Johnny Tapia had been killing himself—off and on, now and then, here and there—for years. Addicted to drugs, to prizefighting, to adrenalin rushes, and, finally, addicted to near-death experiences, Tapia was a junkie in a way that most junkies are not. Like a phoenix he rose from the ashes more often than anyone has a right to. Finally, he got it right. Or Death did. Between his battles with a beckoning grave, Tapia lived between the ropes. Call his sordid life a waste if you want; but for some of us, maybe, it was a gift. From The Cruelest Sport

But Bute’s dilemma is a mirror image of his opponent’s. Whereas Froch’s substantial resume lacks the definitive performance capable of easing the doubts fostered by his erratic style, Bute’s style, and the polished manner in which he demonstrates it, is all that’s providing cover for a resume crying out for a name the calibre of Froch’s. Each man sees the possibility for affirmation in the other. A victory over the undefeated Bute would, in theory, bring Froch’s list of bested foes beyond the point of reproach. And for Bute, a win against an elite opponent-in that opponent’s hometown, no less-would cement his credentials as one of boxing’s truly gifted practitioners. From The Cruelest Sport

For some, Pacquiao’s polarizing gay marriage stance is probably expediting this change in sentiment. To parse the issue in its entirety is more than is required for purposes here. Suffice to say that one’s position on gay marriage is is fundamentally personal. To disagree with Pacquiao is to hold him in opposition to your worldview, your understanding of human worth. Given the ontological significance of the debate, Pacquiao’s opposition to gay marriage is a tipping point, grounds for repositioning oneself in opposition to him. Even those ambivalent about the sport may find themselves forced to choose sides when informed of Pacquiao’s stance. Given that Pacquiao has entered an existential debate, a Bradley victory could be unjustifiably celebrated as a triumph of a particular worldview. From The Cruelest Sport

Ben Foord, perhaps the most tragic figure in the history of South African Boxing, was born on January 21, 1913, in Vrede and grew up in Ladysmith. As a teenager, Foord was a gifted athlete, excelling in rugby, swimming, and track and field. He also had a pronounced daredevil streak and it was this, perhaps, that led him to dabble in boxing. After ditching a humdrum career in, of all pursuits, hair styling, Foord found adventure as a lifeguard in Durban. His next career choice–prizefighting–suggests just how much Foord enjoyed being on the dangerous edge of things. From The Cruelest Sport

After a brawl at a post-fight press conference in Munich, one that involved glasses, tripods, and death threats, Haye and Chisora will now bring their special brand of vulgarity to West Ham punters and BoxNation subscribers. But this is not an issue of morality. Boxing is full of vile characters—managers, matchmakers, fighters, promoters, trainers, editors of certain independent websites—and there is no point in pretending that a livelihood based on hurting and being hurt can have an air of gentility about it. Moral qualms about a blood sport ought to be checked at the door the moment you decide to buy a ticket, order a pay-per-view, watch Fight Night Club, or cheer for a KO finish. From The Cruelest Sport

And, between Face Off, Floyd Mayweather Speaking Out, 24/7, a live weigh-in, and five hours of prefight coverage, HBO has done more than its share to create the illusion that Mayweather is some sort of cultural touchstone. There is something cynical about all this in-house hype. Think about it: You pay X dollars a month for a premium network and are forced to sit through hours of infomercials designed to get you to buy extracurricular programming. It suggests one of these quarterly PBS or NPR pledge drives, except the motivation is far more calculating. Why Time Warner would hitch itself to a star recently convicted of domestic violence and on his way to doing points in a jail cell instead of scoring points in the ring is another puzzle altogether. It is one thing to produce Mayweather pay-per-view outings, but another thing to make a convicted criminal some sort of network flagship week after week. From The Cruelest Sport

Throughout the fight, Hopkins fought not to win rounds, but to obscure and obfuscate. His histrionics during the fight—playing the victim, clowning to give the impression of control—were meant to vilify Dawson and sway judges and spectators alike. Hopkins could not win by fighting alone, so he resorted to manipulating the observer to gain an advantage. Hopkins laid the foundation for this manipulation with the tactics he employed before the fight began and tried to build on that foundation rather than simply put his hands on his opponent. From The Cruelest Sport

How a bomb as big as Hopkins-Dawson I can produce a sequel is something only the boys in the backroom can answer. Contractual obligations, Public Enemy #1 for television networks—and, by extension, consumers—may have forced HBO to broadcast this fight, but must it be aired at such a reasonable hour? Like a midnight marquee film (think Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! or The Gore Gore Girls) Hopkins-Dawson II ought to take place in front of an audience sweating Cutty Sark or stoned out of its mind. From The Cruelest Sport

Flashes of guile and machismo notwithstanding, Morales is a greatly diminished fighter. It may reasonably be asked what a victory over the Tijuana fighter means for Marquez at this juncture. Marquez has retained his membership in the sport’s elite, while Morales is coming off of a loss to athletic yet unremarkable junior welterweight Danny Garcia. The careers of Marquez and Morales are on different trajectories. Morales would undoubtedly have his moments—to his credit he will not be denied them—but Marquez would be a prohibitive favorite should they meet. From The Cruelest Sport

Truax, 18-1-1 (10), now has the unique distinction of being the only fighter to score a knockdown against Taylor and lose. Even Taylor seemed to realize that. Despite being the former undisputed middleweight champion of the world, Taylor was feverishly proud of having survived being blasted to the canvas by a novice who had gone the distance with Antwun Echols. In the post-fight interview, Taylor spouted rubber-room gibberish generated by his shock at having survived a knockdown. His word salad spiel to Steve Farhood included the following: "I been knocked out lots of times, so who gives a damn? I don’t care. That’s what’s dangerous about me. I don’t care about it! You know what I’m saying? They gotta get me outta there!" Actually, what makes him dangerous is the fact that he is licensed to fight. From The Cruelest Sport

Predictably, given the shoddy judging that continues to plague the sport, he got the victory anyway, "earning" a split decision by scores of 111-117, 116-112, and 115-113. Reaction after the bout was a mixed bag of outrage and indifference, but the question of which stunk worse – the decision or the action inside the ring – is a riddle not worth investigating. From The Cruelest Sport

In one of the most savage fights of the 20th century, mortal enemies Ad Wolgast and Battling Nelson tore at each other before 18,000 fans in Richmond, California, for the right to be called lightweight champion of the world. On February 22, 1910, these two ironmen, in the days when drawing first blood was still a betting proposition, nearly murdered each other between the ropes. Finally, after nearly two hours of combat, Wolgast won via TKO in the 40th round when referee Edward W. Smith saved a defenseless Nelson from permanent injury. In the end, neither man could escape the frightful punishment accumulated in the ring. Nelson and Wolgast both wound up in sanitariums, with Wolgast, to his last sad and distant days, still "training" for a rematch with Nelson. Andrew Fruman presents a look at the fight from the viewpoint of those involved over a century ago. By Andrew Fruman

Kelly Pavlik gets to bask in the glow of "REDEMPTION" headlines—at least for a little while—after annihilating hapless Aaron Jaco in San Antonio on Saturday night in two farcical rounds. With only one start in five years going into this fight, Jaco was well-unprepared for his role as a crash test dummy. In fact, "Jedi" looked like he was ready to break open a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon before the first bell. Not even a lightsaber was going to help him against Pavlik. From The Cruelest Sport

Despite sporting an impressive record of 31-2 with 28 knockouts, López has taken a lot of abuse in the ring over the last two years. Except for his walkovers against a pair of ringworn opponents—Mike Oliver and Steven Luevano—López has been through the proverbial wringer recently. Before facing Salido, Lopez was nearly stopped in the last round by clubfighter Rogers Mtagwa in 2009. Next, Bernabe Concepcion dropped him with a hard counter left during the waning seconds of the first round of their two-round free-for-all. Even former bantamweight titleholder Rafael Márquez, long past his best, managed to shake López. "This is not the first occasion that I lost track of time after a fight," López said during the hearing. "It happened after the fight with Bernabe Concepcion. I don’t remember how I got to the dressing or how I took the drug test." From The Cruelest Sport

Kirkland’s comfort zone resides in a phone booth, too, except he’s stronger and far more explosive than Molina. Unlike Lara, the aggressive southpaw’s more at ease throwing right hooks and uppercuts than he is throwing straight left hands at a distance. That, combined with an industrious motor, can make Kirkland a terror to deal with, and if trench warfare is often won by the side with the louder weapons, Molina may be at a disadvantage. From The Cruelest Sport

In the late 1990s you could find Judah, now fighting out of Las Vegas, in Gleason’s Gym down on Front Street, putting on a show like no other. A Futurist blur even in sparring, Judah had the kind of speed, agility, and power that could make spectators gasp. Before Kostya Tszyu nearly decapitated him in 2001, Judah made an awful lot of good fighters look like fools in the ring: Reggie Green, Mickey Ward, Terron Millet. But all that seems like some other lifetime ago. Actually, come to think of it, it was. From The Cruelest Sport

Described as a "modern day Battling Nelson" by the Philadelphia Inquirer’s John Webster, Montgomery was a mean, unforgiving fighter between the ropes. Said to be in a foul mood throughout his camp, he had been trained to a razor’s edge by Dick Kain, and now with a little extra incentive, the champion promised to deliver havoc. Rather than try and bob and weave from a distance and look to pick his spots, he would attack violently. "I won’t be waiting for him, I’m going to plough right in," Montgomery promised. From The Cruelest Sport

With the win, Martinez can continue his vendetta against Julio Cesar Chavez Jr. and the WBC (whose garish "Diamond Doodad" he was proud to display in the ring on Saturday night) to the delight of his crackpot fanclub, few of whom, apparently, bothered to attend the fight, which is a shame, because Martinez is someone who is keenly aware of his style as a sort of art. It is a nervy style, one wholly dependent on anticipation, reflex, improvisation. Some of his moves on the perimeter seem to be little more than whimsy and the hands-down technique is bound to catch up with him sooner or later, but Martinez can get away with what he does because of his speed and because of how strange much of what he does is. From The Cruelest Sport

While Martinez has faced solid opposition in England, Argentina, and the United States—along with some Guardia Civil types in Spain—Macklin has fought fairly limited foes, mostly in the United Kingdom. After more than a decade as a pro, his best results remain a first-round KO over chinny Finn Amin Asikainen, a comfortable points win over fossilized Yori Boy Campas, and an early stoppage of Wayne Elcock in 2009 for the British middleweight title. It is a hell of a jump to go from Elcock and Asikainen to Sergio Martinez. Not even Finn McCool would attempt that. In addition, the only notable southpaw Macklin has faced—Jamie Moore—left him counting atoms in a 2006 bid for a the British light middleweight title. From The Cruelest Sport

"With his strength ebbing, Lopez seemed to make a conscious decision just before the start of the eighth round, one that, strange as it sounds, could have been plucked from Sartre: "I hate victims who respect their executioners." For Lopez, it was a leap of faith, an act of sheer will in the face of grim reality. These are the choices real prizefighters make, existential choices, ones that seem to have little to do with sport as we know it. After being outfought over the first half of the bout, Lopez chose to try to alter his waiting destiny by redoubling his fury. Predestination, in a boxing ring, is for losers." From The Cruelest Sport

Fighting spirit is no longer a requirement to be a star these days, it seems, but Lopez, to his detriment, has enough of it to keep any real aficionado short of breath for as long as he is in the ring. Indeed, Lopez is one of a handful of fighters who understand that boxing is an action sport and that the audience does not pay for tickets in order to flip through back issues of Cat Fancy at ringside. It is always hurricane season whenever Lopez enters the ring in Puerto Rico and tonight will be no different. From The Cruelest Sport

Since that statement fight against Urango well over two years ago, the only statement Alexander has made is "happy hunting" to the audience. Within the last year and a half, viewers, amidst all the yelping and back-foot swatting, were forced to search for a punch worth a damn. Unfortunately, judges have chosen not to be burdened by this chore, opting to place value in the insignificant. So while he lost a technical decision to Bradley in Pontiac, Michigan, Alexander escaped with victories over Andriy Kotelnik and Lucas Matthysse in St. Louis, two fights in which the vast majority of memorable blows were delivered by the hands of the opposition. From The Cruelest Sport

Still, boxing is the Dark City of Second Chances, and if Stevenson has emerged from its back alleys to reinvent himself as a successful prizefighter, then he deserves to go about his business the same way anybody else does. No one, it seems, ought to dispute that, except, of course, the holiest among us. Illogic and boxing go hand to hand like vultures and carrion, but one thing the whole Dereck Chisora-David Haye brouhaha has revealed in its wake is an upside down pseudo-morality—strange even for the madhouse pursuit known as prizefighting—where cracking bottles over the noggin of a fellow athlete at an industry event is "exciting" and driving while intoxicated is worth condemning. From The Cruelest Sport

When Cloud meets a durable opponent, it’s a competitive and entertaining clash. Saturday night likely won’t be any different. But because Cloud’s punches have the zip that Campillo’s arsenal lacks, any debatable round will be a Cloud round, regardless if Campillo is the more accurate of the two. Campillo, Madrid, Spain, dropped close – sometimes dubious – decisions against Beibut Shumenov and Karo Murat, and Cloud is a far more violent puncher than either of those two. He’ll need to conclusively outwork his younger adversary to have a realistic chance of winning the title. From The Cruelest Sport

This afternoon, with his Union Jack bandana wrapped around his face—most likely in homage to the highwaymen of Finchley Common of a bygone era—Chisora, 15-2 (9), decided to add a smack to the usual weigh-in shenanigans. It was a disgraceful act, albeit one that is now an accepted, indeed, desired, part of modern prizefighting, which more and more emulates the tomfoolery of professional wrestling. For stuttering vloggers, forum trolls, and third-rate bloggers, this kind of thing is a call for celebration, or, at the very least, some emoticons. Whatever one thinks of Klitschko, 43-2 (40), as a fighter—dull and mechanical, perhaps-he has been a credit to the sport for years. It is not his fault—nor that of his brother and co-champion, Wladimir—that this is the worst heavyweight crop since Mike Tyson came around in 1986 with a giant pooper scooper tucked into each glove. From The Cruelest Sport

Over the last few days, it has been insinuated that Chavez took PEDs or diuretics, that Rubio tanked it, that Chavez "ducked" a post-fight drug test, and that there is a vast conspiracy involving the WBC and the Texas athletic commission to make sure that Chavez got away with using banned substances. Anybody who knows anything about boxing knows that commissions are usually staffed by political hacks and that these commissions are object lessons in cronyism, dishonesty, conflict of interest, ineffectuality, and corruption. However, more than anything, these state agencies are often comprised of bumbling fools. Ditto sanctioning bodies, where deceitfulness is often merely idiocy dressed up in villainous sackcloth. Only in boxing can such limited imaginations make millions, and this is proven by the fact that sanctioning bodies are actually bankrolled by their victims. From The Cruelest Sport

Beyond the ring, Chavez, 44-0-1-1 (31), may be a dilettante or a bourgeois slumming it out in the beak-busting business, but between the ropes, he works as hard as anybody, and, in fact, harder than many who have mastered the strange knack of generating fanfare without fans. If Chavez brings his silver spoon to the Alamodome, Rubio will try his best to knock it out of his mouth and into the third row. From The Cruelest Sport

The Cruelest Sport "Real Steel" Giveaway begins now! The two contestants with the highest score total (based on a 10-question quiz) will each win a copy of the "Real Steel" Blu-ray + DVD Combo Pack with never-before-seen bonus material to be released on January 24th by Walt Disney Studios Home Entertainment. OMG! OMG!

You can take the quiz a maximum of three times as long as you answer all the questions with each separate entry. Leave your answers in the comments section. The Contest closes on January 24th, and the winners will be announced whenever I get around to it. From The Cruelest Sport

As for this bout somehow leading to a possible showdown with Manny Pacquiao, the odds seem just as long as ever against the "Stuporfight" happening. Both men are conductors on money trains operating on parallel tracks, but the real reason Pacquiao and Mayweather may never meet is hatred. Golden Boy Promotions may have apologized for hinting that Manny Pacquiao is using performance enhancing drugs, and Oscar De La Hoya may have sent a slew of remorseful Tweets from some unnamed but apparently permissible detox center, but the fact remains that the odium among all involved in both camps suggests a gothic family tree, each bracket leading, almost inevitably, to insanity, disease, and incest. From The Cruelest Sport

The Super Six has been a dizzying ride that has many boxing fans and media sea sick. Three of the original participants – Jermain Taylor, Andre Dirrell, and Mikkel Kessler – ended up falling off the ship at various points of the voyage. Along with half of the fighters dropping out of the tournament, there were postponements in the majority of the bouts to go along with your typical clashes between promoters. Cries bellowed from the hull for the ship to be anchored to call it a day. By Michael Nelson of The Cruelest Sport