The Hitman was not happy with The Jackal – although it is tough to look convincing when you’re standing butt naked behind a towel in front of the other guy’s jeering supporters – especially in Belfast. As hospitable a city as it is, its hardier citizens are not inclined to let such a moment go unremarked. They didn’t.
Chris Avalos is a serious customer, one of those Californian-Mexicans with a record to match his nom de guerre – even if “Hitman” has worn as thin as tissue paper since the days of Tommy Hearns – and he is determined to make life difficult here on Saturday for Carl Frampton, whose Jackal tendencies are genuine.
Nevertheless, at the underpants party previously known as the weigh-in, in the Grand Ballroom of the Europa Hotel (a venue that has seen its share of explosive moments), the challenger for Frampton’s world title was scratching around for a bit of dignity.
Forced to shed his last fig-leaf to make the super-bantamweight limit of 8st 10lb (he was 4oz under, which is a decent weight for a pair of underpants), Avalos got dressed then was dressed down by the local hero in the stare-down, one of modern boxing’s tedious rituals.
“He looked nervous,” Frampton said later. “I could tell he was on edge, which is good. He said a few things and there was a bit of pushing, but that was about it. His mother had already thrown some chewing gum, so …”
When a boxer’s mother starts throwing gum at her son’s potential assailant, you’ve got a fight.
For all the by-play that has gone on between them this week – a highlight was the challenger reminding the Belfast boy he’d not been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, a dig lost on Frampton, who said they had no need for any sort of spoon in Tiger’s Bay, where he grew up – it should be one of the best arguments the city has seen in a while.
Frampton has long since conquered Belfast. He showed in his rematch with the ridiculously hard Kiko Martínez in front of 16,000 fans last September in an arena built for the purpose at the Titanic Quarter, Belfast, that he had added patience to his power, scoring a virtual shutout over 12 rounds.
This fight is going indoors, at the Odyssey, which holds 11,000. Mrs Avalos should like the atmosphere. Michael Buffer will. The Buffed One will be at the microphone for ITV on their return to the sport, and he received a reception on Friday nearly as raucous as that for Frampton. The last American to be so welcomed here was Bill Clinton 20 years ago, although that might have been because Van Morrison blasted out Days Like This for the sax-loving president in front of 80,000 people celebrating the culmination of the peace process.
Buffer’s presence is a measure of the fight’s cache. If Frampton wins – as he should, probably inside the distance after a willing scrap – Frampton will set his sights on America. It was not the happiest of venues for Barry McGuigan, who guides his career and has dark memories still of losing his featherweight title to Steve Cruz in the century-plus heat of the Caesar’s Palace car park nearly 29 years ago.
Frampton is not content to own a slice of the super-bantam title; he wants to unify it by beating the superb Cuban Guillermo Rigondeaux, then move up to featherweight, win titles there and secure a place in boxing’s Hall of Fame, alongside McGuigan. That’s ambition.
To get there, Frampton has to control then dismantle Avalos, who, at 25, is three years younger than him and whose two defeats in 27 bouts were tight, on points in non-title 10-rounders against unbeaten opponents, Christopher Martin and Jhonatan Romero. He can hit, with a 70% stoppage ratio, but his CV is not littered with stars.
McGuigan’s son, Shane – who won his senior amateur title here on the same night as Frampton in 2004 – has done a splendid job of tutoring his determined and talented champion, and, at 27, might be the only trainer in the business younger than his fighter.
Frampton, baby-faced and dangerous, is reaching for his 20th win on the spin, the 14th before the scheduled finish. He should not disappoint his fanatical following.
