General Santos City, Philippines has had world boxing publicity of another lefty unconventional brand before the climb for Manny “Pac Man” Pacquiao, 39-2-2, 31 KO’s, ascension to the 130-pound weight category facing off against Erik “The Terrible” Morales, 47-2, 34 KO’s on March 19, 2005. Pacquiao, by virtue of becoming a junior lightweight, has matched his own sights set forgone to another championship type caliber fighter known in the past from his hometown in General Santos City. This diminutive left-handed hurdler named Rolando, fought in his most natural super featherweight class, and in my opinion, gave a 1982 “Fight of The Year” greater run for their money.
Rolando Navarrete, 54-15-3, 31 KO’s, came from General Santos City, and became etched in the American consciousness nationally lifting Ugandan Cornelius Boza-Edwards’ WBC Super Featherweight Championship back on August 29th 1981. I saw his following defense January 16th 1982 against the Korean Chung-Il Choi for his first defense, and was most impressed by his reserved round by round pacing and gradual strength gaining as the rounds mounted up. Navarrete convinced me that he was going to be one tough fighter to defeat while he had the WBC belt, looking evermore like the lion hearted champion he was to be.
At home he had comic book caricatures about him, loads of publicity on the screen, and an abundance of movie offers. You’d have to take a closer look on what’s led to all of this along the way. You see Rolando had in fact beaten long strings of 130 LBS contenders with huge reputations.
He came up questionable in 1979 with a draw against tough Thanomchit Sukhothai; and even knocked out a fighter named Jerome Artis in March of 1980, a fighter not easy to KO, if not impossible to, and that was followed up to his TKO loss to legendary Alexis Arguello to rap the 1980-year up for April. However his 1981 return brought him to light with his wins over Johnny Sato and Blaine Dickson. Sato’s win got him the NABF Super Feather Championship.
1982 was a year that would live on in infamy by countless amounts of exciting matches; at all gyroscopes colliding rhythmically throughout the whole world, equally with every entire weight division assembled on earth. It also culminated a new coronation to mark its time like a baseball season winds up the year for the next. If you were to ask me what that one lone World Series Game of Boxing was, then I’d have to say it was the Rafael “Bazooka” Limon Vs Rolando Navarrete fight.
Junior Lightweight NABF Champion Rafael “Bazooka” Limon, 52-23-2, 39 KO’s, climbed with his well-known notoriety in four stellar Bobby Chacon fights. Losing to Alexis Arguello after the first Chacon fight ended in a draw. In 1979, Limon then lost the rematch the following year with Bobby Chacon by a split decision over ten rounds.
1980 was a bittersweet year for Limon. He took it all in stride and whittled away at the bark which had gotten to the hub of the artist’ workshop. Still the NABF Champion he displayed the patience of a surgeon in taking apart, on national TV, Idelfonso Bethelmy on a cold December day in 1980. Before that he served to remind us about his hot July knockout over Frankie Baltazar that he wasn’t taking any piggyback rides on his own time. Limon was awkward in stance, but what a bolo-punch exploiter to the max! He’s thrown deep-dish rangier uppercuts in the narrowest of margins finding the mark. Pulling you in like a fish being reeled into the selections. Limon had the one thing that many fighters did not have to go with his assorted roundhouse bolos. He held defiance as an in your face kind of style and attitude, with an above average lateral mobility which made him the world’s best and busiest escape artist. Once Bazooka Limon imposed his authority to slug, chances are your body was already being battered overtime to the degree of destruction.
Limon looked lanky; sometimes even clumsy throwing punches, but make no mistake about those vaunted rib slicing blows that he would bring from way behind and yonder from his favorite bowling ball like throwing arm. No better replica for that demonstration could be more eminent then a willing confrontation for slugging percentages and spiteful teeing off irreconcilably sakes. On May 29th 1982, Limon abandoned all defense by accelerating his offense keeping WBC Junior Lightweight Champion Rolando Navarrete on his most urgent offensive threat by the valor of two battering rams. It was the biggest war of attrition placing boxing smarts to a neutral gear, for the engines to start exactly like they started, without as much as a warning, warming up to be pelting each other from pillar to post. Limon’s stark body attacks were savage and as direct in listening to them land broadband onto Navarrete’s kidneys, that at one point even whilst watching it on TV, you had to look away from the degree his sides were being worked on. Rolando fought his spirited attack back with lead cross lefts and coming up short taking two for one below. He’d reserve every last ounce of strength for matching Limon’s volume punching.
When Navarrete boxed, he looked better taking the first half of the rounds, but seldom evaded the Bazooka initiated onslaughts for the last minute, and that made the difference in their fight. Bazooka’s major guns to the body along with a pesky jab found Navarrete tenderized, and deployed more polished punishing punches through the champs guard in mid-sectioned split uppercuts and pulverizing crosses to leave him slumped on his can unable to withstand the ultimate battering. Limon, jubilant and smiling, was lifted onto his corners arms in that late 12th round debilitating and defining knockout over Navarrete. Limon was tall, lanky, perhaps awkward to watch, but oh what a body punching he was.
Erik Morales looks tall, perhaps maybe even as gawky looking as Limon was. Manny Pacquiao strikes similarities with his shared compatriot Navarrete in bravery. Morales may abandon caution to debate whether Manny can take his assaults as people believe he is capable of doing. Pacquiao might miscalculate so in the theory about throwing himself into Morales’ arsenal to test some of those patterns in assortments of good-gloved leather. There is a more striking resemblance for Morales here. He has the propensity to make a slightly better than average fight into a great one. I have never seen him in any cowered position in any fight. We aren’t talking about his sportsmanship after the Barrera fight, but for the actual accounts about him inside the ring. I have had a lot of time reflecting some of these questions as well on Manny Pacquiao’s plight into the ranks. If I had one lone incident that I had to pick up during November 2001 when he was expected to override his newer found popularity here, it would have to be the Agapito Sanchez fight. If an expression were worth a thousand words, it would have to be the one Pacquiao left on his sudden concerned facial features after that fifth round, rounded by the technical draw in six for me. When Sanchez and he clashed heads accidentally, I’ve seen Pacquiao’s eyes weren’t having the same attack with impunity that they had a round or two earlier; and I read more in those dark pair of eyes that were thinking on contracts and superstardom beyond everything else. This dimension, though as short lived through many of the memories about the most astute in boxing society, cannot be totally dismissed by me. Certainly a spirited reincarnation of Navarrete-Limon could not be overruled, or could it?
