The streets of Brooklyn buzzed, not long after the ambulance carrying Xander Zayas passed through them to take the courageous Puerto Rican to hospital.
We were told Zayas was unable to attend the post-fight press conference purely as a precautionary measure and that he was okay. He’d spoken well in the ring after delving about as deeply into his soul as he could have to fend off the flames of Philadelphian Jaron “Boots” Ennis.
For as much as the talk was of what Ennis had done and what he had shown here at the cacophonous and simply electrifying Barclays Center, the story, too, was halved with as much discussion fizzing in the post-fight elation about Zayas and the grit and resolve he had demonstrated.
It might have been “Boots’” coming-out night and Zayas might have reluctantly been separated from his WBO and WBA 154lbs titles, leaving the venue he’d entered to an unforgettable blast of Puerto Rican pride and passion on a stretcher, but his prizefighting value had rocketed.
You don’t do what the 23-year-old did and in any way have your valour or abilities diminished.
What he would have lost, perhaps, is a chunk of his future health, and perhaps so, too, did Ennis.
“It’s part of the business,” said the young former champion in the ring. “You live, you learn, you come back again. I’m happy with my performance. It was not what I was expecting, not what I trained for, but I knew I had one of the best in front of me. ... He hurt me in the first round and my legs went away for a couple of rounds. ... Then I hurt him, but he got me again. You learn and you come back and get better.”
For while Zayas was down three times in all, the fight swung away from the still-undefeated 29-year-old, Ennis (his birthday was the day before the fight), when he was rocked by a third-round right hand that threatened to change the course of the fight and Matchroom’s immediate US plans.
A penny for Eddie Hearn’s thoughts, as Ennis reeled around the ring, attempted holding to keep a swarming and utterly galvanised Zayas at bay.
That said, Ennis never stopped throwing back. He hurled punches with bad intentions and, frankly, reckless abandon in one of the most memorable rounds I’ve seen in 25 years covering the sport.
We have heard about the Philly wars for years, and last night Ennis wasn’t just in one, he was in the type of battle that was made famous through some of the sport’s most exciting warriors. He was his own version of Matthew Saad Muhammad against Yaqui Lopez, of Joe Frazier against Muhammad Ali, and of Bennie Briscoe against Marvin Hagler.
Claim hyperbole all you want, but this isn’t the 1970s, this is the sport now, and beforehand fans were salivating over the prospect of two unbeaten stars clashing in or near their primes, and certainly not past them, and with two belts on the line.
And when you surveyed the often-toxic landscape of boxing social media the next morning, it was near enough unanimous that those watching, whether they were fortunate enough to be in the Barclays or not, had been left utterly exhilarated by what they had experienced.
It was not a fight of two halves but a spin dryer of emotion and momentum swings. After two rounds, it seemed “Boots” had it in the bag. Sure, the fight was still watchable but Zayas was dropped in the opener – caught out by a short left after he’d fired out a combination – he struggled when Ennis was in either stance, and was half-a-step behind the challenger.
Despite his obvious bravado, there were no signs that – at 23-0 (13 KOs) – Zayas had what was needed to turn the fight around.
Ennis had never been hurt. Hell, he’d never been out of third gear.
In round three, however, Ennis had to do something we didn’t think he’d have to.
Ennis had to survive. The right hand that caused him to almost unravel jolted his head back and travelled down to his boots. And rather than going through the gears, his tyres started to spin in desperation. He threw shots back, he moved, he tried to hold. He fought desperately both attempting to win and trying not to lose at the same time.
The first right had landed early in the round. Only around 20 seconds later, another buckled Ennis at the knees. But Zayas was clever, pushing Ennis off as he attempted to smother, and the Puerto Rican mixed in hooks and body shots.
The crowd by this point, was deafening. Many of them were standing, regardless of where their seats were positioned. Ennis, in retaliation, buried shots into Zayas’ midriff and launched unsubtle straight lefts from the bleachers trying to keep the marauding champion at bay. And when one such left crashed against Zayas, the Puerto Rican finally slowed and Ennis roared back to seize control of the session.
It was breathless to watch, lord knows what it was like in there. The arena was absolute bedlam. The energy was like nothing I can recall in years.
Astonishingly, Ennis regained some kind of momentum in the next and in the fifth, a spiteful short right hook with Ennis fighting as a southpaw dropped Zayas again, only harder this time. In the first, the champion had softly spiralled to the deck. This time, he crashed onto the seat of his pants and jarringly somehow had been punched across the ring.
Yet, when he made it back to his feet, still he fought back. Like a honey badger with an attitude problem, he was frantically trying to cling onto his unbeaten record, his titles and his senses, but all three were slipping away from him.
The sixth was understandably a little less chaotic and perhaps that was “Boots” setting the table for the finale. Because when he finally and irreparably breached the Zayas’ defences, raking him with a right and two lefts, Zayas – moving with his back to the ropes to find a safe haven – gave ground and sunk forlornly to the canvas. His fighting spirit remained but the corner knew it was time. They know he’s 23 years old. Fighters have been wrecked for going on in situations like that and, with the three knockdowns, he was miles behind on the cards. In fact, he was down 59-53 for all three judges and had only been given the third – across the board. That didn’t tell the story of the fight, but the fighters’ reactions immediately afterward did.
Ennis celebrated, understandably, knowing he’d had to show some of the ingredients we’d only heard he’d had to exhibit behind closed doors. He is now a unified two-weight world champion. But Zayas, also understandably, celebrated, too. He was rightly proud and his immediate response was to walk around the ring and salute the fans who had cheered him so vociferously, who had possibly made that third-round surge and what followed possible.
Of course, Ennis was due to face down questions about what might come next but it wasn’t that kind of night. It was about being there. It was about experiencing it; feeling the excitement, the energy, the adrenaline, and savouring it. It was about enjoying an excellent prizefight, and giving them both their due, one for his heart, talent, power and skills, and another for his determination, grit and maniacal resolve.
Both “Boots” and his father, “Bozy,” admitted to laziness causing the third-round fireworks with Ennis not doing what was required to keep Zayas at bay.
“Xander’s a great fighter,” Ennis said. “I hope he’s okay. Whether he stays at 154 or moves up, I think he’ll be champion again…. I got to go back and watch it. I’ll probably give myself probably like a C. C-plus. I’m way better than that.”
We will see about that. If that is not the zenith, some wild nights lie ahead.
It didn’t need talk of Ortiz, Crawford, Fundora, or anything else to take the story on. It was a standalone thriller, one that will stand the test of time, and one of those that those will always be able to say with a smile to envious friends, “I was there.”
The mile or so walk back to the hotel at around 2am was brisk. It felt like a storm had burst over New York and you were walking through the humid haze that followed, amazed, still, by the electricity in the event you’d witnessed.
It was the type of fight where, when you lie in your bed and try to get to sleep, you can still feel the pulse in your neck and your heart racing.
It was the type of fight where, when you know you need to leave for the airport in three hours, it’s okay, because you’d seen something special and something you’ll never forget.
(Photos: Cris Esqueda Matchroom Boxing)
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