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When Bernard Hopkins was my age, he was not only still boxing professionally, but he was in fact winning light heavyweight unification fights. So I have no excuse. But the sad fact is, I am washed.
A few weeks ago, I went to a movie that started at 11 a.m. and fell asleep 20 minutes in. My stomach is a disaster that turns any drive home from a restaurant into a sweaty race against the clock. About a half-dozen times a year, I throw out my back sneezing. My flexibility is shot, to the point that putting on socks requires deliberate calculation of angles and distances (especially if I’ve recently thrown out my back sneezing).
But, hey. It could be worse. The getting-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-to-pee thing hasn’t started yet.
Anyway, as I wrap up my first year in the BoxingScene/ProBox family, I find myself reflecting on the year that was and hoping that I’ve proven I’m not totally washed as a writer. And that was no sure thing when I linked up with editor Tris Dixon and this outstanding crew here. For the prior decade or so, I’d semi-retired from writing about the sport to focus on podcasting about it, and those different mediums require different mental muscles. But here I am, having cranked out two columns and/or features every week about this sublimely ridiculous, ridiculously sublime sport of ours and … well, they haven’t all been winners, but I feel like my CompuBoxingScene connect percentage has been respectable.
And as the first year of my boxing writing comeback concludes, I’ve decided to introduce a new tradition that will hopefully be repeated for as many years as I am able to parry the punches of that bully Father Time. Welcome to the first annual Raskies, an awards column that honors the best, worst, and weirdest of the year that was, courtesy of BoxingScene’s washed-est of scribes. Below you’ll see some of the same year-end categories that appear everywhere else (including on this very site over the next several days, although perhaps with different winners), and quite a few year-end categories you won’t find anywhere else.
And with that, let’s get to the 2024 Raskies:
Fighter of the year: Oleksandr Usyk. No explanation or justification needed. Even an AI version of C.J. Ross could get the score right on this one.
Fighter of the year if Usyk had failed to defeat Tyson Fury a second time: This would have been close between Daniel Dubois (KO 8 Filip Hrgovic, KO 5 Anthony Joshua) and Jesse “Bam” Rodriguez (KO 7 Juan Francisco Estrada, KO 3 Pedro Guevara) — though they’re both perhaps lucky that Naoya Inoue’s scheduled third fight of 2024 got postponed. In the end, I have to go with Dubois, who was the betting underdog going into both of his spectacular wins.
Strangest story of the year: Again, a close call between two evenly matched contenders — both on the women’s side of the sport. The runner-up: the Sandy Ryan red paint attack, which remains a mystery (denying me and my dad-joke enthusiast colleague David Greisman all the “caught red handed” quips we’ve been sitting on). But taking home the Raskie: Amanda “The Real Deal” Serrano having to back out of her main event fight at quite literally the last minute — with opponent Nine Meinke waiting in the ring — on account of “corneal damage due to hair products.” That’s definitely something boxing’s other famous “Real Deal” never had to worry about.
Shortest-lived name change of the year: Anyone remember when Gervonta Davis was reborn as Abdul Wahid?
Fight of the year: Again I was torn between two options — neither of which seems to be getting much year-end awards support from my boxing media brethren. The Raskie goes to Raymond Ford vs. Otabek Kholmatov on March 2, a spectacular battle in which Ford entered round 12 needing a knockout to win and got one with seven seconds left on the clock. And in a close second place — and perhaps I’m grading on a curve due to my low expectations — Derek Chisora’s July 27 decision win over Joe Joyce in a brutal slugfest that put the “slobber” in “slobberknocker.” (And if they should rematch in a few years when they’re both a bit flabbier, maybe then they’ll put the “knockers” in “slobberknockers.”)
The Jennifer Grey’s nose-job career self-sabotage award: Referee Tony Weeks, not for his premature stoppage of Vergil Ortiz vs. Frederick Lawson (although that wasn’t great for Weeks’ career), but for jumping on Facebook soon after and trying to explain away his actions by sharing private, unsubstantiated medical information about Lawson’s brain scan. The Facebook post was quickly deleted. But a Raskie is forever.
The all-is-right-with-the-world award: Boxer Anthony Joshua obliterates MMA fighter Francis Ngannou.
The all-is-wrong-with-the-world award: YouTuber Jake Paul gets living legend Mike Tyson’s name on his official boxing record.
Refreshingly honest marketing of the year: The Don King fight poster that included the words, “Broner vs. Cobbs (if Broner shows up).”
Knockout of the year: We saw some sick KOs this year, but for me, none combined violence with drama quite like Lucas Bahdi face-planting undefeated hot prospect Ashton Sylve in the sixth round of a fight Sylve had dominated to that point. My only criticism is that the knockout combination consisted entirely of head punches, totally ruining all of the “Bahdi shot” jokes that Greisman and I were cooking up.
Best argument against AI boxing judges: Usyk 118, Fury 112.
Best argument for AI boxing judges: Take your pick among Robson Conceicao SD 12 O’Shaquie Foster, Johnny Fisher SD 10 David Allen, Natasha Jonas SD 10 Mikaela Mayer, Katie Taylor UD 10 Amanda Serrano, Andres Cortes UD 10 Abraham Nova, and Kenshiro Teraji MD 12 Carlos Canizales.
Most punchable face award: Rolly Romero, for the ninth year running. (He turned pro in 2016.)
Best glow-up: Lennox Lewis, looking better than ever with the shaved head/gray beard combo.
Female fighter of the year: Gabriela Fundora, who stopped Christina Cruz in round 10, won every round on all three scorecards against Daniela Asenjo, viciously KO’d Gabriela Alaniz in the sixth round, and finished the year holding every women’s flyweight belt. She ain’t just Sebastian’s kid sister anymore.
Blood-letting of the year: More Raskie hardware for the Fundora family, as Sebastian Fundora and Tim Tszyu splattered plasma about until they both looked like they’d gone 12 tough rounds with Sandy Ryan’s attacker.
Best boxer performing on HBO: Kali Reis. Maybe on the next season of True Detective, they can arrest some overpaid suits for the murder of HBO Boxing. (Yes, I’m still bitter, six years later.)
The worst-excuse-for-extending-the-evening award: Solid runner-up showings here from Eminem, Liam Gallagher, various national anthems, and assorted car giveaways, but the winner has to be a certain well-funded boxing newbie getting an impromptu induction into the Nevada Boxing Hall of Fame … while in California.
Round of the year: Abdullah Mason-Yohan Vasquez, round 1. Mason may have cost himself Prospect of the Year honors by hitting the canvas twice in the opening round, but he also dropped Vasquez once in the round, and his loss of top prospect recognition is boxing fans’ gain.
Most ironic ring entrance of the year: Teofimo Lopez going with a “Greatest Showman” theme and then being neither great nor a showman vs. Jamaine Ortiz.
The money-is-my-only-motivation award: Saul “Canelo” Alvarez, who, as always, had his pick of opponents and, in 2024, chose Jaime Munguia and Edgar Berlanga.
The money-talks-louder-than-my-matchmakers award: Jared “Big Baby” Anderson, who took an “L” to Martin Bakole in exchange for a big bag of sweet Saudi cash, over the objections of everyone at Top Rank.
Upset of the year: Aside from Fighter of the Year, this is the most obvious of the major awards. It has to be Bruno Surace KO 6 Jaime Munguia. Congrats to Surace on earning the Cinco de Mayo 2025 date with Canelo.
The sometimes-boxing-gets-exactly-what-it-deserves award: The utterly dreadful William Scull-Vladimir Shishkin “title fight.”
The Edgar Berlanga Award for knocking opponents out too quickly for your own good: Moses Itauma.
The same-boxers, same-year, very-different-results award: Frazer Clarke-Fabio Wardley I and Frazer Clarke-Fabio Wardley II.
Comeback fighter of the year: I get wanting to give this to either Daniel Dubois or Joseph Parker, but they both began their current hot streaks in December 2023. So I’m bestowing this honor upon Vergil Ortiz Jr., whose serious health issues kept him out of the ring for the entirety of 2023 and had us wondering if his boxing career was possibly over — only for him to fight three times in 2024 and raise his stock higher than ever.
The boxing death that hit me the hardest award: I know I’m probably supposed to give this to Israel Vazquez, but if I do, I’m not being honest with myself. Nope. This Raskie goes to Carl Weathers. RIP, Count of Monte Fisto.
Widest gap between how bad-ass he is and how bad-ass his name sounds: Dakota Linger, who, despite sounding like a female stripper crossed with a Cranberries ballad, scored an upset knockout of Kurt Scoby in April.
Dirtiest fighter of the year: It takes a washed writer to know a dirty fighter, and nobody was dirtier than Esteuri Suero against Floyd Schofield. Suero lost a point for lifting Schofield’s leg in a clinch, lost another for a light body-slam, and then got DQ’d for a blatant low blow. Still, you could argue Suero is making progress; in a 2023 fight, he lost one point for a low blow and two for biting.
Event of the year: In the spirit of the Time magazine Person of the Year, which can go to a steaming pile of excrement as long as that excrement wielded great influence, the final Raskie of this column goes to Jake Paul vs. Mike Tyson. If ever an event in boxing deserved to be recognized with the four words “for better or worse” attached, it is Paul-Tyson, which attracted gob-smacking attention, semi-crashed Netflix, featured an outstanding undercard, and then proceeded to expose the sorry state of boxing, the sorrier state of humanity and celebrity culture, and the entirety of Tyson’s posterior.
And that brings us to the rear end of the 2024 Raskies. Let’s do it again in 2025, when I will be one year older and more washed, but it won’t matter because this column will be written by the world’s first AI chatbot programmed both to tell dad jokes and score boxing matches (and presumably to do neither particularly well).
Author : admin
Publish date : 2024-12-26 19:33:24
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