The Ballad of Tim Tszyu

The Ballad of Tim Tszyu

GuyWhoLikesSport

Boxing is everyone’s favourite sport. They just don’t know it yet.

Max Kellerman has long made that point.

Imagine you walked up to an intersection and a different sport is played on each of the four corners. On one corner there’s basketball, on another corner there’s tennis, on a third they’re playing footy, on the fourth corner they’re fighting.

Which one are you watching? Which one is everyone else watching? Everyone’s watching the fight.

That was true of my Easter.

I told my family that I had to get the Tszyu fight, and it was met largely by shrugs.

When the fight started, we hadn’t had lunch yet but pasta was on and you could smell the beef cheek ragu ever more strongly as the fighters stepped into the ring.

“Look at the size of that guy!” one of my cousins exclaimed of Fundora.

My sister decided that the Aussie had no chance immediately.

When the fight started it was my partner, my cousin, and I all watching the fight, though the other two were on their phones and only vaguely paying attention.

In the first two rounds, Fundora was fighting against type. He tried to use his ridiculous reach and keep Tszyu on the end of his jab.

However, you could tell that he wasn’t comfortable doing it as Tszyu found his way inside of Fundora’s range and his right hand found a home careening into Fundora’s nose and midriff time and again. He also remained responsible defensively, moving his head effectively, completely neutralising Fundora’s jab with good lead hand and foot placement, and generally seeing Fundora’s punches like beach balls.

Over the first 5 minutes and 59 seconds, it looked like an easy fight for Tszyu.

My sister had changed her tune and decided that it was a boring fight because Tszyu was “obviously going to win”.

Then at the end of round 2, Tszyu just missed a counter left hook and fell into Fundora’s pointy elbow.

It was an accident, but one that changed the comportment of the fight entirely.

Tszyu fought for the rest of the night with a cut that looked deep enough to get down to his skull. Fundora had broken his nose from one of Tszyu’s atomic right hands and blood was pouring into his mouth.

A bloody war had broken out.

Nobody was looking at their phone anymore. The charisma of Tim Tszyu’s sheer toughness was impossible to ignore.

“What the fuck, they can’t let him fight” my partner exclaimed as they showed blood pouring into Tszyu’s eye.

My cousin felt sick, and he was confident it wasn’t the zeppole we had for breakfast.

My sister left.

Tszyu remained calm in the corner but looked at the ref with and ringside physician with the fire of 1,000 suns as they debated whether to let him continue into round 3. The shake of the head from the doctor seemed to signal the end of the fight, but they let Tszyu continue where they probably shouldn’t have.

That they allowed Tszyu to continue is an indication of the level of star that he is. It reminded me of the cut that Fury sustained vs Otto Wallin. They let the bigger star continue to the end of the bout in that fight, just as they did in this one.

Tszyu also would have been within his rights to stop after the second round. In fact, his corner should have stepped in and stopped it. Blood was pouring into his eye, and he couldn’t see. After round 2, he would have got a no-contest. After round 4, we would have gone to the cards and probably got a draw.

But that just isn’t in his DNA.

Fundora’s jab, which was once rendered ineffective by Tszyu’s movement and lead hand placement, was now extremely effective because Tszyu couldn’t fucking see it. Fundora clearly won rounds 3 and 4.

It was a mix of awe and horror in a room with two others who don’t watch boxing and me, who hasn’t been this invested in a fighter’s career maybe ever.

Lunch was ready at the end of round 8. After round 4, Tszyu continued to land hard shots through a red mist.

It was the first time that beef cheek ragu has ever come second to anything.

The only acknowledgement of the cut was Tszyu wiping the blood out of his eye for a split second of respite. He never panicked and, while Fundora was busier, Tszyu continued to land the harder shots and started to time Fundora’s work even though he couldn’t see.

Not that you heard any of that from some the absurdly biased commentary from Abner Mares in particular, who, incidentally, wasn’t fit to carry Tim Tszyu’s bags as a fighter.

On a rewatch I had Tszyu winning rounds 1, 2, 5, 6, 11 and 12 for a draw. He clearly lost rounds 3 and 4 as he adjusted to the cut, but after that he showed significant heart and every single one of the last 8 rounds was close.

An argument could be made that Tszyu won the fight because he landed the heavier shots compared to Fundora peppering out his jab and not doing much else else.

I had it a draw, but any close result was a reasonable one. This was not a robbery.

What the fight did show, however, was a lack of experience from Tszyu’s corner. His cut man, Mark Gambin, needs to be a replaced. It remined me of Tyson v Douglas where Tyson’s corner didn’t even bring ice packs.

With a better cut man, Tszyu wins that fight because he’s able to see out of both of his eyes. Gambin appeared just to be putting Vaseline on the cut and wiping away blood in the corner, despite the report from Jordan Plant that he had “all of the correct medicines”.

I’m not a doctor but I’m pretty sure the correct medicines don’t allow blood to piss out unimpeded for 10 rounds.

There was also a lack of experience from his management. Tszyu took on all the risk by fighting Fundora on just 12 days’ notice and should have confirmed a rematch clause in case Tszyu lost. However, after the fight Fundora’s promoter said that there was no rematch clause in writing, and they were unlikely to honour a verbal agreement.

Based on the first two rounds where Tszyu had two working eyes, Tszyu wins a rematch in violent fashion. He only lost because of an accidental elbow. His management should have known there is no honour in boxing and should have made certain that Tszyu had a rematch clause.

But that isn’t the point of this piece. If Tszyu has to walk through some other poor bastard before he’s allowed to get his belts back, so be it. His dad had to do it after his loss to Vince Phillips, and it looks like Tim will have to do it now.

The point is what Tszyu, through his sheer toughness, was able to do. He brought casuals together to watch boxing. I thought those days were long gone. But there will always be something about boxing. You can’t help but watch when you have a fighter that is so tough. So unperturbed by adversity. So willing to walk into a raging fire without a whiff of panic.

Tszyu lost a close fight. It happens. He’ll be back.

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