Miguel Cotto connects on Antonio Margarito (Madison Sq. Garden):
"...like when they had the big match against Muhammad Ali and Smoky Joe."
Antonio Margarito (w/ broken right orbital bone):
"Miguel Cotto’s Puerto Rican, but Madison Square Garden is like his home crowd. All the Puerto Ricans turn out for him. And when they do he sells-out the entire place, not just what they call 'The Theater at Madison Square Garden,' which is a lot smaller. That’s where they usually stage all the fights; but Cotto’s so popular he sells out the whole big Garden."
And that’s who’s fighting tonight?” Buttons asked, wide eyed from her bar stool.
“Yep,” I told her, “he’s fighting a Mexican guy named Antonio Margarito,”
“Oh a Mexican, eh? Wow.”
“Yep, Mexicans and Puerto Ricans have been fighting a long time,” I told her as we clinked glasses filled with fresh drinks, “but the Mexicans usually win.”
“Wow, I didn’t know that.”
“Its true, but I think this is gonna be Cotto’s night.”
Jules suddenly ambled back thru the door. He’d been outside on a call--one of several he had to take despite it being Saturday, but now returned with a determined look to drink his pint of Stella.
“Hey there Lodo,” he said as he smacked my back and grabbed his pint off the bar, “I just got off the phone with a couple of my Mexican buddies out in California and they say that guy Margarito’s one tough mother-fucker and that he’s gonna whip your guy Cotto’s butt!”
“They said (here Jules took another dramatic swig of his beer for Button’s amusement and thrust his finger into my chest) “that Margarito’s one tough fucking Mexican and that you have to kill that guy if you’re gonna beat ‘em and that your man Cotto ain’t the guy to do it!”
“You’ve gotta b...”
“Oh no way!” Buttons suddenly interjected in my defense as she slammed what must have been her third Cosmopolitan down on the bar. “Your guy cheated last time and this is Cotta’s hometown--right Lodo? All the Puerto Ricans are gonna turn out and they’re gonna fill the whole Madison Square Garden like when they had the big match between Muhammad Ali and Smoky Joe. Lodo told me everything, the whole story. "Bout those things inside his gloves; that--plaster. Cotta’s fans are pissed off! You betcha they are. That’s why Lodo couldn’t get tickets.”
Wow reader, I’d really sold Buttons on this fight. That eagerness of her’s. Her sister Rules could never have been convinced to go to a boxing match. Soon as it was mentioned her ears would have turned off. But Buttons gets it. Her and Jules both. A championship fight? HBO? The Garden sold-out to the roof with vengeful Puerto Ricans? Oh yeah, we get that. Made me alittle upset that I’d grown irritated with her earlier.
And even Jules--who’s finger-jab I didn’t like turned out to be a surprise.
“So listen Lodo,” he said to me a short time later, “ Buttons and I definitely want to go this fight. And we want to take you with us.”
“Yeah, really brother. Why don’t you find us three tickets and we’ve got yours covered.”
"Margarito's one tough fucking Mexican and you have to kill that guy if you're gonna beat em..."
* NOTE: Thanks to anyone who's stuck w/ me so far on this one. I got side-tracked for several days; and also wanted to get some permissions in regards to picture usage (permissions I never could get). I apologize if this installment doesn't really push the narrative along; but I had to get back in the groove/feel of this post. Part 3 should be here a lot faster. All pics included herein were stolen off Google Images. See you in a few days--and thanks again!!