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Chris Arreola, Carl Frampton, and Julio Cesar Chavez, JR’s Stars Shine Not So Terribly Bright Deep in the Heart of Texas

boxingringheaderBy Chris “Man of Few Words” Benedict

Seeing as though El Paso, Texas is a quick, one-mile hop, skip, and a jump from Ciudad Juarez, assuming you are capable of any of those activities after a tequila or twelve, the Don Haskins Center provided the perfect setting for a handful of Mexican-born fighters to make their mark and/or play the spoiler on two separate cards this past Saturday.

Born and fighting out of Los Angeles, Mexican American heavyweight contender Chris Arreola was hoping to put on a dominant enough performance against Fred Kassi on the Premier Boxing Champions CBS Sports Spectacular to muscle his way into a September title shot at Deontay Wilder. While few question Arreola’s heart, his physique is quite another matter, a torso where tattoos and flab fight for pride (or lack thereof) of place. The love handles spilling over the waistband of his trunks suggest that Chris’ roadwork may be mapped out on the route dotted with the most Dunkin’ Donuts. Arreola’s diet and training regimen, it goes without saying, have proven dubious at best and seem to have once again contributed to a lost opportunity. Already twice unlucky at world championship bids, Arreola was beaten into a bloody submission by Vitali Klitschko in 2009 before a home crowd at the Staples Center and was TKOd last May (also in LA) by Bermane Stiverne who would, of course, proceed to lose his new WBC belt to Wilder. A third and potentially last chance for the 34 year-old Arreola may well have been blown by a generous majority draw which saw one scorecard ponderously tallied in his favor, despite Kassi being the more active and productive puncher throughout their 10-rounder. Arreola must now reconfigure his immediate future while

Deontay Wilder decides on another challenger for September before hopefully fighting to unify the heavyweight titles with the winner of October’s Klitschko/Fury showdown. Frampton Comes Alive is not only the title of a beloved classic rock album, but also was the theme of the PBC main event from the second round forward. Alejandro Gonzalez Jr. appeared to be well on his way to smearing a blood-spattered blemish across the perfect record (20-0) of Carl Frampton, who was making his U. S. debut and defending his IBF world super-bantamweight title. Frampton, already a legend of sorts in Ireland and Great Britain, is the protege of former world featherweight champion Barry McGuigan and is trained by his son Shane, both of whom looked on in stunned disbelief as “The Jackal” was floored twice by the tough Gonzalez in the first round. Having tasted canvas for the first time in his career, what remained to be seen was how Carl would proceed to get the taste out of his mouth. A stiff and consistent left jab followed by right hooks and uppercuts proved to be Frampton’s palette cleansers, leading him to an ultimately dominant yet dissatisfying unanimous decision. Taking nothing away from Gonzalez, Frampton admitted to being depleted from having to balance the scales at 122 pounds, hinting at a potential move to featherweight.

Speaking of making weight, Julio Cesar Chavez, JR. failed to do so for his Showtime headliner against fellow Mexican middleweight Marco Reyes. Like Chris Arreola, disciplinary shortcomings have haunted Julio, JR., and continue to keep him from proving that he belongs in the deep end of the Chavez gene pool, not confined to the kiddie section. Clearly exhibiting the ill effects of excess flesh, not to mention the drubbing sustained at the hands of Andrzej Fonfara ninety days ago and the ring rust collected during the 13-month layoff which preceded that, Chavez, JR. predictably chugged slowly out of the gate and was outworked by Reyes’ clearly busier hands. Julio did pick up a head of steam and landed the majority of effective power punches, earning the points win, if not credibility or respectability within the boxing community.

So, while the thrills and chills of Texas Chainsaw Massacre proportion may have been absent from the bouts in El Paso, they did provide viewers the spectacle of a dream come undone, a nerve-jangling flirtation with disaster, and a humdrum ending you could see coming from across the border.

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