It became clear early on just how strong Brandon Figueroa’s control was in the paint. Despite being 5-foot-9, Figueroa was the more effective fighter at close quarters against the 5-foot-2 Ball, leaning into him and punching hard, forcing exchanges that Ball couldn’t slow down or reset. The height difference does not provide Ball with room to play. This allows Figueroa to crowd him and apply pressure in areas where Ball typically excels.

Cumulative penalties

This pattern continued to have an impact as the round progressed. Figueroa’s high-output style turned into steady attrition, similar to the approach he used against Choate Gonzalez, when he threw over 1,000 punches. He doesn’t need that much volume here. His throws and landings were enough to wear Ball down throughout the round, making the end feel like the end of a process rather than a sudden accident.

At the end, severe punishment is inevitable. After the first knockdown, Ball fell face down to the canvas and stayed there for several minutes, still enough to draw immediate attention. When action resumes, there is no recovery or regaining control

Figueroa steps in and unloads on a badly injured Ball, who doesn’t counter and barely defends, before knocking him down again, partially through the ropes. What is striking is not the violence of this sequence but the lack of resistance. The instinct that had always led Ball to closing deals was no longer visible.

Boxing statistics support why this concern exists. Ball threw 249 of 567 punches for a 43.9% hit rate, showing he still maintains accuracy and commitment. Figueroa threw 757 punches, 214 of which were successful, with an accuracy rate of only 28.3%, but the number of punches never decreased. He’s willing to absorb shots to keep pitching, believing the pressure and repetition will eat away at Ball over time. Over the course of twelve rounds, this approach made a difference.

After Ball lost the WBA featherweight title in the 12th round at Martha’s Bank Arena, Figueroa’s trainer Manny Robles criticized the referee, saying the referee was “counting to 100” and calling it a poor job. This frustration sounds less like a tactical complaint and more like disbelief at how much punishment was allowed to accumulate before the fight was stopped.

This reaction highlights a larger problem. Fighters can bounce back from knockouts. Even harder to recover from is the kind of sustained, close-quarter punishment that strips away reflexes, resistance, and agency before the end. Ball’s success has always been built on pressure, endurance and perseverance.

After a night like this, the question isn’t whether he can win another fight, but whether those traits still function in the same way, or whether the cost of absorbing so much damage permanently changes the fighter he can be.