This week, I want to talk about a specific event: the withdrawal of Robeisy Ramirez, a two-time Olympic champion and former featherweight world champion, who in his last fight, last Saturday, fought a rematch against the current WBO champion Rafael Espinoza. In the sixth round, he raised his hand, abandoning the contest due to a severe physical injury.
I want to express my thoughts, congratulating him and giving him a big round of applause because he proved himself to be a true Boxer with a capital “B.” He immediately realized the severity of his condition and, as an intelligent man, he knew when to stop. The facts later confirmed his decision, as follow-up exams revealed an orbital fracture.
What does all this mean? It means that when you’re a champion inside, if there are issues severe enough to jeopardize your health, you need to stop. Ramirez demonstrated that boxing isn’t just about fighting but also requires the ability to safeguard oneself both physically and mentally. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been for him to raise his hand in surrender after months of training and sacrifices to prepare for this crucial match, a match that could define his entire career.
Up to the sixth round, the fight was still evenly matched, with Espinoza slightly ahead in my opinion. Therefore, hats off to Ramirez because stopping in that moment and under those circumstances must have been even harder than winning a World Title. I hope that after his recovery, he gets back into the ring to show his worth once again.
I speak this way because I personally know what it means to abandon a fight, to admit that your opponent is better, and to see your dream of becoming a champion slip away. I remember well my IBF Flyweight World Title fight against reigning champion Moruti Mthalane…
Three and a half months away from home in preparation, focusing on every detail (technique, physical strength, and exploiting weaknesses), knowing that my opponent not only had great technical skills but also exceptional physical strength. 80% of his fights had ended by KO, and his last two mandatory challengers had declined to face him for the title for this very reason. However, at the age of 35, when the IBF declared me the mandatory challenger, I couldn’t resist and chose to take on that fight, fully aware of the risks.
I prepared for the fight as I never had before, except for my first European title victory at the Vigorelli in Milan. I knew I was the underdog and had to hope that during the match, my opponent might falter physically or mentally—perhaps due to the pace, the pressure, or the fear of defending his title on foreign soil.
When the day arrived, the bell rang, and the battle began: first exchange, punch for punch, and I felt an electric shock course through my body—it really hurt. I finished the first round, and during the break, I listened to my trainer, Massimiliano “Momo” Duran: “Andreino, how is it? Does it hurt? Don’t worry, keep him there, respond intelligently, don’t exchange, use that left hand. Sooner or later, he’ll tire, and we’ll start our fight. Then you can exchange more frequently, turning the scorecards in our favor, and if we can, we’ll knock him out! We’ve prepared for this, so be patient and focused!” I replied, “Momo, I have to say it really hurts!”
Second, third, and fourth rounds: nothing changed. I tried to use technique, but I couldn’t give my 100%; he was increasingly confident and determined. Instead of slowing down, he picked up the pace, making his punches even more impactful. At the end of the seventh round, I told Momo, “It’s impossible; instead of slowing down, he’s increased his output, and I can assure you that every punch he lands hurts like hell—not just on the body but deep into the brain!”
At the start of the ninth round, I remember it as if it were today, I tried to exchange a bit more, but he countered every punch, increased his rhythm, and hit me with an uppercut to the liver. I felt the punch, didn’t go down, but knew I was losing: I raised my hand and surrendered.
Everyone was shocked, criticism and attacks began, but I silently went back to training and moved forward. After that world title fight, I continued my career until 2015, fighting for various titles: three European titles and a European Union title. At 41, I won my last match and then retired without bitterness and without regrets!
I share all of this to help you understand that boxing isn’t a brawl where whoever hits harder always comes to the top. Practicing boxing with a touch of intelligence and creativity alongside physical strength can lead you to win 90% of your battles and extend your career long enough to achieve the ultimate goal of becoming a champion!