“It’s not the size of the dog in the fight but rather the size of the fight in the dog.”
… Old but true bromide by the late Arthur G. Lewis in defense of hopeful underdogs.
LAS VEGAS — Terence Crawford, the best boxer on the planet, never met the late Mr. Lewis, but on Saturday night, he was living, breathing proof that for whatever else there was to say about him, he knew what the hell he was talking about.
On Saturday night, much of this gambler’s town was convinced Crawford was going into a fight against Canelo Álvarez that he could not possibly win. How could he?
This town has more casinos than health food stores. Crawford was an underdog in every one of them. He was moving up two weight classes to fight Álvarez at 168 pounds. Álvarez was a natural super middleweight, giving him a size and strength advantage. Álvarez was a far more powerful puncher. Yes, Crawford (41-0) had never lost, but he had never fought above 154 pounds.
Then the bell rang at Allegiant Stadium.
That’s when the little guy Crawford morphed into a fighter with a four-alarm fire raging in his guts, a chess master with the ability to carry out a brilliant long-range planned tactical fight and with enough of both to cuff Álvarez all over the joint for 12 rounds. Judges Tim Cheatham and Max DeLuca awarded Crawford (42-0, 31 knockouts) the match 115-113 and Steve Weisfeld 116-112.
After four rounds, this fight was essentially over. On my scorecard, they split the first four and then several things made it clear that Crawford was just not going to lose.
First, you cannot hit (at least not often) what you can’t find, and Crawford was an elusive target. Second, he wasn’t backing off. He was always in position to punch because he was in command of the geography of the ring and secure in the fact that Álvarez didn’t seem to realize that Crawford actually had the longer reach. Crawford choreographed when and where each exchange took place. Crawford won virtually every exchange. Álvarez’s swollen face became exhibit one.
Going in, the drama centered around whether Crawford, the smaller guy, could handle Álvarez’s power. As the rounds melted away, it became clear that Álvarez’s power was neutralized by quicker footwork, accurate punching power by Crawford and during the exchanges, it became Álvarez’s one against Crawford’s two or three.
That happens when an underdog carries the right chip on his shoulder. Crawford’s confidence grew and grew. And so did the uneasiness of the sizeable crowd of Mexican fans who came to celebrate the upcoming observation of Mexican Independence Day, which is normally when Álvarez almost always fights in their honor. But this was Álvarez they had never seen. He was slower, landed far fewer punches against Crawford’s master plan. Even his multitude of supporters could sense that his cloak of invincibility was slipping away.
And he knew it. He offered no excuses, but in his post-fight interview, it was clear that he knew he could not make a case to change the perception that on this night he was out-punched, out-maneuvered and out-worked.
What took the anticipated drama out of the evening was the fact that round after round, Álvarez slipped further behind. There was no thought generated by the roar of the crowd that an incredible rally was just a two- or three-punch combination away. At no time did Álvarez punch with authority. At no time was there a thought about an explosive finish. Crawford is not that kind of fighter, and he took away every advantage most folks thought Canelo had.
In fairness, as the post-mortems of this stunning upset are analyzed and re-analyzed, there is one thought that should never be permitted to slip away. The fault was not in Álvarez. The truth was that Crawford knew that the technical difference between winning and losing this fight was the boxing IQ of Crawford.
Because of the documented punching power of Álvarez, the winning formula was the knowledge that Crawford could not afford to make a single mistake. Incredibly, over 12 rounds and 36 minutes, he did not make one.
Even during the rounds in this moment of truth against a dangerous champion like Álvarez, Crawford fought the perfect fight with no margin for error.
Even Sugar Ray Robinson (the historically conceded all-time best of men their size ) couldn’t have done it better.
