Tag: Brandon Rios

One False Move: The Danger of Jeopardizing Gamboa – Rios

Were boxing to find its counterpart in philosophy it might very well find it in the pages of the Aristotle’s Ethics. In this work, Aristotle argues that excellence isn’t the product of divine legislation, but rather a process that reaches its full development through striving. In Aristotle’s words, “Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.”

It’s this emphasis on aspiration and repetition that resonates within the sport. To achieve excellence in boxing requires that an aspirant set a fixed gaze on his goals. The sport provides innumerable examples of fighters who averted their gaze with disastrous consequences. Repetition is also one of the sport’s dominant memes. The regiment of training, the palaver of promotional activities, the strategies for inflicting punishment, even the anatomical targets for damage—boxing seems like a system of repetition permitting just enough room for unpredictability to remain compelling.

And there is excellence too. But what does it consist of?

It says here that excellence in boxing—in so much as it is a habit, not an act—is determined by more than a fighter’s professional ledger. There is an element of professionalism that speaks to a fighter’s excellence. This professionalism is a complex concept. It includes training with the rigour and diligence required to forge iron, giving a sincere account of oneself in the ring, and meeting promotional responsibilities in earnest.

There’s a reasonable counter to this claim. It’s difficult to argue that ring dominance isn’t alone enough for excellence—this is the fundamental dialogue of the sport, the dominant idiom. To deny an excellent fighter the adjective because of a lack of professionalism seems disproportionately punitive.

These criticisms will be addressed quickly before proceeding. First, the concept of excellence here expounded is one that incorporates more than just ring accomplishments. Whether this is appropriate or not is to be determined by the reader. This concept provides equal opportunity for praise and criticism of a fighter, it merely ups the stakes. Second, as criticism of fighters often takes professionalism—and thereby this concept of excellence—into account, this treatment is only bringing to surface embedded criteria.

In a sport where contests are waged with only two outcomes considered, and where the disparity between abilities can be disturbingly vast, expecting to escape with one’s record unblemished is unrealistic. But boxing tends to forgive the professional his defeats, however crushing, if they’re honourable. This glimmer of amnesty is proof that excellence in boxing is determined by more than victory alone, as a defeat—even multiple defeats—can’t undo a career of noble comportment. Defeat itself can be borne with excellence.

Gamboa’s career thus far had evidenced the trademarks of excellence—he had habituated to its demands. Having openly sought, and been granted, a seemingly insurmountable challenge, Gamboa momentarily arrested a collective imagination and gave his detractors pause. Once Gamboa – Rios was announced there was very little he could do to sully his reputation. In facing Rios, Gamboa would ostensibly try and bridge a weight disparity spanning four divisions: Gamboa, able to make the featherweight limit would be facing a man in Rios, who is a welterweight by fight time. This is tantamount to entering a race and giving a head start to a man who matches your pace.

But it’s precisely because the task is so daunting that defeat is forgivable, even expected. Were Gamboa to conduct himself as a professional and lose to Rios, he might conceivably still make a claim to excellence rivalling any victory on his record. Conversely, the absence of professionalism exhibited in his current truancy and reluctance to follow through on his grand aspirations could temporarily anathematize him. If Gamboa scuttles one of the most intriguing fights in a long time, it will require a rather severe ablution to clean his tarnished reputation.

There’s still time for Gamboa to mitigate this situation. If he fully discloses the details that have ground the fight to a halt perhaps increased public understanding would spare him the proverbial stocks. The details regarding the negotiation of this fight are turbid, though it’s since come to light that Gamboa never signed a contract. He’s justified in his hesitation to the extent that the fight was met with disbelief. It’s hard to envision a scenario where Gamboa wins. It’s fairly easy however, to conjure up the sight of him receiving a potentially irreparable beating. That Top Rank booked a venue, scheduled press conferences, and added $100,000 bonus could be a strong-arm tactic. These steps could’ve been taken to force Gamboa’s hand, to bully him into a fight he had only expressed an interest in, while eluding blame on the grounds of good faith. At 30, Gamboa has yet to develop into an attraction, and Top Rank may have been provided with the best cash-out alternative for parting ways with the Cuban fighter (though he supposedly has three fights left in his deal). And while it’s interesting to think about fighters living the Aristotelian ideal, it isn’t technically demanded of them. Gamboa will be the one living with the consequences of his actions, and if he would rather tarnish his reputation than potentially truncate his career, that’s entirely his decision to make.

Success against a formidable schedule—like a victory over Adrien Broner at lightweight—should do much to undo the resentment over the Rios debacle. This isn’t the death knell of his credibility, but it looks bad. As it stands, Gamboa has been given what he asked for, which is a rarity in boxing. Until the details that soured him on the fight are disclosed Gamboa will be expected to be a professional and honour that opportunity. Hopefully this is merely a single act, and not a habit.

Critical Mass: Early Questions About Gamboa – Rios

On April 14th, featherweight Yuriorkis Gamboa is scheduled to face lightweight rancor Brandon Rios. At first glance this is a delectable dialectic of speed, power, size, and strength that promises drama and excitement. While the foregone conclusion becomes increasingly normative in big fights, Gamboa – Rios doesn’t lend itself particularly well to prognostication. The difficulty in predicting an outcome hinges primarily on how both fighters will respond to being lightweights. The influence of the scale betrays the fact that at 135lbs neither fighter may be operating at his optimum weight.

Gamboa will be moving up two divisions to challenge for the title Rios lost on the scales. If he chooses to bulk up to increase his strength and durability, this added mass could prove problematic. The Cuban is a dense and muscular featherweight; the question of whether he can add enough functional size to be an effective lightweight is a legitimate one. Even if he adds the weight properly, his superlative speed stands to be encumbered by the added bulk. His hands will remain blindingly fast regardless of the increase in size, he could hold ten pound dumbbells and still throw faster than Rios. But for a fighter whose defence is predicated on movement both the decrease in speed and the tax of maneuvering a heavier body about the canvas could prove his undoing. This threat is exacerbated both by Gamboa’s tendency to become increasingly skittish later in fights—when he holsters his most spectacular weapons—and Rios’ traditionally strong finish. To be stationary against Rios is suicide. If Gamboa’s intrepid first venture north is accompanied by an inability to evade a hard charging Rios, what transpired in the early rounds will probably be rendered moot by Rios’ inexorable artillery.

Of course, Gamboa may transition seamlessly into the lightweight division. Rather than focus on crafting a lightweight’s body, he may simply allow his frame to expand naturally. Instead of whittling down to 135lbs, he could approach the fight with the intention of barely surpassing the lightweight limit by the time he starts his ring walk. The threat here is that he will then be facing a fighter who is two weight divisions larger. Gamboa will retain all of his dynamism, but concede every possible size advantage to his opponent—an opponent whose style is predicated on capitalizing on those very same advantages.

Rios faces his own challenges with the lightweight division. He has profited from essentially fighting as a welterweight: his durability and power stem from his massive size and the fact that he exchanges blows with fighters he dwarfs. Rios’ body however, seems increasingly less willing to cooperate. In his last fight, when he was stripped of his title for failing to make weight, Rios looked like an achromatic adumbration of himself. He has obstinately remained at lightweight to exploit his natural advantages, but the demands of a maturing body are even more refractory. Perhaps Rios’ struggles with the scale speak more to his preparation and commitment than they do his physiology. Ultimately, determining why Rios finds making weight so challenging is a secondary matter to this enterprise. What is relevant is the fact that, regardless of the explanation, making 135lbs could have a detrimental impact on Rios’ performance.

It may be that Rios’ last fight—where he was stripped of his title for failing to make weight—was an aberration, and that the circumstances that produced his first fight of that weekend have been rectified. However, it is just as possible that those struggles were the death knell of his term at lightweight. On that weekend in April, the battle with the scale may be the only one he can fight.

The questions posed by the lightweight limit present a number of outcomes. Rios, if he makes weight without exhausting himself, seems durable enough to absorb the speed and power of a recent featherweight. However, if Rios again endures attrition on the scale the argument for a Gamboa victory becomes increasingly more plausible. If both men struggle at lightweight an even fight may break out, but the counterbalance will be negative: neither fighter will be at his best, robbing the contest of some of its appeal. Regardless of what transpires between the ropes, the scale will probably factor heavily in the outcome. (Especially if Rios fails to make weight and Gamboa walks—which is exactly what he should do under those circumstances.)

With the scale come excuses.

If Rios wins many will attribute his victory to an insurmountable size discrepancy. And how much credit does he deserve for beating a featherweight moving up two divisions to fight him? If Gamboa wins, Rios apologists will say he outgrew the division and Gamboa merely finished what the scale started. None of these narratives may prove true, but the fact that they can so easily be appropriated by the overarching storyline of the fight speaks to the complexity of the contest.

Given this myriad of questions, Gamboa – Rios is undeniably intriguing. That Gamboa has the audacity to challenge a masquerading welterweight without first acclimatizing to the lightweight division should be applauded. This is not Jones – Ruiz: Rios is arguably the best lightweight in the world if Juan Manuel Marquez campaigns at junior-welterweight. He is certainly the biggest bruiser on the block. Perhaps Gamboa sensed that his development as a draw has stagnated in its infancy and he thought it best to seize the boxing world’s imagination. It could be that he thinks Rios plays to his strengths stylistically. It’s a perilous move regardless, and his bravery should be celebrated. This is prize fighting—and Gamboa is big game hunting.