By Jake Donovan

It's the same set of circumstances for the winner of any big fight. Being good enough to win just doesn't seem to be good enough for others. Before the victor has a chance to celebrate and embrace the moment, he's already confronted with the inevitable question: What's next?

Ricky Hatton was forced to immediately ponder the future following his four-round destruction of Jose Luis Castillo Saturday night in Las Vegas. It began with Max Kellerman, an agenda-driven fan disguised as a color commentator, asking not who Hatton will fight next, but whether or not he'd consider a follow-up to his one-and-done at welterweight, where the more lucrative matchups await. Jim Lampley's post-fight wrap-up was prefaced with the same line of thinking, as have been various reporters through their column space in the aftermath of last weekend's action.

While a "no comment" to an answer is generally regarded as a cop-out, Hatton's noncommittal approach to the question (save for a brief dig at Floyd Mayweather Jr.) was perfectly acceptable on this occasion. After all, he already tested the welterweight waters last year, and nearly drowned, narrowly escaping with a controversial unanimous decision while discovering that the weight class wasn't his cup of English Tea.

Answering no offers the perception that he's ducking the sport's biggest stars. Answering yes makes him a hypocrite, conveniently forgetting the aforementioned bout against Collazo. In addition to cementing his claim as the best junior welterweight on the planet, Hatton also proved himself to be one of the sport's better politicians.

While the name of the game (and any other sport these days) is ultimately about making money, plenty of fighters in the past often sought to carve out a legacy for themselves. Like Hatton, his 140 lb. predecessors had more lucrative options awaiting them had they added seven pounds to their frame. Instead, they stuck it out at junior welterweight, allowing the division to be identified by their reigns.

Antonio Cervantes' two reigns covered nearly eight years from 1972-1980, save for a fifteen-month period occupied by his one-time conqueror Wilfred Benitez. His championship run began with a fizzle, having dropped a decision to fellow longtime 140 lb. champ and Hall of Famer Nicolino Locche in 1971. Cervantes instead went the scenic route, beating the man (Alfonso Frazer) who beat the man in claiming his first world title, though eventually avenging his prior loss to Locche with a10th round stoppage a year later in his second title defense.

His first reign lasted 3 ½ years before running into Benitez, then a teenage phenom who would become the youngest fighter (17 years of age at the time) to capture a world title with a split decision win. Benitez would vacate the title in 1997 to pursue welterweight glory (and beyond); Cervantes stayed put and ruled the division for another three years before being upended by Aaron Pryor in 1980.

Cervantes would retire three years later, with each of his five post-title reign bouts having taken place at or just over the junior welterweight limit. He could've moved up at any time during his reigns to take on the likes of Jose Napoles, Pipino Cuevas, Carlos Palomino or even a rematch with Benitez. Instead, he stuck it out, and it was his 17 title defenses and 19-2 overall record in world title fights that earned him a spot in Canastota.

While the 1970's marked the Cervantes era, it was "Hawktime" for the junior welterweight division in the first half of the 1980's. The irony being, if Aaron Pryor had his way, his legacy would've been carved out at the welterweight division. Or it never would've begun at all.

An impeccable amateur career was capped with a win over future five-division titlist Thomas "The Hitman" Hearns and a spot as an alternate on the 1976 Olympic team before Pryor turned pro shortly after the Games. Having first made his mark as a two-fisted lightweight, "The Hawk" spread his wings and flew five pounds north to the 140 lb. division where Pryor pursued Cervantes. He got his shot in 1980, climbing off of the canvas to stop Cervantes in four rounds.

More lucrative bouts existed at welterweight during Pryor's reign, and he relentlessly pursued the biggest score in Sugar Ray Leonard. The talk around the water cooler was that Leonard wanted no part of Pryor as an amateur, and didn't seem to keen on tarnishing his golden boy image against the human windmill. Predictably, such a bout never materialized, but it didn't stop Pryor from making his mark on boxing history.

The most notable of his ten title defenses came in 1982, when he squared off against former three-division champion Alexis Arguello in an instant classic that would go on to be named the Fight of the Decade. Pryor did what so many before him were unable to: absorb enough Arguello right hands, and eventually take him out in the 14 th round.

The bout didn't come without controversy; the infamous "mixed water bottle" scandal came about after trainer Panama Lewis, himself a fountain of unethical practices, sent back a water bottle in the corner prior to the knockout round, instead demanding his assistant to give him "the one that I mixed." Pryor, ahead on two of the three scorecards but apparently beginning to run on empty, came off of his stool invigorated, riding a second wind and bombing out Arguello to defend his world title for the sixth time.

Pryor would defend his title four more time, including a far more dominant win over Arguello in their rematch ten months later, before temporarily retiring in 1985. His life began to spiral out of control, falling victim to drug addiction and often finding himself on the wrong side of the law. An ill-advised, though financially necessary, comeback came about in 1987, resulting in the first and only loss of his career when he was stopped in seven by fringe welterweight contender Bobby Joe Young.  

Pryor would win three subsequent tune-ups before being exiting in 1990 due to eye injuries that would earn him a permanent medical suspension. He entered the Hall of Fame in 1996. This despite having never faced any of the Fab Four, or Donald Curry, or Milton McCrory or any other worthy welterweight adversary. It was all on the strength of his reign of terror at 140 lb., with Cervantes and Arguello the only two immediately recognizable names.

Sometimes, being THAT good is good enough.

It was only fitting that such a difficult period of Pryor's already hard life came at a rare time where the junior welterweight division was in disarray. Roger Mayweather and Juan Coggi enjoyed reigns as alphabet titlists. Mayweather was the better known of the two, but neither were viewed as the true leader of the division desperately in need of one.

Enter Julio Cesar Chavez, whose 1989 win over Mayweather, his second in a span of four years (and 10 lbs.), began a seven year stay at the top, spanning two separate reigns. Neither reign came without controversy, nor did his reported undefeated record.

Chavez became the true leader of the division in 1990 after emerging victorious against Meldrick Taylor in a battle of undefeated superstars. It took a lot of patience, body punching, and eventually for the stars and moons to be properly aligned, for Chavez to prevail. The bout has been well-documented through the years, including a full segment on HBO's Legendary Nights, so need to fully recap. Chavez' miraculous, if slightly tainted, come-from-behind victory made him the man to beat at 140, and also catapulted him to the top of most pound-for-pound rankings when coupling the win with Mike Tyson's improbable fall against James "Buster" Douglas a month prior.

When Tyson was incarcerated in 1992, promoter Don King began to regularly showcase Chavez in PPV headliners to help bridge the gap, with his cards setting the standard for the PPV format to which many still seek today; four championship fights featuring the sport's best. His 1993 title defense against Greg Haugen was fought in front of the largest paid crowd in boxing history, with over 133,000 jam packed into Estadio Azteca in Mexico.

Chavez was also selected to headline the inaugural card at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas, Nevada, though oddly enough the bout would also signal the end of his first reign, when Frankie Randall became the first fighter to drop and eventually officially defeat the legendary Mexican, scoring a split decision to wrest the junior welterweight crown in January 1994, ending Chavez' unbeaten run at 89-0-1, though other sources cite an overturned disqualification loss earlier in his career.

Chavez' second reign began four months later and with controversy, as his rematch with Randall was cut short by an inadvertent clash of heads in the eighth round. Chavez shook his head no when asked if he wanted to continue, which forced the bout to come to a halt and go to the scorecards. The eighth round was scored even though it had not completed. That, along with the deduction from Randall's card, resulted in a split decision win and a second run atop the junior welterweight division, which lasted just over two years before bowing out to Oscar de la Hoya in a gory four-round affair cut short due to multiple facial cuts.

Chavez' reigns was hardly spectacular on its own merits; aside from Taylor and a virtual shutout of Hector Camacho in 1992, many of Chavez' successful defenses came against ordinary challengers or faded former champs moving up in weight. His biggest wins – versus Taylor and the rematch with Randall – were mired in controversy, as was first attempt at a welterweight crown when he fought to a controversial draw in his 1993 superfight with Pernell Whitaker in a bout nearly everyone believed should've went Whitaker's way.

It was his – or more specifically Don King's – ability to reinvent himself at 140 that ultimately left his mark with the fans, generating excitement no fewer than four times a year during the loss of one of the sport's most popular figures in Mike Tyson. Chavez will eventually go into the Hall of Fame as a three-division champion, but it was his junior welterweight reigns that turned Chavez from a Mexican superstar to an international legend.

History was, and perhaps will never quite as kind to Kostya Tszyu, whose second reign as a junior welterweight titlist was far more definitive than his first, though hardly without criticism.

A highly touted amateur with a record of 259-11 and a win over eventual US Olympian Vernon Forrest, Tszyu turned pro in 1992. He would first become a name to remember in 1995, tearing through brave but flawed titlist Jake Rodriguez, scoring what seemed like a bazillion knockdowns (five official) en route to a sixth round knockout and his first tour as a junior welterweight champion. Chavez was still regarded as the man to beat in the division, though with each defense Tszyu rapidly gained a reputation with each defense as the greatest threat to the top spot.

Rumors began circulating of a possible showdown between Tszyu and Oscar de la Hoya following the latter's 1996 win over Chavez. With both fighting under the Top Rank banner, Arum decided to showcase the two on a January 1997 card in hopes of further enticing such a matchup. The plan never made its way out of the gate; Tszyu's bout with Leonardo Mas ended in a controversial no-contest, while de la Hoya's successful points win over Miguel Angel Gonzalez would be announced a week later as his only junior welterweight defense, instead moving up to challenge for the welterweight crown.

Any remaining interest in a bout, one that would now require a move up in weight, complete disintegrated four months later when right-hand bomber Tszyu was beaten at his own game by resurging Vince Phillips. The loss created on of several areas of criticism, as Tszyu never actively pursued a rematch.

He instead traveled a different path, playing the alphabet game and beating opponents that would allow him to challenge for a different world title than the one he previously owned. The plan worked, as the Australian-based Russian scored four straight knockouts before challenging for a vacant world title against Miguel Angel Gonzalez. Much like his win over Rordriguez, Tszyu's second tour of duty as 140 lb. champ began with a bang, as he administered a savage beating before forcing a stoppage in the 10 th round. Three more knockouts would come before Tszyu was extended the distance for the first time in six years when Oktay Urkal gave a much better-than-expected performance in a close, but clear decision win for Kostya in their June 2001 bout.

The win paved the way for an undisputed showdown with Zab Judah in a bout that would provide the division with a definitive leader for the first time since de la Hoya's departure. Tszyu overcame a dominant Judah first round to land one of the more famous right hands in recent memory, catching Zab late in the second round. The knockdown left Zab dazed and confused, as he attempted to get up before doing a stutter step before revisiting the canvas while referee Jay Nady was still administering the mandatory eight count.

The bout was waved off, much to the dismay of Judah who went ballistic, first attempting to choke Nady before hurling a stool at him. The actions cost Judah a six-month suspension and a hefty fine. While he served his time-out, Tszyu embraced his role as consensus junior welterweight champion, though perhaps the most disputed undisputed reign in boxing history.

A decision win over Ben Tackie in May 2002 was followed by an unpopular choice of opponent when he opted for Jesse James Leija eight months later. Fans were clamoring for Tszyu to move up to welterweight, where Vernon Forrest was coming off of consecutive wins over Shane Mosley to rule the roost at 147. Tszyu was the last man to defeat Forrest, in their 1991 amateur bout, and spin doctors clamored for a rematch much as they pushed a similar agenda in Forrest's first bout with Mosley. But the bout was never meant to be; Tszyu stayed put, facing Leija in a homecoming in front of 30,000, while Forrest would suffer back to back losses against Ricardo Mayorga.

If Tszyu were to stay put, fans demanded it would be against a quality 140 lb fighter. Kostya obliged, even agreeing to vacate his WBC title rather than face unworthy mandatory Gianluca Branco. He pursued a bout with human highlight film Arturo Gatti, whose handlers would price their cash cow out of the fight, and ironically winding up fighting Branco for little more than a paper title.

Tszyu then checked in his pride at the door, giving into Sharmba Mitchell's trash talking in agreeing to a rematch. Only Mitchell would have to wait for nearly 1 ½ years to avenge his 2001 loss, as Tszyu postponed their rematch four times due to multiple injuries. Judgment day finally came in November 2004. For Sharmba, it became a painful lesson in "be careful what you wish for, you just might get it; Mitchell got the rematch, but also caught a severe ass-whipping, visiting the canvas four times in less than three rounds before the bout was mercifully waved off.

With Cory Spinks sitting atop the welterweight division through the end of 2004, very few were still demanding Tszyu move up. As the saying goes, winning cures many things, and Tszyu's dominant stoppage was just what the doctor ordered for a junior welterweight division, one whose participants seemed to stand in line and wait for Tszyu's return rather than face one another.

Such was the overwhelming criticism surrounding the pre-title version of Ricky Hatton, who often found himself in front of sold out arenas but against absolute no-hopers. The Mancunian finally made his way to the head of the class, securing a June 2005 bout against Tszyu, who in turn would earn far and away the greatest payday of his career in exchange for a 2AM local start time in Hatton's hometown. It could've been old age; it could've been not properly preparing his body for the time difference and late start. Or it just could've been that Hatton rises to the occasion and saves his best for the best. Whatever the case, Tszyu, while competitive throughout the contest, absorbed a beating bad enough to force him to surrender his crown on his stool after trainer Johnny Lewis opted against sending him out for the 12 th and final round.

Some say it's fitting that Tszyu's career ended on his stool, considering his underwhelming desire to never challenge himself outside of 140, or even in the face of adversity (allowing his losses to go unchecked). Others will point to his 19-2-1 record in world title fights, with all but three of his wins coming inside the distance, and insist that he was a man who gave the junior welterweight division a sense of stability, in an era where division jumping, often from fight-to-fight, seems to be the career path of choice.

Save for a brief jump up north, Hatton has remained the fixture atop the junior welterweight division. Only such status doesn't sit well with the boxing fraternity, who don't look at an undefeated record as a sign of perfection and dominance, but instead indicative of a protected fighter. It's not enough that Hatton proved to be a fish out of water at welterweight last year against Collazo; many are now insisting that rather than stick it out at an otherwise faceless junior welterweight division, he instead chase the money and the stars in a division outside of his comfort zone.

A simple enough counterpunch would be: how many of the aforementioned can literally bring their country into a foreign arena.

Sure Floyd Mayweather was victorious in the most lucrative bout in boxing history; but how many people show up when it's Floyd versus someone not named Oscar de la Hoya? See his bout with Carlos Baldomir for the answer. While you're their, compare the atmospheres between that bout and Hatton's fight with Castillo this past weekend. Floyd brags that Vegas is "my town", but why is it that Hatton is the one who brings the energy and excitement into arenas that otherwise provide dead atmosphere when Floyd's in the house?

How many people showed up for Shane Mosley's last fight? His bout with Luis Collazo was a far greater disappointment at the box-office than was Hatton's stateside debut against the same fighter a year prior. The problem with Mosley is, save for the two Fernando Vargas bouts in 2005, he's right back to where he used to be; big name on a resume, not so much at the box office.

The third time was a charm for Miguel Cotto this year at Madison Square Garden, finally proving that the second weekend of June in NYC is about more than the Puerto Rican Day parade. His 11 th round stoppage of Zab Judah was fought in front of a raucous crowd of 20,000, the majority on hand to support boricua pride, even in an arena a mere subway ride from Zab's old stomping grounds.

That was the good news. The bad news – the PPV turnout was than stellar (even if reported by Bob Arum as "profitable"), registering roughly 225,000 buys. The total was considerably less than the general core audience that seem to purchase every notable PPV card, a crowd that usually comes 100,000 or so deeper. That was the amount of people who purchased last year's event between Bernard Hopkins and Antonio Tarver, which directly went head-to-head with Cotto's own PPV bout against Paul Malignaggi. That bout generated roughly 90,000 buys.

While Cotto packed 'em in at the Garden, he has yet to prove to be a draw outside of Puerto Rico or New York, the latter boasting more Puerto Ricans than the island itself.

Ricky Hatton has parlayed his undefeated record to bi-continental superstardom, all while staking his claim as the one and only leader of the junior welterweight division. All of this without possessing a crowd-pleasing style, or a notable adversary within the division, or without finding instant success in a far more lucrative division.

Sometimes being that good is just good enough.