Derek Chisora's bravery or bravado has never been in question, but perhaps Manchester has now witnessed the well being emptied for a final time. On a Saturday night stirred by promises of revenge, one of British boxing’s stalwarts summoned all the reserves of his gladiatorial spirit, survived three referee’s counts, and continued to heave punches out of the past in an effort to keep the present at bay.
But at the end of twelve brutally compelling rounds, there could be no doubt or controversy. Once again, he and Joseph Parker headed to the scorecards, but by that point the decision was already devastatingly conclusive. Victory will propel a significantly improved Parker back towards the upper echelons of the heavyweight division and, on this evidence, it is not impossible to imagine the New Zealander scaling those heights once again too.
A twelfth defeat of Chisora’s haphazard career highlighted the shortcomings that have always precluded him from the true elite, but it cannot detract from a towering spirit that still refuses to be toppled. At 37 years old, the end should beckon, but an unswerving love of the fight game and all its riches may lure him back to the ring yet again, even if questions of retirement will inevitably be levelled in the aftermath.
Age might have provided one unbeaten opponent, but Parker was a deadlier force for this second encounter too. Aided by an extra 10lbs in weight, there was an aggressive snap and thud to his punches, honed under the stewardship of Andy Lee, and a devastating uppercut was a ceaseless weapon that did much of the damage. It was a new degree of power, allied with economy and composure, that could almost qualify as a reinvention when compared to the fighter who once laboured to a points defeat against Anthony Joshua.
There were times here when he was dragged into deeper waters by Chisora, who absorbed punches with typical irreverence, grimacing and stalking forwards like an old warhorse. He revelled in the occasion from the moment he made his ring entrance, stretching out his arms and embracing a crowd who sensed this might not just be his but all their last nights of wild collective excitement for a long while.
It did not catapult Chisora into the type of frantic start as last time, though, when he knocked Parker down inside seven seconds. But after reacquainting themselves a little tentatively in the first round, the fight soon erupted. Chisora smelt blood, closed the distance and unloaded a barrage with Parker pressed up against the ropes. But the improvements in this version of Parker soon revealed themselves to menacing effect. The hesitancy that used to invade his punches was gone and he forced Chisora back with the first of many punishing uppercuts, leant confidently over his front foot, and backed it up with another volley
Chisora was being beaten to every punch and the third round was brutal and relentless, a siege of pressure that slowly sapped the strength from Chisora’s legs, until another vicious uppercut lifted him onto his toes and caused his knees to buckle. A sense of panic emanated around the ring, lapping Chisora towards an early and ungracious end, only for him to rally with a series of wild Hail Marys off the ropes, refusing to give in.
But in the fourth, only the ropes could keep him upright. Yet another uppercut scythed through his defence and sent him stumbling backwards, with the referee administering a standing count. But even if it could not disguise the decay to his reflexes, Chisora’s spirit had always promised to bridge the eights years separating him from Parker in age. From the brink of defeat, he poured forwards, landed in flurries and raised to the crowd to their feet in a grandstand finish to the round.
Much will be made of Chisora’s bravery, but Parker proved the strength of his own chin too. Chisora called on whatever reserves remained in the fifth round, reasserted himself, and had Parker breathing heavily in the corner. But while the fight continued to ebb and flow in violent currents, Parker’s ascendancy was never in doubt. In the seventh round, Chisora folded under the force of another huge uppercut and barely beat the count. With his shoulders slunk, he beckoned Parker to finish the show. But backed into a corner, with nowhere left to turn, Chisora somehow fought his way out again, summoning a storm of survival instincts and swinging for the fences.
Parker’s own fury was always far more measured, though, even as he clearly tired too. A flashing right hand sent Chisora flying back against the ropes again in the eighth round and any other fighter might have had their mettle doubted and the towel thrown in to protect their health. For Chisora, though, it has always been a matter of honour. With no hope on the scorecards, he battled on, hurling, grunting, wheezing and throwing again, even as the strength of his punches betrayed him. Any chance of victory had vanished, and Howard Foster threatened to step in, but somehow Chisora was able to valiantly bludgeon a path to the final bell. And on a gruelling, taxing but exhilarating night, that felt like a victory in itself.
SOURCE : indeoendent
