Josh Warrington vs Carl Frampton result: IBF champion retains title in fight of the year contender
Leeds fighter Warrington will never be underestimated again after producing one of the greatest performances witnessed in the featherweight division
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.Hell hath no fury like a boxer scorned. Josh Warrington, still the IBF featherweight champion of the world after this sensational title fight, may have spent much of the past week dutifully parading his bright red belt in stadiums, gyms and shopping malls, but it has long had to jostle for space with the not insignificant chip on his shoulder. Because, although it was Warrington who provided the bauble for this pre-Christmas cracker, Carl Frampton was the clear favourite with bookies and bettors alike.
Fortunately for Warrington, he has grown accustomed to playing the underdog. Staking his belt against Frampton’s career, Warrington boxed with a surging verve and vigour, negating his opponent’s world-class counter-punching skills in the only way he knows how: by launching an all-out land offensive.
The clear aggressor from the first round onward, Warrington produced a statement performance to first stun and then subdue Frampton, whose storied career now hangs in the balance. If this really is the Irishman’s curtain call, then his final bout will forever live in the memory. A fight of the year contender, Warrington was awarded a unanimous decision by two scores of 116-112 and one of 116-113, in the first defence of his world title he won when he beat Lee Selby earlier this year.
As the verdict was announced, Warrington’s loud and loyal claque exulted in their shared triumph. Their celebrations will extend raucously through the Christmas period, all the way until the new year, which could yet prove to be Warrington’s finest in the sport. Léo Santa Cruz, Gary Russell Jr. and Óscar Valdez all loom alluringly on the horizon. The division heaves with world-class talent.
“It takes two to make a fight like that and I have always been a fan of his — I still am now,” Warrington said in the ring afterwards, with a palpable throb of respect. “I want to keep what he said to me after the fight personal. But one thing he did say is good luck going forward and I hope you unify the division.”
Only in the brutal sport of boxing could a 31-year-old man so tantalisingly close to his physical prime taste defeat in such fashion. Frampton’s plan was to rely, quite sensibly, on the counter-punching prowess that has taken him to the very summit of his profession, but as the rubbery Warrington began to dart in and out of his reach with impunity, he would perhaps have been better off exchanging his right glove for a riot shield. Warrington was just too dangerous at close quarters.
Stood sadly in the centre of the prize ring afterwards, Frampton was characteristically magnanimous. “Josh won the fight fair and square, absolutely. There are no excuses from me, I was in incredible shape and the better man won,” he said with a rueful smile, his professional record having slipped to 26-2. “I hope he goes on to great things and unifies the division. I was fit and strong but Josh was fitter and stronger.”
Retirement is obviously now a possibility, despite an immediate demand for a rematch. “I have a young family at home and I have been in the game a long time,” Frampton made sure to add. “I'll make no decisions now but I'll sit down with my team and discuss what's the next move.”
Frampton showed enough in this most demanding of fights to suggest that he still has a future in the sport should he want one. But he struggled with the unrelenting pace set by his rival after a subdued opening minute, during which Warrington indulged in the most cursory of scouting missions. A pair of menacing hooks lit the touch paper: the first one to catch Frampton drew an amused smirk, which the second wiped clean off. A small cut was opened up under Frampton’s eye and Warrington was away.
To watch Warrington’s lithe arms repeatedly shoot out into the smoke-rich air directly in front of him, pumping and punching like pistons, can give the impression that he is little more than a pressure boxer. Wrong — there is a method to the mania, each blow a careful predetermined act of aggression delivered at eye-watering pace. The only hope of truly appreciating each shot is to strangle the Sky Plus Box to half-speed.
The next onslaught was not far away. Frampton’s first meaningful success came with a well-timed counter in the second but Warrington saw it merely as an invitation to press forward. First a blur of leather on the ropes, where Warrington trapped his man only for him to neatly sidestep away. Then the chase: Frampton forced to reach deep into his fighting instincts as Warrington’s stiff jab jumped roughly and repeatedly into his face.
Frampton’s legs buckled. But he held on. There was scarcely time to breathe.
Warrington was everywhere, spreading himself across the ring like a man three times his diminutive size, cutting off all of Frampton’s escape routes with the stifling intensity of an electrical fire. The rounds sluiced by in a blur of movement and, at some point, Frampton must have accepted with a sinking realisation that his rival had succeeded in making this his fight. A dogfight.
As the contest progressed there were shades of the old Frampton as Warrington finally — inevitably — began to tire. He boxed beautifully off the back foot for spells and, in a pulsating eighth, Frampton caught his rival with a left-right combination landed on the counter before gritting his teeth and slugging it out: the face that wore a smirk at the beginning of the fight was now contorted in a crimson-stained scowl. Yet still Warrington held firm in the pocket and fired back, trading blow for blow.
The exchange woke something in Frampton and set the precedent for a final round which laid bare the infallible heart and hunger of both men. Neither gave an inch — even despite a late clash of heads — and the fight ended in the exact same fashion as each of the rounds that preceded it: with a touch of the gloves and a warm — if disbelieving — smile. “I think I earned his respect as soon as I hit him but it was always about controlling the pace. I've always had self-belief and I've had it for a long time,” Warrington would later add.
“And hopefully people will really recognise what I am all about now.”
There is no hopefully about it. Never again will Warrington be made to feel an inferior opponent ahead of a fight of this magnitude. Never again will he find his cruel talents underestimated. And if he were to retire tomorrow it would not be his victory over Selby that he one day recollects when sat with pipe and slippers in his rocking chair, but this, the night he went toe to two with a two weight world champion and triumphed.
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments