GATTI-WARD: ANOTHER EPIC TRILOGY

May 29, 2003 - by William Dettloff

When Arturo Gatti and Micky Ward renew hostilities on June 7 in Atlantic City, it most assuredly will be for the final time. And not because Ward has said it will be his last fight, because you know how that goes. It will be the final time because we will have seen everything there is that these two can do to one another in a prize ring. First we saw Ward out-slug Gatti in a wonderful contest of wills and brawn that, at its essence, was a magnificent bar fight. In the second we saw Gatti's legs and improbable triumph over instinct lead him to a win nearly as dramatic. One or the other will happen in the rubber match, and barring the occurrence of something unusual, it will be sufficient to prove which fighter is the better one. The debate will be settled. That is the reason most great series end at three: three is enough to end the debate. Any more is too much. There are exceptions of course, but generally, three will do it. It's enough to establish who is better.

The debate between Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier ended on a humid afternoon in Manila in October 1975 when Eddie Futch acted on the belief that a last, remote chance of landing the hook and winning the heavyweight title wasn't worth a man's life, even a fighter's, and stopped it in the corner after the 14th round. It didn't matter that Frazier had whipped Ali four years earlier in the biggest fight the game had seen in 30 years, and, as if to emphasize the point, had dropped Ali with the hook in the 15th round.

Frazier had hung with Ali too in their comparatively anti-climactic rematch in New York in January '74 and so there was every reason to believe, going into the third fight, that he still might prove Ali's equal. He nearly did. Ali peppered him in the early rounds but in the fight's midsection Frazier grunted and snorted his way inside, got Ali to the ropes in the Manila heat and worked him over. But he wasn't Ali's equal. Ali was better and no one, least of all the fighters, needed another trip into hell to confirm it. Three times was enough.

As great as the series was, no one needed a fourth fight between Rocky Graziano and Tony Zale. In their first fight for the middleweight world title, in September 1946, Graziano was pounding the daylights out of Zale before he hung his chin out there and Zale, who could knock you out with his eyes closed, found it with a left hook in the sixth round -- end of fight. The rematch was a natural and this time it was Zale who started fast, trying to get it over with before Graziano could land his right. He battered Graziano around the ring but couldn't get him out and eventually, the right hand started landing. And this time it was Zale who went out in the sixth. So they made the rubber match to end the debate. Zale blew him out in three rounds. There was no drama and no more debate.

A full 15 years before Zale and Graziano nearly killed one another trying to find who was the better fighter - and to pocket a few bucks along the way if they could - lightweight great Tony Canzoneri and Jackie "Kid" Berg engaged their own great trilogy. In January 1930 Berg decisioned Canzoneri over 10 rounds in Madison Square Garden in a huge fight. It was the worst beating the streaking Canzoneri had taken and he yearned for a return. They rematched 15 months later with the world lightweight and junior welterweight titles on the line and Canzoneri came through like the future hall of famer he was, beating up Berg and flattening him with a right hand in the third round. They weren't done. Despite the decisiveness and clarity of Canzoneri's knockout win, the debate continued and they met again in September '31 for the lightweight world title. Canzoneri did enough over the distance to take the 15-round decision and although between the two of them Canzoneri and Berg would fight on for years and against hundreds of opponents, they never again fought one another. It wasn't necessary.

By the end of his trilogy with Roberto Duran, the excellent Esteban DeJesus probably wished it had never gotten started. You couldn't blame him. In a non-title bout in November 1972 at Madison Square Garden, he floored and decisioned the hitherto unbeaten lightweight champion over 10 hard rounds. In the rematch two years later in Panama, Duran got his revenge, stopping DeJesus in 11 rounds but again he had to get off the canvas to do it. DeJesus knew how to counter Duran's angry rushes with a well timed left hook and it gave Duran fits. In the rubber match Duran changed strategies, boxing patiently and wearing down his nemesis with a brutal body attack. It paid off. He stopped DeJesus in the 12th and if they didn't know before, everyone knew then who was the best lightweight fighter in the world. It didn't take a fourth fight. Three was enough. It'll be enough for Gatti and Ward, too.

Bill Dettloff can be reached at dettloff@ptd.net