I recently watched 3 big fights on Showtime that took place within the past year or so, not sure exactly when. When they replay old fights they don't tell you when it took place. There was Glen Johnson vs. Chad Dawson, Antonio Tarver vs. Clinton Woods, and then the two winners against each other for the IBF and IBO world championships.

I didn't even know there was an IBO. I remembered WBA and WBC, and I knew there was a third group called IBF, but as for WBO, IBO and whoever else, that's just overkill. The sport has no central authority, so now they slice the pie at least 5 ways, and once in a blue moon they have what they call a unification bout between champions. The fact is, they rarely have a champion at all. Just 5 pretenders.

Anyway, to my eye it appeared that Showtime locked in four of the top 175 pounders to determine the best in the world more or less. Had I been more familiar with boxers I might have known at a glance that the two most respected 175 pounders n the world were left out. That would be, according to Ring Magazine if they are to be believed, Joe Calzaghe and Bernard Hopkins, rated 1 and 2. Odd to see a white man as a boxing champion at this weight, but Ring recognizes Joe Calzaghe as light heavyweight champ.

Here's what I made of the Glen Johnson vs. Chad Dawson fight. Glen Johnson is pushing 40. Chad Dawson is a kid in his mid 20s. Johnson sounds like a Rastafarian. Dawson is from Connecticut or somewhere. Johnson is a rough guy. Dawson is a cutie pie who dances and sticks and uses hand speed to score, and foot speed to stay safe. I suppose to some small degree you could compare Johnson to a Joe Frazier type, just in the sense that he's coming forward and he's aggressively throwing punches. You might even compare Dawson to an Ali type, float like a butterfly and sting like a bee. Don't be too exacting on the comparisons but at least it gives you a picture of what's going on.

Now Chad Dawson has a fantastic guy in his corner, trainer Eddie Mustapha Muhammad. I remember him when he was the light heavyweight champ himself, back in my day. He's got to be my age. He was a guy from Brooklyn, if I remember correctly, just like me. He was originally Eddie Gregory but then joined the wave of black fighters to turn black Muslim. I liked him back then and I like him more now.

Back then he was sluggish in the ring. He hit pretty hard but didn't move well and didn't overexert himself. He seemed to fight lazy. And yet he did become, for a short time, one of the alphabet world champions. He was never the best in the world but you don't have to be if there are several organizations awarding belts.

I enjoyed watching Eddie lift the spirits of his inexperienced young fighter Chad Dawson. He kept telling him how great he was doing. He kept reminding him of what to do, box the guy, don't trade punches. He was saying all the right things and setting a fantastic atmosphere in the young kid's corner, full of confidence and praise. You're doing great, champ, just keep doing what you're doing. And every round, Eddie's last words before the opening bell were Keep your chin down. That tells it all. Eddie's only fear for the kid was that he would get knocked out by the tougher Glen Johnson. Keep it as a boxing match and you will keep winning rounds. Brawl, and this Smokin' Joe Frazier type is going to knock you out of the ring.

The fight went to a decision and the young fast kid won enough rounds to win the fight. Glen Johnson was very disappointed. He always loses close decisions, usually home town gyps. He's a very tough fighter. After the fight he was extremely angry, thinking he had been robbed once again. It was one of those fights where there isn't a clear winner, and after it's over both fighters are nervous because nobody knows who won more rounds.

We learned that both Glen Johnson and Chad Dawson are exceptionally nice guys who are uncomfortable with curse words and are deeply religious. At one point, the most interesting moments of the show actually, Glen Johnson's trainer in the corner started cursing to try to motivate Johnson to turn it up a notch, fearing he was behind on points. It didn't help, Johnson went on to have his worst round of the fight, and the trainer kept his mouth shut from then on. The next fight was Antonio Tarver vs. Clinton Woods. Woods was the only white man among the group of four. He was English. He held some kind of belt, one of the W's or I's, I don't know which. He was a plodder. He'd plod forward and follow Tarver. Tarver led him a merry chase.

I had heard of Antonio Tarver. I remember him challenging Roy Jones Jr at a time before Roy was way over the hill. There was a time, maybe 10 or 12 years ago, when Roy Jones Jr was perhaps the best pound for pound fighter who ever lived, perhaps better than the immortal Sugar Ray Robinson. Well, I guess he was already somewhat over the hill, and Tarver beat him, a long time ago.

So I thought Tarver must be pretty good. What I saw surprised me. Tarver is also pushing 40 like Glen Johnson. Tarver likes to stay on his bicycle. This seems out of character if you listen to him talk because he is extremely brash before fights. He talks kind of like a young Cassius Clay. He talks about being pretty as a girl. Actually I think he is weird looking, but I guess his look passes for being as pretty as a girl. His wife looks like a black pinup girl, and to his mind I'm sure that is all important. She's got to be almost as pretty as he is, or she can't be his wife.

Mrs. Tarver was very proud of the way her man out-talked people before fights. She interpreted his brashness and bullshit as intelligence and said that the other fighter can't keep up with him. It's a mistake to confuse glibness with intelligence. He's a glib guy, and he may also be an intelligent guy but who knows.

So Tarver stayed on his bicycle and suckered the plodding white Englishman to follow him. The decision was eventually given to Tarver. It looked to me like the white Englishman didn't have enough hand speed, and Tarver fought a boring and non confrontational fight.

The two winners met, Tarver and Dawson, the aging famous ex champ and the young phenom and current champ. Before the fight Tarver did so much trash talking. But the fight itself was similar to Dawson's other fight, meaning that it went the distance without a very clear winner, but Dawson did seem to win more rounds than his opponent and get a decision.

Every round of the Tarver vs. Dawson fight was like every other round. Two guys throwing lots of punches, neither guy forcing the issue. Not much going on. Just a lot of hand speed.

The whole three fights were unsatisfying. Nobody really won anything. You just watched whoever seemed to be throwing the most punches. That's the guy who got the decision. It was unlike an MMA fight, where within a couple of minutes one guy is beating the shit out of the other guy, and you know who won the fight.

It felt like this is a new generation in boxing, a generation where nobody really gets to anybody else, you just see who throws the most punches, and there's the winner, big deal. It reminded me of the Vitali Klitschko fight with Samuel Peter. Neither one got to the other, Vitali Klitschko kept whacking Peter with that left of his which he held so low, down around his groin. Whap, hit him in the face with it. Whap, hit him in the face with it. At some point, Peter decided he couldn't reach the tall Russian, and he quit. Just quit. He wasn't hurt. No mas, no mas.

There's one thing I am envious of in boxing. They have Michael Buffer. The older brother Buffer. The one who says "Let's get ready to rumble." He's by far the best ring announcer. His brother, who does the UFC, sucks. Jimmy Lennon Jr., who does lots of boxing matches, is so-so and affected, the way he says "and-a" instead of "and". "And-a ladies and jennumen". Same shtick every time, and kind of corny. They call him "classy" because he goes "and-a".

Younger brother Bruce Buffer gives me the creeps. He spins around like a puppet to announce the fighters. It's so phony. Bruce Buffer calls it "the Buffer 180" for the fact that he quickly spins around 180 degrees. It's so damn phony it drives me nuts. Michael is not a phony, and conducts himself with dignity. I wonder if Michael Buffer knows that his brother sucks, or if he thinks he's good.