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Tuesday, May 6: When I book flights from Pittsburgh, I always schedule them for late morning or early afternoon departures because of the two-and-a-half hour one-way commute and my desire to be at the airport two hours early. It's simple math, really: If I have an 11:30 a.m., flight, my goal is to arrive by 9:30, which means I must leave the house by 7, which means that I can get up as late as 6:30 if I rush to get ready. By the time I get on the plane, it's already been a pretty long day – and then I still have to get to my destination.

Ah, the joys of travel.

Some might say that I don't need to allow for so much time, and I won’t argue with them. Call it a quirk, but I always feel better when I'm where I'm supposed to be way before I have to be there. It's a mindset I've had all my life; in grade school I wanted to be seated and ready to go before the teacher walked into the room. In college, I was in class at least 10 minutes early, even for my 8 a.m. accounting class. During my years at the newspaper, I arrived at my desk and got cracking because I wanted to stay ahead of my deadlines.

These days, I arrive at the fight venue at least two hours before the telecast to carry out my pre-card duties and take notes on any early prelims. Finally, even though my stories for MaxBoxing run mid- to late-week, I always send them to my editors at least a couple of days beforehand to make their jobs easier and to allow myself to move on to the next task.

My various misadventures on the road have taught me to account for any and all surprises. For example, the battery in my rental car died in Salamanca several weeks ago, and had I not gotten up as early as I did I wouldn't have had time to resolve it and still make my flight. Because I did, I arrived at my gate with an hour to spare.

In short, it pays to be the early bird.

During those rare times I run behind, I actually experience a physical reaction: Most times I get a burning feeling in my gut or my head tingles. The only thing I can think about is how can I make up time and return to my comfort zone. When it becomes clear I'll be late, I assume a mood of resigned brooding self-disgust.

To some it doesn't matter that they're late, and there's enough of them around to make the term "fashionably late" part of the lexicon. I don't think there's anything fashionable about it; to me it's downright rude. In my opinion time is a valuable commodity and punctuality is the best way to show respect for others. And more often than not, if you show others respect you'll receive respect. There are exceptions, of course, but by definition they are relatively rare. There’s even a way to save some situations if I know I’m going to be late: Let someone know about it if at all possible. That way the weight of expectation on both ends is lifted, and with that I am free to focus solely on getting to my destination safe and sound.

Another quirk of mine is that I can't stay still for very long, so once I arrived in Boston and checked into my room at The Boston Park Plaza Hotel in the heart of the business district, I decided to take a walk and check out my surroundings. Every so often I take these "fate walks" to see where I end up, but this time Fate didn't serve me up any noteworthy events. At least I got in some exercise and it was a nice day to take a stroll.

After I returned a strange thing happened – nothing. I usually spend the evening working on various projects but I didn't have any that needed immediate attention. Instead I ordered a pizza and did plenty of surfing, both on TV and on the Internet, before retiring for the night.

Wednesday, May 7: A few hours after I fell asleep, the alarm clock's electronic pulses jolted me awake. Whoever occupied this room before me had neglected to turn off the alarm, so I became the unwilling beneficiary of his sleep pattern. Through my nearsighted fuzz I somehow pressed the right buttons to make the noise stop but the damage was already done because I was unable to drift back to sleep.

Being a person who prefers to put a positive spin on things, I shrugged it off by thinking, "at least it'll give me more time to get things done. Who needs sleep when I can stay ahead of the game?" Such are the way of neuroses.

I brought along a DVD of a future Closet Classic but I couldn't get started because I had forgotten to pack my steno notebook. When reviewing the fights I always write down my thoughts in longhand while constantly starting and stopping the footage, and that is the basis from which I subsequently write the articles.

I got the itch to get started, so I took a chance and stopped by the hotel's gift shop. Believe it or not, the shop had one and after buying it I returned to my room and went to work.

When I finished my note-taking four hours later, my mind shifted toward the main event between highly ranked junior featherweight Mike Oliver and Colombian import Reynaldo Lopez. Oliver came into this fight an angry man. Oliver defeated Cruz Carvajal last July in an official eliminator for a crack at IBF champion Steve Molitor, but for whatever reason the political wheels had not turned Oliver's way. Since ostensibly earning the shot at Molitor, the undefeated "Canadian Kid" (27-0, 10 KO) successfully defended the belt three times against Fahsan 3K Battery, Ricardo Castillo and Fernando Beltran Jr. – all by lopsided decision – while the 21-0 (7 KO) Oliver was made to wait. To preserve his high ranking Oliver fought just once since the Carvajal win, a 12-round decision victory over Al Seeger last November.

Oliver was originally scheduled to face former WBA "interim" bantamweight champ Julio Zarate in another IBF-sanctioned eliminator, but because the fight fell through during negotiations Lopez replaced Zarate and the bout lost its allure of advancement. Lopez came into the Oliver fight off two consecutive high-level defeats – a decision to current WBC super flyweight champion Cristian Mijares for the interim belt and, most recently, a fifth round one-punch TKO to WBO junior featherweight king Daniel Ponce de Leon.

Just before I left for Boston I watched the De Leon-Lopez fight on DVD. While the slick boxing Oliver and the hard-charging DeLeon have diametrically opposed styles, the fact that Lopez was a touch slower than DeLeon meant he had little chance of catching the elusive Oliver. Factoring in Oliver's below-average power (a 33 percent KO ratio), I foresaw a successful debut at The Roxy for the Hartford-based fighter via comprehensive unanimous decision.

So much for my usually reliable powers of prognostication.

I believed in my scenario so strongly that I did something a usually bold thing – tell others about it in confident tones. I declared to more than one person that the "over/under" on the fight should be 9 7/8ths rounds. I had seen this scenario so many times before – a younger, ambitious, hungry contender against a 34-year-old battler with a modest record and a lack of recent success. I ignored the one factor that ultimately turned the fight – Lopez's 19 knockouts in 27 victories – because many of those stoppages occurred in lighter weight classes.

Oliver did what was expected of him in the first two rounds – out-speeding and out-landing his slower foe. The New Englander held big advantages in every conceivable stat after two rounds and seemed on his way to an easy victory. But in the third, Oliver was done in by two things: A perfectly timed punch and his eagerness to make an impact on the forest instead of focusing on the big tree in front of him – Lopez's left fist.

Let's address the knockout punch first. Lopez triggered a devastatingly delivered overhand left to the jaw a split second before Oliver unleashed a power hook at the same target. Because Oliver was totally committed to his punch, he was not in position to either see or evade Lopez's blow, which left him lying face-first near a neutral corner. Oliver somehow struggled to his feet at nine, but referee Dick Flaherty determined Oliver was in no condition to continue. Geography or no geography, the regionally based ref did the right thing by stopping it.

And now let's speak of the "forest." In the days before this fight, Oliver accused Molitor of ducking him in favor of easier opponents. Thus, to make a sufficient case to Molitor and his people that a fight with him made the most financial sense, Oliver felt the need to score an especially impressive victory. He was performing for just one audience: Team Molitor, who may have been watching on TSN (Canada’s equivalent of ESPN). He got nailed because he was trying too hard to execute a plan that was outside his comfort zone. When I suggested this theory to someone associated with Oliver's camp at the production truck after the fight, he admitted that was a factor.

While one must feel good for Lopez, who may now get the shot at Molitor Oliver so coveted, one can't help but feel sympathy for Oliver, a good guy whose career took a terribly bad turn. It'll take at least a year for Oliver to regain most of what he had lost – and a 28-year-old junior featherweight time is not on his side.

Because there were so many early knockouts, every fight staged at the Roxy on this night made TV – a first in my travels. Since every fight was seen on TV, I'll offer some overall comments instead of a blow-by-blow account.

Antwone Smith KO 3 Aaron Torres: Is there some sort of curse on "Contender" alums? Sure, there are the scattered victories like Alfonso Gomez over Arturo Gatti and Cornelius Bundrage over Kassim Ouma, but more often than not they lose more than they win once they venture outside the Contender Universe. The fight irrevocably turned toward Smith early in the second when a beautiful counter hook dropped Torres and from that point it was one-sided carnage. Torres took a knee on the final knockdown in round three and allowed referee Javier Colon to count him out.

Some might label Torres a quitter, but I don't see it that way. It was a smart move on Torres' part given the flow of the fight; the Miami product dished out frightful and frequent punishment to Torres' head while Torres never proved he could hurt Smith. There comes a time in a fight when one must make a decision as to whether pressing on is worth the price, and to me Torres' actions were motivated more by prudence than a lack of fighting spirit.

It reminded me of what Max Baer said following his fourth round KO loss to Joe Louis in 1935. After absorbing a clinical but relentless pounding from Louis, Baer sunk to the canvas and let referee Arthur Donovan count 10 over him even though he looked like he could have gotten up.

"Sure I quit," Baer told a chastising media. "He hit me 18 times while I was in the act of falling that last time. I don't intend to be cutting up paper dolls for a living. Besides, I got a wife and a family to think about. If anyone wants to see the execution of Max Baer, he's gotta pay a lot more than $25 for a ringside seat."

Sean Eklund W 4 Jose Velazquez: This was a rematch of a fight three months earlier that saw Eklund, nephew of legendary tough guy Micky Ward, win a four round split decision. Velazquez came into the fight with plenty of emotion. At the weigh-in Eklund scaled one pound over the contracted weight of 137 and, after some posturing, Velazquez agreed to allow it. According to the account on the bout sheet, Velazquez declared, "it's the last freebie that you'll get."

Velazquez's fury continued during the pre-fight stare down when he forced a forehead-to-forehead confrontation, but once the bell rang Eklund seized the reins and pounded out a lopsided decision. Despite Eklund’s dominance, Ward urged his charge to finish strong – and did he ever. In the fourth round alone Eklund landed more punches (43) than Velazquez did in the entire fight (31). I don't know how far Eklund will advance in boxing, but it is an encouraging sign that he so effectively translated his uncle's instructions into action. Also, it also takes a strong mind to run off five straight wins after losing his first two pro outings.

Eric Caminero KO 3 Adrick Butler: I have always had a soft spot for boxers who attack the body, and Lawrence Mass.' Caminero did just that to score his fourth knockout in four pro fights. Butler was a late substitute – always a tough position to be in – and Caminero dominated in the way an aspiring knockout artist should in that spot. Caminero is still in that stage when he's establishing his credentials against lesser talent, so we won't know for some time whether he is the product of good matchmaking or of superior athletic talent. The victory, however, indicates that the father-and-son team of Barney and Sean Farley has some good raw material with which to work.

Frankie Trader W 4 Luis Rosario: Philadelphia's Trader showed off impressive speed and combination punching and rightly won a comprehensive decision. That's to be expected from a 21-year-old making his pro debut against someone with a 4-12 (2 KO) record.

The owner of that mediocre mark, however, was the fight's most interesting story. Luis Rosario, a youthful looking 35-year-old, was fighting for the first time in 13 ½ years. Rosario's last fight had been a one-round KO loss to Angel Rosario on November 8, 1994 – three days after George Foreman stopped Michael Moorer to regain the heavyweight title. In his previous incarnation, he fought Nana Konadu (KO by 6), Mark "Too Sharp" Johnson (KO by 2) and Wayne McCullough (KO by 5) – his seventh, ninth and 13th pro fights. To be kind, that was very aggressive matchmaking and to be blunt, it was a career-killer.

For him to find the will to step back into the ring is admirable, and to his further credit the 127-pound Rosario weighed exactly the same as he did for his last fight in the mid-1990s. That couldn't be said for your humble scribe, who weighed 86 pounds more when he stepped into the ring last year for a two-rounder after a 27-year layoff. Then again, few of us weigh the same at 42 than we did at 15.

Thursday, May 8: Just when one thinks he has seen everything, something happens to shatter that belief. When I reported to my gate at Boston's Logan Airport, I spotted a bird serenely walking across the carpet and ducking behind the counter. It obviously was accustomed to being near people because it didn't flinch when someone came within feet of it.

I was told it was a common problem at Logan.

"They live here," one gate agent told me. "They get caught in the rafters or they fly into the jet bridges. We do our best to eliminate them, but it's still an issue here."

I walked aboard my own bird an hour later, and thanks to my frequent flier status it was a first class upgrade. After landing in Philadelphia, I got into my rental car and instead of driving directly to the Sheridan Convention Center hotel in Atlantic City, I made an intriguing side trip.

To find out where, read tomorrow's second installment.