A great fighter in his prime tends not to be a charitable one, certainly not as it concerns rivals or those who may have beaten him. That’s why I’ll always remember what Keith Thurman told me back in 2016 — when he was rightfully moving up pound-for-pound lists and a potential successor to Floyd Mayweather — about Demetrius Andrade.
“Coming up in the amateurs, the only one I never beat was Boo Boo Andrade,” he said wistfully.
It was a grant of respect, Thurman’s way of conceding that Andrade would always remain that superior talent in his mind’s eye. If you recall Andrade as a pro — not exactly ancient history — you have an idea what Thurman was talking about: an elusive southpaw with his very own style.
It’s one of the highest compliments a fighter can receive — that he or she doesn’t look like anyone else in that ring. Andrade held the WBO titles at junior middleweight and middleweight, managing to remain undefeated for 15 years, until his apparent last fight, when he moved up for an interim title at 168 pounds, a last-ditch attempt at a signature fight against David Benavidez. Most of that seems forgotten, though.
Rather, what inevitably comes up in any discussion of Andrade is his calling out Canelo Alvarez at a 2021 news conference following Canelo’s destruction of Billy Joe Saunders, a victory that earned him custody of the WBC and WBO super middleweight belts.
“I’m a big fan,” Andrade began respectfully. “When can we make it happen?”
The exchange ended moments later, somewhat less respectfully, with Canelo telling Andrade to “get the f—out of here,” which, eventually, having no other choice, he did. Not only was that the closest Andrade ever got to a Canelo fight, but it also brings me to a point:
Canelo may represent a score, a career-high payday for most fighters. But obsessively calling him out — as it feels like an entire generation of middleweights and 168-pounders have done — is not to be confused with having a career. In fact, for most fighters, it’s a trap, an irretrievable time suck that steals their most precious commodity, their primes (the same holds true for guys who spend years calling out Tank Davis and, more recently, Naoya Inoue). Being a No. 1 contender, a mandatory, or God forbid, deserving counts for almost nothing here. Sanctioning bodies and promoters will always favor the Canelos of this world.
So, what’s a fighter to do?
Exactly what the aforementioned David Benavidez is doing Saturday — moving up and moving on, fighting another guy Canelo wants no part of, David Morrell, on Saturday at the T-Mobile Arena in Las Vegas.
Nobody has called out Canelo longer (since 2020), with greater justification, or less success than Benavidez, who defended his interim WBC title with a unanimous decision over Caleb Plant and knocking out Andrade while Canelo was allowed to defend his actual WBC title against John Ryder (a game Englishman with five losses) and Jermell Charlo, who was moving up two divisions after a 16-month layoff.
Now, I’m not asking you to stand and cheer for an $80 pay-per-view; that would be only slightly less shameful than asking people to pay $90 for, say, Canelo-Edgar Berlanga. Just recognize Benavidez-Morell for what it is: Not only the best matchup on American soil since Errol Spence Jr.-Terence Crawford in 2023, but exactly the fight that never gets made. These are two guys at their physical peak (Morrell is 27, Benavidez, 28), but with no real title at stake. It isn’t being subsidized by Saudi Arabia. There’s no Canelo money here. Nor are there hordes of casual fans who’ve hyped themselves onto one bandwagon or another. Most haven’t a clue about Morrell, an undefeated southpaw schooled in the Cuban system, with nine knockouts in 11 pro fights, a couple of them truly terrifying.
“I want what money can’t buy,” Benavidez told me this week. “I want the glory. I want the respect. I want to achieve greatness.”
There remains only one way to get there — not by calling anyone out, but by embracing risk. How do you think Canelo got to be Canelo? He was willing to fight guys who would make him look bad (Erislandy Lara) and worse, who could beat him (Mayweather). But losing to a great fighter doesn’t damage a champion’s reputation so much as beating a string of nondescript ones. Could Benavidez lose? Yes. More importantly, though, he’s making his move — reminding the sport, or what’s left of it, that a great fighter doesn’t wait for the stars and the moon to align in perfect synchronicity, and he sure as hell doesn’t wait on other fighters.
That doesn’t stop with Morrell either, even presuming Benavidez wins. Next, he wants the winner of Artur Beterbiev–Dmitry Bivol, who fight on Feb. 22 in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. “If something happens and we can’t,” he said, “I would definitely go up to cruiserweight.”
To fight Zurdo Ramirez, he means.
“We’d welcome that fight,” said Julian Chua, the trainer who’s raised Ramirez’s game.
No snark there, just respect, as Chua remembers Benavidez from Hollywood’s Wild Card gym, where he was variously known as “Jose’s little brother” — Jose Benavidez, six years his senior, being a blue-chip prospect back then — or “the fat kid.” By age 12, Benavidez’s weight had ballooned to 250 pounds.
“It was shocking,” Chua recalled. “It didn’t make sense: this little fat kid with superfast hands. His body type and shape didn’t match how athletic he was. And that mean streak! He was a super nice kid, just not in the ring. But he’d fight anybody. That’s how he got his experience. That’s how he became who he is.”
Who he is, at least in that ring, is preternaturally relaxed, with a body and a style that are his alone.
“I started sparring Kid Chocolate, Peter Quillin,” Benavidez said, referring to the former WBO middleweight champion. “Then, at 14, it was Kelly Pavlik and Lateef Kayode. At 15, [Gennady] Golovkin. At 16, Bivol. When I was 19, I started sparring Zurdo Ramirez. I would get the best of them, and they would try to hurt me and to knock me out. So I know what works with great fighters, and what doesn’t. And I also know where I am in my career.”
Now fully in his prime, with a chance to be great, and determined not to waste it.
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