Ron Kantowski says boxers will put on a show, but nothing short of fireworks will top last weekend’s bout

By Ron Kantowski

Friday, Aug. 1, 2008 | 2 a.m.

A bunch of years ago I bought tickets for an Allman Brothers concert at the Thomas & Mack Center. George Thorogood and the Destroyers opened the show and whipped the crowd into a frenzy. Then the Allmans came out and did a 20-minute version of “Whipping Post” that was classic. And yet it seemed to put the crowd to sleep.

That is why Zab Judah and Joshua Clottey need to outfit their boxing gloves with Roman candles before the other welterweight championship fight (IBF), at the Palms on Saturday night.

After the fireworks generated by Antonio Margarito and Miguel Cotto in the real welterweight championship bout at the MGM Grand last week, Judah and Clottey had better come with something special. Or their fight may wind up tied to the whipping post.

This is sort of like watching the Columbus Clippers take batting practice after the Yankees leave the field, test driving a Cavalier after riding to the Chevy dealership in a Corvette, watching the new Batman movie on a regular screen instead of an IMAX.

Taking that last analogy to the next level, maybe this fight will be like the movie Jokers. Nothing could match Heath Ledger’s, but Jack Nicholson’s wasn’t half bad.

Bob Arum of Top Rank says the welterweight division is the best thing going and the Judah vs. Clottey fight should be a scorcher.

Of course, he’s the promoter. You’d expect him to say that.

Though the welterweight division is the best thing going, there’s a difference between a scorcher and burning down the house, which is what Margarito and Cotto did last weekend. They’re probably just now mopping up the last of the blood that was spilled. As for the sweat and the tears wept by HBO’s Jim Lampley and Cotto’s little boy, that’s probably gonna take a couple of more days.

Yet Judah vs. Clottey isn’t a bad fight. It’s not Curly of the Three Stooges milking cows at the county fair as K.O. Bossy. Or James Toney milking what’s left of his career.

For starters, the Brooklyn-born Judah has been in 15 world title bouts. And Clottey? Well, he did what Cotto couldn’t do last week. He went the distance against Margarito in December 2006.

That was the night the Tijuana Tornado touched down 1,675 times. That was the number of punches Margarito threw, a CompuBox record. Clottey withstood every one.

“I pounded on him, then hurt my right hand, then my left,” said Clottey, who was born in Ghana. “I was hurt but I refused to quit. I went the full 12 rounds.”

Clottey also was the last guy Diego Corrales fought before the latter had a few drinks, lost control of his speeding motorcycle on Fort Apache Road in southwest Las Vegas and killed himself. Clottey won.

Bring on K.O. Bossy, says Clottey, who promised to “destroy Judah way worse than how Cotto did it last year” when Judah ran out of gas late (as he tends to do) and suffered an 11th-round TKO.

Apparently, the mutual respect club that Cotto and Margarito started last week isn’t accepting new members.

Clottey, who has been fighting out of the Bronx, grew up a member of the Ga, a tribe in Ghana. The Ga are said to love music, drumming and dancing. The last two describe the style of its boxers. Former world champions Azumah Nelson and Ike Quartey were Ga. So was another pretty good fighter named Ben Tackie.

Perhaps that’s why most boxing experts think Clottey will emerge victorious in this battle of 30-year-olds. Maybe they’ve seen those National Geographic specials, too. And Judah’s recent record. Although there’s no substitute for experience in world title fights, Judah hasn’t won one of those since gas was $2.25 a gallon.

Margarito held the IBF belt these two will be fighting for before vacating it so he could beat up on Cotto and become a star. He’ll be sitting at ringside, but Jim Lampley won’t. HBO is sending Bob Papa in his place, which should tell you something about the magnitude of this fight, at least compared with last week’s.

But a few weeks ago I stumbled onto one of those ESPN Friday night bouts featuring a couple of journeymen heavyweights, neither of whom was named James Toney. Left hook, right hook, combination, uppercut ... these two hit each other with everything they had.

I looked it up: It was Horace Ray Grant vs. Kevin Burnett. But their names didn’t really matter because they had brought the Roman candles.