Michael Carbajal

Cuba's Leonardo Martinez was declared the winner over Teven George when Dr. Joe Perlman of Waco, Tex., stopped the bout after George was thumbed in the left eye in the second round, capping Cuba's 9-1 mastery over the United States Saturday. The two boxers were tied on the judges' cards when Martinez thumbed George in the eye, closing it. The bout was stopped 36 seconds into the second round. Martinez had dislocated his right shoulder halfway through the first round.

Michael Carbajal, a former world flyweight champion who launched a comeback after retiring in 1997, will headline a boxing program at Reseda Country Club on Dec. 17. Carbajal, 31, a former Olympian and five-time world champion, will fight an opponent to be determined in a 10-round main event. Carbajal is 45-4 with 30 knockouts. A 10-round lightweight co-main event between Kevin Kelley and Cocas Ramirez also is scheduled.

During the summer of 1987, at the Pan American Games in Indianapolis, an American boxing team was getting its brains beaten out every day by an outstanding Cuban team. The exception was one American boxer, Michael Carbajal, the team's 106-pound light-flyweight from Phoenix. Carbajal started by beating a Cuban and was rolling toward what seemed a certain gold medal. Then, in the gold-medal match against Puerto Rican Luis Rolon, Carbajal was unexpectedly flat and listless. He lost a decision.

For Michael Carbajal, the tumble began, as fighters' tumbles almost always do, with a loss in the ring. Carbajal admits he never imagined losing to Humberto (Chiquita) Gonzalez or anybody else, and it's a surer bet he never contemplated the skidding his career would take from there. Last February at the Forum, Carbajal was confused by, then beaten by, Gonzalez's stuttering in-and-out attack during their highly anticipated rematch.

It was over, no doubt about it. Michael Carbajal, eyes staring nowhere and legs dead, twisted sideways into the ring ropes, then crashed to the canvas. His ponytail was matted to his back, and his left arm swung between the second and third ropes, limply reaching for balance. After four blistering rounds of absorbing Humberto (Chiquita) Gonzalez's hammering, Carbajal had to be finished 15 seconds into the fifth, and Gonzalez and everybody else watching the fight at the Las Vegas Hilton knew it.

Michael Carbajal, who today becomes the first 1988 U.S. Olympic team boxer to fight for a world pro championship, was talking about his old neighborhood. Carbajal's neighborhood, 10 minutes from the gleaming office towers of downtown Phoenix, is an area of boarded-up homes, broken bottles and beer cans in the streets, and wrecked cars parked on weed-filled front yards. Carbajal, 22, grew up here. Now he is successful and makes lots of money. Scottsdale here we come, right? No. He is staying.

When boxer Tony "Bazooka" DeLuca was asked by his manager, Rob DePhillipis, whether he'd like a shot at former Olympic Silver medalist Michael Carbajal, it didn't take him long to say yes. "I'd go to hell to fight the devil if they told me to," DeLuca said. DeLuca won't have to travel quite that far to fight Carbajal. The bout will take place Sunday in Phoenix at the 4,000--seat Phoenix Civic Plaza--some 300 miles away.

Michael Carbajal retained his International Boxing Federation light flyweight title with a unanimous 12-round decision over Mexico's Javier Varquez in Las Vegas.

Michael Carbajal, IBF junior flyweight champion, withdrew from the undercard of the Larry Holmes-Evander Holyfield heavyweight bout in Las Vegas on June 19 because of an injured right hand.

Julio Cesar Borboa, who emerged from obscurity last year to capture the International Boxing Federation super-flyweight championship, makes the sixth defense of his belt tonight at the Forum against undefeated challenger Harold Grey.

Were the past few days the opening shots of the last Don King-Bob Arum war? If so, the timing is devastatingly perfect. While the sport of boxing sags and wheezes toward box office irrelevance, its two most powerful, reviled and stubborn figures are reviving a feud that, by now, both know neither can win. And, by now, does anybody care? This, of course, is nothing new.

Finesse, not a free-for-all. Smarts, not heart. To the shock of almost everyone except Humberto (Chiquita) Gonzalez, the sequel to a slugfest began sleepily, developed subtly and was won with a demonstration of precision. Using a frustrating style and ignoring a deep gash that opened up in the early rounds over his left eye, Gonzalez avoided the all-out pace of his first fight against Michael Carbajal, and avoided Carbajal's jolting left hook in the process.

No retreats, few regrets, one rematch. Last March 13, Michael Carbajal arose from the canvas twice to score a seventh-round knockout of Humberto (Chiquita) Gonzalez. It was a battle of light-flyweight champions that scorched the Las Vegas Hilton ring and allowed Carbajal to retain his International Boxing Federation title and take the World Boxing Council version from Gonzalez. On a 5 p.m.

Two fighters, a combined 216 pounds, two motivations. They will meet in the ring Saturday night at the Forum, but Michael Carbajal, the International Boxing Federation and World Boxing Council light-flyweight champion, and Humberto (Chiquita) Gonzalez have had other struggles to face. Other fights.

It was over, no doubt about it. Michael Carbajal, eyes staring nowhere and legs dead, twisted sideways into the ring ropes, then crashed to the canvas. His ponytail was matted to his back, and his left arm swung between the second and third ropes, limply reaching for balance. After four blistering rounds of absorbing Humberto (Chiquita) Gonzalez's hammering, Carbajal had to be finished 15 seconds into the fifth, and Gonzalez and everybody else watching the fight at the Las Vegas Hilton knew it.

Eleven months have gone by. The grandly named rematch-- La Revancha Explosiva! --will be a week from Saturday at the Forum. It is a prizefight a lot of people have been waiting for, particularly the prizefighters themselves. Michael Carbajal has been waiting, and not simply because the prize he's getting for it is a million dollars. You don't ordinarily make a million for a fight when you weigh 108 pounds. But boxing is in dire need of a new face, a new star.

In boxing, the title rematch is rarely as good as the original. . . . But I am going out on a limb and predicting that the first Super Bowl rematch will be more exciting than the game between the Dallas Cowboys and the Buffalo Bills last January. . . . Before the inception of the Super Bowl, there were eight NFL and two AFL championship game rematches. . . . Decisions were reversed five of the 10 times. . . .