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By Bart Barry-



Saturday at CenturyLink Center in Omaha, Nebraskan lightweight champion Terence Crawford decisioned Mexican Raymundo Beltran lopsidedly, 119-109 and 118-110 and 119-109, in a match that was not large as its superlatives but demonstrated Crawford should stay at lightweight, which he won’t, Beltran was overrated, which no rater will admit, and Crawford should be 2014’s fighter of the year, an award that instead will go to a Russian who decisioned a 49-year-old last month.

In this, the final month of this, one hell of a dreadful year for our beloved sport, there are clear factions established among aficionados, anymore, and these factions predict with unfortunate accuracy the way each HBO main event will be seen. There are the sturdy optimists, identifiable by their collective disgust, creatively and diversely expressed; and there are the evangelists, using to describe today’s middling fare what words once adorned feats by Marvelous Marvin Hagler and Roberto Duran – and almost always with a financial incentive for imposing such overwrought modifiers.

The sturdy optimists saw Saturday on HBO two mediocre featherweights followed by one good lightweight and one very good lightweight. The sturdy optimists, who are optimistic for their refusal to call a counterfeit the true coin, saw nothing great happen. The evangelists, contrarily, saw the possible future of Puerto Rico prizefighting score a questionable draw with a Russian fighter – and if this year taught us little more, it taught us a former-Soviet-bloc fighter has amazingness as his birthright – followed by a future great with every tool establishing lightweight lineality against a very good contender (who should be champion!) before 12,000 Nebraskans, which is an astounding number when one considers it is 30-percent more fans than Gennady Golovkin’s record breaker of a ticketselling feat comprised in October.

The less written about undefeated Russian featherweight Evgeny Gradovich and undefeated Puerto Rican Jayson Velez’s remaining undefeated against one another, the better – as each man would be better served fighting the other man six more times than getting axed by Jamaican Nicholas Walters, and so let’s just wait for their third rematch before returning to them.

Terence Crawford is much better than most of his peers, both better at fighting than they are and better at interesting the townspeople of his native city in prizefighting, and promoter Top Rank deserves credit for working to build Crawford as an attraction in Omaha, a city not identifiable by anyone as interested in boxing till recently. Crawford’s large ticket sales in his hometown are surprising as the paucity of tickets he would sell in Las Vegas if he took his show on the road, which he oughtn’t do.

Crawford needs offensive-minded opponents to entertain best, and the more offensively basic and defensively suspect such athletic men are when they move forward, the better. Raymundo Beltran, a Mexican who fights out of Arizona and California, often as a sparring partner to the stars, was nearly right for Crawford’s style as Yuriorkis Gamboa was for Crawford’s ascension-making performance in June. Beltran fought gamely but ultimately succumbed to a sparring-partner ethic that makes meaningful effort, and the good work it gives one’s customer, nearly valuable as victory. When Beltran whacked away at Ricky Burns a couple Septembers ago, he used his Mexican suspicion of others’ acclaim to test the Scotsman and find him wanting, before treating Burns like an impostor. Saturday Beltran began with the same Mexican suspicion, one that grows in another man’s hometown, serendipitously enough for Mexican prizefighters and aficionados, to test Crawford, and land what was a jarring righthand in round 3.

But this time the man across from Beltran was a customer, not an impostor, and it remanded Beltran to nine rounds of hard labor and meaningful effort and what satisfaction and acclaim he received immediately afterwards despite losing 10 rounds unanimously. So dismal has boxing become that Crawford’s sporadic efforts to knock-out Beltran in rounds 11 and 12 met with near breathlessness from HBO’s broadcasting crew, as if endeavoring to land the decisive blow on a man whom you’ve outclassed for a solid half hour is a new and abstract form of courageousness. Alas. Evangelists are not culpable for lapses in quality control; their job is enthusiasm, not discernment, and their craft is craftily wording homages and tributes to whomever gets placed before them, not choosing those men.

Now Terence Crawford, who has the skills, potentially, to be a great lightweight but lacks the physical strength to be more than a good junior welterweight and a mediocre welterweight is summoned to 140 pounds, which is unfortunate because he fought Saturday at 153 pounds and did not carry in either fist power enough to stretch a man who began his career at 126. Barring nifty matchmaking, Crawford may well have scored his career’s last meaningful knockout in the very year aficionados happened to get excited about him, a phenomenon becoming too common in prizefighting to be called phenomenal.

It is hard to imagine Sergey Kovalev’s decisioning of a 49-year-old Bernard Hopkins evinces greater merit than Crawford’s three decisive victories over men in the primes of their careers, but as Kovalev’s decisive victory happened in front of more American boxing writers than the aggregate of Crawford’s three victories, well, one needn’t be a pessimist to know which way the nod will go, as the optimists look middle-distance, detached, and the evangelists make sure someone is looking at them for a quiet fist pump.

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Editor’s note: After a one-week Spanish hiatus, Bart Barry’s column will return on Dec. 15.