Harrison: Contender or Pretender?
“A-Force” TKO’s Davis in 7 

By Joe Rein
FightBeat.com Exec. Editor
Photos by Jan Sanders
www.hollywoodheadshotstudio.com

For a few seconds, Americans saw the promise of undefeated 2000 British Olympic Super Heavyweight Champion, Audley “A-Force” Harrison…and a spark in a division on life support. It was sudden, decisive and destructive.  A final whistling left, of a series, in the seventh round sent Robert Davis sprawling across the ring, tangled in the ropes like a marionette.  Referee Raul Caiz saved the journeyman at 2:21.  

Harrison’s appearance in the TV main-go against Davis on FSN’s “Best Damn Sports Show Period”, with James Toney as a guest, was supposed to kick-start his career, especially if a clip circled the globe of a flare-up with Toney. 

If there was an erector set for matchmakers, Davis would have been built for Harrison: good sized, punched creditably  -- 16 of 31 wins by KO -- names like Michael Moorer, and Monte Barrett on his resume -- competitive but not impregnable – a target. 

The 6’6”, 254, Harrison didn’t start against Davis to exploit the showcase.  There was a zip code between them, as the southpaw, Harrison, circled left, cautiously.  

Davis pressed forward -- hands high and tight -- chin tucked in -- like a mechanical fighter in an arcade game, trying to get past “A-Force’s” jab and find a home for his hook.  But Harrison kept sliding off behind the lance

Though there was but an inch difference in their reach, Harrison’s jab stretched across the ring.  

Suddenly, Davis looked up from the canvas.  A quick, stiff jab – or tangled feet – deposited him. The ref ruled it a knockdown, despite Davis’s protestations.  

In the second, Davis shuffled forward purposefully, but without any answers to the riddle. The bout settled in to a dull recital, more befitting a surgical theater than a fight arena. The silence was deafening – only the odd shout for more action roused those nodding off. It had all the enjoyment of Chinese water torture.  ‘What kind of a statement did Harrison think he was making?’ 

“The fight’s tonight!” cracked a photog on the ring apron.  The most colorful thing about Harrison was the canary yellow and scarlet of his fringed trunks.  

Harrison brought lots of attitude to pre-fight interviews.  But, by the end of round six, he appeared more bark than bite – a less frenetic Larry Donald. Worst of all: dull. 

It was true: ‘You can’t judge a book by its cover.’ 

The only reason the media wouldn’t savage him: Raining on a parade doesn’t come easy after the kind of buffet Pechanga layed out for the press. 

In the seventh, Harrison was vindicated.  The 27 minutes of sleepwalking was forgiven, with an exclamation point.  A killer heavyweight replaced the choral conductor.

 

Harrison found his opening -- crashed four punches to Davis’s head, turning his legs to string.  He stumbled across the ring, drunk -- the ropes saving him from a judge’s lap. The ref stopped it immediately. 

That flash of power reminded why heavyweight was once the premier division. It erased the excruciating six rounds previous. 

After Harrison’s arm was raised, the man who towered over most in the arena disappeared in a sea of euphoric scarlet and yellow at center ring.  Harrison scrambled through the scrum and bounded down the steps, brushing past the microphones of eager reporters -- with an imperial wave of his hand -- and made a beeline for more important exposure on TBDSSP 

Harrison’s trainer, Thell Torrance, explained Audley’s puzzling strategy of consistently moving left into Davis’ power. “Davis is a natural left hander,” he said, “ He knows how to fight southpaws.  If you watch his old fights, he throws a pretty durn good hook.  What we were attempting was: Step over to Davis’s right side -- to cut him off – make him lead when he was off balance, and get off combinations.” 

Mission accomplished.

Harrison carries himself as if his coronation is Manifest Destiny.  The big question is: In a division full of sequoias, how does he take the kind of punishment he dished out?  He didn’t show any enthusiasm to provide an answer. 

He may be the next Herbie Hide, but at least he’s on the radar and worth watching.  What we know is: His intensity doesn’t match his agility, so we don’t know if his vision is a mirage.  

 But as a salesman, he’s got it down: He knows how to close.  

Johnson-Diaz, hvywt, 10 rnds 

In an attempt to get his career back on track after a broken hand and torn pec, Kirk Johnson fought the semi-windup.   He had too much for Yanqui Diaz.  But it wasn’t the seminal outing to regain the heat of his KO’s over Lou Savarese and Oleg Maskaev. 

One good sign was, at 246, Johnson was 14 pounds less than when he folded against Vitali Klitschko. He had too much hand speed, too many tools and ring savvy for the bulked-up 232-pounder from Cuba.  

At the bell, Diaz and Johnson challenged for territory at mid ring.  Diaz blinked first.  Johnson’s jabs and straight rights to the body established he was the Alpha. 

Diaz’s prayer was a pawing jab and a long, overhand right – it almost came from Cuba.  It had bad intentions, but never came close to landing.  Without his Hail Mary, Diaz was stripped of a weapon 

In the second, Johnson was penalized a point -- without a warning -- for a low blow.  Diaz writhed on the canvas in the fetal position. He didn’t look like he’d get up…and if he did; he’d surely have no fight in him.  His face was contorted in pain when he slowly got up.  The ref gave him time to recuperate.  

Johnson decisively won every round, mixing it up to the head and body.  He hit Diaz low again in the third, but didn’t get penalized.  

Johnson was landing unanswered straight rights to the body. Not only did they rack up points, they sapped Diaz’s reserves.  It was thump, thump, thump. 

In the fifth, Johnson knocked a weakened Diaz down twice with sharp right uppercuts. They cracked heads at the end of the round;

   

Diaz streamed blood from a Grand Canyon gash on his forehead.   Between rounds, the doctor examined it and ruled he shouldn’t continue. Johnson was awarded a technical decision, 49-42, 49-42, 49-43.

A little like kissing your sister, but a W’s a W. 

Tann-Bryant, hvywt, 8 rnds 

Malcolm Tann, 231, may be apple-cheeked – loosey-goosey, with a quick grin -- but he showed “old school” grit getting off the canvas from a devastating knockdown in the first round against Derrick Bryant to out-skill and out-work his harder-punching opponent. 

In an early exchange, Bryant nailed Tann to the canvas with a left to the jaw. “Forget a count!”  “Get a crowbar!”  

To the astonishment of all, with a dreamy smile, Tann made it to his feet at nine.  On instinct, he avoided Bryant’s furious incoming and waltzed him around till the bell.  Archie Moore didn’t do it better against Yvonne Durelle. 

For the next three rounds, the slugging Bryant took the play away, while Tann re-grouped.  Tann bought time, but looked like a stiff breeze would topple him.  

But, in the fifth, the tide started to turn. 

Tann changed tactics.  He didn’t play the bullfighter; he took the fight to Bryant, who couldn’t load up going backwards.  Tann’s punches were shorter, busier. He didn’t blackjack; he belabored. Bryant launched fewer and fewer haymakers.

Down the stretch, Tann wore Bryant down like water on a stone.  Between the energy he squandered trying to finish Tann early, 11 months of inactivity, and Tann’s dizzying movement and work rate, it was uphill for the Bryant…and the 217-pounder was fading fast.  

In the final round, they let it all hang out -- mano e mano! Bryant’s punches were heavier but Tann landed two to one.  In the last few seconds, Bryant threw from his heels. Tann didn’t back off.  Bryant started to list…at the bell.  The fans roared.  

Hard to imagine at the weigh-in both fighters kept breaking up when photographers asked them to “Look mean!” squaring off. 

It was unanimous for Tann, 76-75, 77-74 twice…and his biggest weapon was character. 

When I asked on the way to the dressing room what he was thinking when he was on his back, he said, still pumped from his victory, “No matter what it takes, I’m not going out on the canvas.  I’m showing my mettle.” 

Walker- Johnson, hvywt, 6 rnds 

If a heavyweight fighter was being picked by his look, Travis Walker would get the call -- a sculpted 6’4”, 240, and his punches looked as intimidating as his frame.  It was against a heavy-bag of an opponent, Carlton Johnson.  But he had the crowd “OOHing” with every body- quivering slam he landed to Johnson’s face and ample middle, against the ropes. 

Walker mugged Johnson in less than a minute, before the ref saved him. 

Though only a journeyman, 10 of Johnson’s 15 wins were by KO.  Walker never gave him a chance.  At the opening bell, the 2003 National Golden Gloves Super Heavyweight Champ drove Johnson back with a ramrod left and sunk rights and lefts to his head and body that sounded like “Rocky” whaling on the side of beef. 

Walker’s right looks like the releasing of a longbow – straight, true, and with the same impact …against a stationary target.   Walker showed improvement over his last fight, sitting down on his punches and focusing on the body. If trainer Dick Woods can have him relax, and cut off the ring, he could be a formidable presence in the division. 

He upped his record to 11-0, with nine KO’s. 

Reynolds-Barrigan, jr. wltr, 4 rnds 

“I want to concentrate on doing things right and impressing the crowd, “ said undefeated Lorenzo Reynolds, two-time National Golden Gloves Champion, at the weigh-in for his bout with Carlos Barragan.  He did exactly that. 

The 21-year-old southpaw from Saiginaw, Mich. showed all the disciplined skills and mechanics he’d learned in over 200 amateur fights, against the stubborn journeyman from Guamass, Mexico. 

Reynolds jab rammed like Quartey’s, his combinations were crisp and tight, and his left cross was textbook.  At 140 1/2, 5’11” plus, he conjured up Tommy Hearns. 

He was patient and efficient.  In the first round, he caught Barrigan in a corner and stunned him with a straight left, reloaded and dropped him with same punch.  It looked like a finisher, but Barragan showed pluck – got up and finished the round. 

Barrigan refused to rollover, stood in on exchanges and landed a few rights when Reynolds squared up. Barrigan scrapped till the final bell, but Reynolds won it convincingly, 58-54, 59-50, 59-53. 

He showed the firepower, fundamentals and hand speed to be a prospect to watch. 

He upped his record to 6-0, with 3KO’s 

Butler-Biles, Hvywt, 4 rnds  

Raphael Butler (10-1, 8 KO’s), the 20004 Nat’l Golden Gloves Champion, at 254, looked like a middleweight against Kerry Biles, 271, from Springfield, Missouri. (6-6-1, 3 KO’s) 

Butler mixed his punches very well early on, countering with looping rights and lefts over Biles’ pushing jab, finishing with an uppercut/hook.  Whenever Biles reached him, he was paid back with twice as many in a sustained burst – all accurate and with good leverage.  

Biles, in a delayed-reaction, was dropped in the first round. It looked like Butler would make short work of the big man, like Dempsey chopping down Willard. 

But Biles refused to quit and kept laying his weight on Butler.  

By the third round, Biles connected with some blows -- nothing of substance --

but he was back in the fight, and Butler was tiring.  Whatever Butler could muster was cleaner and harder, but Biles ate them and continued to lean on him. 

In the final round, Biles did more; and though less talented, showed resolve until the bell. 

One can only speculate if the bout went the originally scheduled six if Biles’s heart would have overcome Butler’s ability. 

  

It was scored 39-36 by all three judges for Butler. 

It was a Goossen Tutor Promotion, in association with Pechanga Resort & Casino in Temecula, California.