Factions mingled. Factions placed bets. Total strangers held money.
I sat with the press. I watched the prelims.
They went fast. They went loud. The Mexicans drew cheers. The non-Mexicans drew silence.
TKOs. One decision. One woman’s fight.
I hit the john. I crashed a rehearsal.
A baritone. A prime gig. The Mexican anthem.
We talked fights.
He liked Morales. Barrera was shot.
I bopped back. The noise reignited. I sat with my wife and friends.
A Morales guy flanked me. He was expansive. He was loud.
He waved a roll. He peeled C-notes. He placed bets.
Barrera guys bet him. A neutral popped up. He held the dinero.
A band filed in. Thirteen musicians.
Sombreros. Embroidered threads.
They entered the ring. They played loud. HBO cameras turned.
Fans held signs up. Cameras panned. Signs eclipsed views.
The noise built.
The fighters filed in.
The noise built.
The ring announcer spieled.
He spieled bilingual. He rolled his r’s. He rolled rich and rapt.
The noise built.
That cat sang the Mexican anthem.
The noise built.
The announcer introed the officials. The announcer introed the men.
He ratched his r’s. MoRales extended. BaRReRa rolled long.
The noise built.
The men derobed. They’d added weight. They’d sapped and replenished.
The ref gave instructions. The men touched gloves.
The noise built.
They went to their corners. They knelt. They crossed themselves.
The noise built.
The bell rang.
The noise stratosphered.
They moved. They squared off. They hit center ring.
Morales pops a jab. Barrera hooks to the body. Morales moves back.
Barrera. Fast hands. A shock.
Barrera moves in. He lands a right. He left-hooks downstairs.
Morales moves back. Let’s bait and counter.
Barrera moves in. Barrera cuts off. Barrera double-hooks low.
Fast hands. Shocker. “Shot”—bullshit.
Morales backs up. Morales moves in. They trade right hands.
Morales backs up Barrera. His rights sting.
They square off. They trade. Morales backs up Barrera.
They circle. They pause.
Morales backs up. Let’s bait and counter.
He taps the ropes. Barrera’s on him. They trade hooks at the bell.
The 122-pound showdown between Erik Morales and Marco Antonio Barrera for the junior featherweight title would become the fight of the year. (Photo by Ben Watts)
The noise built. The noise leveled. The noise leveled loud.
Round 2:
Barrera stalks. Morales jabs.
It’s a range finder. It’s a sizer-up. It’s a reach enhancer.
He’s dancing. He’s on his toes. Barrera closes in.
Morales launches. Barrera launches. They trade fucking wild.
The bell. A beep in a cacophony.
The noise cranked. The noise releveled.
I yelled. My wife yelled. Words went undiscerned.
A sign bopped me. A guy apologized. The Morales fan yelled. I read his lips. He said, “Barrera!”
Round 4:
Barrera stalks. Morales jabs. Morales spins and falls.
He gets up. The ref wipes his gloves.
Breather.
In round 4, Barrera focused almost exclusively on Morales’s thin frame, investing in punches to the ribs that would weaken him later in the fight. (Photo by Ben Watts)
He comes off the ropes. He lands a right. He rocks Barrera.
Barrera takes it.
Barrera reaches.
Barrera rallies back.
Barrera rocks Morales.
The crowd yells. The crowd stomps. The crowd outrings the bell.
It was Barrera’s fight. Barrera made Morales fight it. Morales wanted to fight it. Barrera made him. Barrera stamped the ticket. Barrera defined their mutual will.
Round 8:
Barrera moves in. Morales moves back.
They jab. They exchange. Barrera lands a one/two. Barrera rocks Morales.
Morales moves back. Morales hits the ropes. Barrera works the body.
Four shots. Evil. Evil shots back.
Morales shoves off. Morales lands lead rights. Morales lands uppercuts.
Barrera eats shots. Barrera goes low. Barrera lands to the liver.
They stand.
They deliver.
They launch arm shots.
They land and miss.
The noise schizzed on me. The roar went normal. Time schizzed. Three-minute rounds took six seconds.
I checked the prompter. I caught the damage.
Barrera bruised light. Morales bruised dark.
Dark rings. Sharp cheekbones. A ghost effect.
Dark eyes. Both men. Will smashed insensate.
Round 9:
Center ring. Exchanges. Barrera’s advantage.
Morales hits the ropes. Morales flurries. Morales rallies back.
Barrera rallies back. Morales hits the ropes. Morales rallies back.
He finds some snap. He dredged it. Barrera takes it.
Sync:
They’re both fried. They circle. They buy some breath.
Barrera charges. Barrera knocks Morales back.
They both flurry. They both miss. They both land.
They rest. They regroup. They earn breath.
They’re slack. They’re arm-shot. They’re on deficit.
Barrera comes back. Barrera lands. Barrera hurts Morales. Barrera pounds him to the ropes.
The bell rang.
Fans screamed.
Fans screamed “Morales!” Fans screamed “Barrera!”
The syllables blended. The names clashed. The names unified.
Round 10:
Center ring. Wide punches. Misses.
Exhaustion. Bilateral. Cumulative.
They come close. They lean close. They brush heads. They punch way wide.
They breathe. They dredge.
Morales gets air. Morales lands three rights. Morales hurts Barrera.
Barrera sways. Barrera wobbles. Morales loads up.
He’s fried. His tank’s dry. He stands still. He moves back.
They rest. They breathe. They dredge.
Barrera gets air. Barrera gets legs. Barrera drives Morales back.