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AS WE SEE IT
(The Ring, April 1923)
By Nat Fleischer
TIME TO ELIMINATE JUDGES
Twice within a period of six days American championships changed hands in the arena of Madison Square Garden, and twice a howl went up that almost raised the roof of this historic sporting center. The reason? Keen disappointment on the part of thousands of persons who on each occasion felt that the titleholder was unjustly deprived of his crown.
The Ring, unlike the Chairman of New York State Boxing Commission, who on both occasions was publicly quoted by Sid Mercer of the New York Evening Journal as having expressed an opinion the decision was a frank injustice to the champion, will not add to the turmoil by giving an official opinion on the winner of each bout.
Regardless of the merits of the decisions, however, The Ring feels duty-bound to offer a suggestion for the elimination of verdicts which are doing such tremendous damage to a sport otherwise healthy, for there is no telling what such decisions may lead to.
In the case of Frankie Genaro, one of the judges, Barnes by name, made a statement after the battle that he was through. He had awarded the bout to Pancho Villa, while Judge McPartland and Referee Andy Griffin has decided on Genaro.
In the of Harry Greb, a similar turmoil such as was in evidence at the Genaro-Villa fight, took place when the winner was announced
“I was jobbed!” yelled Greb.
“He fouled me throughout!” cried Tunney.
Just one more illustration that the system in vogue in the judging of bouts in New York City is all wrong. William Muldoon, chairman of the New York State Boxing Commission, issued a statement after the Tunney-Greb battle that the decision was unfair to Greb. The referee and judges were appointed by Muldoon and, right or wrong, we think he should have stood by them.
The question arises as to what constitutes a foul, according to the rules. Holding and hitting is a direct violation of the Walker Law, viz:
Sect. IV—Fouls.
1. Hitting below the belt.
2. Hitting an opponent who is down or getting up from being down.
3. Holding an opponent or deliberately maintaining a clinch.
4. Butting with the head or shoulder or using the knee.
5. Hitting with the inside or butt of the hand or using the elbow.
6. Holding an opponent with one hand and hitting with the other hand.
7. Hitting or "flicking" with the open glove.
8. Wrestling or roughing on the ropes.
9. The failure to obey the referee or any physical action which may injure a boxer except by fair sportsmantlike boxing.
Harry Greb in his battle with Tunney and every other in which he has taken part used the above tactics, as shown in Rule 6.
Patsey Haley warned the Pittsburgher at least a dozen times in each round, and like the good referee that he is, did not want to spoil a night’s sport for the fans who had paid their good money, so he simply penalized the offender for his unfair tactics, and at the end of the bout awarded the decision where he felt it belonged.
Now, to get back to Chairman Muldoon, who by his statement was embarrassed by the rest of the commission, whose members privately are credited with endorsing Referee Haley and Judge Meeghan. It must be taken into consideration that Mr. Muldoon’s opinion was his personal one. It seems only fair that as Haley and Meeghan are his appointees, they should not be criticized by their superior.
Haley, in the opinion of experts, is the most competent referee in America, while Meeghan is a former sporting editor and boxing critic of long experience.
There is at present in New York City, the greatest boxing center in the world, one radical and unpardonable flaw in the boxing game, a fault exclusively its own and not existent in any other form of athletics. This is the difficulty of arriving at a just verdict as to the merits of the contestants in bouts that do not end in a knockout.
At no affairs in recent years has this unfortunate phase of the sport come to the attention of the sport’s loving public, nor has it ever been better illustrated than in the unfortunate ending of the Tunney-Greb fight and the Villa-Genaro battle.
In both battles a hue and cry followed the crowning of Tunney as the American light heavyweight titleholder and the rise of Genaro to the American flyweight championship.
In either case there is no doubt there is no doubt that the public would have left the famous Garden arena cheering madly the verdict of a draw, which would have protected the crown wearers.
If the boxing game is to survive in New York State, a quick change in the personnel of the judges assigned to officiate at important bouts must be made.
Better still, let the State Boxing Commission change its rules to place the entire matter of judging in the hands of a referee and eliminate the judges. But, in our opinion, there are too many inefficient judges assigned to important contests, men who lack the ability to judge properly the points that bring victory to one and defeat to the other. Hence the suggestion be judges be eliminated.
The referee's standing depends upon his honesty and ability, and there are plenty of good referees in the State of New York whose honesty never can be questioned.
Let one man, a capable referee, perform the duty of picking the winner.
The game demands this change and the sooner the better.
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NAT FLEISCHER SAYS:
(The Ring, February 1938)
By Nat Fleischer
MANUFACTURE OF SYNTHETIC TITLES CONTINUES
There is no let-up in the synthetic manufacture of boxing titles. Despite the fact that Peter Kane of England is the legitimate world flyweight king by virtue of his victory over the American champion, Jackie Jurich, the California Boxing Commission has crowned Little Dado of the Philippines the world crown wearer following his ten-round victory over Small Montana.
Of course, no one who follows boxing closely will pay any attention to the claim of the new “champ.” But, by naming him, the California state board, like its New York colleagues, has added to the confusion created when the Empire State body refused to recognize Kane as title-holder.
It is a pitiful state of affairs when otherwise sensible sports writers fall in line with unknowing commissioners in accepting such absurd rulings as those that were recently made in the case of Kane, the vacating of John Henry Lewis’ title and other such silliness.
Wherein had Small Montana or Little Dado any right to a title claim? Do the California commissioners and the New York moguls forget that Small Montana lost his American crown to Jackie Jurich in a title bout on the Coast and that Jurich was knocked out by Kane, the leading European, in a bout recognized by the British Board of Control and the European bodies as for the world honors?
A world title bout it was, because Jurich, despite his knockout at the hands of Benny Lynch, who scaled far beyond the weight limit, according to the rules of the sport had won the flyweight crown on the scales—a proper procedure.
The best that can be claimed for Dado is that he is the California champion, just as Archibald is the New York State featherweight title-holder. Leo Rodak is the N.B.A. champion in the same class, Solly Krieger is the Washington State middleweight king, and Fred Apostoli is the New York State middleweight title-holder.
It is high time that boxing writers cut loose from the crazy-quilt rulings of errant boxing commissioners who don’t know the fundamentals of the sport over which they rule, and that they use better judgment in keeping the records straight. Calling a boxer a champion simply because he has been so dubbed by a commission, is the height of folly. Let’s get back to common sense.
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NAT FLEISCHER SAYS:
The Ring, September, 1948
By Nat Fleischer
LOUIS’ REIGN ONE LONG TO BE REMEMBERED
How does Joe Louis rate with the great men of his division of the past?
That is a query that has often been fired at me since Joe defeated Walcott and publicly announced his retirement. Whether he sticks to that decision, time alone will tell, though it is my opinion that he will fight again. But one thing stands out regardless of his future—he is still champion of the world and the best man not only of recent years but at present. There is no one in the heavyweight division who figures to beat him, old as he is and slow as he is. No other champion in all ring history has given so many contenders the opportunity to win the crown from the title holder and as such he at least holds a record—the greatest of all time. Until Joe, in writing, submits his resignation to the New York Commission and the N.B.A. he will retain the title he now holds.
Scan the Bomber’s record. Look over the list of the rated heavyweights from the time that Joe Louis whipped Jimmy Braddock to win the world crown to the present day and you’ll note that not a deserving contender failed to receive the chance of a fighter’s lifetime—to fight for the richest of all plums in boxing— the heavyweight crown Those whom he whipped the first time but in a manner that made the public feel the victim was entitled to another shot, promptly got it from Louis.
There’s nobody around who can whip the champion today and for that reason if for no other, Louis will make another defense of his title despite his previous statement. Uncle Mike Jacobs is Louis’ guide and what Mike requests, Louis will do. Mike thinks that Joe has made a mistake in announcing his ring retirement and I’ve been told by unimpeachable sources that Mike has pointed out to Louis that with nothing to fear so far as injury or defeat is concerned and plenty of cash available no matter who the opponent might be, Louis will be foolish not to change his mind. And change his mind, Joe will. Of that I’m certain. Joe will oblige because of two important reasons:
1—He loves the fight game and is an obliging guy.
2—He needs ready cash and nothing can get that for him more readily and easily than through a world heavyweight championship fight. Let’s see how wrong I am.
As for his all time rating, Joe Louis ranks high though not tops. No matter what one might say about the kind of opposition he faced, he still proved his right to a place among the first ten. He is the only heavyweight king who didn’t bar an opponent who met with public approval. In hitting power at least, he could have held his own with the likes of Jeffries, Fitzsimmons and Dempsey. In cleverness, he had his superiors but comparing his great record with that of any of his predecessors, none can deny him a place among the immortals of the roped square.
Louis has lent prestige and dignity to the heavyweight division. His punching power was the magnet that drew thousands into the stadiums and rolled up millions for the promoters. Whether he comes back for another title defense or keeps in retirement, his name will always be a bright spot in the history of boxing.
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NAT FLEISCHER SAYS
GANGLAND BRINGS NEW CRISIS IN AMERICAN BOXING
By Nat Fleischer
(The Ring, August 1959)
In the underworld, “blowing the whistle” is a heinous crime. Often it is punishable by death. That is the method pursued by gangsters when they are cornered.
“Never holler copper” is their slogan. It is their way of telling an honest citizen not to divulge any information that might jeopardize the cruel business transactions of the mobsters—or else.
That’s what the hoodlums, members of the notorious Frankie Carbo mobsters, recently told Jackie Leonard, Los Angeles boxing promoter, when he was about to squeal on Carbo and some of his followers who threatened him and Don Nesseth, manager of welterweight champion, Don Jordan, with bodily harm unless they turned over the fighter or permitted Carbo and Blinkv Palermo to “muscle” in on the management of the champion.
“We’re in on half,” Leonard and Nesseth testified before the California State Athletic Commission. When the demand for a part ownership of the fighter was turned down, the police testimony shows that a person who identified himself as Carbo said: “Nobody ever has done this to us. Somebody is going to get hurt.”
One of the police recordings contained the statement: “You’ll never know what hit you. Remember what happened to Ray Arcel.”
Yes, Leonard remembers. Arcel was hit over the head with a pipe wrapped in newspaper, and he suffered a fractured skull because he refused to listen to gangland’s threats to pay off part of his earnings for televising fights or get out of business.
Despite police protection, Leonard was badly injured in exactly the manner which that phone call predicted. He suffered a fractured skull, as did Arcel several years ago.
No more grateful news ever was received by the law abiding citizens in the boxing game than that the notorious Carbo has finally been apprehended and will face a court trial, which we hope and pray will put him behind bars for a long spell.
No man has done more ham to the sport than Carbo. None in all my long years of association with boxing has been more responsible for crime in boxing than Carbo.
He and his likes must be destroyed, like termites, if the sport is to regain the respect it had prior to the influx of the mobsters controlled by Mr. Gray, otherwise known as Frankie Carbo.
Our congratulations to both Nesseth and Leonard for having the “audacity” to expose the hoods, knowing as they did that it would be a most costly exposure, probably ending in permanent injury or even a fatality. The evildoers who have brought nothing but disgrace to boxing leave nothing undone to carry out their plans. The only way to remove their bad influence and restore public confidence in the sport is to place them in the clink.
That is a job for both local and the federal governments. Now that they have Carbo in their hands and several of the mobsters who have long been identified with the heroin trade and have had a hand in managing fighters, among them Gabriel Genovese, cousin of Mafia chieftain Vito Genovese who is serving a 15-years sentence on a narcotics charge, it will be a sad day for boxing if Carbo again beats the rap as he has done in several murder cases.
California has a fearless boxing commission and a chief investigator who has displayed no respect for gangland representatives. Licenses have been revoked and several unsavory characters have found that in California they are dealing with tough law enforcement agents Let’s hope that the intruders who black-jacked Jackie Leonard and threatened Don Nesseth, a quiet, soft-spoken, honest young businessman new to boxing, will be apprehended and dealt with accordingly
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Fleischer Speaks Out
(The Ring, May 1964)
By Nat Fleischer
SOMETHING TO PROVE
To Cassius Marcellus Clay, new heavyweight champion of the world, my congratulations. To Charles Sonny Liston, dethroned champion who was successful in only one defense, my condolences.
Sonny evidently got a tough break. But even if he had to quit boxing now, he would find himself opulently situated, with more money than he knows what to do with, enjoying the full fruits of his three big fights, two of them productive knockouts over Floyd Patterson.
When The Ring Magazine named Clay its Fighter of the Year for 1963, against counter choices from other directions, I had a premonition:
I knew that Cassius was destined to go far, that he was a Child of Destiny. I saw Clay in the 1960 Olympic Games at Rome and when he won the light heavyweight title predicted that he would be no less successful in his aspirations than Floyd Patterson, another Olympic hero, had been.
It is to be regretted that Liston, who went into the Miami Beach ring a 7-to-1 favorite, with a minimum of betting action, had to lose the championship sitting on his stool awaiting the seventh round, the gong for which he did not answer.
It is ring tradition that heavyweight champions, when bereft of the title, are carried out on their shields, unless, as in the Tunney case, retirement beats the deadly 10 to a career finish.
Only once before, at Toledo on July 4, 1919, had a heavyweight champion lost the title sitting on his stool in his corner. That man was Jess Willard.
Willard had to throw in a towel because he was trounced by Jack Dempsey’s punches.
Liston, on the other hand, presented a situation without parallel. He had to accept a TKO defeat because, he said, his left shoulder had been ripped in many fruitless swings at Clay.
And so it came about that the man who had been dubbed “The Lip,” the boxer whose boasts had subjected him to a certain modicum of derision, the poet laureate of the Sour Science, became the champion of the world!
When Liston stopped Patterson for the second time in the first round experts pronounced him one of the greatest hitters of all time.
The fight in Miami Beach ruined the image of Liston as invincible, indestructible, the Ne Plus Ultra of the roped arena.
That shoulder evidently prevented Liston from performing to full advantage. But he showed himself to be slow, and unable to solve the step around, feet and body shifting tactics of the new titleholder, who is at least 10 years his junior.
Let us leave with Liston his reputation for hitting, if you will. But let us not write him into ring history as a great boxer. That is quite definite, shoulder or no shoulder.
Clay went into the fight unheralded as a solid puncher. Joe Louis had said that no heavyweight who retreated from a punch, leaving himself off-balance, ever could be rated formidable.
But Clay cut Liston’s eyes, doing especially heavy damage to the left optic.
Clay ducked and dodged, and jabbed. He outpointed the injured Liston in the fight as far as it went.
Liston, at 218, was overweight. He was slow. He had done little roadwork and curtailed his boxing because he was over confident and he under-rated Cassius.
Clay was in splendid condition. No challenger ever was in better shape. Liston got slower, Clay kept stepping along.
Eventually there will be another fight between them. Perhaps Liston will make himself the second man to regain the heavyweight title. Patterson, against Ingemar Johansson, was the first.
But, in the meantime, Clay is the champion. He will carry the title into the Army. He stands out as the titleholder without a history of dubious connections, the Negro’s epitome of Freedom Day.
How badly did Liston hurt his left shoulder? Only Liston himself knows.
The fact remains that the movies show he put out 248 punches with his left.
He delivered 159 jabs and 89 left hooks in six rounds.
I do not like the charge that Liston is a member of the group that promoted the fight.
I do not like the revelation that Clay got $50,000 from this group for a promise to defend the title under its direction.
I do not like a situation that opens the mouths of detractors with charges of syndicate boxing.
How good is Clay? That is yet to be determined.
How good is Liston? Oddly enough, that also has yet to be determined.
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NAT FLEISCHER SPEAKS OUT
CLAY DEFINITELY NOT AN ALL-TIME GREAT
(Ring, June 1970)
By Nat Fleischer
I am delighted to welcome Joe Frazier to the ranks of the heavyweight champions of the glove era, starting with Jim Corbett and his victory over John L. Sullivan in 1892.
I am delighted to find the heavyweight muddle settled, once and for all.
I am glad that The Ring has been relieved of the burden of carrying Cassius Clay along as the world champion, despite his refusal to recognize the call of the draft.
I am not backing down on The Ring’s support of Clay and its insistence that he be granted his day in court. But he announced his retirement as a professional boxer. The Ring finally took him at his word.
Then came Frazier with his knockout victory over Jimmy Ellis, and, at long last, the position of world champion became definite, in favor of the Olympian.
Frazier’s acquisition of the world title should prove a strong impetus to boxing not only in the United States, but the world over.
As goes the heavyweight championship, so goes boxing. This has been true since the days of Sullivan.
Soon after Frazier had beaten Ellis there was a report that Clay was ready to recant on his retirement announcement, and that he wanted to fight Frazier in Canada, if the
Federal authorities would give him a 24-hour permit to leave the country.
It appears that nothing has come of this effort by Clay, or persons associated with Clay.
Clay had done nothing for the Selective Service and there was no reason for Selective Service to do him a $500,000 favor.
As Cassius Clay fades into the past as a heavyweight champion of the world, he stands out, in my opinion, as the most misguided and ill-advised holder of the title in the long annals of boxing.
Jack Johnson got into a lot of trouble, some of it of his own making, most of it developed by racists who hounded him.
Clay, on the other hand, produced all of his troubles by his lonesome.
Nobody pursued Clay with trouble. He kept producing trouble by and for himself, starting with his alliance with the Black Muslims.
In aligning himself with the Muslims, Clay became a vehement racist himself. His utterances left no doubt about that.
How great a fighter was Cassius Clay the world champion? The answer to that query runs the gamut of fistic opinion. Let us say that when he refused to accept the draft he was in the process of development.
Had he gone on fighting he might have developed into one of the Top 10 of all time.
On the basis of his showings through the knockout victory over Zora Folley, Cassius did not rate inclusion in my top 10.
Would Cassius beat Frazier if they were to meet in the early future?
I would have to take that question under advisement.
No matter what Clay’s state of development had reached when he stopped Folley, the fact remains that he was a major factor in saving boxing.
The game had dropped into the innocuous doldrums. Sonny Liston’s two fast knockouts of Floyd Patterson had dropped heavyweight boxing into a rancid state, instead of fervor.
There was no international enthusiasm for Liston. New York did not like the people with whom he had been associating and would give him no license to fight. There were other areas in which Charley was persona non grata.
The man who had stopped Patterson twice inside three minutes was stopped by Clay in Miami Beach and then at Lewiston, Maine.
There were rumblings of trouble. Cassius was said to be having business with the Black Muslims, and that was not calculated to be in the best interests of the champion, or world boxing. Eventually the Muslim interest came out into the open.
It appeared that boxing was destined to be hounded by trouble of one sort or another.
The hoodlums appeared to have been chased out of the ring. But Clay developed a new type of frustration for the friends of boxing and the heavyweight championship.
Eventually Clay, refusing the draft, found himself in the Federal courts. Ultimately, in the Supreme Court. He was a lay preacher for the Muslims, he insisted, and not subject to Selective Service. He was a conscientious objector, Cassius told the courts, and free from service in the armed forces.
Thus boxing found itself with a heavyweight champion who would fight in the roped arena for rich gravy but would not serve his country at a GI’s pay.
Clay’s case still is in the courts. Some day the Supreme Court will come forth with that decision for which the Ring waited so long. Some day, Cassius will go to jail or he will go free of legal blemish. Perhaps peace will come before the court reaches his appeal.
But it no longer matters in regard to the heavyweight championship of the world.
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PERSPECTIVE
(KO, November 1988)
By Steve Farhood
A PLACE IN HISTORY
Mike Tyson's "retirement," if the truth be known, was quite predictable. Forget burnout and lawsuits and meddlesome mothers-in-law and gossip-seeking reporters. Tyson quit boxing because he's petrified of Frank Bruno.
With that astute analysis completed, we can join the growing list of sportswriters and broadcasters who are assigning Tyson's place among the heavyweight gods. The youngest champion in the division's history—and the youngest champion to retire—is being mentioned in the same sentences with Dempsey, Louis, Marciano, and Ali. Amazing what a 91second knockout will do.
"I'd say Tyson is the greatest heavyweight I've seen to date," said Archie Moore, who's fought some of them and seen most of them.
"Tyson is the greatest heavyweight who ever drew on a glove," said respected ring historian Hank Kaplan.
Whoa, fellas, slow down! Granted, there is much evidence in Tyson's corner. With numbing two-fisted power, sensational hand speed, and a 20 1/2-inch shock absorber of a neck, he possesses dominant physical attributes. And with a title fight record of 8-0 with 6 kayos, he's applied those attributes splendidly. But there are three solid reasons why I won't even begin to rate Tyson with the heavyweight greats:
1. Longevity: Dempsey held the crown more than seven years, though he got married almost as often as he defended it. Louis was champion a record 12 years, Marciano almost four years, and Ali a total of 10 years. Tyson has been unified titlist for just one year.
Before his death in March, Jimmy Jacobs, Tyson's co-manager and a noted boxing historian, said that comparing the heavyweight to "the great, legendary champions is silly. We'll have to wait a decade to find out."
If Jacobs were still in Tyson's corner, he'd remind us that greatness cannot be secured until the test of time is passed. Tyson isn't a one-day wonder, and in fantasy matchups, where conjecture is required, I'd pick him against Dempsey, Louis, and Marciano (but not Ali). But let's keep his young career in perspective. Looking solely at the calendar, he's still more Sonny Liston than Joe Louis.
2. Lack of tough fights: This gets tricky, because it's not Tyson's fault that he's overwhelmed almost all of his opponents. We can't fault him for never having to recover from a knockdown, a dangerous cut, or a points deficit. Still, it's a safe bet that he won't cruise through his career without a scary moment or two. And such moments reveal so much. Consider:
•Dempsey rebounded from a humbling first-round kayo loss to Fireman Jim Flynn in 1917, and recovered from a first-round knockdown against Luis Firpo in a 1923 title defense to stop the Argentine in the very next round.
•Louis blew out Max Schmeling in a single round only two years after being kayoed by the German, and came from behind to stop Billy Conn in his most demanding defense.
•Marciano solved the puzzle of Jersey Joe Walcott with a single right cross in the 13th round after trailing on all three cards, and crushed Ezzard Charles in the eighth round of a defense in which Rocky's nose was ripped open so hideously that most ringsiders believed the bout would be halted.
•Like Tyson, Ali was far superior to his first group of title challengers. But more revealing than the eight victories of Ali's first reign was his rise from the canvas in the 15th round to finish on his feet in his loss to Joe Frazier. Two years later, he boxed 12 rounds with a broken jaw against Ken Norton.
•Mike Tyson's scary moments haven't been that scary. He tired in the stretch of his closest bout, a round decision over James Tillis. He was staggered in the first round by Tony Tucker and the last round by Bonecrusher Smith, but won both fights decisively. And the opponent perceived to be his toughest, Spinks, lasted less than a round.
How will Tyson react when extended? Probably quite positively. But until he feels threatened, we can't be sure. And history tells us that at some point, in some fight, he will feel threatened.
3. Tyson is ducking Frank Bruno: But we won't hold it against you, Mike. Ali never gave Chuck Wepner a rematch, either.
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MY BEST SHOT
By Nigel Collins
THE GREATER THE PRIZE
(KO, August 1996)
First it was the shocking revelations about Jerry and Mike Quarry, then Muhammad Ali’s sad appearance on 60 Minutes. The proof keeps piling up, the bitter truth slaps us in the face. This “sport” of ours maims. How, people ask, can society condone something that is capable of reducing even its most skilled practitioners to zombies?
The truth is that it’s not a question of what society will or will not condone. It’s about what men are willing to risk to improve their lot. And as a general rule, what they are willing to risk is in direct proportion to what they have to lose. And when they’ve got nothing to lose, boxing, with all its inherent dangers, can seem a very attractive alternative. It’s all a matter of perspective.
Most of us have never even gone to bed hungry, let alone endured the hardships described in a recent Associated Press article by David Guttenfelder, dateline Goma, Zaire. It is the tale of a group of Hutu refugees from neighboring Rwanda who have set up a patchwork boxing gym in the Munguna refugee camp.
When Rwanda’s horrific civil war erupted in 1994, thousand of Hutus streamed across the border, fleeing genocide in their homeland. Among them was Jean-Marie Ugiramahoro and his two younger brothers, all members of the Rwandan boxing team. They carried with them boxing gloves, a jump rope, two dumbbells, and some training clothes. These meager possessions formed the foundation of a dream, which they now share with other refugees trying to fight their way out of a desperate situation.
“Training in the morning makes us strong,” said Ugiramahoro, who is known in Mugunga as “Rwanyungi,” after a great hero of Rwandan mythology who woke each morning to conquer a king. “And in the afternoon, when we get hungry, we just train again to forget it.”
To these Hutu refugees, boxing is a sanctuary. To them, the rigors of the ring and the possibility of serious injury are nothing compared to the adversity they have endured and the horror they have seen. A left hook to the head pales in comparison to a machete to the neck. Even the hardest combination is nowhere near as deadly as a burst of machine gun fire.
We live in a time when the lesser of two evils is often the only choice. Many young men of the industrialized world are only marginally better off than their Third World counterparts. There’s a fine line between gang warfare and hate crimes in America and what the Hutus and Tutsis are doing to each other in Rwanda.
Yes, the world is a violent place, and that violence is bound to manifest itself one way or another. If it could be confined to the boxing ring, we’d all be better off.
True, boxing can exact a terrible toll, and it’s heartbreaking to see our beloved heroes irreparably damaged. But you don’t hear Ali or the Quarry brothers calling for an end to boxing. Maybe that’s because they know the same thing that Ugiramahoro and his ragtag band of boxers know—everything worthwhile has its price. And the greater the prize, the greater the cost.
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RYAN OUT LOUD
By Jeff Ryan
REQUIEM FOR A HEAVY WAIT
(Ring, April 2003)
Don King holds press conferences that last so long, the fighters whose bout he’s hyping sometimes go from being in their prime to being over the hill before he’s done talking. He stages fight cards that end so late, the ringside cocktail waitresses have stopped bringing drinks and begun taking breakfast orders. King’s a man who answers true/false questions with three-page essays and starts conversations like this: “Well, to make a short story long …” So it’s little wonder that his current heavyweight elimination tournament reflects his belief that the shortest distance between two points is a figure eight.
The advantage boxing has over just about every other sport is its freedom to create a Super Bowl, seventh game of the World Series, or Wimbledon final whenever it chooses. No lengthy regular seasons, postseasons, qualifying rounds, AP polls, brackets, or seedings are required, just two signatures on a contract and an arena with an open date. With this latest silly idea of his, however, King is trying to turn the heavyweight division into the National Hockey League playoffs.
As we went to press, Chris Byrd, he of the punch that lands with all the oomph of a paper airplane hitting a window curtain, was preparing to square off with Evander Holyfield, an ex-champ who’s so old, his prefight physical ought to include a mandatory test for Alzheimer’s disease. The guy who emerged from that meagerly awaited showdown for the vacant IBF crown was then scheduled to meet the winner of the other semifinal: a March 1 matchup of WBA heavyweight king John Ruiz and light heavyweight champion Roy Jones. And the eventual tournament winner would most likely be rewarded with a shot at real heavyweight champion Lennox Lewis. At least, that’s the plan.
It doesn’t even sound good on paper, so imagine how bad it is in reality. For starters, the real impetus for this snore-nament isn’t creating a worthy challenger for Lewis. It’s enabling King to gain more power in boxing’s most important division. The promoter reportedly paid Lewis (who wasn’t exactly begging for a fight with Byrd, a mandatory contender whose speed and head movement can make anyone look bad) a million bucks and gave him a Land Rover in exchange for his abdicating the IBF throne. If Ruiz, whom King has under contract, beats Jones, DK will control two-thirds of the alphabet crown.
All of that political stuff wouldn’t matter if the matchups were great, but that’s not the case, either. At the start of the tourney, we were faced with these possibilities for the final: Holyfield-Ruiz IV (enough already), Byrd-Ruiz (a clinch-a-thon), Byrd-Jones (imagine a fight in which nobody hit anybody), and Holyfield-Jones (battle of the Olympic robbery victims). Ali vs. Frazier vs. Foreman vs. Norton it ain’t.
Before he had even landed his first punch, elbow, or headbutt of the tourney, Holyfield declared that any loss he might suffer along the way wasn’t going to send him into retirement. “I want to leave as the undisputed champion,” he said. What “The Real Deal” failed to mention is that his brain cells may not be as willing to stick around as the rest of him is. Meanwhile, if Holyfield fighting too many more heavyweight bouts is a problem, the opposite is true of Jones. Should he defeat Ruiz, King’s whole tournament structure might collapse if Jones, who isn’t under contract to the promoter beyond the Ruiz bout, chooses to drop back down in weight. Jones, after all, has always spoken of his assault on the heavyweight division as a one-shot challenge and not a long-term strategy. And even if Jones did hang around long enough to win the tourney, does anyone believe he’d ever go up against the 245-pound Lewis?
Speaking of Lewis, he must have somehow convinced a whole bunch of people that his birth certificate is inaccurate and that he’s really not the 37-year-old we think he is. At a time when he should be squaring off with Wladimir Klitschko, he is choosing to instead tune up on Vitali Klitschko first. Wladimir will come soon thereafter, and then, we presume, the winner of the King tourney. And after that? Lewis will be admitted to the Sunnyvale Rest Home, handed his glass of prune juice, and informed that bingo is at 7 p.m.
What’s with all this stalling and wasting time? Byrd is deserving of a title shot, but if Lewis has developed an allergy to him, then the big guy should be defending against Wladimir Klitschko immediately, and Ruiz right after that. Lewis’ 2003 schedule and King’s tourney simply serve to make us wait even more impatiently for the few intriguing Lewis fights that are still out there.
What makes this whole farce of a tournament even worse is that, incredibly, Lewis is giving it his ringing endorsement. That’s right. At a time when he should be pounding his chest and declaring that he’s the only true heavyweight king, here he is sitting on the dais at the press conference and agreeing to provide color commentary for the paper-title bouts! Sure, it’s a chance for the Briton to make a buck, but can’t a guy who's already a multimillionaire put pride and principle ahead of a paycheck and avoid cheapening the status he has worked so hard to achieve?
One of the other unfortunate things about King’s latest consumer unfriendly offering is that it’s inspiring other nutty ideas. Oscar De La Hoya now envisions a 154-pound tournament, with the winner fighting him. He wants to pick four combatants from a pool that includes Vernon Forrest, Shane Mosley, Fernando Vargas, Winky Wright, Daniel Santos, and Javier Castillejo. (By the way, Golden Boy Promotions, De La Hoya’s company, would stage the bouts. So it’s no wonder why Oscar is keen on the idea and why he gets a bye in the first two rounds.) But that, too, is a titanic waste of time. Hey, Oscar, you want Forrest’s scalp? Just make a deal with his camp and fight him. We shouldn’t have to endure Forrest-Mosley III to get Forrest-De La Hoya I.
This isn’t the PGA. We don’t need one tournament after another. Especially not after listening to King hype his—and with a straight face no less. You do have to hand it to the guy with the funny hair, though. Only he can call something the World Heavyweight Championship Series and not have the real heavyweight champion compete in it. And if you think the official name of the tournament is silly, get a load of the tag line for it: “Hard Road to Glory …We Will Not Tire.”
Speak for yourselves, fellas. Speak for yourselves.
King with Ruiz, Holyfield, Lewis, and Byrd at press conference for the so-called “Road To Glory”
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