By Jake Donovan

Boxing is once again undergoing a movement, with many at the top in search of more action fights and less chess matches. Last weekend’s HBO doubleheader was offered as Exhibit A for those looking to do away with fights showing any semblance of defense.

One week later, people are still raving over Kelly Pavlik’s seven round war with Edison “Pantera” Miranda, and more specifically the manner in which he sought victory. One week later, people are still fuming over the lack of action in Jermain Taylor’s middleweight title defense over Cory Spinks.

What people aren’t still debating is perhaps the part of the weekend that most warrants further discussion: the suspect scoring. A wide disparity in scorecards resulted in Taylor obtaining his title by split decision, denying Spinks a world title in a third weight class.

That the one-time junior welterweight prospect was even sharing a ring with the undefeated world middleweight champion was a story within itself. Boxing has become less and less about the sweet science, and more about who is willing to take the greater risk.

Spinks stepped up big time on the latter when, after two fights and less than one year spent at 154 lb., the pride of St. Louis, MO agreed to move up to middleweight and face Taylor on relatively short notice.

Accepting great challenges is nothing new to Spinks. Nor is dealing with the growing criticism that his style is not befitting of televised showcases. The latter perception often overshadows the fact that Cory is one of the few in the game always willing to take on anyone, any place and any time.

It is conveniently forgotten that it was Spinks who was originally scheduled to face Floyd Mayweather last November. Convenient in that news of such a fight was met with immediate outcry that Mayweather was leaving unfinished business at welterweight, where Carlos Baldomir emerged as the undisputed champion and Antonio Margarito remained a top threat.

Nobody seemed to care that Spinks was arguably the world’s top junior middleweight. He earned such distinction last July by beating the man (Roman Karmazin) who one year prior decisively beat the man (Kassim Ouma) many regarded as the division’s best. It’s a simple formula in every other weight class – beat the man to become the man.

Oscar de la Hoya wasn’t the man, not by beating Ricardo Mayorga, whose only claim as a player in the division came in his win over Michele Piccirillo, who was decisively handled by Cory two years prior.

Shane Mosley’s pair of wins over Fernando Vargas sound impressive on the surface, but not so much after you realize that Vargas’ days as a major player at 154 lb. came and went long ago.

At best, Ouma’s comeback trail – including wins over Sechew Powell and Marco Antonio Rubio – place him near the top, but certainly not higher than the man who beat the man who knocked him off of his perch.

But such logic is not what mattered to most in the media, many of whom accused Mayweather of cherry-picking his way to a title in a fifth weight class. Everyone got their wish less than a week later, when the never-officially signed bout was called off and replaced with Mayweather challenging for Baldomir’s welterweight title.

Everyone got the fight they demanded, though Floyd and Carlos ultimately provided a night to forget with their twelve-round waltz. Floyd dominated but settled for a safety-first shutout against a haplessly overmatched Baldomir.

Be careful what you wish for.

All Spinks wished for was another chance at the big time, that the fame match his natural boxing talents. Instead, more doors slammed in his face.

The criticism of all things Cory related began in December 2003. He entered his undisputed welterweight unification bout with Ricardo Mayorga as a 3-1 underdog, but instead gave the crude Nicaraguan brawler a thorough boxing lesson in taking a majority decision and universal recognition as the welterweight king.

What he didn’t obtain was the fame and glory that was supposed to accompany such an accomplishment. A lot was at stake for Mayorga going into the bout. Having twice bested Vernon Forrest earlier in the year, Mayorga was one fight away from sewing up 2003 Fighter of the Year honors. A win would also pave the way for a March 2004 super fight with junior middleweight king Sugar Shane Mosley.

All of that went out the window the moment Cory’s hand was raised. Only there was no demand for Spinks to step in and take on Mosley, who would instead pursue a fight with a comebacking Felix “Tito” Trinidad. Shane foolishly decided to first take on Winky Wright, and like Mayorga, received a boxing lesson and a big fight L in a fight that was intended as a showcase for a bigger fight.

Further kicking sand in Cory’s face, it was Mayorga who would wind up with the multi-million dollar payday that came with distinction as comeback opponent of choice for Trinidad.

Spinks was instead left to fend for himself in terms of further pleading his case as one of the sport’s best. Only very few wanted to hear it.

His first scheduled defense, against Zab Judah, was met with far more skepticism than anticipation. Very few believed a battle between two slick southpaws, one a pure boxer, the other a boxer-puncher devoid of focus, could produce the necessary fireworks to satisfy what has become an ADD-riddled boxing audience. Instead, both stepped up, Cory early, Zab midway through, and the two trading knockdowns late in the fight to cap what would become one of the better fights of 2004.

Spinks barely emerged, surviving a knockdown in the last 30 seconds of the fight to escape with a majority decision. But it wasn’t enough to satisfy the critics, who instead bashed Spinks for nearly getting stopped against a former junior welterweight. Ten months later, Judah would finish what he started, scoring an upset 9th round TKO in Spinks’ backyard in front of 22,000 St. Lunatics on a night where his extended ring entrance, accompanied by rapper and fellow hometown superstar Nelly, far overshadowed his in-the-ring performance.

Finally, the boxing world rid itself of Spinks, many thought. Cory certainly didn’t have opportunity waiting at his doorstep afterward. A temporary split from longtime promoter Don King led to a new one, Bobby Bostick. What it didn’t lead to was an actual fight, as Spinks spent the rest of the year and a good portion of 2006 on the sidelines.

He managed to break free from his contract with Bostick and returned home, both figuratively and literally. Reuniting with King, Spinks’ first fight in seventeen months came at the same venue as his last one – the Savvies Center in his hometown of St. Louis. This time, it was Yung Jock leading Cory into the ring, who entered a fight as the challenger for the first time in three years. His task at hand; dethroning Roman Karmazin, who had emerged as the top junior middleweight with his lopsided win over Ouma a year prior.

Spinks delivered, offering a boxing lesson for the first seven rounds before hanging on down the stretch to eke out a majority decision and a portion of the junior middleweight title. The victory was an overwhelming experience for Spinks, who was reduced to tears upon the official announcement of his becoming a world champion in a second weight class. Tears swelled up among onlookers as well, only their crying was in the form of whining that Spinks was too much boxer, not enough warrior.

Showtime, who had aired Spinks’ last three fights, apparently grew weary of the press clippings, and passed on his next fight, a makeshift mandatory defense against Rodney Jones after his date with Mayweather fell through after previously being announced as “99% done.” Spinks’ bout with Jones was originally slated for November 4 – the same night he was originally scheduled to face Mayweather – before being pushed back to January 2007, and then bumped one more month before finally materializing in February.

Cory proceeded with business as usual, ignoring the boo birds and boxed as only he knows how in taking a wide unanimous decision over a seemingly disinterested Jones.  Only this time, there was nothing awaiting the two-time champ. A bout with Ouma was discussed, but passed on by both HBO and Showtime.

Then, the break of a lifetime finally came for Cory.

A long-rumored showdown between Taylor and undefeated season one Contender winner Sergio Mora fell through the cracks when Mora passed on fighting in Memphis. A variety of excuses were offered, chief among them the risk of fighting in Taylor’s home away from home not being worth the reward. Enter Spinks, who took the payday and the four-hour drive from St. Louis in hopes of becoming only the seventh fighter in boxing history to lay claim as linear champion in the welterweight and middleweight divisions.

Weighing in a pound over the limit at the pre-fight weigh-in didn’t rattle Cory, who insisted it was just a disparity in scales. An hour-long stroll around the FedEx Forum was enough for Spinks to shake the pound and put the focus back on fight night.

The only problem: those who showed up at the venue were already charged up by a war of a co-feature between Pavlik and Miranda. Pavlik won by seventh-round knockout, but took a lot of lumps along the way (see BoxingScene’s exclusive one-on-one post-fight interview for proof). It was the type of performance that revitalized boxing fans’ faith in the sport, one which promoter Bob Arum believes is becoming infested with “business deals disguised as boxing matches.” So it was no surprise that the action – or lack thereof – in Taylor-Spinks was met with a chorus of boos very early into their bout, and often throughout the evening.

The boos grew louder at fights end, when it was announced that Taylor emerged by split decision. Many in the crowd felt that Spinks did enough to win the title, or that Taylor didn’t do enough to retain it. The scoring was split in press row. Those who scored it for Spinks (including yours truly, 116-112), preferred the boxing and moving exuded offered by the St. Louis native. Those who scored for Taylor simply countered, “Cory ran all night” before insisting that the fight didn’t warrant debate over who won.

So that’s where it ends. Taylor now faces the choice of either defending against mandatory Pavlik, or pursuing a more lucrative fight at super middleweight against undefeated Welsh superstar Joe Calzaghe. Spinks gets to be told, “You had your chance, now disappear.”

No talks of a rematch to settle the dispute. Not even the alternative of a big fight at a reinvigorated junior middleweight division. Instead, the demand that Cory either start “acting” like a fighter, or be banished from our television screens once and for all.

Apparently, the term “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” is no longer applicable, at least not to pure boxers. Of Spinks’ four career losses, only the rematch with Judah cannot be disputed. Narrow losses to Antonio Diaz and his first fight with Piccirillo were typical hometown decisions. Very few can come up with the necessary scoring criteria to back up any claim that Taylor definitively won their May 19 fight.

Not every team can be run and gun like the Phoenix Suns, who fittingly enough have made their annual exit from the playoffs well before the Finals begin. Sometimes you wind up with defense-heavy teams like the Detroit Pistons, who as of press time are two wins away from their third NBA Finals in four years.

In fact, it’s always preached in every other sport that defense wins championships. Yet it’s boxers who are asked to apologize and change up styles anything short of face-first slugger.

Cory Spinks refuses to change for anyone, and for good reason. His hit-and-don’t-get-hit fighting style is what makes him one of the game’s best. His theatrical ring entrances are extensions of the man outside the ring. He is a man who proudly marches to his own drum. He is a man who has never backed down from any offered fight, or even held out for money in making one happen.

He is Cory Spinks. Unapologetically, and without compromise.