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By William Dettloff
That was a hell of a left hook to the ribs that put Jose Luis Castillo down in the fourth round on Saturday night. But it wasn’t what kept him down.
Watch the end again. Look at Castillo’s face when Joe Cortez reaches 10: No grimace. No gasping for breath. No anguish. No fatigue, regret, or even resignation.
What did Castillo’s face say? It said: Screw it.
Even Oscar De La Hoya had the good sense to act like he was hurt: He smacked the canvas. He squinted. He rolled around a little.
Castillo? Screw it.
Disclaimer: I don’t know for certain what was going through Castillo’s mind when he took the full count from a knee because, well, I’m not a mind-reader. And even if I was, I don’t think it would help because I don’t understand Spanish.
Also, who knows, maybe Castillo’s ribs were sore going into the fight. Sometimes fighters don’t reveal it when they go into a fight injured. Shocking, I know.
But I’ve taken and landed bodyshots like the one Hatton landed—high on the ribs like that. Okay, so mostly taken rather than landed. The point is this: They’re usually not fight-enders. They don’t hit any vulnerable organs or anything that’s soft and fleshy.
I’m no doctor, but I know soft and fleshy. Believe me when I tell you. So while the bodyshot certainly was good enough to put Castillo down, I don’t believe it kept him there. What did?
The cumulative effect of a bunch of things, starting with the absurdly high $250,000 fine the Nevada State Athletic Commission hit Castillo with for not making weight for his rubber match with Diego Corrales.
Do these pompous pencil-pushers know how much money that is to a fighter whose name isn’t De La Hoya? Or to anyone outside the precious high-rollers who waddle into their casinos every week because they don’t know what to do with all their millions, so why not throw it away at the blackjack table?
Throw in the year Castillo couldn’t fight, and also the lawsuit Gary Shaw and Corrales’ wife have pending against him, which reminds me: If Joel Casamayor had decided not to fight when Corrales came in high for their last fight, could he have sued Corrales? Wouldn’t that have been sweet?
Castillo might not make any money at all for a while. How hard would you work if you knew you might not get paid for your labor? You couldn’t get me to come to work with pants on if there was a chance I wasn’t going to see one of my scary checks at the end of the week.
Here was the clincher (pun intended): Hatton’s first clinch came six seconds into the fight. Yes, I timed it. Clinches continued at roughly seven-second intervals thereafter, give or take, excluding between rounds.
It was just the kind of fight Hatton wanted: mauling, grabbing, holding, pushing, all the stuff he likes to do that’s apparently illegal only in theory. Castillo was not going to win that kind of fight. He knew it.
And then, Cortez, instead of doing something to stop the holding, docked Castillo a point for a low blow.
I’d have stayed down too.
None of this is to take away from Hatton’s performance. He was very good. He was outfighting Castillo; he had won every round and looked on his way to a win. He was faster, stronger, and, up to the point of the stoppage, clearly better. He even put Castillo on the deck, no small feat.
He just had a little help keeping him there.
Some random observations from last week:
I don’t follow any sports outside boxing and women’s beach volleyball, but I couldn’t avoid all the recent talk in football circles about the long-term effects of repeated concussions on NFL players. Everyone is all worked up because recent studies suggest that nasty blows to the cranium can cause depression, early onset Alzheimer’s disease, or other types of dementia.
I don’t want to appear insensitive, but duh. Where the hell has everyone been? Do boxing and football exist in parallel universes or something? If you want to see what repeated head blows and concussions do to a human’s cognitive and motor abilities, attend the induction banquet and dinner at the International Boxing Hall of Fame one year. And bring a translator. Better yet, start keeping track of fighters’ obituaries and note how many ex-pugs die from Alzheimer’s while in nursing homes. This is news?
Is it possible that Oliver McCall can still fight a little? If it’s true, Christmas trees everywhere should take cover.
Who else thinks that for a Stegosaurus, Paulie Malignaggi is a hell of a mover?
Good for Hatton for wearing that “Ricky Fatton” shirt in the ring. Man, he is a likable kid.
It’s astonishing how well Michael Buffer’s “let’s get ready to rumble” still works after all these years. Talk about catching lightning in a bottle.
I thought Max Kellerman did all right for his first time in Larry Merchant’s spot.
The IBO light welterweight title. Sigh …
Bill Dettloff can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.
That was a hell of a left hook to the ribs that put Jose Luis Castillo down in the fourth round on Saturday night. But it wasn’t what kept him down.
Watch the end again. Look at Castillo’s face when Joe Cortez reaches 10: No grimace. No gasping for breath. No anguish. No fatigue, regret, or even resignation.
What did Castillo’s face say? It said: Screw it.
Even Oscar De La Hoya had the good sense to act like he was hurt: He smacked the canvas. He squinted. He rolled around a little.
Castillo? Screw it.
Disclaimer: I don’t know for certain what was going through Castillo’s mind when he took the full count from a knee because, well, I’m not a mind-reader. And even if I was, I don’t think it would help because I don’t understand Spanish.
Also, who knows, maybe Castillo’s ribs were sore going into the fight. Sometimes fighters don’t reveal it when they go into a fight injured. Shocking, I know.
But I’ve taken and landed bodyshots like the one Hatton landed—high on the ribs like that. Okay, so mostly taken rather than landed. The point is this: They’re usually not fight-enders. They don’t hit any vulnerable organs or anything that’s soft and fleshy.
I’m no doctor, but I know soft and fleshy. Believe me when I tell you. So while the bodyshot certainly was good enough to put Castillo down, I don’t believe it kept him there. What did?
The cumulative effect of a bunch of things, starting with the absurdly high $250,000 fine the Nevada State Athletic Commission hit Castillo with for not making weight for his rubber match with Diego Corrales.
Do these pompous pencil-pushers know how much money that is to a fighter whose name isn’t De La Hoya? Or to anyone outside the precious high-rollers who waddle into their casinos every week because they don’t know what to do with all their millions, so why not throw it away at the blackjack table?
Throw in the year Castillo couldn’t fight, and also the lawsuit Gary Shaw and Corrales’ wife have pending against him, which reminds me: If Joel Casamayor had decided not to fight when Corrales came in high for their last fight, could he have sued Corrales? Wouldn’t that have been sweet?
Castillo might not make any money at all for a while. How hard would you work if you knew you might not get paid for your labor? You couldn’t get me to come to work with pants on if there was a chance I wasn’t going to see one of my scary checks at the end of the week.
Here was the clincher (pun intended): Hatton’s first clinch came six seconds into the fight. Yes, I timed it. Clinches continued at roughly seven-second intervals thereafter, give or take, excluding between rounds.
It was just the kind of fight Hatton wanted: mauling, grabbing, holding, pushing, all the stuff he likes to do that’s apparently illegal only in theory. Castillo was not going to win that kind of fight. He knew it.
And then, Cortez, instead of doing something to stop the holding, docked Castillo a point for a low blow.
I’d have stayed down too.
None of this is to take away from Hatton’s performance. He was very good. He was outfighting Castillo; he had won every round and looked on his way to a win. He was faster, stronger, and, up to the point of the stoppage, clearly better. He even put Castillo on the deck, no small feat.
He just had a little help keeping him there.
Some random observations from last week:
I don’t follow any sports outside boxing and women’s beach volleyball, but I couldn’t avoid all the recent talk in football circles about the long-term effects of repeated concussions on NFL players. Everyone is all worked up because recent studies suggest that nasty blows to the cranium can cause depression, early onset Alzheimer’s disease, or other types of dementia.
I don’t want to appear insensitive, but duh. Where the hell has everyone been? Do boxing and football exist in parallel universes or something? If you want to see what repeated head blows and concussions do to a human’s cognitive and motor abilities, attend the induction banquet and dinner at the International Boxing Hall of Fame one year. And bring a translator. Better yet, start keeping track of fighters’ obituaries and note how many ex-pugs die from Alzheimer’s while in nursing homes. This is news?
Is it possible that Oliver McCall can still fight a little? If it’s true, Christmas trees everywhere should take cover.
Who else thinks that for a Stegosaurus, Paulie Malignaggi is a hell of a mover?
Good for Hatton for wearing that “Ricky Fatton” shirt in the ring. Man, he is a likable kid.
It’s astonishing how well Michael Buffer’s “let’s get ready to rumble” still works after all these years. Talk about catching lightning in a bottle.
I thought Max Kellerman did all right for his first time in Larry Merchant’s spot.
The IBO light welterweight title. Sigh …
Bill Dettloff can be contacted at dettloff@ptd.net.
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