ESPN Boxing

For just a moment, let's go ahead and allow ourselves to get carried away.

In Mexico, and specifically Guadalajara, they haven't bothered to wait for indisputable proof that recently crowned junior middleweight titlist Saul Alvarez is the real deal. At home, they adore "Canelo" unconditionally.

It's not hard to see why. He has a look and style that are unique among Mexican fighters. He's poised and punches like a jackhammer. He comes from a boxing family and is precociously talented, yet has earned his current station by turning pro at age 15 and logging 36 fights before taking a decision over Matthew Hatton to win a vacant WBC belt in March.

Still, you don't have to search high and low for skeptics. Before Saturday night's title defense against the credible and game Brit Ryan Rhodes in Guadalajara, Alvarez's most notable career victory came last year in a knockout of faded former welterweight champ Carlos Baldomir. Even the most rabid supporters of the 20-year-old champ would have to admit that his resume was a tad thin.

And even after Alvarez scored a 12th-round TKO against Rhodes to run his professional record to 37-0-1, questions remain about who Canelo is -- and more importantly, the level of fighter he can be.

A fight staged in Alvarez's hometown, in front of a Mexican boxing crowd that may have no peer, against a challenger 14 years his senior -- that obviously had its benefits. And after Alvarez took control early, landed some power shots that seemingly gave Rhodes pause, then pounded the fight out of him with wilting body shots, we were again left to wonder how Canelo might respond to legitimate adversity. The only thing shorter than poor Harold Lederman's long-awaited stint as a ringside announcer in the undercard bout was the brief moment Rhodes had a shot in this fight.

But let's dream on the kid for a minute. Alvarez was in control from wire to wire. He never got impatient or emotional. He took a few shots from Rhodes -- not many -- but was utterly unfazed. He never blinked when the challenger switched stances, a tactic many believed would give the young champion trouble. Alvarez's approach -- stunning combinations sprinkled with just the right amount of body work -- all but idled Rhodes for roughly half the fight.

Was Canelo tested? Not exactly. But Rhodes (now 45-4, 31 knockouts) was no patsy. Alvarez may not be the most agile or quick-footed fighter you'll see, but his power, accuracy and ring smarts were more than enough to discourage a legitimate contender from mounting any offense of his own Saturday. Will that be enough for the Miguel Cottos, Floyd Mayweathers and Manny Pacquiaos that seem to be in his future?

We'll have to wait to find out. But for now, with Canelo having captured the boxing world's collective attention, why not imagine the possibilities?

It was only the irresistible desire of Ricky Hatton at his peak that stopped Kostya Tszyu from ending his career the way he would have wanted: as a winner.

Hatton had been chasing Tszyu for years, and finally got him in the ring June 5, 2005. It was a measure of Tszyu's standing that hardly anyone gave Hatton a chance, even though he had won 38 bouts in a row and was nine years younger.

Anything less than the extraordinary performance the Englishman produced (Hatton never reached the same heights again) would not have been enough to win, but Tszyu still hung in for 11 rounds in what turned out to be his last fight.

Unable to get to Manchester, I followed the action live on British radio in the middle of the night, and was stunned when Tszyu retired in his corner with just three minutes left in their IBF title fight. Hatton had simply knocked the fight out of him.

In the end, the second defeat of Tszyu's career didn't matter. His legacy as one of the great junior welterweight champions was already secure, and on Sunday he will deservedly join Aaron Pryor and Wilfred Benitez, two other modern legends of the division, in the International Boxing Hall of Fame in Canastota, N.Y.

Tszyu had chilling power and used it to beat almost everyone in his era. Names like Julio Cesar Chavez (a fellow 2011 HOF inductee), Roger Mayweather and Zab Judah all bowed as Tszyu won 15 out of 18 world title fights, finishing with a record of 31-2 (with 25 knockouts). American Vince Phillips was the only other fighter to beat him.

What struck me after the Hatton fight was Tszyu's magnanimity in defeat. Once Hatton had finished celebrating, the deposed champion took the ring microphone to congratulate his conqueror and offered to give him any advice he might need in the future.
It was the gesture of a man who knew the torch had been passed, and guaranteed Tszyu the dignified exit he deserved.

A couple of months ago, British referee Dave Parris, who handled the fight, told me the bout was one of the best he had worked in his 31 years in the sport. That largely came down to Tszyu. Despite the excitement generated by Hatton's swarming rushes, Parris said there was always the possibility that Tszyu could pull out a big punch. Fortunately for Hatton, he didn't.

During regular conversations with Hatton's former trainer, Billy Graham, Tszyu's name always came up. For Hatton, getting a fight with Tszyu, who had established himself as the undisputed No. 1 at 140 pounds, became like a pursuit of the Holy Grail. Graham, while retaining the utmost respect for Tszyu, always maintained that Hatton could beat him -- and he was right.

But there is heavy irony there, in that Hatton probably will never make it to Canastota. He failed to build substantially on his momentous victory over Tszyu, losing his two biggest fights after that to Floyd Mayweather Jr. and Manny Pacquiao.

Tszyu, meanwhile, can rest easy in the knowledge that his place in history is safe forever.

In a nation where boxing has a rich tradition and great champions are revered, Julio Cesar Chavez surely stands above the rest as Mexico's supreme fighter.

Chavez, who enters the International Boxing Hall of Fame on Sunday, was the first Mexican boxer to become a champion in three weight classes. His long career, spanning more than 100 victories, is the type associated with the long-lasting fighters of yore.

There were faster fighters than Chavez, flashier boxers and superior one-punch sluggers, but he overcame them all until, with the inevitable decline setting in, he lost in a stunning upset to a talented and inspired Frankie Randall in 1994.

Four of Chavez's six defeats -- two of them against superstar Oscar De La Hoya -- came in his last 17 fights. He avenged three losses in rematches.

At his best, Chavez was an almost perfect fighting machine. He was a relentless aggressor who punched hard and fast, and never seemed to tire. If Chavez got caught by hard blows, he could shrug them off, as he showed when withstanding a full-impact right hand from Roger Mayweather -- something of a Thomas Hearns of the lighter weight classes -- in a 1985 bout.

No, Chavez said afterwards, Mayweather hadn't hurt him. "I have too much chin," he said through an interpreter.

Too much chin, too much everything, for the opponents who faced him.

Chavez's second-round TKO of Mayweather marked his U.S. television debut -- on CBS, in an era when weekend-afternoon bouts were a network TV staple -- but his prowess had been noted by boxing insiders at least two years earlier. "Chavez, all of 19, displayed animal ferocity and fearsome punching power," Richard Hoffer noted in the Los Angeles Times after Chavez had destroyed a boxer named Romero Sandoval in two rounds in an undercard bout at the old Olympic Auditorium in June 1983.

Consistency was to become Chavez's keynote. He just kept on winning, capturing his first championship at 130 pounds in 1984 and going on to win belts at 135 and 140 pounds. A bid for a fourth title failed when he was considered fortunate to escape with a draw against welterweight champion Pernell Whitaker at the Alamodome in San Antonio in 1993.

Yet if one mark of a fighter's greatness is his ability to win big fights against opponents considered to be of equal stature, Chavez passed that test with his dramatic victories over Edwin Rosario and Meldrick Taylor.

When Chavez faced Rosario, the lightweight champion, outdoors at the Hilton Hotel in Las Vegas on Nov. 21, 1987, it was considered essentially an even fight. Chavez was a slight 7-5 favorite at the Las Vegas sports books, but seven of 14 reporters polled by USA Today picked the bigger and supposedly stronger Rosario to win -- and six of them thought he would do so by knockout. However, the eagerly awaited bout turned out to be one-sided, with Chavez wearing down Rosario and punishing him severely before the Puerto Rican boxer's corner threw in the towel in the 11th round.

"The Culiacan cutie (for his baby face, not his style) has all the ingredients for all-time greatness," veteran boxing writer Jack Fiske enthused in the San Francisco Chronicle.

At the finish, Rosario's left eye was closed, he was cut over the right eye, and blood was coming from his mouth. This might have been Chavez's most masterful performance. Everyone knew Chavez was a tough fighter, but he showed skills in his domination of a hard-hitting champion. "Chavez proved he was an excellent boxer by repeatedly making Rosario miss by ducking under and away from Rosario's big punches," noted long-serving reporter Royce Feour in the Las Vegas Review-Journal.

It was this performance that established Chavez as a special type of fighter in the minds of the American boxing public. "Rosario's blood-smudged and distorted face was graphic proof that attention must now be paid to Chavez," wrote Phil Berger in the New York Times.

Chavez faced another major challenge in what was deemed basically an even-money fight when he took on unbeaten Olympic gold medalist Meldrick Taylor in a clash of junior welterweight champions on March 17, 1990. This, of course, was the fight that Chavez famously won with just two seconds remaining in the last round. Chavez was behind on points, but referee Richard Steele -- who would not have been aware of the judges' scores -- deemed Taylor in no fit state to continue.

The controversy lingered seemingly for years. Taylor was on his feet after a right-hand blow had blasted him to the canvas in the closing moments, but he was a bloodied, beaten-up fighter. Although Taylor was two seconds away from victory, the argument goes, just one more big punch from Chavez could have done lasting damage. "My first response was that Steele had done the wrong thing," wrote experienced reporter Stan Hochman in Taylor's hometown newspaper, the Philadelphia Daily News. "When I heard ... that X-rays revealed a shattered bone near Taylor's left eye, that tests showed complete dehydration that kept him in the hospital overnight, a possible blood clot in the kidney area, I thought that perhaps Steele had done the right thing."

While Chavez scored many triumphs over worthy opponents, including a number of world champions, he will probably be most remembered for that controversial, and indeed sensational, win against Taylor.

Mexican aficionados adored Chavez, and the reasons are manifold. To distill the sentiment, though, it seems most accurate to say he was beloved for being a fighter who, for many years, gave his all, who came into the ring in tremendous condition and who beat everyone put in front of him -- a fighter who was reliable and determined. There was a hint of surrender in his first rematch with Frankie Randall after Chavez was cut in a clash of heads, declined to continue but won narrowly by technical decision ("He shook his head twice to me," Nevada commission doctor Flip Homansky explained at the postfight press conference). Chavez didn't answer the bell for the ninth round in his rematch with De La Hoya (although Chavez said afterwards that his corner had stopped the bout). But he already had given so much of himself, in so many fights, that these were minor blemishes on a wonderful record -- and the loss by retirement against De La Hoya was an honorable defeat: "Chavez had shown his valor and given the crowd and TV viewers their money's worth," I reported from ringside for Boxing Monthly.

In a historical context, Chavez could have been matched, one imagines, against history's greatest fighters from 130 to 140 pounds and fought with distinction against the very best of them. His place in the Hall of Fame has been well-earned.

There is a formula for beating 42-year-old Glen Johnson, and super middleweight titlist Carl Froch revealed it Saturday night in retaining his belt.

The winning formula consisted of outpunching Johnson, who tried desperately to finish the fight early with hard overhand rights.



Froch was the busier fighter, and with each passing round the hard-hitting Johnson saw his chances decrease.



When the fight ended, two of the three judges ruled that Froch's formula had sealed the deal. Mark Green had it 116-112 and John Stewart also gave the nod to Froch 117-111. Nobuaki Uratani thought they fought to a 114-114 draw.


With the WBC 168-pound belt still securely strapped around his waste, Froch immediately turned his attention to the man whom most consider to be the division's best fighter, WBA titleholder Andre Ward.

And Froch quickly offered that he also has the formula to hand Ward his first professional loss. It's a message Froch delivered a couple of days before facing Johnson.



"Me and my trainer have got the formula, and you will find out why I said that when we box," said Froch, after improving to 28-1-0 on Saturday. "I believe I can win. I know I can beat this guy."



Froch isn't short on confidence, which is to be expected of a talented champion. But it's one thing to have a formula for Johnson and to execute it, another to reasonably expect the same result against Ward.



Johnson is an intelligent fighter, a former light heavyweight champion who is second-to-none in determination. But he now fights in spurts.



His best shot at upending Froch was to land a big punch. But Froch never let the slightly slower Johnson settle into a rhythm. His winning formula against Johnson was to throw more punches, land more punches and be the faster fighter.


That strategy won't work against Ward, who is faster than Froch, is more refined defensively and a purer boxing.

None of that matters to Froch, who won't reveal much detail about his strategy for Ward. Froch, however, makes no secret that he plans to be the guy moving forward.



There is one problem with that approach: Ward fights terrifically moving backward. It's one of the skills that make him such a special talent.

He can fight successfully moving backward or forward; he's comfortable participating in a slugfest or a technical boxing match.



In fact, there is no formula to beat Ward, 27, at this time, other than to hope he makes a mistake. And thus far in his pro career, the wise Ward (24-0-0) has shown no sign of being prone to errors.



All the talk of formulas doesn't concern Ward. He's heard it so many times in the past that he now regards it as part of the opposition's prefight ritual.



"Everybody feels they have the formula," Ward said. "But like I always say, 'When these lights turn on, it's a matter of who can get the job done.'



"That's what it all comes down to."



In 24 pro bouts, Ward has always been the man to get the job done. Expect him to do the same against Froch.

It was author F. Scott Fitzgerald who famously wrote, "There are no second acts in American lives." But even Fitzgerald never met a figure as stubborn and unyielding as 42-year-old Glen Johnson.

The fighter dubbed "The Road Warrior" has an opportunity Saturday to carve out a third act (or is it a fourth? Who's counting at this point?) when he challenges super middleweight titlist Carl Froch (27-1) in the semifinals of the Super Six World Classic at Boardwalk Hall in Atlantic City, N.J. (Showtime, 9 p.m. ET).

"I definitely feel a little bit of urgency for this fight -- I mean, I'm not getting any younger," Johnson said during last week's international media conference call. "I'm not going to take any fight for granted."

Although best characterized as a journeyman fighter, Johnson (51-14-2) has made a career out of defying any logical expectations or labels set upon him. He's pure substance in a sport rabidly obsessed with style. A refreshingly honest fighter with a nickname earned through nearly two decades of gritty work that has been scattered with heartbreaking and questionable decision losses in his opponents' backyards.

The Jamaican-born Johnson, who fights out of Miami, had already enjoyed his unlikely and redemptive second act as the feel-good story of 2004. As a hard-luck 35-year-old with nine losses, he ran off consecutive upsets of Clinton Woods, Roy Jones Jr. (by stunning knockout) and Antonio Tarver to win the world light heavyweight championship and fighter of the year honors.

But after losing the title to Tarver six months later in the rematch, Johnson would go on to lose all four of his title opportunities to regain the belt over the next five years. When a spot opened up in the Super Six tournament last year following an injury to Mikkel Kessler, Johnson jumped at the opportunity, dropping weight and stopping Allan Green in November to earn a spot in the semifinals.

With all the accolades thrown at 46-year-old Bernard Hopkins over the past few weeks -- whom Johnson calls "an inspiration to us old guys" -- it went mostly unnoticed as a 42-year-old light heavyweight moved down in weight to enter this tournament and won his first bout, all on short notice. No simple feat.

And now Johnson is one victory away from a title in a division he hasn't called home since losing four straight fights more than 10 years ago. A showdown with 168-pound titlist and rising pound-for-pound contender Andre Ward (24-0) awaits the winner this fall in the Super Six final.

"My advantage is being Glen Johnson, and I think I know boxing inside and out," Johnson said. "I'm going to go in there confident and use my skills to my potential, and you'll see me come out victorious. I'm not concerning myself too much with Carl Froch's plan or what he's going to do, to be honest with you. I'm more concerned with what I'm going to do. I have a winning formula and I don't think Carl Froch is the one who can tell me different."

Many are licking their lips at a possible Froch-Ward final, with the winner expected to face Lucian Bute (28-0), yet another titlist, to decide supremacy in the loaded super middles division. But don't print the tickets just yet.

Although he is far from the favorite to crash the Super Six party, Johnson -- a salt-of-the-earth type in a sport that typically isn't kind to such folks -- is the last fighter you can count out. As Lou DiBella, who is promoting Saturday's fight, recently said, "If you don't like Glen Johnson, then you don't like boxing."

Being overlooked hasn't fazed Johnson in the least. In fact, it's all the former construction worker -- who boxed for the first time at age 20 and didn't turn pro until turning 24 -- has ever known. But in a year already littered with upsets and unexpected feats by fighters considered to be yesterday's news, an improbable return to glory for Johnson suddenly seems eminently possible.

"I know I have a lot of skills and talent left in me and I'm looking forward to showing that to the people," Johnson said. "I know there are people still skeptical about what I can do at my age, but I actually get excited when people focus on my age, because that means they are not focused on my skills and what I bring to the table."

On Saturday afternoon, deep in the recesses of the 60th floor of The Hotel at Mandalay, Manny Pacquiao relaxed on a bed inspecting a seating chart and counting out tickets to give away. It was seven hours before his one-sided unanimous decision over Shane Mosley. Pacquiao had just arrived from a fender bender involving two of his own vehicles en route back from Mass. His trainer, Freddie Roach, arrived to check on Pacquiao (who was fine) and warn him: "Tonight, Mosley's trainer is going to object to our hand wrap. He does it to everyone. He'll just be trying to get in our head. Stay calm. You're the best at that."

In the locker room later that night, Roach's advice would prove unnecessary, as Naazim Richardson, Mosley's trainer, raised no objections. After 12 rounds in which Mosley barely engaged, little of Pacquiao's preparation in Manila and Los Angeles was mobilized in the ring: Pacquiao's work taking body punishment in sparring sessions was never needed; his newly devised "Bruce Lee" combination was never exhibited; and his intensive conditioning was never tested.

Pacquiao did not leave his training in the gym, but rather Mosley brought the gym to the fight, appearing more a sparring partner than a Hall of Fame fighter hoping to stage one of the great upsets in boxing history. Mosley himself admitted of his approach after the fight, "I wasn't going to take risks." Mosley scored a knockdown of Pacquiao in the 10th, but it was from a push, not a punch. "It made me angry," said Pacquiao at the postfight news conference before heading to Mandalay Bay to sing a concert. In the ring after the fight, referee Kenny Bayless apologized to Roach: "Freddie, I'm sorry I missed the call. Please tell Manny for me."

In the third round, a Pacquiao jab-left combination knocked Mosley down, but Pacquiao was unable to accomplish a first: knock Mosley out. The answer was not in his fists, but rather his feet. Pacquiao said after the fight, "I wanted to move, but I couldn't." In the locker room afterward, Roach said, "After Manny knocked Shane down, the fight was over. But Manny's calve then cramped up and prevented him from finishing Shane."

Strength coach Alex Ariza believed dehydration played a significant factor in the cramping: "I kept telling him to give his legs a break. It's been hotter here than we've experienced before." (The spotlighting in the dressing room on Pacquiao, with three camera crews tracking his every movement, likely did not help to keep the WBO welterweight champion hydrated.)

In addition, Ariza believes that Pacquiao's insistence on running hills constantly was a setback to his legs. "When you only run hills, hills, hills -- instead of varying roadwork with more track work and speed work -- your muscles are not going to function the same way," he said. Apart from the cramp, an eyelet of Pacquiao's custom-made shoes reportedly cut into his foot, causing it to bleed.

The weather, the hills, the entourage, his sparring partners, the poor driving skills of his security team and his custom-made Nikes all appear to have inflicted more damage on Pacquiao than any punch Shane Mosley threw the entire fight. Looking to the future, Pacquiao said, "I'm satisfied with my career. If Floyd [Mayweather] and I were to fight, it would be a great fight. But if it didn't happen, I'm satisfied with my career and wouldn't lose a moment of sleep over it."

LAS VEGAS -- With the big fight now only a few hours away, the expectation here at the MGM Grand remains the same as it has been since the bout was signed: that Manny Pacquiao will defeat Shane Mosley, perhaps with something to spare, and continue moving onward and upward.

If that's indeed what happens, the Pacquiao train will keep rolling on, with the next stop likely at this same venue in October or November -- possibly a third meeting with Mexican rival Juan Manuel Marquez. If pay-per-view figures are as high as anticipated, Pacquiao will cement his growing status as the biggest draw in boxing by far, as his only real rival for that crown, Floyd Mayweather Jr., retreats into a world of tweeting pictures of winning gambling tickets and, rather sadly, urging his followers to spend tonight watching Lady Gaga on HBO.

And if the evening unfolds according to the script, what will it mean for Mosley? Should he indeed lose, his record will fall to 8-7-1 since he began his career 38-0. And an argument could be made that the only truly impressive victories in that span came against Luis Collazo and Antonio Margaritio, given that Mosley's rematch victory over Oscar De La Hoya has been somewhat tainted by his admitted use of PEDs before the fight.

Unless defeat is close and competitive, the calls will surely be loud for Mosley, 39, to retire and enjoy the success and support a Hall of Fame career has earned him. Whether the proud Mosley would heed such calls will be a different matter.

But what if he wins?

Most immediately, there will be a rematch -- an opportunity for Pacquiao to avenge a shock defeat and for both men to pad their bank accounts. A Mosley win would, rightly or wrongly, almost certainly prompt instant reevaluation of the quality of opposition through which Pacquiao has steamrolled on his way to his place atop the pound-for-pound mountain. And it would prompt further head-scratching attempts to adequately assess the career of Mosley, which, after its stellar start, has been something of an enigma for the last decade: on top of the world after first defeating De La Hoya; knocked back down to earth following defeats to Vernon Forrest, particularly when Forrest twice lost to Ricardo Mayorga; seemingly ascendant anew after the De La Hoya rematch, only to once more be knocked back by defeats against Winky Wright and Miguel Cotto; stratospherically high in the wake of his demolition of Margarito; and now, after a lopsided loss to Mayweather and an ugly draw with Sergio Mora, dismissed as being near the end.

Instant, sweeping analysis is the stock in trade of writers, and catnip to fans. When it comes to Shane Mosley and Manny Pacquiao, it is at this moment based purely on speculation. In a few hours, it will be based on an actual result.

LAS VEGAS -- Manny Pacquiao was barricaded alone in his bedroom atop The Hotel at Mandalay Bay. Just outside his doors, however, was an ever-evolving cell comprised of Pacquiao's entourage, advisors, security, band, documentary film crews, paid photographers, family, friends and colleagues from Philippine congress -- encased by a membrane of as many aides, spouses and extended families as available oxygen would allow in a hotel suite.

After training Julio Cesar Chavez Jr. on Thursday, cornerman Freddie Roach waited two hours for Pacquiao to materialize for his final workout at Top Rank Gym before Saturday's welterweight showdown with Shane Mosley. He then phoned his fighter, tongue firmly in cheek, to ask a question:

"Manny, do you want me to kill all those people?"

To depart for training, Pacquiao (52-3-2) needed only to escape the myriad requests he has received for tickets. According to sources within his camp, Pacquiao has been inundated with approximately 1,400 requests from "all those people," while having bought only 1,000 to give away (a cost conservatively estimated in the mid-six figures). To get that number down, all Pacquiao had to do was agree to Roach's offer. Ever the diplomat, Pacquiao graciously declined.

Instead, at just past sunset, the congressman headed not to the gym but to the UNLV track, surrounded by a security detail and small entourage that included Olympic gold medal speed skater Apolo Ohno and poker champion Johnny Chan. There, Pacquaio would do roadwork. The next gloved punch he throws will be against Mosley (46-6-1) to defend his WBO welterweight title.

News surfaced earlier Thursday that Pacquiao's previous opponent, Antonio Margarito, is still recovering from an uppercut that severely injured his eye, killing the possibility of a Margarito-Miguel Cotto rematch. This makes Margarito the fourth of Pacquiao's past five opponents who have either retired (Oscar De La Hoya) or have not fought since (Ricky Hatton, Joshua Clottey and Margarito). At 39, Mosley seeks to upset the 8-to-1 odds against him, as well as the 80 percent chance suggested by recent numbers that a fight against Pacquiao will be a man's last.

To combat Mosley, Pacquiao and Roach have devised a new weapon: "Bruce Lee" (in honor of Pacquiao's idol, of whom a portrait hangs in his Los Angeles home bearing both his likeness and Pacquiao's own in a single canvas and for whom, more recently, Pacquiao modeled his hairstyle). Bruce Lee is a five-punch combination: jab, straight left, hook, left to the body while going under the opponent's hook, angled body shot. Asked what purpose the first left to the body serves, Roach said, "Just to mess with Shane."

Before one of his final workouts in Los Angeles, Pacquiao, 32, said, "We have to be ready for Mosley to go to the body." In preparation for this, Pacquiao ensured that at least four of those 1,000 tickets he would dole out were earned. One day, when sparring partner David Rodela entered the locker room of Wild Card asking for four tickets, Pacquiao began a negotiation:

"OK, if we go body to body," Pacquiao said.

"Manny, no, please ..." pleaded Rodela.

"Do you want tickets?"

In the end, Pacquiao and Rodela would stand toe-to-toe exchanging nothing but body shots for up to three rounds at a time. Rodela said of the experience: "I couldn't drive afterwards. He'd hit my arms. I couldn't lift them. My doctor told me I had something called bone bruise. I think Manny likes body-to-body not just to prepare for Mosley but also maybe because [Floyd] Mayweather, he exposes that shoulder." (Although Pacquiao's promoter, Bob Arum, has made a formal offer for Pacquiao next to face Juan Manuel Marquez for a third time, boxing's biggest fight remains a potential Pacquiao-Mayweather match.)

Back at the UNLV track, Pacquiao began to torture his strength coach, Alex Ariza, asking, "How many laps? Twelve?"

Ariza's veins bulged slightly out of his head. "Bro, you're already on weight! Why do you want to run more weight off?"

Pacquiao shrugged. "But we eat after," he said, then smiled with a maniacal glint in his eye as Ariza threw up his hands and walked off. (For the record, Pacquiao would tip the scales at 145 pounds at Friday's weigh-in, compared to Mosley's 147.)

It was a typical scene around Pacquiao's camp. The fighter is known for playfully tormenting so many of his assistant trainers: spitting water in their faces, slapping them gingerly across the face, spanking them not so gently on the rump, poking them sharply in the belly and creeping up behind them to kick one of their knees out from under them. They never reciprocate. No truth to power is ever told. As his political career, music recordings and movies suggest, the eight-division world champion is a man of many pursuits. Among his minions, Pacquiao serves not only as king of his court, but also as its jester.

Roach exists outside this realm, due to his stature in the ring. (Likely not since Aristotle taught Alexander the Great has a king treated his educator with such privilege). Roach asked Pacquiao to run six laps and then walk a final two with him. Pacquiao assented. "I have to slow him down," Roach said. "It's the hardest job in the world, but also probably the best one for a trainer to have."

At Wild Card, during a day-planning strategy with Roach, Pacquiao asked a favor: "If I slow down, tell me, and I retire."

"You tell me, too, Manny," Roach said. "Then we can both go get jobs."

As Pacquiao shadowboxed at the UNLV track, it did not appear that either man would need to polish his resume anytime soon.

LAS VEGAS -- All eyes are on Saturday night's Showtime pay-per-view card from the MGM Grand, but Friday night it will be ESPN's "Friday Night Fights" on the air from the Mandalay Bay across the street. The headliner will be Las Vegas junior lightweight Diego Magdaleno against Gilberto Sanchez Leon, but the broadcast will also be the first opportunity for many viewers to see young light heavyweight Mike Lee in action.

Many fighters have to wait their whole career to be able to fight on a major pay-per-view undercard, or in Las Vegas, or on ESPN. But Lee -- who fought on the non-televised undercard of Manny Pacquiao's defeat of Antonio Margarito in November -- will have ticked all those boxes by the time he finishes his fifth professional fight, against Gilbert Gastelum.

"I welcome it," Lee (4-0, 3 KOs) said of being on such big stages so early in his professional life. "If anything, it makes me train harder. I'm a fight-night fighter, not a gym fighter. When the pressure is heaviest on me, and the more cameras and the more people are there, I just love it."

Part of the reason Top Rank is pushing Lee so hard is his backstory, the fact that he turned to boxing for a living despite graduating top of his class at Notre Dame in 2009 with a degree in finance. The former amateur standout looks and talks more like a financial analyst than a fighter -- attributes that the company recognizes make Lee eminently marketable as he progress through the ranks. It doesn't hurt, either, that his last three bouts have seen him blow out his opposition in short order.

By the end of 2011, assuming all goes according to plan, Lee hopes to have a career record in the order of 10-0; before the year is out, he'll return to Notre Dame on Sept. 16 (the eve of his alma mater's game against rival Michigan State) to headline a card at the 11,000-capacity Notre Dame Joyce Center, with all proceeds going to charity -- another unusual event for a fighter at such an early stage of his career.

"It sounds corny, but Notre Dame was such a huge part of my life," Lee said. "I worked and scratched and clawed to make my way in there, and it made me a different person.

"They're really excited that someone who is 23 years old can make such a substantial contribution, not only fiscally but also with the whole ideology of giving back. They're looking to fill the place. It's going to be rocking. An experience like that, where I have 10,000 people cheering for me, and with the hoopla surrounding it -- knock on wood -- when I get out of there with a victory, I'll be ready for anything."

LAS VEGAS -- Unquestionably, the single most shocking and electrifying moment I have witnessed ringside was at the Mandalay Bay in Las Vegas on May 15, 2004. Antonio Tarver poleaxed Roy Jones Jr. with a thunderbolt of a left hand to send Superman's senses scrambling and earn himself a place in boxing history.
Asked if he ever replays that moment in his head, Tarver laughed.

"Every single day!" he said with a smile. "No seriously, I trained, I prepared. Even when I said, 'Roy, what's your excuse tonight?' everything just came together. Every day that I went running, every sit-up, every push-up paid off. I couldn't ever dream that. It was one of those things."

Jones' supporters have long argued that his performance in his first two fights against Tarver was diminished by his cutting muscle to return to light heavyweight after annexing a heavyweight belt from John Ruiz. Two years later, it was Tarver's turn to share that experience. After bulking up to play Mason "The Line" Dixon opposite Sylvester Stallone's Rocky Balboa on film, he dropped back to 175 pounds, only to be outworked and outpointed by Bernard Hopkins.

"I think I got a little distracted with the Hollywood buzz when I fought Hopkins, and granted, I should have had a tuneup fight, because coming down from 233 pounds in two-and-a-half months was too much," Tarver said. He does see more acting roles in his future but not until he has decided to hang up his gloves for good. For now, however, he fights on, with his next bout an intriguing contest in Australia on July 20 against fellow Jones conqueror Danny Green.

In the meantime, Tarver has emerged as a stellar ringside analyst for Showtime, and he'll be calling Saturday's Manny Pacquiao-Shane Mosley pay-per-view card alongside Gus Johnson and Al Bernstein. Notwithstanding his achievements in the ring, it is a role that occasionally causes Tarver to pinch himself in disbelief.

"I was just on a conference call this week with James Brown, Jim Gray, Al Bernstein and Gus Johnson, and I told my wife, 'What am I doing on this call? I feel like the ugly duckling, just so out of place,'" he said. "These guys have so much experience, so much knowledge. I've seen these guys growing up, you know what I mean? I have a crazy amount of respect for them. I felt so out of place. Just to be able to say, 'Wassup James?' -- it's like an out of body experience. It's crazy. The only thing I can compare it to is being in the Rocky Balboa movie -- something which I never in a million years ever imagined I would be a part of. You have to feel someone upstairs is really looking out for you, you know?"

The key to success, sitting next to the ring apron as much as being in the ring, Tarver said, is preparation.

"I prepare, I study, I watch tape," he said. "Even those guys I feel I know like the back of my hand, I still go back and watch footage. There's nothing like being prepared and bouncing ideas off guys like Al and Steve Farhood. They're encyclopedias of boxing; they've forgotten more than I'll ever know when it comes to broadcasting.

"But they don't want me to be another 'them.' They want me to be me. So when the fight is going on, I become either one of the guys in the ring. I become Manny Pacquiao: 'What can I do to take advantage of what Shane is doing?' Maybe if I see something that somebody else doesn't see, it's just my experiences. That's what they want me to fall back on."

Tarver's in-ring experiences help provide additional perspective when the Showtime team sits down for meetings with fighters the day before a bout.

"I think I've helped a lot of fighters relax," he said." I've even called some upsets, I think, because I have a tendency to see some things on film. And I'll challenge a fighter: 'What's your game plan? How are you going to defeat this guy? Tell me how you're going to get it done.' I already know what they should say, and if they don't, then maybe I'll lead them in that direction a little bit."

But those previous experiences also made for a particularly interesting environment when he sat down with Hopkins prior to his fight with Jean Pascal last December.

"What we had in the ring was our business," Tarver said. "Outside of the ring, we're men. I respect Bernard, but I can tell you, it was hard. I had reservations prior to the meeting, but it took my wife to tell me, 'You have a job. And whatever your feelings are about Bernard personally, you can't let that interfere with what you're doing.' So that was one of my best fighters meetings, believe it or not. Me and Bernard went eye to eye, and I dug some things out of him."

That night in Quebec City was, Tarver said, one of the most electrifying he has experienced ringside. But he fully expects something similar Saturday night at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas, in what will be the biggest fight by far he has covered as a broadcaster.

"The intensity, the tension was so thick in the room, it just hit everybody," Tarver said of Pascal-Hopkins. "It was one of those nights that was unbelievable. It was electric. And I assume Saturday will be something like that, maybe even more.

"We need this fight to live up to the billing. Boxing needs this fight to live up to the billing. People need to get their money's worth, and I think both these fighters are going to lay it all out on the line because they know that this is a big opportunity for them to really stick their flag in this boxing game."

LAS VEGAS -- Manny Pacquiao is an approximately 9-to-1 favorite at the Las Vegas sports books for Saturday night's fight with Shane Mosley. Some of the questions being asked in the buildup to their clash at the MGM Grand Garden Arena:

Is Mosley shot?
Since the second round against Floyd Mayweather Jr., when he had Mayweather in all kinds of trouble after landing a pair of monstrous right hands, Mosley has looked unexceptional at best. He dropped all the remaining rounds against Mayweather, then failed to impress in a draw against Sergio Mora (albeit a draw that most observers felt he should have won). Mosley started his career 38-0; since then, he is a pedestrian 8-6-1. It's possible, at age 39, that he has reached the end of the road.

Can Mosley utilize his reach? If Mosley does still have something in his tank, can he make use of his seven-inch reach advantage? If Mosley can keep Pacquiao on the end of a stiff left jab, it could negate all of the Filipino's plans. But Mosley's jab has been pawing and ineffective for several fights now. Can he rediscover it in time?

What happens if Mosley hits Pacquiao flush? When Mosley landed two big bombs on Mayweather's famously sturdy and elusive chin, a shocking upset appeared to be just one punch away. Pacquiao is easier to hit than Mayweather, but at the same time, he has willingly absorbed punishment from the likes of Miguel Cotto and come away unscathed. At some point, Mosley seems likely to detonate an explosive punch on Pacquiao's jaw. How will Manny react? Will he wobble, or will he bite down on his mouthpiece, bang his gloves together and ask for more?

Will Pacquiao stand and trade? The expectation is that this will be a war, with both fighters going toe-to-toe. But Pacquiao's trainer, Freddie Roach, is well aware of the threat posed by Mosley's right hand. Don't be surprised if, especially early on, Pacquiao slides to his right, moving away from Mosley's right hand and steering Mosley on to his left, using his perpetual energy to frustrate Mosley and then dart in with short explosive flurries before moving out again.

Can Mosley keep up? Mosley is famously well-conditioned. But as he struggled to catch up with Mayweather last year, he tensed up and ran out of gas. If Pacquiao, the Energizer Bunny of boxing, frustrates Mosley with his constant movement, and if Mosley is unable to keep up with his opponent's pace, will the same thing happen again?

The prediction: Mosley will attempt to assert himself early on, but he'll find himself needing to reach with his right hand as Pacquiao moves away and counters with hard lefts. Mosley will have some success early and rattle Pacquiao a couple of times, but by the fourth round Pacquiao will settle into a rhythm and become progressively more dominant in the exchanges, ultimately easing to a wide, unanimous points decision.

LAS VEGAS -- The Friday morning before fight day tends to be pretty quiet, but there are a few items later in the day that will keep everyone occupied as the crowd swells in anticipation of Saturday night's events:

• From 3 to 9 p.m. PT (6 p.m. to midnight ET), fans in Las Vegas will be able to meet and mingle with fighters such as Giovanni Segura, Jesus Soto-Karass and a pair of promising prospects called Thomas Hearns and Roberto Duran (OK, the sons of the greats, but still ...) at the "Arena Tecate," set up by the fight's main sponsor. (The always-popular Chicas Tecate will also be attendance, and there will be a similar event Saturday morning. And don't forget Tecate's perennial PPV rebate -- details on the Tecate Boxing Facebook page.)

• At 3 p.m. PT (6 p.m. ET), the main event fighters will be on the scale for the weigh-in, in front of a braying crowd of several thousand in the MGM Grand Garden Arena. For most of the fighters on the card, it will mark an end to a couple of days of sucking on ice chips and dreaming about banana smoothies, and the opportunity to rehydrate and eat. Expect no such troubles from Manny Pacquiao, who will presumably weigh in a couple of pounds inside the welterweight limit.

• At 5 p.m. PT (8 p.m. ET), the doors will open at the Mandalay Bay across the street for ESPN's "Friday Night Fights," headlined by a junior lightweight bout between Gilberto Sanchez Leon and local boy Diego Magdaleno. The show goes live on ESPN3 and ESPN2 at 10 p.m. ET. No Joe Tessitore this week; Brian Kenny will be calling the fights alongside Teddy Atlas.

• And finally, after FNF, the journos will be coming back to the MGM Grand for this year's Boxing Writers Association of America (BWAA) award dinner. Among the pugilistic dignitaries in attendance will be Sergio Martinez, 2010's fighter of the year; Freddie Roach, who will be receiving trainer of the year honors again; and Amir Khan and Marcos Maidana, on hand to collect their fight of the year trinket. Robert Guerrero, who put his career on hold to help his wife successfully battle leukemia, will be receiving the Courage in Adversity Award from our own Dan Rafael.

• Saturday night, the pay-per-view will go live at 9 p.m. ET, and we'll be providing coverage and analysis here on ESPN.com from 8 p.m. ET. See you there.

LAS VEGAS -- Trainer Naazim Richardson has a particular way with words. Consider:

"When you meet that girlfriend, you all are holding hands and you're going to the movies. But after you've left that toilet seat up a couple of times, you begin finding out whether or not we can go forward. You see her snap. I just left the toilet seat up, and she got a knife in her hands. You realize this is not the sister for you. When everything's going great, yeah, we're the best of buddies. But as soon as you have a dispute ..."

Like his friend and fellow Philadelphian Bernard Hopkins, Richardson can sometimes take a verbal stroll along a seemingly unnavigable pathway, leaving listeners stumbling along uncertainly before taking a sudden sharp turn and winding up at the long-planned destination. In this particular instance, Shane Mosley's corner man was discussing the relationship between trainer and fighter, and how navigating speed bumps can be the key to strengthening that relationship:

"Every athlete is different, and you have to have a different approach with each and every one. I felt like me and Shane Mosley could work together when we had our first disagreement. Me and Shane had our first dispute early. It was the first time I went to wrap his hands. See, Shane wants to fight in the bare-knuckle era. Shane don't want nothing on his hands. 'I like to feel it.' We got to an understanding, we compromised and we got it done."

Richardson displays an intensity, intelligence and dry wit that has led more than one scribe to dub him the best interview in boxing. On Thursday, he entertained journalists at the MGM Grand by expounding on a number of topics related to Saturday's fight between Mosley and Manny Pacquiao.

On Manny Pacquiao's energy levels:

"You're not going to match Pacquiao for energy. How many people have ever done that? You have to use what you have to try and get something against that.

"This guy can stand there and he's shaking his head and he's bouncing and they're giving him rounds and he hasn't thrown anything yet. Everybody here has seen the Marvin Hagler-Ray Leonard fight? I always said, the masterful thing that Leonard did in that fight was make the world watch him. You think about that fight, you didn't even look over at Hagler. You watched Leonard move, you watched Leonard dart in and out. That's what Pacquiao does. Pacquiao makes you watch Pacquiao. You almost forget there's another man in there. This guy creates that, he creates that kind of energy."

On the challenges of fighting Pacquiao

"It's never been an issue about whether you can hit Pacquiao. The issue is whether you can stop Pacquiao from hitting on you all the time. And can you continuously do that? Because in the second half of the bout, this guy's energy is unbelievable.

"The opportunities that Pacquiao presents, you have to take full advantage of them. It's not that you don't find success against Pacquiao. I don't care how successful you are against Pacquiao, he'll bite down on his mouthpiece, tuck his chin and come on and try to turn it into something else. So even when you're doing well, there are still adjustments to be made. You can't get comfortable."

On finding a suitable sparring partner

"If your sparring partner can do what Pacquiao does, he's someone who's getting ready to defend his own title. He can't come to our camp, because he's busy."

On preparing for the unexpected

"I said, 'Shane, it wouldn't surprise me if Pacquiao came out and fought you with a lot of movement, circling, trying to dart in and out instead of standing there slugging like that.' Even if he thought about doing it for a second, he'd change his mind about it. These are the things you have to understand: You can't just prepare to think, 'It's going to be a war, it's going to be a showdown, we're going to bang it out.' That could change in a second.

"He said, 'Oh, that's against his nature, he's going to fight.' I said, 'We're prepared if he fights you. What if he don't?'"

LAS VEGAS -- After the pomp of the main event news conference at the Hollywood Theater on Wednesday, Saturday's undercard fighters -- and those on ESPN2's "Friday Night Fights" card from the Mandalay Bay across the street -- gathered on the dais in the less ornate but only fractionally less-packed media room at the MGM Grand. Here's what they had to say:

• Bob Arum took the opportunity to fulminate against an unnamed but clearly identifiable absent rival: "We don't steal fighters. That's the way it was always done throughout my career. When people come from the outside, however they've been trained, as bankers or whatever, they have to realize, you don't steal fighters."

• Jorge "El Travieso" Arce, former three-division titlist, dipped into his nascent broken English to advise Saturday's rival, Wilfredo Vazquez Jr., that, "I don't know what happens on Saturday. One thing for sure: I'm winning by knockout."

• Vazquez, son of the former world champion, who looked like a million bucks in a gray suit and wearing a high-wattage smile, countered: "I know you're a great fighter, you're a great champion. You have a lot of guts. But that thing you said about KO'ing me -- it isn't going to happen."

Five years ago, despite his pedigree, Vazquez was working as a croupier in a casino in Puerto Rico. When he was laid off, he turned to boxing; four and a half years later, he is undefeated and holds a super bantamweight belt.

• Five years ago, Kelly Pavlik was building toward a world title shot, which he won in spectacular fashion against Jermain Taylor in 2007. Defeats to Bernard Hopkins and Sergio Martinez have derailed him since then, but no more so than a bout with a MRSA infection and a public battle with alcoholism, which resulted in a spell in rehab. The former middleweight champion begins a comeback on Saturday, at super middlewight, against unbeaten Texan Alfonso Lopez.

"Everybody knows about Kelly Pavlik and his story," Arum said. "Everybody is concerned about Kelly Pavlik. Everybody is pleased to welcome Kelly Pavlik back to boxing."

Then Pavlik took his turn at the podium, the final fighter to speak before the media this week. He touched on the obvious, but understandably chose to focus on the future.

"The story's already been done, everything's been told," he said. But what hasn't much been written about, Pavlik noted, was the fight itself. "It's a great opportunity and a great fight to come back to. With all the experiences I've had, one thing I've learned is not to look past anybody. It's probably the best I've felt in my whole entire career, and I'm looking forward to putting on a show on Saturday and showing we're back."

The fighters posed for photographs, then broke off for interviews with individual reporters. The last of the public words have been spoken. Soon it will be time for everybody to fight.

LAS VEGAS -- The main question I'm asked by readers during fight week is, "What is the atmosphere like?" Most of the time, the answer is the same: "Too early to tell." It's pretty rare that the MGM Grand (or the Mandalay Bay, or wherever a fight is being held) comes to life much before the day before the fight, which is when fans and high rollers descend for the weekend.

The biggest exception to that rule was, of course, when Ricky Hatton challenged Floyd Mayweather Jr. and it felt as though half of Manchester shipped to Las Vegas from Monday onward. That remains far and away the most electrifying big-fight atmosphere I've encountered; few even come close.

I'm not saying that Saturday's Manny Pacquiao-Shane Mosley clash will be on that level, because it almost certainly won't. But there are plenty of signs already this week that it will be bigger than most.

The fighters' arrivals at the MGM on Tuesday were far better attended than usual, with a guesstimated 500 or so fans screaming mostly for Pacquiao, but also for Mosley. There is already a buzz among guests at the hotel, with several stopping to ask me if I have any idea how they can find tickets. (The Grand Garden Arena was sold out weeks ago.) On Wednesday evening, I bumped into a bunch of fans who had flown over from England for the fight; as we descended to the lobby, former champ Johnny Tapia stepped into the elevator and chatted about Mosley's chances.

I have no idea how many pay-per-views this will sell, although overall awareness of the fight seems to be much higher than for most. But here in Las Vegas, it's shaping up to be one of the more atmospheric fight nights in a while.