Herald Scotland's sports team trawls through the archives to bring you the best stories from yesteryear
Herald Scotland's sports team trawls through the archives to bring you the best stories from yesteryear
THE greatest artists produce their finest masterpieces from the canvas. For the second time in a row, Joe Calzaghe climbed off his haunches to cement his entry into boxing folklore.
A first-round knockdown at Madison Square Garden merely added to the majesty of Calzaghe's procession past a hollow Roy Jones Jr.
He vanquished another of American boxing's favourite sons, Bernard Hopkins, from similar adversity in Las Vegas back in April. The 43-year-old looked on knowingly as Jones resigned himself to the role of pitiful punching bag.
Calzaghe, who secured his 46th successive win in a 15-year unbeaten run, departed the ring to a hero's fanfare. By the time the Welshman paid tribute to his travelling support and his father, Enzo, in what amounted to a valedictory speech, Jones had long since left the building with only a single round won and blood seeping into his eye to show for his bravery.
The Floridian had met his match in skill, speed and showmanship. Calzaghe's superiority - 118-109 on all three scorecards - confirmed that this was as much a legitimate contest as Hulk Hogan's victory over Andre the Giant in Wrestlemania III. Not that the audience were complaining.
For all the pre-match propaganda, Jones lost the heart and tools for battle at this level after a series of defeats to Antonio Tarver and Glenn Johnson. Victory over an outof-condition Felix Trinidad simply gave him a boxer's skewed perception of reality.
He lost before a punch had been thrown. A renowned entertainer, Jones made a sombre entrance, wearing a bright orange robe that accentuated the image of a prisoner to an inevitable fate.
Calzaghe strode through the partisan Celtic crowd with steel in his eyes. Not even the early uppercut that chopped him to the floor could deny Calzaghe his destiny.
What followed was an engrossing exchange of blows and signature moves, a world title fight with all the bravado and reckless abandon of an exhibition bout. The rematch had been pre-arranged but neither should risk damage to his legacy for the sake of a few dollars more. Calzaghe would gain nothing from inflicting more misery on Jones in the Millennium Stadium and there are few appealing options besides, despite Hopkins' hollering for another opportunity.
"This was a fairytale fight and a fairytale ending," said Calzaghe, who emerged with The Ring magazine's lightheavyweight title around his waist and only a minor nick on the bridge of his nose. "I'm going to go back and talk to my family and think about it before I make a final decision [on retirement]. I just beat two legends in Hopkins and Jones and I came to the US to do it. I took the risk: they didn't come to me. This could be my last fight." Inspiration for retirement was close at hand. Alongside the Hollywood A-listers, Evander Holyfield looked on vacantly; the last great heavyweight fighter now a sad figure still treading the boards at 46. If the lure of Rocky Marciano's unbeaten record of 49 professional fights proves too much, Calzaghe can at least proceed with the confidence that his attributes have been undimmed with time.
The early knockdown in fact sharpened his reflexes. "I perform better when I get knocked down," he said, having recovered from such peril on four occasions. The response was emphatic. Jones's attempts tostamp his authority were contemptuously ridiculed.
Calzaghe constantly dropped his guard, thrusting his face towards his opponent. Five years ago, it would have been tantamount to suicide against a venomous overhead clubber. On Saturday, it stripped the final layer of Jones's invincibility.
Calzaghe's superiority was confirmed during the closing exchanges of the third round. He stole the American's windmill move - winding up his right hand only to throw a straight left to the forehead - wiggled his backside while exposing his chin for close inspection and humiliated the wounded animal by ducking his way out of a late flurry with not even the faintest whiff of leather.
The crowd lapped it up, while the purists pondered an affront to the Queensbury Rules. Whatever, there would be no let-up in the entertainment. Jones spent the second half of the fight on the ropes in a forlorn counter-attacking strategy. The uppercut that felled Calzaghe reared itself again in the sixth and while the crowd winced at the slow-motion replay of the Welshman's features squashing like marshmallow, he recovered instantly.
A slicing left hook opened a wound above Jones's left eye that would impair him for the remainder of the fight. It left the ringside doctor to poke around the exposed tissue, about two inches wide, and pretend it was a graze to keep the bloodlust going. Calzaghe preyed on his victim's stricken state with a series of precise jabs.
A knockout was the next logical step but for all the champion's weaponry, a conclusive punch proved elusive. He made up for his one weakness with sheer volume and as Jones stood helplessly, Calzaghe's showmanship bordered on disingenuous as he danced around an increasingly helpless figure. For those reared on the legendary fights against Hopkins, John Ruiz and James Toney, Jones's was a harrowing plight.
Pride kept him on his feet until the final bell, his face a mess but his dignity intact. Nobody needed the judges' scorecards but, for once, they were unanimous in their accuracy. Calzaghe's place in history is secure.
"If he doesn't want to box, he has my blessing," said Enzo. "He's achieved everything he wants to achieve. The boy needs a rest. He'll analyse what he went through: does he want to go through that again? Sixteen weeks of work, sweating? He's got kids growing up. He's got a life."
Father knows best.
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