Malignaggi tells us why not

There's a reason Saturday's fight was in Houston, with its advantages of crowd, canvas, referee and judges. There's a reason Houston's Juan Diaz, 1-2 in his previous three fights, was the promotional A-side. There's a reason Brooklyn's Paulie Malignaggi had to make a first fight in the imaginary 138½ pound weight class.

Diaz sells tickets. Malignaggi does not.

But it's the why-not that's interesting. It's the why-not that stayed cleverly hidden behind 36 minutes of prizefighting. And it's the why-not that became so obvious immediately after Saturday's fight.

To explore the why-not, we begin here: Dealt a poor decision by pro-Malignaggi officials in Madison Square Garden, would Diaz ever have behaved the way Malignaggi did in Houston? That question addresses class.

Something Malignaggi showed plenty of for 12 rounds at Toyota Center. He moved and boxed well Saturday, but lost a unanimous decision two of the three judges called close. The third? We'll address that in a sec. The official result, though, had Diaz by scores of 115-113, 116-112 and 118-110.

My card had it a draw, 115-115. I gave rounds 1, 5, 9, 10 and 11 to Malignaggi. Diaz got 2, 4, 6, 7 and 12. The noncommittal part? I had rounds 3 and 8 even. Maybe I saw what I was looking for. After all, had you asked me to fill in my scorecard before the fight, I probably would have made it a draw.

Which is why I'm not upset judge Gale Van Hoy filled in his 118-110 card before the fight, too. What does bother me, though, is the waste of a great seat. Couldn't the Houston chapter of Make A Wish Foundation have put that stool to better use than Van Hoyle did?

Yes, it was that bad. Yes, Malignaggi had every right to be angry. Yes, Malignaggi told all and sundry it would happen. And yes, in some small way, that's probably part of the reason why it did happen.

That's the part Malignaggi doesn't understand. Texans are proud folks. Going into their state's largest city the week of a prizefight and doing a caricature of a Yankees fan (which, before the 2004 birth of Red Sox Nation, was about the most off-putting thing a person could be) is not the way to win friends or influence people -- at least not positively. Calling folks crooked doesn't straighten them out. It hardens them. And it turns neutral observers against you too.

Here's the worst part. In private Paulie Malignaggi is apparently a likable guy. More than a couple prizefighters have said off the record, "If you knew Paulie, you'd like him."

But no matter how accessible Malignaggi is, no more than 1,000 of Saturday's HBO viewers ever will know him. The Malignaggi we know is the guy we've seen wear performance-reducing braids in the ring, shove trainer Buddy McGirt after a stoppage loss, dress in be-tassled trunks that look ridiculous before they fall down, and fire post-fight invective at every official in the Lone Star State.

Give us a little credit, Paulie. We know questionable decisions happen and judges favor hometown fighters. But you should know this: Until the final five minutes of Saturday's broadcast, you were winning new fans.

Whenever he moved, Malignaggi made Diaz slow. The Houstonian plodded forward in the first round using a jab like a bat uses sonar. Diaz couldn't find Malignaggi despite getting peppered by his left fist. Malignaggi won the first round more decisively than either guy won any of the 11 that followed.

But in the second, Malignaggi stopped long enough for Diaz to wing left hooks. And those hooks took disproportionate scoring effect because the crowd reacted disproportionately to them. Some of that wasn't just Houston pride. Malignaggi's flying chin exaggerated the effect of his opponent's punches in a way to make Nassim Hamed blush.

The rounds Diaz won -- about half -- he won with four ingredients: Crowd noise, punch commitment, a tucked chin and no holding. Malignaggi is unable to excite crowds and ill-advised to fight from his heels, but he could do something about his high chin and unseemly willingness to clinch.

He also could have thrown a few uppercuts. They would have landed. Any punch that comes from below solves a volume puncher like Diaz. Why? Because an eager pressure fighter gets too much weight over his front foot. That's why Malignaggi's up-jab landed. It's also why a Houstonian named Foreman made such easy work of Joe Frazier.

That brings us to Saturday's greatest coincidence. The winner of its fight -- a guy who draws crowds and loves prizefighting -- probably ought to retire. And Saturday's loser -- a guy who claims to hate everything about boxing but its hourly wage -- ought to fight on.

Diaz just graduated from the University of Houston. He has lots of money and myriad better career choices than taking punches to the head -- especially since the front part of that head now cuts regularly. He's no longer as effective as he once was. Diaz is a young hurler whom the league's hitters have solved and whose best pitch no longer fools them. Whatever happens to Juan Manuel Marquez in his September fight with Floyd Mayweather, in other words, Diaz doesn't need that rematch.

Malignaggi, meanwhile, might have just had the best night of his career. He outboxed a legitimate former world champion. He fought in an entertaining way. He did most everything right till the 12th round when he allowed Diaz to outhustle him. But even that is forgivable.

His post-fight tantrum was not. It was high-strung, emotional and ultimately irritating. Malignaggi didn't even make a good villain, finally -- trying to court Houstonians after saying their entire state was on the take.

It's probably too late for Malignaggi to become a ticket-seller. But after the way he acquitted himself in Saturday's fight, he deserves another title shot. And we deserve to have him acquire some post-fight dignity before then.

Bart Barry can be reached at Twitter.com/bartbarry

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