The word “momentum” was mentioned a lot ahead of last night’s WBA super-featherweight title fight between Anthony Cacace, the challenger, and James "Jazza" Dickens, the champion. Before the first bell, it was a word used to describe the pair’s recent form and the fact that both men were thriving late in their respective careers. Then, during the fight itself, it was something the two fighters passed back and forth like an unwanted gift. One minute Dickens had it, the next it belonged to Cacace. By the fight’s end, they were desperate for it, believing a final jolt of momentum might be enough to sway the judges.
As it happened, Cacace saw more of it than Dickens, hence him winning a unanimous decision by scores of 115-113 and 116-112 (twice). He may have struggled getting hold of it early, when Dickens started the better, but the Irishman eventually got more than his fair share of momentum in the middle rounds, the majority of which he won without much argument. Even Dickens, who finished the bout strong, sensed he was letting his title slip away during its middle stretch. His corner warned him he was behind on the cards going into round 11 and Dickens, despite the look of surprise on his face when hearing the final decision, will have felt his momentum leave him last night in Dublin.
Until then, he had been having a fair old time, Dickens. In fact, since losing an IBO super-featherweight title against Hector Andres Sosa in 2023, the squat southpaw from Liverpool has won four on the bounce, including wins against Zelfa Barrett and the unbeaten Russian Albert Batyrgaziev, whom Dickens beat in July to claim the WBA belt. Dickens had, at the age of 34, come into his own. His five pro defeats – to Sosa, Kid Galahad (twice), Thomas Patrick Ward, and Guillermo Rigondeaux – were, it turns out, the making of him. From each of those experiences he took something and built on it and now, on the brink of turning 35, he found himself walking to a ring in Dublin as a world champion. Better yet, he was the kind of world champion to whom other contenders, perhaps with a defeat or two to their name, could look for inspiration. He was in that sense relatable; easy to get behind.
The same can be said for Cacace, too, whose journey to the top is not dissimilar. He, like Dickens, knows the pain of defeat – having lost to Martin J Ward in 2017 – and knows as well the importance of learning from a setback rather than letting it define or diminish you. In his case, that 2017 loss to Ward merely triggered a nine-fight winning streak – now 10 – which includes the scalps of Leigh Wood, Josh Warrington, and three unbeaten fighters: Joe Cordina, Michael Magnesi and Sam Bowen. That, for a man who would have been written off back in 2017, is not bad going at all. Moreover, Cacace won the IBF super-featherweight title from Cordina in 2024 and has since then been viewed the same way Dickens has been viewed: as a champion to admire, celebrate, and use as evidence whenever a fighter requires motivation.
Together, Dickens and Cacace have plenty of that – motivation. It works in tandem with momentum for the two of them and last night’s title fight in Dublin was proof of that. If anything, it meant more to Dickens and Cacace – the fight, the title on the line – than it would have done to most. After all, they know what it is to lose, and they know what it is to be written off, and they know what it is to toil domestically and fear there is nothing beyond that. World titles, of course, mean the world to anybody good enough to compete for them, but sometimes a world title means more to those boxers who appreciate that their chances to fight for one may be few and far between.
In this instance, Cacace, at 37, and Dickens, soon 35, will have accepted that their days – their prime days – are numbered. Even if they happen to be producing their best form now, which they are, both are experienced enough to know how this story ends, irrespective of their momentum and motivation.
That’s why their fight last night was so keenly contested and closer than the DAZN commentators would have you believe. These two weren’t just well matched, they were desperate – desperate to win, desperate to maintain their momentum – and while the fight itself was no classic, nor as action-packed as some had anticipated, it was intriguing nonetheless.
It started with Dickens doing some solid work hustling forward in his southpaw style and it ended with Dickens doing the same in round 12, only with a bit more urgency. In between, Cacace found his range with his right hand and often used that shot to discipline Dickens as he ducked down or rolled forward. Whenever he did, a roar from the Dublin crowd would ring out and Cacace, much the taller man, would grow in confidence. A left hook in round five, for example, led to Cacace pouring it on as Dickens tried staying close and low. They then stood and stared at one another on the bell to end the round. Dickens smiled through his gumshield. It was a smile of frustration.
Following the next round, the sixth, it was Cacace who smiled as they returned to their corners. However, just like Dickens in the previous round, that may have been a rueful smile rather than a satisfied one, for Cacace had failed in round six to build on the momentum he had built in the fifth.
Either way, Cacace was back in control in the seventh, a round in which he aimed his right hand more and more at Dickens’ chest and had plenty of success with that shot. His long arms, it seemed, allowed him to measure Dickens and keep him on the end of his punches and in this round in particular he used his physical advantages to good effect.
The same was then true of the eighth, by which point Cacace appeared confident standing in the middle of the ring and tagging Dickens with stiff counterpunches whenever he made a wrong move. Throwing mostly right hands, Cacace had decided to increase his output in this round having now properly settled and noticed how Dickens’ own output had dropped.
That said, Dickens, 36-6 (15 KOs), is never one to just fade, especially in a fight of such significance. In fact, rather than let Cacace have his momentum and his title, Dickens managed to rally impressively in round nine. This round started with a head clash, which Cacace complained about to no avail, and no sooner had their heads come together than Dickens wrestled back the momentum. The referee, Luis Pabon, seemingly had no interest in warning Dickens for his use of the head, so on he went, throwing both hands at Cacace, who was clearly disturbed by the slight cut above his right eye (the result of the head clash). This resurgence on the part of Dickens then continued into the 10th, which, although a round low on action, was one he probably won on account of a single overhand left he landed halfway through it.
As for the final two rounds, they were less decisive. Also, messier. Neither man appeared particularly tired by that stage – it hadn’t been that kind of fight – yet still they struggled to land anything of note, much less emphatic. Cacace, on the back foot, fought like someone who believed he was in the lead, while Dickens, chasing after him, fought like someone who had been told two rounds earlier that he was down on the scorecards. Together, they almost cancelled each other out in the end, and never was there any doubt that the three judges at ringside would be required to settle what they could not.
Both men, based on their body language in the aftermath, believed they had done enough to win. Yet both also knew, based on their history, not to take anything for granted or expect favours. Indeed, the fight was in many ways a microcosm of their respective careers. It was hard-fought, it featured numerous shifts in momentum, and the feeling of victory meant so much more due to not only what it had cost them, physically, but the element of doubt. “That shows that with a poor night at the office I can still win a world title,” said Cacace, now 25-1 (9 KOs), afterwards. “Jazza’s got a dodgy style. He’s a southpaw, he hit me with the head a lot, and I couldn’t commit. But I’m the new world champion. Let’s go.”
He means forward, of course. With his kind of momentum, it is only ever forward.
