Where does Algieri run from the dustbin?
IT’S NOT the end of the road for Chris Algieri, that’s if we are to believe what the tall warrior with the tallest tales about his blasted guts announced upon returning to his cheerless home in Huntington, New York.
We’ll be seeing the real Algieri when he returns to action, that’s what the Shamed Roadrunner confided to Michael Woods of Sweet Science over the Thanksgiving weekend.
Algieri claimed he’s a lot better than that performance in Macau.
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“Chose the wrong style and didn’t adjust in time,” Algieri, 20-1, explained.
It was not that simple.
“I would’ve been better off just fighting my fight instead of fighting such a specified game plan like we did.”
Well said, but not easy to believe.
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For one, there’s no need for him to return to action for the world to see the real Chris Algieri.
Freddie Roach hit it on the botton when he told the Inquirer a couple of days before the Clash in Cotai II that Algieri was hollow.
Of course, not all sound and fury. There was no fury whatsoever, although he sounded noisy and angry enough in trying to redecorate and sell his impending mismatch against Manny Pacquiao.
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Let me confess: After vowing a boycott, your reporter here reconsidered and decided to get a plane ticket on credit to be at ringside in Macau.
Charge it to my native Pinoy gullibility, having nurtured a faith in senior Americans after that ringing heroic return of the great Gen. Douglas McArthur during the Japanese war.
Yes, Algieri looked and sounded great, brave enough to mount a boots-on-the ground ascent to the summit (of stardom).
He spoke of a hefty artillery, intangible and otherwise, in announcing how he would be in complete control.
He sounded intelligent, appeared neat and sophisticated, a shining model, almost unreal.
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That vision, however, started to evaporate after we first laid an eye on the Huntington Heartthrob working out in the hotel gym at the the Venetian Macao.
This was four days, the Wednesday, before the main event.
The Algieri on top of the ring was the exact opposite of the sharp, brave, competent world title challenger Bob Arum would expertly decorate and peddle.
He was awkward, slow, bereft of sharpness that this reporter had to wonder if this was not an impostor out there.
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Yes, he did turn out to be the real Algieri, who promptly ran in complete fear from Pacquiao starting the first round.
Algieri’s handlers said their man would unleash a hidden weapon, a killer right hand. He instead flashed a chicken heart.
They also said he would be in control and dominate with superior intelligence.
Algieri failed to control his nerves, thereby confusing Pacquiao and the boxing world.
Above all, he succeeded in displaying superior cowardice.
Now, he’s vowing to return again.
Come on pretty boy, give the noble sport of boxing and the honorable American soldier a break.