Joshua stops Takam in brutal round 10 of 12 round heavyweight fight.
This was boxing at its most raw and primitive, a heavyweight title fight that once again produced another authentic British fighter who knows how to punch and won't be stopped until he smashes and batters his opponent into submission. It was the kind of boxing most of us thought we'd never see from a British fighter again and for a brief period of time your mind took you back to those stirring nights in the ring when the likes of Frank Bruno and Lennox Lewis did their utmost to re-invigorate British boxing and restore it to full health.
In front of a feverish 75,000 crowd at Cardiff's Principality Stadium, Anthony Joshua retained his world heavyweight boxing title and for the fight fans who thought they'd seen it all, this was a perfect vindication of Joshua's continued supremacy. Sometimes there are nights in British boxing when it all comes together and last night in the Welsh capital, a man called Joshua sent boxing's most seasoned of observers into wild paroxysms of delight. This was indeed the night of nights.
Joshua it was who finally stopped a French fighter called Carlos Takam, a dogged and gritty opponent who wonderfully refused to give in, a model of stubbornness and grim defiance who just wouldn't go down when commonsense should have told him to do just that- and then stay there. But the longer this remarkable fight went on the more likely it seemed that Takam would still be standing upright in Cardiff at midnight.
When Joshua beat the towering giant that was Klitschko, the experts said that nobody could give Joshua a decent fist fight and that all bets would be off for this clobbering, clubbing prizefight. But this was a fight that gave us an evening of bloodthirsty brutality and sadistic savagery. It was boxing at its most gory, gruelling, vicious and confrontational. You were reminded of some of those tremendously riveting classics, those Las Vegas slugfests involving the genius of Muhammad Ali, the epic endurance shown by George Foreman, Joe Frazier and Ken Norton. Boxing sometimes lifts you off your seat and gets you right there.
From round one both Joshua and Takam huddled down with shoulders like mountain tops and muscles like boulders before jabbing at thin air and then measuring their head shots with all the careful calculation of a world chess champion moving both bishops and pawns to devastating effect. Joshua spent the first couple of rounds sparring cautiously with his opponent, searching for weaknesses in his armour and gaping deficiencies in Takam's masterplan that would eventually be ripped open and found exposed.
The rounds would follow in grisly procession with all the warlike attrition of boxing's finest vintage. Joshua slowly moved his adversary into areas of the ring where the body shots and then the head blows would proves to be at their most effective. This was merciless boxing of almost crushing callousness where both Joshua and Takam made it abundantly clear that pain and suffering would be their ultimate objective.
Most of the bookies had predicted that this fight would quite certainly end before it had even started but they didn't bargain on a brief period of concern in the Joshua corner. In the second round Joshua was cut and the blood poured out of his nose like a raging red river. For a moment it seemed that those in the know would have to revise their forecast and look at the whole of this fight in a totally different perspective. Joshua was rocked back on his otherwise sturdy feet and Cardiff held its breath.
But the rounds continued with both men lurching forward and then firing off a series of increasingly destructive hard hooks that some could even hear in Glamorgan. Joshua rolled forward, digging into his repertoire of heavier and more hurtful punches that almost sent Takam toppling into a crumpled heap. But, to Takam's eternal credit, Joshua had work for the spoils of victory, jabbing, pushing back, grappling, eyeing up a lethal hit that would finish the fight.
Then both men would lock arms, shoving each other relentlessly before threatening to knock their heads into another country. For a minute you were reminded of those British heavyweight heroes from other weights who had done so much to electrify fight fans in Britain. There was the rugged, nuggety Alan Minter, the superb Ken Buchanan and of course our legendary 'Enery Cooper. Henry Cooper was the man who almost turned the whole of the boxing universe upside down when Cassius Clay just collapsed in his corner but then came back to dismantle and dismember Cooper.
And then as the fight began to reach its juddering, stunning climax, there was a lengthy passage of head clashing as both boxers simply went in search of that conclusive knockout blow. This was boxing at its most thudding, muscular and hardest. It was a contest involving two boxing gladiators who simply refused to throw in their respective towels. Joshua battered and bludgeoned while Takam valiantly held his gloves together in an impromptu shield that was about as protective as a tea cosy.
Now Joshua, sensing blood and victory, just went for the jugular and drove Takam into helpless defeat. By the eighth and ninth round Takam was similarly bloodied and heading for what seemed like a personal capitulation. But the man from France kept surging forward and at one point almost invited Joshua to hit home with the most teasing of gestures. But the end was in sight for Takam and he probably knew it.
The Takam eyes were now a mass of cuts, blinding blood turning his face a bright crimson. Sadly, Takam's vision had become cruelly shut and obscured by a combination of more cuts to his face. But his resistance was admirable and even though it seemed only a matter of time before the referee had to call it a day, Takam wouldn't let it go, his spirit undimmed and undaunted by the massive magnitude of his task.
In the 10th round, with doctors by the ringside compassionately dabbing his eyes and seemingly holding up the regulation fingers, Joshua came in for the final, gruesome barrage of booming hooks and upper cuts that left the referee with no alternative but to stop this marvellous fight. By now Takam was simply going through the motions of a man who wanted to carry on but knew in his heart that this would not be the most advisable course of action.
There was a flurry of punches from Joshua and the referee pulled Takam mercifully away from his opponent, waving his hands together and sparing the French fighter greater punishment. Joshua had retained his heavyweight title and Britain celebrated a boxing heavyweight champion before his largely jubilant fans. There should be more nights like this for Britain. We may even get used to that sweet scent of victory when the sweet science of boxing comes calling.
Meanwhile thousands of miles away in a hot and beautiful corner of India, England's Under 17 football team had brought their World Cup back to England. How long has Britain had to wait for these richly salad days in October when the clocks have gone back an hour and the BBC Saturday spectacular of Strictly Come Dancing presents its very own tribute to the horrors of Halloween? Boxing and football have surely never had it so good. This is one sporting weekend when everything in the world seemed right and even Donald Trump seemed to be keeping a low profile. It doesn't get any better.
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