Josh Warrington vs Carl Frampton: A great British fight with no strings attached, destined to end in controversy
Light and shade, champion and challenger, favourite and underdog and 36-minutes to diminish the glow from the other man
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.They meet on Saturday in Manchester for a modern jewel in an ancient fight with too many echoes of smokey nights in tiny three-roped rings when the very best met the very best.
Josh Warrington delivers the bauble, Carl Frampton delivers the proven boxing history and 19,000 fanatics will sit, just fifty-hours before Christmas dawn, to witness the type of fight the modern business too often shuns in its endless flight to the bling fairyland of riches.
Warrington is unbeaten, won the title against the odds at his beloved Elland Road with a display of grit, romance and jubilation to beat a bewildered and cut Lee Selby in a display that made boxing’s ugliest men choke. Selby was not meant to lose, the fight was an annoyance to him and a simple pit-stop to an outdoor showdown with Frampton. “I was given no respect then and it’s the same now,” Warrington insists and he is right.
Frampton won his first world title in the chill of a Belfast night, outdoors in the very dock where the Titanic was constructed, sealing his love affair with boxing’s proudest nation. He added the featherweight title one unforgettable night in New York against unbeaten Leo Santa Cruz. It was a performance for the ages, a win from the lost eras of the sport when the pale and apparently weak British best stopped the boxing heartbeat with grand wins on American soil. In the Fifties Frampton would have led the Pathe news clip.
A few months later Frampton met Santa Cruz again, it was January in Las Vegas and behind the neon a collapse of trust, faith and friendship was starting to ruin the Belfast boy. In the ring that forgettable night Santa Cruz was better, simple in his plan, deadly over 12 rounds and Frampton lost for the first and only time. A nasty split with boxing promoter Barry McGuigan and his family followed a few months later. A court case or two beckons and in sport no split is as hateful as in boxing where both sides are torn by shared experiences and certain they are right.
They meet for the IBF featherweight title, two men with more on their minds than the red trinket, a belt like all the other garish baubles travelling the globe in search of validation in a sport in the middle of a golden period; championship belts distort fights each and every weekend with their often fake approval. Frampton and Warrington are the best two featherweights in Britain by some considerable distance, arguably number one and two behind the regal Santa Cruz, whose only flaw is his reluctance to fight Frampton in Belfast like he promised.
During the last ten or so weeks close to a dozen British boxers have lost - some going down heavily - in world title fights without any conviction that they were the best in Britain at their weight. It is a convenient deceit to blame the modern game for seemingly limitless opportunities, but it is a relief when something like Frampton and Warrington washes up on the sport’s damaged shores. It has been a long time since the British Boxing Board of Control openly refused to sanction a British boxer’s attempt to win a world title, fearful they might be accused of denying a working man a life-changing payday. “It’s nice to have the money,” Joe Bugner once said when told about another hard fight against one of the fearsome heavyweights from the Seventies. “But it’s even nicer to be able to count it and spend it.” The risk versus reward argument is lost from the boxing debate.
It will be a beautiful night for boxing fans in Manchester, free from the shackles of hype and inanity, just the very best, two fighters with contrasting styles desperate to out-box the other. Warrington’s head is a bit loose, Frampton’s legs might be a bit slower, Warrington throws more punches, Frampton can finish a fight with just one punch. Light and shade, champion and challenger, favourite and underdog and 36-minutes to diminish the glow from the other man. They had nights like this when a world title opportunity was a genuine rarity, when just one or two versions of a world title existed and just one or two British boxers each year had a chance to change their life and make history.
This is a great British fight with no strings attached and it will go long, unless cuts ruin the action, and will end in controversy and screaming in the centre of the ring at the final bell. A draw is a decent punt, the odds are lovely. However, Frampton is the sensible pick, but Warrington is a hard man to back against. Sit back and enjoy it.
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments