Ten days ago, boxing’s most famous and celebrated “monster”, Naoya Inoue, scared the living daylights out of Ye Joon Kim in a hastily arranged mismatch in Tokyo. He sized him up at first, lulling him into a false sense of security, and then, just as Kim started to feel comfortable, Inoue cruelly pounced on him, hurt him, and demonstrated in a burst of only a few punches why so many junior featherweights fear fighting the Japanese superstar.
Last night, meanwhile, we saw boxing’s other “monster”, light heavyweight David Benavidez. He, unlike Inoue, does not come with all the fancy artwork, promo videos, or indeed Inoue’s mystique, but is no less scary for opponents when they are confronted by the “Mexican Monster” in the ring. Against David Morrell, for example, a fighter accustomed to being the bully in fights, Benavidez showed the difference between men and monsters by forcing the Cuban southpaw into areas of a fight previously untouched and unexplored: retreat, back to the ropes, under pressure. For Benavidez, this was of course nothing new, and certainly no diversion, yet for Morrell it made for an uncomfortable and somewhat unusual in-ring experience. Try as he might, he was unable to keep Benavidez away from him for the 12 rounds they shared and even Morrell’s power, of which much was made pre-fight, seemed to have no impact on Benavidez and did nothing to stop the Mexican marauding forward, hands often by his sides.
Indeed, perhaps of all the images Benavidez presents, it is that one, the image of him marching forward with no consideration for defence, which strikes opponents as the most terrifying. It is not scary in the same way a Naoya Inoue combination is scary, but what Benavidez lacks in sudden shocks he makes up for in persistence and in his ability to stalk and suffocate an opponent with no concern for what is likely to come back. He is, in that respect, more of a contemporary monster: a Michael Myers, a Freddy Krueger, a Jason. He keeps coming and is merciless in his pursuit. There is, it seems, nothing you can do to deter him, much less stop him.
This Morrell discovered the hard way last night in Las Vegas. Courageous throughout, he showed plenty of smart moves and produced some eye-catching punches of his own, but at no stage was Morrell ever able to seize control and make Benavidez start fighting his kind of fight or at least second guessing his own. Even when Morrell managed to score a flash knockdown in round 11, when catching Benavidez with a right hook, this moment served only to anger Benavidez and trigger an immediate response from him. Not only that, this response, rather than that of a desperate and confused man, was instead twice as ferocious as any previous attack. Why? Because the monster had not been hurt, but had simply been embarrassed, stung into action, reawakened.
By then Morrell would not have been surprised by this reaction. In fact, he would have been ready for it, aware that to drop Benavidez is not enough when hoping to contain and beat a man like that. To beat a man like that a boxer must not just drop them but keep them there – on the canvas, ideally on their back, staring up at the lights. Otherwise, they are, for as long as they can still stand and punch, liable to spring back to life and pick up where they left off.
So it proved with Benavidez, who, through eight rounds, had landed more punches on Morrell’s body than any previous opponent Morrell had faced. With these investments in place, Benavidez had every reason to believe that he had been knocked down by a man with very little energy left and was therefore able to continue as before, safe in the knowledge that Morrell, despite the knockdown, was just as exhausted as he was at that late stage in the fight.
Better yet, for Benavidez, Morrell followed and tarnished that 11th-round breakthrough by allowing the emotion of it all to spill over and tagging Benavidez after the bell. This led to a one-point deduction and all but sealed Morrell’s fate, at least on the scorecards. (After 12 completed rounds the judges had Benavidez winning by scores of 118-108, 115-111, and 115-111.)
“This is Monster’s world,” said Benavidez, 30-0 (24), after the fight. “But a big shout out to Morrell. He took a tough test. I knew he was going to be a tough fighter. That’s why I prepared so hard for this. I’m just happy the people were able to get a good show tonight.”
Prior to the fight Morrell, now 11-1 (9), claimed he didn’t believe in monsters and few, until meeting one, actually do. This is true of Naoya Inoue’s opponents, all of whom turn around only when it’s too late, and it is easy to see why the same would be true of opponents of David Benavidez as well. After all, his style, which is simple in terms of language but difficult to either replicate in sparring or stop in a fight, must surely come as a surprise even to those open to the possibility that monsters exist.
He is, you see, a different kind of monster, Benavidez. He is different from Naoya Inoue and he is different, too, from all the other fighters who claim either monstrous power or monstrous intent. He is both body-snatcher and the possessed. He doesn’t just chase you; he changes you. He makes believers of cynics and boxers of aggressors.
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