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In the build-up to Hatton-Maussa The Anorak relives what was one of the most unforgettable bouts of 2005...
One of the plusses of contemporary boxing is that there is arguably a wider variety of styles and techniques than at any other time in history. While the mainstream popularity of the sport has floundered, we’ve come a long way from the days when Sugar Ray Robinson said he’d never fight a southpaw, and a number of unorthodox boxing methods are now practised and, largely, tolerated. Not all of them are terribly good, but from the Brendan Ingle School of fighters to Chris Bryd’s bizarre pit-a-pat antics, variety is the key.
One of the most underappreciated possible facets of the boxing match, then, is "boxing as comedy". Danny Williams having Zoltan Petranyi literally on his back in June was amusement enough, but just twenty-one days later saw the true birth of a comic legend: Carlos Maussa. Maussa’s record wasn’t actually that bad against a lower tier – he came into the bout with 19 wins (17 inside the distance) and, while losing two, only Miguel Angel Cotto had been able to force a stoppage.
Old for a Light-Welter at 34, Maussa looked like a bizarre cross between a character from German Expressionist cinema and a cartoon in human form. Suitably muscular, he nevertheless gave the impression of being undernourished, as his gangly, uncoordinated boxing style led him around the ring with absolutely zero defence and an inexplicable, wide-armed, windmilling, double-armed attack. For all intents and purposes Maussa looked like a mentally troubled child having his first playground scrap, only the patch of balding palate on his rear reminding you that this was a full grown man conducting combat at one of the highest levels of his profession.
Naturally, any double act needs a perfect straight man, and Carlos’s thoroughly unique antics in the ring saw their ideal foil with Vivian Harris. Harris, a 27-year-old Guyanian operating out of Brooklyn was at the top of his game. Only one points loss and a draw blotted his 24 fight (17 KOs) copybook, and he was effectively a leader of his division with a WBA belt to match the other alphabets doing the circuit in an un-unified weight. The only thing Harris hadn’t got that he craved was recognition. To this end he amusingly took a huge drop in his purse in order to get on the undercard of the much-hyped Gatti-Mayweather bill. The only thing left was to handpick an opponent there for a quick KO and an instant rise to fame: the limited Maussa fitted the bill perfectly, a late substitute for Arturo Morua.
The first round saw a fired-up Harris barely acknowledge Maussa’s extended glove and rock him badly within ten seconds of the opening bell; less than fifteen seconds had passed before Harris had thrown Maussa to the floor and referee Earl Brown was signalling a "no knockdown". However, beyond the first twenty seconds Harris was barely in the fight. It’s an odd equation: can a fighter be so unorthodox, so technically lacking in any kind of fundamentals that his own full-blown ineptitude allows him to outbox a boxer? The answer here was yes, as the Emanuel Steward-entitled "Rubber Man" dodged and weaved from Harris’s blows with all the skill and grace of a drunken reveller, all the time firing back; his offensive arsenal eerily reminiscent of Chaplin or Laurel in their cinematic recreations of pugilism. No area was an off-limits target to Maussa: hips, crotch, the back of the head… all were reigned down upon, with Harris taking around fifty wild shots from a minute to the bell.
The second had a clearly undertrained Harris already breathing heavily, the apparent cost of expecting to blow away his opponent with ease. Despite landing a couple of flush shots to Carlos’s always-available chin, Vivian was being outlanded by at least a two-to-one ratio and by a minute into the second Maussa was placing his chin directly in front of Harris, taunting him with abandonment. Another minute in and he had developed the confidence to place his hand on Harris’s head (shades of a low-grade Ali and Frazier, though this was more Keaton and Lloyd) as he took aim with a slashing right. Less than thirty seconds to go and Harris landed what appeared to be a low blow, possibly in retaliation or frustration; perhaps both. Harris was catching a percentage of Maussa’s blows on his gloves – what was getting through wasn’t particularly hurtful, either, but one thing was for certain – with a ranked outsider dropping to waist level and offering himself completely exposed with seconds left in the round Harris was beginning to look very, very foolish.
The third began with Harris returning to the basics, his tight guard causing Maussa problems as Carlos ambled forward like a man with his leg caught in a bear trap. It was Harris’s best round, though he would end it with a sizeable cut over his right eye and Carlos headbutting him just before the bell. With a ringside Doctor being called in, Vivian was allowed out for more of the same: a standard "gloves in front of you" defence and the right cross following nicely off the jab. Sadly, Maussa, possessing either the chin or the recklessness not to care, continued to go around the sides and absorbed each blow from Harris by bouncing around the ring like an overexcited toddler. Though also cut around the bridge of his nose, it was contained, and the fourth finished with Harris being hit almost at will in Maussa’s corner, his mouthpiece knocked out from a right cross.
Perhaps realising that the humour ante could be upped even further, Carlos ratcheted up the entertainment value in the classic fifth round. By now backing Harris up at will – the belt holder having completely abandoned the ring centre – Maussa spent nearly a minute walking around the ring, refusing to engage in combat and taunting the nearly exhausted champion to force the action. Earl Brown was forced to command him to resume the action, while Harris peered on dejectedly, the night of his dreams having been wrenched inside out before his eyes. Maussa spent the dying seconds of the round flapping his arms from side to side like a superannuated chicken and offering his glove to Harris as a sign of disrespect. As the champion trying to battle against an outsider making no attempt to box Harris may have taken the round, but he was rapidly running out of ideas and stamina.
Carlos’s high punch output was continuing to drain Harris in the sixth, where the champ’s punch stats were dropping to below half that of his average. By now he was on the constant retreat, Maussa inexplicably hitting him almost without reply, his own accuracy increasing. Vivian’s equilibrium was beginning to deteriorate, his fatigue, rabbit punches and hip shots all doing their part. By this stage Harris was making repeated attempts to hold, only to be humiliatingly pushed off by Maussa. Harris’s black mouth guard was now constantly on display as he struggled for oxygen.
2’35 into round seven and Maussa connected with the literal punchline, a flush shot to the chin area which saw Harris stagger back on legs even more rubbery than Maussa’s, then over to his right side with his head under the bottom rope. There are arguments to be had that Harris made the count within the rules: Maussa wasn’t in a neutral corner when the count was started, and an attempt by Carlos to smash Vivian on the side of the head while he was down (Maussa later alleged this wasn’t intended to strike his victim, just frighten him) should arguably have seen him disqualified. It mattered little: when Harris arose his eyes were glazed, his face shamed. Overnight the Harris camp wanted to create a superstar. They had… just not in the manner they’d intended.
Maussa should always be credited not only for providing what is possibly boxing’s funniest-ever round with the fifth, but also for being willing to step up and face what should have been a severely superior opponent. That he is willing to do so a second time when he faces Ricky Hatton for the IBF belt is to his enormous credit. Maussa has over four inches in height on Hatton, a greater KO ratio and an eight-inch reach advantage. Yet in all honesty, Hatton, with a still not inconsiderable 74% KO ratio, looks to end matters early and add an extremely attainable belt to his collection. While part of me would like to see the Carlos Maussa Comedy Express roll on for a few more shows, I see Ricky’s willingness to trade on terms with "dirty" opponents and concentrated body attacks ending it well within four rounds. But for Maussa, as the great Eddie Futch once said, "no one will ever forget what you did today"... except this time, for completely different reasons.
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