If there was ever any doubt that boxing is a sport run on star power rather than quality of competition, you just had to look at the energized, sold out T-Mobile Arena in Las Vegas to affirm that.
Coming into Saturday’s Saul “Canelo” Alvarez vs. Edgar Berlanga super middleweight title fight, the thought was that it would be about as competitive as Dan Rafael vs. Bob Arum in a chicken wing eating competition.
Despite efforts from the promotion to make this fight a feel-good after-the-fact event, the truth of the matter was that Alvarez won all but a few seconds of the bout (despite generous judges’ scorecards of 117-110, 118-109, and 118-109). He was never even remotely bothered by anything Berlanga did, other than suffering a case of hurt feelings when the Brooklynite tried to lead with his head in the eighth round.
But how good was anyone supposed to feel about a -1800 favorite dominating a fight everyone knew he would dominate, in the worst possible way– via competent points victory?
I got no particular thrill from what amounted to a wasted night in the career of a modern great, besting an overmatched, undeserving opponent in what stands to be, realistically, one of a remaining handful of nights in a Hall of Fame run.
The paying fans dishing out $90 for the pay-per-view, expecting something other than a showcase for Canelo, also couldn’t have been too pleased– especially if they sat through that soul-draining Erislandy Lara-Danny Garcia snoozer right before the main event.
Canelo, however, was certainly ecstatic after the fight, grinning ear-to-ear, “Viva Mexicoing” the hell out of the partisan pro-Canelo crowd in the post-fight interview.
And who can blame him for being pajama-splitting happy after Saturday’s bout?
He made a shit-ton of money for fighting someone with no chance of beating him, who, by being durable and not crumbling under the weight of the moment, lent an ounce of credibility to a wholly not credible pairing. There would be no, “What the fuck could I do, he wouldn’t fight?” laments, like after the Jermell Charlo fight or “I wasn’t at 100%” spin, like after the John Ryder bout. This time, the Mexican superstar could claim, with a straight face, that he was kinda, sorta dominating in an actual fight.
But we all know this one wasn’t much of an actual fight.
The Brooklynite got the B-side call from Team Canelo because, as someone who could be wedged into a Mexico vs. Puerto Rico storyline, he was the most bankable of all the available fall guys. That business decision would make Berlanga’s “Chosen One” nickname incredibly appropriate on this occasion.
Canelo did his part and made for a decent show in a bout that had no real intrigue. There were entertaining moments where the 34-year-old defending champ put on the pressure with legitimate bad intent and Berlanga poked back as best he could. But Berlanga’s ability to see the final bell was mostly about his body mass (reportedly upwards of 190 lbs.), as well as Canelo’s willingness to only go so far in pursuit of making a fight out of a virtuoso solo performance.
It should also be pointed out that Berlanga, who got lots of pats on the back for going the full twelve and, I guess, not being a bumbling fool, clearly decided to NOT go out on his shield (as he had promised). He never went “full in” in pursuing a free-swinging, brawling battle– his only marginally plausible path to victory. Instead, he “boxed,” stayed relatively safe, and found his way to the final bell, employing a strategy that kept him from taking a beating, but also eliminated any chance he had of winning. His only brief flash of true gumption was in the third round, after he had been embarrassed by being knocked down, when he responded with about 30 seconds of fist-flinging aggression. But that was it. In a way, it was as negative of a performance against Canelo as Jermell Charlo’s last September because, at the very least, Charlo never promised a war and nobody expected one from him.
But none of this seemed to bother the ecstatic true-believers at T-Mobile or the handful of super fans and brand cheerleaders on social media who talked this fight up like it totally wasn’t a cynical mismatch that should’ve ended in six rounds.
So, what’s next for Canelo?
Honestly, I couldn’t care less. THIS Canelo is a boring waste of everyone’s time (and money, which could be invested in a year’s worth of better, more compelling fights). In the days prior to this card, Alvarez talked up his desire to pursue a rematch with Dmitry Bivol, who beat him decisively in May of 2022 and, essentially, ended his interest in satiating his competitive hunger.
But the Bivol talk prior to Berlanga was just an indication that Canelo was hearing all the criticism regarding Saturday’s fight. When a promoter starts talking up the “next” fight before the current fight, you know he’s shook– and Canelo is most definitely his own promoter in every sense of the word these days. He ain’t fighting Bivol, though. Not in a million years. He had two years to pursue that rematch and couldn’t run far enough the other way from making it happen. Canelo’s a smart guy. He knows that a rematch would not go any better than the first go ‘round and could conceivably go a whole lot worse. Plus, Bivol has his unificartion bout with Artur Beterbiev next month.
With Bivol out of the question and David Benavidez obviously not happening, that doesn’t leave much viable competition out there for Alvarez. And that, apparently, is just fine with him. He’s clearly not looking to run up against some game young buck with a real shot of beating him up at this point in his career.
As close as we’ll get to a “real” fight for Canelo is Terence Crawford, who was in attendance at T-Mobile (and then “Noche UFC” at The Sphere, alongside new bestest sugar daddy Turki Alalshikh), although Alvarez issued a terse “No Comment” when asked at the post-fight press conference about the possibility of fighting Crawford next.
It’s more likely that we’ll get a fight with Chris Eubank Jr. next. The second-generation British star ticks off all the boxes of what present tense Canelo Alvarez is looking for in his big fights– a name, an impressive look, and no real chance of beating him.
Notes from the Undercard:
– If only we all had friends like Danny Garcia has at PBC. The two-division former champ, inactive for two years and fully removed from the boxing scene, was gifted a shit-ton of money for a gig he didn’t deserve and didn’t try to complete. Garcia had never competed at 160 and didn’t deserve a WBA middleweight title shot against Erislandy Lara, who, himself, barely deserved to have the belt. In turn, he performed like he absolutely did NOT give a shit about returning the PBC favor with a compelling effort. Garcia, who was one of the OG PBC players, did nothing (against a Lara who barely did more than nothing) before being dropped with a poke of a punch at the end of the ninth and seeing his father wave off the dreadful bout before the start of the tenth round.
– Caleb Plant-Trevor McCumby was, by far, the fight of the night on Saturday as both actually came to win and– OMG– actually hurt one another. Plant overcame some rough patches early in the contest from the strong and awkward one-time prospect, but eventually demonstrated his class. He also demonstrated his growing star power as the T-Mobile audience popped hard for his earnest efforts and occasional posturing.
– Rolly Romero, as a I wrote over at Boxingnews.co, “mugged and thumped and made a general mess en route to a one-sided 10-round unanimous decision win over a completely ineffectual Manuel Jaimes.” Romero is so sloppy and unskilled that everybody he fights has a legit chance of beating him. But the sloppiness and lack of skill also makes him an awkward opponent who busts up rhythm and spoils game plans. He’ll continue to be a compelling watch, ala Ricardo Mayorga, who will beat the low-level pugs, lose to the elites, and maybe, occasionally, beat a really good fighter here and there with his mugging style.
Got something for Magno? Send it here: paulmagno@theboxingtribune.com.
