ESPN Boxing

Out of sight, out of mind. In the boxing business, if you aren't on TV, you sort of don't exist. That's why Alisher "Ali" Rahimov is trying to draw as many eyeballs as he can to prove to fight fans that he's a solid player in the lightweight division.

Rahimov, a Uzbekistan-born Russian citizen, sports a 23-0 record (with 12 KOs) and is highly regarded by the WBO, which has him rated at No. 2 at 135. But by and large, he is not a known entity to fight fans.

His co-manager, Vadim Kornilov, expects that to change, by a good degree, Friday night at the Ameristar Casino in St. Charles, Mo., when Rahimov shows off his technical savvy, hand speed and solid pop against a fighter well-known to the "Friday Night Fights" crowd: Ji-Hoon Kim (23-7, 18 KOs), the somewhat unrefined but always aggressive 25-year-old who has won two straight after losing his previous two.

Rahimov has a solid amateur pedigree, having amassed a 268-18 record and represented Uzbekistan at the 2000 Olympics, but inactivity has bedeviled him as a pro. He has fought five times since 2009; that's fine if you're Floyd Mayweather Jr. and you make nifty bank fighting occasionally. But for the 34-year-old Rahimov -- even if his body doesn't show much wear and tear, and his stamina and skills haven't shown noticeable degradation in the gym -- time is of the essence. A move needs to be made now.

"We're trying to get him busier," Kornilov told me. "Hopefully, after this fight, things will change. We're hoping once he gets on ESPN, things will change."

Lest anyone think that Rahimov is a homebody who is reluctant to leave the familiar comforts of Siberia and wants the action to come to him, Kornilov said the boxer is happy to troop anywhere in the U.S. to find meaningful fights. Rahimov was scheduled to fight South Korea's Kim in January on ESPN, actually, but his mother died and he pulled out of the fight.

"He has no problem with traveling," the manager said of Rahimov, who has fought only twice in North America. "He's happy to be here and wants to show everybody what he can [do]."

So what will he show Friday against Kim, a fighter who turned pro with zero amateur experience?

"I've seen Kim, he's always on shows when Ruslan Provodnikov is fighting," said Kornilov, who also manages Provodnikov. "A lot of people point out his defensive flaws. I think Ali takes advantage of that early. He punches a lot, has heavy hands. I think Kim has flaws we will take advantage of from Round 1."

With the David Haye-Dereck Chisora heavyweight clash coming to full fruition, it sure seems like bad behavior is being rewarded.

You'll recall that after Chisora gave a decent account of himself against Vitali Klitschko on Feb. 18 in Munich, dropping a 12-round decision, he got into it at the postfight news conference with David Haye. Party-crasher Haye had become something of a laughingstock after he set an unofficial record for talking a big game and then not coming close to backing it up when he went into scaredy-cat mode in his scrap with Wladimir Klitschko in Hamburg last July, losing a lopsided decision. Haye started yapping at Chisora at the presser, apparently to lure him into a tilt, and it looks like it worked. The yapping turned into a full-blown brawl, with Haye smashing a beer bottle on Chisora's mug. The authorities looked into the event afterward, and boxing received its trillionth black eye.

But guess what? That display of idiotic thuggishness will probably result in a massive payday for the two miscreants. A square-off between Haye and Chisora is slated for July 14 in London, although uncertainty remains on the specifics because neither Haye nor Chisora has a license to box in England. Haye gave his up when he "retired" last October, while Chisora's was yanked for his unruly behavior prior to and after the Vitali fight. Most likely, things will get ironed out, because tickets have gone on sale. In fact, 17,000 were sold on the first day of release. No surprise, interest is high in a clash between the two bad actors.

Wladimir Klitschko (57-3, 50 KOs), the 36-year-old heavyweight champion, was asked if he is distressed that the fighters' poor behavior is being rewarded.

"All of the champions since Joe Louis, Max Schmeling, Muhammad Ali and Rocky Marciano have tried to polish the sport of boxing, and make it as glamorous as it is, and the behavior of Dereck Chisora is sending the wrong message to the youth -- that means, the worse you behave, the more money you are going to make, and you're going to be known for it," he said. "So it's definitely sending a wrong message, and I totally disagree with the decision from the Luxembourg Boxing Federation to give permission and license. And by the way, promoters are promoting this fight as the fight of the century, which is totally nonsense, because they both lost to [the Klitschko brothers]."

No word yet on whether any U.S. entity will televise the bout. I'm guessing none will, so if anyone in the States was thinking they could boycott the fight to show their displeasure that Haye and Chisora will benefit despite representing boxing in such a degrading fashion, that option likely won't be available.

Word is out that Juan Manuel Marquez will not, in fact, be gloving up at Cowboys Stadium in July, and it looks as though he'll be playing the waiting game, holding out for Manny Pacquiao and a fourth tangle between the two tighterthanthis rivals.

Bob Arum, who promotes Pacquiao, is aiming for a November clash between his fighter and Marquez, whose welterweight title bout in November resulted in a Pacquiao majority decision -- and yet another disputed outcome in their rivalry. I asked Freddie Roach, Pacquiao's trainer, to weigh in on the possibility of another Manny-Marquez tussle.

"It's not my favorite fight," the trainer said. "We fought three times, Manny beat him two out of three times. I don't see the point in it. They know each other so well. If we can't get [Floyd] Mayweather, I don't see why we fight Marquez again."

Beyond Mayweather, Roach cited his desire to see Pacquiao face the winner of the scheduled Victor Ortiz-Andre Berto rematch, but our chat took place before Berto tested positive for nandrolone, scuttling the fight.

Any better ideas, Freddie?

"Brandon Rios makes a lot of noise," Roach said.

Karim Mayfield enters tonight's "Friday Night Fights" main event with what he believes to be a bit of a mental edge over foe Raymond Serrano. Both men were in Danny Garcia's camp ahead of Garcia's March 24 bout with Erik Morales, and Mayfield -- a 30-year-old San Francisco resident who is tutored by Andre Ward's trainer, Virgil Hunter, the 2011 BWAA Trainer of the Year -- approached Serrano.

"Wanna spar?" Mayfield asked Serrano. The Philadelphia-based boxer didn't bite.

Now, the possibility exists that the only reason Serrano didn't take Mayfield up on the offer was because he knew that they would soon be meeting in the ring for real. But Mayfield wonders ...

"His trainer said, 'They offered us a fight with you,'" Mayfield noted. "But they first said 'no.'"

Like us regular folk, boxers will attach themselves to a moment, and perseverate on it, to give themselves a mental boost when needed. Mayfield implies that Serrano didn't want any part of him at Garcia's camp, and also that he gave Garcia, who won a vacant 140-pound crown against the living legend Morales, the business in sparring.

"They put me in when Danny, who was primed and ready, so I got the best of him," Mayfield said. "He was at the top of his game -- he was peaking."

Mayfield (15-0-1, 9 KOs) has good skills and punching power, but he can sometimes appear awkward. One wonders if he isn't looking past the 22-year-old Serrano (18-0, 8 KOs), ranked No. 9 by the WBA, and Friday's clash at the Times Union Center in Albany, N.Y. If so, it could wind up biting him in the trunks.

"After this fight, I'm definitely going to be campaigning for a big fight," said Mayfield, ranked No. 9 by the WBO. "I think I should be in top contendership."

That's up for debate, frankly. Career-best wins over Steve Forbes and Patrick Lopez don't demand a zoom up the rankings ladder. Both have lost their past three bouts, which include 2011 losses to Mayfield.

All in all, I'd say it's preferable for a fighter to veer to a too-healthy appraisal of self rather than holding on to too much self-doubt. In that regard, Mayfield makes it clear in which camp his psyche lays. He says viewers tuning in tonight will see a bit of Roy Jones Jr., Willie Pep, Mike Tyson and Floyd Mayweather Jr. But this one looks like a coin flip. Serrano will look to touch up Mayfield's body, and although he doesn't possess scary power, he has a rock-solid skills base.

Among fans of all sports, I believe it behooves fight fans in particular to do their homework on a boxer, get into his backstory a bit, before weighing in on his talent or character.

Too often, I'm quick to judge this guy for coming in out of shape or that guy for not trying hard to rise off the canvas after being knocked down. A goodly percentage of the time, those fighters I've dissed or dismissed, or just critiqued a bit too hard from the comfort and safety of my sofa, have been working two or three jobs and sneaking in gym time when they can, while keeping hope alive that one day they'll topple that golden boy, get that title shot and win it, and live happily ever after.

Saturday night, when 99 percent of fight fans will be fixated on the goings-on in Las Vegas, Rudy Cisneros, a 30-year-old Chicago boxer, will try to topple his own golden boy foe, Demetrius Andrade, 24, at the Mohegan Sun in Uncasville, Conn. The fighters will headline a Saturday edition of "Friday Night Fights," which was put together at the last minute after promoter Golden Boy promised ESPN a headline bout featuring Daniel Ponce De Leon, and then pulled it, because it finalized a deal with Fox Sports Media Group.

Cisneros is a heavy underdog, to be sure. And if the long and lean Andrade (16-0, 11 KOs), a 2008 U.S. Olympian living in Rhode Island, does what many expect and stops Cisneros (12-3-1 NC, 11 KOs) inside 10 rounds of their junior middleweight bout, all of us should note for the record that Cisneros works two jobs or more at a time to keep his wife, three kids and himself afloat financially. He works delivering groceries for Peapod, and construction jobs when he finds them, and has also worked as a baggage handler at O'Hare Airport, his trainer George Hernandez tells us.

"Hey, it's the business of boxing," said Hernandez, who maintains that Cisneros no doubt has the pop to drop and stop Andrade if he catches him. "It's why everyone has to be ready all the time. We got word for this fight, like, three weeks ago. Andrade's people are looking for wins, trying to catch people sleeping. But it's up to Rudy to change the cards he's been dealt."

In other words, no, it's not ideal to begin training at 7 p.m. when you were up for work at 4 a.m., but it is what it is.

"It's what he wants to do," Hernandez said of Cisneros. "This is boxing, not the NFL. Only a select few have people excited about them. Others out there, nobody is interested in them. They are opponents."

Cisneros was on Season 2 of "The Contender," but he washed out early and was stuck in a Contender contract, Hernandez said, for too long. Cisneros has described himself as a "stalker" type in the ring, but we shall see how long that style lasts against the 6-foot-1 lefty Andrade, who has to know that Cisneros hasn't fought in a year and was stopped in Round 7 in his most recent outing, against Jonathan Gonzalez.

"Rudy has a dream to knock Demetrius out, get another payday," Hernadez said. "The Cotto-Mayweather fight might not be as exciting as Rudy's fight, or a fight involving a kid making $800. This is why this game of boxing is so unfair. But everyone has that hope and that dream, like the person who wants to win the $200 million Lotto. Everyone has the right to dream."

It appears on paper, Hernandez admits, that Andrade will pad his record, but the trainer ticks off a bunch of upsets in the past decade that remind us that paper is just paper. The ring is the thing.

"Demetrius hasn't tasted defeat," Hernandez said. "If he keeps boxing, he will taste defeat. One punch can change things. He'll taste defeat against Cisneros if he gets caught. But if I tell you we're gonna destroy this crafty lefty, I'd be lying. We know this is the toughest fight of Rudy's career. But we wouldn't be on our way to Connecticut if we didn't think this kid couldn't do it."

The best fighters need to want to face the best, Ismayl Sillakh says, or boxing risks going down the tubes.

And yes, in case you were wondering, the Ukrainian-born light heavyweight who this week headlines "Friday Night Fights" at the Erwin Center in Austin, Texas, against Denis Grachev, believes he belongs in the category of boxing's best.

Sillakh, 27, thought he would get to prove that against Jean Pascal, the former heavyweight titlist who holds a win over Chad Dawson and who drew and lost in two bouts against the ageless Bernard Hopkins. There was talk that Sillakh (17-0, 14 KOs) would glove up against Pascal last May, but that proved to be just talk. Sillakh, whose best win is a 10-round decision over Yordanis Despaigne in March 2011, suspects that Pascal is dodging him because he is too skilled and presents an immense risk. Sillakh's manager, Ivaylo Gotzev, thinks the same.

"Of course I'm a little biased, but Ismayl's as good as anybody out there at 175," said Gotzev, who also handles Samuel Peter and has worked with Vassiliy Jirov and Sergei Liakhovich. "He's fast and skilled, and people avoid fighting him. Chris Henry, Pascal, Zsolt Erdei, Chad Dawson -- they're all running. In my 20 years in management, Ismayl is the best talent I've had."

Gotzev is confident that his guy, ranked No. 2 by the WBC, will get the winner of Saturday's Bernard Hopkins-Chad Dawson fight in Atlantic City, N.J. ("The WBC ordered it," he said.) Hopkins, who turned 47 in January, is the underdog against the 29-year-old Dawson in a rematch of their October 2011 bout, which ended in Round 2 when Hopkins was unable to continue because of an injured left shoulder.

No offense intended to the 29-year-old Russian-born Grachev (11-0, 7 KOs), a former kickboxer who has been semi-inactive, finding it hard to secure fights.

For his part, Grachev, whose best win is a TKO of Vladine Biosse in May 2011, wasn't lacking for confidence on a phone call, telling ESPN.com that he is "going to break Sillakh."

And how will the 6-foot-1 righty achieve that? His right hand to the body will help do the trick, he says, though he acknowledges that Sillakh is rightfully seen as the favorite in the scrap.

"Sillakh is a very tough opponent, he's very good," Grachev said. He knows, having sparred a bit with Sillahk about a year ago.

Informed of Grachev's prediction, Sillakh, a 6-foot-3… right-hander, laughed. "It's fine," he said on the phone. "He's a good boxer, but I will bring him to school. He can do whatever he wants, but I think I will stop him in four or five rounds."

I expect Sillakh will do just that, because he has pop in both hands and some sweet feet. He dictates distance quite well, using his agility and foot speed to best effect, and with over 300 amateur fights tucked under his belt, he recognizes when he has his foe hurt and definitely seeks to exploit that.

Then he will turn his eyes to the men ahead of him in line, Dawson and Hopkins, and engage in some scouting.

"I will fight one of them sooner or later," said Sillakh, who now lives in California. "I came to this country in 2008 because it has good fighters and coaches. I don't understand why the best don't take the fights. If you're a fighter, you want to fight. You want to fight the best. If not, then boxing will go down."

I do not recall a pro fighter debuting at age 29, as Adonis Stevenson did, and being on the cusp of a title shot within five years.

The same goes for Emanuel Steward, Stevenson's trainer/manager. He wasn't aware of how late Stevenson (17-1, 14 KOs) had turned pro.

"That's amazing!" Steward said when I asked him about the late start for his boxer, who is ranked as high as No. 2 at super middleweight by the International Boxing Federation.

Steward is truly enamored of Stevenson, who was born in Haiti and has lived in Canada since he was 5, and the trainer proves his commitment by choosing to also manage his fighter. Steward is asked to manage fighters every day, but unless someone has the physical goods and a stellar work ethic, is open to tutoring and is a solid citizen outside the ring, he won't bother.

Steward, the godfather of Kronk, had received a call from a pal of Stevenson's asking him to hook up with the fighter. Yeah, yeah, Steward thought. Lo and behold, Stevenson showed up, and he didn't leave.

Steward was blown away when Stevenson once showed up at 11 p.m. at the trainer's house -- a two-mile jog from where the fighter was staying -- during a snowstorm. Steward offered to drive him home.

"That's OK, I'll just run home," Stevenson said.

"That's the kind of guy he is," Steward said.

Steward trained the fighter for three weeks leading up to his most recent bout, against 27-1 Jesus Gonzalez on Feb. 18. Stevenson knocked out Gonzalez in Round 1, his fourth straight knockout since being TKO'd by journeyman Darnell Boone in April 2010.

Now, Stevenson isn't a polished product, not like Steward's diamond centerpiece, Wladimir Klitschko. Stevenson has issues with balance, footwork and staying patient. But the trainer says all of that is improving. One thing that leaped out at me while I watched video of Stevenson, a 5-foot-11 southpaw, came in his February bout. He backed up Gonzalez with a lead hook and followed with a straight left that mummified the loser, literally leaving him on the canvas on his back with limbs stiffened from body shock.

And then Stevenson leaped in celebration, to the ceiling, with NBA-level hops. The guy has athleticism and explosivity, and if Steward can refine the rough edges, look out, 168-pound champs Andre Ward, Lucian Bute and Robert Stieglitz.

Steward told me he envisions Stevenson winning a crown, and there's something else he particularly likes about the "old" new kid on the block: "He's dangerous all the way through," Steward said. "We got some kind of weird-ass guy here, one of these stamina freaks." That may be aided by Stevenson's late start, as his body doesn't have much mileage on it.

One more thing: Steward loves Stevenson's mindset, in that he seeks to stop his foe. "There's nothing like knocking [expletive] out. That's what made [Mike] Tyson special. I train all my fighters to go for the KO. But they have the stamina in case it doesn't happen."

Across the ring at the Bell Centre in Montreal on this week's "Friday Night Fights" will be Noe Gonzalez, a 32-year-old fighter from Uruguay who is ranked No. 2 by the WBC. The 28-1 hitter, who lives in Argentina, has fought only once in the U.S., but remember on last week's FNF show, Albert Mensah, from Ghana? He had previously fought just once in the U.S., then showed ex-champ Michael Katsidis that he has the goods, winning a majority decision. Gonzalez is described by his adviser, Sampson Lewkowicz, as "a counterpuncher, very powerful, has well-educated defense, and his only problem is sometimes he's not very active."

So, is this one a toss-up?

"I know that Gonzalez will knock out Stevenson," Lewkowicz told me.

All right then.

Yes, Stevenson has been stopped before, by Boone. But Lewkowicz put that ending in context.

"On Friday, it will not be a bad night for Stevenson," he said. "It will be a KO by a better fighter. Stevenson is a good fighter, but he's not elite. Once Gonzalez wins, we look forward to continue fighting in Canada."

Those are fighting words, Lewkowicz promising a KO on Stevenson's turf and then saying that his guy will take over that turf, stealing market share.

Yes, I am officially pumped for this fight, and even if the show starts late, I promise I will not be a wuss like last week and DVR it. Mensah made me look foolish, so I'm nervous about picking a winner. Gonzalez looks more polished to me. He has power in both hands and mixes shots well. Stevenson will need to be ready to dodge or absorb straight shots, left hooks and the odd uppercut. With great internal conflict, I'm leaning toward Gonzalez, liking his experience and polish.

In the ring, Floyd Mayweather Jr. can be relied upon to show off a stunning skill set of pugilistic tools that have made him the sport's acknowledged pound-for-pound kingpin. Outside the ring, when there's a microphone around, Mayweather frequently shows off a personality that quickly puts people who absorb the "Money" persona in a "love him" or a "hate him" camp.

As for which camp the folks at PETA, People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, have taken to, well, let's just say they probably won't be buying the Mayweather-Miguel Cotto pay-per-view on May 5 to cheer on the 35-year-old ace pugilist/buzz creator.

On Saturday's debut screening of HBO's "24/7" miniseries, the docu-drama/info-tainment effort to educate fans and potential buyers of the May 5 event, Mayweather was questioned by an off-camera interviewer about his training camp.

"In this training camp, we're boxing nonstop, and when we get in the ring, it's called the doghouse," Mayweather said. "So if you look at the ring, it's always surrounded by a bunch of people, 'cause that's the doghouse. When you go to a dog fight and you watch pit bulls fight ..." And here he pauses, seeming to understand he has entered into iffy, Michael Vick-ian territory.

He continues: "I don't want to get in trouble by -- what's the people called, PETA? I don't want to get in trouble with the PETA people, but ... the animal rights people, but s---, I don't give a f---, 'cause I wear mink coats. I'm gonna wear chinchilla and I'm gonna rock mink coats. The same people want to tell you, 'You can't wear animal fur and s---, them's the same people that's eating chickens, eating cows, eating steak. So f--- what they're talking about."

When informed about the diatribe, PETA launched a counterpunch at Mayweather. After watching the segment, a spokesperson offered PETA's official statement on the matter:

"People who proudly admit to wearing fur are either ignorant or arrogant about animal suffering. And people who allude to attending dogfights are inviting the authorities to investigate a potential felony. PETA promotes living compassionately, including choosing vegan meals, but you don't have to be a vegetarian to object to a cruel blood 'sport' in which dogs are left mangled, bloody, soaked in urine and saliva, and unable to walk, and the 'losers' are killed for not having been 'game.' Unless Floyd Mayweather's agent will strangle, shoot or beat him to death if he loses, his comparing boxing to dogfighting is as absurd as it is offensive."

Also, Mayweather's claim that PETA advocates who lobby against the fur trade also chow down on meat -- that didn't pass my sniff test. My wife and kids are vegan, and I have a bit of knowledge on the subject. PETA weighed in on that notion as well:

"PETA has an all-vegan office policy, and the people who work for PETA do so because they are driven by the cause to end cruelty to animals. Typically, the majority of employees are already vegetarian or vegan when they come to PETA."

He has had a stellar camp, he says, and friends tell him they haven't seen him this amped and looking this fresh right before a fight in years. He has a new trainer, whom he says is as hands-on and experienced as any he has dealt with ... but Michael Katsidis concedes that he won't truly know what he has left until he steps into the ring against Albert Mensah for this week's "Friday Night Fights" main event at the Hard Rock in Las Vegas.

When Katsidis arrived on our radar screens, he immediately showed a style that suggested longevity wouldn't be one of his hallmarks. After his fan-friendly (if not body- and brain-friendly) rumbles with Joel Casamayor, Juan Diaz, Jesus Chavez, Vicente Escobedo and Juan Manuel Marquez, we are left to wonder how much longer the Australian-born California resident will ply this savage trade.

After scoring a third-round knockdown of Marquez before ultimately being stopped in their November 2010 clash, Katsidis was handled easily by Robert Guerrero in April 2011. He stopped journeyman Michael Lozada four months later, and in his most recent outing, Katsidis dropped a unanimous decision to solid Scot Ricky Burns in a bid for an interim lightweight crown.

I put it to the 31-year-old Katsidis bluntly: How much do you have left?

"I'm curious myself. It's wait-and-see," he said via phone. "I've been strong in the gym. I have a good trainer, Justin Fortune, I'm working with. I'm at an important stage of my career. I think it will be a turning point."

Make no mistake, the vibe I got from Katsidis isn't one of a vet playing out the string or a guy with half his arse in the hammock.

"I'm enjoying what I'm doing," he said. "You've been at this a long time. Let me ask you: Do I sound shot?"

No, indeed.

The 29-year-old Ghana-born Mensah (19-3-1, 7 KOs) shouldn't be a bridge too far for the rugged brawler, who seems genetically unable to think of taking a backward step in a fight. Katsidis sees Mensah -- who lives in Chicago but whose only fight on U.S. soil came in his most recent bout, last July's 12-round majority decision win against Andre Gorges -- as a rangy hitter but something of a wild card.

"With Ghanians," Katsidis said, "you can expect the unexpected."

I expect that unless training has been but a cruel mirage for Katsidis, he will impose his will and heavy power advantage on the 5-foot-10 underdog, who will need to be ultra-crafty to keep from being stopped early in the tangle.

That the bout will be conducted at junior welterweight instead of lightweight figures to help Katsidis. Fortune told me he was aghast to learn that the 5-7 Katsidis had been sweating off weight in a sauna right before fights, instead of paring down gradually, so the trainer thinks his fighter should have an uptick in the stamina department going forward. I asked Fortune, an Australian ex-heavyweight (15-9-2 in 1990-2001, with one comeback loss in 2009), how much he believes his countryman has left.

"You can't tell until he gets into the ring," Fortune said. "We'll know in this fight.
But I'd say he has a few fights left, probably three fights left."

In their first fight together, Fortune wants Katsidis to add a bit more head movement into the mix, pick his spots more often, remain balanced and fight at a measured pace. But the trainer knows the 10-year vet is what he is, and it's hard to rejigger a fighter's style after so many years.

"He won two titles on sheer guts -- sheer balls and guts," Fortune said. "You have to stop him to actually stop him. There are not a lot of them left; they are a dying breed."

Which is why Katsidis is probably right -- that we aren't likely to again see him on FNF.

"My next fight is going to be a huge fight," he said, when asked what would come if he gets past Mensah. "If I couldn't beat the best, I wouldn't do it. And boxing fans appreciate my style."

That they do. Expect Katsidis to wear down Mensah by Round 7 and make him regret relocating to the U.S. to make his mark. And if Katsidis makes it out without getting cut, you should see him shoot up the ranking at 140 pounds, snagging a title shot by late summer.

People often bring up the downsides of boxing, focusing on the savagery they see in the ring and the unfortunate toll not infrequently seen decades later in boxers, including slurred speech and dementia intensified by brain damage suffered from trading blows.

Less often do people focus on one of the sports' major upsides, namely that by giving young men who were on a path that promised incarceration and/or premature death of a violent nature, for them and/or others who crossed their paths, boxing likely reduces carnage that affects friends, families and neighborhoods.

Hank Lundy fights at Foxwoods Resort in Mashantucket, Conn., in the main event of this week's "Friday Night Fights," and although he views a win in that fight against Dannie Williams as a stepping stone to the lightweight title shot that would go a long way toward providing for his four children, really Lundy has already proven himself a high achiever in the game. Because if he hadn't taken up boxing as a teen and stuck with it to this point, Hank Lundy would be dead.

This isn't me overwriting for dramatic effect, making an assumption for the sake of trying to deliver an impact. That Lundy (21-1-1, with 11 KOs) would be dead if not for boxing comes from the mouth of the man himself.

Lundy, 28 and born, bred and living in Philadelphia, will battle St. Louis native Dannie Williams, who himself was once a good bet to suffer a cold, hard, premature end, probably on the wrong end of a handgun.

"If it wasn't for boxing, I'm not gonna lie: I'd be dead," Lundy told me in a phone interview on Wednesday.

"I was growing up on the streets of South Philly since my mom was in the hospital," he said, referring to his mom, Kimberly, who has long battled schizophrenia. "By age 13, I was on the street hanging with older guys, who had guns and were selling drugs. When I was 13, I got into a fight with a guy and beat him up bad. I wasn't that big then, and I'm not that big now. His big brother, who was like 25, smacked me with a gun in the face."

His face and pride busted up, Lundy was planning revenge and upping the ante. But before that could go down, his aunt, Denise Bennett, swooped in and got custody of him, his brothers and his sisters. "I never got back to that situation," Lundy said. "That was God's way of keeping me out of harm's way."

Lundy found an outlet and a passion in sports, including football. He was offered a scholarship to play ball at Crookstown University, but there wasn't enough money to attend. At 18, his uncle got him into a gym, and it stuck. He had about 70 amateur bouts and turned pro in 2006. In his most recent outing, in August 2011 on FNF, he stopped vet David Diaz in the sixth after getting dropped in the fourth round. FNF watchers might recall his step-up bout with John Molina in July 2010, which resulted in Lundy's sole loss, via 11th-round TKO.

Lundy, the NABF lightweight champ, wants to prove he is among the world elite at lightweight. But he's already in the top tier in the trash-talk department.

"Dannie's fought nobody," Lundy told me. "I'm not sleeping on him, but he doesn't belong in the ring with me. He's stepping in the way of my kids trying to succeed. I'm pissed about that. I'm really gonna hurt him. I'm going to beat him no problem."

Lundy's kids are ages 10, 9, 7, 5 and 3, and the fighter is looking ahead to college tuition. That motivation, he said, sets him apart from many other hitters, those who want to succeed to benefit themselves. "I didn't have a chance to go to college," Lundy said. "I want to make sure their dreams come true."

Beyond his kids, Lundy told me he is dedicating this fight, which he predicts he will win inside the distance, to slain Florida teenager Trayvon Martin and Martin's mother, who had a stint in a hospital to deal with her schizophrenia and was released just last week.

"A lot of these guys are fighting for nothing," he said. "I'm fighting for something. That's six people, and now seven with the young man that passed. I'm fighting for justice. Me being in the ring is my way of venting, especially the stuff with my mom. Me being in the ring is God's blessing; I could be on the street hurting somebody."

Williams, 27, has a track record of hurting people in the ring. With a 21-1 record and 17 KOs, he has won nine in a row, seven by stoppage. Williams now lives in Youngstown, Ohio, and is trained by Jack Loew, the man who guided Kelly Pavlik from the Silver Mittens to a middleweight championship. Like Lundy, Williams danced with the devil that is the streets, and was busted for assault in 2006. He served 30 months, and looking back is grateful that he did the time.

"Since then," he told me, "I've been on the straight and narrow."

Lundy's talk has jazzed up Williams, giving him extra motivation to drop and stop Hammerin' Hank, likely with his game-changing right hand.

"Yeah, I want to knock Lundy out. I want to knock everybody out if I can, but I want to make sure I knock him out; I want to knock him out cold. Everything he's saying is a joke. He talks like I ain't nobody. That makes me mad. I've never lost, I've never been dropped. He's doing too much talking already: 'He's learning on the job, he's not naturally talented.'"

Lundy has been in tougher than Williams, who is coming off a stoppage win over 33-17-6 Fernando Trejo. Lundy's chin can be checked, but as he points out, he usually pops back up.

Loew foresees a challenging first few rounds for his guy, but "once he lands a good shot, the scenario changes. Dannie is the hardest puncher I've ever had, he hits hard with both hands. You know, I had Kelly Pavlik -- he can punch -- but it's scary how hard [Williams] can hit."

So how does he beat Lundy, specifically? "By backing him up," Loew said. "He's got to outwork him, stay disciplined, stick to the game plan, work the body the first four or five rounds."

Sounds convincing, but Lundy has had to negotiate choppier waters as a pro. I suspect he'll face some Friday -- and he'll know what to do. Without much conviction, I like Lundy by decision. But more importantly, I will be focusing Friday night on the fact that this sport has served both these fighters well, provided a beacon to follow and thus benefited society mightily as a whole.

I confess: I often make a prediction on who will win each week's "Friday Night Fights" main event based more so on what the boxers say to me, and how they say it, than on their respective styles or strengths.

After talking to both Roberto Garcia (30-3, 21 KOs), a 31-year-old Mexican-born Texas resident, and Antwone Smith (21-3-1, 12 KOs), a 25-year-old living in Miami, I'm leaning toward Garcia at the Pharr Events Center in Pharr, Texas, on Friday night.

Garcia, as much as any of the main-eventers I've chatted with this season, blended fire and confidence when I spoke with him. And here's an X factor: Twenty-four days ago, his first child, a little girl named Gia, was born. Garcia flew from his camp in New Jersey, fingers crossed all the way that wife Adriana wouldn't deliver the bundle until papa made it to the delivery room.

"I saw the birth, and then it was right back to camp," Garcia told me on Wednesday.

I asked him if being a dad changes how he sees himself as a fighter. He said he's now different as an all-around human being.

"More important than changing me as a boxer, it changed me as person," said Garcia, who is best known for losing to Antonio Margarito in the latter's first fight back after PlasterGate. "It does change my responsibilities. It's made me think about everything I do, how I talk to you. Before, I was alone, I'd be with different kinds of people. Now I have a beautiful wife and baby, and I want to be with them more than anyone."

A busy fighter who likes to come forward and bang, and who has a left hook that Smith has to watch out for, Garcia said fans can expect an action fight Friday. He won't look for the knockout, saying that stoppage-hunting has gotten him into trouble in the past. But his confidence was lifted by the 10-round unanimous decision loss to Margarito in May 2010, as it proved to him that he can hang with the big boys.

Now, none of this is to say Smith came off like a reluctant warrior, or gave off vibes that he wasn't ready to rumble. In fact, he told me he considers this as a "must-win" fight. He lost a decision in his signature bout, against Kermit Cintron on Aug. 12, but he insists he should've been given a draw, at worst. In November, Smith got back on a winning track, winning an eight-round unanimous decision against Yoryi Estrella in Miami. He said he learned from the Cintron fight, gaining valuable experience.

Smith has admitted before that he has been dismayed by the what-have-you-done-for-me-lately attitude of the media and fans, and their (our) tendency to build up a fighter and then just as gleefully tear him down, but he didn't revisit that topic with me on the phone.

No, he hasn't seen any video of Garcia ("a fight is a fight"), and he ended with a message for those who don't care for his habit of grunting like Monica Seles when he throws. That's probably a habit he picked up from being in the gym so many years with master grunter Glen Johnson, he said, and if you don't like it, "you can watch the fight on mute."

Neither man is a mad bomber, so I expect a distance scrap. Smith will likely have more snap in his launches than you saw against Cintron, but I expect Garcia's physical strength to be a considerable edge, and see him taking a unanimous decision.

ESPN.com's Michael Woods caught up with middleweight champion Sergio Martinez at Thursday's media conference in New York City to promote Martinez's title fight against Matthew Macklin at the Madison Square Garden Theater on Saturday. When told that Macklin had suggested Martinez, at 37, might be primed for a loss, the Argentine champ responded through manager and translator Sampson Lewkowicz: "After I beat him by KO, definitely he will change his mind." Check out the whole interview above.

ESPN.com's Michael Woods joined middleweight challenger Matthew Macklin atop New York City's Empire State Building ahead of Macklin's title fight against champion Sergio Martinez on Saturday. Macklin called the matchup, which will be held at the Madison Square Garden Theater, "a life-changing fight." Watch the entire clip above.

It stands as one of my favorite boasty quotes from a fighter: "I don't lay down, I lay backs down!" Kendall Holt told me before he gloved up with Danny Garcia last October at the Staples Center in Los Angeles. The quote didn't match reality, as Holt added a loss to his ledger. He looked fairly flat against Garcia, who made true believers of some pundits who weren't sure whether he was more hype than substance.

Holt (27-5, 15 KOs), a former junior welterweight champ, will face Tim Coleman (19-2-1, 5 KOs) in the main event of "Friday Night Fights" at the Morongo Casino in Cabazon, Calif.

Thursday morning -- and I do mean morning, because I am a moron when it comes to time zones -- I reached out to Holt for a chat. At 6 a.m. California time. The fighter was well within his rights to inform me of my moron status, but a gracious Holt instead offered, "Mr. Woods, it is 6 a.m.!"

"Sleep!" I told him, horrified at my gaffe.

"But since the early bird catches the worm and I have to lose three pounds, I'm up," he answered.

Holt said he won't go overboard looking to make good on that clever "lay backs down," line, but knowing full well that Coleman is coming off a TKO loss to Vernon Paris in his most recent outing, he won't be shy about looking for the right spot to end it early.

"I won't zero in on it and waste rounds like I did against Garcia and Timothy Bradley [a unanimous decision loss in a 2009 title defense]," he said.

Despite what Wayne Hedgepeth said, Holt did indeed look like a lesser version of his best self against Garcia. Hedgepeth, who should be banned from judging bouts until his vision and faculties are checked, saw Holt as a 115-113 winner. The two judges who had it 117-111 were in the ballpark. So why didn't Holt make it a harder night for Garcia? The boxer, 2-3 in his past five tussles, explained that he had been sparring only once a week in Jersey and in California leading up to the scrap, but this time around training is going full steam ahead.

The legend Roy Jones Jr. will work his corner, which many of us hope is an indicator of what the 43-year-old former pound-for-pound ace will concentrate on full time going forward. Holt said his dad had been training him, for the first time since he was an amateur in 1998, but because he needed surgery on his foot to repair a bone spur, Holt called up Jones and asked him to fill in. Jones pondered, and said, "I'm there!"

Holt, 30, knows his ring days are numbered. He has been going to school to become a physical therapist, but he believes he still has something to offer the sport. Making 140 is a stiff task as he ages, which is why the Coleman bout is contracted for a 144 max. (Holt said it's not a big deal for him to have to lose three pounds on weigh-in day. He usually has to lose seven or eight pounds on the day of weigh-in, he said. He also told me that he just learned he has been cutting weight and re-hydrating improperly, so after this bout, he should be able to employ correct methods to get to a proper weight.)

The extra weight could be a solid plus for Holt, who owns a left hook that Coleman must be on the lookout for. I expect Holt, who typically gets the better of B-level boxers, to get the nod at Morongo. Coleman, 27, has talked some trash -- "Holt is lacking heart," he said. "I think his heart has pretty much always been in question" -- but he's known for being a bit more effective in the trash-talk arena than the actual arena. And he might be mentally drained, as the sport hasn't treated him with much dignity or income.

At Moronogo, with Jones there to offer tactical and strategic insight, Holt just might make good on his "lay backs down" boast.

The TV powers that be in the sport will put up with a good amount of B.S. and still book fighters into meaningful bouts. You can be a loose cannon, or a loudmouth who talks smack and then fights scared, or be prone to a party-boy lifestyle that leaves room for only intermittent training. But as long as you show up for the weigh-in, make the weight and the show goes on, you will get gigs.

But those gigs will be much more scarce if you screw up on the scale. If you throw a wrench into the gears of the promotion, as Joan Guzman did a few times, your viability in the business can tank hard and fast. And once you have that rep, as a fighter who is too friendly with the fridge, it can be a hard slog back to getting people to trust you so that they book you for decent gigs.

Guzman is one of my favorite fighters to watch when he's on his game. He is master of his domain between the ropes, using ring generalship and flashy combos and deft movement -- to the point that he had become one of the top Dominican boxers of his era. But recent struggles with the scale have left his rep in tatters, and he has embarked on a mission to make people forget a few years' worth of screwups.

Guzman, 35, will get another shot at the spotlight on this week's "Friday Night Fights," against Jesus Pabon at the Westin Diplomat Resort in Hollywood, Fla. It looked like it would never again shine on him after Guzman showed up heavy for a September 2008 title fight with Nate Campbell, causing the cancellation of a Showtime show, and then was nine pounds over the 135-pound max for a March 2010 rematch with Ali Funeka. One might think a lesson would have be learned; but Guzman came in three pounds over in his next fight, against Jason Davis in December 2010, and then had that win changed to a no-contest because he tested positive for a diuretic.

The message Guzman sent on those occasions: I do not take this seriously, I am not an athlete-entertainer who respects the show and you put me on your program at your own peril. Golden Boy heard that loud and clear; the promoter dumped Guzman from his promotional deal after the Davis bout.

The fighter now swears up, down and around that he is a changed man, one who takes his craft seriously, who will show the fight world that he still has skills, enough to take another run at the big guns at 140 and thereabouts.

Guzman is ranked No. 8 by the IBF at junior welterweight. Though his nickname, "Little Tyson," has fallen into disuse, he was a major player in the pound-for-pound mix not too terribly long ago. He won a 122-pound title in 2002 and a 130-pound crown in 2006. He came pretty close to securing a bout with Manny Pacquiao, but that fell through and then the bottom fell out. Guzman told me not long ago that it stung when people shunned him after he lost some luster.

"I like the fans, I like the kids coming up to me. But I understand people are mad at me," he said. "People say, 'Guzman has no respect for the sport.' I feel bad for that. I changed everything. They say, 'Guzman had a lot of talent, he didn't respect that.' I had a lot of friends that are not friends anymore. I have a couple of friends now, they are good friends."

Emotional issues, stemming from his mother's fight with brain cancer, which she lost in the summer of 2009, took Guzman's focus off boxing and made him susceptible to eating to pacify himself. He says he's now dialed in.

"Me not making weight, that changed my mind. Now I'm focused on boxing," he said. "In the past, I had too many problems and didn't think too much of boxing. Now I put 200 percent into my career."

In his most recent outing, Guzman (31-0-1 with 18 KOs) shed some rust and worked toward restoring some of that shine when he showed up on weight and KO'd Florencio Castellano in the Dominican Republic last November.

Pabon comes into Friday's bout with a 17-2 record, with 11 KOs. The Puerto Rican lefty is 31 years old and last fought in June 2011, suffering a TKO2 loss to Javier Castro. He is of a higher caliber than Castellano. (Note: I watched and rewatched a replay of that ending, trying to see how much of Guzman's finishing uppercut landed on Castellano. It was my Zapruder film for a day or so.)

Jose Bonilla, Pabon's manager-trainer, thinks and hopes Guzman is a faded being: "I think he's not the same Guzman that he used to be eight, 10 years ago. Guzman is a big name. A victory against Guzman will be great for Pabon's career."

I expect Guzman to be too slick for Pabon. If so, we're left to wonder what comes next. The fighter has targeted Amir Khan, Marcos Maidana and Manny Pacquaio. Henry Rivalta acknowledged to me that Guzman needs to win about four or five more bouts to get suits and fans believing that his woes are ancient history.

"We want Pacman," Rivalta said. "We're the exact same size, height, reach. We're willing to go to 147."

Do I think Guzman can soldier on, keep on acting like a pro and get back to the bigger stages, ensuring his legacy isn't one of unfulfilled promise? I don't know. But as one who has been known to utilize a bowl of ice cream to pacify, I do root for him.

[On Thursday, Guzman came in over the contracted weight on his first weigh-in attempt. Rivalta said the fighter weighed 140.4, stepped off to skip rope for a spell, then made 140. Does it disturb the promoter that Guzman was over? "We had made him weigh in before the fight in our gym, and he was on weight," he said. "The commission scale read 140.4. I was confident he'd get that off, and he did. I'm very proud of Guzman and proud to be his promoter."]