When two men enter a ring 20-feet long by 20-feet wide, and then
proceed to punch each other’s brains out, the easy assumption to
make is that little thought is put into the process.
The stronger man wins, the weaker man falls.
When two men enter a ring 20-feet long by 20-feet wide, and then proceed to punch each other’s brains out, the easy assumption to make is that little thought is put into the process.
The stronger man wins, the weaker man falls.
But to fully understand why Robert “The Ghost” Guerrero is still IBF Featherweight champion of the world after an eighth round knockout of Jason Litzau last Saturday, one must realize that each punch he threw had a purpose – with the goal in mind being to tear away layers of protection until Litzau was stripped of his shield, and only a weak chin remained.
As things appeared dicey for Guerrero in rounds five and six, it wasn’t difficult to imagine each man was one big shot away from being able to stand on the ropes with a fist held high in the air. But for the 24-year-old champ from Gilroy, a more cerebral approach to the sweet science, along with a devastating left hand, is what continues to propel the southpaw to soon-to-be superstar status in the sport.
As both fighters exchanged haymakers, it was Guerrero’s ability to take a step back from the situation and remember what his father and trainer, Ruben, told him would win the fight.
“I was telling Robert to relax a little bit. ‘You know you got him hurt, take your time. You’re overshooting. Step back and let that uppercut go,’ ” Ruben said minutes after the bout. “We practiced those uppercuts. That was the gameplan.”
A minute into the eighth round, it was a left uppercut followed by a left power shot that sent Litzau, also known as “The American Boy,” down for the first time. Peeling himself off the canvas quickly, Litzau showed tremendous heart by not quitting as he was given a standing-eight count by referee David Mendoza, .
Guerrero, in contrast, showed tremendous awareness by taking his time.
Rather than punching himself ragged, Guerrero took his time in picking apart Litzau as he still had the better part of the round to work with. A little over a minute later, Guerrero’s patience paid off as he connected with another left uppercut, a left hook and then a right hook to end the fight for good. Mendoza became the last line of defense, forced to shield a stumbling Litzau from further punishment.
Fighters are constantly forced to adapt, and in the era of technology, Guerrero and his father have done an excellent job of taking advantage of film. While keeping The Ghost’s strengths in mind, the pair are only getting better with each bout at scouting opponents and breaking down critical flaws.
Litzau, however, watched no film of Guerrero. Whether it was overconfidence or a concern that he might lose confidence from what he saw, not taking advantage of every resource available is something Litzau could regret for the rest of his career. His first shot at the title, his opportunity to live off the fat of the land, is now gone and unlikely to reappear for some time.
As he sat slumped against a wall in the training room, Litzau’s head hung low as he heard family and friends tell him this wasn’t the end of the line, citing former champions that had losses on their resume only to rebound later in their career. Litzau’s trainer asked if he would now start watching film of other fighters with him. The young man, who had made something of himself through hard work and sheer determination, was devastated.
Guerrero – standing only 10 feet away from Litzau on the other side of a velvet curtain, which might as well have put the two worlds apart when comparing the sadness and satisfaction emanating from opposite sides of the room – had used brains and brawn to move on.
