Richard Torrez Jr and the dangers of empty calories
Richard Torrez Jr beat Joey Dawejko by disqualification this past Friday
Despite a bevy of domestic accomplishments and a bronze medal at the 2019 Pan-American Games, one could argue that Richard Torrez Jr’s biggest pre-Tokyo spotlight came when Mauricio Sulaiman used a clip of his loss to Bakhodir Jalolov to disingenuously claim that letting pros into the Olympics posed a clear a present danger.
Suffice to say, his performance at the 2020 Games thoroughly buried that misstep. The 22-year-old’s road to the finals saw him beat Cuba’s Dainier Pero and stop decorated Kazakh Kamshybek Kunkabayev before dropping a competitive decision to Jalolov to claim silver. This past May, two years after turning pro as one of Top Rank’s future standard-bearers, Torrez passed his first real test in the paid ranks by finishing the undefeated Brandon Moore.
Then he turned around and fought Joey Dawejko.
There aren’t a whole lot of things at which I genuinely excel, certainly none in the same universe as an Olympic-caliber boxer. That said, I do play a mean fighting game. I was at the peak of my powers in Super Smash Bros. Ultimate, where my Bowser put up decent results in COVID-era online tournaments, but my blend of brainrot and excessive free time also carried me to solid heights in Guilty Gear -Strive-.
As my brain can’t retain combos longer than three or four hits, I used the character Potemkin, a cyborg with the size, speed, and damage potential of a runaway glacier. Potemkin doesn’t have many safe setups for his strongest moves, so using him effectively requires carefully studying and conditioning your opponents’ habits to know when to pull the trigger on high-commitment grapples.
As you can imagine, playing him at the highest levels is mentally draining. It’s like blitz chess except the timer is half a second and you can throw your opponents’ pieces at their heads while they’re trying to think.
-Strive-’s online multiplayer uses skill-based matchmaking; the more you win, the stronger the opponents it sends your way. Reaching the highest “Celestial Floor” requires surviving a grueling gauntlet of elite foes and too many consecutive losses will kick you back down to Floor 10. When the combined stress of out-thinking top players and keeping my position got too much, I’d leave the Celestial Floor and feast on lower-level opponents, whose relative lack of skill and experience allowed me to get away with sloppier play.
Looking back, whatever improvements came from the confidence boost were offset by a decline in technique. Turns out it’s hard to notice and fix bad habits when nobody’s punishing them.
That’s my big concern with Torrez and slow-walked amateur standouts in general. My personal philosophy re: prospect matchmaking is that while there’s no need to jump right into the shark tank, every opponent should pose a question that the prospect has yet to answer. Can they handle southpaws? Can they take a good shot? Do they have the endurance to go the distance against someone who pushes a good pace?
The possibility of defeat doesn’t have to be strong, but it has to be there. You’ll never find the cracks in your armor until someone tries to pry it open.
I just don’t see the benefits in facing the likes of Curtis Harper, Don Haynesworth, and Dawejko. “Getting rounds” is the common refrain, but how is whaling on a bottom-feeder for 15 minutes more productive than fighting elite amateurs or sparring competent people in the gym? It’s particularly puzzling in this case, as whatever flaws Torrez may possess, we know his motor isn’t one of them.
I’m not saying he has to be as aggressive as Vasiliy Lomachenko or Andy Cruz; we all saw what happened to Jared Anderson when he bit off more than he could chew. I just think he’s past the point where spoon-feeding is helpful to his development. Top Rank has one of boxing’s most extensive rosters of mid-tier big men and access to plenty more, so he’s not short on competent opponents. His next fight needs to be against someone like Guido Vianello, Joseph Goodall, Efe Ajagba, or Stephan Shaw, not some lumbering oaf who’s there to juice up his highlight reel.
The more you spin your wheels, the deeper the holes you’ll have to drive out of when it’s time to accelerate.