THUMBS DOWN

Despite re-styling himself as the "Fresh Prince" after a 13 month hiatus following his drubbing at the hands of Marco Antonio Barrera in April 2001, Prince Naseem Hamed left a stench at the Docklands Arena when he relaunched his career against moderate Spaniard Manuel Calvo on 18 May.

Politely, the Prince stunk the joint out, tossing a paltry 370 punches in the 36 tedious minutes it took him to assume custody of the International Boxing Organisation's featherweight alpha-belt that Barrera had declined to accept.

The British fight public, which had previously tolerated Hamed's sometimes nauseating, always bombastic, personality because they were captivated by his undeniable talent for powerpunching showmanship, expressed contempt for this apathetic showing with an unprecedented show of dissent.

From as early as round four, the knowledgeable 12,000 strong crowd expressed audible disgust by booing and whistling. Thereafter, the Prince was subjected to a humiliating barrage of soccer style chants that included "What a load of rubbish", "What a waste of money", "You're shit and you know you are" and, most spitefully, "Are you Bruno in disguise"!

To compound embarrassment as early as round nine, the "live" audience, who had shelled out up to £250 for a ringside seat, began exiting the Arena in their droves. Once the darling of a nation, Hamed's popularity appears to have sunk to new depths.

"I think the crowd should back the champion up, but if they want to boo, let them, it's not a problem," said Hamed, who won for the 37th time against the Barrera loss. "They don't know the art and craft of the business. It's a bit of ignorance, but I am still the most exciting fighter in Britain. I've entertained them for many a year and, God willing, I will entertain them for years to come."

I doubt that. Hamed's physical decline appears terminal. Despite pre-fight rantings about revamping his act, and returning to the laser quick combination punching of his prime some five years back, the 28-year-old from Sheffield had made negligible technical amendments to the style painfully exposed during those tortuous 36 minutes he shared with Barrera.

His once lightning speed and feline reflexes have both eroded with age and, the fighter who has styled himself the hardest hitting featherweight in history has now completed 72 minutes without registering a single knockdown. The spanking he absorbed from Barrera appears to have rendered him excessively cautious, almost gun-shy. Several shoddy shuffles did little to appease the dissenters, and with a toned down ring entrance and refusal to execute his fabled ring flip to enter the ring, the once riveting Hamed act has, frankly, become something of a bore.

In Calvo, he appeared to be blessed with the perfect opponent against whom to make an exhilarating return. Son of the 1968-9 European featherweight champ of the same name, Calvo Jr had also acceded to the EBU title and had lost just four times in 38 prior outings. However, two of those reverses had come against Doncaster tickler Jon Jo Irwin (June Ô95) and a decidedly shopworn Steve Robinson (April Ô99). The Madrid man, too, had been inactive for almost a year and failed to pack any semblance of ambition into his suitcase.

From the outset, Calvo's sole intention seemed to be preserving his reputation for having never been stopped and he proceeded with overt caution. Hamed failed to capitalise, largely because, as against Barrera, he has become consumed with an obsession to level the opposition with a single punch.

Hamed came closest to accomplishing this in round two, traditionally his favourite round, when he detonated a series of bombs flush against the Spaniard's sturdy jaw. One such left hook, delivered from the orthodox stance, apparently caused greater damage to Hamed's fragile hand than it did the intended target. Thereafter, it was deployed sparingly, resulting in 10 tedious rounds, which Hamed dominated while never coming close to executing a quick finish. For the record, the judges scored in his favour by margins of 120-110 and 119-109 (twice).

"I hit Calvo with a peach of a left hook in the second and immediately my hand felt like it was broken," revealed Hamed, who nevertheless could still clench the damaged fist at the post-fight press conference. "I'd look pretty foolish coming in here to explain that the reason I got knocked out in the third round was because I broke my hand in the second, that wouldn't be very professional."

Never one to shy from self-aggrandisement, he continued: "To my mind, I boxed with very good ability. My performance was fantastic. I loved it. I stuck with the gameplan and hit Calvo with every shot in the book. Remember he was a European champion who'd never been knocked out. The kid was very, very strong and in great condition but, let's face it, he got a beating and a half. I won the fight hands down."

Whilst hand damage could unquestionably have had a debilitating effect on Hamed's performance, the true cause of his decline might be psychological. His humbling at the hands of Barrera may have melted much of his self-belief and, a millionaire several times over, and dedicated family man, it is possible that the desire to secure legendary status by challenging and mastering his outstanding contemporary peers (Barrera and Erik Morales) no longer burns as strongly as once it did.

It is surely no coincidence that this was Hamed's fifth sub par performance in his six starts since severing ties with former mentor Brendan Ingle back in late 1998.

Puerto Rican trainer Oscar Suarez, exclusively in command of both the corner and training camp for the first time since Team Hamed's parting from Emanuel Steward, not only appeared tactically bankrupt but, for the first time in 38 starts, Hamed failed to make the championship weight; much to his chagrin (as he felt his religious beliefs were being compromised) he was forced to shed an excessively baggy pair of Burberry boxer shorts to shift the offending 5oz. Shoddy!

So what next? Prince Promotions, in cahoots with Barry Hearn, are tentatively aiming to launch Hamed again at Manchester's MEN Arena in July, fragile hands permitting. He will need to be pitched in with an opponent eminently more recognisable than Calvo if he has any intention of filling it.

With favoured challenger Michael Brodie unlikely to have recuperated from the injuries sustained in his heroic WBF title-winning effort on the undercard, recently crowned IBF king Johnny Tapia, the highly strung but highly talented New Mexico veteran, seems the likely opponent. That match-up would provide a significantly clearer measure of Hamed's future prospects on the highest world plane.

"Tapia, Barrera, Brodie - you name it, you got it," Hamed concluded. "I will get back to Las Vegas and give Barrera a severe beating."

On the form displayed against Calvo, not in my lifetime, he won't. Sadly, the days when Hamed's regal talent could atone for the obnoxious hyperbole now seem confined to history.

Michael Brodie made a convincing case that he, and not Hamed, is currently the nation's leading featherweight when he showed class and courage in equal measure to emphatically repel Argentinian ogre Pastor Maurin over 12 rounds to capture the vacant WBF championship. It was a rumble in the finest Anglo-Argentine traditions.

An impressive victory over Maurin - which was certainly achieved - was intended to secure the 28-year-old Mancunian, a July shootout with Naz on home soil at the MEN Arena. But the landslide (116-111(twice) 119-111) unanimous decision in his favour came at a cost. Brodie suffered a horrific gash to his right eye, which started to swell and close as early as the third, plus a suspected broken nose. In addition, he was clubbed almost senseless in the fourth, when he foolishly obliged the South American with a close-range slug out, and was later rescued by the bell on decidedly shaky legs, at the end of round 10. Brodie is unlikely to be fit enough to go again for some time and certainly not for the proposed greatest challenge of his career in July.

If the Hamed match does materialise, it is certainly one that the 5ft 6ins Brodie is capable of winning, on this evidence. Nimble of foot, and, for the most part, technically and tactically excellent, the Salford fighter deployed his sizzling combinations and ruthless body attack to control the feisty and impossibly awkward visitor.

At 5ft 3ins, Senor Maurin was right from the Argentinian fighting template. An ex-national and South American champion, he had triumphed in all but two of his previous 48 starts, was cast from granite and not averse to transgressing the rules.

In round six he gallantly hauled himself upright, when he had no right, after Brodie exploded a blistering four-punch combo that concluded with a classical straight right hand.

And though Brodie's superior speed and slickness had placed him in an unassailable lead by the ninth, he was forced to negotiate a furious avalanche late charge from Maurin - who goes by the ring handle of "Evil Cow"! - over the final seven minutes.

In the closing seconds of the 10th, Maurin sunk a savage left hook deep into Brodie's groin, then cleverly whipped the same punch over to the Manc's unguarded jaw. Whilst sliding to the canvas, Brodie should be eternally grateful that a hefty right club slammed against his shoulder and not his chin.

The final two rounds proved very testing but Brodie displayed majestic ring maturity to hold his act together against the 33-year-old brute. It was an utterly absorbing and entertaining spectacle.

"He was tough but I've got the heart of a lion and I boxed his head off," said an elated Brodie who upped his card to 33-1. "Me and Naz both want it and it's an excellent fight for the people. On my day, I can outbox anyone."

On their respective performances on this show, Brodie might be worth a punt if the Hamed clash does come to fruition.

In the eagerly awaited WBU and (vacant) WBF lightweight title clash that preceded Brodie-Maurin, north London-based Scouser Colin Dunne left many so called experts, myself included, sporting yolk-splattered chins when he peeled off a virtuoso clinic of quality pressure fighting to dismantle Wayne Rigby. The Manchester fighter, mysteriously below par, surrendered on his stool after 10 rounds.

Now in his 32nd year, Dunne was cast as a fighter in decline when dreadfully out of sorts during his controversial decision over South Africa's Martin Jacobs last January. His contention that he messed up the weight and was riddled with flu that night took on heightened veracity, on the back of his masterful return against Rigby.

Farcically, Rigby received two totally unwarranted counts, in rounds three and eight, from Dave Parris, an excellent referee who this time had a bit of a mare. But the "Dynamo" controlled the pace from the off with his busy jab and well placed left hooks to the ribcage.

Though fitness freak Rigby appeared to be in stellar condition and monstrously strong, he was never able to match Dunne's industry. In round six, a sharp left hook placed Rigby on his back for the fight's only authentic knockdown. By the conclusion, Dunne's mastery was absolute.

"After 37 pro fights, I just wish I'd been given the benefit of the doubt last time because it was the only fault on my record, apart from Michael Ayers, and that was when I was young,'' complained Dunne, who successfully defended his title for a sixth time and now sports a 37-1 (26 KOs) record.

"Tonight's performance proves Colin Dunne's back but, to my mind, I'd never gone away."