Marco and Erik go to Canastota.

It sounds like a second rate Cheech and Chong, but Erik Morales and Marco Antonio Barrera are about as far removed from bumbling stoners as you can get. For in these two Mexican warriors, there burns a competitive fire the likes of

which can be found in only a handful of fighters in the world. Their three fights have been testament to that. In part one, wild back and forth trading punctuated the evening, when one fighter looked beaten, he called on all of his courage and strength to come back even harder. It seemed that being shaken by a shot just drove them to swing harder punches of their own. Most observers believed Barrera deserved the nod by a whisker, but instead Morales walked away with a razor thin split decision. This fight was, until Saturday night, the best fight I’d ever seen.

Part two was not quite as engaging, but riveting nonetheless. Both men fought more cautiously, having gained enormous respect for the power and guts of the other. It was however, still better than 95% of the fights I watch on television. When judges cards were tallied, this time it was Barrera who took a unanimous but thin verdict. Most observers thought Morales did enough. Saturday nights fight was in the super featherweight division, 130-pounds, for the WBC and IBF championships of the world. Both Morales and Barrera won their first world titles at 122-pounds, but Morales, the bigger framed man, always seemed destined to fight at 130. Barrera seemed far more suited to fighting at featherweight and come fight time, an unofficial weigh in had Barrera outweighed by eleven pounds.

The conventional thinking in boxing is that a good big guy beats a good little guy. Recent history has shown this to be truer than ever: Hopkins-De La Hoya, De La Hoya-Chavez, Lewis-Holyfield to name but a few. But Saturday night’s fight was not about weight. It was not about records, or pay-per-view numbers, or money, or even the two world championship belts on the line. This fight was all that is beautiful about our sport. It was man against man, to see who the better man was. Barrera-Morales three was about pride. Pride in yourself, pride in your city, pride in your country, pride in your performance. The record books will show that Barrera took out a slim majority decision and I believed he deserved a slight edge. But it doesn’t really matter who won this fight. In the end, we all won.

The boxers cemented their legacy and place in the hall of fame. The fans were treated to probably the greatest fight they’ll ever see. It is both a blessing and a shame that Barrera and Morales have such a disdain for each other. A blessing because without it we would probably not have been treated to thirty-six rounds of such violent beauty, a shame because it would be great for them to show the respect they have professionally for each other personally. Somewhere out there I see a wizened Barrera and Morales, sitting down together in a quiet bar having a beer. Morales has his arm around Barrera and both men are smiling and laughing, talking about left hooks that landed or didn’t land, uppercuts they didn’t see
coming, busted noses, near knockdowns and blind judges.

Perhaps it will happen in Canastota.

Greig Johnston can be reached at levibillups@yahoo.com