"Look at his number of knockouts,” the late Hall of Fame writer Bert Sugar once told The Ring. “He was a dual champion. He was never in an unexciting fight. He had a left hook from hell. Everything about him said ‘great fighter"
Sandy Saddler, featherweight. Most people consider Willie Pep to be the greatest featherweight in history, but Sandy Saddler is right there with him. As far as the featherweight division is concerned, Saddler was a nightmare for his opponents, he was 5'9" tall, and very lanky and he used his size to his advantage, roughing his opponents up brutally, he was a seek and destroy type fighter. He was also one of the hardest punchers in boxing history, he knocked out 103 opponents, that's #6 on the all-time knockout list. He's most famous for his four fights with Willie Pep, four of the most brutal fights in history, three of which Saddler won, they put each other through pure hell in those fights. The great George Foreman was a protege of Sandy Saddler and learned a lot from him, Sandy taught George to basically go right after your opponent and try to destroy him, that was Sandy Saddler. To watch Sandy Saddler on film is to watch a Terminator hunt his prey, he was a machine programmed to destroy.
Standing over 5’8” tall but fighting as a bantamweight and featherweight through much of his career, Sandy Saddler was one of boxing’s genuine physical freaks, a rickety-looking beanpole with dumbfounding punching power. Saddler scored more knockouts (103) than any other featherweight champion in history and ranks high on the number of knockout wins regardless of weight class.
He was more than a simple puncher, though. Saddler was capable of boxing cleverly behind a long, damaging left jab or of using roughhouse brawling tactics when the moment called for it — and sometimes even when it didn’t. Win, lose, or draw, Sandy Saddler made sure opponents did not get out of the ring unscathed.
Born in Boston but raised in New York by immigrants from the West Indies, Saddler turned professional as a bantamweight (118 pounds) in 1944, at age 17. He went undefeated in 24 fights throughout the year 1945, 20 of those ending by way of knockout. The champions at bantamweight and featherweight (126 pounds) avoided him for years, locking him out of a shot at the featherweight laurels until his ninety-fourth professional bout.
On October 29, 1948, Saddler upset the legendary Willie Pep, whose record was an unbelievable 134–1–1 at the time, scoring a shocking fourth-round knockout to take the title away. In all, Saddler and Pep would do battle four times, each conflict more ruthless than the last. Pep scored his defining victory by brilliantly outboxing Sandy in their second encounter in 1949, but he still exited the ring a bloody mess. Sandy took the final two, stopping Pep in both and regaining the title in the process.
The third fight was a foul-filled affair but even that could not compare with the shocking chaos of their fourth encounter on September 26, 1951, in New York’s Polo Grounds. Through nine rounds, Pep and Saddler tripped, gouged, elbowed, butted, head-locked, heeled, and wrestled each other until Pep’s badly swollen right eye could take no more and the fight was stopped. In one of the most viciously fought rivalries in the history of the sport, Saddler emerged the winner in three of four contests against one of boxing’s living legends.
Between the Pep fights, Saddler continued to perform excellently against other elite names in the sport. He did not defend his titles often, but he fought dozens of non-title fights between his defenses. Often fighting above the featherweight limit and not always taking his opponents seriously, Saddler lost a lot of his non-title matches, but when a belt was on the line, he always showed up prepared.
Sandy won a second division championship at junior lightweight (130 pounds) on December 6, 1949, in Cleveland against Orlando Zulueta and would defend it twice before entering the U.S. Army, serving two years in the service. He held onto both belts with a thirteenth-round stoppage of future Hall of Famer Flash Elorde in 1956 and retired a few months later at age 30 as a reigning two-division champion after sustaining injuries in a car accident. He was only stopped once in 162 professional outings, and that was in his second pro fight.
Cheated out of most of his ring earnings by unscrupulous promoters and managers and entirely forgotten by casual sports fans as one of the greatest boxers of his generation, Saddler became a boxing trainer in retirement. He served as a cornerman for heavyweight champion George Foreman in the 1970s. But his true legacy will always be rooted in winning three fights in his bitterly contested four-bout rivalry with the legendary Pep.
Like I said, Sandy Saddler taught George Foreman a lot, if you watch Foreman in his prime, you notice the similar seek and destroy type style.
Saddler was vicious in ring
By George Foreman
ESPN.com contacted George Foreman to discuss Sandy Saddler, the great featherweight champion who died in 2001. Here are some of Foreman's thoughts:
On working with Saddler
I met Sandy Saddler when I went to New York City to work out for a fight with Donald Waldheim. Sandy helped Dick Sadler and I out in the gym as far as finding sparring partners. From that time on, Sandy was in my corner any time I went to New York City. He was always second in charge behind Dick Sadler at all the big fights I had in Madison Square Garden. Whenever their was a big fight anywhere, Sandy was there -- in Kingston, Jamaica; Caracas, Venezuela and the last fight we worked together in Africa against Muhammad Ali.
On Saddler's influence
Dick knew I had so much respect for Sandy. If he couldn't get a point over, he knew if I heard it from Sandy I would do what I was told. One time I had been training really well in California and just kind of stumbled into a vegetarian diet. Dick was with me in an examination and the doctor said "George, you don't eat meat do you?" I said, "how'd you know that?" "I can tell by the tests," said the doctor. Dick looked me in the eye and kind of swelled up and said "You can't do that. I did all this work to make you champion and you go off and eat just salads?" I wasn't going to stop being a vegetarian, though. Dick brought Sandy out to Oakland, Calif. and let me tell you, Sandy jumped all over me and told me the virtues of meat. He made me eat some bacon right in front of him. Sandy was just an important guy to me. If ever a point needed to be made, call Sandy Saddler.
On Saddler in the ring
As a boxer, Sandy was vicious. There is no other word to describe him in the ring. He would try to really put that into me. When he was in the ring, he knew nothing about retreat. Everything was about get him, get him, get him. Going back to my corner during my fight with Ali, even when I was burning out, I could hear Sandy saying "get him, get him, get him." That was the one thing about him, he knew how important it was to the boxing world to have one fighter bring the fight. No matter what happened, he thought it was important to be true to boxing fans and go at the opponent.
On Saddler and Willie Pep
Sometimes when he talked about his fights with Willie Pep, it would get on his nerves a little bit. At the time he was not in the Boxing Hall of Fame and he thought it was because of his eye injury. He'd always say Willie did this to him and Willie did that to him. One day just when they were getting the new Garden organized, he did an exhibition with Willie Pep. They were just playing around and he said Willie told him to "take it easy Sandy." He always laughed at that story. I think that Willie telling him to take it easy gave him a little freedom from those Wille Pep matches. He'd just break his side laughing that Willie didn't want him to hurt him. You never heard Sandy laugh much, but that always tickled him. That exhibition they fought in Madison Square Garden brought peace to him and Willie Pep.
Sandy Saddler was a very complex fighting machine, there was method to his madness. This is a great scientific analysis of his style. I apologize for not being able to post the videos to go along with the article, but this stuff is worth it's weight in Gold regardless.
Sandy Saddler: The Lil’ Terminator
The single greatest featherweight ever is Willie Pep. It’s practically an impossible point to argue against. Arguably the greatest defensive fighter in the storied history of the sport - simply listing Pep’s accolades is probably an exercise in futility. His record stands for itself, as does his impeccable control of the ring with procedural, dancing steps to lead opponents into his selections and outmaneuver them all day long whilst barely sustaining even a scratch. Not a single movement was wasted - it was all in the smallest of moves having the maximal effect. Pep was a genius and an artist as much as any fighter you could ever find.
Joseph ‘Sandy’ Saddler, the probable second greatest featherweight at best, stood as the complete opposite of Pep in every way. Pep was all about controlling engagements; Saddler wanted to force rugged confrontation. Pep lacked the firepower to kill, so he made his selections as precise and purposeful as any; Saddler was arguably the most horrific puncher in the entire division’s history and didn’t care what he missed so long as he could continue his assault. Pep set traps and played the world’s greatest matador; Saddler looked to trap and charge like the world’s meanest of bulls. Pep fought like he was an artist trying to paint a masterpiece with careful, subtle efforts; Saddler fought like he wanted to maul his adversary with rugged aggression. Willie Pep was the greatest featherweight, but Sandy Saddler was the most terrifying.
He proved that by pursuing and cutting Pep down to a thorough stoppage in three of their four confrontations. Only one of the greatest performances in a boxing ring, that, unfortunately remains sought after footage, saw Pep managing to see the final bell by outworking, outboxing and outfighting Saddler and his face was still battered beyond recognition in the process.
According to Saddler’s record of nearly 162 bouts, he was stopped only once - in his second fight. In the footage we have of Saddler, it was rare to ever see him even discouraged or even rattled. With only an unyielding, killing goal in mind, Sandy Saddler was the quintessential hunter, walking his opponents down, drawing their fire and then battering them until they couldn’t stand. Of Saddler’s 144 victims, only 36 of them saw the final bell and those that did appeared to be nothing less than broken and beaten.
To find a fighter to create parallel comparatives for Saddler is easy enough: George Foreman was not just a protege of Saddler (Sandy’s cousin Dick Sadler was Foreman’s principle trainer) he was a heavyweight variant of the featherweight great. Although Foreman relied more upon his raw power to intercept opponent entries, he was willing to pressure like Saddler and lead them into killshots. What did separate Saddler from Foreman appeared to be how both weaponized attrition. Foreman’s was about that singular, moving force colliding with the opponent and making them collapse until its vaunted weight. Saddler, though, pursued and ripped his enemies up to the ribs before mauling them up close. Foreman could be called a big man’s Saddler and Saddler a small man’s Foreman, but Big George was about the big moments whereas Saddler’s preoccupation minded itself towards breaking bodies.
Differences aside, the bread-and-butter of how both pressured were comparable. Primarily, Saddler would look to cut his opponents off and put them into the corner or into the clinch. Like his arch-rival Willie Pep, Saddler’s steps were more measured than they were fleeting. With Saddler, the intention was to corner and then expend energy battering the opponent unconscious.
To keep the pursuit up, Saddler employed a varied combination of a cross arm guard and a long guard. Long guards are an employment of using outstretched arms to take strikes on the forearms or shoulders and to close the distance into the clinch. They benefit fighters who want to be aggressive and impose their strength. Taller, longer pugilists utilize the long guard because it also forces their opponents to close the distance into a closer range; the elbows and forearms will catch shots. However, long guards are more demanding to pull off in boxing than in other combat sports, such as Muay Thai, because long guard practitioners typically will have to use kicks and knees to close the gap or to maintain range. In boxing, that luxury is no longer available and foot movement has a higher priority. To make ends meet, Saddler would fix in a cross-arm guard too.
Cross-arm guards have the fighter hold their rear hand high and slightly outstretch their lead hand. Ideally, the right hand acts as both a feeler - to parry shots upstairs - and feeder - to constantly threaten with the right hand. The lead hand, at its extension, is capable of hand-fighting and jabbing to keep control of range. Ideally, a cross-arm guard is about maintaining constant contact while catching-and-pitching back. These two guards, in combination, could make it difficult for opponents to get through even if they manipulated it because Saddler would fold the rear arm across his chest or quickly reposition.
Note how Saddler’s arm length allows him to probe, touch and frame and set up other offenses.
Saddler’s goal to get a hold of his opponent and his arm length then acted as ancillary threats with a caveat. Because Saddler is constantly on the offensive, he has to touch and engage constantly. As a result, his ringcutting and shot selection has to be on point to keep those engagements on his terms.
Many of Saddler’s jabs work as throwaways or potshots to force an opponent to circle to his right, where he threatens a right overhand. In reality, Saddler’s money punch is his left hook or shovel uppercut - the success to which it lands is crafted through the jab and the overhand’s threat. When Saddler throws, it is a rapid transfer of weight to enforce his god-given power and drive the opponent back even more. If they anticipate hook, Saddler will break rhythm and commit to straight rights, body and head to keep them guessing and back towards the lead hand. If not, they just keep moving backwards.
If anything else, Saddler’s offensive ringcraft would not be as punishing if not for his commitment to the body. He will alternate his jabs, hooks and uppercuts to the midsections, slowly debilitating them as he pushes his opponents backwards. To cut off their escapes or to sustain his pressure, he’ll use right hooks or straights to the body with maximum force. By changing his mixups and constantly feinting, Saddler can keep his man guessing about which way to move while slowly and methodically breaking their will to flee and try to stand their ground.
Unfortunately, a closer range is exactly what Saddler would look for. As soon as he was within reach of them, Saddler would look for underhooks or overhooks to convert to a single collar tie or wrist control. Once he had control of an arm (usually with wrist-control) and pushed the head down to break their posture, he would begin firing uppercuts without even a modicum of restraint.
If he couldn’t convert to a collar tie, Saddler was content to use overhooks or underhooks to make chest-to-chest contact and deliver consistent shots relative to his head position until he could create the space for those collar ties.
On the ropes, the possible damage would only accumulate dramatically. There, Saddler would also grab wrists or employ frames to continue the mauling. If they got away, Saddler would continue to use throwaway or successful offense to convert to collar ties or handtrap the wrist.
In a word, Saddler’s tactics were not the kind of allowances that would be allowed in the modern boxing scene. Even back then, Saddler gained notoriety by being too rough and willing to bend the rules. Combined with an iron will and ungodly durability, Sandy Saddler was going to get to an opponent at some point. It was how they dealt with the terminator that often determined how intelligent and gritty they were. Willie Pep, as great a ring general as you could ever find, constantly struggled to find routes away from Saddler’s unrelenting hounding.
When the components of Saddler’s game came together, he didn’t just beat his opponents down. He mauled them with the rarest of fury.
That said, Saddler had evident limitations with his game. The most obvious is that his best defense was often his best offense.
Because Saddler wanted to close range and hold, he was liable to be caught quite a bit upon entry if he couldn’t slip nor smother. A clever outfighter, for instance, could trick Saddler into standing square and counter him on the spot or force longer exchanges, whereupon Saddler usually struggled. Likewise, Saddler could overcommit and be turned. His durability and conditioning allowed him to hide how much effort and time he had to devote to an attritional, incredibly physical style and is indicative that it wouldn’t quite have worked for others without the New Yorker’s physicality or propensity to bend the rules. In short, Saddler had to resign to taking shots in order to enforce his game; were he not Sandy Saddler specifically, that strategy may well not have worked.
(You may have noticed quite a bit of Willie Pep clips in here. I want to take this time to shill out for how incredibly great their fourth fight is. A high level of ringcraft and both men fouling each other. It ought to make you incredibly disappointed their second bout isn’t available.)
Perhaps the greatest weakness, however, was that Saddler was demonstrably more effective if he was the one pressing. Saddler’s guard made it tricky to hit him upstairs at range because of his proactive catching and pitching, but a determined combination puncher could cross counter over his forearms (e.g. Ali-Foreman) or target Saddler’s endlessly-exposed midsection and then go upstairs.
Against a willing infighter, especially one who positioned his head under his own, Saddler became far less efficient and imposing in close. Because he doesn’t have the space to uppercut or hold, a shorter man could smother the lankier Saddler and force him to work. Saddler did employ counter uppercuts to punish entries versus said fighters, but the point still stood: If he couldn’t put them on the backfoot and they could him, he found himself in a gritty attritional battle whereupon he no longer held control of how the engagements happened. Ergo, in the opinion of this writer, someone with the infighting prowess of a Henry Armstrong, barring being hurt on entry, may have made Saddler’s life a living hell.
Nonetheless, Sandy Saddler stands as one of the most prolific, accomplished fighters in ring history. His three victories over Willie Pep, among anything else, inform that he wasn’t just an offensive tank. Sandy Saddler was an intelligent terminator and looked to take advantage of everything he could to win and hurt the men standing in front of him until they were a ruined, unconscious figure on the canvas. Boxing’s featherweight division has had its share of power punchers and knockout artists - the fact that Saddler is considered its most accomplished says something.
One other thing about Sandy Saddler, he had a jab that he threw at a downward angle, he did this on purpose, it was designed to tear an opponents skin and open up a cut. It was called the slashing jab.
Sandy Saddler fought Willie Pep four times, they were some of the most violent and brutal fights in the history of boxing, Saddler won three of the four. Now, Willie Pep is in the conversation for the greatest pound for pound fighter that ever lived, going into the first Sandy Saddler fight, Willie Pep's record was 134-1, he could box your ears off and is one of the greatest defensive fighters ever, he was a master the art of "hit and not be hit." It was once said that Willie Pep was so good that he could sneak up on you from behind and hit you. In 1947 Willie Pep was in a plane crash in which three people died, Pep was one of eleven survivors but the crash left him with a broken leg and two chipped vertebrae in his back. Well, he recovered from the plane crash, resumed his career and went 131-10 after the crash, to finish his career with an overall record of 229-11. That was Willie Pep. Anyway, going into the first fight with Sandy Saddler, Willie Pep had already survived the crash and his record was 134-1. Now, you have to understand, Willie Pep was 5'5" and Saddler was 5'9", so Pep gave away four inches to Saddler, and Saddler had lanky arms and the reach advantage. On top of that, Saddler was a vicious bastard and one of the hardest punchers in boxing history, so Willie Pep shouldn't be slighted for losing three of the four fights against Saddler, Pep was up against odds that were hard to overcome.
This fight took place in 1948, Willie Pep came into this fight with a record of 134-1, he had been world featherweight champion for six years, Saddler was the underdog and captured the title by knocking Pep down four times en route to a fourth round knockout victory. This was only the second time that Pep was beaten, Sammy Angott beat him in 1943, and this was the first time Willie Pep was ever stopped in 137 bouts.
Sandy Saddler knocks down Willie Pep in round three.
Sandy Saddler knocks Willie Pep out in round four to win the world featherweight championship.
It was shocking to see the great Willie Pep lose his featherweight crown after six years, especially the way he did, by violent knockout. You just didn't see Willie Pep lose, especially by knockout. But in the rematch with Saddler, Willie Pep showed the world why he was the greatest featherweight in the history of boxing.
Feb. 11, 1949: Pep vs Saddler II
There is a certain mystique to legendary fights of yesteryear, a nostalgia that speaks of a time when ‘The Sweet Science’ was larger than life and ruled supreme. There are but a few wise old heads left lucky enough to have witnessed some of the greatest fights in boxing history, but with no film to view many of them, the rest of us are left to ponder just how great they really were.
The second meeting between Hartford’s Willie Pep and Harlem’s Sandy Saddler, a bout awarded Ring Magazine’s Fight of the Year award for 1949, is a perfect example of such a match. For most of us, all that is left are the stories of the fight’s immensity, stories told through newspaper men who were on hand to witness it, the words weaving a tale of the skill, bravery and guile on display.
When Pep lost his title to Saddler on October 29th, 1948, many believed the career of one of the greatest featherweights of all-time had come to an abrupt end. Pep had been knocked out in the fourth round and the general consensus, as noted in a report in The Milwaukee Journal, was that he was finished: “Willie Pep is all washed up after losing his featherweight boxing championship to Sandy Saddler. That seems to be the consensus following Friday night’s stunning knockout victory for Saddler, a lean Harlem puncher, in 2:38 of the fourth round.”
While Pep may well have been the best featherweight the world has ever seen, the knockout loss to Saddler, the toll of some 136 fights, and the plane crash that nearly took his life in 1947, proved enough for many to label him a shot fighter. But, as the old adage goes, ‘beware the wounded warrior.’
Pep came to pre-eminence in 1942 when he outpointed fellow Hall of Fame inductee Albert “Chalky” Wright at Madison Square Garden in New York. He would be 62-0 before his first professional loss, a non-title decision to lightweight champion, Sammy Angott. The loss meant little in the featherweight division however, as Pep still ruled supreme and he would go unbeaten in 72 straight fights before running into the heavy hands of Saddler.
Sandy Saddler, the big puncher from Harlem took Pep's title in a four round knock out in '48.
Sandy Saddler took Pep’s title in a four round knockout in ’48.
Superlatives can’t do justice to Pep’s reign over the 126 pound division, but the shocking and violent manner in which Saddler had taken his crown resulted in few boxing fans believing Pep had what it took to take the title back. After all, Saddler’s run to the top was one that came by way of brute force. The lanky Harlem native owned one of the sport’s biggest punches and he had dispatched many a featherweight and lightweight with his vicious punches before finally getting his chance at the title.
Pep vs Saddler II was set for February 11th, 1949, but it took place only because of a clause in the contract between Pep and the Twentieth Century Sporting Club. Promoter Harry Markson held little hope that the rematch would be a success and a New York Times report referred to his surprise when the match proved to be a hot ticket.
The second meeting between the two featherweights wasn't expected to be the success it was.
The rematch between the two featherweights exceeded all expectations.
“Markson was agreeably surprised when the box office windows were first opened and a flood of orders for tickets came pouring in. He was even more surprised when these orders continued, and yesterday the fight impresario was downright bewildered as the late rush of applicants augured a certain capacity house. What seemed a white elephant at the start was transformed into a golden calf, one that promised to be worth more than $80,000 at the gate.”
Whether it was hope, respect, or a genuine belief that Willie Pep could in fact win his title back, it seemed as if the people had spoken: this was to be a fight of major importance. Some twenty thousand crammed into Madison Square Garden, just three months after the young lion from Harlem had devoured his older adversary, and the crowd was on hand to see whether the once-great Pep was up to the task of gaining his title back from such a ferocious opponent.
A capacity crowd was on hand to witness one of boxing’s greatest bouts.
The bell rang, and to the astonishment of the crowd, Pep went on the attack. He tattooed the face of Saddler with his quick left, landing some thirty-seven jabs in the opening stanza. The hand speed of the former champion was back, something many observers thought Pep had lost after watching his lacklustre performance in the first clash. The New York Times called Pep’s start to the bout “a demonstration of blinding speed that had Sandy looking like a novice.”
Saddler marched forward relentlessly, in spite of Pep’s jabs, but the Hartford slickster kept his heavy-hitting rival off him by way of his counter-punching prowess, as described by The Chicago Tribune: “Saddler was moving forward, measuring Willie with unblinking eyes, but Pep was too much for him with his counter-punching.” But counter-punching wasn’t Pep’s only strategy for keeping Saddler at bay. He utilized some ‘questionable tactics’ throughout the fight and was warned by the referee for wrestling in the first round and heeling Saddler in the face in the third.
But Pep couldn’t hold back forever the waves of destruction that were continually advancing and in the fourth the champion began to dent the defenses of the challenger. Sandy landed savage rips to the body and grazed Pep’s face numerous times, always just a few inches away from landing a blow that undoubtedly would have ended the contest, such was the dynamite power of Saddler’s fists.
Sandy landed a hard left in the fifth, opening a cut on Pep’s right cheek but the gash, which bled throughout the rest of the fight, did little to stop Pep from dominating his opponent. He landed all manner of punches over the next six rounds, attacking from every conceivable angle and displaying his supreme footwork, while avoiding the aggressive attempts from his adversary to land a knockout blow.
Pep displayed amazing skills and ring generalship.
Saddler started to gain momentum in the late rounds, opening a new cut over Pep’s right eye in the thirteenth and slamming home numerous teeth-rattling shots in the round that followed, but Pep weathered the storm and came out with his guns blazing for the final round. As The New York Times reported: “[Pep] gave his greatest thrill in the fifteenth when, after weathering the jarring fire of the fourteenth, he came back to fight Saddler all over the ring with a strength that few, if any, thought he possessed.”
The crowd erupted when the scores were announced and Pep’s hand was raised. “[W]ild turmoil broke out in the Garden,” reported The Chicago Tribune, “which was loaded with rabid Pep fans as announcer Johnny Addle gave the unanimous decision.”
Willie Pep had won back the featherweight championship of the world, becoming the first man to regain the title at 126 pounds since George Dixon back in 1898. But even more significantly, he had done it in spectacular fashion. While the second Pep vs Saddler battle had been competitive and exciting, all three judges scored for the famed “Will O’ The Wisp” by margins of five, six and seven points. The victory, and the way in which Pep bucked the odds and schooled such a capable and dangerous fighter, only solidified his place as one of the best boxers, pound-for-pound, of all-time.
Perhaps the words of famed boxing scribe James P. Dawson best illustrated the enormity of what Pep had achieved when he wrote: “Pep put up the greatest battle of his career. He called on every ounce of strength within his compact little body, and all the guile he has accumulated through eleven years as an amateur and professional fighter to gain the triumph. How well he succeeded is reflected in the tabulation of the officials. And in riding to victory he proved to be one of the greatest featherweight champions the ring has known.”
I was twelve-years-old when my uncle took me to watch this marvelous boxing match on one of the few televisions in the city. I was being personally plagued by a bully on my street and knew the time was nearing when I would have to stand up to him and I feared that inevitable day. My uncle had been telling me of the great Willie Pep and how he was so skilled in terms of head movement and footwork that opponents could not hit him with solid punches. I had to witness Willie in action to see if I could copy his style in my coming dreaded fight. Watching his performance, I became Willie’s greatest fan. His technique was flawless and I cheered my young heart out as I watched the great champion box his way to victory. After that I trained and trained with Willie’s style in mind every day, privately, for nearly three months. And then the day came when my adversary cornered me and I had no choice but to fight. But I didn’t fight; I boxed. I moved and crouched and danced side to side, watching my opponent sliding by, and then I would pop him with clean blows and be away before he could hit back, drawing blood from his mouth and nose. He soon tired of the match and walked away in disgust, telling the crowd around us, “I can’t hit him.” What a glorious day! After that I never ducked a challenge again. Thank you, champion Willie Pep. And thank you to my uncle who knew I would love the great “Will ‘o the Wisp.” And I still do to this day. God bless Guglielmo Papaleo, aka Willie Pep.
By the time the third fight rolled around, there was serious bad blood between these two, the third fight was a brutal affair filled with dirty fighting between both fighters. The fight ended when Willie Pep couldn't answer the bell for the eighth round because his left shoulder had become dislocated.
Sept. 8, 1950: Pep vs Saddler III
For die-hard fans of fisticuffs, those four syllables conjure up all kinds of recollections and images and important facts from the rich history of pugilism. Their storied feud is unlike any other in boxing history, and it was their third clash that established that fact, for good or ill. They were featherweights and yet they inspired truly heavyweight interest from American sports fans. And while both, even in their day, were regarded as two of the greatest to ever step into the ring, mutual respect was conspicuously absent from their compelling rivalry. The simple truth was Pep and Saddler hated each other with a passion.
Despite Pep’s great triumph the year before, and three subsequent title defenses, the odds-makers tabbed the champion as an eight-to-five underdog, reinforcing one of the major themes of the Pep vs Saddler rivalry, that being the general impression that Saddler was just too big, strong and powerful for Pep. And in fact, in the late going in the second fight, Pep had struggled with Saddler’s aggression and physical advantages. Thus the sharpies saw chapter three of the series as the bigger and younger man’s fight to lose.
So few were shocked when, despite Pep once again being the better boxer and using angles and sublime footwork to outfox the aggressor, Saddler scored a knockdown in round three. Soon after, Pep, no doubt frustrated with the challenger’s roughhouse tactics and his undeniable physical advantage, began to incorporate some less-than-honorable tactics into his performance. In addition to a pesky jab and quick combinations, Pep now incorporated some well-placed thumbs, along with plenty of pushing and shoving, not to mention a few stomps on Saddler’s toes.
Pep on the canvas in round three.
Well, Sandy didn’t need to be asked twice. He responded in kind and soon there was almost as much fouling going on as there was boxing. Pep controlled the match for the most part with his usual brilliant footwork and quick hands, while Saddler concentrated on a ruthless body attack. And at the same time, both fighters demonstrated themselves to be certified experts at the darker arts of ringcraft, freely indulging in plenty of lacing, gouging, tripping, thumbing and elbowing.
When the bell rang for round seven it was obvious that Pep had the edge in terms of points thanks to his superb boxing and plenty of clean right hands to the challenger’s jaw. In fact, some at ringside had scored only the third round for Saddler, the champion just too quick and slippery. But at the same time, Sandy’s vicious body punches, many of them straying under the belt line, were taking their toll. And indeed, a tiring Pep found himself in some difficulty in round seven as Saddler was able to close the gap and land more heavy lefts to both body and head, forcing Pep back and manhandling him.
At round’s end the fighters were locked in a vicious clinch on the ropes and when the bell rang and Pep retreated to his corner, all could see he was in agony. The ringside physician examined the stricken fighter and diagnosed a dislocated left shoulder; when round eight began Pep stayed on his stool. Saddler had regained the world title, though in a manner satisfying for no one; talk of a fourth Pep vs Saddler clash was widespread even before the stands in Yankee Stadium had completely emptied. The very next day, Harry Markson, president of the International Boxing Club, declared that arrangements for Pep vs Saddler, Part IV, were already in the works.
It was news a bitter Pep welcomed. “He got me in a double arm lock,” declared the former champion. “He twisted my arm twice. That’s what did it, not his punches. Sure, he hurt me a few times, but I could have beat him.”
For his part, a cheery Saddler was unperturbed about the controversial conclusion. “I thought a punch to the kidney did it,” he told reporters. “But if they say I twisted his arm, okay, I twisted it.”
After all, said Saddler, Pep did his share of rough stuff too. “He thumbed me in the eye,” said Saddler. “He did the same thing in the other fights. I told the referee, but that Pep never stopped thumbing.”
A year later they battled again, in a match that was, incredibly, even more foul-filled and chaotic. And once again Pep surrendered on his stool, this time after round nine, due to a badly cut right eye. The conduct of the fighters, who spent much of the bout wrestling and rolling around on the canvas, was deemed so disgraceful that the New York State Athletic Commission suspended the professional boxing licenses of both men. And it seemed the public too had tired of the sordid nature of the rivalry. Unlike the huge crowds that had gathered for the first three battles, some fourteen thousand rattled around in the cavernous Polo Grounds for the final Pep vs Saddler clash. It was an undignified end, but, given their mutual hatred and the shoddy tactics on display, somehow fitting.
This was to be the last meeting between these two all-time greats, and it was also the most foul filled dirty fight in the series. By this time, Saddler and Pep genuinely disliked each other, the fight ended when Willie Pep refused to answer the bell for the ninth round, he had had enough of Sandy Saddler.
SANDY SADDLER-WILLIE PEP 4: THE FOUL-FILLED FINAL CHAPTER 70 YEARS LATER
Imagine, if you can, Russian ballet great Rudolf Nureyev dancing Swan Lake while wearing snowshoes … Michelangelo doing his best to adorn the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel using only his thumb and a kindergartner’s water paint … legendary tenor Luciano Pavarotti performing La Boheme with a mouthful of marbles.
True artists can be found in almost all forms of human endeavor, but their particular masteries can be and sometimes are affected by a lack of proper tools or distracting outside influences. And so it notably was in a select few instances for the late two-time former featherweight champion Willie Pep, arguably the most accomplished defensive boxer of all time, so gifted at the nuances of spacing and movement that he once was said to have won a round against a flummoxed opponent without throwing a single punch.
Pep – born Guglielmo Papaleo in Middletown, Conn., on Sept. 19, 1922 — was so convinced he could pull off that improbable stunt that he reportedly advised a few favored sports writers of his plan before he was to take on Jackie Graves on July 25, 1946, in Minneapolis, Minn. He told them to pay close attention to what he would do in the third round, which was to make Graves look like a blindfolded man trying to capture a butterfly with a pair of tweezers, and what he wouldn’t do, which was to intentionally hit his lunging, stumbling, ineffectual foil. And damned if Pep, who won the round, didn’t do exactly what he had vowed.
Then again, maybe it didn’t happen that way. Perhaps the tale of Pep’s victorious no-punch round is nothing more than urban legend, a flight of fancy that took root and remains plausible because, well, Pep was Pep. There is no existing film of that fight, and a report of it in the Minneapolis Star described the third round as “toe to toe slugging with Pep inflicting his best punishment with a right to the body.” But as a fictional Old West newsman remarked in the 1962 film The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, “When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.” And so one of the compliant legend-crafters, Don Riley, wrote that Pep had put on “an amazing display of defensive boxing skill so adroit, so winning, so subtle, that the roaring crowd did not notice Pep’s tactics were completely without offense. He even made Sugar Ray Robinson’s fluidity look like cement hardening.”
And this, from writer and ring historian Bert Sugar: “Pep moved, switched to southpaw, mocking Graves; Pep danced, Pep weaved; Pep spun Graves around and around again; Pep gave head feints, shoulder feints, foot feints, and feint feints. But Pep never landed a punch.”
Having presumably proved his point, Pep went on to display his dominance in a more traditional fashion, flooring Graves (who was no stiff; his career mark was 82-11-2, with 48 KOs) nine times en route to winning on an eighth-round technical knockout.
But even the best of the best are sometimes thrown off their game on a given day. Nureyev might not have danced so magnificently if he were bothered by, say, a bunion on his big toe. Before the invention of modern over-the-counter medications, Michelangelo might have applied an errant brush stroke or two if he woke up one morning with nagging joint pain in his painting hand. Even Pavarotti’s incredible voice could be rendered less so by laryngitis. And so it was for Willie Pep, the “Will o’ the Wisp,” to whom a similarly accomplished but stylistically opposite featherweight, Sandy Saddler, served as kryptonite to the defensive genius’ fancy-stepping but less-powerful Superman.
Today marks the 70th anniversary of the fourth and final installment of the bitterly contested arch-rivalry that pitted Saddler, again the reigning featherweight titlist, against the normally elusive Pep, whose hit-and-don’t-get-hit tactics once again would be discarded either by chance or choice. The previous three matchups – two of which had been won by Saddler – were marked in no small part by Saddler’s ability to get Pep to meet him on his preferred terms, which involved much more give-and-take exchanges favorable to the harder-hitting Harlem resident, in addition to being indisputably down ’n’ dirty. Holding and hitting? Oh, yeah. Heeling? Gouging? Thumbing? Arm-twisting? Hitting to the back of the head? Yes, yes, yes, yes and yes.
It was considered a major upset when Pep, the absolute king of the 126 pounders, relinquished his slew of titles (NBA, NYSAC and The Ring) to Saddler via fourth-round knockout in their first meeting, on Oct. 29, 1948, in Madison Square Garden. Most knowledgeable observers had expected to Pep to win, and why not? He had entered the ring for that bout with a glittering 135-1-1 (45) record, on a 73-bout undefeated run that included a solitary draw, and the prevailing opinion was that the Will o’ the Wisp would also school Saddler, the son of West Indian immigrants who came in at 75-6-2 (57) and with a bit of a reputation for rules-flouting. Noted British fight scribe Harry Mullan once referred to Saddler as “a highly refined master of the ignobler aspects of the Noble Art. There have been few better featherweight champions, and even fewer dirtier ones.” From the opening bell, however, it was Saddler who roughly imposed his will, breaking Pep down with ripping shots as no one ever had.
There would, of course, be a rematch, on Feb. 11, 1949, also at Madison Square Garden and before a packed house of 20,000. It would be a stark reversal of what had happened in the first pairing, with Pep again the slippery escape artist, darting in to score with quick flurries whenever it suited his purpose before ducking and dodging his way back out of the danger zone. Pep would forever claim thereafter that his unanimous, 15-round decision over his most persistent nemesis was the finest performance and most cherished victory of his 26-year, 241-bout, 1,956-round professional career.
With the series now square at one victory apiece, public interest in a rubber match was such that a paid crowd of 37,781 turned out on Sept. 8, 1950, in Yankee Stadium, with Saddler, interestingly, going off as the 8-5 betting favorite. But try as he might to replicate his success in Part 2, a frustrated Pep, clearly in distress, retired on his stool after the seventh round due to a dislocated should he claimed was the result of Saddler’s wrestling maneuvers.
As the winner of two of the three previous matchups, both of his triumphs marked by an ability to frequently manhandle the smaller Pep, Saddler again went off as the favorite for their fourth and final meeting, this time by 9-5. But the climactic showdown at New York’s Polo Grounds included an element, a mutually intense personal dislike, which was much more apparent than had been evident previously. This time Pep would not have to be bullied or coerced into fighting Saddler’s fight, he would willingly give vent to his desire to inflict as much or more pain than he was apt to receive, no matter how strategically imprudent that was.
The press corps that had once rhapsodized about Pep’s Fred Astaire-in-padded-gloves style, along with a live audience of 13,868, were aghast by what took place from round one until the finish, with Pep, badly bleeding from a gash above his right eye opened by a Saddler left hook in the second round, declining to leave his stool at the end of the ninth round. The only difference from Pep’s third go at Saddler was the nature of the injury that precipitated his grudging surrender.
“He kept sticking his thumb in my eye,” complained Pep, who was ahead on the scorecards submitted to that point by referee Ray Miller (five rounds to four) and judge Frank Forbes (5-4), with judge Arthur Aidala seeing it as a 4-4-1 standoff. “Every time we clinched he gave me the thumb, in the cut and in the eye. I couldn’t stand it. I hate to make excuses but I couldn’t stand it. Bill (Gore, his trainer) kept telling me I was winning, but I couldn’t stand the pain in my eye.”
It can be argued, convincingly, that Pep’s place in the annals of boxing is and should be higher than that of Saddler, although both were charter inductees into the International Boxing Hall of Fame’s Class of 1990. But man-to-man, the proof is in the pudding. Head-to-head, Saddler’s three victories in four clashes with Pep offers conclusive evidence of who owned whom inside the ropes.
Bill Lee, sports editor of the Hartford Courant, expressed that opinion when he wrote:
"Sandy Saddler is Pep’s master. He proved it Wednesday night to the satisfaction of everyone who saw the fight. He convinced Lou Viscusi, Pep’s manager, and Bill Gore, the trainer, that he is the one fighter in Pep’s life that Willie can’t handle."
Having gone to that particular well four times, Viscusi acknowledged the reality that there need not be a fifth time for his guy, Pep, to further test himself against the taller (5’8½” to 5’5”), longer-armed (70” reach to 68”), harder-hitting and four-years-younger Saddler. “Every fighter has bumped into one man he can’t lick,” Viscusi reasoned. “I’m convinced now that Pep can’t beat Saddler.”
What stung both future Hall of Fame fighters, even more than the legal or illegal punches that were landed, was the negative reaction to their anything-goes violation of acceptable ring etiquette. Even jaded sports writers professed to be shocked and dismayed by what they had seen, with Pep designated for even more withering criticism than Saddler.
Jimmy Cannon, of the New York Herald Tribune: "There was a time when Willie Pep fought with a mixture of proud caution and audacity. The fight racket was improved by his graceful agility which was as true and clean as this cruel form of entertainment can ever but. But (his) splendid skill has deteriorated into a nastiness which resembles the guile of a clumsy card cheater. The tricks Pep used in the Polo Grounds last night were low and snide. It was shameful to behold."
Gene Ward, New York Daily News: "Wrestling, holding and otherwise trying all the tricks to stave off the inevitable, that once-great ring magician, Willie Pep, went down to ignoble defeat while sitting on his stool at the Polo Grounds at the end of the ninth round of a weird and dreary apology for a fight."
Lester Bromberg, New York World Telegram: "Smarty pants (Pep) suckered the public again as he blew taps for himself in the corner last night at the Polo Grounds, capping a nightmare of pugilism as it ain’t."
Al Abrams, sports editor of the Pittsburgh Post-Garette: "It was nine rounds of the worst exhibition of unsportsmanlike conduct ever seen in a bout anywhere."
Jim Jennings, New York Mirror: "Pep, who employed every dirty trick known to the racket, quit suddenly while seated in his corner. In more than 40 years of watching fights, I never viewed a fouler battler than Pep. Tripping, holding and gouging were just a few of his mean stunts."
Adding insult to injury for Pep was the decision by newly installed New York State Athletic Commission chairman Robert K. Christenberry to suspend Pep for life and Saddler indefinitely. Pep’s suspension was lifted after 20 months, and both went on to resume their careers. Although Saddler’s last bout was a 10-round unanimous-decision loss to Larry Boardman on April 14, 1956, when he was not quite 30 years old, Pep kept on keeping on until he was 43, finally retiring following a six-round defeat on points to Calvin Woodland on March 16, 1966.
Asked why he lingered so long in a harsh sport unforgiving to even elite fighters who ignore the inevitable ravages of time, Pep, who was married six times and was fond of betting on racehorses that tended to run slower than he would have preferred, cracked, “My ex-wives were all good housekeepers. When they left, they kept the house.”
To both of their credit, Pep and Saddler – as is often the case with fighters who have gone to hell and back, maybe even several times – became friends in later life. Sadly, both men passed away with their memories of who and what they had been largely erased. Pep (career record: 229-11-1 (65 KO), who was 84 when he took his eternal 10-count on Nov. 23, 2006, suffered from Alzheimer’s the last five years of his life; Saddler (145-16-2 (103 KO) was 75 when he died on Sept. 18, 2001, also afflicted by Alzheimer’s.
The four fights between Sandy Saddler and Willie Pep were some of the most violent encounters in the history of the sport, the series of fights left both men scarred and bitter for years to come. Sandy Saddler didn't even like talking about it for a long time, but later in life they became friends and even boxed in an exhibition years later which brought them both peace about their bitter rivalry. Sandy Saddler won the series 3-1, he was an extremely difficult opponent for anyone to overcome, he was tall, punched like a mule kicks, and had a long reach advantage, and was a vicious and brutal fighter that was always trying to destroy you, he was really a freak of nature for the featherweight division.
But that was Sandy Saddler, he could really lay a beating on you, a brutal fighter and puncher, he's ranked #5 on Ring magazine's 100 hardest punchers list.
Sandy Saddler in his prime, you can see what a nightmare he was for his opponents to try to deal with. Tall, lanky, powerful, vicious, and in your face.
Alexis Arguello, "the explosive thin man ", all-time great fighter. When he stepped into the ring to fight he would study his opponents first, analyzing them, gathering intelligence on them, their weaknesses, where they vulnerable, even if it meant taking some punishment to do so, then he would unleash his attack once he figured his opponent out. The great boxing trainer Ray Arcel once said, "Boxing is brains over brawn. I don’t care how much ability you got, if you can’t think you’re just another bum in the park" and this very much applied to Alexis Arguello. Once Arguello figured you out, there was little to nothing you could do to stop him, he was an assassin, with an arsenal of weapons at his disposal. He was explosive, threw deadly accurate punches in flurries, powerful hooks to the head and body, and had brutal knockout power. He was 5'10" and very lanky, which gave him great leverage for generating power in his punches. Alexis Arguello was once quoted as saying that if he landed one decent shot a round he was happy. One decent shot from him usually meant the smelling salts needed to be brought out.
Alexis Arguello, The Explosive Thin Man...“One of the Greatest Ever."
Alexis Arguello, “El Flaco Explosivo”, the explosive thin man, as he was called, was at 5’ 10” exceptionally tall for a fighter who weighed under 140 pounds. As his nickname indicates he was an explosive hitter, indeed he was perhaps the most economic and efficient puncher of the last 50 years. He fought in a boxer-puncher style similar to that of Joe Louis exhibiting near flawless boxing fundamentals with his chin down and hands held high. Alexis threw perfect left jabs and right crosses straight down the pipe and his left hook was a powerful force. He was a master at analyzing the flaws in an opponent’s style and then dissecting them with fierce body punching, accurate counters and precise combinations. Arguello would patiently stalk his opponents, take them apart and finish them off with an explosion of cascading bombs that came from a selection of powerful punches. Arguello scored 65 knockouts in 82 career wins that came with the suddenness of a man who was struck by a rattlesnake.
In his prime Arguello was considered nigh invincible. One 1978 boxing magazine published, “Alexis Arguello is regarded by some people as the perfect fighter. He is thought to be--pound for pound, inch-for-inch and punch for punch--the best puglist in the world...a fighter without a flaw.”
Peter King penned in 1981, “Watching Arguello fight is like enjoying the subtleties of a great Renaissance masterpiece. There is rich color and detail in his performance. His jabs are straight, strong and accurate. His body punches are delivered with care. His right crosses and left hooks are issued with an awesome potency. Yet this great fighter-perhaps one of the greatest ever-is largely unknown.”
Boxing writer and analyst Frank Lotierzo wrote, “Arguello mostly fought a somewhat pressure style. He didn't pressure his opponents like a Frazier or Duran; it was more a subtle type pressure like Joe Louis. Another thing Arguello shared with Louis was that they were vulnerable versus fighters who had fast feet. That's not saying they couldn't fight fighters that had good movement. It is verifying that fighters who moved against them usually fared the best. The fighters who brought the fight to Arguello are the ones who he defeated in the most devastating fashion.”
Alexis Arguello was born in Managua, Nicaragua in abject poverty. Like Roberto Duran he learned to fight on the tough streets of the inner Central American city of his birth. Arguello was taught the basics of boxing from a brother-in-law in Managua. Seeing boxing as an opportunity to escape the drudgery of a life of poverty, Alexis dedicated himself to the sport at the age of 14. Displaying a natural punch Alexis compiled an amateur record of 58-2 with 48 knockouts before turning pro at the age of 16. As a professional Alexis racked up a record of 36 wins with 29 knockouts while suffering only 2 early career losses fighting almost exclusively out of Managua during his first 5 years as a pro.
At age 21 he challenged for his first world title facing veteran WBA Featherweight champion Ernesto Marcel in the champions hometown of Panama. Marcel was a slick and clever outboxer who used his greater experience to stay out of range of Arguello’s heavier punches and box his way to a unanimous 15-round decision. After the bout Marcel retired never giving the young fighter a chance to avenge his heartbreaking loss.
Hard hitting former champion Ruben Olivares won the WBA title vacated by Marcel. Meanwhile Arguello put himself back into title contention by knocking out top contender Art Hafey and then winning the Central American Featherweight title by besting Oscar Aparisio. He was then granted a second title opportunity against the great Mexican world champion Olivares. It turned out to be a classic war with Olivares leading on the scorecards after 12 rounds. In the 13th a devastating left hook sent Olivares crashing to the canvas. Olivares got up but was soon finished by the explosive thin man. Alexis Arguello, age 22, was now featherweight champion of the world.
Arguello made 4 successful defenses of the Featherweight title before moving up to capture the 130 pound Jr. Lightweight championship. He faced an outstanding champion in Alfredo Escalera on Jan. 28, 1978 in Bayamon, Puerto Rico. Escalera had 10 successful defenses of his WBC Jr. Lightweight title and was no easy mark. It turned out to be a great fight that some hailed as “The Bloody Battle of Bayamon.” The fights Referee Arthur Mercante called it “the most brutal fight I have ever witnessed.” Escalera had his ears, nose and mouth busted but was rallying on the scorecards when Arguello caught him and finished him in the 13th round. Arguello had won his second divisional title. At age 25 he was in his physical prime as a fighter.
Alexis was at his peak at 130 pounds. He looked all but invincible in this weight class. He was physically stronger, and maintained the devastating punch that had made him such a dangerous featherweight. At junior lightweight he successfully defended the title 8 times defeating outstanding fighters such as Ruben Castillo, and future titleholders Bobby Chacon, Bazooka Limon and Rolando Navarette.
In 1981 Alexis Arguello decided to attempt something that had been done by only a few all time great fighters previously, that is become a triple crown champion by moving up to the 135 pound lightweight division. In London, England in front of a hostile crowd who was literally singing praises to WBC champion Jim Watt, Alexis Arguello dominated the southpaw champion in scoring a clear unanimous decision verdict to join Bob Fitzsimmons, Barney Ross, Tony Canzoneri, Henry Armstrong and Wilfred Benitez (who had won his triple crown the previous month) as boxing’s only 3 division champions in history to that time. Arguello was recognized as the best fighter in his weight class when he held the title in each of those divisions. Today multi-divisional champions are somewhat cheapened due to the existence of so many sanctioning bodies, but when Arguello won his triple crown it was considered a major accomplishment that ranked him with the all time greats of history.
Although Arguello was clearly considered the best lightweight in the world during his title reign he was not quite the awesome force he had been at 126 and 130 pounds. Arguello still carried a heavy punch but was not quite as devastating as he had been. He made up for this with his experience, ring smarts and calm in the ring. He was still a great champion successfully defending his title 4 times at 135. In 3 divisions Arguello won a total of 19 title fights covering a span of 8 years without loss in a championship fight.
Due to his success and looking for a large payday Alexis challenged undefeated Jr. Welterweight champion Aaron Pryor for the 140 pound championship on Nov 12, 1982 in Miami. Pryor was a fast, powerful, swarming puncher with a great chin. As expected Pryor started quickly but Arguello stayed right with him as they exchanged hard punches. Pryor had it going his way early and stunned Alexis several times. In the mid to late rounds Arguello seemed to be solving Pryor’s style as Alexis came on. In the 13th round Pryor was hurt by a sizzling right cross that violently snapped his head back and Aaron walked slowly back to his corner. Between rounds Pryor’s trainer, Panama Lewis, who would later be banned from boxing for cheating, said, “Hand me that bottle, no not that one, the special one I mix.” It was never proven what was “mixed” in that bottle, but whatever it was it was illegal as anything other than water is not permissible for use in the corner. Pryor came out with renewed energy in the 14th round caught Alexis against the ropes with a flurry of powerful punches and stopped him. Alexis had made a great fight, but fell short in his bid for a 4th divisional championship against one of boxing’s best fighters ever in that weight class.
The controversy over the fight forced the WBA to sanction a rematch. 10 months later they fought again. This time Pryor fought a smarter fight mixing in movement with his attack from all angles. The fight was fought at a very fast pace and Pryor wore down and stopped Alexis easier in the second bout, this time in 10 rounds. Arguello retired after those bouts although he would go on to make a couple of ill-fated comebacks.
Ring magazine rated Alexis Arguello as the # 1 Jr. Lightweight of all time in its all time divisional ratings in 1996, and among the 20 best fighters of the last 80 years in 2002, and among the 20 best punchers of all time in 2003. Cox’s Corner considers Arguello among the top 5 greatest featherweights and the top 10 lightweights of all time, and he probably deserves recognition as the greatest Jr. Lightweight Champion ever.
Alexis Arguello was found dead in his home of Managua Nicaragua in 2009 from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the heart, he had committed suicide. He struggled for years with drug abuse, depression, and suicidal thoughts, he seemed to be a man that was torn apart inside emotionally. It's understandable, considering the crap that he went through in his life. He had become mayor of Managua Nicaragua in 2008, because he wanted to give back to his home, he wanted to help the poor, he was a great man but in the end, life and politics got the best of him.
Alexis and campaigning for mayor of Managua Nicaragua in 2008.
How Politics Took Down Nicaragua's Boxing Champ
Anyone who ever saw Alexis Arguello slug out a 13-round victory in the boxing ring knows he had the heart of a giant — too big, it seemed, to fit inside his skinny, 130-pound frame, which could pack a punch like a mule kick. Revered as the "Explosive Thin Man" and the "Gentleman of the Ring," Arguello — who committed suicide with a bullet to his heart on July 1 — was a champion like few others before him or after. Even on the rare occasion that he lost (he won 82 of his 90 career bouts), he gave an epic account of himself — two of his three world titles were won in marathon slugfests, and his 14-round battle against Aaron Pryor in 1982 is still remembered as one of the greatest fights in the history of boxing. It was Arguello's battles outside the ring that proved to be his downfall.
Much has been written and said about the legendary fighter's struggles with drugs, alcohol, depression and even suicidal tendencies. But less is known about how Arguello brought his fighter's spirit to his later career in Nicaraguan politics, which, unlike boxing, is not a gentleman's sport. "Politicians are a bunch of crooks," Arguello told me in a 2007 interview, after serving three years as the Sandinista vice mayor of Managua. He referred to the mayor's office as a "snake pit."
Nudged, he said, by God, Arguello sought redemption for a decade lost to drugs and recklessness by pulling himself together and entering a life of public service to help the poor. The skinny kid from Managua who had punched his way out of poverty was never accused of being an intellectual, but he was thoughtful in his own way. He likened his return to the capital after years on the road to Marco Polo sailing home to Venice after traveling the world.
Arguello tackled his first political job — as vice mayor of Managua — with a boxer's determination. "When I have to kill, I have to kill," Arguello said. "A man who makes a decision has to make it for the good of the country, and I love this country."
That love was first and foremost for Nicaragua's poor, out of whose ranks he'd risen. When a desperate father appealed for Arguello's help because he couldn't afford the expensive medical treatment to treat his 8-year-old daughter's leukemia, the fighter made the cause his own and tried to shame two Nicaraguan pharmaceutical companies into providing free treatment. When they hesitated, the champ came out swinging.
Arguello claims he told them, "You motherf___ers, do you know how much you sell every year? And you can't help out with a thousand dollars, you motherf___ers? You are a cheap motherf___er — you scumbag motherf___ers!"
The drug companies agreed to help.
"The girl is doing good and the dad loves me, man!" Arguello said, bursting into his manic Yogi Bear laugh.
Arguello tried to take a similar interest when other downtrodden folk sought his help. He told me he would sometimes lie awake in bed at night worrying about their problems and trying to think of ways he could help.
But a turning point for Arguello came when a not-so-poor supplicant came seeking his help. President Daniel Ortega was desperate for a mayoral candidate who would be both popular and subservient to the Sandinista leadership, and saw Arguello as the answer. Even though Ortega's first government had confiscated property and bank holdings from Arguello during the '80s, by 2007 the ex-champ felt indebted to the Sandinista Front for helping him out of drugs and giving him a shot at redemption. Plus, Arguello actually believed in the Sandinistas' message of defending the poor, and he embraced his new role with the fervor of a convert. He referred to the President as his "leader," and said Nicaragua would be "a heaven" if everyone agreed with Ortega.
But once the Sandinistas had Arguello in their clutches, the game changed for him. First Lady Rosario Murillo, who appointed herself head of his mayoral campaign, assigned minders to keep the fighter on a tight leash to minimize his wonderfully outrageous and innocent gaffes. (Arguello, in discussing his 14 years spent living in the U.S., remembered Thanksgiving as a commemoration of the day when the British declared a one-day truce during their invasion of New Orleans to sit down for a turkey dinner.)
The election itself was a fiasco. The Sandinistas were accused of vote-rigging, and days of violence followed the closing of the polls in Managua. Instead of finding atonement in politics, Arguello found controversy and ridicule. He was accused of winning by fraud and lampooned as a bumbling fool. The media dubbed him the "mayor appointed by the Supreme Electoral Council," and insinuated that his office was incompetent and corrupt — charges that would have felt like a low blow to a man who had prided himself on his transparency and ability to get things done.
Arguello's relationship with the Sandinistas also became strained, as Murillo appointed several yes-men to run the mayor's office. On several occasions, city council meetings were run by Arguello's handlers in his absence. His main function as mayor seemed to be to sit behind Ortega at Sandinista rallies and stand and wave to the crowd when announced by name.
Last week, following the tragic news of Arguello's death, an alleged suicide note circulated on the Internet saying Arguello didn't blame anyone for his decision, but that he was tired of being used and treated like an embarrassing drug addict. The alleged note ended with the advice, "Take care of democracy and don't be fooled by those who have fooled me."
While the note may very well turn out to be a hoax in a country with no shortage of pranksters, its sentiments reflect a commonly shared notion that Arguello, while a brilliantly graceful fighter and undisputed national icon, got in over his head in the world of Sandinista politics. In the end, it wasn't boxing or drugs, but rather politics, that made the champ cry "No más."
Some people think that Alexis Arguello was murdered by the Sandinista political party and that his death was not a suicide, I don't know if he was murdered for political reasons or really committed suicide, but I do know this, he was a good man at heart, he had his issues in life like we all do, but he was a good man. Life is a tough thing, it is filled with beauty, but the ugliness is always lurking underneath that beauty, and it rears it's ugly head from time to time. Sometimes it gets the better of us, but Alexis Arguello always fought his demons and more often than not he slayed them. He had a hard life, sh.. came at him from all different directions, life can really break a good man down and even destroy him. And that's what I see when I look at Alexis Arguello, I see one of the greatest boxers in history, and I see a good man that the ugliness of life overwhelmed and it's heartbreaking to see that happen to a good man.
One more good article about Alexis Arguello that was written right after he passed away. I cannot stress enough what a great fighter he was, this is a man who won world titles in three weight divisions and never lost a single title he won. Biology dictates that it's extremely difficult to move up in weight divisions in boxing and defeat world class fighters, Arguello was a rare breed. To watch him work in the ring is fascinating, the concentration, the way he studied before attacking, the patience, the discipline, the skill, the explosiveness, it is a thing of beauty.
On This Day: We lost the great Alexis Arguello
If the world was rocked by the death of pop genius Michael Jackson, boxing felt an equally crushing blow on Wednesday (July 1, 2009) with the sudden passing of Alexis Arguello, the legendary Nicaraguan who won – and never lost – world titles in three divisions.
He was found dead at his Managua home, aged only 57. A post mortem was to be carried out to determine the cause of death after this issue had gone to press, but there was some speculation that he had committed suicide.
It was no secret Arguello had struggled more than most following his retirement in January 1995, following the points loss to Scott Walker, a club-fighter, in Las Vegas. There had been several suicide attempts over the years.
Arguello was 42 against Walker, long past his immaculate prime, the days when he overcame Ray “Boom Boom” Mancini, Mexican southpaw Jose Luis Ramirez, "Rock-a-bye" Ruben Olivares, Britain’s Cornelius Boza-Edwards, Rolando Navarrete, Californian Golden Boy Bobby Chacon and Rafael “Bazooka” Limon, all of whom would go on to become world champions.
But it was thought the Hall of Famer had got his life together, having been elected mayor of Managua last year when he ran for the Sandinista National Liberation Front Party.
It was as if he had finally discovered peace at last, that to be voted into such an esteemed position served to provide, to some degree, the adoration and respect he always enjoyed from his fans as a fighter, as well as closure on a dark political chapter earlier in his life.
Arguello had fled to the United States during a civil war as the left wing Sandinista regime took over in 1979 and confiscated his home worth up to half a million dollars. The bloodshed also claimed the life of Arguello’s younger brother.
This all came several years after Arguello had a home destroyed by a violent earthquake in 1972.
Arguello bravely returned to the battlefront to fight against the takeover, ploughed much of his own wealth into purchasing medical supplies and clothing for his ‘people’ and this earned him much respect and sympathy.
He took that courage into the ring. He was as cool and composed a fighter as anyone could possibly imagine. Eddie Futch, his American trainer, once described him as having “the best concentration of any fighter he had seen.”
His tall, wiry 5ft 10in frame, coupled with the power that saw him knock out or stop 65 from 82 career wins, made the nickname “Explosive Thin Man” more than appropriate.
But as well as being a ruthless, calculated puncher – he could knock out an opponent early or late and with the straight right or left hook – Arguello was a master boxer and superb tactician.
Jim Watt, Britain’s former WBC lightweight champion, discovered that at Wembley in 1981, when Arguello came over to challenge him, bidding for his third ‘world’ title in so many divisions during a time when there were only two governing bodies in operation.
Southpaw Watt was making his sixth defence and had already seen off Howard Davis, America’s Val Barker winner from the 1976 Olympics, and Sean O’Grady.
When I broke the news of Arguello’s death to him this week, Watt recalled his fight with the Nicaraguan.
“What a classy guy,” he said. “I’d won the title late. I knew it wasn’t going to last. I thought I’d get as many defences as I could and get money in the bank.
“Boxers are great guys, but sometimes there’s trash-talking. I’d been through it against Charlie Nash and Sean O’Grady. The first time I met Alexis was at a press conference in London. He walked over, held out his hand and said, ‘Pleased to meet you, Jim. How’s your family?’”
“What do you say to that? It threw me completely. I didn’t expect him to be such a gentleman. But that’s how he conducted himself, impeccably.”
The unflappable, charming, strikingly handsome Arguello wouldn’t fall for anything Watt tried in the ring.
“He was noticeably better than anyone I boxed. I’d perhaps reached the stage where I didn’t have the same ambition as when I fought Davis. But Arguello was always in front of you, not in a Barry McGuigan high- tempo sort of way. But he just had such long arms and used the range so well. He could thump to the body, too.”
Japan’s Royal Kobayashi, knocked out in five by Arguello for the WBA featherweight title in 1975 (Alexis’ third defence), said he just couldn’t see those wicked body shots coming.
“He was competent at everything he did,” said Watt. “There was nothing flashy. In the early rounds he hit me with a jab and I remember thinking, ‘Christ!’ That was a jab! It [the power] must have come from his terrific balance.
“I had thrived on annoying opponents, getting them to make mistakes, then hit them with the southpaw jab. But with Alexis, forget it. He threw punches when he knew it was time.
“I couldn’t have lost to a classier fighter. He was better than I was. I knew halfway into that fight I wasn’t going to beat him.”
Yet while Watt never had any difficulty walking away from boxing – in fact he must be one of the very few who actually looked forward to retirement – Arguello found it painfully difficult.
The news of Alexis’ death came as a particular shock to Watt because they’d met each other again only last year.
“I thought he had his life back in order,” said Jim. “Nothing looked wrong with his health. It must be so difficult with all the highs he had in his career. I always knew that as soon as the title went, then so would I.
“I enjoyed being a former champ as much as I did being the champ. Some fighters can’t. It’s tragic what has happened. But Alexis was a special fighter. That he never lost in the ring any of the titles he won puts him in a special club.”
Watt was also one of many who believed Arguello would make history in November 1982 in Miami when he challenged Aaron Pryor, the wild and extravagant American WBA light-welterweight champion. Victory would have made Arguello the first boxer in history to bag world titles in four divisions.
Their 14-round thriller is one of the greatest fights of the modern era. Arguello hit Pryor with everything, but simply couldn’t shift him and, having given his all, was smashed to defeat.
They would meet again, nearly a year later in Las Vegas, and again it was a spectacular show. Arguello was dumped early, but got up, tagged Pryor with some superb rights, and, resigned by having failed to make an impression, famously sat out the count in the 10th round. He knew he’d been beaten.
That wasn’t typical Arguello. He was no quitter. But Pryor was special and the two, curiously, would form a remarkable bond in the years that followed.
Tris Dixon, my colleague, phoned Pryor for his reaction to the stunning news and Aaron was understandably torn.
Usually, they get together each year at Canastota’s Hall of Fame. But, for whatever reason, Arguello wasn’t there this year.
Pryor’s wife, Frankie, said: “We missed him. But I can’t believe it [that he’s dead]. Aaron’s pretty upset. We have always been close. We went out to Nicaragua to help him campaign for two weeks when he became mayor.
“Alexis’ son and Aaron’s son were at elementary school in Miami together and from the time of the fight they’ve been friends. I always remember Alexis saying he and Aaron had a unique relationship.
“In Nicaragua they called Aaron Alexis’ Papa because he had taught him life lessons. Aaron adored Alexis and the feeling was mutual.”
The pair shared common life experiences, having both conquered demons with drugs even though they came from very different beginnings.
“I was just so happy for him when he became mayor,” said Pryor. “We went to his country and there were 300,000 there for him. They loved Alexis. He was in good shape and living a good life. I will never have a friend like him again. It’s really hurt my heart. I didn’t know how to conduct myself until I met him. He was a gentleman. He was my best friend.”
Arguello didn’t fight again for two years after the second Pryor loss. The defeat was crushing and impacted heavily on his life. That’s when the cocaine-use problems started and was followed by a break-up in the family. The five houses, a yacht, Mercedes and BMW, plus wife and four children, went as well.
So Arguello returned to the ring, thrashed former WBC 10st champ Billy Costello in his second fight back, but then quit again when diagnosed with a heart problem.
No-one ever thought they’d see Arguello fight again. But over eight years later, against his better judgement and getting into middle age, he tried once more. Those splendid gifts of his youth had gone, however, even if Alexis refused to accept it until Walker beat him.
In his prime he was such a sleek fighter, though. He cut Alfredo Escalera to ribbons in their WBC super-featherweight title first fight in 1978 and then knocked him out in the same time in the return in Italy the next year. In 1974 he had also knocked out Ruben Olivares in 13 before 14,000 fans in Los Angeles as a featherweight.
Only eight defeats in 90 professional fights for a kid who grew up on the streets and had to go to work at 13 is some achievement. He made his mark in the toughest of all sports.
It’s a reflection of how highly regarded Arguello was that during the 1980s he’d been mentioned as a possible opponent for welterweight champ Sugar Ray Leonard and that in 1978 some believed him to be the only legitimate threat to then-9st 9lbs king Roberto Duran.
Arguello’s trainer of the time, Al Silvani, certainly believed so. He remembers the day he first set eyes on Arguello.
“His manager called me to Managua and asked me to start training him,” he said.
“I went down and first thing I wanted to do was look him over. I didn’t want to try to change him. I only wanted to observe him to see how he trained, to see how dedicated he was, to see his style.
“I didn’t want to wake him up. I wanted to see if he would get up on his own. Well, 10 minutes went by, then 15, then 20 and pretty soon I started to wonder if this kid was lazy and needed to be pushed.
“Just about the time I decided to wake him up, he comes in from outside. He had already done his running.
“Right then and there I realised how much dedication he had.”
So let's take a look at a few of Alexis Arguello's greatest fights.
Alexis Arguello vs Ruben Olivares
Alexis Arguello detonates a left hook on Ruben Olivares
This fight really put Alexis Arguello on the map, it would be his first world championship and it came against the legendary "Rock-a-bye" Ruben Olivares, one of the hardest punchers and greatest fighters to ever step in the ring.
Back in November of 1974, nothing indicated that Nicaragua’s Alexis Arguello would become a world champion anytime soon.
Arguello was 35-4 back then, including an early run of 3-2 in his beginnings and a failed attempt to lift his first title against Panama´s Ernesto Marcel in February of that same year. Other than a win over a washed-up version of Cuban-Spanish former titlist Jose Legra and a handful of victories over a slew of fringe contenders, Arguello was just another title challenger trying to attempt the next-to-impossible task of wrestling the same WBA belt he had attempted to take from Marcel, but this time against the murderous punching Mexican legend "Rock-a-bye" Ruben Olivares.
To make matters worse, Arguello would be facing Olivares in The Forum at Inglewood, a home-away-from-home for Mexican fighters.
Things went as planned for the first 12 rounds or so, Olivares outmuscled and outhustled his younger foe, and the fight would have ended up being an easy defense of his belt if it had happened in the 12-round era.
But this was still the 15-round championship years, and Arguello came out for the 13th looking to turn all the bad luck of that unlucky number on Olivares’ shoulders.
And he did. Only a few seconds into the round, Arguello landed a short left hook to drop Olivares on his back.
Badly hurt, the champion got the nod from the referee to continue fighting. But after a long exchange in which Olivares received at least two dozen clear punches to the head, he finally succumbed to a short right uppercut and Arguello lifted Nicaragua´s first-ever boxing title in a sensational stoppage win.
Many more title fights would follow for Arguello. But that first belt and that triumph in a war of attrition against one of Mexico’s toughest champs was the first sign of the greatness that he would achieve in his extraordinary career.
Comments
His knockouts were often frightening.
The referee has to pull Olivares off of Valentin Galeano, Olivares' left hook was devastating.
Olivares vs Castillo.
Olivares vs Rudkin.
Ruben Olivares training.
Ruben Olivares in the gym
Ruben Olivares lands an uppercut.
Ruben Olivares vs Bobby Chacon.
Olivares lands a left to the chin of Castillo.
The great Ruben Olivares.
"Look at his number of knockouts,” the late Hall of Fame writer Bert Sugar once told The Ring. “He was a dual champion. He was never in an unexciting fight. He had a left hook from hell. Everything about him said ‘great fighter"
"Rock-a-bye" Ruben Olivares.
Sandy Saddler, featherweight. Most people consider Willie Pep to be the greatest featherweight in history, but Sandy Saddler is right there with him. As far as the featherweight division is concerned, Saddler was a nightmare for his opponents, he was 5'9" tall, and very lanky and he used his size to his advantage, roughing his opponents up brutally, he was a seek and destroy type fighter. He was also one of the hardest punchers in boxing history, he knocked out 103 opponents, that's #6 on the all-time knockout list. He's most famous for his four fights with Willie Pep, four of the most brutal fights in history, three of which Saddler won, they put each other through pure hell in those fights. The great George Foreman was a protege of Sandy Saddler and learned a lot from him, Sandy taught George to basically go right after your opponent and try to destroy him, that was Sandy Saddler. To watch Sandy Saddler on film is to watch a Terminator hunt his prey, he was a machine programmed to destroy.
Standing over 5’8” tall but fighting as a bantamweight and featherweight through much of his career, Sandy Saddler was one of boxing’s genuine physical freaks, a rickety-looking beanpole with dumbfounding punching power. Saddler scored more knockouts (103) than any other featherweight champion in history and ranks high on the number of knockout wins regardless of weight class.
He was more than a simple puncher, though. Saddler was capable of boxing cleverly behind a long, damaging left jab or of using roughhouse brawling tactics when the moment called for it — and sometimes even when it didn’t. Win, lose, or draw, Sandy Saddler made sure opponents did not get out of the ring unscathed.
Born in Boston but raised in New York by immigrants from the West Indies, Saddler turned professional as a bantamweight (118 pounds) in 1944, at age 17. He went undefeated in 24 fights throughout the year 1945, 20 of those ending by way of knockout. The champions at bantamweight and featherweight (126 pounds) avoided him for years, locking him out of a shot at the featherweight laurels until his ninety-fourth professional bout.
On October 29, 1948, Saddler upset the legendary Willie Pep, whose record was an unbelievable 134–1–1 at the time, scoring a shocking fourth-round knockout to take the title away. In all, Saddler and Pep would do battle four times, each conflict more ruthless than the last. Pep scored his defining victory by brilliantly outboxing Sandy in their second encounter in 1949, but he still exited the ring a bloody mess. Sandy took the final two, stopping Pep in both and regaining the title in the process.
The third fight was a foul-filled affair but even that could not compare with the shocking chaos of their fourth encounter on September 26, 1951, in New York’s Polo Grounds. Through nine rounds, Pep and Saddler tripped, gouged, elbowed, butted, head-locked, heeled, and wrestled each other until Pep’s badly swollen right eye could take no more and the fight was stopped. In one of the most viciously fought rivalries in the history of the sport, Saddler emerged the winner in three of four contests against one of boxing’s living legends.
Between the Pep fights, Saddler continued to perform excellently against other elite names in the sport. He did not defend his titles often, but he fought dozens of non-title fights between his defenses. Often fighting above the featherweight limit and not always taking his opponents seriously, Saddler lost a lot of his non-title matches, but when a belt was on the line, he always showed up prepared.
Sandy won a second division championship at junior lightweight (130 pounds) on December 6, 1949, in Cleveland against Orlando Zulueta and would defend it twice before entering the U.S. Army, serving two years in the service. He held onto both belts with a thirteenth-round stoppage of future Hall of Famer Flash Elorde in 1956 and retired a few months later at age 30 as a reigning two-division champion after sustaining injuries in a car accident. He was only stopped once in 162 professional outings, and that was in his second pro fight.
Cheated out of most of his ring earnings by unscrupulous promoters and managers and entirely forgotten by casual sports fans as one of the greatest boxers of his generation, Saddler became a boxing trainer in retirement. He served as a cornerman for heavyweight champion George Foreman in the 1970s. But his true legacy will always be rooted in winning three fights in his bitterly contested four-bout rivalry with the legendary Pep.
Like I said, Sandy Saddler taught George Foreman a lot, if you watch Foreman in his prime, you notice the similar seek and destroy type style.
Saddler was vicious in ring
By George Foreman
ESPN.com contacted George Foreman to discuss Sandy Saddler, the great featherweight champion who died in 2001. Here are some of Foreman's thoughts:
On working with Saddler
I met Sandy Saddler when I went to New York City to work out for a fight with Donald Waldheim. Sandy helped Dick Sadler and I out in the gym as far as finding sparring partners. From that time on, Sandy was in my corner any time I went to New York City. He was always second in charge behind Dick Sadler at all the big fights I had in Madison Square Garden. Whenever their was a big fight anywhere, Sandy was there -- in Kingston, Jamaica; Caracas, Venezuela and the last fight we worked together in Africa against Muhammad Ali.
On Saddler's influence
Dick knew I had so much respect for Sandy. If he couldn't get a point over, he knew if I heard it from Sandy I would do what I was told. One time I had been training really well in California and just kind of stumbled into a vegetarian diet. Dick was with me in an examination and the doctor said "George, you don't eat meat do you?" I said, "how'd you know that?" "I can tell by the tests," said the doctor. Dick looked me in the eye and kind of swelled up and said "You can't do that. I did all this work to make you champion and you go off and eat just salads?" I wasn't going to stop being a vegetarian, though. Dick brought Sandy out to Oakland, Calif. and let me tell you, Sandy jumped all over me and told me the virtues of meat. He made me eat some bacon right in front of him. Sandy was just an important guy to me. If ever a point needed to be made, call Sandy Saddler.
On Saddler in the ring
As a boxer, Sandy was vicious. There is no other word to describe him in the ring. He would try to really put that into me. When he was in the ring, he knew nothing about retreat. Everything was about get him, get him, get him. Going back to my corner during my fight with Ali, even when I was burning out, I could hear Sandy saying "get him, get him, get him." That was the one thing about him, he knew how important it was to the boxing world to have one fighter bring the fight. No matter what happened, he thought it was important to be true to boxing fans and go at the opponent.
On Saddler and Willie Pep
Sometimes when he talked about his fights with Willie Pep, it would get on his nerves a little bit. At the time he was not in the Boxing Hall of Fame and he thought it was because of his eye injury. He'd always say Willie did this to him and Willie did that to him. One day just when they were getting the new Garden organized, he did an exhibition with Willie Pep. They were just playing around and he said Willie told him to "take it easy Sandy." He always laughed at that story. I think that Willie telling him to take it easy gave him a little freedom from those Wille Pep matches. He'd just break his side laughing that Willie didn't want him to hurt him. You never heard Sandy laugh much, but that always tickled him. That exhibition they fought in Madison Square Garden brought peace to him and Willie Pep.
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Sandy Saddler was a very complex fighting machine, there was method to his madness. This is a great scientific analysis of his style. I apologize for not being able to post the videos to go along with the article, but this stuff is worth it's weight in Gold regardless.
Sandy Saddler: The Lil’ Terminator
The single greatest featherweight ever is Willie Pep. It’s practically an impossible point to argue against. Arguably the greatest defensive fighter in the storied history of the sport - simply listing Pep’s accolades is probably an exercise in futility. His record stands for itself, as does his impeccable control of the ring with procedural, dancing steps to lead opponents into his selections and outmaneuver them all day long whilst barely sustaining even a scratch. Not a single movement was wasted - it was all in the smallest of moves having the maximal effect. Pep was a genius and an artist as much as any fighter you could ever find.
Joseph ‘Sandy’ Saddler, the probable second greatest featherweight at best, stood as the complete opposite of Pep in every way. Pep was all about controlling engagements; Saddler wanted to force rugged confrontation. Pep lacked the firepower to kill, so he made his selections as precise and purposeful as any; Saddler was arguably the most horrific puncher in the entire division’s history and didn’t care what he missed so long as he could continue his assault. Pep set traps and played the world’s greatest matador; Saddler looked to trap and charge like the world’s meanest of bulls. Pep fought like he was an artist trying to paint a masterpiece with careful, subtle efforts; Saddler fought like he wanted to maul his adversary with rugged aggression. Willie Pep was the greatest featherweight, but Sandy Saddler was the most terrifying.
He proved that by pursuing and cutting Pep down to a thorough stoppage in three of their four confrontations. Only one of the greatest performances in a boxing ring, that, unfortunately remains sought after footage, saw Pep managing to see the final bell by outworking, outboxing and outfighting Saddler and his face was still battered beyond recognition in the process.
According to Saddler’s record of nearly 162 bouts, he was stopped only once - in his second fight. In the footage we have of Saddler, it was rare to ever see him even discouraged or even rattled. With only an unyielding, killing goal in mind, Sandy Saddler was the quintessential hunter, walking his opponents down, drawing their fire and then battering them until they couldn’t stand. Of Saddler’s 144 victims, only 36 of them saw the final bell and those that did appeared to be nothing less than broken and beaten.
To find a fighter to create parallel comparatives for Saddler is easy enough: George Foreman was not just a protege of Saddler (Sandy’s cousin Dick Sadler was Foreman’s principle trainer) he was a heavyweight variant of the featherweight great. Although Foreman relied more upon his raw power to intercept opponent entries, he was willing to pressure like Saddler and lead them into killshots. What did separate Saddler from Foreman appeared to be how both weaponized attrition. Foreman’s was about that singular, moving force colliding with the opponent and making them collapse until its vaunted weight. Saddler, though, pursued and ripped his enemies up to the ribs before mauling them up close. Foreman could be called a big man’s Saddler and Saddler a small man’s Foreman, but Big George was about the big moments whereas Saddler’s preoccupation minded itself towards breaking bodies.
Differences aside, the bread-and-butter of how both pressured were comparable. Primarily, Saddler would look to cut his opponents off and put them into the corner or into the clinch. Like his arch-rival Willie Pep, Saddler’s steps were more measured than they were fleeting. With Saddler, the intention was to corner and then expend energy battering the opponent unconscious.
To keep the pursuit up, Saddler employed a varied combination of a cross arm guard and a long guard. Long guards are an employment of using outstretched arms to take strikes on the forearms or shoulders and to close the distance into the clinch. They benefit fighters who want to be aggressive and impose their strength. Taller, longer pugilists utilize the long guard because it also forces their opponents to close the distance into a closer range; the elbows and forearms will catch shots. However, long guards are more demanding to pull off in boxing than in other combat sports, such as Muay Thai, because long guard practitioners typically will have to use kicks and knees to close the gap or to maintain range. In boxing, that luxury is no longer available and foot movement has a higher priority. To make ends meet, Saddler would fix in a cross-arm guard too.
Cross-arm guards have the fighter hold their rear hand high and slightly outstretch their lead hand. Ideally, the right hand acts as both a feeler - to parry shots upstairs - and feeder - to constantly threaten with the right hand. The lead hand, at its extension, is capable of hand-fighting and jabbing to keep control of range. Ideally, a cross-arm guard is about maintaining constant contact while catching-and-pitching back. These two guards, in combination, could make it difficult for opponents to get through even if they manipulated it because Saddler would fold the rear arm across his chest or quickly reposition.
Note how Saddler’s arm length allows him to probe, touch and frame and set up other offenses.
Saddler’s goal to get a hold of his opponent and his arm length then acted as ancillary threats with a caveat. Because Saddler is constantly on the offensive, he has to touch and engage constantly. As a result, his ringcutting and shot selection has to be on point to keep those engagements on his terms.
Many of Saddler’s jabs work as throwaways or potshots to force an opponent to circle to his right, where he threatens a right overhand. In reality, Saddler’s money punch is his left hook or shovel uppercut - the success to which it lands is crafted through the jab and the overhand’s threat. When Saddler throws, it is a rapid transfer of weight to enforce his god-given power and drive the opponent back even more. If they anticipate hook, Saddler will break rhythm and commit to straight rights, body and head to keep them guessing and back towards the lead hand. If not, they just keep moving backwards.
If anything else, Saddler’s offensive ringcraft would not be as punishing if not for his commitment to the body. He will alternate his jabs, hooks and uppercuts to the midsections, slowly debilitating them as he pushes his opponents backwards. To cut off their escapes or to sustain his pressure, he’ll use right hooks or straights to the body with maximum force. By changing his mixups and constantly feinting, Saddler can keep his man guessing about which way to move while slowly and methodically breaking their will to flee and try to stand their ground.
Unfortunately, a closer range is exactly what Saddler would look for. As soon as he was within reach of them, Saddler would look for underhooks or overhooks to convert to a single collar tie or wrist control. Once he had control of an arm (usually with wrist-control) and pushed the head down to break their posture, he would begin firing uppercuts without even a modicum of restraint.
If he couldn’t convert to a collar tie, Saddler was content to use overhooks or underhooks to make chest-to-chest contact and deliver consistent shots relative to his head position until he could create the space for those collar ties.
On the ropes, the possible damage would only accumulate dramatically. There, Saddler would also grab wrists or employ frames to continue the mauling. If they got away, Saddler would continue to use throwaway or successful offense to convert to collar ties or handtrap the wrist.
In a word, Saddler’s tactics were not the kind of allowances that would be allowed in the modern boxing scene. Even back then, Saddler gained notoriety by being too rough and willing to bend the rules. Combined with an iron will and ungodly durability, Sandy Saddler was going to get to an opponent at some point. It was how they dealt with the terminator that often determined how intelligent and gritty they were. Willie Pep, as great a ring general as you could ever find, constantly struggled to find routes away from Saddler’s unrelenting hounding.
When the components of Saddler’s game came together, he didn’t just beat his opponents down. He mauled them with the rarest of fury.
That said, Saddler had evident limitations with his game. The most obvious is that his best defense was often his best offense.
Because Saddler wanted to close range and hold, he was liable to be caught quite a bit upon entry if he couldn’t slip nor smother. A clever outfighter, for instance, could trick Saddler into standing square and counter him on the spot or force longer exchanges, whereupon Saddler usually struggled. Likewise, Saddler could overcommit and be turned. His durability and conditioning allowed him to hide how much effort and time he had to devote to an attritional, incredibly physical style and is indicative that it wouldn’t quite have worked for others without the New Yorker’s physicality or propensity to bend the rules. In short, Saddler had to resign to taking shots in order to enforce his game; were he not Sandy Saddler specifically, that strategy may well not have worked.
(You may have noticed quite a bit of Willie Pep clips in here. I want to take this time to shill out for how incredibly great their fourth fight is. A high level of ringcraft and both men fouling each other. It ought to make you incredibly disappointed their second bout isn’t available.)
Perhaps the greatest weakness, however, was that Saddler was demonstrably more effective if he was the one pressing. Saddler’s guard made it tricky to hit him upstairs at range because of his proactive catching and pitching, but a determined combination puncher could cross counter over his forearms (e.g. Ali-Foreman) or target Saddler’s endlessly-exposed midsection and then go upstairs.
Against a willing infighter, especially one who positioned his head under his own, Saddler became far less efficient and imposing in close. Because he doesn’t have the space to uppercut or hold, a shorter man could smother the lankier Saddler and force him to work. Saddler did employ counter uppercuts to punish entries versus said fighters, but the point still stood: If he couldn’t put them on the backfoot and they could him, he found himself in a gritty attritional battle whereupon he no longer held control of how the engagements happened. Ergo, in the opinion of this writer, someone with the infighting prowess of a Henry Armstrong, barring being hurt on entry, may have made Saddler’s life a living hell.
Nonetheless, Sandy Saddler stands as one of the most prolific, accomplished fighters in ring history. His three victories over Willie Pep, among anything else, inform that he wasn’t just an offensive tank. Sandy Saddler was an intelligent terminator and looked to take advantage of everything he could to win and hurt the men standing in front of him until they were a ruined, unconscious figure on the canvas. Boxing’s featherweight division has had its share of power punchers and knockout artists - the fact that Saddler is considered its most accomplished says something.
One other thing about Sandy Saddler, he had a jab that he threw at a downward angle, he did this on purpose, it was designed to tear an opponents skin and open up a cut. It was called the slashing jab.
Sandy Saddler fought Willie Pep four times, they were some of the most violent and brutal fights in the history of boxing, Saddler won three of the four. Now, Willie Pep is in the conversation for the greatest pound for pound fighter that ever lived, going into the first Sandy Saddler fight, Willie Pep's record was 134-1, he could box your ears off and is one of the greatest defensive fighters ever, he was a master the art of "hit and not be hit." It was once said that Willie Pep was so good that he could sneak up on you from behind and hit you. In 1947 Willie Pep was in a plane crash in which three people died, Pep was one of eleven survivors but the crash left him with a broken leg and two chipped vertebrae in his back. Well, he recovered from the plane crash, resumed his career and went 131-10 after the crash, to finish his career with an overall record of 229-11. That was Willie Pep. Anyway, going into the first fight with Sandy Saddler, Willie Pep had already survived the crash and his record was 134-1. Now, you have to understand, Willie Pep was 5'5" and Saddler was 5'9", so Pep gave away four inches to Saddler, and Saddler had lanky arms and the reach advantage. On top of that, Saddler was a vicious bastard and one of the hardest punchers in boxing history, so Willie Pep shouldn't be slighted for losing three of the four fights against Saddler, Pep was up against odds that were hard to overcome.
Willie Pep vs Sandy Saddler 1
This fight took place in 1948, Willie Pep came into this fight with a record of 134-1, he had been world featherweight champion for six years, Saddler was the underdog and captured the title by knocking Pep down four times en route to a fourth round knockout victory. This was only the second time that Pep was beaten, Sammy Angott beat him in 1943, and this was the first time Willie Pep was ever stopped in 137 bouts.
Sandy Saddler knocks down Willie Pep in round three.
Sandy Saddler knocks Willie Pep out in round four to win the world featherweight championship.
Willie Pep vs Sandy Saddler II
It was shocking to see the great Willie Pep lose his featherweight crown after six years, especially the way he did, by violent knockout. You just didn't see Willie Pep lose, especially by knockout. But in the rematch with Saddler, Willie Pep showed the world why he was the greatest featherweight in the history of boxing.
Feb. 11, 1949: Pep vs Saddler II
There is a certain mystique to legendary fights of yesteryear, a nostalgia that speaks of a time when ‘The Sweet Science’ was larger than life and ruled supreme. There are but a few wise old heads left lucky enough to have witnessed some of the greatest fights in boxing history, but with no film to view many of them, the rest of us are left to ponder just how great they really were.
The second meeting between Hartford’s Willie Pep and Harlem’s Sandy Saddler, a bout awarded Ring Magazine’s Fight of the Year award for 1949, is a perfect example of such a match. For most of us, all that is left are the stories of the fight’s immensity, stories told through newspaper men who were on hand to witness it, the words weaving a tale of the skill, bravery and guile on display.
When Pep lost his title to Saddler on October 29th, 1948, many believed the career of one of the greatest featherweights of all-time had come to an abrupt end. Pep had been knocked out in the fourth round and the general consensus, as noted in a report in The Milwaukee Journal, was that he was finished: “Willie Pep is all washed up after losing his featherweight boxing championship to Sandy Saddler. That seems to be the consensus following Friday night’s stunning knockout victory for Saddler, a lean Harlem puncher, in 2:38 of the fourth round.”
While Pep may well have been the best featherweight the world has ever seen, the knockout loss to Saddler, the toll of some 136 fights, and the plane crash that nearly took his life in 1947, proved enough for many to label him a shot fighter. But, as the old adage goes, ‘beware the wounded warrior.’
Pep came to pre-eminence in 1942 when he outpointed fellow Hall of Fame inductee Albert “Chalky” Wright at Madison Square Garden in New York. He would be 62-0 before his first professional loss, a non-title decision to lightweight champion, Sammy Angott. The loss meant little in the featherweight division however, as Pep still ruled supreme and he would go unbeaten in 72 straight fights before running into the heavy hands of Saddler.
Sandy Saddler, the big puncher from Harlem took Pep's title in a four round knock out in '48.
Sandy Saddler took Pep’s title in a four round knockout in ’48.
Superlatives can’t do justice to Pep’s reign over the 126 pound division, but the shocking and violent manner in which Saddler had taken his crown resulted in few boxing fans believing Pep had what it took to take the title back. After all, Saddler’s run to the top was one that came by way of brute force. The lanky Harlem native owned one of the sport’s biggest punches and he had dispatched many a featherweight and lightweight with his vicious punches before finally getting his chance at the title.
Pep vs Saddler II was set for February 11th, 1949, but it took place only because of a clause in the contract between Pep and the Twentieth Century Sporting Club. Promoter Harry Markson held little hope that the rematch would be a success and a New York Times report referred to his surprise when the match proved to be a hot ticket.
The second meeting between the two featherweights wasn't expected to be the success it was.
The rematch between the two featherweights exceeded all expectations.
“Markson was agreeably surprised when the box office windows were first opened and a flood of orders for tickets came pouring in. He was even more surprised when these orders continued, and yesterday the fight impresario was downright bewildered as the late rush of applicants augured a certain capacity house. What seemed a white elephant at the start was transformed into a golden calf, one that promised to be worth more than $80,000 at the gate.”
Whether it was hope, respect, or a genuine belief that Willie Pep could in fact win his title back, it seemed as if the people had spoken: this was to be a fight of major importance. Some twenty thousand crammed into Madison Square Garden, just three months after the young lion from Harlem had devoured his older adversary, and the crowd was on hand to see whether the once-great Pep was up to the task of gaining his title back from such a ferocious opponent.
A capacity crowd was on hand to witness one of boxing’s greatest bouts.
The bell rang, and to the astonishment of the crowd, Pep went on the attack. He tattooed the face of Saddler with his quick left, landing some thirty-seven jabs in the opening stanza. The hand speed of the former champion was back, something many observers thought Pep had lost after watching his lacklustre performance in the first clash. The New York Times called Pep’s start to the bout “a demonstration of blinding speed that had Sandy looking like a novice.”
Saddler marched forward relentlessly, in spite of Pep’s jabs, but the Hartford slickster kept his heavy-hitting rival off him by way of his counter-punching prowess, as described by The Chicago Tribune: “Saddler was moving forward, measuring Willie with unblinking eyes, but Pep was too much for him with his counter-punching.” But counter-punching wasn’t Pep’s only strategy for keeping Saddler at bay. He utilized some ‘questionable tactics’ throughout the fight and was warned by the referee for wrestling in the first round and heeling Saddler in the face in the third.
But Pep couldn’t hold back forever the waves of destruction that were continually advancing and in the fourth the champion began to dent the defenses of the challenger. Sandy landed savage rips to the body and grazed Pep’s face numerous times, always just a few inches away from landing a blow that undoubtedly would have ended the contest, such was the dynamite power of Saddler’s fists.
Sandy landed a hard left in the fifth, opening a cut on Pep’s right cheek but the gash, which bled throughout the rest of the fight, did little to stop Pep from dominating his opponent. He landed all manner of punches over the next six rounds, attacking from every conceivable angle and displaying his supreme footwork, while avoiding the aggressive attempts from his adversary to land a knockout blow.
Pep displayed amazing skills and ring generalship.
Saddler started to gain momentum in the late rounds, opening a new cut over Pep’s right eye in the thirteenth and slamming home numerous teeth-rattling shots in the round that followed, but Pep weathered the storm and came out with his guns blazing for the final round. As The New York Times reported: “[Pep] gave his greatest thrill in the fifteenth when, after weathering the jarring fire of the fourteenth, he came back to fight Saddler all over the ring with a strength that few, if any, thought he possessed.”
The crowd erupted when the scores were announced and Pep’s hand was raised. “[W]ild turmoil broke out in the Garden,” reported The Chicago Tribune, “which was loaded with rabid Pep fans as announcer Johnny Addle gave the unanimous decision.”
Willie Pep had won back the featherweight championship of the world, becoming the first man to regain the title at 126 pounds since George Dixon back in 1898. But even more significantly, he had done it in spectacular fashion. While the second Pep vs Saddler battle had been competitive and exciting, all three judges scored for the famed “Will O’ The Wisp” by margins of five, six and seven points. The victory, and the way in which Pep bucked the odds and schooled such a capable and dangerous fighter, only solidified his place as one of the best boxers, pound-for-pound, of all-time.
Perhaps the words of famed boxing scribe James P. Dawson best illustrated the enormity of what Pep had achieved when he wrote: “Pep put up the greatest battle of his career. He called on every ounce of strength within his compact little body, and all the guile he has accumulated through eleven years as an amateur and professional fighter to gain the triumph. How well he succeeded is reflected in the tabulation of the officials. And in riding to victory he proved to be one of the greatest featherweight champions the ring has known.”
I was twelve-years-old when my uncle took me to watch this marvelous boxing match on one of the few televisions in the city. I was being personally plagued by a bully on my street and knew the time was nearing when I would have to stand up to him and I feared that inevitable day. My uncle had been telling me of the great Willie Pep and how he was so skilled in terms of head movement and footwork that opponents could not hit him with solid punches. I had to witness Willie in action to see if I could copy his style in my coming dreaded fight. Watching his performance, I became Willie’s greatest fan. His technique was flawless and I cheered my young heart out as I watched the great champion box his way to victory. After that I trained and trained with Willie’s style in mind every day, privately, for nearly three months. And then the day came when my adversary cornered me and I had no choice but to fight. But I didn’t fight; I boxed. I moved and crouched and danced side to side, watching my opponent sliding by, and then I would pop him with clean blows and be away before he could hit back, drawing blood from his mouth and nose. He soon tired of the match and walked away in disgust, telling the crowd around us, “I can’t hit him.” What a glorious day! After that I never ducked a challenge again. Thank you, champion Willie Pep. And thank you to my uncle who knew I would love the great “Will ‘o the Wisp.” And I still do to this day. God bless Guglielmo Papaleo, aka Willie Pep.
Willie Pep catches Sandy Saddler with a leaping left hook in the rematch, this famous image was featured on the 1996 Ringside Boxing card.
Willie Pep vs Sandy Saddler III
By the time the third fight rolled around, there was serious bad blood between these two, the third fight was a brutal affair filled with dirty fighting between both fighters. The fight ended when Willie Pep couldn't answer the bell for the eighth round because his left shoulder had become dislocated.
Sept. 8, 1950: Pep vs Saddler III
For die-hard fans of fisticuffs, those four syllables conjure up all kinds of recollections and images and important facts from the rich history of pugilism. Their storied feud is unlike any other in boxing history, and it was their third clash that established that fact, for good or ill. They were featherweights and yet they inspired truly heavyweight interest from American sports fans. And while both, even in their day, were regarded as two of the greatest to ever step into the ring, mutual respect was conspicuously absent from their compelling rivalry. The simple truth was Pep and Saddler hated each other with a passion.
Despite Pep’s great triumph the year before, and three subsequent title defenses, the odds-makers tabbed the champion as an eight-to-five underdog, reinforcing one of the major themes of the Pep vs Saddler rivalry, that being the general impression that Saddler was just too big, strong and powerful for Pep. And in fact, in the late going in the second fight, Pep had struggled with Saddler’s aggression and physical advantages. Thus the sharpies saw chapter three of the series as the bigger and younger man’s fight to lose.
So few were shocked when, despite Pep once again being the better boxer and using angles and sublime footwork to outfox the aggressor, Saddler scored a knockdown in round three. Soon after, Pep, no doubt frustrated with the challenger’s roughhouse tactics and his undeniable physical advantage, began to incorporate some less-than-honorable tactics into his performance. In addition to a pesky jab and quick combinations, Pep now incorporated some well-placed thumbs, along with plenty of pushing and shoving, not to mention a few stomps on Saddler’s toes.
Pep on the canvas in round three.
Well, Sandy didn’t need to be asked twice. He responded in kind and soon there was almost as much fouling going on as there was boxing. Pep controlled the match for the most part with his usual brilliant footwork and quick hands, while Saddler concentrated on a ruthless body attack. And at the same time, both fighters demonstrated themselves to be certified experts at the darker arts of ringcraft, freely indulging in plenty of lacing, gouging, tripping, thumbing and elbowing.
When the bell rang for round seven it was obvious that Pep had the edge in terms of points thanks to his superb boxing and plenty of clean right hands to the challenger’s jaw. In fact, some at ringside had scored only the third round for Saddler, the champion just too quick and slippery. But at the same time, Sandy’s vicious body punches, many of them straying under the belt line, were taking their toll. And indeed, a tiring Pep found himself in some difficulty in round seven as Saddler was able to close the gap and land more heavy lefts to both body and head, forcing Pep back and manhandling him.
At round’s end the fighters were locked in a vicious clinch on the ropes and when the bell rang and Pep retreated to his corner, all could see he was in agony. The ringside physician examined the stricken fighter and diagnosed a dislocated left shoulder; when round eight began Pep stayed on his stool. Saddler had regained the world title, though in a manner satisfying for no one; talk of a fourth Pep vs Saddler clash was widespread even before the stands in Yankee Stadium had completely emptied. The very next day, Harry Markson, president of the International Boxing Club, declared that arrangements for Pep vs Saddler, Part IV, were already in the works.
It was news a bitter Pep welcomed. “He got me in a double arm lock,” declared the former champion. “He twisted my arm twice. That’s what did it, not his punches. Sure, he hurt me a few times, but I could have beat him.”
For his part, a cheery Saddler was unperturbed about the controversial conclusion. “I thought a punch to the kidney did it,” he told reporters. “But if they say I twisted his arm, okay, I twisted it.”
After all, said Saddler, Pep did his share of rough stuff too. “He thumbed me in the eye,” said Saddler. “He did the same thing in the other fights. I told the referee, but that Pep never stopped thumbing.”
A year later they battled again, in a match that was, incredibly, even more foul-filled and chaotic. And once again Pep surrendered on his stool, this time after round nine, due to a badly cut right eye. The conduct of the fighters, who spent much of the bout wrestling and rolling around on the canvas, was deemed so disgraceful that the New York State Athletic Commission suspended the professional boxing licenses of both men. And it seemed the public too had tired of the sordid nature of the rivalry. Unlike the huge crowds that had gathered for the first three battles, some fourteen thousand rattled around in the cavernous Polo Grounds for the final Pep vs Saddler clash. It was an undignified end, but, given their mutual hatred and the shoddy tactics on display, somehow fitting.
Willie Pep vs Sandy Saddler IV
This was to be the last meeting between these two all-time greats, and it was also the most foul filled dirty fight in the series. By this time, Saddler and Pep genuinely disliked each other, the fight ended when Willie Pep refused to answer the bell for the ninth round, he had had enough of Sandy Saddler.
SANDY SADDLER-WILLIE PEP 4: THE FOUL-FILLED FINAL CHAPTER 70 YEARS LATER
Imagine, if you can, Russian ballet great Rudolf Nureyev dancing Swan Lake while wearing snowshoes … Michelangelo doing his best to adorn the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel using only his thumb and a kindergartner’s water paint … legendary tenor Luciano Pavarotti performing La Boheme with a mouthful of marbles.
True artists can be found in almost all forms of human endeavor, but their particular masteries can be and sometimes are affected by a lack of proper tools or distracting outside influences. And so it notably was in a select few instances for the late two-time former featherweight champion Willie Pep, arguably the most accomplished defensive boxer of all time, so gifted at the nuances of spacing and movement that he once was said to have won a round against a flummoxed opponent without throwing a single punch.
Pep – born Guglielmo Papaleo in Middletown, Conn., on Sept. 19, 1922 — was so convinced he could pull off that improbable stunt that he reportedly advised a few favored sports writers of his plan before he was to take on Jackie Graves on July 25, 1946, in Minneapolis, Minn. He told them to pay close attention to what he would do in the third round, which was to make Graves look like a blindfolded man trying to capture a butterfly with a pair of tweezers, and what he wouldn’t do, which was to intentionally hit his lunging, stumbling, ineffectual foil. And damned if Pep, who won the round, didn’t do exactly what he had vowed.
Then again, maybe it didn’t happen that way. Perhaps the tale of Pep’s victorious no-punch round is nothing more than urban legend, a flight of fancy that took root and remains plausible because, well, Pep was Pep. There is no existing film of that fight, and a report of it in the Minneapolis Star described the third round as “toe to toe slugging with Pep inflicting his best punishment with a right to the body.” But as a fictional Old West newsman remarked in the 1962 film The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, “When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.” And so one of the compliant legend-crafters, Don Riley, wrote that Pep had put on “an amazing display of defensive boxing skill so adroit, so winning, so subtle, that the roaring crowd did not notice Pep’s tactics were completely without offense. He even made Sugar Ray Robinson’s fluidity look like cement hardening.”
And this, from writer and ring historian Bert Sugar: “Pep moved, switched to southpaw, mocking Graves; Pep danced, Pep weaved; Pep spun Graves around and around again; Pep gave head feints, shoulder feints, foot feints, and feint feints. But Pep never landed a punch.”
Having presumably proved his point, Pep went on to display his dominance in a more traditional fashion, flooring Graves (who was no stiff; his career mark was 82-11-2, with 48 KOs) nine times en route to winning on an eighth-round technical knockout.
But even the best of the best are sometimes thrown off their game on a given day. Nureyev might not have danced so magnificently if he were bothered by, say, a bunion on his big toe. Before the invention of modern over-the-counter medications, Michelangelo might have applied an errant brush stroke or two if he woke up one morning with nagging joint pain in his painting hand. Even Pavarotti’s incredible voice could be rendered less so by laryngitis. And so it was for Willie Pep, the “Will o’ the Wisp,” to whom a similarly accomplished but stylistically opposite featherweight, Sandy Saddler, served as kryptonite to the defensive genius’ fancy-stepping but less-powerful Superman.
Today marks the 70th anniversary of the fourth and final installment of the bitterly contested arch-rivalry that pitted Saddler, again the reigning featherweight titlist, against the normally elusive Pep, whose hit-and-don’t-get-hit tactics once again would be discarded either by chance or choice. The previous three matchups – two of which had been won by Saddler – were marked in no small part by Saddler’s ability to get Pep to meet him on his preferred terms, which involved much more give-and-take exchanges favorable to the harder-hitting Harlem resident, in addition to being indisputably down ’n’ dirty. Holding and hitting? Oh, yeah. Heeling? Gouging? Thumbing? Arm-twisting? Hitting to the back of the head? Yes, yes, yes, yes and yes.
It was considered a major upset when Pep, the absolute king of the 126 pounders, relinquished his slew of titles (NBA, NYSAC and The Ring) to Saddler via fourth-round knockout in their first meeting, on Oct. 29, 1948, in Madison Square Garden. Most knowledgeable observers had expected to Pep to win, and why not? He had entered the ring for that bout with a glittering 135-1-1 (45) record, on a 73-bout undefeated run that included a solitary draw, and the prevailing opinion was that the Will o’ the Wisp would also school Saddler, the son of West Indian immigrants who came in at 75-6-2 (57) and with a bit of a reputation for rules-flouting. Noted British fight scribe Harry Mullan once referred to Saddler as “a highly refined master of the ignobler aspects of the Noble Art. There have been few better featherweight champions, and even fewer dirtier ones.” From the opening bell, however, it was Saddler who roughly imposed his will, breaking Pep down with ripping shots as no one ever had.
There would, of course, be a rematch, on Feb. 11, 1949, also at Madison Square Garden and before a packed house of 20,000. It would be a stark reversal of what had happened in the first pairing, with Pep again the slippery escape artist, darting in to score with quick flurries whenever it suited his purpose before ducking and dodging his way back out of the danger zone. Pep would forever claim thereafter that his unanimous, 15-round decision over his most persistent nemesis was the finest performance and most cherished victory of his 26-year, 241-bout, 1,956-round professional career.
With the series now square at one victory apiece, public interest in a rubber match was such that a paid crowd of 37,781 turned out on Sept. 8, 1950, in Yankee Stadium, with Saddler, interestingly, going off as the 8-5 betting favorite. But try as he might to replicate his success in Part 2, a frustrated Pep, clearly in distress, retired on his stool after the seventh round due to a dislocated should he claimed was the result of Saddler’s wrestling maneuvers.
As the winner of two of the three previous matchups, both of his triumphs marked by an ability to frequently manhandle the smaller Pep, Saddler again went off as the favorite for their fourth and final meeting, this time by 9-5. But the climactic showdown at New York’s Polo Grounds included an element, a mutually intense personal dislike, which was much more apparent than had been evident previously. This time Pep would not have to be bullied or coerced into fighting Saddler’s fight, he would willingly give vent to his desire to inflict as much or more pain than he was apt to receive, no matter how strategically imprudent that was.
The press corps that had once rhapsodized about Pep’s Fred Astaire-in-padded-gloves style, along with a live audience of 13,868, were aghast by what took place from round one until the finish, with Pep, badly bleeding from a gash above his right eye opened by a Saddler left hook in the second round, declining to leave his stool at the end of the ninth round. The only difference from Pep’s third go at Saddler was the nature of the injury that precipitated his grudging surrender.
“He kept sticking his thumb in my eye,” complained Pep, who was ahead on the scorecards submitted to that point by referee Ray Miller (five rounds to four) and judge Frank Forbes (5-4), with judge Arthur Aidala seeing it as a 4-4-1 standoff. “Every time we clinched he gave me the thumb, in the cut and in the eye. I couldn’t stand it. I hate to make excuses but I couldn’t stand it. Bill (Gore, his trainer) kept telling me I was winning, but I couldn’t stand the pain in my eye.”
It can be argued, convincingly, that Pep’s place in the annals of boxing is and should be higher than that of Saddler, although both were charter inductees into the International Boxing Hall of Fame’s Class of 1990. But man-to-man, the proof is in the pudding. Head-to-head, Saddler’s three victories in four clashes with Pep offers conclusive evidence of who owned whom inside the ropes.
Bill Lee, sports editor of the Hartford Courant, expressed that opinion when he wrote:
"Sandy Saddler is Pep’s master. He proved it Wednesday night to the satisfaction of everyone who saw the fight. He convinced Lou Viscusi, Pep’s manager, and Bill Gore, the trainer, that he is the one fighter in Pep’s life that Willie can’t handle."
Having gone to that particular well four times, Viscusi acknowledged the reality that there need not be a fifth time for his guy, Pep, to further test himself against the taller (5’8½” to 5’5”), longer-armed (70” reach to 68”), harder-hitting and four-years-younger Saddler. “Every fighter has bumped into one man he can’t lick,” Viscusi reasoned. “I’m convinced now that Pep can’t beat Saddler.”
What stung both future Hall of Fame fighters, even more than the legal or illegal punches that were landed, was the negative reaction to their anything-goes violation of acceptable ring etiquette. Even jaded sports writers professed to be shocked and dismayed by what they had seen, with Pep designated for even more withering criticism than Saddler.
Jimmy Cannon, of the New York Herald Tribune: "There was a time when Willie Pep fought with a mixture of proud caution and audacity. The fight racket was improved by his graceful agility which was as true and clean as this cruel form of entertainment can ever but. But (his) splendid skill has deteriorated into a nastiness which resembles the guile of a clumsy card cheater. The tricks Pep used in the Polo Grounds last night were low and snide. It was shameful to behold."
Gene Ward, New York Daily News: "Wrestling, holding and otherwise trying all the tricks to stave off the inevitable, that once-great ring magician, Willie Pep, went down to ignoble defeat while sitting on his stool at the Polo Grounds at the end of the ninth round of a weird and dreary apology for a fight."
Lester Bromberg, New York World Telegram: "Smarty pants (Pep) suckered the public again as he blew taps for himself in the corner last night at the Polo Grounds, capping a nightmare of pugilism as it ain’t."
Al Abrams, sports editor of the Pittsburgh Post-Garette: "It was nine rounds of the worst exhibition of unsportsmanlike conduct ever seen in a bout anywhere."
Jim Jennings, New York Mirror: "Pep, who employed every dirty trick known to the racket, quit suddenly while seated in his corner. In more than 40 years of watching fights, I never viewed a fouler battler than Pep. Tripping, holding and gouging were just a few of his mean stunts."
Adding insult to injury for Pep was the decision by newly installed New York State Athletic Commission chairman Robert K. Christenberry to suspend Pep for life and Saddler indefinitely. Pep’s suspension was lifted after 20 months, and both went on to resume their careers. Although Saddler’s last bout was a 10-round unanimous-decision loss to Larry Boardman on April 14, 1956, when he was not quite 30 years old, Pep kept on keeping on until he was 43, finally retiring following a six-round defeat on points to Calvin Woodland on March 16, 1966.
Asked why he lingered so long in a harsh sport unforgiving to even elite fighters who ignore the inevitable ravages of time, Pep, who was married six times and was fond of betting on racehorses that tended to run slower than he would have preferred, cracked, “My ex-wives were all good housekeepers. When they left, they kept the house.”
To both of their credit, Pep and Saddler – as is often the case with fighters who have gone to hell and back, maybe even several times – became friends in later life. Sadly, both men passed away with their memories of who and what they had been largely erased. Pep (career record: 229-11-1 (65 KO), who was 84 when he took his eternal 10-count on Nov. 23, 2006, suffered from Alzheimer’s the last five years of his life; Saddler (145-16-2 (103 KO) was 75 when he died on Sept. 18, 2001, also afflicted by Alzheimer’s.
The highlights in color from Pep vs Saddler IV. You can see how dirty the fight got, even the referee was thrown to the ground at one point.
The four fights between Sandy Saddler and Willie Pep were some of the most violent encounters in the history of the sport, the series of fights left both men scarred and bitter for years to come. Sandy Saddler didn't even like talking about it for a long time, but later in life they became friends and even boxed in an exhibition years later which brought them both peace about their bitter rivalry. Sandy Saddler won the series 3-1, he was an extremely difficult opponent for anyone to overcome, he was tall, punched like a mule kicks, and had a long reach advantage, and was a vicious and brutal fighter that was always trying to destroy you, he was really a freak of nature for the featherweight division.
Sandy Saddler in his prime.
Some great photos from the Saddler vs Pep fights.
Willie Pep's face after their second fight in 1949.
Another photo of Willie Pep after the second fight in 1949, Pep won that fight and his title back, but paid a heavy price.
But that was Sandy Saddler, he could really lay a beating on you, a brutal fighter and puncher, he's ranked #5 on Ring magazine's 100 hardest punchers list.
Sandy Saddler in his prime, you can see what a nightmare he was for his opponents to try to deal with. Tall, lanky, powerful, vicious, and in your face.
Alexis Arguello, "the explosive thin man ", all-time great fighter. When he stepped into the ring to fight he would study his opponents first, analyzing them, gathering intelligence on them, their weaknesses, where they vulnerable, even if it meant taking some punishment to do so, then he would unleash his attack once he figured his opponent out. The great boxing trainer Ray Arcel once said, "Boxing is brains over brawn. I don’t care how much ability you got, if you can’t think you’re just another bum in the park" and this very much applied to Alexis Arguello. Once Arguello figured you out, there was little to nothing you could do to stop him, he was an assassin, with an arsenal of weapons at his disposal. He was explosive, threw deadly accurate punches in flurries, powerful hooks to the head and body, and had brutal knockout power. He was 5'10" and very lanky, which gave him great leverage for generating power in his punches. Alexis Arguello was once quoted as saying that if he landed one decent shot a round he was happy. One decent shot from him usually meant the smelling salts needed to be brought out.
Alexis Arguello, The Explosive Thin Man...“One of the Greatest Ever."
Alexis Arguello, “El Flaco Explosivo”, the explosive thin man, as he was called, was at 5’ 10” exceptionally tall for a fighter who weighed under 140 pounds. As his nickname indicates he was an explosive hitter, indeed he was perhaps the most economic and efficient puncher of the last 50 years. He fought in a boxer-puncher style similar to that of Joe Louis exhibiting near flawless boxing fundamentals with his chin down and hands held high. Alexis threw perfect left jabs and right crosses straight down the pipe and his left hook was a powerful force. He was a master at analyzing the flaws in an opponent’s style and then dissecting them with fierce body punching, accurate counters and precise combinations. Arguello would patiently stalk his opponents, take them apart and finish them off with an explosion of cascading bombs that came from a selection of powerful punches. Arguello scored 65 knockouts in 82 career wins that came with the suddenness of a man who was struck by a rattlesnake.
In his prime Arguello was considered nigh invincible. One 1978 boxing magazine published, “Alexis Arguello is regarded by some people as the perfect fighter. He is thought to be--pound for pound, inch-for-inch and punch for punch--the best puglist in the world...a fighter without a flaw.”
Peter King penned in 1981, “Watching Arguello fight is like enjoying the subtleties of a great Renaissance masterpiece. There is rich color and detail in his performance. His jabs are straight, strong and accurate. His body punches are delivered with care. His right crosses and left hooks are issued with an awesome potency. Yet this great fighter-perhaps one of the greatest ever-is largely unknown.”
Boxing writer and analyst Frank Lotierzo wrote, “Arguello mostly fought a somewhat pressure style. He didn't pressure his opponents like a Frazier or Duran; it was more a subtle type pressure like Joe Louis. Another thing Arguello shared with Louis was that they were vulnerable versus fighters who had fast feet. That's not saying they couldn't fight fighters that had good movement. It is verifying that fighters who moved against them usually fared the best. The fighters who brought the fight to Arguello are the ones who he defeated in the most devastating fashion.”
Alexis Arguello was born in Managua, Nicaragua in abject poverty. Like Roberto Duran he learned to fight on the tough streets of the inner Central American city of his birth. Arguello was taught the basics of boxing from a brother-in-law in Managua. Seeing boxing as an opportunity to escape the drudgery of a life of poverty, Alexis dedicated himself to the sport at the age of 14. Displaying a natural punch Alexis compiled an amateur record of 58-2 with 48 knockouts before turning pro at the age of 16. As a professional Alexis racked up a record of 36 wins with 29 knockouts while suffering only 2 early career losses fighting almost exclusively out of Managua during his first 5 years as a pro.
At age 21 he challenged for his first world title facing veteran WBA Featherweight champion Ernesto Marcel in the champions hometown of Panama. Marcel was a slick and clever outboxer who used his greater experience to stay out of range of Arguello’s heavier punches and box his way to a unanimous 15-round decision. After the bout Marcel retired never giving the young fighter a chance to avenge his heartbreaking loss.
Hard hitting former champion Ruben Olivares won the WBA title vacated by Marcel. Meanwhile Arguello put himself back into title contention by knocking out top contender Art Hafey and then winning the Central American Featherweight title by besting Oscar Aparisio. He was then granted a second title opportunity against the great Mexican world champion Olivares. It turned out to be a classic war with Olivares leading on the scorecards after 12 rounds. In the 13th a devastating left hook sent Olivares crashing to the canvas. Olivares got up but was soon finished by the explosive thin man. Alexis Arguello, age 22, was now featherweight champion of the world.
Arguello made 4 successful defenses of the Featherweight title before moving up to capture the 130 pound Jr. Lightweight championship. He faced an outstanding champion in Alfredo Escalera on Jan. 28, 1978 in Bayamon, Puerto Rico. Escalera had 10 successful defenses of his WBC Jr. Lightweight title and was no easy mark. It turned out to be a great fight that some hailed as “The Bloody Battle of Bayamon.” The fights Referee Arthur Mercante called it “the most brutal fight I have ever witnessed.” Escalera had his ears, nose and mouth busted but was rallying on the scorecards when Arguello caught him and finished him in the 13th round. Arguello had won his second divisional title. At age 25 he was in his physical prime as a fighter.
Alexis was at his peak at 130 pounds. He looked all but invincible in this weight class. He was physically stronger, and maintained the devastating punch that had made him such a dangerous featherweight. At junior lightweight he successfully defended the title 8 times defeating outstanding fighters such as Ruben Castillo, and future titleholders Bobby Chacon, Bazooka Limon and Rolando Navarette.
In 1981 Alexis Arguello decided to attempt something that had been done by only a few all time great fighters previously, that is become a triple crown champion by moving up to the 135 pound lightweight division. In London, England in front of a hostile crowd who was literally singing praises to WBC champion Jim Watt, Alexis Arguello dominated the southpaw champion in scoring a clear unanimous decision verdict to join Bob Fitzsimmons, Barney Ross, Tony Canzoneri, Henry Armstrong and Wilfred Benitez (who had won his triple crown the previous month) as boxing’s only 3 division champions in history to that time. Arguello was recognized as the best fighter in his weight class when he held the title in each of those divisions. Today multi-divisional champions are somewhat cheapened due to the existence of so many sanctioning bodies, but when Arguello won his triple crown it was considered a major accomplishment that ranked him with the all time greats of history.
Although Arguello was clearly considered the best lightweight in the world during his title reign he was not quite the awesome force he had been at 126 and 130 pounds. Arguello still carried a heavy punch but was not quite as devastating as he had been. He made up for this with his experience, ring smarts and calm in the ring. He was still a great champion successfully defending his title 4 times at 135. In 3 divisions Arguello won a total of 19 title fights covering a span of 8 years without loss in a championship fight.
Due to his success and looking for a large payday Alexis challenged undefeated Jr. Welterweight champion Aaron Pryor for the 140 pound championship on Nov 12, 1982 in Miami. Pryor was a fast, powerful, swarming puncher with a great chin. As expected Pryor started quickly but Arguello stayed right with him as they exchanged hard punches. Pryor had it going his way early and stunned Alexis several times. In the mid to late rounds Arguello seemed to be solving Pryor’s style as Alexis came on. In the 13th round Pryor was hurt by a sizzling right cross that violently snapped his head back and Aaron walked slowly back to his corner. Between rounds Pryor’s trainer, Panama Lewis, who would later be banned from boxing for cheating, said, “Hand me that bottle, no not that one, the special one I mix.” It was never proven what was “mixed” in that bottle, but whatever it was it was illegal as anything other than water is not permissible for use in the corner. Pryor came out with renewed energy in the 14th round caught Alexis against the ropes with a flurry of powerful punches and stopped him. Alexis had made a great fight, but fell short in his bid for a 4th divisional championship against one of boxing’s best fighters ever in that weight class.
The controversy over the fight forced the WBA to sanction a rematch. 10 months later they fought again. This time Pryor fought a smarter fight mixing in movement with his attack from all angles. The fight was fought at a very fast pace and Pryor wore down and stopped Alexis easier in the second bout, this time in 10 rounds. Arguello retired after those bouts although he would go on to make a couple of ill-fated comebacks.
Ring magazine rated Alexis Arguello as the # 1 Jr. Lightweight of all time in its all time divisional ratings in 1996, and among the 20 best fighters of the last 80 years in 2002, and among the 20 best punchers of all time in 2003. Cox’s Corner considers Arguello among the top 5 greatest featherweights and the top 10 lightweights of all time, and he probably deserves recognition as the greatest Jr. Lightweight Champion ever.
Alexis Arguello was found dead in his home of Managua Nicaragua in 2009 from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the heart, he had committed suicide. He struggled for years with drug abuse, depression, and suicidal thoughts, he seemed to be a man that was torn apart inside emotionally. It's understandable, considering the crap that he went through in his life. He had become mayor of Managua Nicaragua in 2008, because he wanted to give back to his home, he wanted to help the poor, he was a great man but in the end, life and politics got the best of him.
Alexis and campaigning for mayor of Managua Nicaragua in 2008.
How Politics Took Down Nicaragua's Boxing Champ
Anyone who ever saw Alexis Arguello slug out a 13-round victory in the boxing ring knows he had the heart of a giant — too big, it seemed, to fit inside his skinny, 130-pound frame, which could pack a punch like a mule kick. Revered as the "Explosive Thin Man" and the "Gentleman of the Ring," Arguello — who committed suicide with a bullet to his heart on July 1 — was a champion like few others before him or after. Even on the rare occasion that he lost (he won 82 of his 90 career bouts), he gave an epic account of himself — two of his three world titles were won in marathon slugfests, and his 14-round battle against Aaron Pryor in 1982 is still remembered as one of the greatest fights in the history of boxing. It was Arguello's battles outside the ring that proved to be his downfall.
Much has been written and said about the legendary fighter's struggles with drugs, alcohol, depression and even suicidal tendencies. But less is known about how Arguello brought his fighter's spirit to his later career in Nicaraguan politics, which, unlike boxing, is not a gentleman's sport. "Politicians are a bunch of crooks," Arguello told me in a 2007 interview, after serving three years as the Sandinista vice mayor of Managua. He referred to the mayor's office as a "snake pit."
Nudged, he said, by God, Arguello sought redemption for a decade lost to drugs and recklessness by pulling himself together and entering a life of public service to help the poor. The skinny kid from Managua who had punched his way out of poverty was never accused of being an intellectual, but he was thoughtful in his own way. He likened his return to the capital after years on the road to Marco Polo sailing home to Venice after traveling the world.
Arguello tackled his first political job — as vice mayor of Managua — with a boxer's determination. "When I have to kill, I have to kill," Arguello said. "A man who makes a decision has to make it for the good of the country, and I love this country."
That love was first and foremost for Nicaragua's poor, out of whose ranks he'd risen. When a desperate father appealed for Arguello's help because he couldn't afford the expensive medical treatment to treat his 8-year-old daughter's leukemia, the fighter made the cause his own and tried to shame two Nicaraguan pharmaceutical companies into providing free treatment. When they hesitated, the champ came out swinging.
Arguello claims he told them, "You motherf___ers, do you know how much you sell every year? And you can't help out with a thousand dollars, you motherf___ers? You are a cheap motherf___er — you scumbag motherf___ers!"
The drug companies agreed to help.
"The girl is doing good and the dad loves me, man!" Arguello said, bursting into his manic Yogi Bear laugh.
Arguello tried to take a similar interest when other downtrodden folk sought his help. He told me he would sometimes lie awake in bed at night worrying about their problems and trying to think of ways he could help.
But a turning point for Arguello came when a not-so-poor supplicant came seeking his help. President Daniel Ortega was desperate for a mayoral candidate who would be both popular and subservient to the Sandinista leadership, and saw Arguello as the answer. Even though Ortega's first government had confiscated property and bank holdings from Arguello during the '80s, by 2007 the ex-champ felt indebted to the Sandinista Front for helping him out of drugs and giving him a shot at redemption. Plus, Arguello actually believed in the Sandinistas' message of defending the poor, and he embraced his new role with the fervor of a convert. He referred to the President as his "leader," and said Nicaragua would be "a heaven" if everyone agreed with Ortega.
But once the Sandinistas had Arguello in their clutches, the game changed for him. First Lady Rosario Murillo, who appointed herself head of his mayoral campaign, assigned minders to keep the fighter on a tight leash to minimize his wonderfully outrageous and innocent gaffes. (Arguello, in discussing his 14 years spent living in the U.S., remembered Thanksgiving as a commemoration of the day when the British declared a one-day truce during their invasion of New Orleans to sit down for a turkey dinner.)
The election itself was a fiasco. The Sandinistas were accused of vote-rigging, and days of violence followed the closing of the polls in Managua. Instead of finding atonement in politics, Arguello found controversy and ridicule. He was accused of winning by fraud and lampooned as a bumbling fool. The media dubbed him the "mayor appointed by the Supreme Electoral Council," and insinuated that his office was incompetent and corrupt — charges that would have felt like a low blow to a man who had prided himself on his transparency and ability to get things done.
Arguello's relationship with the Sandinistas also became strained, as Murillo appointed several yes-men to run the mayor's office. On several occasions, city council meetings were run by Arguello's handlers in his absence. His main function as mayor seemed to be to sit behind Ortega at Sandinista rallies and stand and wave to the crowd when announced by name.
Last week, following the tragic news of Arguello's death, an alleged suicide note circulated on the Internet saying Arguello didn't blame anyone for his decision, but that he was tired of being used and treated like an embarrassing drug addict. The alleged note ended with the advice, "Take care of democracy and don't be fooled by those who have fooled me."
While the note may very well turn out to be a hoax in a country with no shortage of pranksters, its sentiments reflect a commonly shared notion that Arguello, while a brilliantly graceful fighter and undisputed national icon, got in over his head in the world of Sandinista politics. In the end, it wasn't boxing or drugs, but rather politics, that made the champ cry "No más."
Some people think that Alexis Arguello was murdered by the Sandinista political party and that his death was not a suicide, I don't know if he was murdered for political reasons or really committed suicide, but I do know this, he was a good man at heart, he had his issues in life like we all do, but he was a good man. Life is a tough thing, it is filled with beauty, but the ugliness is always lurking underneath that beauty, and it rears it's ugly head from time to time. Sometimes it gets the better of us, but Alexis Arguello always fought his demons and more often than not he slayed them. He had a hard life, sh.. came at him from all different directions, life can really break a good man down and even destroy him. And that's what I see when I look at Alexis Arguello, I see one of the greatest boxers in history, and I see a good man that the ugliness of life overwhelmed and it's heartbreaking to see that happen to a good man.
One more good article about Alexis Arguello that was written right after he passed away. I cannot stress enough what a great fighter he was, this is a man who won world titles in three weight divisions and never lost a single title he won. Biology dictates that it's extremely difficult to move up in weight divisions in boxing and defeat world class fighters, Arguello was a rare breed. To watch him work in the ring is fascinating, the concentration, the way he studied before attacking, the patience, the discipline, the skill, the explosiveness, it is a thing of beauty.
On This Day: We lost the great Alexis Arguello
If the world was rocked by the death of pop genius Michael Jackson, boxing felt an equally crushing blow on Wednesday (July 1, 2009) with the sudden passing of Alexis Arguello, the legendary Nicaraguan who won – and never lost – world titles in three divisions.
He was found dead at his Managua home, aged only 57. A post mortem was to be carried out to determine the cause of death after this issue had gone to press, but there was some speculation that he had committed suicide.
It was no secret Arguello had struggled more than most following his retirement in January 1995, following the points loss to Scott Walker, a club-fighter, in Las Vegas. There had been several suicide attempts over the years.
Arguello was 42 against Walker, long past his immaculate prime, the days when he overcame Ray “Boom Boom” Mancini, Mexican southpaw Jose Luis Ramirez, "Rock-a-bye" Ruben Olivares, Britain’s Cornelius Boza-Edwards, Rolando Navarrete, Californian Golden Boy Bobby Chacon and Rafael “Bazooka” Limon, all of whom would go on to become world champions.
But it was thought the Hall of Famer had got his life together, having been elected mayor of Managua last year when he ran for the Sandinista National Liberation Front Party.
It was as if he had finally discovered peace at last, that to be voted into such an esteemed position served to provide, to some degree, the adoration and respect he always enjoyed from his fans as a fighter, as well as closure on a dark political chapter earlier in his life.
Arguello had fled to the United States during a civil war as the left wing Sandinista regime took over in 1979 and confiscated his home worth up to half a million dollars. The bloodshed also claimed the life of Arguello’s younger brother.
This all came several years after Arguello had a home destroyed by a violent earthquake in 1972.
Arguello bravely returned to the battlefront to fight against the takeover, ploughed much of his own wealth into purchasing medical supplies and clothing for his ‘people’ and this earned him much respect and sympathy.
He took that courage into the ring. He was as cool and composed a fighter as anyone could possibly imagine. Eddie Futch, his American trainer, once described him as having “the best concentration of any fighter he had seen.”
His tall, wiry 5ft 10in frame, coupled with the power that saw him knock out or stop 65 from 82 career wins, made the nickname “Explosive Thin Man” more than appropriate.
But as well as being a ruthless, calculated puncher – he could knock out an opponent early or late and with the straight right or left hook – Arguello was a master boxer and superb tactician.
Jim Watt, Britain’s former WBC lightweight champion, discovered that at Wembley in 1981, when Arguello came over to challenge him, bidding for his third ‘world’ title in so many divisions during a time when there were only two governing bodies in operation.
Southpaw Watt was making his sixth defence and had already seen off Howard Davis, America’s Val Barker winner from the 1976 Olympics, and Sean O’Grady.
When I broke the news of Arguello’s death to him this week, Watt recalled his fight with the Nicaraguan.
“What a classy guy,” he said. “I’d won the title late. I knew it wasn’t going to last. I thought I’d get as many defences as I could and get money in the bank.
“Boxers are great guys, but sometimes there’s trash-talking. I’d been through it against Charlie Nash and Sean O’Grady. The first time I met Alexis was at a press conference in London. He walked over, held out his hand and said, ‘Pleased to meet you, Jim. How’s your family?’”
“What do you say to that? It threw me completely. I didn’t expect him to be such a gentleman. But that’s how he conducted himself, impeccably.”
The unflappable, charming, strikingly handsome Arguello wouldn’t fall for anything Watt tried in the ring.
“He was noticeably better than anyone I boxed. I’d perhaps reached the stage where I didn’t have the same ambition as when I fought Davis. But Arguello was always in front of you, not in a Barry McGuigan high- tempo sort of way. But he just had such long arms and used the range so well. He could thump to the body, too.”
Japan’s Royal Kobayashi, knocked out in five by Arguello for the WBA featherweight title in 1975 (Alexis’ third defence), said he just couldn’t see those wicked body shots coming.
“He was competent at everything he did,” said Watt. “There was nothing flashy. In the early rounds he hit me with a jab and I remember thinking, ‘Christ!’ That was a jab! It [the power] must have come from his terrific balance.
“I had thrived on annoying opponents, getting them to make mistakes, then hit them with the southpaw jab. But with Alexis, forget it. He threw punches when he knew it was time.
“I couldn’t have lost to a classier fighter. He was better than I was. I knew halfway into that fight I wasn’t going to beat him.”
Yet while Watt never had any difficulty walking away from boxing – in fact he must be one of the very few who actually looked forward to retirement – Arguello found it painfully difficult.
The news of Alexis’ death came as a particular shock to Watt because they’d met each other again only last year.
“I thought he had his life back in order,” said Jim. “Nothing looked wrong with his health. It must be so difficult with all the highs he had in his career. I always knew that as soon as the title went, then so would I.
“I enjoyed being a former champ as much as I did being the champ. Some fighters can’t. It’s tragic what has happened. But Alexis was a special fighter. That he never lost in the ring any of the titles he won puts him in a special club.”
Watt was also one of many who believed Arguello would make history in November 1982 in Miami when he challenged Aaron Pryor, the wild and extravagant American WBA light-welterweight champion. Victory would have made Arguello the first boxer in history to bag world titles in four divisions.
Their 14-round thriller is one of the greatest fights of the modern era. Arguello hit Pryor with everything, but simply couldn’t shift him and, having given his all, was smashed to defeat.
They would meet again, nearly a year later in Las Vegas, and again it was a spectacular show. Arguello was dumped early, but got up, tagged Pryor with some superb rights, and, resigned by having failed to make an impression, famously sat out the count in the 10th round. He knew he’d been beaten.
That wasn’t typical Arguello. He was no quitter. But Pryor was special and the two, curiously, would form a remarkable bond in the years that followed.
Tris Dixon, my colleague, phoned Pryor for his reaction to the stunning news and Aaron was understandably torn.
Usually, they get together each year at Canastota’s Hall of Fame. But, for whatever reason, Arguello wasn’t there this year.
Pryor’s wife, Frankie, said: “We missed him. But I can’t believe it [that he’s dead]. Aaron’s pretty upset. We have always been close. We went out to Nicaragua to help him campaign for two weeks when he became mayor.
“Alexis’ son and Aaron’s son were at elementary school in Miami together and from the time of the fight they’ve been friends. I always remember Alexis saying he and Aaron had a unique relationship.
“In Nicaragua they called Aaron Alexis’ Papa because he had taught him life lessons. Aaron adored Alexis and the feeling was mutual.”
The pair shared common life experiences, having both conquered demons with drugs even though they came from very different beginnings.
“I was just so happy for him when he became mayor,” said Pryor. “We went to his country and there were 300,000 there for him. They loved Alexis. He was in good shape and living a good life. I will never have a friend like him again. It’s really hurt my heart. I didn’t know how to conduct myself until I met him. He was a gentleman. He was my best friend.”
Arguello didn’t fight again for two years after the second Pryor loss. The defeat was crushing and impacted heavily on his life. That’s when the cocaine-use problems started and was followed by a break-up in the family. The five houses, a yacht, Mercedes and BMW, plus wife and four children, went as well.
So Arguello returned to the ring, thrashed former WBC 10st champ Billy Costello in his second fight back, but then quit again when diagnosed with a heart problem.
No-one ever thought they’d see Arguello fight again. But over eight years later, against his better judgement and getting into middle age, he tried once more. Those splendid gifts of his youth had gone, however, even if Alexis refused to accept it until Walker beat him.
In his prime he was such a sleek fighter, though. He cut Alfredo Escalera to ribbons in their WBC super-featherweight title first fight in 1978 and then knocked him out in the same time in the return in Italy the next year. In 1974 he had also knocked out Ruben Olivares in 13 before 14,000 fans in Los Angeles as a featherweight.
Only eight defeats in 90 professional fights for a kid who grew up on the streets and had to go to work at 13 is some achievement. He made his mark in the toughest of all sports.
It’s a reflection of how highly regarded Arguello was that during the 1980s he’d been mentioned as a possible opponent for welterweight champ Sugar Ray Leonard and that in 1978 some believed him to be the only legitimate threat to then-9st 9lbs king Roberto Duran.
Arguello’s trainer of the time, Al Silvani, certainly believed so. He remembers the day he first set eyes on Arguello.
“His manager called me to Managua and asked me to start training him,” he said.
“I went down and first thing I wanted to do was look him over. I didn’t want to try to change him. I only wanted to observe him to see how he trained, to see how dedicated he was, to see his style.
“I didn’t want to wake him up. I wanted to see if he would get up on his own. Well, 10 minutes went by, then 15, then 20 and pretty soon I started to wonder if this kid was lazy and needed to be pushed.
“Just about the time I decided to wake him up, he comes in from outside. He had already done his running.
“Right then and there I realised how much dedication he had.”
So let's take a look at a few of Alexis Arguello's greatest fights.
Alexis Arguello vs Ruben Olivares
Alexis Arguello detonates a left hook on Ruben Olivares
This fight really put Alexis Arguello on the map, it would be his first world championship and it came against the legendary "Rock-a-bye" Ruben Olivares, one of the hardest punchers and greatest fighters to ever step in the ring.
Back in November of 1974, nothing indicated that Nicaragua’s Alexis Arguello would become a world champion anytime soon.
Arguello was 35-4 back then, including an early run of 3-2 in his beginnings and a failed attempt to lift his first title against Panama´s Ernesto Marcel in February of that same year. Other than a win over a washed-up version of Cuban-Spanish former titlist Jose Legra and a handful of victories over a slew of fringe contenders, Arguello was just another title challenger trying to attempt the next-to-impossible task of wrestling the same WBA belt he had attempted to take from Marcel, but this time against the murderous punching Mexican legend "Rock-a-bye" Ruben Olivares.
To make matters worse, Arguello would be facing Olivares in The Forum at Inglewood, a home-away-from-home for Mexican fighters.
Things went as planned for the first 12 rounds or so, Olivares outmuscled and outhustled his younger foe, and the fight would have ended up being an easy defense of his belt if it had happened in the 12-round era.
But this was still the 15-round championship years, and Arguello came out for the 13th looking to turn all the bad luck of that unlucky number on Olivares’ shoulders.
And he did. Only a few seconds into the round, Arguello landed a short left hook to drop Olivares on his back.
Badly hurt, the champion got the nod from the referee to continue fighting. But after a long exchange in which Olivares received at least two dozen clear punches to the head, he finally succumbed to a short right uppercut and Arguello lifted Nicaragua´s first-ever boxing title in a sensational stoppage win.
Many more title fights would follow for Arguello. But that first belt and that triumph in a war of attrition against one of Mexico’s toughest champs was the first sign of the greatness that he would achieve in his extraordinary career.