CRUISE CONTROL
Usyk dominates Gassiev to become the undisputed cruiser king and the rst WBSS champ, writes Elliot Worsell
FAR from the classic brawl we anticipated, the World Boxing Super Series (WBSS) cruiserweight final between Oleksandr
Usyk and Murat Gassiev instead ended up being one of the most one-sided fights between elite boxers you’re likely to see in 2018.
Thirty-one-year-old Usyk, a narrow favourite, dominated every aspect of the fight in Moscow, Russia, barely put a foot wrong for 12 rounds, and was rewarded for this perfection with a 120108, 119-109 and 119-109 decision on the judges’ scorecards, as well as the Muhammad Ali trophy (awarded to the WBSS tournament winner) and the WBA, WBC, IBF and WBO cruiserweight titles, two of which, the WBA and IBF, previously belonged to Gassiev, 24.
The fact that fans were deprived of the war they expected but came away feeling satisfied is no doubt a testament to Usyk’s performance. His mastery, the work produced on the face and body of Gassiev, stifled any chance of chaos yet simultaneously left those starved of chaos – the bloodthirsty – slack-jawed in amazement, wondering not only why we ever deemed this fight, on paper, to be competitive but also now considering Usyk’s chances of doing the same to a number of heavyweights. There is talk, for example, of him moving up and dethroning WBA, IBF and WBO champion Anthony Joshua, a powerhouse very A-B-C in his approach, and perhaps doing the same to WBC champion Deontay Wilder, a reckless gunslinger with as many technical flaws as knockouts. Usyk, meanwhile, seems to have Tony Bellew, a cruiserweight-cum-heavyweight who has never lost at cruiserweight, in his immediate sights.
‘HEY, TONY BELLEW, ARE YOU READY? I HOPE HE WILL SEE ME TALKING’
“I have heard that Tony Bellew wants to fight the winner of the Muhammad Ali trophy,” Usyk said post-fight. “I hope he will see me talking. ‘Hey, Tony Bellew, are you ready?’
“If he doesn’t want to go down, I will go up for him. I will eat more spaghetti for my dinner!”
Rest assured, any potential Usyk heavyweight experiment won’t be launched on a foundation of carbohydrates and weightlifting. Conversely, one imagines him beating the sport’s big men the way he has beaten the sport’s slightly smaller men. He would do so with smarts, with movement, with composure, with variety and poise, and with fitness levels that will make his peers out of breath just watching him, much less trying to match him. He’d stay true to himself. He’d be himself. Presumably, though naturally undersized, he’d be everything they’re not.
Looking back, his win over Gassiev in Moscow was the archetypal Oleksandr Usyk performance. Perfect opponent, perfect style, you could say it all started with the jab, thrown from the southpaw stance, thrown hard sometimes but consistently at all times. Yet before the jab came the set-up: the movement, the positioning, the creation of distance. Only then did Usyk start to go to work, give Gassiev something to think about, something to annoy him, something to prevent him sinking his feet into the canvas and unloading shots of his own.
Once this happened, once Usyk found his range and pressed ‘go’ on his right lead, the rhythm was quickly established and the pattern, too. Gassiev, a flat-footed puncher with the ability to end fights with either fist, was peppered rather than hurt, but frustrated all the same. There were jabs. Lots of them. There were pokes and prods, two hands used in combination, and never, ever thrown in the same sequence. There were even occasional uppercuts pierced through the middle of Gassiev’s basic guard, as close to typical ‘power shots’ as you’re likely to see Usyk throw.
With punches delivered at only 50 per cent power a lot of the time, Usyk used Gassiev’s tension – his need to set, load and explode – against him, and appeared content to touch, touch, touch, and then take his head out, turn, and spin
³ away. Rinse, repeat, it was boxing made to look simple, but, in reality, was quite the opposite. These, in fact, were the moves of a master; half instinctive, half carefully planned, designed to dissect rather than destroy.
Frankly, it was only when Gassiev, 26-1 (19), took a chance and chucked an overhand right in the closing stages of round four that a ‘Fight of the Year’ shooin even resembled a fight. This shot, a good one, landed flush on Usyk’s chin and forced the Ukrainian to clinch and kill the final seconds in the relative safety of Gassiev’s embrace. He did just that.
Gassiev, meanwhile, now sensing his punches had enough power on them to unsettle Usyk, strutted back to his corner and winked at a member of his team. It was a wink of hope, confidence. Got him, Gassiev’s body language seemed to say. Watch what happens next time.
On reflection, though, this was the Russian’s first and only bit of success in the fight. Worse, Usyk, having been given a warning, a reminder, simply tightened up some more, moved with even greater purpose and ensured Gassiev never got another free shot at an open goal.
What started as a jabbing clinic soon developed into something greater. There were, for instance, beautiful hooks around the side whenever Gassiev encroached Usyk’s territory or got too heavy on his front foot; there were left crosses fizzing through the gap between his forearms; there were body shots whipped and aimed at Gassiev’s midsection whenever Gassiev chucked one – usually a left hook – of his own, just to maintain the upper hand; there were pivots and pirouettes, moves that would be deemed fancy and indulgent if they weren’t the precursor to something so vicious.
By round eight, Gassiev returned to his corner shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders, with a what-am-isupposed-to-do? expression on his face. His mind had given up, even if his body remained in the firing line. There were no winks.
There was no let-up, either. Not when Usyk, who threw a total of 939 punches, had established a lead early on, and not with the finish line in sight and Gassiev (313 punches to his name) totally impotent, his head snapped back by jabs and countless follow-ups. Still Usyk kept pressing buttons and working for openings. Still he looked for the single shot in a combination that might finally make the Russian crack, thus turning a phenomenal points victory into an even more phenomenal stoppage victory.
In the end, given the fact it went the distance, given the lopsided scorecards, and given Gassiev’s performance and the level of expectancy in the build-up, this should have been a dull, disappointing spectacle to behold. Only it wasn’t. Far from it. And the reason nobody came away feeling let down says all you need to know about the brilliance – nay, genius – of Oleksandr Usyk, 15-0 (11), the unified and undisputed cruiserweight champion of the world.
“To win all four belts and the Muhammad Ali trophy is a dream come true,” said Usyk, who, incidentally, shares a birthday (January 17) with ‘The Greatest’. “It is no secret that Muhammad Ali is my biggest idol, so this is a great honour.
“I’m not a superstar. Stars are in the sky. I’m just an ordinary guy who is doing something well.
“My team made me look like I looked in the ring. This is our victory. I will keep this trophy at a special place in my home because my beloved wife, Katarina, has already prepared a special place for it.”
Usyk’s right. He’s not a superstar. This, however, has less to do with any failing on his part and more to do with the fact the cruiserweight division remains unfashionable, its champions impressive but hard to pronounce, its history short and forgettable, its reputation that of a stopgap before an inevitable trip to heavyweight.
But that’s not to say it won’t change. Things might change for the division thanks, in large part, to Usyk’s wizardry
and the impact of the World Boxing Super Series, and things might change for Usyk, too, if he decides to take his momentum to heavyweight and showcase his skills on a greater, more widely recognised and respected platform.
Because that’s all it will take. Do at heavyweight what he has done as a cruiserweight and Oleksandr Usyk won’t just become a world heavyweight champion, he will also, whether this ‘ordinary guy’ likes it or not, become a bona fide superstar.
One thing we know as a result of Usyk’s thrashing of Gassiev is that Mairis Briedis, the gritty Latvian Usyk bested in the semi-final, must be a hell of a fighter.
Briedis, remember, pushed Usyk all the way that January night, hitting and hurting Usyk more than any of his other professional opponents, and losing via majority decision after 12 rounds. He won portions of the fight. He finished strongly. He surprised many.
Which is precisely why a fight on the Usyk vs. Gassiev undercard against Frenchman Brandon Deslaurier, 11-21 (1), seemed utterly pointless, both on paper and then in reality. At best, it kept him ticking over, and delivered him 10 rounds on a big stage, but not once was Briedis pushed or asked a question, much less threatened, and the overriding thought, as Briedis, 24-1 (18), pummelled Deslaurier from start to finish, was this: why couldn’t he have fought Yunier Dorticos, the Cuban defeated by Gassiev in the semi-final, instead?
There will have been a good reason, I’m sure, but it’s a shame nonetheless, because Briedis, we now realise, can really fight and deserved better. Norway’s Cecilia
Braekhus just keeps on winning. She made it 34 in a row in Moscow with a 10-round decision over Inna Sagaydakovskaya, successfully retaining her WBA, WBC, IBF and WBO world female welterweight titles.
This, the 23rd defence of her world welterweight title, was just like the others insofar as Braekhus remained one step ahead of her opponent throughout, showed impressive technical skills and poise, and never appeared in danger of losing. Sagaydakovskaya, unbeaten in seven fights, was game and tried to solve the puzzle, but didn’t seem anywhere near equipped to deal with a champion who is arguably the finest female fighter in the sport today.
Now 36, ‘The First Lady’ shows no signs of slowing down, nor is she offering her peers any indication she might be about to relinquish what has been hers for nearly a decade. It’s quite the run.
Kicking off the live broadcast was a one-sided WBA International supermiddleweight contest between Nadjib
Mohammedi and Fedor Chudinov that revealed nationality is sometimes more important than work rate and boxing ability in the eyes of ringside judges.
Mohammedi, the superior fighter, dominated from start to finish, winning most of the 12 rounds, but was punished at the bout’s conclusion because he, unlike Chudinov, wasn’t Russian. This meant it was Chudinov, the Russian on the receiving end, who was awarded a split decision victory and a title, rather than Mohammedi, the Frenchman in the ascendancy from first bell to last. The truth is, Chudinov won barely a round, let alone the fight, yet this hollow victory, attained because he was a Russian fighting in Russia, still came as no surprise.
THE VERDICT Usyk shows he’s not only the world’s best cruiser, but will be a threat at heavyweight, too.
‘STARS ARE IN THE SKY. I’M JUST AN ORDINARY GUY’