Carmen Basilio's left eye was a swollen mess after the second fight with Sugar Ray Robinson, but Sugar Ray couldn't put Basilio down, Basilio had a chin made of granite.
Carmen Basilio had some other great fights as well, he fought the great Billy Graham, a master boxer that was never knocked down in 126 fights, Art Aragon, the original "Golden Boy", and he fought the iron chinned Kid Gavilan, Gavilan was only knocked down twice in 143 fights, once by the murderous punching Ike Williams and once by Carmen Basilio.
Carmen Basilio Knocks down Kid Gavilan with a left hook
One last word about Carmen Basilio, he's one of my top favorite fighters of all-time, the guy was hard as nails, you couldn't break him. Basilio quickly established his relentlessly brawling, slugging style that was to become his signature, while fighting his adversaries. Never a stylish dancer or a deliberate tactician like fellow rivals Sugar Ray Robinson and Johnny Saxton, Carmen was a seemingly indestructible close-quarters puncher, who was impossible to intimidate and very nearly impossible to hurt. Basilio was not a tremendous puncher like Utah-born world middleweight champion (and also rival) Gene Fullmer, but Carmen’s perpetual attack of crowding out his opponents on the inside of exchanges made Basilio very successful in the boxing ring. Basilio’s enemies were never given time to rest from Carmen’s wicked, non-stop rushes. Basilio’s punches were solid and crisp, although they were not typically combustible. He wore his opponents down through both the cumulative effects of his endless punching and his superlative durability. To put it simple, he was a monster, guys today are damn lucky they don't have to face this guy.
Frankie "the surgeon" Randall, another one of my favorites, he was the first man in history to beat the legendary Julio Cesar Chavez, who had a record of 89-0 at the time. Frankie Randall was also the first man in history to floor Chavez. Frankie Randall was a superb ring technician, he's nicknamed "the surgeon" because he operated on his opponents like a surgeon in the ring, the way he dissected them, beautiful pure boxing. His career was sidetracked due to drugs, but man could he fight.
'I Love My Job': The story of Frankie Randall
3-time world boxing champion and Morristown native Frankie Randall lived a life full of tragedy and triumph.
Known to the boxing world as "The Surgeon," Frankie Randall dedicated his life to the sport. From humble beginnings in Morristown, Tennessee, Randall went on to gain a multitude of championships and worldwide fame. With a career spanning more than three decades, Frankie Randall was a man who truly lived by his credo: "I love my job."
EARLY LIFE / AMATEUR CAREER
“My dad was born in Birmingham, Alabama. One of five siblings," said Frankie Randall's son DaMarcus. "My dad came from nothing, so he didn't really have a lot. His family didn't have a lot. My great aunt lived in Morristown, and he got sent to live with her when he was around eight, nine years old."
Frankie Randall grew up down the street from the Talley Ward recreation center in Morristown and would go every day to play ping-pong. Occasionally, he would peek into the boxing gym. He was noticed by Talley Ward boxer Matt Snowden who convinced him to be a part of the boxing team.
“We picked him up three days a week to go to boxing practice and he was quick and fast, and I could see he was going to be a heck of a fighter,” Snowden said.
The Talley Ward team was headed by Coach Dick King, and under the tutelage of King, Frankie began his amateur career at the age of nine. It wasn’t the start the new duo was hoping for. According to King, Frankie “got whipped in his first four or five fights,” and after every loss, Randall cried, quit, then came back.
Randall’s perseverance paid off and his fledgling career began to gain traction. After a few years of climbing the amateur ranks, the young fighter dropped out of school and decided to fully dedicate himself to the sweet science.
Randall would frequently fight at the Golden Gloves Arena in Knoxville where he caught the attention of fellow Southern Golden Gloves fighter Barry Audia.
“Army had this boy, and the minute he comes in the door at The Golden Gloves Arena down there, he's running that mouth. 'I'm bad news for all 132’s.' I think, ‘132? That's Frankie Randall. Oh, I'm gonna love this.’ He came in their showboating and Frankie's just taking his time and the boy probably won the first round. Second round, Frankie hit him with two straight right hands dead on the chin. He fell like a sack of potatoes,” Audia said.
From losing his first five fights, Frankie went on to win five Southern Golden Gloves titles. In 1980, he found himself in the finals of the Olympic Trials tournament.
His opponent for the gold medal match was Joe Manley from the famed Kronk Gym in Detroit. A program known for its top-class opposition.
Frankie was hanging tough through the first two rounds of the finals, but in the third, a left-right combination from Manley floored Randall. He was able to beat the count and see the final bell, but the victory went to Joe Manley.
Randall settled for the silver but went home knowing he had a bright future in the sport. Frankie Randall finished his impressive amateur career in 1982 with a record of 220 wins and 16 losses.
EARLY PRO CAREER
On February 4, 1983, Randall began his professional campaign at the Knoxville Golden Gloves Arena against another debuting boxer, Curtis Gholston from Kentucky.
The 450 people in attendance witnessed the Morristown native deliver an impressive three knockdowns. The final one came from a crushing straight right that knocked Gholston out in the second round.
With his first fight in the professional ranks in the books, Frankie Randall was off to the races in his prize-fighting career.
Two years later, Randall found himself with an impressive record of 23-0 and had garnered the nickname of "The Surgeon."
“When he was in the ring, it was like an operation. The way he operated in the ring, it was pretty classical,” DaMarcus said.
With his perfect record, Frankie was in range for a world title fight. Standing in his way was number one ranked and former world champion, Edwin Rosario.
Defeating Rosario would put Frankie in line for a championship match, and he wasn’t going to let the pressure of fighting a former world champion get to him.
“It won't change my style any at all. It won’t change my attitude. He used to be a champion. So, I'm willing to get in there and perform to my best," Randall said.
Frankie came out strong to start out the 10-rounder, but Rosario took over down the stretch.
After a tough 8th round, Randall was able to make it back to his corner and finish the fight. The fight was scored 98 and a half to 98 in favor of Rosario.
Half of a point. That was all it took to stop the undefeated run of Frankie Randall. His record now stood at 23-1. His world title aspirations paused.
It would be three and a half months before Randall stepped into the ring again. He dispatched Keith Jackson in the fourth round at Talley Ward in October 1985. Two months later, he would do the same to Efrain Nieves in the second.
Things seemed to be going well for Randall’s comeback. His previous two victories ranked him in the top 15 in the world, but an incident in February of 1986 threatened to put Frankie’s career on hold.
Frankie was approached by an undercover narcotics agent posing as a local businessman who asked him to deliver some marijuana. Randall agreed. Frankie Randall was arrested for the sale of half an ounce of marijuana to an undercover police officer in Morristown. If convicted, he faced a year in jail. Randall was released on a $5,000 bond and pleaded guilty to two simple possession charges.
Presiding over Frankie’s case was Judge Eddie Beckner, a member of the board of directors of the Morristown Boy’s Club. During the proceedings, Beckner told Randall, ‘All the little boys that looked up to you, you’ve let them down.’
The judge fined Randall $2,000, confiscated his vehicle, ordered him to speak about drug abuse at local high schools, and hold a fight where the proceeds would benefit the Boy’s Club.
In lieu of the proposed 11-month 29-day sentence, Randall served only two months, with the remainder of the time spent on probation and training for the benefit fight.
When asked about his leniency on Randall, Beckner responded, “I’ve been on the bench 10 years, and that boy expressed as much remorse for his wrongdoing as anybody I’ve seen. The circumstances of his life as well as his obvious remorse for his wrongdoing were such that I doubt he’ll be a repeat offender.”
Randall’s benefit fight was on May 30th, 1986, against the formidable Sammy Fuentes.
The bout was a swift affair.
A straight right from Randall in the second round sent Fuentes crashing to the canvas, knocking him out. After the fight, Frankie gave a special shout-out to Judge Beckner.
“I’d like to say hello to everybody in Morristown, Tennessee for being behind me, standing beside me and giving me myself back and like say, happy birthday to Judge Beckner in Morristown,” Randall said.
With the second-round knockout of Fuentes, Frankie’s career was back on track, and he soon found himself with the opportunity to put some national gold around his waist.
The opponent standing across the ring from Randall for his U.S.B.A. Lightweight championship fight was Freddie Pendleton, whom Randall had defeated the year prior after cuts on Pendleton’s head caused the fight to be stopped.
After the full 12 rounds, the outcome of Frankie Randall’s first professional title bout was left in the hands of the judges. The result was a draw, and Frankie was undeterred by the outcome.
“I put forward I think a great effort in the fight. It was a title fight, something I always wanted. I'm still here, I still think I’m the number one contender in the lightweight division. All the lightweights out there see my effort. I'm not running, I'm coming,” Randall said.
After his draw with Pendleton, Randall won five in a row and found himself ranked highly in all three major organizations. An opportunity at a world championship remained elusive for the Morristown fighter.
Another route to a championship match would be gaining the North American Boxing Federation title whose champion was automatically ranked very highly by the World Boxing Association. So, Frankie Randall once again found himself in contention for a national championship against Primo Ramos.
This bout was also a swift affair.
Ramos sent Randall slumping onto the canvas, and he was counted out with 30 seconds left in the second round. All of Frankie Randall’s world championship hopes crushed under the weight of a single left hook.
COMEBACK
Frankie Randall bounced back from his loss with a nine-fight win streak, but it seemed the spotlight had diminished on his once-promising career. His name now relegated mostly to the TV guide listings in the newspaper.
During the midst of his second comeback, Randall had another run-in with authorities. In August of 1989, Frankie Randall was found guilty on two counts of selling and delivering cocaine, once again to undercover officers.
He was given two ten-year sentences to run concurrently at Brushy Mountain State Penitentiary. In total, Frankie Randall spent 14 months behind bars.
“That's one thing about my mom that she didn't sugarcoat anything. She explained to me what was going on. Most parents would try to hide that, and my mother didn't do that. I always knew the truth. There was never 'Daddy’s gone away,' it was 'Daddy’s in prison,” DaMarcus said.
Frankie Randall’s time in prison not only cost him his championship ambitions, but according to him, it also cost him his home and marriage.
Frankie Randall was released from prison in October of 1990. Shortly before his stint at Brushy Mountain, his contractual interest was sold to Morristown doctor, Dan Hale.
“My brother contacted Dick King about buying his contract. Well, Dick was very easy to convince to sell the contract, and I think it was $26,000 that my brother paid for his contract. The problem was, he didn't tell him that Frankie was going to jail. So, Frankie was going to jail for about a year and a half and the contract ran out while he was in jail," said Don Hale, Frankie's former manager.
The Hale brothers knew they needed proper promotion if they were going to get Frankie a world title.
They visited with the likes of Joe Frazier and Gerry Cooney before finally signing with Don King, who promised Randall a world championship match if he could beat some name fighters.
After a few tune-up fights under Don King Promotions, Randall once again faced off with Edwin Rosario for the number one ranking in the junior welterweight division.
Frankie Randall vs. Edwin Rosario II would be part of the very first fight card to take place at The Pyramid in Memphis, Tennessee.
Early in the second round, a flurry of punches put Rosario down. It was a short-lived victory for Randall, because in the final ten seconds of the very same round, a right hand sent Frankie down this time. Resilient, Randall rose to beat the count and make it back to his corner.
The fight continued into the seventh when another flurry from Randall backed Rosario into a neutral corner. One of Rosario’s cornermen jumped into the ring, towel in hand, signaling the end of the fight. Randall and Snowell embraced, but the victory was more than redemption for Randall’s first professional loss.
“That's what got him to be number one across the board in order to fight Julio Cesar Chavez,” said Aaron Snowell, Frankie Randall's former trainer.
JULIO CESAR CHAVEZ I
51 fights. 48 wins. 11 years. That’s what it took for Frankie Randall to finally get his very first world title opportunity.
"He waited for a long time to get his title shot. He was one of those individuals that waited his time. He made some mistakes in life, and he came the hard way, but he stayed the course,” DaMarcus said.
Frankie Randall’s opponent was the WBC Light Welterweight Champion of the world and living legend Julio Cesar Chavez, who boasted an unheard-of professional record of 89 wins, zero losses, and a draw.
“Boxers were scared of him. I mean, that's just a fact. You know, when you have a record like that, and he was knocking people out, left and right. When Frankie signed to fight him, I knew Frankie was a good fighter, but I just didn't think Frankie could pull it off,” said former boxing promoter Thomas "Tank" Strickland
Frankie Randall came into the fight against Chavez as a 17-1 underdog, but the aura of Chavez didn’t faze Randall’s team.
“When you look at guys as a trainer, you can see certain skill sets that a person has. Teamwork makes the dream work and it's always about the team that you have. We just had a great team,” Snowell said.
Randall versus Chavez headlined the very first boxing card at the MGM Grand Garden Arena.
“Nobody gave Frankie a chance of winning that fight. You knew that Frankie was going to give Chavez all he can handle. If you look at the fight, you see how Chavez would continue to try to press Frankie. Frankie would come right back and score again. That's the way it was entire fight,” Hale said.
Frankie Randall made it into the championship rounds against the legendary Chavez, and most observers had him ahead on the scorecards. Nothing is ever certain in boxing and to pull off the victory, Snowell knew that Frankie would have to pull off something that had never been done before.
“We know, at some point in time to dethrone a great champion, we were going to have to knock them down,” Snowell said.
Studying tape from Chavez's draw with Pernell Whitaker, Snowell concocted a plan to set up Chavez to be hit with a straight right hand.
In the 11th round, just like they had trained for, Randall hit Chavez with a perfect one-two combination, knocking down the legendary Chavez for the first time in his career.
“To me that, that knockdown was more than just one punch. That knockdown was his whole life. That knockdown for him was defeating all the odds. Coming up in Birmingham, being moved away from your siblings, I think that knockdown represented who we are as a family,” DaMarcus said.
Chavez made it to the final bell, and the two warriors awaited the judges' decision.
"Frankie had laid his head backwards on my shoulder, and I was telling him that God’s going to bless you," Snowell said as the decision was announced.
“The winner and new champion, Frankie ‘The Surgeon’ Randall!”
Frankie Randal became the first man to defeat Julio Cesar Chavez and in doing so, captured the WBC Light Welterweight championship.
Frankie Randall christened the MGM Grand Garden Arena with one of the biggest upsets in boxing history.
“It’s like all these dreams have come true. I’ve been working hard for so long, and it all paid off. We worked hard at it, and we got it. We got the opportunity and I’m the champ now,” Randall said.
JULIO CESAR CHAVEZ II
The aftermath of the Chavez victory was tumultuous for Randall. Along with his newfound fame, six days after defeating Chavez, he married his long-time friend Janice and lost his father.
The rematch with Chavez loomed on the horizon, a mere 3 months after their first encounter.
The fight was set, on May 7th, 1994 at the MGM Grand Garden Arena. This time, DaMarcus would accompany his father to the match.
“You know, I would lead him out, I'd go back to the dressing room, get my composure, then I might have come out in the later rounds. He knew that I was anxious. So, even before the fights, he would always let me know he was okay,” DaMarcus said.
The rematch began as the first fight had ended: with Frankie getting the upper hand on Chavez.
“First of all, Frankie beat Chavez, more the second fight than he did the first fight. He was getting ready to knock Chavez out," Hale said.
By the end of the eighth, Randall and Chavez were still standing toe-to-toe and trading blows, and right before the bell, a clash of heads opened up a cut above Chavez's eye.
“The headbutt was crucial. If you look, when Julio butted heads, Julio was shaking his head, meaning if a fighter does that, that means they don't want to fight. They quit. Flip Hamansky, who was the doctor, had stepped up on the apron of the ring to look at him, and the rule in the WBC rulebook at the time says that the fighter that’s not bleeding on the butt, they get one point taken away,” Snowell said.
The fight was stopped on Hamansky’s recommendation due to the headbutt and went to the scorecards.
With the point deduction for the headbutt, Julio Cesar Chavez was declared the winner.
“I feel like the whole play of this whole ordeal was going based on Chavez, Chavez, Chavez. I was a champion in my heart, and in my spirit, I know that I’m still a champion. People saw the fight. I feel like I've done a very tremendous job. Right now, I want to take a vacation, let myself heal up. I went to my father's funeral. I got married and my father died on the same day. I need a break. I haven't had time to even be myself,” Randall said.
Randall vs. Chavez II was the final bout where the headbutt/point deduction rule was used by the World Boxing Council. Frankie Randall hoped to get a third fight with Chavez in the aftermath of their first two bouts, but it never materialized.
"The sad part is, Chavez was never ever going to fight Frankie again in their prime. King wouldn't let him at that point,” Hale said.
The next step for Randall was fighting for the WBA version of the world Light Welterweight championship on the undercard of Julio Cesar Chavez’s next fight. Frankie’s opponent was reigning champion and southpaw Juan Martin Coggi.
“Juan Martin Coggi, the great champion, he was champion over 6 years. Frankie had that chip on his shoulder everything to prove,” Snowell said.
The chip on Frankie’s shoulder proved useful as he would knock the long-reigning Coggi down three times in the fight en route to becoming a world champion twice in the same year.
Frankie Randall began 1994 in relative obscurity and closed out the year a two-time world champion, and had cemented himself as part of boxing’s elite.
DEMONS
Outside of the ring, Frankie Randall was a kind and generous man to those that knew him.
“Frankie would give a person a shirt off his back. When he rose to the top, he helped a lot of different people that were struggling in Tennessee, because he was once there," Snowell said.
However, Randall wasn't without his demons.
“Alcohol problems. Drug habits. Struggles with addiction. It's something that we're not proud of. If he was here, he wouldn't be proud of that," DaMarcus said.
It went as far as Frankie getting drunk the night before fights.
"The first time I knew anything about it, we were fighting in Monterrey, Mexico, and the number one contender was “Rocky” Rodney Moore out of Philadelphia," Hale recalled. "After the fight, I’m in the back and Fred Jenkins, who was Rodney Moore’s trainer, comes over and starts putting his finger in my chest and said, ‘Okay, Don, what you got him on?’ I said, ‘What are you talking about, Fred? We don't have him on anything.’ He said, 'Well, I know you do, because we saw him every night this week coming in drunk, and people would have to carry him into the hotel. Last night at five o'clock someone carried him in the hotel. He was so drunk he couldn't walk.’ That night he destroys Rodney Moore.”
DaMarcus believes what his father experienced during his early life contributed to his demons.
“Being a kid from Birmingham, five siblings, coming up in the 60s, not having a lot, in Alabama during segregation times, getting split up from the family, your mother gets buried, you don't get to go to the funeral. I think those are some of the things that haunted my dad the most," DaMarcus said.
There were times in Frankie's life when he tried to quell his demons, going through long stretches of sobriety in the process.
"We put him in drug rehab. Then he stayed with me, and for six months, he was clean. I was thrilled with what was happening. He was training. He was looking good, feeling good. Don (King) took him down to Florida to train. He went to a party with Hector Camacho, so the story goes, Hector said, ‘Frankie, let's go ride around.’ and there he was, gone again," Hale said.
Regardless of his life outside of the ring, between the ropes, Frankie was still a world champion.
After two successful title defenses, Randall found himself standing across the ring from Juan Martin Coggi once again.
"He was winning the fifth round, and there's a headbutt. No blood. Coggi sticks the glove up to his eye like he's hurt. He goes back to his corner. The corner is yelling in Spanish to go down. Coggi lays down and will not move, will not get up,” Hale said.
Coggi was eventually transported out of the arena on a stretcher. The fight went to the scorecards and due to a second-round knockdown by Coggi, he was declared the winner.
Frankie had once again lost his championship, but this time, he was granted a third fight with a man that defeated him under dubious circumstances.
“We had to go down to Buenos Aires to get the title, Juan Martin Coggi’s home country. In that fight their heads clash again and this time, Frankie fell out. The funny thing, I was saying ‘Frankie get up, you can't win like that.’ He stayed down there for a minute. He started winking his eye and got up, but we ended up capturing the title again down there," Snowell said.
Frankie “The Surgeon” Randall became a three-time world champion, but a mere week after regaining his title, was convicted of driving under the influence.
To make matters worse, his urine test for the third Coggi fight tested positive for numerous substances including cocaine, according to the Argentine Boxing Federation.
Despite his most recent setbacks, Frankie Randall kept his championship and would be defending his WBA light welterweight title in a homecoming of sorts at the brand-new Nashville Arena in January of 1997.
“The fight in Nashville, I don't think he was ready for it mentally, physically. He wasn’t training as hard. He was probably not living the best of lifestyles,” DaMarcus said.
Don Hale took Frankie and his wife out for dinner and made sure Frankie was back in his hotel room by 10 pm.
"I was told later that he left at 11 o'clock and came in stumbling drunk at five o'clock in the morning,” Hale said.
Randall's night out played a huge factor in his fight with Khalid Rahilou.
“I noticed that the end of the fifth round Frankie got caught with a few shots. In the 11th round, Frankie was still ahead on all three scorecards, and they stopped the fight because he was too tired to continue,” Hale said. “Once he lost the title, he lost a lot of desire at that point, and he started fighting for money.”
After his loss to Rahilou, Frankie took an 18-month sabbatical from the ring.
He returned in July 1998 and racked up two victories before dropping a 10-round decision to Oba Carr. That defeat began a seven-fight losing streak for Randall.
“When that's all you know, it wasn't about the wins and losses at that point, it was about survival. It was about making money. It was about getting a check. It was about using your craft. Because your craft used you,” DaMarcus said.
JULIO CESAR CHAVEZ III
By 2004, Frankie Randall had lost nine out of his last 12 fights and his former rival, Julio Cesar Chavez, was in the middle of a retirement tour.
“Jose' Sulaiman called me and told me he wanted Chavez to have a fight because Chavez was broke, too. He said ‘I want to have a fight where he can make some money’, and said, ‘I'll pay Frankie $100,000 to come fight him.’ So, we took the fight,” Hale said.
A decade after their first encounters, Frankie Randall finally got his third match with Julio Cesar Chavez. No championships were on the line, only pride.
“Frankie trained for the fight. Nothing like what he did before, but I mean, he was in decent shape compared to what it had been, and we knew fighting Chavez in Mexico you know, winning the fight probably wasn't an option at that point,” Hale said.
Frankie’s team would look a bit different for the rubber match with Chavez. His son DaMarcus would act as a cornerman and would help his father down the stretch after a particularly brutal low blow.
“Don Hale looked at me and he's like, 'He's about to quit,' and me personally, I couldn't let him do that. So, I got up in the ring. I worked his corner. I told him, it's just me and you. Whatever you do, don't quit. Keep going, finish the fight. I could tell from that moment that he knew it was just me and him. He was looking in my eyes and I know he didn't quit because I got up in that ring. That's something that I'm going to carry with me until I’m gone,” DaMarcus said.
Julio Cesar Chavez won the decision, but Frankie stayed on his feet to hear the final bell. The two fighters embraced, closing the book on their decade-long rivalry.
Frankie Randall continued fighting until the following year. His final match would be at Gund Arena in Cleveland, Ohio against junior welterweight contender, Craig Weber.
“Fighting Randall, you know, he’s older, but he’s still dangerous. I have to be at the top of my game. He was past his best, but Frankie Randall is Frankie Randall,” Weber said.
Craig Weber defeated Frankie Randall via a sixth-round TKO. After 22 years as a professional fighter, Frankie “The Surgeon” Randall retired with a record of 58 wins, 18 losses, and 1 draw.
LIFE AFTER BOXING
“Retirement. You know, he went through some hard patches. He went through some rough times. He was in and out of jail a little bit through bad choices, bad decisions, dealing with addiction. Then things started to happen. He wasn’t the same individual anymore. His mind started slipping. You could tell something wasn't right,” DaMarcus said.
DaMarcus and his family checked Frankie into a facility in Chattanooga to get him the mental help he needed. While there, Frankie was diagnosed with Boxing Dementia.
“The early symptoms are changes in behavior and personality. So, it's subtle things in the beginning. It's not severe memory loss, and severe Parkinson's symptoms right in the beginning. At the last stages, you have very severe cognitive deficits. Your body falls apart. Your body could be injured from the sport, but now you're very stiff. You can have Parkinson's like shuffled tremors, loss of balance, and then also have loss of bodily functions,” said Dr. Monica Crane of Genesis Neuroscience Clinic.
As Frankie's health began to deteriorate, his family moved him from the facility in Chattanooga to be so they could be closer to him.
“I watched my dad die twice. I watched my dad die when they diagnosed him with that, and then I watched him pass away physically. That was something that took a toll on me. It was hard to walk in a room and your hero not know who you are. He didn't know who I was,” DaMarcus said.
After nearly a decade of living with dementia, Frankie Randall died on December 23, 2020.
“When Frankie passed everything was taken care of. They did a beautiful job with the services and burying Frankie. His son Marcus really, really took care of him in the end, like a real son who Frankie loved.”
“There is no better perseverance story than Frankie Randall,” Audia said. “He had to endure a lot of ups and downs, and he made it. World champion. How many people can say they were a world champion? Not very many.”
Frankie Randall's mantra was "I love my job." It's something he said repeatedly during training and carried with him every time he stepped into the ring.
"That's something I have tattooed on my arm. It’s his favorite quote," DaMarcus said. "He gave his blood, sweat and tears to the sport of boxing. So, that's something I truly believe that he lived by. I don't think he would have been as great as he was if he didn't love his job.”
While Frankie was on top, he worked with many young fighters, including a young Floyd Mayweather Jr.
"I always said if Frankie could have just beat the demons, he could have probably been one of the all-time great trainers because the kids loved him. He loved the kids, and he knew what he was doing more so than any trainer that I was ever around,” Hale said.
To his son DaMarcus, Frankie Randall is far more than just his accomplishments in the ring.
“My name is Frankie Randall, by the way. You know, that’s something that took me a long time to grasp, to fully understand. It was something I ran from, but my name is Frankie DaMarcus Randall," DaMarcus said. "That's my dad. To the world, he was a great boxer. He was good at his craft, but at the end of the day, that was my dad. He was my hero. He was everything."
The poster from the first Julio Cesar Chavez vs Frankie Randall fight, Chavez was a legend had a record of 89-0 and was on a mission to try to achieve a 100-0 record at the time.
Frankie Randall floors Julio Cesar Chavez for the first time in Chavez's career, it was the first time Chavez had ever been knocked down in 89 fights, this is an epic moment in boxing history, Chavez had a chin made of pure steel. Chavez got careless with his defense and Randall caught him flush with a straight right, Randall actually had good power.
Frankie Randall was a great amateur, he lost to Joe Manley in the 1980 Olympic trials, he turned pro in 1980 and had one fight and didn't fight again until 1983. He built up a good record over the next two years against decent competition, he caught his first break when he fought the legendary and lethal puncher Edwin Rosario, he gave Rosario all he could handle but Rosario got the decision. It was evident from the Rosario fight that Randall had what it takes to be a great boxer. A out a year later he fought the dangerous Freddie Pendleton to a draw. Then Randall started getting in trouble for drugs and it looked like he was done, but he returned to the ring in 1991 with Don King as his promoter. He slowly rebuilt his confidence and fought Edwin Rosario and this time Randall stopped Rosario. Then in 1994 Frankie Randall got a shot at Julio Cesar Chavez, and Chavez was 89-0, nobody thought Randall had s chance at beating Chavez, but Randall seemed very confident, and Randall fought a brilliant fight, he jabbed well, moved well, tied Chavez up and broke his rhythm. When it came time for toe to toe exchanges, Randall got the better of Chavez and beat him to the punch with pinpoint counters. Then in the 11th Chavez got sloppy and Randall floored him, it's one of the most famous knockdowns in boxing history because Chavez was tough as old leather boots and had never been floored in 90 fights. Randall knew he was ahead and boxed smartly in the final round and rightfully got the decision, handing Chavez his first loss and etching his name in the boxing history books. After the fight Randall was very classy and said he would give Chavez a rematch. The rematch happened three months later and in the second round Randall rocked Chavez with a fight hand and Chavez just about went down, but recovered well. It was a close back and forth battle up until the 8th round when their was an accidental head butt initiated by Randall that opened up a cut on Chavez's forehead which led to referee Mills Lane halting the fight and deducting a point from Randall. The fight was then stopped and it went to the scorecards and Chavez was awarded the decision. It was a close fight but I thought Frankie Randall was ahead by a hair and should have been the winner. Anyway, that's boxing. At his best, Frankie Randall was one heck of a fighter, always enjoyed watching him operate in the ring.
Barry McGuigan, "the Clones cyclone". He was one tough Irish son of a gun, threw vicious body shots. He dethroned the legendary Eusebio "the Scorpion" Pedroza, who had held the WBA featherweight championship for 7 years, it was a very iconic win. There was a lot of fighting going on at the time in McGuigan's home country of Ireland and the country would settle down to watch him fight, they used to say "leave the fighting to Barry." He had a short prime, had some personal issues and the loss of his dad hit him really hard, but he was an excellent technical pressure fighter that packed a good punch.
BEST I FACED: BARRY MCGUIGAN
Although Barry McGuigan’s career was fleeting, he accomplished a lot in a short space of time. Arguably, the supremely popular fighter’s greatest accomplishment was bringing Ireland together during “The Troubles” in the 1980s.
McGuigan was born in Monaghan but grew up in nearby Clones in the Republic of Ireland, on the border of Northern Ireland. His father was from the north which made the younger McGuigan eligible to box at the 1978 Commonwealth Games. He returned home from Edmonton with a gold medal. Two years later, he fought at the Olympic Games, losing in the third round.
He decided to turn pro, though had some big decisions, largely because of the goings on in Ireland.
“The support of my hinterland was all in Northern Ireland,” McGuigan told RingTV.com. “So I thought, when I go pro, I could do one of two things: I could go to Dublin and box out of the Boxing Union of Ireland, which wasn’t an organization of any great notoriety. There wasn’t great support for professional boxing.
“But in the north, for some reason, there was great support for professional boxing. So I thought, well, I can move half-a-mile up the road and be in the north, live with my family, train in Belfast, be promoted in Belfast but I had to take out citizenship and that was a whole different ball game because we were right in the middle of the worst period of politics, or what is euphemistically called, ‘The Troubles.’ There was a lot of tension, murders. There were certain sections you couldn’t go and I was an Irish guy, taking out British citizenship.”
McGuigan made his debut in May of 1981, winning by second round stoppage. He surprisingly lost a decision in his third outing to Peter Eubank (Chris’ older brother). Unperturbed he returned and, after two wins, avenged the loss by stoppage.
Tragedy struck the following summer when, after beating Young Ali, his opponent fell into a coma and passed away several months later. With a heavy heart, McGuigan continued his career and won the vacant British featherweight title in the spring of 1983. Later that year, he won the European title, stopping future junior featherweight titlist Valerio Nati in six rounds.
All the while he refused to get involved in politic matters.
Three more European title defenses followed – all by stoppage – and a hard earned decision over battle-tested Juan Laporte prepared him for a fight with long-reigning WBA 126-pound champion Eusebio Pedroza.
The fight took place at the home of Queen’s Park Rangers F.C. in front of 26,000 rabid patrons. Several celebrities attended, including Irvine Welsh and Lucian Freud. An audience of 19 million people tuned in on TV to watch the fight.
McGuigan fought the fight of his life and was rewarded, much to his fervent fans’ delight, with a unanimous decision. The win earned him 1985’s BBC “Sports Personality of the Year.”
He returned to joyous scenes.
“The Greatest moment of my life was coming home to Belfast and Dublin,” he said proudly. “75,000 people gathered in one hour in Belfast. Two days later, in Dublin, 200,000 people came out to see me. It took me one hour to go the length of O’Connell Street, up to the Mansion House, the greatest day of my life. To know what it meant to people both north and south of the border, it was phenomenal. 15,000 in my hometown, they drank for a week.”
Just three months later, McGuigan returned to action to face the unbeaten uber-talented Bernard Taylor, his mandatory challenger. The only blemish on the American’s ledger was a draw against Pedroza. They fought at McGuigan’s home away from home, the Kings Hall in Belfast.
“I closed (Taylor) down, cut the ring off, put him under pressure,” he said. “I knew was going to lose possibly four, five rounds but I closed him down and he couldn’t take the pressure. He couldn’t fight at that pace.
“I looked at several of his fights beforehand and, every time I watched him, I thought, ‘How the hell am I gonna beat this guy?’ because, every time I looked at him, he was so fast. But I knew he couldn’t fight at my pace, so we started off and I just walked him down, head movement, close tight guard and I could feel him as I was hitting him.
“In the seventh round, I buried a left hook to the body, nothing, the noise was deafening, I gave him a little shove and, when I gave him a shove, he made a noise and I knew he was gone. That was right on the bell. I went back to my corner and remember Harry Carpenter (ITV commentator) saying, ‘McGuigan’s got a smile on his face.’ because I knew I hurt him. I didn’t think he wasn’t gonna come out. It completely broke him.”
Next up was tough Dominican fighter Danilo Cabrera, who was stopped in the penultimate round in Dublin.
In the summer of 1986, McGuigan headed to Las Vegas – on the undercard of Thomas Hearns-Mark Medal/Robbie Sims-Roberto Duran – he met Steve Cruz outdoors at Caesars Palace with temperatures reaching 110 degrees.
At the halfway point, McGuigan was ahead but the searing heat sapped him of his energy and down the stretch he faded. He was dropped in the 10th, penalized a point for low blows in the 12th and touched down twice in the 15th round. He lost a close decision – by one point on two of the scorecards – and later spent the night at a local hospital due to dehydration. The fight was voted THE RING Magazine’s “Fight of the Year.”
Almost two years later, he returned to kick off three stoppage wins before he lost to Jim McDonnell (current trainer of James DeGale) in May of 1989. McGuigan decided to retire from boxing, despite being just 28 years old. He did so with a record of 32-3 (with 28 knockouts) and never returned.
“I was burned out physically and mentally,” he explained. “My appetite for the game, and all of what happened with my ex-manager, it made me sick to my stomach.”
There were two men the all-action whirlwind would have liked to have faced: Sandy Saddler and Azumah Nelson.
“I’d have loved to have fought Sandy Saddler. He was a great great fighter, one of the greatest of all-time. (Azumah) Nelson, that would have been a great fight, hands up. He was a better fighter than me; his career defines him as better than me. His longevity was greater than mine.”
For several years, McGuigan served as a boxing pundit, initially on ITV and later on Sky Sports. He was inducted into the International Boxing Hall of Fame in 2005.
He decided to take a new path in 2008, after a chance meeting with a young Carl Frampton at the National Stadium. He was scouting for son Shane, who was going to compete in the Irish amateur championships.
“I decided to manage guys. I’d resisted, then I saw Frampton and thought, I’m going to look after this guy; he’s unbelievable,” he said excitedly. “Something about him, I saw this kid box twice and I was like, I love this guy.”
Things quickly snowballed and the two remain together.
McGuigan, now 56, is married to childhood sweetheart Sandra. The couple live in Kent and have four children. He is the CEO of Cyclone Promotions and manages Frampton. Two of his sons Blane and Jake also help run Cyclone Promotions. Shane no longer boxes but is a renowned trainer, who runs McGuigan’s Gym in Battersea, working with WBA super middleweight titlist George Groves, Josh Taylor and Frampton, among others.
McGuigan graciously took time to speak to RingTV.com about the best he fought in 10 key categories.
BEST JAB
Charm Chiteule: The best jab was either Pedroza or Charm Chiteule. Chiteule was very good; he blackened my eye. He was very slick, tough durable. I hit him with a lot before I got him out of there.
BEST DEFENSE
Eusebio Pedroza: Lateral movement, spatial awareness, head movement, knew where you were, stepped back, stepped in, he could block. I think I caught him once with a good left hook to the body at the end of the fifth round. He was very hard to hit. He was brilliant on the inside, really good at riding a punch, blocking, slipping, rolling his head, pulling back, in and out. Very, very tasty on the inside, very sophisticated.
BEST CHIN
Juan Laporte: Laporte had an incredible chin, unbelievable chin. Nobody ever put him down. I had him out on his feet in the 10th round. He said he’s never been so badly hurt. He fought Julio Cesar Chavez; he fought so many world champions and I think he was stopped at the end of his career. His corner retired him. Nobody ever put him down. Nobody actually stopped him in the ring. He was definitely the toughest. A chin like granite.
FASTEST HANDS
Bernard Taylor: “The B.T. Express”, incredibly talented, 440 amateur fights, lost six times, won the Pan-American games, won everything, amazing talent, very very quick. Without a doubt, he was the quickest.
FASTEST FEET
Taylor: Again, he was so quick, beautiful feet, into punching distance, fire off a volley of shots, get back out again and step to the side. Never went the same way, often guys that move are predictable. They had a preference. Often guys who are orthodox jab and push off the right foot and walk into a right hook or overhand right, whereas he would go this way or that way, equal fluidity, forward and back, in and out, side to side, brilliantly talented, just floated around the ring.
SMARTEST
Pedroza: Far better, just clever, smart, hold you, pull you back. I never stopped. I kept on coming. I put him under pressure. He was very smart, very clever, great spatial awareness. He was a master on the inside; he’d lean on you, shove you, just to create space. He was guilty of lots of misdemeanors. What he’d do is, he’d create enough space; he’d hook and hit you with his hook and forearm. He was clever and subtle. He’d put your head down and pull you into an uppercut. It’s a real skill. I’m not promoting it but his ability to fight on the inside was really tremendous. I couldn’t swallow properly for two or three days (after the fight). His boxing intelligence, that’s your DNA; it’s innate. He had that ability, miles better than anyone else I fought. Although I was young, I was a young hungry lion who put him under pressure. He didn’t start to fade until after the halfway stage. Taylor was more talented but not in the same league.
STRONGEST
Laporte: Laporte was the strongest, strong as a bull. Physical strength, naturally strong. He went up to 140 pounds; he fought Kostya Tszyu, Charles Murray, very strong guy. Physically, although he weighed 126, he was as strong as a welterweight. Really good fighter, a bit of a wasted talent.
BEST PUNCHER
Laporte: Laporte by a mile. He could punch, nearly took my head off. He hit me in the ninth round and, when I was a kid, I lived in the diamond in Clones. My mum and dad had a grocery business. My (now) wife’s family owned a hardware store, a beautiful little town of 3,000 people. There was also a toy shop owned by Mrs Keenan. He hit me and I’m coming forward and throwing the jab and, in the 10th, I stepped in and his head went back, so I thought, “I’ll try it again.” As I came forward I saw red. It was his right hand coming at me; he beat me to the punch. I didn’t know where I was. I thought I was in Mrs Keenan’s shop. That’s the God’s honest truth; I thought, “What am I doing in Mrs Keenan’s shop?” That’s how much he hurt me. I grabbed a hold of him. I don’t know how I cleared my head. (Referee) Harry Gibbs was going, “Break, you’re holding.” I could hear this noise but I held on and then eventually he broke us up. He swung a few more shots and I managed to get myself together and got to the end of the round. That was the hardest I’ve been hit. It was the most bizarre feeling. It took me back to my childhood. I came back to my corner and Eddie Shaw used to do this anytime he thought I was hit with a good shot: He had a big sponge and put it in ice cold water and threw it and shocked you back into your senses.
BEST SKILLS
Pedroza: Back to Pedroza, you can go around in circles and talk about how brilliant Bernard Taylor was but skill is about winning consistently, 19 successful title defenses, seven years as champion of the world, one of the longest reigning featherweights. He was a phenomenal fighter. I was privileged to fight someone that good.
BEST OVERALL
Pedroza: Without a doubt, he was one of the greatest fighters of all time. I pail compared to Eusebio Pedroza. He was one of the greatest featherweights of all time. I’m proud to share a ring with him.
Barry McGuigan's win over the great Eusebio Pedroza was iconic, but what made it even more special was the fact that he dedicated the win to Young Ali, the fighter that had died after Barry McGuigan knocked him out in 1982.
Barry McGuigan and Young Ali in their 1982 fight
'I didn't know if I wanted to box again': Barry McGuigan opens up on tragic fight with Young Ali who died after six months in a coma in 1982... as he recalls emotional tribute to Nigerian after winning world title against Eusebio Pedroza
Barry McGuigan has reflected on his tragic 1982 fight with Young Ali, who died after six months in a coma - admitting he considered hanging up his gloves.
McGuigan won by knockout in the sixth round at the World Sporting Club in London but sadly the Nigerian didn't regain consciousness, and the former featherweight said the trauma had a devastating effect on him.
He eventually decided to carry on with his career, and going into his massive world title bout with Eusebio Pedroza in 1985, he made it his mission to win the fight and dedicate it to Ali after the final bell.
McGuigan told the Gary Newbon Sports Show with Jewson: 'I was thinking about him all week and [I thought] if I win and I get over this hurdle then the first thing I’ve got to do is reflect back to that horrible night in 1982 where I had the tragic fight with the kid.
'After that I didn’t know if I wanted to box or not. If I can do this sort of damage to someone… it happens, but it’s such a tragedy and it's the one thing we as boxing fans don't want to ever happen again.
But it happened before and it will happen again. I happened to be in a very unfortunate position but I wanted to dedicate the fight to him.'
McGuigan went on to beat Pedroza by unanimous decision at Loftus Road and he recalled how emotional he became as he called out Ali's name, insisting he wanted to remember him at the most important time of his career.
I was crying by the time I got round to mentioning his name because I was thinking about it and (presenter) Harry Carpenter was able to articulate what I was saying to the 19 million people watching on the BBC,' he added.
'It was a very sad time for me and at the pinnacle of my career I wanted to remember him. It was really important time for me and that was a really important moment.'
Barry McGuigan vs Eusebio Pedroza, 1985. Like I said, Pedroza was a legend, he was WBA featherweight champion for 7 years, from 1978-85, he defended his title 18 times, a long dominant run. Pedroza was nicknamed "El Alacran" or "the Scorpion" because of his toughness and stamina in the later rounds. This 15 round fight was an exhausting, blistering affair that pitted a rising star against one of the all-time greats. Surviving legendary punchers such as Rocky Lockridge and Juan LaPorte, Eusebio Pedroza had an iron chin. He also posed a considerable leap in competition for Barry McGuigan with his considerable ring IQ, speed/reflexes and vast experience. We see in the first 4 rounds of the fight Pedroza utterly outbox McGuigan, using beautiful lateral movement with flicking jabs. His ability to drop his left shoulder to confuse Barry and throw in a right cross when pivoting was sublime. His tripling of the jab worked initially to dissuade the powerful Irishman who sought to close the enormous distance. Pirouetting and swivelling around McGuigan, he was like a matador to a bull. Round 5 saw Barry intelligently throw crunching left hooks to Pedroza’s lofty frame from underneath, as Pedroza threw his jab. This negated the superior jab and movement from the champion but also banked body shots that slowed the older fighter. The jab starts to lose its snap and he is now holding his left glove low after throwing the jab. The overhand punch is an excellent tool for fighters trying to reach over punches and guards whilst leveraging the whole body. Mcguigan landed a few glancing overhand shots but in round 7, he dropped Pedroza with an absolutely textbook overhand shot. Pedroza slowed further after this knockdown. The playing field was now equalised and Pedroza was forced to engage with Mcguigan. Mcguigan was able to capitalise with frightening pressure; out scoring and bullying the champion at points. The spirit of Pedroza shown through as his blazing hand speed continued to overwhelm the challenger at points in rounds nine and thirteen. Down the stretch the grimace on Barry Mcguigan face displays his violent intent as he continues to club at the Panamanian in the liver. He does not let him off the hook until the final bell sounds. This win from the Belfast Ireland native came almost entirely through grit and determination. In his ultimate career performance, he unseated the greatest Featherweight of the modern era who was defending his title for the 19th time. An iconic win in boxing history, and a very classy gesture for McGuigan to dedicate the fight to young Ali afterwards.
After dethroning Pedroza, McGuigan made two successful defenses of his title, against Bernard Taylor and Danilo Cabrera. He knocked Taylor out in the 8th round and TKO'd Cabrera in the 14th round. You know, boxing is a brutal sport, you don't play boxing, and Barry McGuigan's face after the Cabrera fight was a reminder of the brutaliity. After the Cabrera fight, McGuigan fought Stevie Cruz in 110-degree heat in Vegas, the fight was a grueling toe to toe war and Cruz won the decision and the WBA featherweight title, McGuigan didn't fight for two years after that because his father died. He later made a comeback and appeared in four fights and then hung it up for good with a record of 32-3. In his prime Barry McGuigan was one tough Irish SOB, aggressive as hell, and threw vicious body shots at his opponents. McGuigan is a hero in Ireland, his immense popularity transcended boxing over there because long-standing violence between Catholics and Protestants in Ireland subsided when McGuigan stepped in the ring, the popular saying of the day was "leave the fighting to McGuigan."
Ruben Olivares, from Mexico, some people consider him to be the greatest bantamweight in history, his nickname was "rock-a-bye" because he put people to sleep. He was a monster knockout artist in his prime, a vicious fighter that was responsible for some of the most violent knockouts in boxing history. His record was 61-0 with 58 KO before he was finally defeated for the first time. This is part one of his story.
The All-Time Great Bantamweights: No 1: Rubén Olivares
Ruben Olivares 89-13-3 (79 KOs)
If Ruben Olivares was a cartoon character his victims would be animated with their souls rising out and upwards of their bodies as they careened helplessly to the mat.
To watch Olivares hit his opponents gave the appearance not of a kids' cartoon but a gory horror flick; he would render them extras in a Zombie movie with a well-timed left hook or right cross. Their arms would drop, their legs would stiffen, they’d stumble in a waking dream, then drop like the undead after a shotgun blast to the head, unconsciousness a welcome respite from the nightmare of trading punches with the greatest Mexican knockout artist in boxing history.
Those lucky enough not to be knocked silly would be ground into dust by one of the most aggressive and well-balanced boxer-punchers that ever lived. If you cared for your vital organs, the bones that made up your cranium or the teeth you used to chew your food, you would do well to steer clear of the sweet science in the first place. If you were reckless enough to want to try a career in the fight game, you’d do even better to steer clear of Ruben Olivares.
Look at those numbers. Only ten men survived Olivares when he was in winning form. Padded? Nope, Olivares destroyed contenders like they were journeymen, he even crushed a fighter great enough to make this top ten.
Terry McGovern was a savage. Ruben Olivares was the greatest.
The Rise
The sheer amount of excellent Mexican fighters that sprung up in the 60s and 70s shows us what an excellent fight scene there was in the country, one that had produced world-class fighters before and all-time greats, but no truly great world champions. At bantamweight, Jose Becerra and Raul Macias had fleeting but impressive runs, and pound-for-pound ‘Baby’ Arizmendi and ‘Kid Azteca’ flew the flag.
Yet Mexican greats are often given the same knock that Greg Haugen put on Julio Cesar Chavez, that their records are built against Tijuana cab drivers (even if those cabbies are given credit for their toughness retrospectively) and even in this series the ninth-ranked bantamweight of all time - Carlos Zarate - got a bit of the same treatment from yours truly. But when looking at Olivares’ his superb run before he even challenged for a world title stands up to scrutiny.
He won the Mexican amateur championship but missed out on the Olympics, and with a style like his - and a life far removed from riches - the pro ranks were inevitably going to be roughed up by the boy who would be known in years to come as ‘Rockabye’ Ruben. Legendary trainer and manager Arturo ‘Cuyo’ Hernandez took Olivares under his wing, and the teenager from Mexico City would terrorise everyone he fought on his run to the championship.
It was a sprint along a road littered with broken bodies. Four years. 53 fights unbeaten, with one draw avenged by knockout. These are the numbers we are dealing with.
Jose Medel was a notable antagonist in the tales of no less than three of the great bantamweights in this top ten. In 1968 he was not in his prime but was still a danger to young prospects. He had recently put Lionel Rose on the canvas in a losing effort, and was less than two years out from giving Fighting Harada a tough fight in his second in a world title challenge. He was losing more often that not at this time (1-3-1 in his 5 bouts since challenging the great Harada) but had not been stopped since Eder Jofre put him down and out six years prior. Olivares stopped him in 8 rounds.
Octavio Gomez had beaten Olivares in the amateurs. He was a fledgling bantamweight with a reported 20-1-1 record when Olivares knocked him out in five. Years later, Gomez proved his worth by surviving Danny ‘Little Red’ Lopez (arguably the hardest ever puncher up at featherweight) en route to winning a ten-round decision. He also fought the likes of Eder Jofre, Rogelio Lara, Romeo Anaya and once beat the great bantamweight Rafael Herrera. He was one of many excellent Mexican bantamweights of the era.
Salvatore Burruni was as savvy and experienced a fighter as anyone plying their trade in ‘68. With an intimidating 94-8-1 record, the former world flyweight champion and reigning European bantamweight champion, Burruni was a broad shouldered Italian. Strong, skilled and knew how to survive. He had been stopped just once in his career, retiring due to an injury. He shipped a few left hooks from Olivares and turned his back on him, finding the whole experience so traumatic he refused to talk about it afterward. He never lost again, and retired as European champ, earning five more victories even after the shellacking Olivares gave him.
Tough Filipino Ernie De La Cruz dropped Olivares with a body shot in the second round before Olivares battered him to a ninth-round stoppage. Cruz dropped world champ Lionel Rose in his next fight and lost a tight decision. He was then stopped in ten by Chucho Castillo, before his countryman Ben Villaflor - a humongous super featherweight - beat him on points over ten, ending his world title aspirations once and for all. But he was clearly matched tough and was able to hang in there against world class fighters, so his giving Olivares a few tough rounds is no mark against the Mexican.
There were some talented Japanese fighters not called ‘Fighting’ Harada as well around this time. One of them was the great Masahiko’s brother, Ushiwakamaru Harada, who on film looks like a pale imitation of his great sibling but mixed it up with many bantamweight contenders. The pressure style is the same, but the nous, balance and speed his great brother possessed isn’t there.
Still, he was game, and provided an excellent canvas with which Olivares could splatter leather over, a superb Joe Louis-esque right uppercut-left hook combo sending the Japanese contender seemingly down and out. Ushiwakamaru may not have had his brother's skill but he had his heart, gamely rising and trying his best to fight back. He was saved by the referee in the second round, outgunned and outclassed.
Kazuyoshi Kanazawa was out of his depth when Olivares blasted him in two rounds. But we will meet him again later.
Undoubtedly the best of the Japanese contenders Olivares met in his early days was Takao Sakurai. Olympic gold medalist and one half of a highly-technical world title match with Lionel Rose, Sakurai was one of those weird beasts: a seemingly feather-fisted fighter who showed he could dig when it mattered most. He’d sat Rose down in his sole world title challenge, and he also put Olivares down when the two met in a world title eliminator in 1969.
A straight left was the shot which put Olivares down. The Mexican prospect claimed after the fight to be confused by Sakurai’s southpaw stance. This was an Olympic gold medalist, of course, a highly-skilled operator who had a 15-round world title bout under his belt.
In the small footage readily available of this fight, Olivares seemingly adopted the pressure style well known as a staple of Mexican fighters. Bearing that in mind, it was unsurprisingly body shots that won him the fight. Sakurai bravely rose three times from crunching blows that seemed to fold him in half. In the sixth, he could take no more, and Olivares had booked himself a meeting with Lionel Rose.
The ‘Oxnard Press Courier’ said that Olivares gave the finest showing of the night in dusting Sakurai, emerging as "a likely challenger but unlikely threat to world bantamweight champion Lionel Rose".
By the time they fought Olivares would be a slight favourite with the bookies. By the time the fight was over he would be a national hero.
Olivares vs Rose
Lionel Rose had already achieved enough at bantamweight to make the tenth place in this list. Nothing he did after he defended his undisputed world championship against Olivares got him there, for he never made the weight again. Thus, Olivares stepped into the ring at the ‘Fabulous Forum’ in Inglewood against an all-time great, the hardest way to win a world championship.
Rose had done the same, beating Fighting Harada in Japan to earn the strap, and considering that the successive bantamweight champions that held the unified title from Eder Jofre to Rose all featured in this top ten, you could argue that this was the strongest hand-off from great to great that any weight class has ever seen.
An op-ed in the ‘Van Nuys Valley News’ (California) saw Rose’s reign as such:
"Since then, of course, Rose has found a gold mine here in Los Angeles, where is becoming rich beating Mexican contenders. He got a good payday for whipping Jose Medel in a non-title fight at The Forum. Then came 70 Gs for his title defence against Chucho Castillo. Remember, the fight was close and ended in a riot."
That bout - in my eyes a classic contest - as well as the Medel ten-round fight, were looked at extensively in the essay that honoured Rose as the tenth greatest bantamweight of all time. But both fights were undeniably competitive. Both men could punch, both were Mexican, and both were excellent technicians, Castillo more well-rounded, Medel a peerless counter puncher.
Olivares was no less technical, although he was more ferocious and less measured than his compatriots. The same op-ed also felt that Rose’s luck would run out against Olivares.
Both men were 21, phenoms bang in the middle of their respective primes. A classic styles clash; the majestic boxer versus the danger man.
A ‘Sports Illustrated’ article shed light on Olivares’ personality outside the ring. He was a colourful character, but what seemed like a fun side to the monster that came out in the ring would prove a ball and chain around his neck as the years passed:
"Olivares is a relisher of bright clothes, shiny jewelry, soft lights and hard drink. He liked to go shopping. The last time he fought in Los Angeles he came with one suit of clothes and an empty suitcase."
Manager Arturo Hernandez was quoted in the same article. He said: “He’s homesick. All he wants to do is knock out Rose and go home."
George Parnassus secured his chance to stage the bout with an offer of $100,000 to the champion. An Associated Press report noted that Parnassus was hosting the fight on neutral ground, but that isn’t entirely accurate. The veteran promoter had staged many fights in California, and Rose was respected there. But Olivares, a popular Mexican, would have been the crowd favourite, and perhaps the owners of ‘The Fabulous Forum’ might have wanted to avert a repeat of the chaos that ensued after Rose beat Castillo on points if the bout went to the cards.
“Don’t worry about a riot," said Olivares, “I’ll knock Rose out within nine rounds”.
Olivares was not just a phenom but a prophet; Rose was out-gunned from the start.
Olivares baited him first, feinting with a jab to the body. Rose, savvy, defensively astute, didn’t bite. Olivares circled his man and jabbed with him. Rose had seen this before, the skilled Japanese boxer Sakurai who had dropped both him and Olivares giving him the same look. As he did then, Rose walked his man down, using his superior size to bully Olivares in close, chopping away with short jolts in close.
Rose might have had the larger frame, but Olivares was the stronger man. In a sequence that looks remarkably similar to Chucho Castillo downing Rose towards the latter stages of their fight, Olivares caught Rose with a right hand and sent him sprawling face first to the canvas.
Rose survived, but the following rounds saw Olivares amp up the aggression battering Rose to body and head, Rose’s reflexes first clawing back the space and time he needed to survive, then dulled by the debilitating body blows that Olivares dug into him.
Stunned by this, his legs sapped from underneath him, the once slick Rose was reduced to a large target for Olivares to tee off on. Down twice more, his trainer Jack Rennie, who loved him like a son, jumped into the ring to save him from further punishment. Olivares had got the job done in five rounds, quicker than even he had predicted.
Rose, always classy, had nothing but good things to say about the man who had smashed him down and taken his belt from him;
“He’s a great bantamweight," said Rose, quoted in a ‘United Press International’ report the day after the fight. “But the bantamweight division is hotly contested and the title is very hard to hold. Olivares will find that out but if he’s the fighter I think he is, he could hold the title a long time."
Rose was also quoted by ‘Sports Illustrated’, where he went more in depth as to why he lost the bout: "He kept hitting me under the rib cage," Rose said, "I couldn’t get my breath."
That certainly explains why Rose didn’t move around as much as usual, which in turn left him exactly where the Mexican wanted him to further his body assault.
Although Olivares had landed his left hook early and dropped Rose in the second, he was obviously still respectful of the former champ’s talents, simply saying, “in the middle of the third I knew I was boss”.
And the boss of the division, a weight class which Rose rightly said was a tough one to remain the boss of for long.
There was only one thing on Olivares’ mind after the fight, and it wasn’t continuing his legacy.
“Come, vacation with me, Acapulco. Great time, great place! Come, I treat you to the works-wine, women, song.”
While this pattern would repeat during Olivares’ career, he gave the wariest of his camp some encouragement.
“Do not worry," said Olivares, “I know when to work and when to have fun. Before the fight, I sweat. Now I play.”
Olivares would play in the ring as much outside, the canvas his sandbox, continuing that great lineage of champions; Jofre, Harada, Rose, and now Olivares.
All had lost their titles in the ring, even when the illustrious featherweight division beckoned. Defending their hard-earned championships seemed to mean more, even in the face of heinous weight cuts and a murderers' row trying to knock the crown off their heads.
Rose himself had struggled with the weight. In fact, he never fought at 118lbs again, a young pup when king and finding the throne uncomfortable to sit on as he filled out.
Against Harada, he put forth one of the best exhibitions of pure boxing skill within the confines of the weight. Against Jesus ‘Chucho’ Castillo, he was one half of a truly great world title clash.
Against Olivares, he was on the receiving end of arguably the worst beating suffered by an all-time great in his prime at the hands of another.
Fellow boxing historian Matt McGrain, writing for ‘The Sweet Science’, summarised Rose thus when ranking him sixth in his own countdown of the great bantams:
"Perhaps a little unfairly I would identify Rose as the weak link among these four great champions; but this is a little like identifying Ringo as the weakest member of The Beatles. It’s better being the worst musician in the greatest band ever to have played than the best musician in your mother’s basement."
To take the analogy further, if Rose was Ringo then Jofre was Paul; versatile, measured, respected. Harada was George, affable, well-loved, with a resume that only gets more impressive the deeper you look.
Olivares then, was Lennon. The badass of the bunch, violent, unpredictable.
In his first defence, Olivares would take on another excellent bantamweight, and unlike the analogy posited above, he was actually given the moniker of ‘The Boxing Beatle’. Like Jose Medel, Alan Rudkin has featured prominently in our look at other members of this top ten, a terrific fighter whose ability to give the greats a tough test only adds to their legend.
He features in the tale of Ruben Olivares too. What the Mexican did was not only more impressive than those legendary bantamweights, but terrifying.
Alan Rudkin had won two bouts following his razor-thin decision loss to Lionel Rose, defending his British title once and scoring a quick first-round KO in an over-the-weight bout. By all intents and purposes he was still the contender who had put forth a solid case to be christened the main man. He had also taken the great Fighting Harada the distance. He was quick, unnaturally tough and could box as well as he could scrap, and as a scrapper he was without equal even in these deep and dangerous bantamweight waters.
Thus he was as surprised as anyone when Ruben Olivares was installed as firm favourite over him, reportedly laughing at the bookies.
"Olivares is a puncher and a comer. What I mean is that he will come to me. I won’t have to chase him. I like that type of fighter. You will see I can stand my ground and fight too," Rudkin told ‘The Liverpool Echo’.
Rudkin had the ghosts of world title fights past in his head though, and was concerned about how the fight might go if it went the distance.
“I’ve lost twice for this title, and both times I was the victim of a hometown decision," he said. “So this time, I’m going out to knock out Olivares, and I am sure he is going to try and do the same to me."
Rudkin did as he said, taking the fight to Olivares early, perhaps hoping he could push the champ onto the back foot and dampen his power.
Rudkin’s manager Bobby Neill told the ‘Liverpool Echo’ that Alan had decided to have a go at Olivares, adding, “It was against my advice."
Just as in the first round against Harada, Rudkin found himself on the deck, a "stinging left hook" doing the damage. Reports said this was the first time Rudkin had been down, not quite accurate but then the knockdown against Harada seemed as much a product of tangled feet as it did a good punch.
In the second round, Olivares rammed a right hand into the pit of Rudkin’s stomach that had him on his knees gasping for air. Rudkin fired back with a right to the heart, but Olivares had a whiff of blood and was impossible to stave off. A left hook flattened Rudkin with 30 seconds left in the round. He was out.
“I have never been hit so hard in my life," said Rudkin, knocked out for the first and only time in his career. “All of a sudden I found myself sitting on the canvas. I don’t even know how it happened."
Olivares blasts Rudkin
Olivares blasts Rudkin
Rudkin also weighed up Olivares against the previous greats he had faced: “He is a much better fighter than the other champions I fought, Lionel Rose and Fighting Harada in all regards. It would have to be a real good puncher to slow him down.”
An ‘Associated Press’ report said there was "no competition left in field" after Olivares dismissed Rudkin. This was how he was perceived at the time, as having cleaned out the division in just two world title bouts.
There were other challenges out there though.
The ‘Liverpool Echo’ saw it like this:
"Meanwhile, back in Mexico, they will be developing another mighty midget to let loose on the boxing world. They say that good bantams grow there on trees and Rudkin will certainly subscribe to this theory. Mexico also produced Jose Medel, who stopped Walter McGowan in six rounds; Jesus Castillo, who stopped Evan Armstrong in two - and that accounts for Britain’s three top-ranked bantamweights - and the incomparable Vicente Saldivar, who beat Howard Winstone three times and probably still gives him nightmares. On reflection, perhaps we would do better to let these swarthy little men fight it out among themselves."
This demonstrates how the 60s were truly the golden age of Mexican boxing. Dangerous and skilled contenders and champions spread over the lighter weights, not just defining Mexican boxing for the era, but for the rest of all time.
Olivares fancied taking a chance at the two titlists up at featherweight, either boxer-puncher Shozo Saijo of Japan, or tough pure boxer Johnny Famechon of Australia.
A Mexican writer instead called for Olivares to defend his title against one of his own.
“I prefer to fight guys other than my countrymen," is what he reportedly said in response to that question.
The number one contender had fought on the undercard and came out victorious. Much to Olivares’ chagrin, he was a compatriot. As Rudkin called for, he could punch. And when Olivares’ fighting pride got the better of him, he would be the man who would define Olivares’ career.
The Chucho Castillo Trilogy
Let’s roll it back. Not to the beginning of Olivares’ career, but to the lower end of this top ten.
When I started writing it, Chucho Castillo sat proud in eighth place. Above Lionel Rose, who he had that closely contested loss to. Above Carlos Zarate, who in most lists sits among the gods in the top five. Above Panama Al Brown, who eventually took Castillo’s spot.
The great ‘Chucho’ Castillo
The great ‘Chucho’ Castillo
I did not discover anything about Castillo that made him fall a few spots and out of the top ten. I discovered he was much as I thought; a truly great bantamweight. That he just missed out is not an indictment of his quality as a fighter. The lower half of the top ten was just that hard to call, much as I have found the top five to be.
In simple terms, without Jesus ‘Chucho’ Castillo, Ruben Olivares might not make the top five of this list, let alone be standing on top of the mountain, fists clenched, ready for any potential usurpers.
Castillo had gone 5-1-2 since his riot-causing loss to Lionel Rose, drawing with Jose Medel (who he held a win over) Ushiwakamaru Harada (who Olivares had stopped) and going 1-1 with top-notch Mexican Raul Cruz.
But the jewel in the crown of this run, which may look more impressive numbers wise when you consider it was in the space of a calendar year, was a third-round knockout of Rafael Herrera.
Then just a domestic rival, Herrera would eventually become the third of the holy trinity of Mexican bantamweights. And while Boxrec lists it as a simple ‘TKO’, Herrera himself was much more honest in his summary of the bout when talking to Dan Hanley for ‘The Cyber Boxing Zone’ in 2012.
Hanley asked whether Herrera had been stopped on a cut:
"This fight was for the Mexican bantamweight championship and Castillo was the number one contender in the world. I took this fight very seriously and thought that if I could beat Castillo then I could actually beat world champion Lionel Rose. But, there was no cut. This was the first fight that I was actually knocked out."
So Chucho Castillo was about as good as it got during an era where the bantamweight division was as good as it got.
When the men finally met to sign the contract, they started their civil war earlier than expected.
“Olivares is weak on defence and he has never had to go 15 rounds," said Castillo. “If it goes into the late rounds, I should beat him."
Olivares, no stranger to showing his colourful character, fired back in kind,
“There is room in Mexico for only one champion. And I intend to show I am the champion of my own country as well as the world.”
Reports claimed they didn’t like each other. They had fought on the same cards before, and with one unified champion and one true number one contender it is not hard to see why these two proud Mexicans resented each other.
‘Sports Illustrated’ saw Castillo and Olivares’ reasons for their mutual hatred;
"When Castillo became the champion of Mexico in 1967, Olivares challenged him. Castillo told him that he would have to wait his turn. Finally a fight was set, but when Castillo was given a shot at Lionel Rose's title late in 1968, Olivares was again told to wait. 'He knows I'll beat him,' said Olivares. When Castillo lost a controversial split decision to Rose, Mexico almost severed relations with Australia. The Mexican fans who were crammed into The Forum in Los Angeles that night rioted for over an hour. 'Why all the fuss?' said Olivares. 'Rose won. I was surprised the voting was that close.' Ruben didn't win any popularity contests in Mexico after that. Then stories circulated that Olivares was paying more attention to tequila than to training, and he became even less popular. Mexicans expect their boxing heroes to become drunks. It's something of a tradition. But they want them to wait until they retire."
Olivares might have been continuing with a steady training regime of gym work and partying, but the champion at least knew the qualities his top contender possessed:
“I know Castillo will be my toughest opponent because our national pride will be at stake in this fight”, Olivares said. “Castillo is a very determined boxer. I think he will give me a better fight than Lionel Rose did when I won the title, even though Rose beat Castillo."
Olivares also told the press that due to Castillo’s physical strength and punching power being superior to that of Rose he had not been cutting corners in training.
He had been to Disneyland in the days leading up to the fight. Olivares couldn’t resist extra curricular activities, even if he wasn’t up to his usual partying.
Castillo summarised his training camp thus: “I’m not going anywhere except to the gym and the [Inglewood] Forum." The challenger was a no-nonsense fighter.
Before the fight, Olivares’ record was lauded with terms such as ‘unbelievable’, due to his astonishing unbeaten ledger and his ginormous list of knockouts. His confirmed record going into his first fight with Castillo was 57-0-1 with 55 knockouts. He had knocked out every man he had faced, bar one who was saved by being disqualified instead, and had shown himself a man sure to tie up any loose ends with anyone who dared take him the distance. He had avenged that draw too, by knockout of course.
Castillo’s training was interrupted by his son falling ill in Mexico, but he returned to the United States, the bout not being postponed as a result. A month before the bout his father was killed in an accident.
“He has always been on the quiet side," said Castillo’s manager Geronimo Lopez, “but I have never seen him like this. He has been in a dark mood and refuses to see anyone."
Castillo still obliged reporters who asked him about his opponent:
"I'm only only interested in beating Olivares”, he said. “It is all I live for. Olivares is a loudmouth and not deserving to be champion. In Mexico, I am the popular one. I will beat Olivares and then the title will truly belong to my country."
Castillo was also banking on a chink in Olivares’ armour. He wouldn’t disclose exactly what it was, only that it was, “a big mistake I can take advantage of”.
Olivares said he would stop Castillo inside of two rounds.
The stage was set for a grudge match between two bantamweights at the peak of their powers. Both could punch, and both were technical. The champion had never tasted defeat, the challenger had and had come out better for it.
Olivares was making $100,000, the same price Rose set when he was champion. Mexican television rights were reportedly $75,000, astronomical for a bantamweight fight in those days. The Inglewood Forum was sold out, and readers of the ‘Van Nuys Valley News’ were told to check out the theatres showing the bout as getting a ticket was impossible.
Olivares vs Castillo had been billed as ‘The Mexican Civil War’. The fight lived up to its billing.
Olivares vs Castillo I
Both men feinted and prodded their way in. Characteristically Castillo took the back foot and Olivares was the aggressor. The champion got off first, bringing himself closer to Castillo with whichever hand was closest and bringing the opposite hand into play, catching the challenger off guard. But after two rounds Castillo had barely flinched, despite tasting leather more than once.
In the third Olivares stepped in again, but instead found himself down, a short counter right hand his poison. Was this the mistake Castillo claimed to have seen? Olivares sprung up immediately and tasted another right hand for his troubles, all before the referee could start the count.
Olivares proved Castillo wrong on a few counts. The opening Castillo saw was not Olivares’ downfall. Castillo hurt Olivares again in the 14th round, but found Olivares capable of slipping shots. The champion showed the ability to counter punch as well as the master.
And at the end of 15 rounds - where the challenger had predicted Olivares would be at his weakest - the champion retained, working hard after the knockdown to keep the pressure on Castillo and landing the more quality punches. No mean feat when faced with a master counter puncher like Castillo, who was competitive throughout.
Olivares had shown he was not just a front runner; he was of championship calibre and could defend his title over the distance against a highly-skilled fighter. Castillo had taken the champion's best punches and not come close to folding, yet Olivares had shown poise and a good engine.
Both men seemed to have lost none of their distaste for one another after the fight, but had gained a newfound respect a fighter only earns after bravely withstanding the other for 45 minutes.
“Only two other men have gone the distance against me and tonight was the first time I’ve ever gone 15 rounds. I don’t like Chucho, but he’s not a bad little boxer," said the champ.
“I knew he was good, but thought I was better," said a disappointed Castillo, adding that Olivares’ left hand was "positively the best I’ve ever seen…and felt".
Castillo called for a rematch.
“And he can have it," spat Olivares, as quoted by ‘Sports Illustrated. “He’s a good tough fighter and he gave me my toughest fight. He was in the super condition of his life. That’s what held him up. And he’ll never again be able to get into that kind of condition."
Olivares vs Castillo II
Olivares made no more defences between his fights with Castillo, instead fighting as a fully fledged featherweight for three bouts (3-0, 2 knockouts) while Castillo took on a stiffer test in defence of his NABF bantam title, beating yet another hard-punching Mexican Rogelio Lara by 12-round UD on a stacked card at the ‘Fabulous Forum’ which also featured Olivares in one of his featherweight bouts and welterweight great Jose Napoles.
Olivares was on hand for the Castillo vs Lara bout, and predicted an easier win second time round.
With Lara out of the picture, Castillo - still the number one contender - was granted his rematch, and was said to be "ripping into his sparring partners like a man getting ready for a do-or-die effort".
Castillo’s manager ‘El Conjo’ Lopez said his charge was approaching the rematch differently:
‘We boxed him last time and we lost. It was a case of block and punch and it was no good. This time will be different. It will be punch, punch and punch again, and Castillo can punch. Remember, he scored the only knockdown in his first fight with Olivares."
On the flipside, Olivares’ training sessions had some onlookers worried.
"The meanest 118lb hombre, this side of, well anywhere, is risking his crown tonight at [Inglewood] Forum against Chucho Castillo and the champ has looked bad enough in workouts that the odds have dropped him to only a 6-5 favourite."
"I’ll be ready tonight," said Olivares. "I saw something in the first fight and will score a knockout."
Olivares had predicted a stoppage in his first fight with Castillo, and it hadn’t happened. In fact, he had been the one on the canvas. One report labelled Olivares as happy-go-lucky. He was not concerned about his opponent.
As is in their first go, Castillo was seen as more introverted and serious. He was said to have looked solemn, and confided to his team that he would have to knock Olivares out to win.
The ‘Press Telegram’ asked Castillo to delve into his feelings on Olivares. Time had not been a healer:
"I laugh at him," said the challenger. "He makes me sick. In our first fight I had the only knockdown. I felt so strongly against him that I almost wanted to smash him again the second he got up. I went the whole 15 rounds with the guy before. So what makes him so great? Nothing. Have you seen him lately? He looks like a bum."
Hank Hollingworth, writing for the same publication, went on to describe why the bout was not just important for the fighters involved, but for the sport of boxing:
"The bantamweight championship is something sacred within itself if for no other reason that it involves MORE outstanding fighters than any other boxing division. Look at the heavyweights, for instance. Even somebody like Jerry Quarry has a chance for the title. Don’t even mention the lightheavies. A student of the game could go even further."
It is true that bantamweight has historically been a deep division full of killers. And that the unified championship came down again to Olivares and Castillo - the bona fide number one and two - speaks of the magnitude of this fight.
The result arguably made it even more special.
The first few rounds looked much like the first fight; lots of probing, feinting, trying to create an opening for a heavy blow. Olivares tried to go over the top with a right hand; Castillo responded with rights of his own, showing Olivares he was the master of that particular shot. Both men commanded centre ring and pawed with their jabs. Even without much to write about here, it remains a pleasure to watch these two masters.
Only one thing of note happened in those first few rounds, and the grainy footage doesn’t shed any light on how it occurred. The fighters and onlookers also seemed to disagree. But whether caused by leather or bone, the champion was bleeding.
"I hit him with a right hand punch," said Castillo, a case which is certainly supported by the film. Both the referee and Olivares saw a headbutt as the main factor.
changed the course of the fight. Olivares was his usual brilliant self but Castillo - as was reportedly his game plan - became the hunter. Both men exchanged punches in close in an engrossing battle of aggressive counter punching. Unlike the first bout, Olivares remained upright throughout. Castillo opened another cut underneath the eye with a right hand later on and try as he might, Olivares’ experienced trainer ‘Cuyo’ Hernandez could never stop the wounds from oozing.
But he was stopped, the contest halted in the 14th round when the crimson mask Castillo had gifted him turned opaque.
Referee Dick Young explained his reasons for stopping the fight:
‘It all started in the first round. Both men came together real hard and they butted heads. Castillo came out all right but Olivares had a slit over his left eye. He also incurred a cut on his left cheekbone. The doctor thought it wasn’t necessary to end the fight, so I went alone with him. It was bloody and messy in the ninth round but I saw no reason to finish the fight then, either. After all, it was for the title. However, in the 14th round, I had to stop it, as much as I didn’t want to."
The ‘Associated Press’ report gave credit to Castillo’s strategy, seeing him as "the expert in the later rounds in banging the body to bring the guard down and then sharpshooting the wounded eye".
The new champion said after the fight he knew this was his last chance to win the title.
"I think my combinations affected him," said Castillo. "I didn’t use many combinations in our last fight and he didn’t expect them this time."
The now deposed champion was indignant and played down Castillo’s efforts.
"Castillo didn’t fight me any different this time than last time, except for the butts."
This doesn’t ring true based on the footage. The first fight was a boxing match, and although no less technical, Castillo threw many more punches, and was more aggressive. Olivares accommodated him, true, but the words pre-fight from Castillo and his camp gave Olivares a strong clue as to his opponent's tactics. In the ring you see things differently, of course, and interviewing a fighter after losing his ‘0’ and his championship might not be the best time to get an accurate analysis of a fight.
Not that Olivares hadn’t fought well. Although there were concerns about his training camp leading up to the bout, he had met Castillo’s punches with his own and protested the stoppage. In the 14th round, one judge had him up, with the other two ruling it a draw. The champion had not been exposed, he had merely met the one challenger who was his equal technically and who could stand up to his punches.
The two best bantamweights in the world were now one apiece. You know what happens next.
Olivares vs Castillo III
"I only loaned Castillo my title and I’ll win it back by knockout within nine rounds."
It was the champion Chucho Castillo that first called for a rubber match, and hoped it would be held in Mexico City, but the Inglewood Forum was big business for George Parnassus and the previous two fights between them had sold it out. Both men took warm-up fights (both scoring early stoppages) and six months after their brutal, bloody rematch they met again.
Olivares was obviously confident of winning. But Castillo, once quiet, sometimes surly, seemed to lighten up despite the gold weight around his waist.
"I must be improving," he chuckled. "Last time Olivares said he’d finish me in six rounds."
Castillo was not resting on his champion status. He was said to be training hard, and even received a few pointers from the great ‘Sugar’ Ray Robinson. He was confident and assured, as always. The only thing that annoyed him?
"Why Olivares, why Olivares?" he asked. When pressed, he just repeated the question.
"The situation is this: Chucho Castillo may be the champion, but Ruben Olivares gets all the publicity", wrote Dan DeLong for the ‘Pomono Press Bulletin’.
Olivares might have looked past Castillo in their second fight, but his bravado could not be underestimated even after losing his title. He had told promoter Parnassus to line up world featherweight champ Kuniaki Shibata as soon as possible, he was that confident of winning back his title. The veteran promoter told Olivares to keep his mind on the task at hand.
Both men appeared to be in superb shape for their important rubber match. Dr Jack Useem of the California Athletic Commission said, "These two little fellows are two of the best conditioned athletes I have ever checked", at the pre-fight medical. Neither was leaving anything to chance.
Olivares might have been training hard for Castillo as well as having his eye on a title in a second weight class, but there was one thing he always had his other eye on.
Dan DeLong again: "Olivares is always busy with the ladies or something else. Sometimes he’s at the track, or walking through Mexico City, where Olivares is a hero, but it’s always back to the clubs and the ladies."
Not that Olivares’ ability to fight wasn’t what mostly kept him in the headlines.
One report said, "Boxing experts consider the muscular native of Mexico City as the best puncher the bantamweight division has ever known." Certainly a case can be easily made for Olivares in that discussion, but his rubber match with Castillo further demonstrates his placing here as the greatest all-round bantamweight of all time.
For in this fight, an almost carbon copy of their first meeting, Olivares showed resolve, adaptability, and a level of ring generalship not normally associated with pure punchers.
In another callback to their first fight, he also had to drag himself up off the deck to do it.
Castillo had played matador in the first fight, and the second saw him the bull with Olivares’ face the red rag. In this one, Olivares went against type, showing himself capable of a disciplined boxing performance, forcing Castillo to come to him.
Not that Castillo’s counter-punching abilities had disappeared upon him winning the title. Olivares got too eager in the sixth round and was sent down by a counter left hook. Castillo showed again that he was also a two-fisted puncher.
Olivares had battled through the blood when losing the title, and here he regained his composure as quickly as the mandatory eight count as registered. He fired off single shots and slipped under Castillo’s return fire, spun off and regained centre ring. He didn’t stay too long on the inside, and forced the counter puncher to follow him around.
In the 13th when the champion desperately tried to turn the tide he was met with a series of thudding body shots. At the end of 15 rounds, Ruben Olivares once again was world bantamweight champion, his jab and movement the difference in a decision that all reports saw as one-sided.
"I was never worried during the fight," said Olivares in his dressing room after the fight, flashing his signature toothy smile. "I was completely confident."
Castillo said he would be happy to meet Olivares again.
The ‘Associated Press’ report said there was no need. In winning the trilogy, Olivares had "slugged himself out of opponents".
This wasn’t quite accurate. But Olivares would never again box with the same verve and panache that he demonstrated in his third fight with Castillo.
Within a year he had been knocked out and lost his title for good.
The Final Three
When looking at Olivares’ early days I said we would meet Kazuyoshi Kanazawa again, and in Olivares’ penultimate successful defence the Japanese battler was the opponent.
Kanazawa was never the most consistent fighter, but he nailed some impressive scalps to his wall; tough Thai Berkrek Chartvanchai had recently held half of the world flyweight title, he survived an aging Jose Medel for ten rounds, and opened a nasty cut around the eye of dangerous Mexican Jesus Pimentel for a ninth-round stoppage win.
He had suffered stoppage losses to Ushiwakamaru Harada and future bantam titlist Rodolfo Martinez (as well as being blasted by Olivares in two rounds) but was 3-0 in 1971, winning the vacant Orient bantamweight title.
Olivares was said to be working hard and not counting out Kanazawa based on their previous meeting, but judging by the footage that seems hard to believe. Olivares seemed to be leading with power punches with little set up for much of the fight, and this coupled with the brave Japanese trying his hardest to win the title saw Olivares get himself into some bad spots.
Olivares’ attempts to put Kanazawa away saw him put down, half by a counter left hook, half by a shove. It was ruled a slip, but to my eyes looks a legitimate knockdown.
Later on in the fight, Olivares put forth a more educated effort, pressuring the challenger with his patented body shots. But in the 13th round Kanazawa exploded into a two-handed flurry which had Olivares stranded against the ropes, referee Jay Edson having more than one close look at the champion.
Kanazawa, tired at unloading his full arsenal on Olivares, threw a series of wide punches that a blind man could’ve easily avoided, and missed one flailing punch so badly he ran halfway around the ring and fell over. This gave Olivares some respite, and in the 14th round he upped his game, brought more pressure and Kanazawa flopped to the floor repeatedly, enough times that the bout was brought to an automatic end.
Olivares credited the challenger for his efforts, telling ‘The Pacific Stars & Stripes’ that he was a much improved fighter.
Kanazawa, who received much acclaim from the Japanese crowd for his brave efforts, had no regrets.
"I did my best," Kanazawa said. "Olivares was too strong for me."
Olivares would make his last successful defence back in Inglewood. His opponent, a perfect one, Jesus Pimentel, who has been a staple of this series despite never being in a world title fight.
In fact, he had been threatening a challenge of Eder Jofre, Fighting Harada and Ruben Olivares since the early 60s. His manager Harry Kabakoff seemed to seek more and more favourable deals for his man, and the fights inevitably fell apart. Lawsuits and dirt-slinging would ensue (often from both sides) and Pimentel would invariably go on another run of knockouts against outmatched opposition.
By the time he came to challenge Olivares, he was past his best. Gone was the undefeated terror of the bantamweight division, and in the opposite corner Olivares would see a battle-scarred man who had lost three bouts in three years.
That doesn’t sound like a particularly bad run. But when you consider that Pimentel had failed to outgun Kanazawa, been widely outscored by Chucho Castillo, and outworked by unheralded Filipino Bernabe Fernandez, the cracks in his game were as visible as the scar tissue on his face.
But Pimentel had drummed up interest in another big fight in his own inimitable way, racking up 15 wins in succession, 13 of them inside the distance, not one of them against a first-rater.
On a bill that also featured Jose Napoles defending his title against the underrated Hedgemon Lewis, promoter George Parnassus felt it was the ‘biggest’ of his career (although as one writer put it, the promoter almost always put out a quality product).
There was a rumour before the fight that Parnassus would gift the champion a brand new Cadillac if he won within five rounds. When the promoter scoffed at that idea, Olivares said, "If I don’t get the car from someone I intend to buy it myself."
Pimentel was first slated to challenge Olivares a year earlier. Olivares instead gave Chucho Castillo a rematch, and it will be no surprise to anyone that has read Eder Jofre and Fighting Harada’s installments to discover that Pimentel and his team tried to sue Olivares.
Even then, Frankie Goodman writing for ‘The Van Nuys Valley News’ in California predicted that Pimentel would be stopped in quick fashion if he were to challenge Olivares, adding, he "would be no match for the champion at this present time".
Pimentel seemed to acknowledge this before the fight.
"I feel real good," Pimentel told the ‘Associated Press’ reporter before the fight, adding in defeatist fashion, "but I’ve got to understand that years have passed."
But two Mexican knockout artists guarantees an interesting fight even if it transpired as to not being all that competitive. Olivares and Pimentel had over a hundred knockouts between them.
Olivares didn’t get rid of Pimentel within five rounds, but he boxed beautifully after being cut in some ferocious early exchanges. Realising Pimentel’s best chance was in a fire fight, the champion got on his toes, displaying more poise and intelligence than he had in his previous defence and harking back to his third fight with Chucho Castillo.
In the sixth he nearly got the stoppage, sending Pimentel half out of the ring. But after waiting so long for a title shot, the challenger wasn’t going to give in that easy, and fought his way back into the fight. Pimentel got his licks in, but Olivares was the general, and Pimentel’s loving manager Kabakoff pulled out the veteran at the end of the 11th round, knowing there was nothing his man could do to turn the bout in his favour.
"He didn’t get the car," said Pimentel after the fight. "Father time - you just can’t beat him", Pimentel added, before retiring. He stayed true to that decision, ending his impressive career with a 76-7 record, and an astonishing 68 KOs to his name.
"Pimentel has a lot of courage," was all Olivares said of his challenger. "Guts."
Guts are synonomous with Mexican fighters. Pimentel’s had been called into question before, but in the twilight of his career he had put forth a spirited effort against a fighter who was essentially a younger, bigger and better version of himself.
But his tendency to pull out of fights meant another Mexican was on standby lest Pimentel come down with a phantom illness before the fight.
Three months later, Rafael Herrera would be rewarded for his patience. Olivares would be punished for sticking around for too long, thoroughly outboxed and then flattened by a short left hook in eight rounds.
It begs the question: why not Herrera?
The G.O.A.T.
The first fight between Olivares and Herrera could be seen in some ways to be the perfect ending to Olivares’ time atop the bantamweight division. His last win at the 118lbs limit came against another legendary Mexican puncher, Jesus Pimentel, in his adopted home of California. And he lost his title to another Mexican, back home in Mexico City, his prime ending where it all began. The torch had been passed, or rather taken with thunderous punches.
Unlike Olivares’ previous loss to Castillo, there was no bad blood between these two Mexican warriors.
"I’m sorry I beat you," said Herrera to Olivares, "But I need the money."
Olivares was listless in this fight. Sluggish, his defensive radar seemingly switched off, and swinging wildly with his punches. On film, it looks a lesser performance than he mustered against Kanazawa in Japan, and in Herrera he was faced with a bantamweight of the highest calibre. At home, in a domestic dust-up in defence of the title he worked so hard to win back from Chucho Castillo, and yet Olivares was as poor as Herrera was great.
Herrera took nothing for granted and remained respectful of Ruben’s talents.
"They all hurt," he said, when asked if Olivares’ punches had any effect on him. "I was thinking [of a knockout] but you can never be sure of that with Olivares," said the newly-minted world champ. The new champ said he had no game plan, but rather waited to see what Olivares would do and adapt in turn.
Yet after such a shocking and one-sided defeat, Olivares reacted strangely. He was smiling as soon as he got back to his dressing room. He gave the new champ his props, and the ‘United Press International’ post-fight report said Olivares seemed relieved the fight was over.
Or perhaps that his cut to bantamweight was over? After the fight, Olivares signaled his intentions yet again to move up to featherweight, following the same path as Eder Jofre, Fighting Harada and Lionel Rose before him, squeezing himself into the bantamweight limit until he couldn’t any more instead of leaving the division with his title.
Herrera had beaten Olivares in a fashion the now former champ could be proud of. But his reign did not reach the level of Olivares’ despite this win, which on film holds up as one of the best victories in the division’s history.
Herrera was also the last ever unified bantamweight champion: he lost his belts in his first defence against Enrique Pinder away from home in Panama. Pinder was then stripped of the WBC portion of the title, which Herrera picked up, and made three defences: two of them impressive, against fellow Mexican punchers Romeo Anaya and Rodolfo Martinez, and one of them dubious, in which Thai powerhouse Venis Borkorsor seemed to punch out a decision but found himself leaving empty handed after 15 rounds. Herrera suffered such horrendous facial injuries in that fight his wife said his appearance scared children afterward.
In the Rodolfo Martinez then stopped Herrera in four rounds, and the man that knocked out Olivares never won a title again. His pre-prime run, his short title run and his win over Olivares put him in contention for a spot in the top ten. But unlike Olivares he never distinguished himself over Chucho Castillo. He avenged the aforementioned KO loss with a tight decision win over 12 for the NABF title, not nearly as impressive a performance as Olivares in his third go with Castillo. Herrera’s title run was impressive but not astonishing. He was undeniably great, but not the greatest.
There is a case to be made that Herrera was a bad match-up for Olivares. An over-the-weight rematch was closer, but Herrera prevailed again over ten. But this is to be expected in a stacked era. To use a modern example to illustrate my point as succinctly as possible, you would struggle to find many boxing people who would rank Juan Manual Marquez higher than Manny Pacquiao on their all-time lists.
Like Pacquiao and Marquez, Olivares took his talents up in weight as he promised. His career was a mixed bag after that, boasting impressive wins over Bobby Chacon (2-1 in a trilogy), future lightweight champ Jose Luis Ramirez (KO2), and winning the WBA featherweight title.
But up in weight, the dominating master of old was replaced by a sometimes vulnerable, undersized and past-prime puncher who could run out of gas trying his darndest to get the job done. Art Hafey pole axed him in five, Eusebio Pedroza picked away at him in 12, and when the super bantamweight division was created Olivares fell apart in an eliminator. That division was created too late for Olivares, who likely would have been perfectly built for 122lbs.
Perhaps his most famous fight is a defeat, a 14th-round battering from the legendary Alexis Arguello after a Herculean effort from Olivares in which he demonstrated much of the pure boxing and counter-punching ability he had dished out to Chucho Castillo in their rubber match.
Olivares lost his half of the featherweight crown that night, and never wore a belt again. Today, he runs some businesses and appears to have all his faculties. That trademark style can still be seen on the streets of Mexico City or at boxing conventions. From his appearance, Olivares appears happy and to be living well, a great thing as he was in many wars during his career.
But back to bantamweight, and those prime years. It’s no accident that Rafael Herrera and Chucho Castillo barely missed out on the top ten. And it’s no fluke that Lionel Rose sat pretty in tenth place. In order to be great you have to share the ring with the best possible opposition.
And more often than not, Ruben Olivares destroyed world class opposition, winning 61 fights before someone figured him out, and with six successful defences of the legitimate, unified world bantamweight title he beats out Fighting Harada and Eder Jofre for numbers.
Manuel Ortiz had more, but as I pointed out in the piece that argued Ortiz was fairly ranked at number six, sometimes numbers only tell half the story.
Olivares has the great Ortiz beaten on the quality of his opposition. And that, at least in this list, is the single most important criteria.
Do not think for a second that this list favours punchers. With Terry McGovern and Ruben Olivares in the top two spots - two fighters who coincidentally had very similar career arcs - you may think you have me figured out, but I can assure you there is no bias towards bangers.
If this top ten demonstrates anything, it’s that the bantamweight division has hosted arguably the most diverse array of stylists, some of the hardest pound-for-pound punchers, and some of more classy technicians and some of the greatest pound-for-pound fighters of all time.
There have been some other really great bantamweights in boxing history that I would love to see Ruben Olivares go up against, dream fights. One would be Ruben Olivares vs Carlos Zarate, two murderous punchers, Zarate was the first person to string together two 20+ knockout streaks in a row, the first one 23 knockouts and the next one 28 knockouts. So Zarate knocked out the first 23 people he fought to start his career, then he lost a few fights, and then knocked out the next 28 people he fought to end his career. I would also like to see Ruben Olivares vs Eder Jofre, Jofre only lost two fights in his entire career, he was 72-2, both losses were to Fighting Harada, Harada had Jofre's number. Hell, for that matter I'd like to see Ruben Olivares vs Fighting Harada, Harada was an all-time great bantam and a vicious pressure fighter. Do I personally consider Ruben Olivares to be the greatest bantamweight in history? It's hard to argue against it. He dominated the most stacked and dangerous era in bantamweight history, absolutely dominated it. Ruben Olivares always fought like every fight like it was his last, even in sparring he fought that way and guys had to often remind Olivares to take it easy. He had one of the best left hooks in boxing history and he threw it with bad intentions, to your head and your body. He was also good at feinting to make you think he was going to throw his left, luring you into a trap and blasting you with his right. At his best, Ruben Olivares was damn near invincible and a joy to watch.
Ruben Olivares vs Chucho Castillo, Ruben is seen here about to crack Castillo with a vicious left. They fought three wars against each other, Olivares won the series 2-1.
Comments
Carmen Basilio's left eye was a swollen mess after the second fight with Sugar Ray Robinson, but Sugar Ray couldn't put Basilio down, Basilio had a chin made of granite.
Carmen Basilio had some other great fights as well, he fought the great Billy Graham, a master boxer that was never knocked down in 126 fights, Art Aragon, the original "Golden Boy", and he fought the iron chinned Kid Gavilan, Gavilan was only knocked down twice in 143 fights, once by the murderous punching Ike Williams and once by Carmen Basilio.
Carmen Basilio Knocks down Kid Gavilan with a left hook
Carmen Basilio vs Art Aragon
Carmen Basilio's fists.
One last word about Carmen Basilio, he's one of my top favorite fighters of all-time, the guy was hard as nails, you couldn't break him. Basilio quickly established his relentlessly brawling, slugging style that was to become his signature, while fighting his adversaries. Never a stylish dancer or a deliberate tactician like fellow rivals Sugar Ray Robinson and Johnny Saxton, Carmen was a seemingly indestructible close-quarters puncher, who was impossible to intimidate and very nearly impossible to hurt. Basilio was not a tremendous puncher like Utah-born world middleweight champion (and also rival) Gene Fullmer, but Carmen’s perpetual attack of crowding out his opponents on the inside of exchanges made Basilio very successful in the boxing ring. Basilio’s enemies were never given time to rest from Carmen’s wicked, non-stop rushes. Basilio’s punches were solid and crisp, although they were not typically combustible. He wore his opponents down through both the cumulative effects of his endless punching and his superlative durability. To put it simple, he was a monster, guys today are damn lucky they don't have to face this guy.
Carmen Basilio, vicious pressure.
Frankie "the surgeon" Randall, another one of my favorites, he was the first man in history to beat the legendary Julio Cesar Chavez, who had a record of 89-0 at the time. Frankie Randall was also the first man in history to floor Chavez. Frankie Randall was a superb ring technician, he's nicknamed "the surgeon" because he operated on his opponents like a surgeon in the ring, the way he dissected them, beautiful pure boxing. His career was sidetracked due to drugs, but man could he fight.
'I Love My Job': The story of Frankie Randall
3-time world boxing champion and Morristown native Frankie Randall lived a life full of tragedy and triumph.
Known to the boxing world as "The Surgeon," Frankie Randall dedicated his life to the sport. From humble beginnings in Morristown, Tennessee, Randall went on to gain a multitude of championships and worldwide fame. With a career spanning more than three decades, Frankie Randall was a man who truly lived by his credo: "I love my job."
EARLY LIFE / AMATEUR CAREER
“My dad was born in Birmingham, Alabama. One of five siblings," said Frankie Randall's son DaMarcus. "My dad came from nothing, so he didn't really have a lot. His family didn't have a lot. My great aunt lived in Morristown, and he got sent to live with her when he was around eight, nine years old."
Frankie Randall grew up down the street from the Talley Ward recreation center in Morristown and would go every day to play ping-pong. Occasionally, he would peek into the boxing gym. He was noticed by Talley Ward boxer Matt Snowden who convinced him to be a part of the boxing team.
“We picked him up three days a week to go to boxing practice and he was quick and fast, and I could see he was going to be a heck of a fighter,” Snowden said.
The Talley Ward team was headed by Coach Dick King, and under the tutelage of King, Frankie began his amateur career at the age of nine. It wasn’t the start the new duo was hoping for. According to King, Frankie “got whipped in his first four or five fights,” and after every loss, Randall cried, quit, then came back.
Randall’s perseverance paid off and his fledgling career began to gain traction. After a few years of climbing the amateur ranks, the young fighter dropped out of school and decided to fully dedicate himself to the sweet science.
Randall would frequently fight at the Golden Gloves Arena in Knoxville where he caught the attention of fellow Southern Golden Gloves fighter Barry Audia.
“Army had this boy, and the minute he comes in the door at The Golden Gloves Arena down there, he's running that mouth. 'I'm bad news for all 132’s.' I think, ‘132? That's Frankie Randall. Oh, I'm gonna love this.’ He came in their showboating and Frankie's just taking his time and the boy probably won the first round. Second round, Frankie hit him with two straight right hands dead on the chin. He fell like a sack of potatoes,” Audia said.
From losing his first five fights, Frankie went on to win five Southern Golden Gloves titles. In 1980, he found himself in the finals of the Olympic Trials tournament.
His opponent for the gold medal match was Joe Manley from the famed Kronk Gym in Detroit. A program known for its top-class opposition.
Frankie was hanging tough through the first two rounds of the finals, but in the third, a left-right combination from Manley floored Randall. He was able to beat the count and see the final bell, but the victory went to Joe Manley.
Randall settled for the silver but went home knowing he had a bright future in the sport. Frankie Randall finished his impressive amateur career in 1982 with a record of 220 wins and 16 losses.
EARLY PRO CAREER
On February 4, 1983, Randall began his professional campaign at the Knoxville Golden Gloves Arena against another debuting boxer, Curtis Gholston from Kentucky.
The 450 people in attendance witnessed the Morristown native deliver an impressive three knockdowns. The final one came from a crushing straight right that knocked Gholston out in the second round.
With his first fight in the professional ranks in the books, Frankie Randall was off to the races in his prize-fighting career.
Two years later, Randall found himself with an impressive record of 23-0 and had garnered the nickname of "The Surgeon."
“When he was in the ring, it was like an operation. The way he operated in the ring, it was pretty classical,” DaMarcus said.
With his perfect record, Frankie was in range for a world title fight. Standing in his way was number one ranked and former world champion, Edwin Rosario.
Defeating Rosario would put Frankie in line for a championship match, and he wasn’t going to let the pressure of fighting a former world champion get to him.
“It won't change my style any at all. It won’t change my attitude. He used to be a champion. So, I'm willing to get in there and perform to my best," Randall said.
Frankie came out strong to start out the 10-rounder, but Rosario took over down the stretch.
After a tough 8th round, Randall was able to make it back to his corner and finish the fight. The fight was scored 98 and a half to 98 in favor of Rosario.
Half of a point. That was all it took to stop the undefeated run of Frankie Randall. His record now stood at 23-1. His world title aspirations paused.
It would be three and a half months before Randall stepped into the ring again. He dispatched Keith Jackson in the fourth round at Talley Ward in October 1985. Two months later, he would do the same to Efrain Nieves in the second.
Things seemed to be going well for Randall’s comeback. His previous two victories ranked him in the top 15 in the world, but an incident in February of 1986 threatened to put Frankie’s career on hold.
Frankie was approached by an undercover narcotics agent posing as a local businessman who asked him to deliver some marijuana. Randall agreed. Frankie Randall was arrested for the sale of half an ounce of marijuana to an undercover police officer in Morristown. If convicted, he faced a year in jail. Randall was released on a $5,000 bond and pleaded guilty to two simple possession charges.
Presiding over Frankie’s case was Judge Eddie Beckner, a member of the board of directors of the Morristown Boy’s Club. During the proceedings, Beckner told Randall, ‘All the little boys that looked up to you, you’ve let them down.’
The judge fined Randall $2,000, confiscated his vehicle, ordered him to speak about drug abuse at local high schools, and hold a fight where the proceeds would benefit the Boy’s Club.
In lieu of the proposed 11-month 29-day sentence, Randall served only two months, with the remainder of the time spent on probation and training for the benefit fight.
When asked about his leniency on Randall, Beckner responded, “I’ve been on the bench 10 years, and that boy expressed as much remorse for his wrongdoing as anybody I’ve seen. The circumstances of his life as well as his obvious remorse for his wrongdoing were such that I doubt he’ll be a repeat offender.”
Randall’s benefit fight was on May 30th, 1986, against the formidable Sammy Fuentes.
The bout was a swift affair.
A straight right from Randall in the second round sent Fuentes crashing to the canvas, knocking him out. After the fight, Frankie gave a special shout-out to Judge Beckner.
“I’d like to say hello to everybody in Morristown, Tennessee for being behind me, standing beside me and giving me myself back and like say, happy birthday to Judge Beckner in Morristown,” Randall said.
With the second-round knockout of Fuentes, Frankie’s career was back on track, and he soon found himself with the opportunity to put some national gold around his waist.
The opponent standing across the ring from Randall for his U.S.B.A. Lightweight championship fight was Freddie Pendleton, whom Randall had defeated the year prior after cuts on Pendleton’s head caused the fight to be stopped.
After the full 12 rounds, the outcome of Frankie Randall’s first professional title bout was left in the hands of the judges. The result was a draw, and Frankie was undeterred by the outcome.
“I put forward I think a great effort in the fight. It was a title fight, something I always wanted. I'm still here, I still think I’m the number one contender in the lightweight division. All the lightweights out there see my effort. I'm not running, I'm coming,” Randall said.
After his draw with Pendleton, Randall won five in a row and found himself ranked highly in all three major organizations. An opportunity at a world championship remained elusive for the Morristown fighter.
Another route to a championship match would be gaining the North American Boxing Federation title whose champion was automatically ranked very highly by the World Boxing Association. So, Frankie Randall once again found himself in contention for a national championship against Primo Ramos.
This bout was also a swift affair.
Ramos sent Randall slumping onto the canvas, and he was counted out with 30 seconds left in the second round. All of Frankie Randall’s world championship hopes crushed under the weight of a single left hook.
COMEBACK
Frankie Randall bounced back from his loss with a nine-fight win streak, but it seemed the spotlight had diminished on his once-promising career. His name now relegated mostly to the TV guide listings in the newspaper.
During the midst of his second comeback, Randall had another run-in with authorities. In August of 1989, Frankie Randall was found guilty on two counts of selling and delivering cocaine, once again to undercover officers.
He was given two ten-year sentences to run concurrently at Brushy Mountain State Penitentiary. In total, Frankie Randall spent 14 months behind bars.
“That's one thing about my mom that she didn't sugarcoat anything. She explained to me what was going on. Most parents would try to hide that, and my mother didn't do that. I always knew the truth. There was never 'Daddy’s gone away,' it was 'Daddy’s in prison,” DaMarcus said.
Frankie Randall’s time in prison not only cost him his championship ambitions, but according to him, it also cost him his home and marriage.
Frankie Randall was released from prison in October of 1990. Shortly before his stint at Brushy Mountain, his contractual interest was sold to Morristown doctor, Dan Hale.
“My brother contacted Dick King about buying his contract. Well, Dick was very easy to convince to sell the contract, and I think it was $26,000 that my brother paid for his contract. The problem was, he didn't tell him that Frankie was going to jail. So, Frankie was going to jail for about a year and a half and the contract ran out while he was in jail," said Don Hale, Frankie's former manager.
The Hale brothers knew they needed proper promotion if they were going to get Frankie a world title.
They visited with the likes of Joe Frazier and Gerry Cooney before finally signing with Don King, who promised Randall a world championship match if he could beat some name fighters.
After a few tune-up fights under Don King Promotions, Randall once again faced off with Edwin Rosario for the number one ranking in the junior welterweight division.
Frankie Randall vs. Edwin Rosario II would be part of the very first fight card to take place at The Pyramid in Memphis, Tennessee.
Early in the second round, a flurry of punches put Rosario down. It was a short-lived victory for Randall, because in the final ten seconds of the very same round, a right hand sent Frankie down this time. Resilient, Randall rose to beat the count and make it back to his corner.
The fight continued into the seventh when another flurry from Randall backed Rosario into a neutral corner. One of Rosario’s cornermen jumped into the ring, towel in hand, signaling the end of the fight. Randall and Snowell embraced, but the victory was more than redemption for Randall’s first professional loss.
“That's what got him to be number one across the board in order to fight Julio Cesar Chavez,” said Aaron Snowell, Frankie Randall's former trainer.
JULIO CESAR CHAVEZ I
51 fights. 48 wins. 11 years. That’s what it took for Frankie Randall to finally get his very first world title opportunity.
"He waited for a long time to get his title shot. He was one of those individuals that waited his time. He made some mistakes in life, and he came the hard way, but he stayed the course,” DaMarcus said.
Frankie Randall’s opponent was the WBC Light Welterweight Champion of the world and living legend Julio Cesar Chavez, who boasted an unheard-of professional record of 89 wins, zero losses, and a draw.
“Boxers were scared of him. I mean, that's just a fact. You know, when you have a record like that, and he was knocking people out, left and right. When Frankie signed to fight him, I knew Frankie was a good fighter, but I just didn't think Frankie could pull it off,” said former boxing promoter Thomas "Tank" Strickland
Frankie Randall came into the fight against Chavez as a 17-1 underdog, but the aura of Chavez didn’t faze Randall’s team.
“When you look at guys as a trainer, you can see certain skill sets that a person has. Teamwork makes the dream work and it's always about the team that you have. We just had a great team,” Snowell said.
Randall versus Chavez headlined the very first boxing card at the MGM Grand Garden Arena.
“Nobody gave Frankie a chance of winning that fight. You knew that Frankie was going to give Chavez all he can handle. If you look at the fight, you see how Chavez would continue to try to press Frankie. Frankie would come right back and score again. That's the way it was entire fight,” Hale said.
Frankie Randall made it into the championship rounds against the legendary Chavez, and most observers had him ahead on the scorecards. Nothing is ever certain in boxing and to pull off the victory, Snowell knew that Frankie would have to pull off something that had never been done before.
“We know, at some point in time to dethrone a great champion, we were going to have to knock them down,” Snowell said.
Studying tape from Chavez's draw with Pernell Whitaker, Snowell concocted a plan to set up Chavez to be hit with a straight right hand.
In the 11th round, just like they had trained for, Randall hit Chavez with a perfect one-two combination, knocking down the legendary Chavez for the first time in his career.
“To me that, that knockdown was more than just one punch. That knockdown was his whole life. That knockdown for him was defeating all the odds. Coming up in Birmingham, being moved away from your siblings, I think that knockdown represented who we are as a family,” DaMarcus said.
Chavez made it to the final bell, and the two warriors awaited the judges' decision.
"Frankie had laid his head backwards on my shoulder, and I was telling him that God’s going to bless you," Snowell said as the decision was announced.
“The winner and new champion, Frankie ‘The Surgeon’ Randall!”
Frankie Randal became the first man to defeat Julio Cesar Chavez and in doing so, captured the WBC Light Welterweight championship.
Frankie Randall christened the MGM Grand Garden Arena with one of the biggest upsets in boxing history.
“It’s like all these dreams have come true. I’ve been working hard for so long, and it all paid off. We worked hard at it, and we got it. We got the opportunity and I’m the champ now,” Randall said.
JULIO CESAR CHAVEZ II
The aftermath of the Chavez victory was tumultuous for Randall. Along with his newfound fame, six days after defeating Chavez, he married his long-time friend Janice and lost his father.
The rematch with Chavez loomed on the horizon, a mere 3 months after their first encounter.
The fight was set, on May 7th, 1994 at the MGM Grand Garden Arena. This time, DaMarcus would accompany his father to the match.
“You know, I would lead him out, I'd go back to the dressing room, get my composure, then I might have come out in the later rounds. He knew that I was anxious. So, even before the fights, he would always let me know he was okay,” DaMarcus said.
The rematch began as the first fight had ended: with Frankie getting the upper hand on Chavez.
“First of all, Frankie beat Chavez, more the second fight than he did the first fight. He was getting ready to knock Chavez out," Hale said.
By the end of the eighth, Randall and Chavez were still standing toe-to-toe and trading blows, and right before the bell, a clash of heads opened up a cut above Chavez's eye.
“The headbutt was crucial. If you look, when Julio butted heads, Julio was shaking his head, meaning if a fighter does that, that means they don't want to fight. They quit. Flip Hamansky, who was the doctor, had stepped up on the apron of the ring to look at him, and the rule in the WBC rulebook at the time says that the fighter that’s not bleeding on the butt, they get one point taken away,” Snowell said.
The fight was stopped on Hamansky’s recommendation due to the headbutt and went to the scorecards.
With the point deduction for the headbutt, Julio Cesar Chavez was declared the winner.
“I feel like the whole play of this whole ordeal was going based on Chavez, Chavez, Chavez. I was a champion in my heart, and in my spirit, I know that I’m still a champion. People saw the fight. I feel like I've done a very tremendous job. Right now, I want to take a vacation, let myself heal up. I went to my father's funeral. I got married and my father died on the same day. I need a break. I haven't had time to even be myself,” Randall said.
Randall vs. Chavez II was the final bout where the headbutt/point deduction rule was used by the World Boxing Council. Frankie Randall hoped to get a third fight with Chavez in the aftermath of their first two bouts, but it never materialized.
"The sad part is, Chavez was never ever going to fight Frankie again in their prime. King wouldn't let him at that point,” Hale said.
The next step for Randall was fighting for the WBA version of the world Light Welterweight championship on the undercard of Julio Cesar Chavez’s next fight. Frankie’s opponent was reigning champion and southpaw Juan Martin Coggi.
“Juan Martin Coggi, the great champion, he was champion over 6 years. Frankie had that chip on his shoulder everything to prove,” Snowell said.
The chip on Frankie’s shoulder proved useful as he would knock the long-reigning Coggi down three times in the fight en route to becoming a world champion twice in the same year.
Frankie Randall began 1994 in relative obscurity and closed out the year a two-time world champion, and had cemented himself as part of boxing’s elite.
DEMONS
Outside of the ring, Frankie Randall was a kind and generous man to those that knew him.
“Frankie would give a person a shirt off his back. When he rose to the top, he helped a lot of different people that were struggling in Tennessee, because he was once there," Snowell said.
However, Randall wasn't without his demons.
“Alcohol problems. Drug habits. Struggles with addiction. It's something that we're not proud of. If he was here, he wouldn't be proud of that," DaMarcus said.
It went as far as Frankie getting drunk the night before fights.
"The first time I knew anything about it, we were fighting in Monterrey, Mexico, and the number one contender was “Rocky” Rodney Moore out of Philadelphia," Hale recalled. "After the fight, I’m in the back and Fred Jenkins, who was Rodney Moore’s trainer, comes over and starts putting his finger in my chest and said, ‘Okay, Don, what you got him on?’ I said, ‘What are you talking about, Fred? We don't have him on anything.’ He said, 'Well, I know you do, because we saw him every night this week coming in drunk, and people would have to carry him into the hotel. Last night at five o'clock someone carried him in the hotel. He was so drunk he couldn't walk.’ That night he destroys Rodney Moore.”
DaMarcus believes what his father experienced during his early life contributed to his demons.
“Being a kid from Birmingham, five siblings, coming up in the 60s, not having a lot, in Alabama during segregation times, getting split up from the family, your mother gets buried, you don't get to go to the funeral. I think those are some of the things that haunted my dad the most," DaMarcus said.
There were times in Frankie's life when he tried to quell his demons, going through long stretches of sobriety in the process.
"We put him in drug rehab. Then he stayed with me, and for six months, he was clean. I was thrilled with what was happening. He was training. He was looking good, feeling good. Don (King) took him down to Florida to train. He went to a party with Hector Camacho, so the story goes, Hector said, ‘Frankie, let's go ride around.’ and there he was, gone again," Hale said.
Regardless of his life outside of the ring, between the ropes, Frankie was still a world champion.
After two successful title defenses, Randall found himself standing across the ring from Juan Martin Coggi once again.
"He was winning the fifth round, and there's a headbutt. No blood. Coggi sticks the glove up to his eye like he's hurt. He goes back to his corner. The corner is yelling in Spanish to go down. Coggi lays down and will not move, will not get up,” Hale said.
Coggi was eventually transported out of the arena on a stretcher. The fight went to the scorecards and due to a second-round knockdown by Coggi, he was declared the winner.
Frankie had once again lost his championship, but this time, he was granted a third fight with a man that defeated him under dubious circumstances.
“We had to go down to Buenos Aires to get the title, Juan Martin Coggi’s home country. In that fight their heads clash again and this time, Frankie fell out. The funny thing, I was saying ‘Frankie get up, you can't win like that.’ He stayed down there for a minute. He started winking his eye and got up, but we ended up capturing the title again down there," Snowell said.
Frankie “The Surgeon” Randall became a three-time world champion, but a mere week after regaining his title, was convicted of driving under the influence.
To make matters worse, his urine test for the third Coggi fight tested positive for numerous substances including cocaine, according to the Argentine Boxing Federation.
Despite his most recent setbacks, Frankie Randall kept his championship and would be defending his WBA light welterweight title in a homecoming of sorts at the brand-new Nashville Arena in January of 1997.
“The fight in Nashville, I don't think he was ready for it mentally, physically. He wasn’t training as hard. He was probably not living the best of lifestyles,” DaMarcus said.
Don Hale took Frankie and his wife out for dinner and made sure Frankie was back in his hotel room by 10 pm.
"I was told later that he left at 11 o'clock and came in stumbling drunk at five o'clock in the morning,” Hale said.
Randall's night out played a huge factor in his fight with Khalid Rahilou.
“I noticed that the end of the fifth round Frankie got caught with a few shots. In the 11th round, Frankie was still ahead on all three scorecards, and they stopped the fight because he was too tired to continue,” Hale said. “Once he lost the title, he lost a lot of desire at that point, and he started fighting for money.”
After his loss to Rahilou, Frankie took an 18-month sabbatical from the ring.
He returned in July 1998 and racked up two victories before dropping a 10-round decision to Oba Carr. That defeat began a seven-fight losing streak for Randall.
“When that's all you know, it wasn't about the wins and losses at that point, it was about survival. It was about making money. It was about getting a check. It was about using your craft. Because your craft used you,” DaMarcus said.
JULIO CESAR CHAVEZ III
By 2004, Frankie Randall had lost nine out of his last 12 fights and his former rival, Julio Cesar Chavez, was in the middle of a retirement tour.
“Jose' Sulaiman called me and told me he wanted Chavez to have a fight because Chavez was broke, too. He said ‘I want to have a fight where he can make some money’, and said, ‘I'll pay Frankie $100,000 to come fight him.’ So, we took the fight,” Hale said.
A decade after their first encounters, Frankie Randall finally got his third match with Julio Cesar Chavez. No championships were on the line, only pride.
“Frankie trained for the fight. Nothing like what he did before, but I mean, he was in decent shape compared to what it had been, and we knew fighting Chavez in Mexico you know, winning the fight probably wasn't an option at that point,” Hale said.
Frankie’s team would look a bit different for the rubber match with Chavez. His son DaMarcus would act as a cornerman and would help his father down the stretch after a particularly brutal low blow.
“Don Hale looked at me and he's like, 'He's about to quit,' and me personally, I couldn't let him do that. So, I got up in the ring. I worked his corner. I told him, it's just me and you. Whatever you do, don't quit. Keep going, finish the fight. I could tell from that moment that he knew it was just me and him. He was looking in my eyes and I know he didn't quit because I got up in that ring. That's something that I'm going to carry with me until I’m gone,” DaMarcus said.
Julio Cesar Chavez won the decision, but Frankie stayed on his feet to hear the final bell. The two fighters embraced, closing the book on their decade-long rivalry.
Frankie Randall continued fighting until the following year. His final match would be at Gund Arena in Cleveland, Ohio against junior welterweight contender, Craig Weber.
“Fighting Randall, you know, he’s older, but he’s still dangerous. I have to be at the top of my game. He was past his best, but Frankie Randall is Frankie Randall,” Weber said.
Craig Weber defeated Frankie Randall via a sixth-round TKO. After 22 years as a professional fighter, Frankie “The Surgeon” Randall retired with a record of 58 wins, 18 losses, and 1 draw.
LIFE AFTER BOXING
“Retirement. You know, he went through some hard patches. He went through some rough times. He was in and out of jail a little bit through bad choices, bad decisions, dealing with addiction. Then things started to happen. He wasn’t the same individual anymore. His mind started slipping. You could tell something wasn't right,” DaMarcus said.
DaMarcus and his family checked Frankie into a facility in Chattanooga to get him the mental help he needed. While there, Frankie was diagnosed with Boxing Dementia.
“The early symptoms are changes in behavior and personality. So, it's subtle things in the beginning. It's not severe memory loss, and severe Parkinson's symptoms right in the beginning. At the last stages, you have very severe cognitive deficits. Your body falls apart. Your body could be injured from the sport, but now you're very stiff. You can have Parkinson's like shuffled tremors, loss of balance, and then also have loss of bodily functions,” said Dr. Monica Crane of Genesis Neuroscience Clinic.
As Frankie's health began to deteriorate, his family moved him from the facility in Chattanooga to be so they could be closer to him.
“I watched my dad die twice. I watched my dad die when they diagnosed him with that, and then I watched him pass away physically. That was something that took a toll on me. It was hard to walk in a room and your hero not know who you are. He didn't know who I was,” DaMarcus said.
After nearly a decade of living with dementia, Frankie Randall died on December 23, 2020.
“When Frankie passed everything was taken care of. They did a beautiful job with the services and burying Frankie. His son Marcus really, really took care of him in the end, like a real son who Frankie loved.”
“There is no better perseverance story than Frankie Randall,” Audia said. “He had to endure a lot of ups and downs, and he made it. World champion. How many people can say they were a world champion? Not very many.”
Frankie Randall's mantra was "I love my job." It's something he said repeatedly during training and carried with him every time he stepped into the ring.
"That's something I have tattooed on my arm. It’s his favorite quote," DaMarcus said. "He gave his blood, sweat and tears to the sport of boxing. So, that's something I truly believe that he lived by. I don't think he would have been as great as he was if he didn't love his job.”
While Frankie was on top, he worked with many young fighters, including a young Floyd Mayweather Jr.
"I always said if Frankie could have just beat the demons, he could have probably been one of the all-time great trainers because the kids loved him. He loved the kids, and he knew what he was doing more so than any trainer that I was ever around,” Hale said.
To his son DaMarcus, Frankie Randall is far more than just his accomplishments in the ring.
“My name is Frankie Randall, by the way. You know, that’s something that took me a long time to grasp, to fully understand. It was something I ran from, but my name is Frankie DaMarcus Randall," DaMarcus said. "That's my dad. To the world, he was a great boxer. He was good at his craft, but at the end of the day, that was my dad. He was my hero. He was everything."
The poster from the first Julio Cesar Chavez vs Frankie Randall fight, Chavez was a legend had a record of 89-0 and was on a mission to try to achieve a 100-0 record at the time.
Frankie Randall floors Julio Cesar Chavez for the first time in Chavez's career, it was the first time Chavez had ever been knocked down in 89 fights, this is an epic moment in boxing history, Chavez had a chin made of pure steel. Chavez got careless with his defense and Randall caught him flush with a straight right, Randall actually had good power.
The next world champion.
Fighting out of the Vancouver boxing club at 9'6 1400 lbs. The Eyak Enforcer.
1948-76 Topps FB Sets
FB & BB HOF Player sets
1948-1993 NY Yankee Team Sets
Fascinating fighter! 👍
Frankie Randall was a great amateur, he lost to Joe Manley in the 1980 Olympic trials, he turned pro in 1980 and had one fight and didn't fight again until 1983. He built up a good record over the next two years against decent competition, he caught his first break when he fought the legendary and lethal puncher Edwin Rosario, he gave Rosario all he could handle but Rosario got the decision. It was evident from the Rosario fight that Randall had what it takes to be a great boxer. A out a year later he fought the dangerous Freddie Pendleton to a draw. Then Randall started getting in trouble for drugs and it looked like he was done, but he returned to the ring in 1991 with Don King as his promoter. He slowly rebuilt his confidence and fought Edwin Rosario and this time Randall stopped Rosario. Then in 1994 Frankie Randall got a shot at Julio Cesar Chavez, and Chavez was 89-0, nobody thought Randall had s chance at beating Chavez, but Randall seemed very confident, and Randall fought a brilliant fight, he jabbed well, moved well, tied Chavez up and broke his rhythm. When it came time for toe to toe exchanges, Randall got the better of Chavez and beat him to the punch with pinpoint counters. Then in the 11th Chavez got sloppy and Randall floored him, it's one of the most famous knockdowns in boxing history because Chavez was tough as old leather boots and had never been floored in 90 fights. Randall knew he was ahead and boxed smartly in the final round and rightfully got the decision, handing Chavez his first loss and etching his name in the boxing history books. After the fight Randall was very classy and said he would give Chavez a rematch. The rematch happened three months later and in the second round Randall rocked Chavez with a fight hand and Chavez just about went down, but recovered well. It was a close back and forth battle up until the 8th round when their was an accidental head butt initiated by Randall that opened up a cut on Chavez's forehead which led to referee Mills Lane halting the fight and deducting a point from Randall. The fight was then stopped and it went to the scorecards and Chavez was awarded the decision. It was a close fight but I thought Frankie Randall was ahead by a hair and should have been the winner. Anyway, that's boxing. At his best, Frankie Randall was one heck of a fighter, always enjoyed watching him operate in the ring.
Frankie Randall "the surgeon."
Barry McGuigan, "the Clones cyclone". He was one tough Irish son of a gun, threw vicious body shots. He dethroned the legendary Eusebio "the Scorpion" Pedroza, who had held the WBA featherweight championship for 7 years, it was a very iconic win. There was a lot of fighting going on at the time in McGuigan's home country of Ireland and the country would settle down to watch him fight, they used to say "leave the fighting to Barry." He had a short prime, had some personal issues and the loss of his dad hit him really hard, but he was an excellent technical pressure fighter that packed a good punch.
BEST I FACED: BARRY MCGUIGAN
Although Barry McGuigan’s career was fleeting, he accomplished a lot in a short space of time. Arguably, the supremely popular fighter’s greatest accomplishment was bringing Ireland together during “The Troubles” in the 1980s.
McGuigan was born in Monaghan but grew up in nearby Clones in the Republic of Ireland, on the border of Northern Ireland. His father was from the north which made the younger McGuigan eligible to box at the 1978 Commonwealth Games. He returned home from Edmonton with a gold medal. Two years later, he fought at the Olympic Games, losing in the third round.
He decided to turn pro, though had some big decisions, largely because of the goings on in Ireland.
“The support of my hinterland was all in Northern Ireland,” McGuigan told RingTV.com. “So I thought, when I go pro, I could do one of two things: I could go to Dublin and box out of the Boxing Union of Ireland, which wasn’t an organization of any great notoriety. There wasn’t great support for professional boxing.
“But in the north, for some reason, there was great support for professional boxing. So I thought, well, I can move half-a-mile up the road and be in the north, live with my family, train in Belfast, be promoted in Belfast but I had to take out citizenship and that was a whole different ball game because we were right in the middle of the worst period of politics, or what is euphemistically called, ‘The Troubles.’ There was a lot of tension, murders. There were certain sections you couldn’t go and I was an Irish guy, taking out British citizenship.”
McGuigan made his debut in May of 1981, winning by second round stoppage. He surprisingly lost a decision in his third outing to Peter Eubank (Chris’ older brother). Unperturbed he returned and, after two wins, avenged the loss by stoppage.
Tragedy struck the following summer when, after beating Young Ali, his opponent fell into a coma and passed away several months later. With a heavy heart, McGuigan continued his career and won the vacant British featherweight title in the spring of 1983. Later that year, he won the European title, stopping future junior featherweight titlist Valerio Nati in six rounds.
All the while he refused to get involved in politic matters.
Three more European title defenses followed – all by stoppage – and a hard earned decision over battle-tested Juan Laporte prepared him for a fight with long-reigning WBA 126-pound champion Eusebio Pedroza.
The fight took place at the home of Queen’s Park Rangers F.C. in front of 26,000 rabid patrons. Several celebrities attended, including Irvine Welsh and Lucian Freud. An audience of 19 million people tuned in on TV to watch the fight.
McGuigan fought the fight of his life and was rewarded, much to his fervent fans’ delight, with a unanimous decision. The win earned him 1985’s BBC “Sports Personality of the Year.”
He returned to joyous scenes.
“The Greatest moment of my life was coming home to Belfast and Dublin,” he said proudly. “75,000 people gathered in one hour in Belfast. Two days later, in Dublin, 200,000 people came out to see me. It took me one hour to go the length of O’Connell Street, up to the Mansion House, the greatest day of my life. To know what it meant to people both north and south of the border, it was phenomenal. 15,000 in my hometown, they drank for a week.”
Just three months later, McGuigan returned to action to face the unbeaten uber-talented Bernard Taylor, his mandatory challenger. The only blemish on the American’s ledger was a draw against Pedroza. They fought at McGuigan’s home away from home, the Kings Hall in Belfast.
“I closed (Taylor) down, cut the ring off, put him under pressure,” he said. “I knew was going to lose possibly four, five rounds but I closed him down and he couldn’t take the pressure. He couldn’t fight at that pace.
“I looked at several of his fights beforehand and, every time I watched him, I thought, ‘How the hell am I gonna beat this guy?’ because, every time I looked at him, he was so fast. But I knew he couldn’t fight at my pace, so we started off and I just walked him down, head movement, close tight guard and I could feel him as I was hitting him.
“In the seventh round, I buried a left hook to the body, nothing, the noise was deafening, I gave him a little shove and, when I gave him a shove, he made a noise and I knew he was gone. That was right on the bell. I went back to my corner and remember Harry Carpenter (ITV commentator) saying, ‘McGuigan’s got a smile on his face.’ because I knew I hurt him. I didn’t think he wasn’t gonna come out. It completely broke him.”
Next up was tough Dominican fighter Danilo Cabrera, who was stopped in the penultimate round in Dublin.
In the summer of 1986, McGuigan headed to Las Vegas – on the undercard of Thomas Hearns-Mark Medal/Robbie Sims-Roberto Duran – he met Steve Cruz outdoors at Caesars Palace with temperatures reaching 110 degrees.
At the halfway point, McGuigan was ahead but the searing heat sapped him of his energy and down the stretch he faded. He was dropped in the 10th, penalized a point for low blows in the 12th and touched down twice in the 15th round. He lost a close decision – by one point on two of the scorecards – and later spent the night at a local hospital due to dehydration. The fight was voted THE RING Magazine’s “Fight of the Year.”
Almost two years later, he returned to kick off three stoppage wins before he lost to Jim McDonnell (current trainer of James DeGale) in May of 1989. McGuigan decided to retire from boxing, despite being just 28 years old. He did so with a record of 32-3 (with 28 knockouts) and never returned.
“I was burned out physically and mentally,” he explained. “My appetite for the game, and all of what happened with my ex-manager, it made me sick to my stomach.”
There were two men the all-action whirlwind would have liked to have faced: Sandy Saddler and Azumah Nelson.
“I’d have loved to have fought Sandy Saddler. He was a great great fighter, one of the greatest of all-time. (Azumah) Nelson, that would have been a great fight, hands up. He was a better fighter than me; his career defines him as better than me. His longevity was greater than mine.”
For several years, McGuigan served as a boxing pundit, initially on ITV and later on Sky Sports. He was inducted into the International Boxing Hall of Fame in 2005.
He decided to take a new path in 2008, after a chance meeting with a young Carl Frampton at the National Stadium. He was scouting for son Shane, who was going to compete in the Irish amateur championships.
“I decided to manage guys. I’d resisted, then I saw Frampton and thought, I’m going to look after this guy; he’s unbelievable,” he said excitedly. “Something about him, I saw this kid box twice and I was like, I love this guy.”
Things quickly snowballed and the two remain together.
McGuigan, now 56, is married to childhood sweetheart Sandra. The couple live in Kent and have four children. He is the CEO of Cyclone Promotions and manages Frampton. Two of his sons Blane and Jake also help run Cyclone Promotions. Shane no longer boxes but is a renowned trainer, who runs McGuigan’s Gym in Battersea, working with WBA super middleweight titlist George Groves, Josh Taylor and Frampton, among others.
McGuigan graciously took time to speak to RingTV.com about the best he fought in 10 key categories.
BEST JAB
Charm Chiteule: The best jab was either Pedroza or Charm Chiteule. Chiteule was very good; he blackened my eye. He was very slick, tough durable. I hit him with a lot before I got him out of there.
BEST DEFENSE
Eusebio Pedroza: Lateral movement, spatial awareness, head movement, knew where you were, stepped back, stepped in, he could block. I think I caught him once with a good left hook to the body at the end of the fifth round. He was very hard to hit. He was brilliant on the inside, really good at riding a punch, blocking, slipping, rolling his head, pulling back, in and out. Very, very tasty on the inside, very sophisticated.
BEST CHIN
Juan Laporte: Laporte had an incredible chin, unbelievable chin. Nobody ever put him down. I had him out on his feet in the 10th round. He said he’s never been so badly hurt. He fought Julio Cesar Chavez; he fought so many world champions and I think he was stopped at the end of his career. His corner retired him. Nobody ever put him down. Nobody actually stopped him in the ring. He was definitely the toughest. A chin like granite.
FASTEST HANDS
Bernard Taylor: “The B.T. Express”, incredibly talented, 440 amateur fights, lost six times, won the Pan-American games, won everything, amazing talent, very very quick. Without a doubt, he was the quickest.
FASTEST FEET
Taylor: Again, he was so quick, beautiful feet, into punching distance, fire off a volley of shots, get back out again and step to the side. Never went the same way, often guys that move are predictable. They had a preference. Often guys who are orthodox jab and push off the right foot and walk into a right hook or overhand right, whereas he would go this way or that way, equal fluidity, forward and back, in and out, side to side, brilliantly talented, just floated around the ring.
SMARTEST
Pedroza: Far better, just clever, smart, hold you, pull you back. I never stopped. I kept on coming. I put him under pressure. He was very smart, very clever, great spatial awareness. He was a master on the inside; he’d lean on you, shove you, just to create space. He was guilty of lots of misdemeanors. What he’d do is, he’d create enough space; he’d hook and hit you with his hook and forearm. He was clever and subtle. He’d put your head down and pull you into an uppercut. It’s a real skill. I’m not promoting it but his ability to fight on the inside was really tremendous. I couldn’t swallow properly for two or three days (after the fight). His boxing intelligence, that’s your DNA; it’s innate. He had that ability, miles better than anyone else I fought. Although I was young, I was a young hungry lion who put him under pressure. He didn’t start to fade until after the halfway stage. Taylor was more talented but not in the same league.
STRONGEST
Laporte: Laporte was the strongest, strong as a bull. Physical strength, naturally strong. He went up to 140 pounds; he fought Kostya Tszyu, Charles Murray, very strong guy. Physically, although he weighed 126, he was as strong as a welterweight. Really good fighter, a bit of a wasted talent.
BEST PUNCHER
Laporte: Laporte by a mile. He could punch, nearly took my head off. He hit me in the ninth round and, when I was a kid, I lived in the diamond in Clones. My mum and dad had a grocery business. My (now) wife’s family owned a hardware store, a beautiful little town of 3,000 people. There was also a toy shop owned by Mrs Keenan. He hit me and I’m coming forward and throwing the jab and, in the 10th, I stepped in and his head went back, so I thought, “I’ll try it again.” As I came forward I saw red. It was his right hand coming at me; he beat me to the punch. I didn’t know where I was. I thought I was in Mrs Keenan’s shop. That’s the God’s honest truth; I thought, “What am I doing in Mrs Keenan’s shop?” That’s how much he hurt me. I grabbed a hold of him. I don’t know how I cleared my head. (Referee) Harry Gibbs was going, “Break, you’re holding.” I could hear this noise but I held on and then eventually he broke us up. He swung a few more shots and I managed to get myself together and got to the end of the round. That was the hardest I’ve been hit. It was the most bizarre feeling. It took me back to my childhood. I came back to my corner and Eddie Shaw used to do this anytime he thought I was hit with a good shot: He had a big sponge and put it in ice cold water and threw it and shocked you back into your senses.
BEST SKILLS
Pedroza: Back to Pedroza, you can go around in circles and talk about how brilliant Bernard Taylor was but skill is about winning consistently, 19 successful title defenses, seven years as champion of the world, one of the longest reigning featherweights. He was a phenomenal fighter. I was privileged to fight someone that good.
BEST OVERALL
Pedroza: Without a doubt, he was one of the greatest fighters of all time. I pail compared to Eusebio Pedroza. He was one of the greatest featherweights of all time. I’m proud to share a ring with him.
it ain't gunna happen.
I don't know why they haven't been deleted, I'm sick of looking at them too!
Barry McGuigan's win over the great Eusebio Pedroza was iconic, but what made it even more special was the fact that he dedicated the win to Young Ali, the fighter that had died after Barry McGuigan knocked him out in 1982.
Barry McGuigan and Young Ali in their 1982 fight
'I didn't know if I wanted to box again': Barry McGuigan opens up on tragic fight with Young Ali who died after six months in a coma in 1982... as he recalls emotional tribute to Nigerian after winning world title against Eusebio Pedroza
Barry McGuigan has reflected on his tragic 1982 fight with Young Ali, who died after six months in a coma - admitting he considered hanging up his gloves.
McGuigan won by knockout in the sixth round at the World Sporting Club in London but sadly the Nigerian didn't regain consciousness, and the former featherweight said the trauma had a devastating effect on him.
He eventually decided to carry on with his career, and going into his massive world title bout with Eusebio Pedroza in 1985, he made it his mission to win the fight and dedicate it to Ali after the final bell.
McGuigan told the Gary Newbon Sports Show with Jewson: 'I was thinking about him all week and [I thought] if I win and I get over this hurdle then the first thing I’ve got to do is reflect back to that horrible night in 1982 where I had the tragic fight with the kid.
'After that I didn’t know if I wanted to box or not. If I can do this sort of damage to someone… it happens, but it’s such a tragedy and it's the one thing we as boxing fans don't want to ever happen again.
But it happened before and it will happen again. I happened to be in a very unfortunate position but I wanted to dedicate the fight to him.'
McGuigan went on to beat Pedroza by unanimous decision at Loftus Road and he recalled how emotional he became as he called out Ali's name, insisting he wanted to remember him at the most important time of his career.
I was crying by the time I got round to mentioning his name because I was thinking about it and (presenter) Harry Carpenter was able to articulate what I was saying to the 19 million people watching on the BBC,' he added.
'It was a very sad time for me and at the pinnacle of my career I wanted to remember him. It was really important time for me and that was a really important moment.'
Barry McGuigan vs Eusebio Pedroza, 1985. Like I said, Pedroza was a legend, he was WBA featherweight champion for 7 years, from 1978-85, he defended his title 18 times, a long dominant run. Pedroza was nicknamed "El Alacran" or "the Scorpion" because of his toughness and stamina in the later rounds. This 15 round fight was an exhausting, blistering affair that pitted a rising star against one of the all-time greats. Surviving legendary punchers such as Rocky Lockridge and Juan LaPorte, Eusebio Pedroza had an iron chin. He also posed a considerable leap in competition for Barry McGuigan with his considerable ring IQ, speed/reflexes and vast experience. We see in the first 4 rounds of the fight Pedroza utterly outbox McGuigan, using beautiful lateral movement with flicking jabs. His ability to drop his left shoulder to confuse Barry and throw in a right cross when pivoting was sublime. His tripling of the jab worked initially to dissuade the powerful Irishman who sought to close the enormous distance. Pirouetting and swivelling around McGuigan, he was like a matador to a bull. Round 5 saw Barry intelligently throw crunching left hooks to Pedroza’s lofty frame from underneath, as Pedroza threw his jab. This negated the superior jab and movement from the champion but also banked body shots that slowed the older fighter. The jab starts to lose its snap and he is now holding his left glove low after throwing the jab. The overhand punch is an excellent tool for fighters trying to reach over punches and guards whilst leveraging the whole body. Mcguigan landed a few glancing overhand shots but in round 7, he dropped Pedroza with an absolutely textbook overhand shot. Pedroza slowed further after this knockdown. The playing field was now equalised and Pedroza was forced to engage with Mcguigan. Mcguigan was able to capitalise with frightening pressure; out scoring and bullying the champion at points. The spirit of Pedroza shown through as his blazing hand speed continued to overwhelm the challenger at points in rounds nine and thirteen. Down the stretch the grimace on Barry Mcguigan face displays his violent intent as he continues to club at the Panamanian in the liver. He does not let him off the hook until the final bell sounds. This win from the Belfast Ireland native came almost entirely through grit and determination. In his ultimate career performance, he unseated the greatest Featherweight of the modern era who was defending his title for the 19th time. An iconic win in boxing history, and a very classy gesture for McGuigan to dedicate the fight to young Ali afterwards.
McGuigan vs Pedroza.
Barry McGuigan celebrates after dethroning the great Eusebio Pedroza.
After dethroning Pedroza, McGuigan made two successful defenses of his title, against Bernard Taylor and Danilo Cabrera. He knocked Taylor out in the 8th round and TKO'd Cabrera in the 14th round. You know, boxing is a brutal sport, you don't play boxing, and Barry McGuigan's face after the Cabrera fight was a reminder of the brutaliity. After the Cabrera fight, McGuigan fought Stevie Cruz in 110-degree heat in Vegas, the fight was a grueling toe to toe war and Cruz won the decision and the WBA featherweight title, McGuigan didn't fight for two years after that because his father died. He later made a comeback and appeared in four fights and then hung it up for good with a record of 32-3. In his prime Barry McGuigan was one tough Irish SOB, aggressive as hell, and threw vicious body shots at his opponents. McGuigan is a hero in Ireland, his immense popularity transcended boxing over there because long-standing violence between Catholics and Protestants in Ireland subsided when McGuigan stepped in the ring, the popular saying of the day was "leave the fighting to McGuigan."
Barry McGuigan after the Cabrera fight.
A few photos of McGuigan in his prime.
Barry McGuigan, routes to the body.
Ruben Olivares, from Mexico, some people consider him to be the greatest bantamweight in history, his nickname was "rock-a-bye" because he put people to sleep. He was a monster knockout artist in his prime, a vicious fighter that was responsible for some of the most violent knockouts in boxing history. His record was 61-0 with 58 KO before he was finally defeated for the first time. This is part one of his story.
The All-Time Great Bantamweights: No 1: Rubén Olivares
Ruben Olivares 89-13-3 (79 KOs)
If Ruben Olivares was a cartoon character his victims would be animated with their souls rising out and upwards of their bodies as they careened helplessly to the mat.
To watch Olivares hit his opponents gave the appearance not of a kids' cartoon but a gory horror flick; he would render them extras in a Zombie movie with a well-timed left hook or right cross. Their arms would drop, their legs would stiffen, they’d stumble in a waking dream, then drop like the undead after a shotgun blast to the head, unconsciousness a welcome respite from the nightmare of trading punches with the greatest Mexican knockout artist in boxing history.
Those lucky enough not to be knocked silly would be ground into dust by one of the most aggressive and well-balanced boxer-punchers that ever lived. If you cared for your vital organs, the bones that made up your cranium or the teeth you used to chew your food, you would do well to steer clear of the sweet science in the first place. If you were reckless enough to want to try a career in the fight game, you’d do even better to steer clear of Ruben Olivares.
Look at those numbers. Only ten men survived Olivares when he was in winning form. Padded? Nope, Olivares destroyed contenders like they were journeymen, he even crushed a fighter great enough to make this top ten.
Terry McGovern was a savage. Ruben Olivares was the greatest.
The Rise
The sheer amount of excellent Mexican fighters that sprung up in the 60s and 70s shows us what an excellent fight scene there was in the country, one that had produced world-class fighters before and all-time greats, but no truly great world champions. At bantamweight, Jose Becerra and Raul Macias had fleeting but impressive runs, and pound-for-pound ‘Baby’ Arizmendi and ‘Kid Azteca’ flew the flag.
Yet Mexican greats are often given the same knock that Greg Haugen put on Julio Cesar Chavez, that their records are built against Tijuana cab drivers (even if those cabbies are given credit for their toughness retrospectively) and even in this series the ninth-ranked bantamweight of all time - Carlos Zarate - got a bit of the same treatment from yours truly. But when looking at Olivares’ his superb run before he even challenged for a world title stands up to scrutiny.
He won the Mexican amateur championship but missed out on the Olympics, and with a style like his - and a life far removed from riches - the pro ranks were inevitably going to be roughed up by the boy who would be known in years to come as ‘Rockabye’ Ruben. Legendary trainer and manager Arturo ‘Cuyo’ Hernandez took Olivares under his wing, and the teenager from Mexico City would terrorise everyone he fought on his run to the championship.
It was a sprint along a road littered with broken bodies. Four years. 53 fights unbeaten, with one draw avenged by knockout. These are the numbers we are dealing with.
Jose Medel was a notable antagonist in the tales of no less than three of the great bantamweights in this top ten. In 1968 he was not in his prime but was still a danger to young prospects. He had recently put Lionel Rose on the canvas in a losing effort, and was less than two years out from giving Fighting Harada a tough fight in his second in a world title challenge. He was losing more often that not at this time (1-3-1 in his 5 bouts since challenging the great Harada) but had not been stopped since Eder Jofre put him down and out six years prior. Olivares stopped him in 8 rounds.
Octavio Gomez had beaten Olivares in the amateurs. He was a fledgling bantamweight with a reported 20-1-1 record when Olivares knocked him out in five. Years later, Gomez proved his worth by surviving Danny ‘Little Red’ Lopez (arguably the hardest ever puncher up at featherweight) en route to winning a ten-round decision. He also fought the likes of Eder Jofre, Rogelio Lara, Romeo Anaya and once beat the great bantamweight Rafael Herrera. He was one of many excellent Mexican bantamweights of the era.
Salvatore Burruni was as savvy and experienced a fighter as anyone plying their trade in ‘68. With an intimidating 94-8-1 record, the former world flyweight champion and reigning European bantamweight champion, Burruni was a broad shouldered Italian. Strong, skilled and knew how to survive. He had been stopped just once in his career, retiring due to an injury. He shipped a few left hooks from Olivares and turned his back on him, finding the whole experience so traumatic he refused to talk about it afterward. He never lost again, and retired as European champ, earning five more victories even after the shellacking Olivares gave him.
Tough Filipino Ernie De La Cruz dropped Olivares with a body shot in the second round before Olivares battered him to a ninth-round stoppage. Cruz dropped world champ Lionel Rose in his next fight and lost a tight decision. He was then stopped in ten by Chucho Castillo, before his countryman Ben Villaflor - a humongous super featherweight - beat him on points over ten, ending his world title aspirations once and for all. But he was clearly matched tough and was able to hang in there against world class fighters, so his giving Olivares a few tough rounds is no mark against the Mexican.
There were some talented Japanese fighters not called ‘Fighting’ Harada as well around this time. One of them was the great Masahiko’s brother, Ushiwakamaru Harada, who on film looks like a pale imitation of his great sibling but mixed it up with many bantamweight contenders. The pressure style is the same, but the nous, balance and speed his great brother possessed isn’t there.
Still, he was game, and provided an excellent canvas with which Olivares could splatter leather over, a superb Joe Louis-esque right uppercut-left hook combo sending the Japanese contender seemingly down and out. Ushiwakamaru may not have had his brother's skill but he had his heart, gamely rising and trying his best to fight back. He was saved by the referee in the second round, outgunned and outclassed.
Kazuyoshi Kanazawa was out of his depth when Olivares blasted him in two rounds. But we will meet him again later.
Undoubtedly the best of the Japanese contenders Olivares met in his early days was Takao Sakurai. Olympic gold medalist and one half of a highly-technical world title match with Lionel Rose, Sakurai was one of those weird beasts: a seemingly feather-fisted fighter who showed he could dig when it mattered most. He’d sat Rose down in his sole world title challenge, and he also put Olivares down when the two met in a world title eliminator in 1969.
A straight left was the shot which put Olivares down. The Mexican prospect claimed after the fight to be confused by Sakurai’s southpaw stance. This was an Olympic gold medalist, of course, a highly-skilled operator who had a 15-round world title bout under his belt.
In the small footage readily available of this fight, Olivares seemingly adopted the pressure style well known as a staple of Mexican fighters. Bearing that in mind, it was unsurprisingly body shots that won him the fight. Sakurai bravely rose three times from crunching blows that seemed to fold him in half. In the sixth, he could take no more, and Olivares had booked himself a meeting with Lionel Rose.
The ‘Oxnard Press Courier’ said that Olivares gave the finest showing of the night in dusting Sakurai, emerging as "a likely challenger but unlikely threat to world bantamweight champion Lionel Rose".
By the time they fought Olivares would be a slight favourite with the bookies. By the time the fight was over he would be a national hero.
Olivares vs Rose
Lionel Rose had already achieved enough at bantamweight to make the tenth place in this list. Nothing he did after he defended his undisputed world championship against Olivares got him there, for he never made the weight again. Thus, Olivares stepped into the ring at the ‘Fabulous Forum’ in Inglewood against an all-time great, the hardest way to win a world championship.
Rose had done the same, beating Fighting Harada in Japan to earn the strap, and considering that the successive bantamweight champions that held the unified title from Eder Jofre to Rose all featured in this top ten, you could argue that this was the strongest hand-off from great to great that any weight class has ever seen.
An op-ed in the ‘Van Nuys Valley News’ (California) saw Rose’s reign as such:
"Since then, of course, Rose has found a gold mine here in Los Angeles, where is becoming rich beating Mexican contenders. He got a good payday for whipping Jose Medel in a non-title fight at The Forum. Then came 70 Gs for his title defence against Chucho Castillo. Remember, the fight was close and ended in a riot."
That bout - in my eyes a classic contest - as well as the Medel ten-round fight, were looked at extensively in the essay that honoured Rose as the tenth greatest bantamweight of all time. But both fights were undeniably competitive. Both men could punch, both were Mexican, and both were excellent technicians, Castillo more well-rounded, Medel a peerless counter puncher.
Olivares was no less technical, although he was more ferocious and less measured than his compatriots. The same op-ed also felt that Rose’s luck would run out against Olivares.
Both men were 21, phenoms bang in the middle of their respective primes. A classic styles clash; the majestic boxer versus the danger man.
A ‘Sports Illustrated’ article shed light on Olivares’ personality outside the ring. He was a colourful character, but what seemed like a fun side to the monster that came out in the ring would prove a ball and chain around his neck as the years passed:
"Olivares is a relisher of bright clothes, shiny jewelry, soft lights and hard drink. He liked to go shopping. The last time he fought in Los Angeles he came with one suit of clothes and an empty suitcase."
Manager Arturo Hernandez was quoted in the same article. He said: “He’s homesick. All he wants to do is knock out Rose and go home."
George Parnassus secured his chance to stage the bout with an offer of $100,000 to the champion. An Associated Press report noted that Parnassus was hosting the fight on neutral ground, but that isn’t entirely accurate. The veteran promoter had staged many fights in California, and Rose was respected there. But Olivares, a popular Mexican, would have been the crowd favourite, and perhaps the owners of ‘The Fabulous Forum’ might have wanted to avert a repeat of the chaos that ensued after Rose beat Castillo on points if the bout went to the cards.
“Don’t worry about a riot," said Olivares, “I’ll knock Rose out within nine rounds”.
Olivares was not just a phenom but a prophet; Rose was out-gunned from the start.
Olivares baited him first, feinting with a jab to the body. Rose, savvy, defensively astute, didn’t bite. Olivares circled his man and jabbed with him. Rose had seen this before, the skilled Japanese boxer Sakurai who had dropped both him and Olivares giving him the same look. As he did then, Rose walked his man down, using his superior size to bully Olivares in close, chopping away with short jolts in close.
Rose might have had the larger frame, but Olivares was the stronger man. In a sequence that looks remarkably similar to Chucho Castillo downing Rose towards the latter stages of their fight, Olivares caught Rose with a right hand and sent him sprawling face first to the canvas.
Rose survived, but the following rounds saw Olivares amp up the aggression battering Rose to body and head, Rose’s reflexes first clawing back the space and time he needed to survive, then dulled by the debilitating body blows that Olivares dug into him.
Stunned by this, his legs sapped from underneath him, the once slick Rose was reduced to a large target for Olivares to tee off on. Down twice more, his trainer Jack Rennie, who loved him like a son, jumped into the ring to save him from further punishment. Olivares had got the job done in five rounds, quicker than even he had predicted.
Rose, always classy, had nothing but good things to say about the man who had smashed him down and taken his belt from him;
“He’s a great bantamweight," said Rose, quoted in a ‘United Press International’ report the day after the fight. “But the bantamweight division is hotly contested and the title is very hard to hold. Olivares will find that out but if he’s the fighter I think he is, he could hold the title a long time."
Rose was also quoted by ‘Sports Illustrated’, where he went more in depth as to why he lost the bout: "He kept hitting me under the rib cage," Rose said, "I couldn’t get my breath."
That certainly explains why Rose didn’t move around as much as usual, which in turn left him exactly where the Mexican wanted him to further his body assault.
Although Olivares had landed his left hook early and dropped Rose in the second, he was obviously still respectful of the former champ’s talents, simply saying, “in the middle of the third I knew I was boss”.
And the boss of the division, a weight class which Rose rightly said was a tough one to remain the boss of for long.
There was only one thing on Olivares’ mind after the fight, and it wasn’t continuing his legacy.
“Come, vacation with me, Acapulco. Great time, great place! Come, I treat you to the works-wine, women, song.”
While this pattern would repeat during Olivares’ career, he gave the wariest of his camp some encouragement.
“Do not worry," said Olivares, “I know when to work and when to have fun. Before the fight, I sweat. Now I play.”
Olivares would play in the ring as much outside, the canvas his sandbox, continuing that great lineage of champions; Jofre, Harada, Rose, and now Olivares.
All had lost their titles in the ring, even when the illustrious featherweight division beckoned. Defending their hard-earned championships seemed to mean more, even in the face of heinous weight cuts and a murderers' row trying to knock the crown off their heads.
Rose himself had struggled with the weight. In fact, he never fought at 118lbs again, a young pup when king and finding the throne uncomfortable to sit on as he filled out.
Against Harada, he put forth one of the best exhibitions of pure boxing skill within the confines of the weight. Against Jesus ‘Chucho’ Castillo, he was one half of a truly great world title clash.
Against Olivares, he was on the receiving end of arguably the worst beating suffered by an all-time great in his prime at the hands of another.
Fellow boxing historian Matt McGrain, writing for ‘The Sweet Science’, summarised Rose thus when ranking him sixth in his own countdown of the great bantams:
"Perhaps a little unfairly I would identify Rose as the weak link among these four great champions; but this is a little like identifying Ringo as the weakest member of The Beatles. It’s better being the worst musician in the greatest band ever to have played than the best musician in your mother’s basement."
To take the analogy further, if Rose was Ringo then Jofre was Paul; versatile, measured, respected. Harada was George, affable, well-loved, with a resume that only gets more impressive the deeper you look.
Olivares then, was Lennon. The badass of the bunch, violent, unpredictable.
In his first defence, Olivares would take on another excellent bantamweight, and unlike the analogy posited above, he was actually given the moniker of ‘The Boxing Beatle’. Like Jose Medel, Alan Rudkin has featured prominently in our look at other members of this top ten, a terrific fighter whose ability to give the greats a tough test only adds to their legend.
He features in the tale of Ruben Olivares too. What the Mexican did was not only more impressive than those legendary bantamweights, but terrifying.
PART 2:
The first defense
Alan Rudkin had won two bouts following his razor-thin decision loss to Lionel Rose, defending his British title once and scoring a quick first-round KO in an over-the-weight bout. By all intents and purposes he was still the contender who had put forth a solid case to be christened the main man. He had also taken the great Fighting Harada the distance. He was quick, unnaturally tough and could box as well as he could scrap, and as a scrapper he was without equal even in these deep and dangerous bantamweight waters.
Thus he was as surprised as anyone when Ruben Olivares was installed as firm favourite over him, reportedly laughing at the bookies.
"Olivares is a puncher and a comer. What I mean is that he will come to me. I won’t have to chase him. I like that type of fighter. You will see I can stand my ground and fight too," Rudkin told ‘The Liverpool Echo’.
Rudkin had the ghosts of world title fights past in his head though, and was concerned about how the fight might go if it went the distance.
“I’ve lost twice for this title, and both times I was the victim of a hometown decision," he said. “So this time, I’m going out to knock out Olivares, and I am sure he is going to try and do the same to me."
Rudkin did as he said, taking the fight to Olivares early, perhaps hoping he could push the champ onto the back foot and dampen his power.
Rudkin’s manager Bobby Neill told the ‘Liverpool Echo’ that Alan had decided to have a go at Olivares, adding, “It was against my advice."
Just as in the first round against Harada, Rudkin found himself on the deck, a "stinging left hook" doing the damage. Reports said this was the first time Rudkin had been down, not quite accurate but then the knockdown against Harada seemed as much a product of tangled feet as it did a good punch.
In the second round, Olivares rammed a right hand into the pit of Rudkin’s stomach that had him on his knees gasping for air. Rudkin fired back with a right to the heart, but Olivares had a whiff of blood and was impossible to stave off. A left hook flattened Rudkin with 30 seconds left in the round. He was out.
“I have never been hit so hard in my life," said Rudkin, knocked out for the first and only time in his career. “All of a sudden I found myself sitting on the canvas. I don’t even know how it happened."
Olivares blasts Rudkin
Olivares blasts Rudkin
Rudkin also weighed up Olivares against the previous greats he had faced: “He is a much better fighter than the other champions I fought, Lionel Rose and Fighting Harada in all regards. It would have to be a real good puncher to slow him down.”
An ‘Associated Press’ report said there was "no competition left in field" after Olivares dismissed Rudkin. This was how he was perceived at the time, as having cleaned out the division in just two world title bouts.
There were other challenges out there though.
The ‘Liverpool Echo’ saw it like this:
"Meanwhile, back in Mexico, they will be developing another mighty midget to let loose on the boxing world. They say that good bantams grow there on trees and Rudkin will certainly subscribe to this theory. Mexico also produced Jose Medel, who stopped Walter McGowan in six rounds; Jesus Castillo, who stopped Evan Armstrong in two - and that accounts for Britain’s three top-ranked bantamweights - and the incomparable Vicente Saldivar, who beat Howard Winstone three times and probably still gives him nightmares. On reflection, perhaps we would do better to let these swarthy little men fight it out among themselves."
This demonstrates how the 60s were truly the golden age of Mexican boxing. Dangerous and skilled contenders and champions spread over the lighter weights, not just defining Mexican boxing for the era, but for the rest of all time.
Olivares fancied taking a chance at the two titlists up at featherweight, either boxer-puncher Shozo Saijo of Japan, or tough pure boxer Johnny Famechon of Australia.
A Mexican writer instead called for Olivares to defend his title against one of his own.
“I prefer to fight guys other than my countrymen," is what he reportedly said in response to that question.
The number one contender had fought on the undercard and came out victorious. Much to Olivares’ chagrin, he was a compatriot. As Rudkin called for, he could punch. And when Olivares’ fighting pride got the better of him, he would be the man who would define Olivares’ career.
The Chucho Castillo Trilogy
Let’s roll it back. Not to the beginning of Olivares’ career, but to the lower end of this top ten.
When I started writing it, Chucho Castillo sat proud in eighth place. Above Lionel Rose, who he had that closely contested loss to. Above Carlos Zarate, who in most lists sits among the gods in the top five. Above Panama Al Brown, who eventually took Castillo’s spot.
The great ‘Chucho’ Castillo
The great ‘Chucho’ Castillo
I did not discover anything about Castillo that made him fall a few spots and out of the top ten. I discovered he was much as I thought; a truly great bantamweight. That he just missed out is not an indictment of his quality as a fighter. The lower half of the top ten was just that hard to call, much as I have found the top five to be.
In simple terms, without Jesus ‘Chucho’ Castillo, Ruben Olivares might not make the top five of this list, let alone be standing on top of the mountain, fists clenched, ready for any potential usurpers.
Castillo had gone 5-1-2 since his riot-causing loss to Lionel Rose, drawing with Jose Medel (who he held a win over) Ushiwakamaru Harada (who Olivares had stopped) and going 1-1 with top-notch Mexican Raul Cruz.
But the jewel in the crown of this run, which may look more impressive numbers wise when you consider it was in the space of a calendar year, was a third-round knockout of Rafael Herrera.
Then just a domestic rival, Herrera would eventually become the third of the holy trinity of Mexican bantamweights. And while Boxrec lists it as a simple ‘TKO’, Herrera himself was much more honest in his summary of the bout when talking to Dan Hanley for ‘The Cyber Boxing Zone’ in 2012.
Hanley asked whether Herrera had been stopped on a cut:
"This fight was for the Mexican bantamweight championship and Castillo was the number one contender in the world. I took this fight very seriously and thought that if I could beat Castillo then I could actually beat world champion Lionel Rose. But, there was no cut. This was the first fight that I was actually knocked out."
So Chucho Castillo was about as good as it got during an era where the bantamweight division was as good as it got.
When the men finally met to sign the contract, they started their civil war earlier than expected.
“Olivares is weak on defence and he has never had to go 15 rounds," said Castillo. “If it goes into the late rounds, I should beat him."
Olivares, no stranger to showing his colourful character, fired back in kind,
“There is room in Mexico for only one champion. And I intend to show I am the champion of my own country as well as the world.”
Reports claimed they didn’t like each other. They had fought on the same cards before, and with one unified champion and one true number one contender it is not hard to see why these two proud Mexicans resented each other.
‘Sports Illustrated’ saw Castillo and Olivares’ reasons for their mutual hatred;
"When Castillo became the champion of Mexico in 1967, Olivares challenged him. Castillo told him that he would have to wait his turn. Finally a fight was set, but when Castillo was given a shot at Lionel Rose's title late in 1968, Olivares was again told to wait. 'He knows I'll beat him,' said Olivares. When Castillo lost a controversial split decision to Rose, Mexico almost severed relations with Australia. The Mexican fans who were crammed into The Forum in Los Angeles that night rioted for over an hour. 'Why all the fuss?' said Olivares. 'Rose won. I was surprised the voting was that close.' Ruben didn't win any popularity contests in Mexico after that. Then stories circulated that Olivares was paying more attention to tequila than to training, and he became even less popular. Mexicans expect their boxing heroes to become drunks. It's something of a tradition. But they want them to wait until they retire."
Olivares might have been continuing with a steady training regime of gym work and partying, but the champion at least knew the qualities his top contender possessed:
“I know Castillo will be my toughest opponent because our national pride will be at stake in this fight”, Olivares said. “Castillo is a very determined boxer. I think he will give me a better fight than Lionel Rose did when I won the title, even though Rose beat Castillo."
Olivares also told the press that due to Castillo’s physical strength and punching power being superior to that of Rose he had not been cutting corners in training.
He had been to Disneyland in the days leading up to the fight. Olivares couldn’t resist extra curricular activities, even if he wasn’t up to his usual partying.
Castillo summarised his training camp thus: “I’m not going anywhere except to the gym and the [Inglewood] Forum." The challenger was a no-nonsense fighter.
Before the fight, Olivares’ record was lauded with terms such as ‘unbelievable’, due to his astonishing unbeaten ledger and his ginormous list of knockouts. His confirmed record going into his first fight with Castillo was 57-0-1 with 55 knockouts. He had knocked out every man he had faced, bar one who was saved by being disqualified instead, and had shown himself a man sure to tie up any loose ends with anyone who dared take him the distance. He had avenged that draw too, by knockout of course.
Castillo’s training was interrupted by his son falling ill in Mexico, but he returned to the United States, the bout not being postponed as a result. A month before the bout his father was killed in an accident.
“He has always been on the quiet side," said Castillo’s manager Geronimo Lopez, “but I have never seen him like this. He has been in a dark mood and refuses to see anyone."
Castillo still obliged reporters who asked him about his opponent:
"I'm only only interested in beating Olivares”, he said. “It is all I live for. Olivares is a loudmouth and not deserving to be champion. In Mexico, I am the popular one. I will beat Olivares and then the title will truly belong to my country."
Castillo was also banking on a chink in Olivares’ armour. He wouldn’t disclose exactly what it was, only that it was, “a big mistake I can take advantage of”.
Olivares said he would stop Castillo inside of two rounds.
The stage was set for a grudge match between two bantamweights at the peak of their powers. Both could punch, and both were technical. The champion had never tasted defeat, the challenger had and had come out better for it.
Olivares was making $100,000, the same price Rose set when he was champion. Mexican television rights were reportedly $75,000, astronomical for a bantamweight fight in those days. The Inglewood Forum was sold out, and readers of the ‘Van Nuys Valley News’ were told to check out the theatres showing the bout as getting a ticket was impossible.
Olivares vs Castillo had been billed as ‘The Mexican Civil War’. The fight lived up to its billing.
Olivares vs Castillo I
Both men feinted and prodded their way in. Characteristically Castillo took the back foot and Olivares was the aggressor. The champion got off first, bringing himself closer to Castillo with whichever hand was closest and bringing the opposite hand into play, catching the challenger off guard. But after two rounds Castillo had barely flinched, despite tasting leather more than once.
In the third Olivares stepped in again, but instead found himself down, a short counter right hand his poison. Was this the mistake Castillo claimed to have seen? Olivares sprung up immediately and tasted another right hand for his troubles, all before the referee could start the count.
Olivares proved Castillo wrong on a few counts. The opening Castillo saw was not Olivares’ downfall. Castillo hurt Olivares again in the 14th round, but found Olivares capable of slipping shots. The champion showed the ability to counter punch as well as the master.
And at the end of 15 rounds - where the challenger had predicted Olivares would be at his weakest - the champion retained, working hard after the knockdown to keep the pressure on Castillo and landing the more quality punches. No mean feat when faced with a master counter puncher like Castillo, who was competitive throughout.
Olivares had shown he was not just a front runner; he was of championship calibre and could defend his title over the distance against a highly-skilled fighter. Castillo had taken the champion's best punches and not come close to folding, yet Olivares had shown poise and a good engine.
Both men seemed to have lost none of their distaste for one another after the fight, but had gained a newfound respect a fighter only earns after bravely withstanding the other for 45 minutes.
“Only two other men have gone the distance against me and tonight was the first time I’ve ever gone 15 rounds. I don’t like Chucho, but he’s not a bad little boxer," said the champ.
“I knew he was good, but thought I was better," said a disappointed Castillo, adding that Olivares’ left hand was "positively the best I’ve ever seen…and felt".
Castillo called for a rematch.
“And he can have it," spat Olivares, as quoted by ‘Sports Illustrated. “He’s a good tough fighter and he gave me my toughest fight. He was in the super condition of his life. That’s what held him up. And he’ll never again be able to get into that kind of condition."
PART 3:
Olivares vs Castillo II
Olivares made no more defences between his fights with Castillo, instead fighting as a fully fledged featherweight for three bouts (3-0, 2 knockouts) while Castillo took on a stiffer test in defence of his NABF bantam title, beating yet another hard-punching Mexican Rogelio Lara by 12-round UD on a stacked card at the ‘Fabulous Forum’ which also featured Olivares in one of his featherweight bouts and welterweight great Jose Napoles.
Olivares was on hand for the Castillo vs Lara bout, and predicted an easier win second time round.
With Lara out of the picture, Castillo - still the number one contender - was granted his rematch, and was said to be "ripping into his sparring partners like a man getting ready for a do-or-die effort".
Castillo’s manager ‘El Conjo’ Lopez said his charge was approaching the rematch differently:
‘We boxed him last time and we lost. It was a case of block and punch and it was no good. This time will be different. It will be punch, punch and punch again, and Castillo can punch. Remember, he scored the only knockdown in his first fight with Olivares."
On the flipside, Olivares’ training sessions had some onlookers worried.
"The meanest 118lb hombre, this side of, well anywhere, is risking his crown tonight at [Inglewood] Forum against Chucho Castillo and the champ has looked bad enough in workouts that the odds have dropped him to only a 6-5 favourite."
"I’ll be ready tonight," said Olivares. "I saw something in the first fight and will score a knockout."
Olivares had predicted a stoppage in his first fight with Castillo, and it hadn’t happened. In fact, he had been the one on the canvas. One report labelled Olivares as happy-go-lucky. He was not concerned about his opponent.
As is in their first go, Castillo was seen as more introverted and serious. He was said to have looked solemn, and confided to his team that he would have to knock Olivares out to win.
The ‘Press Telegram’ asked Castillo to delve into his feelings on Olivares. Time had not been a healer:
"I laugh at him," said the challenger. "He makes me sick. In our first fight I had the only knockdown. I felt so strongly against him that I almost wanted to smash him again the second he got up. I went the whole 15 rounds with the guy before. So what makes him so great? Nothing. Have you seen him lately? He looks like a bum."
Hank Hollingworth, writing for the same publication, went on to describe why the bout was not just important for the fighters involved, but for the sport of boxing:
"The bantamweight championship is something sacred within itself if for no other reason that it involves MORE outstanding fighters than any other boxing division. Look at the heavyweights, for instance. Even somebody like Jerry Quarry has a chance for the title. Don’t even mention the lightheavies. A student of the game could go even further."
It is true that bantamweight has historically been a deep division full of killers. And that the unified championship came down again to Olivares and Castillo - the bona fide number one and two - speaks of the magnitude of this fight.
The result arguably made it even more special.
The first few rounds looked much like the first fight; lots of probing, feinting, trying to create an opening for a heavy blow. Olivares tried to go over the top with a right hand; Castillo responded with rights of his own, showing Olivares he was the master of that particular shot. Both men commanded centre ring and pawed with their jabs. Even without much to write about here, it remains a pleasure to watch these two masters.
Only one thing of note happened in those first few rounds, and the grainy footage doesn’t shed any light on how it occurred. The fighters and onlookers also seemed to disagree. But whether caused by leather or bone, the champion was bleeding.
"I hit him with a right hand punch," said Castillo, a case which is certainly supported by the film. Both the referee and Olivares saw a headbutt as the main factor.
changed the course of the fight. Olivares was his usual brilliant self but Castillo - as was reportedly his game plan - became the hunter. Both men exchanged punches in close in an engrossing battle of aggressive counter punching. Unlike the first bout, Olivares remained upright throughout. Castillo opened another cut underneath the eye with a right hand later on and try as he might, Olivares’ experienced trainer ‘Cuyo’ Hernandez could never stop the wounds from oozing.
But he was stopped, the contest halted in the 14th round when the crimson mask Castillo had gifted him turned opaque.
Referee Dick Young explained his reasons for stopping the fight:
‘It all started in the first round. Both men came together real hard and they butted heads. Castillo came out all right but Olivares had a slit over his left eye. He also incurred a cut on his left cheekbone. The doctor thought it wasn’t necessary to end the fight, so I went alone with him. It was bloody and messy in the ninth round but I saw no reason to finish the fight then, either. After all, it was for the title. However, in the 14th round, I had to stop it, as much as I didn’t want to."
The ‘Associated Press’ report gave credit to Castillo’s strategy, seeing him as "the expert in the later rounds in banging the body to bring the guard down and then sharpshooting the wounded eye".
The new champion said after the fight he knew this was his last chance to win the title.
"I think my combinations affected him," said Castillo. "I didn’t use many combinations in our last fight and he didn’t expect them this time."
The now deposed champion was indignant and played down Castillo’s efforts.
"Castillo didn’t fight me any different this time than last time, except for the butts."
This doesn’t ring true based on the footage. The first fight was a boxing match, and although no less technical, Castillo threw many more punches, and was more aggressive. Olivares accommodated him, true, but the words pre-fight from Castillo and his camp gave Olivares a strong clue as to his opponent's tactics. In the ring you see things differently, of course, and interviewing a fighter after losing his ‘0’ and his championship might not be the best time to get an accurate analysis of a fight.
Not that Olivares hadn’t fought well. Although there were concerns about his training camp leading up to the bout, he had met Castillo’s punches with his own and protested the stoppage. In the 14th round, one judge had him up, with the other two ruling it a draw. The champion had not been exposed, he had merely met the one challenger who was his equal technically and who could stand up to his punches.
The two best bantamweights in the world were now one apiece. You know what happens next.
Olivares vs Castillo III
"I only loaned Castillo my title and I’ll win it back by knockout within nine rounds."
It was the champion Chucho Castillo that first called for a rubber match, and hoped it would be held in Mexico City, but the Inglewood Forum was big business for George Parnassus and the previous two fights between them had sold it out. Both men took warm-up fights (both scoring early stoppages) and six months after their brutal, bloody rematch they met again.
Olivares was obviously confident of winning. But Castillo, once quiet, sometimes surly, seemed to lighten up despite the gold weight around his waist.
"I must be improving," he chuckled. "Last time Olivares said he’d finish me in six rounds."
Castillo was not resting on his champion status. He was said to be training hard, and even received a few pointers from the great ‘Sugar’ Ray Robinson. He was confident and assured, as always. The only thing that annoyed him?
"Why Olivares, why Olivares?" he asked. When pressed, he just repeated the question.
"The situation is this: Chucho Castillo may be the champion, but Ruben Olivares gets all the publicity", wrote Dan DeLong for the ‘Pomono Press Bulletin’.
Olivares might have looked past Castillo in their second fight, but his bravado could not be underestimated even after losing his title. He had told promoter Parnassus to line up world featherweight champ Kuniaki Shibata as soon as possible, he was that confident of winning back his title. The veteran promoter told Olivares to keep his mind on the task at hand.
Both men appeared to be in superb shape for their important rubber match. Dr Jack Useem of the California Athletic Commission said, "These two little fellows are two of the best conditioned athletes I have ever checked", at the pre-fight medical. Neither was leaving anything to chance.
Olivares might have been training hard for Castillo as well as having his eye on a title in a second weight class, but there was one thing he always had his other eye on.
Dan DeLong again: "Olivares is always busy with the ladies or something else. Sometimes he’s at the track, or walking through Mexico City, where Olivares is a hero, but it’s always back to the clubs and the ladies."
Not that Olivares’ ability to fight wasn’t what mostly kept him in the headlines.
One report said, "Boxing experts consider the muscular native of Mexico City as the best puncher the bantamweight division has ever known." Certainly a case can be easily made for Olivares in that discussion, but his rubber match with Castillo further demonstrates his placing here as the greatest all-round bantamweight of all time.
For in this fight, an almost carbon copy of their first meeting, Olivares showed resolve, adaptability, and a level of ring generalship not normally associated with pure punchers.
In another callback to their first fight, he also had to drag himself up off the deck to do it.
Castillo had played matador in the first fight, and the second saw him the bull with Olivares’ face the red rag. In this one, Olivares went against type, showing himself capable of a disciplined boxing performance, forcing Castillo to come to him.
Not that Castillo’s counter-punching abilities had disappeared upon him winning the title. Olivares got too eager in the sixth round and was sent down by a counter left hook. Castillo showed again that he was also a two-fisted puncher.
Olivares had battled through the blood when losing the title, and here he regained his composure as quickly as the mandatory eight count as registered. He fired off single shots and slipped under Castillo’s return fire, spun off and regained centre ring. He didn’t stay too long on the inside, and forced the counter puncher to follow him around.
In the 13th when the champion desperately tried to turn the tide he was met with a series of thudding body shots. At the end of 15 rounds, Ruben Olivares once again was world bantamweight champion, his jab and movement the difference in a decision that all reports saw as one-sided.
"I was never worried during the fight," said Olivares in his dressing room after the fight, flashing his signature toothy smile. "I was completely confident."
Castillo said he would be happy to meet Olivares again.
The ‘Associated Press’ report said there was no need. In winning the trilogy, Olivares had "slugged himself out of opponents".
This wasn’t quite accurate. But Olivares would never again box with the same verve and panache that he demonstrated in his third fight with Castillo.
Within a year he had been knocked out and lost his title for good.
The Final Three
When looking at Olivares’ early days I said we would meet Kazuyoshi Kanazawa again, and in Olivares’ penultimate successful defence the Japanese battler was the opponent.
Kanazawa was never the most consistent fighter, but he nailed some impressive scalps to his wall; tough Thai Berkrek Chartvanchai had recently held half of the world flyweight title, he survived an aging Jose Medel for ten rounds, and opened a nasty cut around the eye of dangerous Mexican Jesus Pimentel for a ninth-round stoppage win.
He had suffered stoppage losses to Ushiwakamaru Harada and future bantam titlist Rodolfo Martinez (as well as being blasted by Olivares in two rounds) but was 3-0 in 1971, winning the vacant Orient bantamweight title.
Olivares was said to be working hard and not counting out Kanazawa based on their previous meeting, but judging by the footage that seems hard to believe. Olivares seemed to be leading with power punches with little set up for much of the fight, and this coupled with the brave Japanese trying his hardest to win the title saw Olivares get himself into some bad spots.
Olivares’ attempts to put Kanazawa away saw him put down, half by a counter left hook, half by a shove. It was ruled a slip, but to my eyes looks a legitimate knockdown.
Later on in the fight, Olivares put forth a more educated effort, pressuring the challenger with his patented body shots. But in the 13th round Kanazawa exploded into a two-handed flurry which had Olivares stranded against the ropes, referee Jay Edson having more than one close look at the champion.
Kanazawa, tired at unloading his full arsenal on Olivares, threw a series of wide punches that a blind man could’ve easily avoided, and missed one flailing punch so badly he ran halfway around the ring and fell over. This gave Olivares some respite, and in the 14th round he upped his game, brought more pressure and Kanazawa flopped to the floor repeatedly, enough times that the bout was brought to an automatic end.
Olivares credited the challenger for his efforts, telling ‘The Pacific Stars & Stripes’ that he was a much improved fighter.
Kanazawa, who received much acclaim from the Japanese crowd for his brave efforts, had no regrets.
"I did my best," Kanazawa said. "Olivares was too strong for me."
Olivares would make his last successful defence back in Inglewood. His opponent, a perfect one, Jesus Pimentel, who has been a staple of this series despite never being in a world title fight.
In fact, he had been threatening a challenge of Eder Jofre, Fighting Harada and Ruben Olivares since the early 60s. His manager Harry Kabakoff seemed to seek more and more favourable deals for his man, and the fights inevitably fell apart. Lawsuits and dirt-slinging would ensue (often from both sides) and Pimentel would invariably go on another run of knockouts against outmatched opposition.
By the time he came to challenge Olivares, he was past his best. Gone was the undefeated terror of the bantamweight division, and in the opposite corner Olivares would see a battle-scarred man who had lost three bouts in three years.
That doesn’t sound like a particularly bad run. But when you consider that Pimentel had failed to outgun Kanazawa, been widely outscored by Chucho Castillo, and outworked by unheralded Filipino Bernabe Fernandez, the cracks in his game were as visible as the scar tissue on his face.
But Pimentel had drummed up interest in another big fight in his own inimitable way, racking up 15 wins in succession, 13 of them inside the distance, not one of them against a first-rater.
On a bill that also featured Jose Napoles defending his title against the underrated Hedgemon Lewis, promoter George Parnassus felt it was the ‘biggest’ of his career (although as one writer put it, the promoter almost always put out a quality product).
There was a rumour before the fight that Parnassus would gift the champion a brand new Cadillac if he won within five rounds. When the promoter scoffed at that idea, Olivares said, "If I don’t get the car from someone I intend to buy it myself."
Pimentel was first slated to challenge Olivares a year earlier. Olivares instead gave Chucho Castillo a rematch, and it will be no surprise to anyone that has read Eder Jofre and Fighting Harada’s installments to discover that Pimentel and his team tried to sue Olivares.
Even then, Frankie Goodman writing for ‘The Van Nuys Valley News’ in California predicted that Pimentel would be stopped in quick fashion if he were to challenge Olivares, adding, he "would be no match for the champion at this present time".
Pimentel seemed to acknowledge this before the fight.
"I feel real good," Pimentel told the ‘Associated Press’ reporter before the fight, adding in defeatist fashion, "but I’ve got to understand that years have passed."
But two Mexican knockout artists guarantees an interesting fight even if it transpired as to not being all that competitive. Olivares and Pimentel had over a hundred knockouts between them.
Olivares didn’t get rid of Pimentel within five rounds, but he boxed beautifully after being cut in some ferocious early exchanges. Realising Pimentel’s best chance was in a fire fight, the champion got on his toes, displaying more poise and intelligence than he had in his previous defence and harking back to his third fight with Chucho Castillo.
In the sixth he nearly got the stoppage, sending Pimentel half out of the ring. But after waiting so long for a title shot, the challenger wasn’t going to give in that easy, and fought his way back into the fight. Pimentel got his licks in, but Olivares was the general, and Pimentel’s loving manager Kabakoff pulled out the veteran at the end of the 11th round, knowing there was nothing his man could do to turn the bout in his favour.
"He didn’t get the car," said Pimentel after the fight. "Father time - you just can’t beat him", Pimentel added, before retiring. He stayed true to that decision, ending his impressive career with a 76-7 record, and an astonishing 68 KOs to his name.
"Pimentel has a lot of courage," was all Olivares said of his challenger. "Guts."
Guts are synonomous with Mexican fighters. Pimentel’s had been called into question before, but in the twilight of his career he had put forth a spirited effort against a fighter who was essentially a younger, bigger and better version of himself.
But his tendency to pull out of fights meant another Mexican was on standby lest Pimentel come down with a phantom illness before the fight.
Three months later, Rafael Herrera would be rewarded for his patience. Olivares would be punished for sticking around for too long, thoroughly outboxed and then flattened by a short left hook in eight rounds.
It begs the question: why not Herrera?
The G.O.A.T.
The first fight between Olivares and Herrera could be seen in some ways to be the perfect ending to Olivares’ time atop the bantamweight division. His last win at the 118lbs limit came against another legendary Mexican puncher, Jesus Pimentel, in his adopted home of California. And he lost his title to another Mexican, back home in Mexico City, his prime ending where it all began. The torch had been passed, or rather taken with thunderous punches.
Unlike Olivares’ previous loss to Castillo, there was no bad blood between these two Mexican warriors.
"I’m sorry I beat you," said Herrera to Olivares, "But I need the money."
Olivares was listless in this fight. Sluggish, his defensive radar seemingly switched off, and swinging wildly with his punches. On film, it looks a lesser performance than he mustered against Kanazawa in Japan, and in Herrera he was faced with a bantamweight of the highest calibre. At home, in a domestic dust-up in defence of the title he worked so hard to win back from Chucho Castillo, and yet Olivares was as poor as Herrera was great.
Herrera took nothing for granted and remained respectful of Ruben’s talents.
"They all hurt," he said, when asked if Olivares’ punches had any effect on him. "I was thinking [of a knockout] but you can never be sure of that with Olivares," said the newly-minted world champ. The new champ said he had no game plan, but rather waited to see what Olivares would do and adapt in turn.
Yet after such a shocking and one-sided defeat, Olivares reacted strangely. He was smiling as soon as he got back to his dressing room. He gave the new champ his props, and the ‘United Press International’ post-fight report said Olivares seemed relieved the fight was over.
Or perhaps that his cut to bantamweight was over? After the fight, Olivares signaled his intentions yet again to move up to featherweight, following the same path as Eder Jofre, Fighting Harada and Lionel Rose before him, squeezing himself into the bantamweight limit until he couldn’t any more instead of leaving the division with his title.
Herrera had beaten Olivares in a fashion the now former champ could be proud of. But his reign did not reach the level of Olivares’ despite this win, which on film holds up as one of the best victories in the division’s history.
Herrera was also the last ever unified bantamweight champion: he lost his belts in his first defence against Enrique Pinder away from home in Panama. Pinder was then stripped of the WBC portion of the title, which Herrera picked up, and made three defences: two of them impressive, against fellow Mexican punchers Romeo Anaya and Rodolfo Martinez, and one of them dubious, in which Thai powerhouse Venis Borkorsor seemed to punch out a decision but found himself leaving empty handed after 15 rounds. Herrera suffered such horrendous facial injuries in that fight his wife said his appearance scared children afterward.
In the Rodolfo Martinez then stopped Herrera in four rounds, and the man that knocked out Olivares never won a title again. His pre-prime run, his short title run and his win over Olivares put him in contention for a spot in the top ten. But unlike Olivares he never distinguished himself over Chucho Castillo. He avenged the aforementioned KO loss with a tight decision win over 12 for the NABF title, not nearly as impressive a performance as Olivares in his third go with Castillo. Herrera’s title run was impressive but not astonishing. He was undeniably great, but not the greatest.
There is a case to be made that Herrera was a bad match-up for Olivares. An over-the-weight rematch was closer, but Herrera prevailed again over ten. But this is to be expected in a stacked era. To use a modern example to illustrate my point as succinctly as possible, you would struggle to find many boxing people who would rank Juan Manual Marquez higher than Manny Pacquiao on their all-time lists.
Like Pacquiao and Marquez, Olivares took his talents up in weight as he promised. His career was a mixed bag after that, boasting impressive wins over Bobby Chacon (2-1 in a trilogy), future lightweight champ Jose Luis Ramirez (KO2), and winning the WBA featherweight title.
But up in weight, the dominating master of old was replaced by a sometimes vulnerable, undersized and past-prime puncher who could run out of gas trying his darndest to get the job done. Art Hafey pole axed him in five, Eusebio Pedroza picked away at him in 12, and when the super bantamweight division was created Olivares fell apart in an eliminator. That division was created too late for Olivares, who likely would have been perfectly built for 122lbs.
Perhaps his most famous fight is a defeat, a 14th-round battering from the legendary Alexis Arguello after a Herculean effort from Olivares in which he demonstrated much of the pure boxing and counter-punching ability he had dished out to Chucho Castillo in their rubber match.
Olivares lost his half of the featherweight crown that night, and never wore a belt again. Today, he runs some businesses and appears to have all his faculties. That trademark style can still be seen on the streets of Mexico City or at boxing conventions. From his appearance, Olivares appears happy and to be living well, a great thing as he was in many wars during his career.
But back to bantamweight, and those prime years. It’s no accident that Rafael Herrera and Chucho Castillo barely missed out on the top ten. And it’s no fluke that Lionel Rose sat pretty in tenth place. In order to be great you have to share the ring with the best possible opposition.
And more often than not, Ruben Olivares destroyed world class opposition, winning 61 fights before someone figured him out, and with six successful defences of the legitimate, unified world bantamweight title he beats out Fighting Harada and Eder Jofre for numbers.
Manuel Ortiz had more, but as I pointed out in the piece that argued Ortiz was fairly ranked at number six, sometimes numbers only tell half the story.
Olivares has the great Ortiz beaten on the quality of his opposition. And that, at least in this list, is the single most important criteria.
Do not think for a second that this list favours punchers. With Terry McGovern and Ruben Olivares in the top two spots - two fighters who coincidentally had very similar career arcs - you may think you have me figured out, but I can assure you there is no bias towards bangers.
If this top ten demonstrates anything, it’s that the bantamweight division has hosted arguably the most diverse array of stylists, some of the hardest pound-for-pound punchers, and some of more classy technicians and some of the greatest pound-for-pound fighters of all time.
Ruben Olivares ticks every box.
There have been some other really great bantamweights in boxing history that I would love to see Ruben Olivares go up against, dream fights. One would be Ruben Olivares vs Carlos Zarate, two murderous punchers, Zarate was the first person to string together two 20+ knockout streaks in a row, the first one 23 knockouts and the next one 28 knockouts. So Zarate knocked out the first 23 people he fought to start his career, then he lost a few fights, and then knocked out the next 28 people he fought to end his career. I would also like to see Ruben Olivares vs Eder Jofre, Jofre only lost two fights in his entire career, he was 72-2, both losses were to Fighting Harada, Harada had Jofre's number. Hell, for that matter I'd like to see Ruben Olivares vs Fighting Harada, Harada was an all-time great bantam and a vicious pressure fighter. Do I personally consider Ruben Olivares to be the greatest bantamweight in history? It's hard to argue against it. He dominated the most stacked and dangerous era in bantamweight history, absolutely dominated it. Ruben Olivares always fought like every fight like it was his last, even in sparring he fought that way and guys had to often remind Olivares to take it easy. He had one of the best left hooks in boxing history and he threw it with bad intentions, to your head and your body. He was also good at feinting to make you think he was going to throw his left, luring you into a trap and blasting you with his right. At his best, Ruben Olivares was damn near invincible and a joy to watch.
Ruben Olivares training.
Ruben Olivares vs Chucho Castillo, Ruben is seen here about to crack Castillo with a vicious left. They fought three wars against each other, Olivares won the series 2-1.
Olivares was a brutal puncher, Ring magazine has him at number 12 on the 100 hardest punchers of all-time list.