Since its early days, the Junior Flyweight division has been filled with a number of interesting match-ups that never took place. During the early 1980’s, we could have had a fight between Hilario Zapata, a tall master boxer, and Lupe Madera, a tough Mexican with a penchant for brawling. It never happened. Television networks, particularly HBO, had begun to dominate the boxing scene, and they were not about to put together a fight that interested their main customer base, Americans, as much as an Indian cricket match.
Things began to change for the Junior Flyweights late in the 1980s, when a young, strong man from Phoenix, Arizona, named Michael Carbajal, fought in the Seoul Olympics, winning a Silver Medal after one of the most atrocious mistakes in Olympic history was committed when Carbajal was handed an unjustified defeat at the hands of a South Korean by Olympic boxing judges. That he lost that fight helped him in the long run, because he became one of America’s so called darlings. His defeat also helped the Jr. Flyweights on the long run, bringing the division the kind of attention it had yearned from for years in the United States. Carbajal made his professional boxing debut in the opening television fight of the Roberto Duran versus Iran Barkley undercard. It couldn’t have happened at a better time. Duran and Barkley fought a classic war. Carbajal was seen by millions of boxing fans around the world. Later came the IBF world title and his first fight with Humberto Gonzalez, a fight which demonstrated the multiple reasons for which we should pay attention to the little flies. Although their subsequent rematches demonstrated why we are not so fond of small fighters, their first fight was a classic that will probably stand in time forever. Even the Strawweight division, which was created during the 1990’s, had their own super fight, when WBC champion Ricardo Lopez made WBO counterpart Alex Sanchez look like a plain tortilla during five rounds of punishment.
So now we find ourselves with the current situation in the Junior Flyweight division. We have two wonderful little fighters who can emulate Zapata, Madera, Carbajal and Gonzalez. And they both seem destined to have Hall of Fame careers, having been on the winning route each time they have stepped into the roped square. They are Puerto Rico’s Ivan Calderon and Hawaii’s Brian Viloria. Calderon has Miguel Canto like skills and defense, which would make him the boxer (like Zapata and Gonzalez) among these two tiny warriors. Viloria, with 12 knockouts in 19 bouts, is like a Jr. Flyweight version of Pipino Cuevas or Felix Trinidad. He would fit in very well in the roles that Madera and Carbajal once had.
The two had to face different opponents a few weeks ago. Viloria had arguably the hardest task, because his opponent, Jose Antonio Aguirre, is a former WBC Straw weight champion. Regardless, they both won. And since things went along as expected; a Pandora’s Box has been put in front of boxing fans.
Calderon has more than spoken his mouth off, to the Puerto Rican press at least, about wanting to unify his WBO belt with the other championships available. Given his attitude, he would be more than willing to fight Viloria. Viloria, on the other hand, is a fearless puncher who believes he will dominate his division for years to come. Both fighters have large, local fan bases. If boxing organizations like the WBC and WBO suddenly want to show fans that they actually do make sense sometimes, this would be the perfect time to do so.
But of course, whenever the WBA, WBC, IBF, WBO and the other, smaller organizations that make our sport agonize today make a decision, expecting something that makes sense is the most senseless act a boxing fan can commit. After all, these were the organizations that let Sugar Ray Leonard and Ray Mancini fight for titles straight after announcing their respective three year retirements from boxing almost 20 years ago. Trying to understand these world championship groups for a boxing fan is as easy as trying to understand why people of certain tribes eat something that came out of a crocodile or an elephant.
And there lies one of the biggest problems to make Calderon against Viloria happen, at least this year. WBO champions have been beating other organizations’ titleholders for years. After all, Michael Moorer, Marco Antonio Barrera, Naseem Hamed, Oscar De La Hoya, Johnny Tapia and many others were champions in the WBO before they went on to beat WBC, WBA and IBF champs, but for a reason only a rocket scientist could understand, the WBC and WBO still refuse to pit their belt holders against each other. Whether a WBO champion deserves to be considered a world champion or not is to everyone’s opinion, but the fact is WBO champions have beaten champions from the other, often called major groups, many times.
Should Calderon against Viloria take place, Calderon would have to be in extremely good condition. The Iron Boy is no Iron Mike. He relies on his ability to slip punches and box from a distance to deflate his opponents’ hopes. Viloria, on the other hand, is like Wilfredo Gomez or Iron Mike himself. He pressures his opponents until they are so worn out that they can no longer go on, or simply give away the last few rounds to a lion in constant search of his prey. But he also has one punch power, and many of his rivals have been sent to dream land early in his fights. This matchup could bring us a masterpiece such as a Monet painting, or a slam such as a Tyson ending.
If Calderon is not caught by a good punch early against Viloria, he would definitely enjoy an advantage over the Hawaiian Punch, because Calderon has fought the distance in almost every one of his fights. The problem for him is that, in order for that to happen, he would have to survive boxing’s Jr. flyweight version of a hurricane. And given the fact that Viloria is from Hawaii, a tropical paradise, this comparison seems rather proper for him.
There are the intangibles, always so needed for boxing fans to get interested in a particular match. Can Calderon act like Willie Pep and take the best that a murderous puncher has for twelve rounds and avoid getting knocked out? Or does Viloria have the Salvador Sanchez type of conditioning where he can give and take for twelve (in Sanchez’s case, fifteen actually) rounds without getting tired? Perhaps most importantly, will the sanctioning bodies allow us to find out?
