By Jason Hirtler: Shakur Stevenson earned another important victory last weekend. Well, definitive is a controversial word here. Stevenson is not an outgoing artist; he is a defensive specialist. And as he said after his victory over Artem Harutyunyan, against fellow lightweight champion Tank Davis,
“People are blessed with different abilities. He's blessed with the ability that if he throws it, nine times out of ten he'll come down. I am blessed with wonderful eyes; I see fists coming towards me and I run away from them. They are probably judging me by his size. In the end, he is a martial artist, he is a special warrior, but I am also special myself.”
Stevenson, once a flashy, wildly popular champion from the tough streets of Newark, New Jersey, is now an established multi-class lightweight champion—feeling the heat to enhance the entertainment value of his matches.
He hasn't had a proper KO in eight fights. He eliminated less than half of his opponents. He went on to win after victory on the scorecards against fighters who posed little threat to his combination of speed and power. Harutyunyan was the epitome of a calculated adversary: a powerful, hard-working fighter who had absolutely no chance of a quick exit or defeat against Stevenson and clearly lost on the cards.
Davis, the opponent that Shakur must eventually face, brings people out. There is brutality in his battles, shooting arrows with evil intent, attracting followers. Brutal demolition (Leo Santa Cruz), crippled body beating (Ryan Garcia), and the like. Davis has struck out 28 of 30 opponents.
Boxers & Brigands
As time goes on, the contrast between Stevenson and Davis is drawn into high relief. It's not the age difference between a slugger and a boxer. Davis is a polished boxer with heavy hands. But a fundamental opposition exists: the risk of power versus the safety of speed, the risk-taking of a knockout artist versus the vigilance and control of a professional boxer.
It's hard not to draw comparisons between Stevenson and Mayweather. Undoubtedly, some will talk about the technical difference and declare anyone who suggests such a comparison to be 'absurd,' which is a horrifying target for any boxing fan whose opinion offends refined human sensibilities.
Still, as a live person, Mayweather was the ultimate salesman who could sell any fight with wit, humor, insults, and arrogance in world history. Then, in the ring, he performed the magic of denial. He appeared to be presenting himself with the damage but did not stick around to find it. He makes talented opponents look like myopic, plodding one-punch chancers. He gave up talent. He wrote the ability. Yes, he was a fierce and accurate opponent; it wasn't all about defense.
But the build-up—the anticipation—was often better than the main event. At least in the previous weeks, haters can turn themselves into arguments, trying to believe that the challenger can win. Then, the brutal truth of Floyd's evil genius revealed itself.
Same with Shakur. I tried to excuse Oscar Valdez from shooting Stevenson, but I knew better despite the little man's tenacity. There was no such pretense with Harutyunyan. At least let the little person be physically strong. Fighting small men is a losing proposition from the start.
Shakur will have to come to terms with the fact that his style is not a crowd pleaser.
He's the Ty Cobb of a Babe Ruth-loving world. The deadeye-drive hitter in the league who likes the long ball.
He's the average genius in the world who only wants to watch Steph Curry make threes.
He will be fully informed when he invites danger into the ring. Tank, Lomachenko, Keyshawn Davis, and maybe a healthy Ryan Garcia. Even Navarrete. Then he'll have to move up in weight and fight big men—Isaac Cruz, Teofimo, then welterweight.
Comprehensive Test (or Two)
Roberto Duran was probably the best lightweight in history, dominating the division for ten years, but he made his name at welterweight and middleweight, fighting stronger men, half of whom beat him. But he showed his greatness in victory and defeat, in the face of great danger. His contempt for Marvin Hagler, even in defeat, defined the man almost as much as his victory over American superstar, Sugar Ray Leonard.
But Ray then used his Shakur skill, speed, and location, to dominate Duran in return. That is Shakur's challenge. Face the risk of defeat, of shame, of a tarnished record. Then answer.
We have never seen Mayweather lose. It would be interesting to see his reaction. We have never seen Jordan's bulls lose in the finals. It's such a story that they were watching trying to hit a nail and get back to the top. Marciano didn't lose, but Joe Louis did, to Max Schmeling. The tournament was a defining moment for the Brown Bomber. (Interestingly, Louis, who ruled the heavyweight division for 12 years, once said, “Everybody has to think they can be beaten at some point.”)
Similarly, or not identically, we saw the high limits of Deontay Wilder's talent in the Fury trilogy. The biggest challenges aren't always the best. But greatness requires a fighter to at least face them.
Shakur's greatness is still embryonic. I personally am excited to see it emerge from its chrysalis. It can take wing or fall with the weight of gravity, ending up in the stratosphere or on the bloody apron of the ring. It's time for Shakur to face the challenge, time to step on the edge of the abyss.
Jason Hirtler is an author and sports marketing veteran. He has led the digital promotion of many boxing and mixed martial arts events. He lives and works in New York City.
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