Four months and change into 2008, fight fans have been treated to several much-anticipated bouts. We've seen Israel Vazquez go toe-to-toe for 12 rounds in his rubber match with Rafael Marquez, and Manny Pacquiao last the blood-stained distance in a second war with Rafael's brother, Juan Manuel Marquez.

Bernard Hopkins and Joe Calzaghe squared off in a pairing of future Hall of Famers that went to the judges' scorecards.

Just this past Saturday, Oscar De La Hoya prepped for his Sept. 20 second showdown with Floyd Mayweather Jr. by dominating Steve Forbes en route to a onesided unanimous decision.

What all of those fights lacked, however, was the emphatic punctuation that only comes with a knockout.

Maybe that's why ESPN took a nostalgic look at Mike Tyson last week with a two-part series that dwelled upon Tyson's too-brief reign of heavyweight terror. For all of his shortcomings, one thing that never was lacking whenever Tyson entered the ring was a sense of anticipation. Why? Because he pounded opponents into Silly Putty.

For as long as boxing has been around, no one has been able to definitively explain what constitutes a lights-out puncher. Some are tall and spindly, like Thomas Hearns; some, like Tyson and Joe Frazier, are squat and constructed like fire hydrants.

"I have no clue," longtime Philadelphia promoter J Russell Peltz said when asked whether any specific body build is an advantage to a fighter in the power department. "They come in all different shapes and sizes."

Mike Jones, the rising welterweight prospect from North Philadelphia, seems to fall more into Hearns' category than Tyson's. He's relatively tall for his weight class (5-11) and has the same seemingly fragile underpinnings as did "The Hitman."

"He's got those skinny legs, like a racehorse's," acknowledged Doc Nowicki, who, with Jim Williams, co-manages Jones.

Those pipe-cleaner legs notwithstanding, there is a buzz that gets just a bit louder every time lean, mean, punching machine Jones gives another opponent a 10-second nap. Friday's expected full house at the New Alhambra will be in full cry should Jones (13-0, 12 KOs) make it a short night against solid journeyman Gilbert Venegas (10-5-3, 7 KOs) in the scheduled eight-round main event.

Venegas, from Chicago, has been stopped only once, and that on cuts. He can whack a bit, too, which makes him the kind of hurdle Jones must clear if he is to continue his rise toward a world ranking and better-paying, higher-visibility bouts.

"While Jones is coming off a good win [an eight-round, unanimous decision over Germaine Sanders on March 28 in Salmanaca, N.Y.], it was a fight in which he looked vulnerable," Peltz said. "Some of his flaws were exposed.

"Now he's in with a rock-chinned guy who's going to come at him and who also can punch pretty well. Sanders is a slick veteran who knows how to fight but really doesn't have a lot of pop. Jones got clocked a few times in that fight. He can't afford to get hit like that Friday."

Jones was limited against Sanders because surgery on his left hand in early December prevented him from sparring until 3 1/2 weeks before the fight. But that's all right; he said he's "a little" relieved now that his knockout streak is over.

"Whenever you're knocking everybody out, there's an expectation that you always have to knock the next guy out, too," he said. "That pressure's gone now."

At least until the next streak begins.

Oscar nominee

An aging Leonard was so cocksure of his abilities that, even after long layoffs, he sometimes eschewed tuneup bouts to go directly to whichever opponent provided him with the most prestige and the fattest payday.

Time and inactivity tend to rob even the finest fighters of their skills, which is why I applaud De La Hoya - a 17-1 favorite - for conducting the equivalent of a full-dress rehearsal Saturday night in Carson, Calif.

In winning a 12-round, unanimous decision, De La Hoya (39-5, 30 KOs) got in some needed work against the capable but nonthreatening likes of Steve Forbes (33-6, 9 KOs) as a prelude to a megabucks rematch with Floyd Mayweather Jr. (39-0, 25 KOs) in September.

"You have to come back to get the rust out," said De La Hoya, 35, whose last fight was a split-decision loss to Mayweather on May 5, 2007. "That whole year layoff . . . it really takes a toll."

Once-a-year fighters, even legendary ones, can't expect to maintain any degree of sharpness. Beginning in 2002, the "Golden Boy" has fought twice in a year only two times (2003 and '04), once a year three times (2002, '06 and '07), and not at all in 2005. His record in those fights was only 4-3.

No matter how much a fighter has accomplished, it's good sometimes to put ego aside and get busy.

"I don't feel like a champion because I'm not a champion," De La Hoya said of his decision to close his career with three fights in 2008, which would be his busiest year since he fought three times in 1999. "I had to get back to feeling like a contender again." *

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