Interesting read, just some pieces.
#FreeRigeaux

It’s the fault of the language barrier, some will say. Or the desire for blood-and-guts slugfests. He’s just not marketable. Too aloof, too enigmatic. Will make my fighter look average and devalue his future prospects, managers will say. He just doesn’t sell tickets, promoters will say. Others say boxing is dead or in decline. Boxing is not dead, but the appreciation of “The Sweet Science” appears in rapid decline.
And one wonders what Carl Frampton (not to mention Leo Santa Cruz and others) will say years from now when the Rigondeaux question is brought up yet again. Will he truly believe his own platitudes of “the timing wasn’t right,” or “such a pity we couldn’t get it done”? Or will he privately regret not testing his skills against one of the greatest boxers to ever step into the squared circle? But forget the distant future; the tragedy is happening now as Rigondeaux battles privately with motivation and idleness, as opportunities shrink into nothingness and lethargy and procrastination launch their daily attacks.
Countless accolades at that level and tales of fleeing Cuba in a dinghy under cover of darkness to turn professional only add to the mystique. Those who controlled that escape operation must have viewed Guillermo as a future superstar and cash cow in the making. His status now is the kind of bizarre tragedy that only boxing can serve up. Inactive, ignored and avoided, this special talent is simply too brilliant to be considered worthy of competition.
I witnessed the great man in action on a tense night in Dublin a few years ago. A seven fight pro and already a world champion he was given a cheque of some decency one presumes to give Irish journeyman Willie” Big Bang” Casey an unlikely title shot. The usual hopes of a passionate home crowd were ruthlessly scuttled by Rigo, who dropped poor Willie like a sack of spuds.
Rigondeaux had entered the arena with a chilling smoothness of emotionless movement. A natural fighter, his entire mental and physical composition combined to create something approaching genius. And now us boxing anoraks find ourselves sharing short videos on social media celebrating his ability and cursing the economic semantics of the professional game.
The story of Rigondeaux thus far is the story of thwarted talent, the triumph of business over sport and the tragedy of conflicting human values. And it is very sad. We live in a world where Donald Trump is the most powerful man on the planet while Guillermo Rigondeaux sits beside a phone that never rings. There’s something very wrong with this picture.
Unless one sees Yeats gloomy old poem as a bleak and inescapable prophecy. Indeed, in boxing the centre hasn’t held for a long time now and mere anarchy continues to turn what was once called “The Sport of Kings” into a hollow travesty. Sadly, the rare gemstone of balletic pugilism that is Guillermo Rigondeaux remains surplus to boxing’s requirements, as once again economic necessity trumps talent and true sporting achievement. And boxing girds itself for the absurdity that is Mayweather vs McGregor. Anarchy, indeed.