Friday night at the Talking Stick Resort Casino in Phoenix, Arizona, in a fight streamed live on DAZN in the US and on Sky Sports in the UK, Julio Cesar Chavez Jr. (51-4-1, 33 KOs), the former WBC middleweight titleholder from Culiacan, Jalisco, Mexico, quit on his stool at the end of round five, pulling a “No mas” versus former two-time middleweight champion Daniel Jacobs (36-3, 30 KOs), the “Miracle Man” from Brooklyn, New York.
Fighting out of the red corner in blue and gold trunks with dyed platinum hair with blue streaks, Chavez looked like an aging punk rocker or overeater, a cruiserweight bursting at the seams from too many rich meals. He wasn’t just a different weight class than Jacobs. He was on another planet. He had just been socked with a one million dollar fine for failing to make weight for the fight; a third of his $3 million purse went to Jacobs. Chavez received a special dispensation so he could fight Jacobs, waving a prohibition against fight for having flunked a recent drug test.
Chavez Jr. had fought one round in two and half years before fighting Friday. He had no ring rust, but was poorly prepared and prepped to underperform. Hordes fight fans still love him. He’s a rock star in certain districts, like in Tucson, Arizona, where his fans cheered wildly when he appeared. They cheered whenever he landed. They cheered when he threw blows. They cheered when he missed punches.
Jacobs, fighting out of the blue corner in white trunks with blue trim, is the consummate pro. He’s always prepared. He’s always in shape. He’s smart and has a game plan. He came to Phoenix to hit and not get hit, and Chavez was his foil. Jacobs is faster than Chavez. He is more seasoned and composed under duress. He avoids extending himself. He is clever and steals rounds when no one’s looking.
Chavez maneuvers well for a man his size. He moves his head. He has heavy hands. He has a magic name and his father’s blood in his veins. Like his father, the original Julio Cesar Chavez, Chavez Jr. fought like a bull in the bullring. Jacobs was the matador. El Toro made a good first impression. He was trying to knock Jacobs down. Barreling forward, fists pumping, putting his superior size and strength to good use, Chavez kept it interesting initially. Then the huffing and puffing began. In round three he was flagging. He was gassed by the fourth.
Jacobs broke Chavez’s nose in round five. You could almost hear it crack—and it was a gusher. Chavez immediately stopped fighting. He was too busy bleeding to fight. A cameraman scanned over to Chavez Sr. sitting ringside. He was watching his son fight a moment ago. Now he buried his face in his hands. The referee asked Chavez Jr. if he wanted to continue. He said no…and it was “No mas” redux. It took Roberto Duran 20 years to his rebuild after his “No mas” fiasco against Sugar Ray Leonard. Chavez’s “No mas” wasn’t that bad. Less was expected of him and it seems he delivered. The crowd turned on Chavez at once. So did the announcers. They denounced him on the air, calling him names, rabble rousing, riling the crowd, who responded by throwing whatever was at hand to throw at the fighters. The announcers said Chavez might have broken his hand. Freddie Roach said, “He broke his nose and couldn’t breathe.”
Mexican warriors don’t quit in the ring. It distorts the natural order. The crowd felt betrayed and wanted revenge. Then Mickey Rourke appeared in Chavez’s corner, to rescue the fighter and put in an appearance. Dressed to the nines in a bespoke tunic that was old-timey and futuristic, with every golden hair in place, the award winning actor has muscles on top of muscles and a plastic surgeon’ s dream face, Mickey Rourke appeared to enjoy the riot—a stark contrast to collapsed heap called Chavez Jr. Several security guards surrounded the fighter. After a brief discussion, they formed a phalanx around Chavez Jr. and ran through the angry crowd. The guards used round cards to shield Chavez Jr. from being pelted with garbage.
After the fight, Chavez Jr. blamed Jacobs for the loss.
“It was a very good fight. I was getting close but got headbutted above the left eye. Then I had problems because of all the blood. I came over to the corner and couldn’t breathe. He elbowed me, and headbutted me. Very tough fight, I felt I couldn’t go ‘cause I couldn’t breathe properly. The ref wasn’t calling anything.”
True to form, the quitter said, “I’d love to have a rematch. I got headbutted, he fought a dirty fight, and didn’t even take a point away. He would have been able to continue doing the dirty work.”
