GGG: a monster on a rampage
By Blake "Racehorse" Chavez
Gennady "Triple G" Golovkin at this very moment is a certifiable monster. Don’t be surprised if the next time "Triple G" invades Britain he’s met at the airport by angry townspeople waving flaming torches at this modern day Frankenstein. He waltzes into the city, disarms the supposed sophisticates of London, as well as the blokes on the street... drags their most ferocious hero into the world spotlight, rips his throat out, and goes on about his way. Before the fans know what hit them, he’s back on a jet plane scouting another country-side to pillage and plunder.
Please note that most monsters conduct their brutal affairs in the woods, a dark basement, or on a distant planet. This monster destroys fit and gallant would-be heroes under a spotlight and television cameras that broadcast his nastiness across the globe. And this monster makes no apologies. Like Godzilla tossing naval destroyers like toys in a bathtub, "Triple G" broke his latest ’toy’, Kell Brook.
He ate that poor boy’s lunch, punked him straight-away, and ultimately broke Brook’s friggin’ eye socket. He then casually bowed east, north, west, and south to the shocked patrons in the arena, grabbed his multi-million-dollar check, charmed his way through a few post-fight interviews and disappeared.
One of the most amazing characteristics of this monster is that not only does he not apologize for the brutalization he dishes out, he promises many, many more to come. And, truth be told; we can’t wait to see the next victim get bushwhacked in broad daylight. It can’t happen soon enough.
The carnage left in the monster’s wake as he marches toward shattering the all-time middleweight title defense record of twenty held by Bernard Hopkins is merely collateral damage in the sporting world.
Another interesting thing about this particular monster is that most folks wouldn’t mind in the least having "Triple G" as their next door neighbor. Invite him over to barbecue a few steaks whilst the kids run around laughing and playing. His thousand watt smile and winning boy-next-door looks are more suited for an altar boy than for the human-punishment dispenser he becomes when wrapped in the throes of performing his job.
With each outing he hopes to deliver what he calls a "Big Drama Show". Basically, the drama is him beating the hell out of whoever is foolish enough to climb in the ring with him. He’s big on gifting concussions, swollen facial features, broken ribs and broken dreams to the pretenders to his crown. The capper to all this is that after the bloodbaths he issues, when he smiles into the cameras with both a shit-eating grin and a "Aw, shucks" demeanor. It’s very hard to dislike this monster.
Mike Tyson, Sonny Liston, and Tony Ayala Jr. were reprehensible fiends with felony convictions and hard prison time on their resumes. The public hated these monsters that were incredibly easy to hate and despise since they actually were hateful and despicable. But "Triple G" is another kettle of fish. Folks love him universally. So what’s the problem?
The problem is that the monster "Triple G" is after a massive payday and financial security, a pay day that would allow him to retire in grand style. That pay day lives in the form of one Saul "Canelo" Alvarez. Gennady rules the middleweight division and Canelo controls the junior middleweight division. The lucrative purse frosted by the pay-per-view upside "Triple G" stands to bank should the two ever clash sets up "Triple G" for life. He does not need Mayweather money to live well outside the game. He doesn’t even thirst for Canelo money.
But "Triple G" must attain security for life outside the squared circle. He is chasing that security with a vengeance, and therein lies the rub. Because unless and until he gets that security, people are going to have to bleed, be concussed, endure facial swelling that renders them unrecognizable, and pay nervous visits to hospitals. The problem is that GGG might go hog-wild and start sending opponents home comatose, or worse. He’s behaving like he’s starving. And he is… for the attention he deserves. That’s very bad news for his upcoming foes.
You see, promoters and management are charged with matching their monster in bouts that they should win quite easily. Why would they risk GGG’s big dinero fight with Canelo, the fight with the red-headed Golden Goose that they have long cherished? They won’t. So they will match the monster with comparatively soft touches. Britain is a soft touch factory producing Mathew Macklin and Martin Murray.
Even potential opponent Chris Eubank Jr. has taken an ass-whipping from a far lesser opponent than The Monster. He’s a nice candidate to be jacked up next. Australia is also noted for an abundance of fighters with chins made of pudding. Mundine and DeGale come to mind.
The Monster will sharpen his teeth on these ’Rosado-type’ nobodies and dispatch with them in spectacular fashion. He’ll either impose an involuntary rolling of their eyes after a clubbing right fist. He may reduce at least one of his next opponents to rolling in agony from a quivering liver resulting from a GGG left hook to the body. It’s almost a sure thing that he’ll also leave one of his next opponents staggering a drunken waltz down Queer Street from a brilliant hammer-like straight right hand. Golovkin’s next opponents are in harm’s way big-time. A broken Kell Brook eye-socket and two shattered ribs served up to Mathew Macklin is merely a harbinger of damages to come. The Monster can smell the finish line. I predict that The Monster shall go on a feeding frenzy of "street fights.” I pity the fool who stands in his way. GGG is a mad dog foaming at the mouth on the yellow-brick road to Canelo.
So Gennady Golovkin is a monster. I say feed The Monster James Kirkland. The Monster is ripe to be upset. The Monster over-swings with regularity... someone will make him pay.
Kell Brook was just a bit light in the ass to pull it off. It takes a monster to beat a monster. James Kirkland is perhaps one of the most ignorant men to ever pull on a set of boxing gloves. But James Kirkland is also one of the most volatile cavemen on the planet. Think about this: Kirkland vs. Timothy Bradley? Mismatch in Kirkland’s favor, right? Ditto Jesse Vargas. Can you imagine Kirkland manhandling Danny Garcia? Kirkland is just too damned physical.
I say pit The Monster against The Maniac. The Maniac gave Canelo hell for a furious few rounds. Massive shots landing from both fighters. The Maniac would never let his suffering a mere broken eye socket to end his dreams of Mayweather-type money. Anne Wolfe would slap his face and send him back out with a scowl and instructions to pick up the damned pace! Myself, I’d rather see Kirkland than Jacobs or Saunders fight GGG. Imagine Kirkland not having to drain down to ‘54’s. He’d be one rough customer at 160, that’s for damned sure.
The monster is at the zenith of his powers, and also at his most dangerous. Ironically, that allows for the monster to be at his most vulnerable. He’s now throwing killer shots for the majority of rounds he enters. He’s utilizing very few set-ups, feints, and jabs. He’s getting more hittable as he ages, and his response to getting hit is much too predictable to help his cause. Whereas in the past he might smile to acknowledge a nice shot landed upon him, he would usually proceed in his workman-like fashion and work combinations in reply. No more. Hit the monster and it is a 100% proposition that he will immediately go Johnny Tapia on the offender.
The problem with that type of response is that there will be repercussions the monster must suffer for going the insane route. Namely, he leaves himself wide open for counters. The monster has a great chin, but so did Roberto Duran, Pacman, and Erik Morales; all of whom like Golovkin were attacking monsters in their heyday. Yet one fine day their legendary chins betrayed them.
They were all caught in exchanges that were heated and ill-advised. Duran responded to thudding punishment from Hearns by getting up swinging. That was the wrong move. Pacman
chose to answer Marquez’s punches at the end of a round that Pac had thoroughly dominated by agreeing to one more wild exchange. Morales, getting blistered, threw caution to the wind and unloaded awkward haymakers at both Pacman and Danny Garcia. Golovkin responded to Kell Brook sparking him by throwing professional caution to the wind and winding up on a calendar years’ worth of Sunday punches.
He got away with it, but paid a steep price in doing so. The tab the monster had to pay for such frivolity was eating a heaping serving of leather at Brook’s hands. He munched on some huge bombs and suffered from upper-cutitis. The net result of such a feast is that it likely slows the monster down a bit in his next fights. The monster is nearly thirty-five, and even monsters have a shelf-life. Being that "Triple G" has been hittable throughout his career, it is also likely evidence of all that wear and tear is overdue. The monster is susceptible to becoming old "overnight.” Remember all of those hundreds of amateur fights. Almost forty pro fights. Seventeen title defenses. Toss in the innumerable sparring sessions that were more muggings and gym wars than standard sparring sessions, and GGG is a strong candidate to get old quickly.
Thus, we may have a monster that’s vulnerable. This should serve to make the monster that much more entertaining. A vulnerable monster makes for compelling theater. It’s now a much bigger drama show.
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