cards for the same night, it's the fans who ultimately suffer. When there is an all-action, fast-pace slugfest going on, switching back and forth between channels can be the difference between catching the knockout punch and missing it. Fortunately, it was David Haye and Enzo Maccarinelli who were competing against HBO's Peter-Maskaev/Diaz-Campbell card. What was even better is that the telecast began a half hour earlier, at 9PM EST, than HBO's card, budgeting in enough time to cash in on both fighter's early round knockout predictions.

What was supposed to be the Patterson-Johannson of the cruiserweight division became a coronation ceremony for the Ring Magazine champion. A television friendly right hand and a brutal succession of punches left Maccarinelli senseless, while a shocked referee took longer than necessary to decide whether to call off the fight or not.

With all relevant business tended to at 200 pounds, Haye looks toward heavyweight and it's lack of a weight restriction. The primary concerns of Haye at the unlimited division rest in his beard. He's been down on several occasions as a cruiserweight and is believed to have an Achilles' Heel in his chin. At heavyweight, a fighter's punch resistance is less significant than it is at lighter weights. If a man weighing 220 pounds hits you squarely, chances are you're going to feel it anyways.

Where Haye's greatest obstacle lies is in weight. His only heavyweight appearance came last April, a first round KO where he weighed 217 pounds. He showed that he will bring pop and energy to the division, but 217 seems too small when juxtaposed with Wladimir Klitschko and Sam Peter, both who routinely weigh in at 240+. It's an uphill battle for Haye, but a marketable personality and fighting style will afford "The Hayemaker" every available opportunity to succeed in the division. Who knows, the best Haye may be on the horizon.

HBO Gets the Score Right on Alphabelts

When Emanuel Steward referred to Sam Peter as a heavyweight "champion", Jim Lampley interceded and redirected Steward, pointing out that Peter's strap made him a "title-holder" and not a champion. Common sense at work really, since there can only be one king to a kingdom.

Personally, I don't condone of the throwing about of terms like champion. If a fighter is a champion, that is because he has separated himself from his worthy challengers as being clearly superior. To have other "champions" among a champion is to demean the value of the champion reaching his status in the first place.

It's about time the networks stepped up and stopped lending legitimacy to what are essentially business transactions inside the ropes. Sam Peter has a title belt, congratulations to him. There is only one heavyweight champion, though, and he happens to be the only man to have beaten Peter. His name is Wladimir Klitschko.

Alphabelts are a part of professional boxing. With the way the sport is structured, there doesn't seem to be a practical way to rid the sport of these organizations. While they can't be ignored, they can be useful by highlighting the noteworthy fighters in the divisions. They are an evil that must be tolerated, but not taken out of proportion. Putting the alphabet groups where they belong will marginalize what they detract from boxing as a sport.

Any questions or comments? Send them to me at mc_rson@yahoo.com