At the point when fighter Guillermo Rigondeaux initially met Jesse Reid, the mentor attempted to transform him. Reid had managed two dozen fighters to titles, many prepared in a forceful style with a high punch yield.
Longer than 10 years after the fact, the Cuban fighter remains absolutely what he was the point at which he started, similarly as he plans to confront John Riel Casimero in Carson at Dignity Health Sports Park.
In those days, Rigondeaux was pristine as an expert. Effectively a double cross Olympic gold medalist with a 374-12 record, he had a style all his own that had conveyed him to win against the absolute best. Reid had come in to help Freddy Roach at Wild Card rec center and was extended meager with a stable of fighters, including whiz Manny Pacquiao. Rigondeaux established a paramount first connection.
“When I first met him, I was standing talking, eye to eye, and he jumped right over me,” Reid said. “I’m about 5-feet, 9-inches or 5-feet, 10-inches, and he went right over the top of me.”
It was an association of maybe the Cuban boxing school’s most prominent understudies, a world-class guarded warrior ready to move his counter-punching assault the manner in which a baseball expert confuses players with fastballs followed by off-speed throws. With the set-up of abilities came unparalleled accuracy, each punch arrival just where proposed. The mix, conveyed by a left-hander with a new style, was a formula for slow-paced battles.
“I tried to get him from 20 punches a round to 100,” Reid said. “I got him up to about 60.”
Reid never got him to the forcefulness he needed him to have.
From that point forward, Rigondeaux’s vocation has been overloaded by an extensive rundown of pundits, journalists and telecasters who all call him exhausting. His previous advertiser, Bob Arum, called him exhausting and openly asked for him to be more forceful. Headliners advertiser Kathy Duva canceled his character putting. Previous HBO telecaster Jim Lampley said he didn’t track down the Cuban’s style convincing.
All things considered, over and over, his companions and mentors wonder about his ability.
Insect told ESPN in 2012 that Rigondeaux was “probably the greatest” ability he had at any point seen. He was intrigued to the point that he decided not to permit Rigondeaux to fight the easily recognized name Pacquiao.
Rigondeaux is as mind-boggling to comprehend for fans as he is for most contenders. His matches are a long way from the display of “Rough” as could be expected. He’s not known for junk talk, and he doesn’t appear to be all that irritated that fans discover him exhausting.
Battle examiner Frank Lotierzo said fans don’t get him, and with each move comes the danger of an overwhelming counter punch. Rigondeaux takes a secondary lounge to no warrior.
“A lot of the things he does can’t be learned, and all the things that can be learned he does,” Lotierzo said.
His unmistakable triumph came against the perilous Nonito Donaire, a force punching star who some accepted had arisen as a beneficiary to Pacquiao.
More than 12 rounds, Rigondeaux eased back Donaire into a muddled methodology. His corner had minimal in the method of exhortation. The solitary feature for Donaire was a tenth-round knockdown. Rigondeaux fell back onto the seat of his trunks, rose, and gave a little bow.
It was less a token of regard than a notice that Rigondeaux would again force his will. He did. Rigondeaux hurt Donaire with a straight left hand, compelling the boss to stick his right hand to his eye, pointlessly smacking at the more modest challenger with left snares.
It was a presentation of everything Rigondeaux could do that energized a few and maddened others. He had cowed an incredible boss into a torpid presentation. What’s more, when he was in a tough situation, he figured out how to force himself voluntarily. The predominant disappointment was, the reason doesn’t he do that constantly?
Rigondeaux has said he sees himself as a craftsman, with his most noteworthy accomplishment being his accuracy and economy. To swim into a fight would not be workmanship to him, nor his most obvious opportunity at winning.
While he had assembled a standing as a protective wizard who could hurt the best contenders in the game at whatever point he needed, he didn’t get more opportunities to demonstrate it. Not until he confronted Vasily Lomachenko, a lot more youthful, a lot greater warrior who demanded they battle at 130 pounds.
Rigondeaux resigned after six rounds.
“Lomachenko was just too big for him. He just wasn’t going to beat him. That’s why they have weight classes,” Lotierzo said. “The problem with fans is when a guy gets beat, they turn on them, and they need to be retrained.”
With Rigondeaux’s vocation approaching its decision, he just has countless more opportunities to intrigue. The point when that end comes may not be clear until we see it in the ring.
“He could get old whenever, and we simply don’t have a clue when it will occur,” Lotierzo said.