In the second round a sneaky punch from Terrence Crawford put Errol Spence Jr. on the canvas. It was the first time Spence had ever been down as a professional fighter, and the expression on his face was like that of a child caught doing something naughty, with all of the inherent guilt, shame, and surprise that you'd expect from a kid who had never been caught before.
He managed to get up, sheepishly, but there was a sense that Crawford had just shown him who was boss. It was a simple message, sent directly on the wings of a lightning right uppercut as Spence was leaning in. For the next several rounds the same scene continued to play out, with Crawford catching Spence with similar sneaky shots. It was as if no matter what Spence tried, Crawford had a quick answer for him.
Spence was knocked down twice more in the seventh. By then his face was swollen from Crawford's consistently well-placed counters. The fight was finally stopped at 2:32 of the ninth, with Spence still on his feet but taking too much punishment. The so-called "Fight of the Year," "Fight of the Century," "Fight of the Epoch," was over, and it had been none of the above. Rather, it had been a dismantling.
There was now hope that Terrence Crawford, a quiet practitioner of this ancient combat sport, would get the recognition that has eluded him. Sure, there were a lot of welterweight title belts at stake last night in Las Vegas, but the value of boxing belts is dubious these days, even if you have filled a closet with them. For the man known simply as "Bud," the fight was about being acknowledged as the best of his era.
Though he showed he could take a loss like a gentleman, Spence proved little else in what was his first defeat in 29 bouts.
Spence looked befuddled throughout. He was hardly the electrifying battler we've watched for several years. He wast more like a clumsy, outclassed journeyman being led to his doom by a relaxed and confident ring general.
The event was heralded as the first "super fight" of its type in decades, with two undefeated titleholders clashing for dominance. Yet there were some major differences in comparison to big bouts of the past. For one, we weren't bludgeoned daily with announcements of the fighters' paychecks. In the old days, the massive paydays of major championship fights were part of the promotion, so us average Joes at home could speculate about how many punches we'd take for a few million bucks. This time, the paydays were only hinted at, as if to speak of such things was gauche.
And despite the endless talk about the "importance" of the fight, there was a lack of pageantry going into the contest. Las Vegas had its usual big fight ambience but not more so - a strangely subdued Mike Tyson oversaw a coin toss to decide which fighter would enter the ring first, and Eminem, a somewhat faded rap artist, accompanied Spence for his ring walk - but outside of Dallas and Omaha, the respective hometowns of Spence and Crawford, the fight was virtually a secret event. Sports Illustrated all but ignored it, placing YouTube celebrity Jake Paul on the cover during fight week. SI lacks the clout it once had, but putting Paul on the cover shows us where boxing stands at this time in history.
In a way, it was a fight fan's fight dressed up as mainstream event, as if some Hollywood studio had picked an interesting independent movie and decided to market it like a summer blockbuster. It is not an insult to say Crawford and Spence aren't magnetic personalities. Spence tries a little bit. Crawford doesn't bother. Neither man could liven up a party. Yet for hardcore fans, this was the fight they'd waited years to see. They didn't get the great contest they may have expected, but they witnessed a great performance from Crawford.
It has already been compared by some to the best nights of the two Sugar Rays, Leonard and Robinson, but hyperbole of that type is not needed. Crawford proved himself to be a master of his profession, a brilliant strategist with a magical right hand. Comparing him to Ray Robinson would probably embarrass the man.
"I showed poise, I showed smarts, I got the job done," Crawford told ESPN after his victory. "They've got to give me my credit now. '"
If anyone thinks Crawford created some kind of blueprint to defeat Spence, they'd be mistaken. To understand that Crawford beat Spence with perfect timing, finely parceled aggression, and with a right uppercut that seemed guided by the gods is one thing, but to try to execute that strategy yourself is quite another. Any opponent thinking Spence is now an easy target would be wrong, and they'd probably be whipped if they tried to emulate what Crawford did on July 29 at the T-Mobile Arena. .
In a period that broadcasters obnoxiously refer to as "the four belt era," Crawford has won belts from all four sanctioning bodies in two separate weight classes, an impressive feat that almost makes one forget how stupid it is that the boxing business has become so fractured.
Crawford's greatness has nothing to do with the gimcrack belts draped across his body, but everything to do with his style. Few fighters have ever terrorized opponents with such basic execution of the fundamentals. Alexis Arguello used to do it. And Marvelous Marvin Hagler. And yes, Robinson. Crawford is a throwback. He's like a fighter from the distant past, coming back to show a new generation how to do this thing. He's 40-0, with 32 knockouts. He's won his last 11 in a row by KO. He will be 36 his next birthday. We probably saw him at his fighting peak last night.
Spence has already talked about a rematch, but he's a brash young guy. Crawford would beat him again. Besides, the contest didn't really elevate the sport to any degree. To the general public, it was just another fight. A run-of-the-mill UFC show that took place in Utah on the same night trended longer and higher on social media. If Crawford is the king, he reigns over an empire that has seen better days. Yet his victory will be remembered by those who saw it. It was something for the connoisseur. Long live King Bud.
- Don Stradley
