Merqui "Machine Gun" Sosa, monstrous puncher. Looking back at Sosa, I think he would have fit in well with those guys from the 50s, a tough as nails infighter with power, those guys that like to get down in the trenches and go to war with each other. He had that type of style.
Gene Fullmer, "the Cyclone", or the "Mormon Mauler", he was about as hardcore as it gets in this sport, I guess the best way to describe his style would be to picture trying to fight an advancing tank. He was strong as a bull, used the cross arm defense to force his way in to his opponent and then launch a hellacious attack, he had an overhand right that looked like he was throwing a beer bottle, it came over the top and clubbed you, he brutally knocked out Joe Miceli with that overhand right. He was one rough customer, Fullmer was known for his ability to endure otherworldly punishment, and threw everything he had into every punch, and those punches landed everywhere, on your arms, shoulders, body, head, if you stepped into the ring with him, your whole body was going to be under an onslaught of incoming fire, a tireless attack. He could be clever as well, switching his style to pure boxing if necessary, but for the most part, he was going to just straight up maul you. He fought the great Sugar Ray Robinson Four times, beating him twice, he beat the great Carmen Basilio twice, Florentino Fernandez, Ralph "Tiger"Jones, Paul Pender, Spider Webb, and Benny Paret. He was knocked out only one time in his entire career, and it took the perfect punch from the greatest pound for pound fighter of all-time to do it.
Gene Fullmer trains hitting the heavy bag with a baseball bat.
REMEMBERING GENE FULLMER
His brutally physical ring style powered Fullmer to a 55-6-3 (24) record during a 12-year-career that saw him defeat Sugar Ray Robinson (twice), Carmen Basilio (twice), Paul Pender, Gil Turner (twice), Rocky Castellani, Ralph “Tiger” Jones (twice), Charles Humez, Chico Vejar, Ellsworth “Spider” Webb (twice), Florentino Fernandez and Benny “Kid” Paret while closing out his career by going 0-2-1 against fellow Hall-of-Famer Dick Tiger. He is only one of two men ever to defeat Robinson twice in championship fights (Pender was the other) and his first fight with Basilio was named THE RING’s “Fight of the Year” in 1959.
Fullmer was born July 21, 1931 in West Jordan, Utah and began boxing after his father, Tuff, brought Gene and his younger brothers, Don and Jay, to a gym run by longtime Utah politician and boxing manager Marv Jenson. Fullmer turned pro in June 1951 with a first round knockout over Glen Peck and the man nicknamed “Cyclone” proceeded to blow through his early competition by scoring 11 straight knockouts to begin his career and 18 in his first 21 bouts, 16 in the first four rounds. But as he raised his level of opposition, Fullmer’s true strengths began to emerge – relentless pressure, vicious body punching, painfully clubbing blows over the top, a fierce competitive drive and an excellent chin. Those attributes carried him to 29 straight wins before Philadelphia’s Gil Turner outpointed Fullmer at Brooklyn’s Eastern Parkway Arena in April 1955. Fullmer went on to avenge that loss twice over by winning a unanimous decision in his very next fight, then a split nod six fights later.
Back-to-back decision defeats to Bobby Boyd and Argentine strongman Eduardo Lausse temporarily stalled Fullmer’s progress but he zoomed up the rankings by defeating Turner in their rubber match, Jones and Humez, then the number-two contender. Following a third-round KO over Moses Ward in a tune-up, Fullmer met Robinson for the middleweight title on Jan. 2, 1957 at Madison Square Garden.
The 35-year-old Robinson was making the second defense of his third middleweight reign and despite being 10 years older he was a slim 6-to-5 favorite. But once the action began, it became clear that Fullmer’s unorthodox swarming was the antidote to Sugar Ray’s peerless technique. Fullmer built an early lead, opened a cut over Robinson’s left eye and scored a seventh-round knockdown en route to a commanding 15-round decision.
Following a pair of non-title 10-round wins over Wilf Greaves and Ernie Durando, Fullmer and Robinson met again on May 1, 1957 at Chicago Stadium. This time Fullmer was a robust 3 1/2-to-1 favorite and, through the first four rounds, he showed why as his ruggedness carried the action. But just before the midway point in round five, Robinson nailed Fullmer coming in with what is now known as “The Perfect Punch,” – a hair-trigger hook to the jaw that sent the champion stumbling backward before hitting the floor. The effects of the blow were too much for Fullmer to recover from and referee Frank Sikora counted 10 over Fullmer for what would be the only time in his career.
“That was supposedly the greatest left hook ever thrown and it happened to hit me on the chin,” Fullmer said years later on a Classic Sports Network segment. “When I came to, I was standing up and he was in the other corner jumping up and down. I asked my manager, ‘How come Robinson is doing exercises between rounds?’ and he said, ‘It’s not between rounds.’ I said, ‘What do you mean?’ and he said ‘They counted 10,’ and I said, ‘It must be on me because I never heard any of it.'”
The middleweight title eventually split and while Robinson went on to lose the lineal title to Pender, Fullmer captured the vacant NBA belt (the forerunner to today’s WBA) by stopping the iron-chinned Basilio in 14 rounds. If the stoppage itself wasn’t surprising enough – it was the first time Basilio had ever failed to go the distance in 75 fights – the manner in which Fullmer achieved it was even more shocking. The conventional wisdom going in was that Fullmer-Basilio would be a titanic clash of bulls but Fullmer surprised everyone by turning bullfighter.
“I knew how Basilio fought and I didn’t figure he could change so I never did train to be a boxer,” Fullmer told Peter Heller in the book In This Corner. “Even in training camp, I trained to slug. Word got back to him, he was all set for me this way. He come out slugging, I moved back and I had just a split-second faster timing that night than he did and I just beat him to the punch all night. And, of course, we got in and had a few exchanges which we come out about even, but when we were at a distance at all, he’d go to throw a punch and I’d just barely move out of the way and then I’d stick him and stick him and stick him. Kept sticking him and beat him pretty soundly, really, for the fight.”
A solid right hand sent Basilio staggering back and moments later, his corner, seeing their man was badly stunned, asked referee Jack Downey to stop the fight. After retaining his belt against Webb (UD 15) and future champion Joey Giardello (D 15), Fullmer stopped Basilio again, this time in 12 rounds. Because of their mutual dislike of Robinson, Fullmer and Basilio struck an understanding that turned into a longtime friendship. During one IBHOF induction weekend in the early-1990s, they engaged in a humorous sparring session.
A little more than five months after the Basilio rematch, Fullmer fought Robinson to a draw that many thought Sugar Ray edged out. The controversy prompted a fourth meeting and, this time, Fullmer nearly scored a knockout in the third round before pounding out a 15-round unanimous decision.
One of Fullmer’s proudest victories came five months later when he scored a split decision over the power-punching Cuban Florentino Fernandez, for, in the late rounds, a Fernandez blow fractured a bone in Fullmer’s right elbow. Fernandez staged an inspired surge in the final rounds but Fullmer’s early lead was enough for him to retain his title.
Next up was reigning welterweight champion Benny “Kid” Paret in Dec. 1961 and, from first bell to last, the Utah native dished out a merciless pounding before ending the fight with three knockdowns in the 10th. It would prove to be the final victory of Fullmer’s career, for his final three fights came against the powerful Dick Tiger, who won the inaugural WBA middleweight championship by unanimous decision in Oct. 1962. Exactly four months later, Tiger retained the belt via a blood-soaked 15-round draw, thanks to a late rally. The closeness of the rematch led to a third fight, this time in Tiger’s native Nigeria for the WBA and now the WBC belt. The 32-year-old Fullmer was long past his best while Tiger, though nearly two years older, was still near his peak. Following the seventh round, Jenson asked for the fight to be stopped.
Fullmer remained active in retirement as he coached young fighters, refereed a handful of fights between 1967 and 1990 (most notably the Bob Foster-Al Bolden fight in Sept. 1976) and made frequent appearances at the IBHOF’s Induction Weekend. According to a story on the Deseret News website, Fullmer helped establish a Golden Gloves franchise in the Rocky Mountain region. In 1960, he received the Edward J. Neil Award for Fighter of the Year.
As vicious as he was inside the ring, he was that genial outside it.
Here it is, the knockout of the year in 1958, Gene Fullmer hits Joe Miceli with the clubbing overhand right, it was an awkward looking punch and a devastating weapon, one boxing writer said it looked like a guy throwing beer bottles from behind the bar in a saloon. Fullmer was something else, you can see him using the cross arm defense and just pushing Miceli back like it's nothing, Fullmer was a powerful bull of a fighter.
Gene Fullmer vs Sugar Ray Robinson was a great rivalry, they fought Four times. The thing about Sugar Ray Robinson is, he's the greatest pound for pound fighter that ever lived, period. Outside the ring he wasn't a very good person, but there's no denying that inside the ring, he was the best ever, the term "pound for pound" was created because of him. Their rivalry was intense, each chapter had it's own little story to tell, the first one belonged to Gene Fullmer.
Gene Fullmer knocks Sugar Ray Robinson through the ropes in round 7 of their first encounter.
65 Years Ago Today: The Gene Fullmer-Sugar Ray Robinson
Rivalry Begins
Talk about a great fight to start off the boxing year, It was January 2, 1957 when the great, indeed the incomparable, Sugar Ray Robinson met the iron-chinned Gene Fullmer for the first time. These two would end up having four fights, with each of them being memorable for different reasons (fight-two gave the sport of boxing something that continues to be marvelled over, studied and examined again and again all these years later). Sugar Ray engaged in a number of intense rivalries during his incredible ring career – his fierce rivalry with Jake LaMotta being perhaps the most demanding in boxing history – but Fullmer was to become one of his hardest opponents. Fullmer was strong as an ox, he was blessed with a chin to rival that of LaMotta, and he could bang. Gene was also hungry. Robinson was already an established great come January of 1957. A former welterweight king (some say the finest ever), and a three-time middleweight ruler, Robinson was also aged 35, to Fullmer’s 25 years. Youth would be served in fight-one, staged at Madison Square Garden in New York. Fullmer, 36-3 but never stopped (far from it), was coming off wins over the likes of Rocky Castellani and Ralph “Tiger” Jones, while Robinson, an astonishing 138-5-2, was coming off wins over Castellani and Bobo Olsen. Robinson had returned to the ring in January of 1955, this after a short retirement that followed his loss to Joey Maxim, and he had gone 8-1 since returning; the loss coming to Tiger Jones. Robinson had to dig as deep as ever, if not more so, against Fullmer. The warrior from Utah proved to be a relentless challenger, his non-stop pressure, mauling, in-close style giving Robinson no time to breathe, to get into his own groove. It was a punishing fight for both men, for Sugar Ray especially. Fullmer dictated the fight, and then he sent the middleweight king through the ropes. The heavy knockdown came in round seven and now Robinson was fighting for survival. Cut around the eye, Robinson somehow made it to the final round, all but exhausted. Fullmer won a unanimous decision, via 10-5, 8-5, 9-6 scores. Plenty of people were more than ready to write Sugar’s ring obituary. But as fight fans know, Sugar Ray came back, just four months later. This time it was a different story courtesy of THE single finest punch ever captured on film. The textbook perfection of Robinson’s left hook to the jaw is simply legendary. Fullmer never saw the punch coming. But for now, that would have to wait. Fullmer was the main man at 160 pounds. The “Mormon Mauler” was the middleweight king.
Gene Fullmer vs Sugar Ray Robinson II. The rematch took place on May 1st, 1957, it would be a historic fight, the only time Gene Fullmer was ever knocked out in his entire career. The blow came in round 5 and it is a punch that has been analyzed on film for decades, a brutal left hook that came out of nowhere at lightning fast speed, it is the single most famous punch in boxing history and it is known simply as "the perfect punch."
A PUNCH FOR HISTORY
BEHIND ON POINTS, SUGAR RAY ROBINSON KO'D GENE FULLMER WITH A SINGLE MAGNIFICENT BLOW FOR HIS FOURTH MIDDLEWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP
The perfect punch is rare in boxing, rarer than the home run in the days of Home Run Baker, or even the hole-in-one. The perfect punch is always a left hook—for no straight right-hand throw can be as pretty as a hook—delivered against a strong-jawed man who has not been weakened by a long, hard fight. It comes fast and it executes instantly, like a well-timed squelch. Only the great ones have been able to throw it and they but seldom when facing a fresh and sturdy opponent.
In all the history of boxing the perfect punch never has been so well-delivered with so much at stake as on the night of May 1 at Chicago Stadium when Sugar Ray Robinson, underdog once more at ringside odds of 1 to 3, saw an opening as wide as a boulevard arch and drove smartly through to his old familiar home, the middleweight championship of the world. He dwells there, it seems, whenever he feels like moving back in. Many's the time he has propped his nimble feet before its fireplace and leaned his sleek head back against the antimacassar—more times than any man. To get there this time he dispossessed Gene Fullmer, an inoffensive tenant who moved in only last January and hadn't even had time to get the attic cluttered up.
The historic punch came in the fifth round. It came suddenly, with no hint of preparation save for a right hand to Fullmer's body, which is built like a Sherman tank. Fullmer was leading then on all three official cards, and rightly so, for he had lost only the fourth round on a strong Robinson flurry.
The pattern of the first Robinson-Fullmer fight at Madison Square Garden was beginning to reappear except for one enormous blunder. A nondrinker, Fullmer had tasted the wine of championship and it went straight to his head. In the first fight he had rushed Robinson cautiously, both hands protecting his jaws until he was well inside. This time he came at Robinson in the fifth round with his right hand low on his chest. He meant to bring the right up from his heels at the first opportunity. This was apparent even to children at home reading comic books while they watched TV. Sugar Ray saw it, too. It was what he had been waiting for.
Later, in euphorious retrospect, the sugary Ray recalled that he had been subtly "showing him the right all night in order to set up the left." The Fullmer version is that he never saw the right, didn't notice it at any time. It does seem to be the essential truth, agreed upon by all, that Fullmer walked into a left hook. For a while thereafter he couldn't walk at all.
Robinson's preparatory right to Fullmer's body had the effect of bringing Fullmer's head over to the left. As the head swung back to the right in the same arc—Gene was planning to throw his underslung right and needed balance—Sugar Ray's perfect left hook caught it with precise timing and precisely on the Fullmer button. The lights went out. Hours afterward Fullmer was still in the dark as to what had happened. He could remember nothing. That part of the fight is hearsay so far as he is concerned.
Fullmer went to the canvas so suddenly that the crowd—there were 14,757 paying fans in the stadium—was totally hushed for a moment. Then it burst out with an ear-pounding roar of astonishment and admiration. For in the little interval that it took Referee Frank Sikora to glide into position above Fullmer and start his count it became clear that Gene, though drawing manfully on some wellspring of inherent courage, would not be able to rise again in 10 seconds. His powerful legs pumped in the effort, but he had no more control of them than if he had been an infant squirming in his crib. He rolled and twisted. Sikora bellowed the seconds—he is one of the few referees who can be heard loud and clear at such a moment—and they went relentlessly by. As they went, so went Gene Fullmer's brief hold on the title.
Sugar Ray Robinson knew the title was coming his way once more. In a neutral corner, arms spread along the red ropes, he took a deep breath of triumph. He showed his white mouthpiece in a happy grin. When Sikora had counted to 10 Robinson had done what no man had done before. He had won the middleweight championship for the fourth time. He had been the first man to knock out Gene Fullmer.
Fullmer knew nothing of all this. Rising on crisscrossed legs (see picture on page 27), he wobbled back to his corner and into the arms of his manager, Marv Jenson.
"Why did they stop the fight?" Fullmer inquired. He had begun to see that things were not going well.
"They counted you out," Jenson explained.
"Well, that's a pretty good reason," Fullmer conceded. When he told about it later his black eyes were twinkling as though it was, after all, a pretty good joke on him. Outside the ring he has a gentle and sporting disposition, a natural decency and grace and, talking to him, you understand that those low blows were really and truly unintentional, just as Referee Sikora figured.
There were two low blows in the third round, so clear and palpable that Sikora, jotting down his score, shook his head sadly. Even so, he did not take away the round but scored it even. So did Judge Jim McManus. Judge Frank Clark gave it to Fullmer, presumably because Robinson had done nothing in the round but act hurt. In the two preceding rounds he hadn't even done that and was, in fact, beaten to the punch several times, and even countered by the supposedly inept Fullmer. Shrewd Sugar had been biding his time.
But the fourth round was altogether different and it forecast something of what was to come. Robinson won it on everyone's card. Previously he had allowed Fullmer to start the action but now he moved in smartly with a right-and-left combination to the head. Fullmer then moved inside. Neither punch had hurt him. Robinson threw a weak left to the head, followed it with a good right. There was a clinch and Fullmer put two lefts to the body. In the next exchange of the round Fullmer led with a right to the head and hooked to the body. Robinson threw two lefts to the head. Until then, the fourth round could have been called even, with a slight edge, if any, for Robinson.
Then something snapped. In every big fight a certain tension builds up, whether or not there is much action, but the next few moments of the fourth round were thrilling because they were filled with action and because they proved Robinson had retained at least something of his old magnificent powers—that he was still able to put punches together meaningfully, in a calculated series, with masterful design. Every punch in this flurry went where he wanted it to go.
There seemed, however, to have been very little power in the flurry. For all that the punches landed so neatly, their only effect was to cause Fullmer to back off and to murmur, perhaps, "Touché."
They did have one other effect. They opened the eyes of Marv Jenson to a horrid possibility. Fullmer went back to his stool as serene as a stroked kitten. Jenson was worried.
"He'll come out fighting in the next round," Jenson snapped. "Keep your right hand high."
Fullmer, of course, did nothing of the sort. In contrast to the disciplined strategy of the first fight, Gene seemed so anxious to punch that he forgot the simple lesson of the January Bout.
At the inquest Jenson testified that his fighter, displeased at intimations that he had won the championship by protecting himself at all times—which he mostly did—had proudly decided to slug it out with Robinson. In most cases a manager's declaration on why his fighter lost isn't worth the lip spray that goes with it. But Jenson's explanation has a solid ring.
"Since he was the champion," Jenson said, "he decided to win more spectacularly."
What he did was to lose spectacularly.
After which came The Coronation Scene in Sugar's dressing room.
Sugar Ray entered, with robe and retinue, sweat beads dripping off his slight mustache. An aide held a lump of ice to the side of his head where a Fullmer right had clopped him. (Oddly enough, Fullmer showed no sign of bruise or tenderness, not even a slight swelling, where the Robinson left had landed.) Photographers shot pictures interminably. Everyone shouted and some laughed hysterically. Brother Chester M. Batey, minister of the Hyde Park Bible Church, came in and shook the champion's hand.
"They were pulling for you," he said, "but I was praying for you."
Julius Helfand, chairman of the New York State boxing commission, extended his congratulations. Welterweight Champion Carmen Basilio bounded over the table that separated Robinson from his audience and hugged the man he hopes to beat next summer. At Basilio's appearance there were shouts of "million-dollar gate!"
Then the interview began, with Robinson responding through a microphone.
"How did you do it, Ray?" someone asked.
"It was a very rough fight," Ray replied, and you could see that this was the beginning of an oration. "I owe my success to the millions of people who have prayed for me and to the way that God answered their prayers and mine. That was what helped me to victory tonight. And I want to thank Joe Louis who came to my aid when I needed him and helped me with his advice and counsel. He is my very great friend. My very dear friend, Father Jovian Lang [a young Franciscan priest standing nearby] gave me the spiritual help I needed. Their faith is what sustained me, and I am grateful.
"It was a left hook that caught him on the way in."
He thanked his wife, Edna Mae, who was seated on a bench, listening. Someone asked how far the knockout punch traveled. (It was, actually, quite long.)
"I don't know," Ray answered, "but he got the message somewhere."
At which point Gene Fullmer strode in, as if on cue, grinning broadly at the joke. He slipped an arm around Robinson's shoulder and whispered words of congratulation to him. The embarrassed Robinson, afraid that he might have made a faux pas with his wisecrack, announced to the crowd: "He is a real gentleman." To which Fullmer responded that Robinson was "the greatest guy in history."
Then Fullmer pushed his way out to dress for the street and someone mentioned the low blows in the third round.
"He didn't mean that," Robinson said. "It was an accident and it wasn't bad."
What was bad was Fullmer's decision to abandon the intelligent caution he had shown in the first fight, when he had won a championship he dreamed of keeping for 10 years. Fullmer's Folly was a costly bit of business. He had taken only about $21,000 out of the first fight and, though he and Robinson made $67,479 apiece in the second, Fullmer deprived himself of a share in the enormous gate that will result when Carmen Basilio tries for the middleweight championship. It is most unlikely that Fullmer and Robinson will meet again.
Sugar Ray went suddenly coy about fighting Basilio, though it would certainly restore his fortune (Internal Revenue agents had attached $23,000 of this purse for back taxes.) Allowing for theater television, a million-dollar take is not an extreme hope. He said he might not ever fight again. James D. Norris of the International Boxing Club said he would like to put the fight on at Yankee Stadium in July, before interest in the bout had a chance to cool off. Everybody, Sugar Ray said, would be out of town in July, so September would be better. And so on. It was apparent that Sugar was laying the groundwork for a long, hard session of business poker at which he would demand the lion's share of all the dollars in sight.
But he is, in truth, a lion among the champions. His feats are unequaled in ring history. By the record books alone he is the greatest fighter of his generation. His place in history is high and secure and so is the place of that perfect punch, a blood-red streak in the night, that won him all the glory one fighter needs.
The perfect punch is so iconic because it was the only time the iron chinned Gene Fullmer was knocked out, he was that tough, I mean you're talking about a guy that had his arm broken during a fight and acted like it didn't even happen and continued to fight. Gene Fullmer was built like a bull, he had this huge muscular neck, a solid build, and he was strong as an ox, and he used this to his advantage to rough up his opponents. To see Gene Fullmer get knocked out is like finding bigfoot, it just didn't happen. But this was the great Sugar Ray Robinson and he is considered the greatest of all-time for a reason, he could be the most explosive and brutal fighter that you've ever seen. A prime example of this would be his sixth fight with Jake Lamotta, the St. Valentine's Day Massacre, no middleweight in history beats Ray Robinson on that night, it's the greatest performance in a boxing ring that I've ever seen. Anyway, back to the perfect punch, it has been analyzed many times over the years, Sugar Ray Robinson feinted like he was going to throw his right hand and it fooled Gene Fullmer and then he threw a quick and brutal left hook that took Fullmer out. The feint happened so fast that you can barely even see it, but it was enough to trick Gene Fullmer into leaving himself open and then boom, Ray Robinson struck. People forget, Ray Robinson was one of the hardest punchers in boxing history, he had 101 knockouts to his credit when he finally retired, he had serious power in both hands and he was famous for his speed, if you left yourself open with him, it didn't take much to put you away.
Sugar Ray Robinson catches Gene Fullmer with the perfect punch.
Gene Fullmer fought Sugar Ray Robinson for the third time in 1960, but before the third fight took place, Fullmer fought the great Carmen Basilio twice, Basilio was past it, but nevertheless two of the toughest and most brutal men the sport has ever seen mixed it up for the first time on August 28, 1959 for the vacant NBA middleweight crown. Fullmer was pretty one dimensional but suddenly turned into a boxer when he fought Basilio the first time, he used this Plan B style most effectively vs Basilio, and he deserves credit for this, as he could have just met the Onion Farmer head to head, as was expected, and just pounded away, but instead, he back pedaled, fought on the back foot, effectively covered up and actually outboxed Basilio, using his tremendous strength advantage and proved that he had an extra dimension to his armory. But apart from that, he usually came forward and bullied his opponents around on the inside, his toughness and style could give any middleweight in history trouble, imagine trying to fight a Neanderthal armed with a club, that was Gene Fullmer.
Basilio was IMO, the better fighter pound for pound even though he lost twice to Fullmer. He was also a little one dimensional but man was he tough, he was one of the toughest fighters I've ever seen, the guy would fight through a meteor shower, he was also one of the most entertaining fighters I've seen, he was rarely in a boring fight because of his style, which was to come forward, put pressure on his opponents and work them over. I think he would have been competitive with most of the welterweights throughout history, giving them tough fights win or lose. One of the problems was that Basilio was a natural welterweight and Fullmer was a natural middleweight, Fullmer was just too big and strong for Basilio.
Gene Fullmer lands a right on the chin of Carmen Basilio.
Fullmer vs Basilio I
TWO IRRESISTIBLE FORCES
“Learn from the Fight” turned its attention to 1959’s Fight of the Year: Carmen Basilio versus Gene Fullmer.
Carmen Basilio versus Gene Fullmer NBA World Middleweight Championship 28.08.1959
The background for this event was very controversial. Carmen Basilio had lost his unanimous world middleweight title to the man he had won it from, Sugar Ray Robinson. The two matches had been a huge success with Basilio shocking everyone by defeating the great Robinson on a split decision and then losing also to a split decision. Both fights had won Ring Magazine’s Fight of the Year. If ever there was an argument for a rematch it was this one.
However, Sugar Ray Robinson didn’t want to defend his middleweight crown just yet. He wanted another attempt at the light heavyweight title currently held by Archie Moore. Moore had just beaten Yvon Durelle in one his career defining moments. However, his age was now a running concern and Robinson thought he could clinch the belt, making history as the first boxer to simultaneously hold the unanimous middleweight and light-heavyweight titles. Moore wrote in his autobiography, published in 1960, that he was just as keen to meet Robinson. However, this ended up becoming a money issue. Robinson said he and Moore were both promised $500,000 each, but this was then reneged on by the promoters who wanted to give them both half this amount. Moore was apparently fine with the deal but Robinson, writing in 1969, said he never forgave him. Archie Moore agreed to fight Yvone Durelle in a rematch for the reduced amount being offered.
Meanwhile, the International Boxing Club had just lost a Supreme Court hearing where it was declared the promotional outfit had an unfair monopoly over professional boxing. According to The Sweet Science:
“The ruling effectively said that the IBC was impeding upon free trade as they locked up the world champions under not just their own banner but under their roof as well. Some thought the IBC was squeezing the smaller guys so far out of the picture that it was part of the reason boxing gyms were on the decline. The Supreme Court ruled that the IBC had to relinquish its financial interest in Madison Square Garden and prohibited the organization from holding more than two title matches per year in New York and Chicago, diluting their biggest arms of the fight game as those were the biggest fight towns.”
With these new restrictions in place, the IBC were pushing Robinson to defend his title to guarantee a good pay day. Robinson, for his part, demanded $700,000 for the rubber match rather than the $500, 000 that was on offer. The IBC would also claim that Robinson was denying Basilio a $150,000 increase. Robinson was accused of being unfair and greedy. Robinson said that this wasn’t the case and when the New York State Athletic Commission demanded a hearing, he showed them the cheque he had written out to Basilio. In his autobiography, Ray said he didn’t blame Basilio for closing discussions down and said he was being controlled by Jim Norris, who had recently resigned from the IBC. In the end, the NYAC backed off and Ring Magazine also still recognised Robinson as the lineal champion.
Robinson had other problems. His beloved older sister, who had been like a second mother to him, had recently miscarried after 20 years trying for a baby. She was then diagnosed with cancer and died a few months later. It was a dark time for the world champion and he didn’t fight the NBA’s decision to strip him of the title, which they justified by the fact that he hadn’t defended it in 18 months. This worked out well for the IBC because the title fight did not take place in New York or Chicago and was instead held at the Cow Palace, Daly City, California.
A deal was quickly made to get the two men who were owed rubber matches by Robinson, as they had both beaten him once for the title, in the ring together to fight for the belt. This was no less of an anticipated match than either of them facing Robinson. As well as the comparison regarding their 1-1 records against the champion both men were famed for their aggressive and relentless styles. They were tenacious and had solid chins. Basilio had yet to be stopped in his 54–13–7 career so far and Fullmer had only been stopped once on his 49-4 record, which was when Robinson had timed his perfect left hook.
Since this fight Fullmer had won all eight of his fights, which had included Tiger Jones (the only man so far who had defeated Robinson and not been defeated in a rematch) and light heavyweight Ellsworth “Spider” Webb. Basilio, who had lost more recently to Robinson, had stopped Art Aragon in round 8 and Arley Seifer in round 3.
Basilio weighed in at 156 lbs to Fullmer 159 lbs. Basilio had to put on two extra pounds whilst Fullmer dropped four. The referee was Jack Downey, the judges were Jack Silver and Fred Bottaro. The fight had no mandatory 8-count and no three knockdown rule. It was scored on the 10-point must system: the winner of each round must receive 10 points and the loser 9 or less, a draw resulting in 10 points for both fighters. Fullmer fought in black trunks with a white contrast stripe and Basilio with the complete reverse. I had no contemporary betting odds but the commentator said that Fullmer was the slight underdog.
Round 1 – Both fighters came out aggressively but, after a few rough exchanges, Fullmer took to the back foot. Prior to the fight Gene told the press he had three plans of attack although he didn’t tell them what they were. He pressed in with his cross-guard and caught Basilio with a right to the chin. Basilio soon regrouped and came back with his own onslaught.
Round 2 – The two circled with Fullmer still slightly taking the out-boxer approach. His cross-arm guard came into play but he also backed off a lot using his jab as Basilio kept to his usual swarmer gameplan. The two eventually began trading hard in the middle of the ring and Basilio went in with his two-fisted attacks.
Round 3 – Fullmer circled and brought in a long hook. Basilio continued to stalk. Fullmer began to ease into counter-punching, matching Basilio’s charges.
Round 4 – Fullmer hurt Basilio with an overhand. He maintained the out-boxing style and Basilio stayed in the centre of the ring. Carmen appeared to be a stationary target as Fullmer manoeuvred around him with his effective jabs, setting up powerful rights. Early on in the round he caught Basilio with two hard rights. Towards the end of the round, Basilio came back and drove Fulmer into the ropes. Fullmer did well to get himself out of trouble.
Round 5 – Fullmer used lateral footwork to work around the ring, scoring points, covering when needed and never getting pinned against the ropes.
Round 6 – Fullmer came out more aggressively this time, baiting Basilio. Carmen doesn’t need to be asked twice and continued his forward pressure. Gene worked to keep outside of range, usually timing his counters after Basilio had poured on one of his two fisted assaults. He immediately attacked his opponent’s crouched position. However, as the round progressed Basilio successfully cornered Fullmer and was able to unload. Fullmer, for his part, used his cross-arm defence and fired back. He pushed his way out and began steering Basilio put to the centre of the ring. Then, for a moment, it was Basilio on the ropes. They fought out again but the round ended with Fullmer pushing Basilio into the ropes and landing his own punches.
Round 7 – Towards the beginning of the round, some issue with his gloves had Fullmer return to his corner for a couple of seconds. Fullmer was, yet again, moving to the outside and picking his shots. He landed some stiff jabs and did well to move away from Basilio’s lethal left hook. Fullmer switched angles with his evasive footwork but also soon had Basilio against the ropes. Basilio ducked under and tried to burrow inside.
Round 8 – Fullmer kept on the backfoot, circling and evading Basilio’s best punches. He kept up the action with a variety of punches upstairs and down as he nipped in an out. The style was extremely uncharacteristic of the swarmer and really seemed to be throwing Basilio who was looking one-dimensional. With seconds to go Basilio ran straight into a right-left combination to the head. Carmen’s legs looked weak as returned to the corner.
Round 9 – Fullmer missed with a big right hook. Basilio came back with an aggressive attack, driving his opponent into the ropes. Then midway, Fullmer showed more aggression and began landing more with his right. Basilio was looking tired. Fullmer did well to end each exchange.
Round 10 – Basilio was pressing the fight now. He seemed to feel the urgent need to make up for lost time and chased Fullmer around the ring throwing both hands. Fullmer kept to his footwork and even tied up his opponent a few times. Basilio was clearly having difficulty getting through Fullmer’s guard with his left hook to the body and head as well just about anything else. Basilio was leaving his chin open a lot but Fullmer seemed to be leaning towards a points victory.
Round 11 – The range exploitation was very evident at the beginning of the round. Fullmer was landing with his left jab and Basilio was hitting air with his own lefts. As the round progressed some of Fullmer’s cockier big rights sailed over Basilio’s crouching attacks. We were back to Basilio continuing to be relentless and taking the fight to his opponent.
Round 12 – This round began with a stiff exchange in the middle of the ring. Basilio began to use a small amount of out-boxing this time and avoided some of the more serious punches being thrown. However, he was soon back to trying to occupy the trenches and had Fullmer in a corner and then around the ring. Fullmer used his footwork and eventually took the fight back to his opponent, again looking to land that chopping right. He then forced Basilio into a corner post. Both men were beginning to look tired now as they wrestled on the ropes. At the 10 second mark Fullmer was bleeding from the nose.
Round 13 – Early on Basilio had Fullmer on the ropes. This would happen again after some out-boxing from Fullmer. Basilio just kept to his relentless swarming, relying on heart and aggression. Fullmer landed a few right shovel hooks to the body.
Round 14 – After some initial circling, Fullmer took advantage of the gaping hole in Basilio’s guards. He tattooed the left side of Carmen’s face with a one-two combination and swarmed in with a barrage of punches. By some miracle, Basilio was held himself up but he wasn’t defending and the referee stepped in to award the match and NBA title to Gene Fullmer. At that exact moment, Angelo Dundee, Basilio’s trainer, entered the ring to save his man.
Basilio immediately protested but the fight was over. Gene Fullmer was now NBA champion. However, he wouldn’t be granting Basilio an immediate rematch. Instead he would have to face Ellsworth “Spider” Webb for a second time in the defence of his crown.
You can see how tough Gene Fullmer is in this gif, Carmen Basilio is throwing everything and the kitchen sink at him, he just couldn't hurt him, Fullmer was made of Tungsten and too big. That cross arm defense was also a bit.. to break through.
Gene Fullmer vs Carmen Basilio II. This fight took place on June 29th, 1960 and The Onion Farmer didn't have much better luck against Fullmer.
Gene Fullmer launches a right hand at Carmen Basilio.
OUT WITH A SNARL
FRUSTRATED BY FULLMER'S STYLE, BASILIO LOST HIS HEAD AND THE FIGHT AT THE SAME TIME
The melancholy fact of last week's Carmen Basilio-Gene Fullmer middleweight championship match was not that Basilio lost. It was how he lost that was so dismaying and disheartening. As a champion of two divisions, a man who has fought 10 title fights and more than 60 others, Carmen Basilio has given the prize ring some of its most memorable battles. "He would fight a lion if you just pointed him at one," an admiring handler once observed proudly.
But against Fullmer in Salt Lake City, Carmen seemed to feel he was fighting not a lion but a pack of hyenas. Faced with the certitude of defeat for the first time in his career, he yielded to a combination of vexation, exasperation and just plain futility and gave a demonstration that was shocking and unworthy.
He shouted at the crowd, cursed the referee, stuck his tongue out at a lady spectator and—unhappiest of all to report—made obscene gestures at his opponent, an elder of the Mormon Church, who methodically beat him to a pulp for his discourtesy. He even committed the cardinal sin of prizefighting: threatening a defenseless referee. Those who were ashamed for him were ashamed because they knew this was not the real Basilio but a desperate competitor who was really railing against the fact that his fine career is all too obviously at an end.
Why couldn't Basilio accept the finality of defeat more gracefully? It is doubtful if even he knows the whole answer to that. But there are portents. The main one is Fullmer himself. A trying man to fight under the best of circumstances, he seemed to Basilio to be an affront to Carmen's skill. Fullmer looks clumsy and easy to hit. For Basilio, he wasn't. Fullmer is a swarmer, a clincher, a dervish of awkward fury who throws punches from all angles of unorthodoxy and is as hard to swat as a fly in a hot room.
Moreover, he is bigger than Basilio. From ankle to chest to biceps to neck size, Fullmer is middleweight. It is the tragedy of Carmen Basilio that he is not. He is a natural welterweight who graduated into the middleweight division for a big-money crack at Ray Robinson and then could not reduce his way back to his natural habitat.
When he was savagely beaten by Fullmer in San Francisco last August, Basilio persuaded himself he had been the victim merely of a tactical error: he had, as usual, carried the fight to Fullmer.
This time he planned to let Fullmer come to him. He would even switch to his childhood style of southpaw fighting at the critical moment. This would be when Fullmer would start one of his characteristic rushes. Carmen intended to intercept him with a left hook, the one that had dumped Kid Gavilan and kayoed Tony DeMarco and Johnny Saxton.
Basilio's hooks fail
The basic flaw in the plan was that Basilio could not hurt Fullmer. And he found this out early in the fight—in the second round, when he caught the onrushing Fullmer flush with a brace of left hooks that exploded out of the classic Basilio crouch. Fullmer did not even blink. It was then that Carmen began to lash out at his environment, to blame everybody for his frustration except the one man responsible—Fullmer. When the referee, Pete Giacoma, cautioned Carmen about a low blow in the third round, Carmen succinctly told him "Go to hell." It was the start of his temporary loss of dignity and was rooted in his disappointment in himself.
There is a grandeur about a man hurling himself upon an opponent who is sure to beat him badly for his pains. And there was a grandeur about Basilio, with his face bloodied, his body reddened, and his shoulders and chest a mass of lacerations from glove laces, carrying the fight to his tormentor. It was a kind of forlorn Pickett's Charge that saddens but raises admiration and respect in the hearts of men.
Unfortunately, Carmen was too fiery a competitor to accept martyrdom uncritically. His moral disintegration became noticeable to the crowd in the fifth round, when Basilio heard Fullmer's manager, Marv Jenson, shouting one of his (probably meaningless) signals at his fighter, "Seven-four." Carmen broke off the fight to shout "Six-two" in derision. In the ninth round, when he heard Jenson shout, "Watch the low blows," Basilio roared, "Watch these." In his extremity, he developed a near-fatal case of rabbit ears. He was, at the last, an angry man and not a professional prizefighter.
In the eighth round, bulled through the ropes, Basilio loosed a few epithets at the roost of photographers perched on the ring apron. Preoccupied with this distraction, he found himself catching a good left hook on the chin moments later and he went down backwards. Furious at himself, his face working, he promptly turned the legitimate knockdown into a burlesque by doing a quick back somersault. His camouflage worked and the referee was fooled. The clean knockdown was ruled a slip even though it was the most elaborate "slip" ringsiders had ever seen.
By the 10th round, Basilio was lurching to his corner on flat feet and with eyes grown glassy. The fight had degenerated into target practice for Fullmer. Basilio was only vestigially dangerous and soon he wasn't even that. With six seconds to go in the 12th, Giacoma stopped the fight. Carmen's rage really spilled over. "Waddaya mean?" he screamed. "Ya can't do this, I'll—" and he pushed the referee and drew back his fist as if to smash him in the face. Fullmer stared at him in disbelief. Police poured into the ring. Carmen was led to his corner. He drew back his fist again but his handler, Big Mike De John, a heavyweight contender himself, enveloped him.
A late press conference
That night Basilio's good friend, the press agent emeritus of the fight game, Murray Goodman, became concerned over the damage done to the Basilio image by the final scenes in the ring and the wirephotos flooding the country showing Basilio screaming and squaring off at a referee. Goodman set up an unprecedented postmidnight press conference in the loser's hotel room. A calmer but unreconstructed Basilio sat, barefoot, in slacks and a windbreaker.
"Retire?" scoffed Carmen. "When it comes to retire, you got to think about it. You gonna get me a job paying $20,000 a year? I got to fight just to pay my taxes." He was asked about his gestures in the ring. "You gonna print that?" he asked derisively. Someone passed a picture around. It showed a Basilio of 10 years ago. "Ya see," commented a friend, "ya talk about his 'craggy' face and what fighting's done. But his face looked the same even then, before he used to fight." "Carmen was born beat up," cracked a newsman. Carmen laughed heartily. "You'll collect $54,000," he was told. Carmen grew serious. "A good pay night. But I earned it," he murmured.
After his two wars with Carmen Basilio, Gene Fullmer met Sugar Ray Robinson twice more, and with that came the end of a great rivalry.
Robinson vs Fullmer III and IV
Let us journey back, boxing fans, to a time when the best fought the best and did so not once every couple of years, but whenever the occasion arose, anxious as those champions were to prove themselves, their fistic careers now glistening marble monuments rising above the mists of time, testament to their glory and unassailable standing as true ring legends. Alas, my friends, we were born too late.
In 1955 a 34-year-old Sugar Ray Robinson became the first pugilist in boxing history to regain the middleweight championship of the world when he emerged from retirement to knock out Bobo Olson in two rounds. Over the next few years he would regain it twice more after losing it in thrilling and violent wars with fellow middleweight greats Gene Fullmer and Carmen Basilio.
Robinson vs Fullmer became a heated rivalry as the two men simply did not like each other, their antipathy translating into vicious clashes in the ring. Their first set-to in January of 1957 saw the aggressive Fullmer prevail by unanimous decision, “The Utah Cyclone” scoring a knockdown in round seven and generally having things his way in a bruising battle. In the rematch four months later, the legendary Sugar Ray scored one of the most memorable wins of his incredible career when he smoked the iron-tough Fullmer with a perfectly timed left hook in round five and put him down for the count, Gene’s only knockout loss.
Their second meeting is one of the great one-punch KO's.
Robinson vs Fullmer II is one of the all-time great one-punch knockouts.
Robinson then split two grueling wars with Basilio before taking a long layoff, but legendary champions can do that when they’ve given boxing fans some of the greatest performances in ring history and amassed a record of almost 150 pro bouts. (Robinson would eventually retire with two hundred fights to his credit.) Meanwhile, warriors Fullmer and Basilio had slugged it out for the vacant title, stripped as it was from Ray due to inactivity. Fullmer stopped Basilio in round fourteen and stopped him again in the return. Thus, the stage was set for a rubber match with the aging Sugar Man.
The third Robinson vs Fullmer fracas took place in Los Angeles and was the most closely contested of the series. There were no knockdowns in a bloody and violent fifteen round struggle that appeared to be going the older man’s way until he ran out of gas in the final few rounds. With his late rally the champion just barely saved his title by a disputed draw, despite the fact the bout was contested in an eighteen foot ring, the smaller dimensions clearly an advantage for the rough, tough, brawling style of Gene Fullmer.
Just three months later they met yet again, this time in Las Vegas, but Robinson had insisted beforehand on a twenty foot ring and threatened to walk if he didn’t get what he wanted. He also demanded six ounce gloves and the privilege of entering the ring last. Fullmer was not impressed.
Sugar Ray Robinson. Drawing by Damien Burton.
“If Robinson is guilty of any sin, it’s the sin of selfishness,” said the champion. “He appears to have very little time for anybody but himself. With him, it’s always me, me, me. His disregard for the other fellow is notorious in boxing. When a fighter is training to meet Robinson, he sits on a hot coal waiting for the first postponement.”
The day before the fight, as the story goes, Robinson and his people burst into the office of Fullmer’s manager, Marv Jenson, and told him he had a very serious problem to deal with, one that put the next night’s main event in jeopardy.
Fullmer was fortunate to retain his title with a draw in the third tilt.
“You better get yourself a brand new ring. And fast,” shouted a furious Sugar Ray. “Because we just went and took a look and that ring down there ain’t but eighteen feet!”
Jenson, sitting at his desk, sighed, reached into a drawer, and tossed Robinson a tape measure. “I don’t have time for this nonsense. That’s a twenty foot ring, ordered to your specifications. Go measure it and see for yourself.”
A short while later Robinson returned with both the tape measure and a puzzled expression on his face. “I coulda swore that ring ain’t twenty feet,” the legendary champion muttered, shaking his head.
“You better get ready for the fight,” growled Jenson. “Unless you got any other complaints.”
Fight IV belonged to Fullmer.
The fourth and final Sugar Ray vs Fullmer match, while action-packed, proved the most anti-climactic of the series. After being staggered by a right hand in round three and then pasted with numerous solid blows, Robinson faded, while Fullmer went on to batter and bully his legendary opponent and win a unanimous decision. In a ring which, in truth, was precisely eighteen feet by eighteen feet.
Decades later, after Marv Jenson died, his family found inside his steel safe a length of coiled metallic measuring tape. It was exactly two feet long.
Gene Fullmer would also fight Florentino Fernandez, and if you really want a picture of what kind of man Fullmer was, that fight was a prime example. I profiled Florentino Fernandez and his fight with Fullmer earlier in the thread, Fernandez was one of the hardest punchers in boxing history and during that fight he hit Gene Fullmer in the arm with a left hook that broke two bones in Fullmer's arm, he also hit Fullmer flush with left hooks that would have taken most guys out instantly, not Fullmer, he took everything Fernandez threw at him and kept coming, Fullmer won that fight. That was Gene freaking Fullmer, built Ford tough, hard as f... was Gene Fullmer.
Florentino Fernandez hits Gene Fullmer with brutal left hooks.
Another example of Gene Fullmer's toughness would be his fight with Eduardo Lausse, if you're not familiar with Lausse, he was an Argentina middleweight, he hit even harder than Florentino Fernandez, they called Eduardo Lausse "Zurdo" and I'll profile him later in the thread, he was a murderous puncher. Anyway Lausse was certainly underrated and his left hook was deadly, thrown with bad intentions and then some. In Fullmer vs Lausse, both guys were loading up so much they were showing us a great example of Newton's third law, as the sheer force of the punches delivered actually sent the deliverer back a step or two when it landed. This fight also showed that Gene Fullmer wasn't just a crude slugger, he could box, Fullmer knew he was in there with a lethal hitter when he fought Lausse, and he was very cautious and boxed a lot from the outside. Anyway, Lausse had taken out all of his opponents that year, but he wouldn't take Fullmer out, Fullmer was just too tough for him. Lausse won the fight by decision, but it was very close, and Fullmer really showed that he was one of the toughest fighters this sport has ever seen.
One last word about Gene Fullmer, I've heard it a lot over the years about how athletes from back then couldn't hang with guys today because of advances in training, nutrition, or whatever else. That doesn't apply in boxing, because if Gene Fullmer were around today, he would be a champion, he was the kind of guy you practically had to kill to beat, and he would cut through today's fighters like a hot knife through butter. He was one of the hardest and brutal men the sport has ever seen. Carmen Basilio once said about Fullmer, "he did everything wrong but did it right", and what Basilio meant by that was that Fullmer didn't fight the way you're fundamentally taught to fight, he just flat out brutalized you his way, and more often than not he got the job done.
Cyclone: Irrepressible Gene Fullmer
In that charmingly twisted language that only fighters can make sound sensible, Carmen Basilio once said of Gene Fullmer, “He did everything wrong, but he did it right.” Carmen knew what he meant and so did the rest of us. Even though cold logic so often takes a battering in the crazy world of boxing, we tend to stick with it as a measuring tool when confronted by those fighters who puzzle us. We assimilate the facts and figures and try to reach a logical conclusion. Heck, it worked OK for Mr Spock. But prize fighters constitute a very special group of men. They cannot be number crunched, packaged and neatly filed. They take pleasure, God bless them, in turning the natural order upside down and twisting it inside out.. Nobody befuddled us more back in the fifties and sixties than Gene Fullmer, the tough and bruising battler from West Jordan, Utah. It was as if Gene had watched Rocky Marciano and set his mind on becoming even more awkward, ungainly and downright contrary than Rocky. In his early days as an unbeaten middleweight, Gene’s auditions would make even the worldliest boxing people wince and reel in shock. They didn’t come any worldlier than Teddy Brenner, who was the matchmaker at the Eastern Parkway Arena in Brooklyn when he got his first look at Gene in 1954. Brenner visibly sagged as he watched Fullmer lumbering through his workout with a crudity and a lack of grace that would become all too familiar in the years to follow. To those who witnessed the session, Teddy’s horrified expression was something to behold. Gene Fullmer was 24-0 as a pro at the time with an impressive 19 knockouts on his slate. How could he possibly look so bad? His most threatening opponents seemed to be his own feet. Brenner, fearing that Gene might trip over his plates and break his neck, implored Fullmer’s manager Marv Jenson to take the kid back to the comparatively gentle environs of Utah for his own safety. What had Teddy Brenner seen that had so dismayed him? He had seen a man who couldn’t box or punch, whose awkward style would leave the average boxing fan stone cold. He saw a fighter who, for all his impossible awkwardness, could still be hit repeatedly with disturbing ease. Teddy kept watching and blinking, looking for that certain something that he might be missing. He couldn’t find it. Brenner’s harsh verdict shocked Marv Jenson but didn’t deter him. Marv had believed in his man Fullmer ever since the man was a raw and enthusiastic young boy. At eight years of age, Gene was taken along to the West Jordan Athletic Club by his father, Tuff, who asked Jenson to teach the lad boxing. Jenson saw at once what nobody else did. “He had it,” said Marv. “I knew it the minute I tried him out. He had three things I could work on. Strength, a good mind and fast reflexes. I took advantage of those three things.” Revelation Gene Fullmer was a streaking revelation in his first years as a pro, barrelling his way through the middleweight ranks with his peculiar brand of bullish, cyclonic effectiveness. He was an exceptionally awkward revelation to be sure, but nobody could beat him. He bulled, he charged, he hustled and sometimes picked up as many lumps as he dished out. But he just kept winning. The artists and the scientists of the ring must have gone back to their dressing rooms wondering what had just rolled over them. Starting out in 1951 with a one round knockout of Glen Peck at Logan, Utah, Gene had taken his unbeaten run to 29 fights by 1954, fighting mainly in his native Beehive State. He made his New York debut in November of that year with a unanimous decision over Jackie LaBua and followed up with decisive quality wins over Germany’s Peter Muller and future world champ, Paul Pender. Gene was moving rapidly into world class and his record over the next couple of years is testament to the depth of genuine world class fighters in the middleweight division of that era. It was near impossible to maintain an unbeaten record in such a minefield of golden talent. When Gene lost three of his next six fights, people wondered if the cream of the division had tumbled the secret of the Fullmer style. The first harsh lesson came from Gil Turner at the Eastern Parkway Arena in April 1955. Sporting a 47-7 record, Gil was a highly capable ring mechanic who matched Gene all the way for toughness and roughness. Turner knocked Fullmer through the ropes for a nine count in the sixth round on the way to posting a convincing points win. Gene learned from his mistakes and avenged the defeat just two months later by out-hustling Turner in West Jordan. Fullmer seemed to be on a roll again when he notched important wins over Del Flanagan and Al Andrews, but then suffered successive back-to-back defeats for the first time in his career. Both were unanimous decisions and both saw Gene hitting the deck. The classy Bobby Boyd turned the trick at the Chicago Stadium in a match refereed by former champ, Tony Zale, decking Fullmer in the third. Then came the handsome Argentinian, Eduardo Lausse, a terrific puncher with a 63-6 slate, who downed Gene in the eight round of their Madison Square Garden meeting. Never usually one to complain, Gene was always niggled by the Boyd knockdown, claiming that it was no more than a slip. Typically, Fullmer ploughed on defiantly, beginning the five-fight run that would carry him to a title shot against the great Sugar Ray Robinson. There is a valuable lesson to be learned here for the excitable, OTT boxing crowd of the present era. Educational, competitive defeats never did harm a learning fighter and never will. How many times now do we hear of a single loss being described as a ‘major reverse’ or a ‘disaster’? Small wonder that the boxing fans of today, drunk on all the propaganda of the obsessive ‘0’ in a fighter’s loss column, should so hastily dismiss the great ringmen of yesteryear. They must look at those all those defeats on Dick Tiger’s record and wonder what all the fuss was about. How did Gene Fullmer and his contemporaries cope with adversity? Well, for starters, they didn’t take a year off to ‘find themselves’. They simply couldn’t afford to. They went back to the gym, eradicated the flaws in their make-up as best they could and kept working to improve their technique and their attitude of mind. Fullmer’s losses to Boyd and Lausse were just two months apart and both were tough and arduous affairs. Little more than a month after the Lausse fight, Gene was back in the ring at the Cleveland Arena in Ohio against no less a tough cookie than Rocky Castellani. Fullmer took a split decision off Rocky and over the following eight months defeated Gil Turner for the second time, Ralph ‘Tiger’ Jones, Charley Humez and Moses Ward. That’s taking care of business! Robinson We harbour many misconceptions when we are young. As a wee lad in the early sixties, I remember reading my father’s boxing magazines and thinking how wonderful it must be to win a world championship. I saw those pictures of Gene Fullmer from 1957 after he had taken the world title from Sugar Ray Robinson at Madison Square Garden and remember thinking what a lucky man Gene was. The fame! The glory! The money! Yes, Robbie was no longer the Robbie of his peerless welterweight days. He was older, slower and getting caught out much more often. But it still struck me as a colossal achievement on Fullmer’s part to dethrone the legendary Sugar Man. In my youthful naivety, I wondered what kind of mansion Gene lived in and how many millions he had stashed in the bank. Well, Gene still lived in his same modest abode in Utah, where he was still going to work as a welder. Such was the lot of the middleweight champion of the world in those not so distant days. After a full day’s work, he would train in the evenings, the victim of a boss who didn’t believe that a fellow needed extra time off to prepare for Sugar Ray Robinson. One thinks of Charley Burley finishing a long day shift and then making his way to the Legion Stadium in Hollywood for the small business of taking care of Archie Moore. Fullmer was very confident going into the Robinson fight. Gene and Marv Jenson worked long and hard to secure the match, which only served to fuel Gene’s motivation when he got the green light. The unsung challenger prepared diligently for his greatest hour. Gene recalls that he was very calm throughout his training camp. He didn’t agree with the general consensus that Robinson was the greatest thing since popcorn. This view was shared by Fullmer’s future opponent, Carmen Basilio, who insisted that Willie Pep was the superior technician of the two ‘gods’ of that golden age. Gene would have four fights with the great Robinson before their rivalry was concluded, but would not rate them among the toughest fights of his career. Nevertheless, they were fascinating and significant chapters in the history of the middleweight division, capturing the imagination of the boxing public. They pitted the ageing artisan against the honest agriculturist, the scales deliciously balanced by the slow ebbing of Robbie’s old magic and the rise of Fullmer as a dogged and infernally difficult man to beat. Basilio was correct in his later observation of the cyclone from West Jordan. Gene did indeed do everything wrong, but few men could pick the confounding lock of his almost unique safe. The Fullmer camp hired tall sparring partners who were instructed to fight in Robinson’s style. Gene learned to cut the ring off on them, pressure them constantly and not allow them to get their shots off. He knew that Robbie liked to punch from long range and that the way to negate the Sugar Man’s wonderful skills was to shut him down. Fullmer practised over and over in the gym, learning how to protect his chin from return fire as he bulled his way inside. The great plan worked like a charm on the night of January 2 1957 at Madison Square Garden. Robinson, gashed over the left eye and sent through the ropes for a count in the seventh round, simply couldn’t cope with the illogical, unorthodox bundle of energy that kept charging and washing over him. Gene won the championship by a unanimous decision and the purists went home and cried into their beer. That left hook Robinson had to get another chance. He always did. Even as his thirty-sixth birthday approached and the last of his silky skills leaked away, people could not believe it when he lost. Defeats were treated as aberrations that had to be put right. This time, however, those in the know believed that Ray was finally tackling a bridge too far. Going into the return match at the Chicago Stadium four months later, Robinson was a three-to-one underdog. It seemed unbelievable. As somebody said, “Nobody was ever three-to-one over Ray Robinson.” Fullmer was convinced that he could take the old man again and move on to even greater achievements. Robinson replied to that with six ominous words that would become famous: “No man ever beat me twice.” For four rounds, it seemed that the ‘experts’ had called it right and Ray was deluding himself. Fullmer picked up from where he had left off in the first fight, hustling and bullying Robinson out of his stride, attacking and pressuring all the time. Everything appeared rosy in Gene’s garden. But one shrewd fellow had his reservations. Trainer Marv Jenson was deeply concerned by his man’s sudden recklessness. Jenson saw that Gene was too eager, too confident and holding his hands too low as he came in. Even against the ageing Robinson, these were dangerous invitations to disaster. Jenson recalled, “When Gene was swinging hard, he was leaving his chin open. I kept telling him to keep one hand up if he was going to swing like that.” Fullmer clubbed away to the body and was marginally ahead after four rounds, but Ray remained patient as he sought to suck Gene into the quicksand. In the fourth round, Robinson halted Gene’s forward march temporarily with a combination of precisely placed punches. Fullmer took them well and probably thought that he had soaked up the best that the old champion could offer. Robinson kept the faith. At his best, he could still read and dictate a fight like no other man alive. The master tactician had seen the encouraging signs and waited for the moment when he could drop the big bomb. The bomb he dropped that night was one of the most precise and devastating left hooks ever thrown in championship boxing. It left Fullmer writhing in a state of semi-paralysis at 1:27 seconds of the fifth round, the first and only time in Gene’s career that he heard the doleful decimal. Two whiplash rights to the body from Ray had shunted Fullmer sideways, straight into the perfect firing line. End of game! To his eternal credit, Fullmer was always admirably frank about his one visit to dreamland. “It’s a sensation I’d never had before and one I don’t necessarily want again. “Robinson’s best punch was any punch he could hit you with. But I felt without doubt that if I could beat him once, I could surely beat him again. I felt that if I put more pressure on him, I could maybe knock him out. “In the fifth, I moved in with my left hand maybe six inches lower than it should have been, and he slipped that left hook over the top and caught me right on the chin. All at once the lights went out. I had never been knocked out. I had no idea what it felt like and I can’t tell you what it feels like even now.” Forget about it! A disastrous defeat? A calamitous setback? Forget about it. That was Gene Fullmer’s philosophy after the Robinson knockout. Gene went back to the drawing board, worked at plugging the leaks in his game and entered the most successful phase of his career. In the following years, the Cyclone would blow and bull his way to victories over top drawer opposition in Ralph ‘Tiger’ Jones, Chico Vejar, Neal Rivers, Milo Savage, Joe Miceli, Wilf Greaves, the thunder-punching Florentino Fernandez and Benny ‘Kid’ Paret. Gene would twice vanquish that most accomplished ring mechanic, the dangerous Ellsworth ‘Spider’ Webb, as well as engaging in two memorable brawls with Carmen Basilio. There was also the matter of taking care of Mr Robinson once and for all. By December 1960, when he met Gene for the third time, Ray was spitting out his last defiant drops of genius, hounded by a posse of snarling young cats who wanted the great man’s illustrious name in their ‘win’ columns. It had been 20 years and more than 150 fights since the Harlem Flash had begun his astonishing professional journey. Now he was walking the tightrope between his glorious past and the barren future that he could not bring himself to acknowledge. But there was one incredible effort left in Robinson when he faced Fullmer at the Sports Arena in Los Angeles. By that time, Gene was the NBA champion and Ray had finally found the man who could beat him twice. Boston firefighter Paul Pender had relieved Robinson of the lineal championship earlier that year and then defeated Ray in their return. Both fights were split decisions. Both showed the gaping cracks now splitting Robinson’s once pristine armour. Surely Ray couldn’t turn back the clock and come again. He very nearly did. He failed heroically against Fullmer and only by a whisker. The fight was declared a draw, producing a set of the most diverse scorecards ever turned in by three wise men. Referee Tommy Hart had Robbie running away with it by 11-4. Judge Lee Grossman saw it 9-5-1 for Gene, while judge George Latka called it even. It was Sugar Ray Robinson’s last great stand. When he took his final run at Fullmer in March 1961, Gene bulldozed his way to a unanimous points win at the Convention Center in Las Vegas. The well had run dry for Robbie. So began the final, poignant chapter of his career when he would travel the world chasing ghosts. Brawling with Basilio Perhaps the three fights that defined Gene Fullmer during his bruising, stormy reign as NBA champion were his two wars with Carmen Basilio and his ferocious, foul-filled struggle with Joey Giardello. The Giardello fight, at the Montana State College Fieldhouse in Bozeman in April 1960, continues to reverberate comically to all but the two participants. Both men were guilty of tearing up the rulebook, yet both continued to protest their innocence as the years rolled on. Gene, as proficient a billy goat as there ever was, claimed that Joey blatantly butted him. Joey, who knew every trick in the book, insisted he only did so because Gene had butted him first. Fullmer suffered a bad cut to the head, claiming that Giardello rammed him after locking his arm. But none of that was important anyway, said Joey, because he beat Fullmer out of sight and the decision stank. Giardello believed he won nine or ten of the fifteen rounds and wanted to fight on at the finish. At ringside, the Fullmer and Giardello brothers were threatening to fight each other as a sideshow attraction. It was some night in Bozeman and every man in the house was a good guy who had been wronged. Fullmer’s slugfests with Basilio for Gene’s NBA championship were marathon tests of endurance between two of the great tough guys of the ring. Carmen was on the wane after a hard career fighting the best welterweights and middleweights in the world, but the gutsy New York onion farmer from upstate Canastota simply didn’t know how to go quietly. He was locking horns with something of a soul brother in Fullmer, but Gene was bigger, younger and stronger. Fullmer stopped Basilio in the fourteenth round of their first brutal contest at the Cow Palace in San Francisco in 1959, but it was in the battle of Derk Field in Salt Lake City in the high summer of 1960 that the fireworks went off in earnest – in more ways than one. Gene produced his most commanding performance in a gruelling battle of physical strength and high emotion. Carmen, an immensely proud man who had traded on his fighting heart and toughness for so long, seemed to fall apart all at once as old Father time caught him by the tail and sent him asunder. Bulled and battered, slugged and mauled, Basilio was rescued by referee Pete Giacoma in the twelfth round. The act of compassion was not appreciated. His eyes cut and his body covered in ugly welts, Carmen raged at Giacoma and had to be escorted back to his corner by police officers. “Gene and I are good friends but this Utah Athletic Commission belongs to Marv Jenson,” Basilio stormed in the aftermath. “And that referee – he never should have stopped it. He could see the handwriting on the wall.” Like every proud warrior in denial, Carmen had seen a different fight to the one that had taken place. The Reno Evening Gazette reported: “The battered ex-champion was obviously hurt by Fullmer lefts to the body and right shots to the face. Bleeding, reeling and holding on in the twelfth, it appeared the end was near one way or the other. “There were no knockdowns, but in the eighth Fullmer crashed into Basilio as he was going away and Carmen went flat on his back, came up on his shoulder, then back on his feet again like a seasoned tumbler.” Basilio had found out what it was like to fight Gene Fullmer. Like so many others who had engaged the curiously likeable slugger from Utah, Carmen staggered from the fray disbelieving his cuts and bruises and his aches and pains. How could such a crude and apparently rudderless barge of a man inflict such damage? Perhaps even Gene Fullmer himself never quite knew the answer to that one. But six months into a new decade, the cyclone from West Jordan was the monarch of all he surveyed. He was doing it all wrong, but he was doing it gloriously right.
In the first Fullmer vs Robinson fight, Gene Fullmer knocked Sugar Ray through the ropes and the ropes snapped, Gene Fullmer swarmed all over Ray Robinson the entire fight.
In the second Fullmer vs Robinson fight, Sugar Ray got his revenge with the perfect punch, a left hook that knocked Fullmer out, it was the only time in his career that Fullmer was knocked out.
Gene Fullmer vs Dick Tiger. Two immovable objects going at it, I'll be profiling the legendary Dick Tiger later in the thread, Fullmer and Tiger fought three times at the end of Fullmer's career, Tiger beat him twice and drew with him. There were a lot of similarities between Fullmer and Tiger, both were strong as all get out, solid as granite, and both were knocked out only once in their entire career.
Fullmer vs Gil Turner, I'll also be profiling Gil Turner later in the thread. Gil Turner was a handful for anyone, he was going right at you from the opening bell, a hard puncher that was looking to take you out or die trying, any fight with Gil Turner in it is a good one.
Rodrigo Valdez, "The Colombian Rocky", I'm not sure how a guy like Valdez isn't in the International Boxing Hall of Fame, but he's not. He gave Carlos Monzon his toughest fights, had him on the deck, only the second man in history to floor Carlos Monzon. Valdez was also the only man to ever stop the iron chinned Bad Bennie Briscoe, and was an all around bad mf'er with great boxing skills. Would probably take out any of today's champions. Rodrigo DEFINITELY belongs in the Hall. Many don't realize he turned pro in 1962 as a 16-17 year old in 1962, continued fighting in Columbia until the late 60's to early 70's before his arrival into MSG. He was as over the hill as Monzon was when they fought.
Quite simply, Valdez was one bad son of a *****. Downsides, he was a notorious slow starter. Rumor had it, Gil Clancy used to warn the refs that Valdez might look a little lethargic in the early going but not to worry. Prone to cuts. But none were so bad in his prime to warrant stoppage. He came loaded with power from both sides of the plate and, if you dropped him into ANY era, would raise hell with Greb, Walker, Zale, an aging Sugar, any of the 60's middles. Simply put, an ATG wrecking ball machine.
Rodrigo Valdez was a dangerous guy to be in the ring with, he was a smooth boxer but he could crack, he's ranked number 29 on Ring magazine's 100 hardest punchers list. To get an example of his power, he fought "Bad Bennie" Briscoe three times and beat Briscoe twice by decision, but what happened in their second fight was truly shocking, he stopped Briscoe in the 7th round. Bennie Briscoe had one of the best chins in boxing history and Valdez was the only man to ever halt Briscoe.
Rodrigo Valdez stops Bennie Briscoe in round 7 of their second fight.
Unsung 20th Century Fights: Rodrigo Valdes vs Bennie Briscoe 2
Rodrigo Valdes and Bennie Briscoe met a second time in Monaco in May 1974
Rodrigo Valdes and Bennie Briscoe re-entered the ring on May 25, 1974 after putting on a 12-round spectacle which saw Valdes win on points just under nine months prior. The vacant WBC middleweight title was up for grabs this time around, and both fighters fought tooth and nail to claim the crown.
Valdes had previously captured the NABF middleweight title after defeating Briscoe, and this time, the biggest sanctioning body in boxing offered up more bragging rights for the victor.
Both fighters were experienced. Briscoe owned a 49-12-1 record and had previously contended for the WBC middleweight crown, as well as the WBA title in a losing effort to then-undisputed champion Carlos Monzon. As for Valdes, he sported a 50-4-2 record.
In front of an eager crowd in Fontvieille, Monaco, Briscoe and Valdes brought action and skill to the ring in a must-see fight.
The Fight
At the sound of the opening bell, Valdes instantaneously took to the ropes and Briscoe withered away at his body with sweeping hooks. As Briscoe stalked him around the ring, a snappy 1-2 combination to the face sent Valdes spiraling. Valdes then let his hands fly, throwing an incredible 24 unanswered punches with variety. Despite this astounding barrage, the round was rather close, but Valdes did enough to earn 10 points on my card.
In round two, Briscoe put Valdes’ back to the ropes and started with hooks, but also let off a 10-punch sequence, setting up a snappy uppercut that connected. Valdes seemed to not want to escape being cornered and threw back sparingly, but when Briscoe focused his hooks and crosses on his head, Valdes was forced to crouch again. The fight got sloppy midway with a lot of missed jabs and haymakers. Valdez ended the round superbly, landing tactful shots upstairs, giving him a two-round lead early.
A different story was told in round three, as Briscoe fell in love with his jab. Valdes had enough of making the ropes his strength and got to moving. A 1-2-3 to end the round made Valdes look both ways like a pedestrian at the light, and Briscoe earned himself a much-needed round.
As the fight progressed, Valdes earned a win in each remaining round, save round six, which was discernibly too close to call. Round four saw Valdes infiltrate Briscoe’s defense with a lightning-quick sequence that included a left and right hook, a straight left to the center of the body that opened up and a right cross to the face that opened up after that. It was a round of high punch counts but Valdes was more precise.
Round five was more of the same as Briscoe showed his Philly swag with the patented shell defense, but it only lasted a moment as he was otherwise outboxed. Briscoe got to playing pinball with Valdes’ head in the sixth as he found continual success forcing the Colombian on the ropes. To create space, Valdes used his jab effectively to even the round.
To close the fight, Briscoe connected on one of the most jarring straight rights you’ll ever see. He set it up with two uppercuts to drop Valdes’ hands, then threw the left jab to misdirect before dropping the anvil and pummeling Valdes. The last laugh would belong to Valdes as he landed a short right hand that caused Briscoe to stiffen up, leading to the TKO call.
Conclusion
Valdes vs Briscoe 2 pitted an unsung middleweight legend in Valdes against a bruiser of a middleweight contender in Briscoe, delivering an action-packed affair.
Valdes would go on to defend his WBC middleweight championship four times before losing in a unification bout to WBA and The Ring middleweight champion Monzon in June 1976. He would pick up two tune-up victories before losing in a rematch to Monzon in July 1977 for the same three belts.
Valdes finished with a record of 63-8-2, including a third defeat of Briscoe in 1977, before ending his memorable career.
Briscoe fell to 49-13-1 following his defeat at the hands of Valdes and would end his career at 66-24-5.
Rodrigo Valdez fought Carlos Monzon twice, Monzon won both fights but Valdez put him through hell. In their second fight, Valdez caught Monzon with a right hand that dropped Monzon to one knee, only the second time Monzon had ever been on the deck. I never liked Carlos Monzon, he is one of the greatest middleweights in history, no denying that, but Monzon was a vicious and violent man outside the ring, he beat all of his girlfriends up and even murdered one of his girlfriends, he was a real piece of garbage.
Rodrigo Valdez puts Carlos Monzon down.
A STAR BOWS OUT, A STAR BOWS IN
CARLOS MONZON'S VICTORY OVER RODRIGO VALDES WAS THE 89TH OF HIS CAREER, THE LAST 83 OF THEM IN A ROW, AND NOW THE MIDDLEWEIGHT CHAMP WILL RETIRE TO HIS MOVIE CAREER AS ARGENTINA'S JAMES BOND. BUT, AS THEY SAY IN BOXING, DON'T BET ON IT.
When it was all over last Saturday in Monte Carlo, Carlos Monzon gingerly eased the position of his battered body on the rubdown table and permitted himself a small, almost silent laugh. He was still the middleweight champion of the world, but Rodrigo Valdes had forced him to fight 15 punishing and bloody rounds to prove it. At the end, it took a great effort for Monzon just to stand and hear the decision. His face was cut and puffed, his right hand was almost useless. And now, only minutes after returning to his dressing room, he seemed ready at last to give it all up.
The bitter amusement passed swiftly. Monzon seldom shows emotion and he is even more miserly with any sign of humor. "It is done," the now full-time Argentine film star said flatly. "I have done it all. I leave it now to the young fighters."
It is the right time. Monzon has been champion for nearly seven years and he has been undefeated in 83 fights since 1964, but age has started robbing him of his marvelous skills and awesome power. He will be 35 in a few days. His film career is launched; he has $2 million salted away in a New York bank; he owns apartment houses, thousands of acres of ranchland and a Mercedes-Benz agency in Argentina. What does he need boxing for?
"He needs it because he is an animal and he lives for macho," said Rodolfo Sabbatini, who promotes Monzon's fights in Monte Carlo and produces his films in Rome. "He says he is retiring, but next January or February he will call me and say, 'How come you haven't got me a fight? I'm coming back.' By the end of the year eliminations will bring a new champion, and then Monzon will have to fight the man who succeeds him. It's his macho."
Proving his macho has always been Monzon's undoing. Because of fights in the streets he spent a lot of time in jail between the ages of 16 and 26. He was lucky that his manager, Amilcar Brusa, also trained the police boxing team. They say that Monzon was paroled on Saturdays so he could fight as a professional. On Sundays it was back into the slammer. There may be some truth to it. He recently appealed and won a release from another 18-month sentence for assault but reportedly still faces an eight-month sentence on another charge.
"He's got a big file, about 40 arrests," says Sabbatini. "It's not true when they say the best fighters come from ghettos. The best ones come from jail. But that is good. If they didn't lock up those animals, the streets wouldn't be safe for us."
When Sabbatini speaks of Monzon, it is with the curious mixture of amusement and an almost parental pride. With great relish he tells of Monzon meeting Helmut Berger, the German movie star. It was last February in Rome, just after Monzon had completed his most recent film, one aptly titled II Macho.
"Berger was pretty drunk and he sat on Monzon's lap," Sabbatini said. "Then he tried to put his hand inside of Monzon's shirt. Monzon threw him across the room and was going after him when my driver Gino stopped him. Gino is a big guy. He is Monzon's bodyguard in Rome."
To protect Monzon from the adoring public?
Sabbatini roared with laughter. "No, to protect him from what can happen to the public."
Monzon refuses to play the role of a bad guy in films. He sees himself more as a new James Bond (he looks like a cross between Charles Bronson and Jack Palance) destroying evil international cartels and saving old women and children. Monzon also refuses to play the role of a boxer. He has drawn rave advance reviews for Il Macho, which will be released soon. In the film Monzon plays a double role. First he is a murder victim and then, as his double, assumes the victim's identity and destroys an army of bad guys. "He throws a lot of punches in his films," Sabbatini says, "but never as a boxer. He always wins in the end. With Monzon, the public would believe nothing less."
Monzon has been mildly threatening to retire since 1972, and after he beat Valdes on a close decision in Monte Carlo 13 months ago, there were doubts that he would fight again. But there was the fact that he had merely decisioned Valdes—who had then called him a coward. And here came this offer of $500,000 plus about $60,000 in Argentine TV rights for a rematch. "O.K., one more," Monzon said. "Then I retire."
Monzon finished his movie and went into intense training. "I have never seen him more serious about any fight," said Brusa. Sabbatini admitted that he had been worried about Monzon's condition. Because of the film, Monzon hadn't had a fight—at least not in the ring—since Valdes, and Valdes had fought twice. "But now he looks in superb condition. It just proves to me that he is an animal. A beautiful animal."
Valdes, 30, worked equally hard and came in just as finely tuned. "He just knows he's going to win," said Gil Clancy, the Colombian's manager. "One day he told me to go out and bet his whole purse on him. Of course, I let that go over my head. Anything can happen. But that's the kind of confidence he has."
Monzon said it didn't matter how confident Valdes was. "I will batter him before the limit. Then comes the true life: the champagne, the Beaujolais, the music, the dance." And to prove that the good life could wait, Monzon didn't bring his movie-actress girl friend Susana Gimenez to Monte Carlo. Before the first Valdes fight Monzon's handlers claimed the champion was putting his love life ahead of his work and had asked the actress to move to another hotel. This time, in effect, she was asked to move to another country. She wondered at all the fuss. "All we do is play gin rummy," she said.
Despite Valdes' confidence, no one, not even Clancy, expected him to do much more in the early going than survive. He is a notoriously slow starter, and in the first fight it took him six rounds to get into gear. "Then he only has one gear, like Joe Frazier: smoking," Clancy said. "You just have to get him into it."
At the bell, Valdes was obviously geared to smoke. He is a buzz saw, short and furious, a hammer that never stops, and from the onset he carried the fight to the champion. In the second round, Valdes opened a cut on Monzon's nose, then knocked him down with an overhand right over a left lead. Monzon hadn't been off his feet since Jorge Fernandez floored him in 1966.
Leaping up, Monzon raised both arms and took a standing eight count. Then, clearly irritated, he went to work. He was crisp, zeroing in on a target that moved ever closer, cracking jabs and throwing crushing right hands. By the fifth round Valdes' left eye was swelling and his face looked as if it had been attacked by a swarm of tiny razor blades. Then the fight swung direction once more. Boring in constantly, Valdes began double-hooking, over and under, and followed with jolting right hands. Monzon looked confused. Valdes was taking the fight away from him.
Valdes won the seventh and eighth rounds easily and was winning the ninth. Then, just before the bell, Monzon came up with a new trick: step right, throw right. Simple. He caught Valdes lunging and staggered him as the round ended. Monzon stayed with the tactic until he had Valdes hurt. Then he went to both hands, opening holes in Valdes' face, slicing him over the left eye—a 10-stitcher—raining blood on himself and the ring. The 12th round was brutal. Valdes took massive punishment, gave almost none. At the end of the round, Clancy worked feverishly to close the eye cut. Across the ring, Monzon was telling Brusa, "I've hurt my right hand. I don't know if I can use it anymore." The hand is arthritic, and his handlers deaden it with no-vocaine before a fight. But the novocaine was no longer effective. Looking across the ring at Valdes, Brusa said, "You won't need it. Just keep hitting him with the left." "This eye is bad," Clancy was telling Valdes. "You better go out firing. You got to gamble."
Clancy had worked a miracle on the eye. Valdes set out to work one in the ring. He pressed Monzon, who tried to hold him off with the left hand, and suddenly the champ was in trouble. Desperate, he went back to the right hand in the 14th round, threw six straight, hard punches with it and finally slowed Valdes. In the last round, they reduced boxing to its most primitive form. Both were covered with blood, most of it Valdes', and each was going for the kill.
The officials all gave the fight to Monzon, two by three points, one by two.
Back in the locker room, 11-year-old Abel Monzon approached his father, who sat slumped on the rubbing table. "When you were knocked down I cried many tears," he said. Rising, Monzon put one hand on the boy's thin shoulder. "O.K. In life you get knocked down many times. The important thing is always get up."
That, Abel, is macho.
Showering blood and soaking up punches, Valdes took the fight to Monzon, but took a beating.
There's really not much else to say about Rodrigo Valdez, he had sound fundamentals, could switch from puncher to boxer, and could punch with either hand in burst fire combinations, deadly power with the right hand. He was was one dangerous son of a gun.
Comments
Merqui "Machine Gun" Sosa, monstrous puncher. Looking back at Sosa, I think he would have fit in well with those guys from the 50s, a tough as nails infighter with power, those guys that like to get down in the trenches and go to war with each other. He had that type of style.
Gene Fullmer, "the Cyclone", or the "Mormon Mauler", he was about as hardcore as it gets in this sport, I guess the best way to describe his style would be to picture trying to fight an advancing tank. He was strong as a bull, used the cross arm defense to force his way in to his opponent and then launch a hellacious attack, he had an overhand right that looked like he was throwing a beer bottle, it came over the top and clubbed you, he brutally knocked out Joe Miceli with that overhand right. He was one rough customer, Fullmer was known for his ability to endure otherworldly punishment, and threw everything he had into every punch, and those punches landed everywhere, on your arms, shoulders, body, head, if you stepped into the ring with him, your whole body was going to be under an onslaught of incoming fire, a tireless attack. He could be clever as well, switching his style to pure boxing if necessary, but for the most part, he was going to just straight up maul you. He fought the great Sugar Ray Robinson Four times, beating him twice, he beat the great Carmen Basilio twice, Florentino Fernandez, Ralph "Tiger"Jones, Paul Pender, Spider Webb, and Benny Paret. He was knocked out only one time in his entire career, and it took the perfect punch from the greatest pound for pound fighter of all-time to do it.
Gene Fullmer trains hitting the heavy bag with a baseball bat.
REMEMBERING GENE FULLMER
His brutally physical ring style powered Fullmer to a 55-6-3 (24) record during a 12-year-career that saw him defeat Sugar Ray Robinson (twice), Carmen Basilio (twice), Paul Pender, Gil Turner (twice), Rocky Castellani, Ralph “Tiger” Jones (twice), Charles Humez, Chico Vejar, Ellsworth “Spider” Webb (twice), Florentino Fernandez and Benny “Kid” Paret while closing out his career by going 0-2-1 against fellow Hall-of-Famer Dick Tiger. He is only one of two men ever to defeat Robinson twice in championship fights (Pender was the other) and his first fight with Basilio was named THE RING’s “Fight of the Year” in 1959.
Fullmer was born July 21, 1931 in West Jordan, Utah and began boxing after his father, Tuff, brought Gene and his younger brothers, Don and Jay, to a gym run by longtime Utah politician and boxing manager Marv Jenson. Fullmer turned pro in June 1951 with a first round knockout over Glen Peck and the man nicknamed “Cyclone” proceeded to blow through his early competition by scoring 11 straight knockouts to begin his career and 18 in his first 21 bouts, 16 in the first four rounds. But as he raised his level of opposition, Fullmer’s true strengths began to emerge – relentless pressure, vicious body punching, painfully clubbing blows over the top, a fierce competitive drive and an excellent chin. Those attributes carried him to 29 straight wins before Philadelphia’s Gil Turner outpointed Fullmer at Brooklyn’s Eastern Parkway Arena in April 1955. Fullmer went on to avenge that loss twice over by winning a unanimous decision in his very next fight, then a split nod six fights later.
Back-to-back decision defeats to Bobby Boyd and Argentine strongman Eduardo Lausse temporarily stalled Fullmer’s progress but he zoomed up the rankings by defeating Turner in their rubber match, Jones and Humez, then the number-two contender. Following a third-round KO over Moses Ward in a tune-up, Fullmer met Robinson for the middleweight title on Jan. 2, 1957 at Madison Square Garden.
The 35-year-old Robinson was making the second defense of his third middleweight reign and despite being 10 years older he was a slim 6-to-5 favorite. But once the action began, it became clear that Fullmer’s unorthodox swarming was the antidote to Sugar Ray’s peerless technique. Fullmer built an early lead, opened a cut over Robinson’s left eye and scored a seventh-round knockdown en route to a commanding 15-round decision.
Following a pair of non-title 10-round wins over Wilf Greaves and Ernie Durando, Fullmer and Robinson met again on May 1, 1957 at Chicago Stadium. This time Fullmer was a robust 3 1/2-to-1 favorite and, through the first four rounds, he showed why as his ruggedness carried the action. But just before the midway point in round five, Robinson nailed Fullmer coming in with what is now known as “The Perfect Punch,” – a hair-trigger hook to the jaw that sent the champion stumbling backward before hitting the floor. The effects of the blow were too much for Fullmer to recover from and referee Frank Sikora counted 10 over Fullmer for what would be the only time in his career.
“That was supposedly the greatest left hook ever thrown and it happened to hit me on the chin,” Fullmer said years later on a Classic Sports Network segment. “When I came to, I was standing up and he was in the other corner jumping up and down. I asked my manager, ‘How come Robinson is doing exercises between rounds?’ and he said, ‘It’s not between rounds.’ I said, ‘What do you mean?’ and he said ‘They counted 10,’ and I said, ‘It must be on me because I never heard any of it.'”
The middleweight title eventually split and while Robinson went on to lose the lineal title to Pender, Fullmer captured the vacant NBA belt (the forerunner to today’s WBA) by stopping the iron-chinned Basilio in 14 rounds. If the stoppage itself wasn’t surprising enough – it was the first time Basilio had ever failed to go the distance in 75 fights – the manner in which Fullmer achieved it was even more shocking. The conventional wisdom going in was that Fullmer-Basilio would be a titanic clash of bulls but Fullmer surprised everyone by turning bullfighter.
“I knew how Basilio fought and I didn’t figure he could change so I never did train to be a boxer,” Fullmer told Peter Heller in the book In This Corner. “Even in training camp, I trained to slug. Word got back to him, he was all set for me this way. He come out slugging, I moved back and I had just a split-second faster timing that night than he did and I just beat him to the punch all night. And, of course, we got in and had a few exchanges which we come out about even, but when we were at a distance at all, he’d go to throw a punch and I’d just barely move out of the way and then I’d stick him and stick him and stick him. Kept sticking him and beat him pretty soundly, really, for the fight.”
A solid right hand sent Basilio staggering back and moments later, his corner, seeing their man was badly stunned, asked referee Jack Downey to stop the fight. After retaining his belt against Webb (UD 15) and future champion Joey Giardello (D 15), Fullmer stopped Basilio again, this time in 12 rounds. Because of their mutual dislike of Robinson, Fullmer and Basilio struck an understanding that turned into a longtime friendship. During one IBHOF induction weekend in the early-1990s, they engaged in a humorous sparring session.
A little more than five months after the Basilio rematch, Fullmer fought Robinson to a draw that many thought Sugar Ray edged out. The controversy prompted a fourth meeting and, this time, Fullmer nearly scored a knockout in the third round before pounding out a 15-round unanimous decision.
One of Fullmer’s proudest victories came five months later when he scored a split decision over the power-punching Cuban Florentino Fernandez, for, in the late rounds, a Fernandez blow fractured a bone in Fullmer’s right elbow. Fernandez staged an inspired surge in the final rounds but Fullmer’s early lead was enough for him to retain his title.
Next up was reigning welterweight champion Benny “Kid” Paret in Dec. 1961 and, from first bell to last, the Utah native dished out a merciless pounding before ending the fight with three knockdowns in the 10th. It would prove to be the final victory of Fullmer’s career, for his final three fights came against the powerful Dick Tiger, who won the inaugural WBA middleweight championship by unanimous decision in Oct. 1962. Exactly four months later, Tiger retained the belt via a blood-soaked 15-round draw, thanks to a late rally. The closeness of the rematch led to a third fight, this time in Tiger’s native Nigeria for the WBA and now the WBC belt. The 32-year-old Fullmer was long past his best while Tiger, though nearly two years older, was still near his peak. Following the seventh round, Jenson asked for the fight to be stopped.
Fullmer remained active in retirement as he coached young fighters, refereed a handful of fights between 1967 and 1990 (most notably the Bob Foster-Al Bolden fight in Sept. 1976) and made frequent appearances at the IBHOF’s Induction Weekend. According to a story on the Deseret News website, Fullmer helped establish a Golden Gloves franchise in the Rocky Mountain region. In 1960, he received the Edward J. Neil Award for Fighter of the Year.
As vicious as he was inside the ring, he was that genial outside it.
59 attached to #61 is on back.
Very nice, that's worth a pretty penny! 👍
Here it is, the knockout of the year in 1958, Gene Fullmer hits Joe Miceli with the clubbing overhand right, it was an awkward looking punch and a devastating weapon, one boxing writer said it looked like a guy throwing beer bottles from behind the bar in a saloon. Fullmer was something else, you can see him using the cross arm defense and just pushing Miceli back like it's nothing, Fullmer was a powerful bull of a fighter.
Gene Fullmer vs Sugar Ray Robinson was a great rivalry, they fought Four times. The thing about Sugar Ray Robinson is, he's the greatest pound for pound fighter that ever lived, period. Outside the ring he wasn't a very good person, but there's no denying that inside the ring, he was the best ever, the term "pound for pound" was created because of him. Their rivalry was intense, each chapter had it's own little story to tell, the first one belonged to Gene Fullmer.
Gene Fullmer knocks Sugar Ray Robinson through the ropes in round 7 of their first encounter.
65 Years Ago Today: The Gene Fullmer-Sugar Ray Robinson
Rivalry Begins
Talk about a great fight to start off the boxing year, It was January 2, 1957 when the great, indeed the incomparable, Sugar Ray Robinson met the iron-chinned Gene Fullmer for the first time. These two would end up having four fights, with each of them being memorable for different reasons (fight-two gave the sport of boxing something that continues to be marvelled over, studied and examined again and again all these years later). Sugar Ray engaged in a number of intense rivalries during his incredible ring career – his fierce rivalry with Jake LaMotta being perhaps the most demanding in boxing history – but Fullmer was to become one of his hardest opponents. Fullmer was strong as an ox, he was blessed with a chin to rival that of LaMotta, and he could bang. Gene was also hungry. Robinson was already an established great come January of 1957. A former welterweight king (some say the finest ever), and a three-time middleweight ruler, Robinson was also aged 35, to Fullmer’s 25 years. Youth would be served in fight-one, staged at Madison Square Garden in New York. Fullmer, 36-3 but never stopped (far from it), was coming off wins over the likes of Rocky Castellani and Ralph “Tiger” Jones, while Robinson, an astonishing 138-5-2, was coming off wins over Castellani and Bobo Olsen. Robinson had returned to the ring in January of 1955, this after a short retirement that followed his loss to Joey Maxim, and he had gone 8-1 since returning; the loss coming to Tiger Jones. Robinson had to dig as deep as ever, if not more so, against Fullmer. The warrior from Utah proved to be a relentless challenger, his non-stop pressure, mauling, in-close style giving Robinson no time to breathe, to get into his own groove. It was a punishing fight for both men, for Sugar Ray especially. Fullmer dictated the fight, and then he sent the middleweight king through the ropes. The heavy knockdown came in round seven and now Robinson was fighting for survival. Cut around the eye, Robinson somehow made it to the final round, all but exhausted. Fullmer won a unanimous decision, via 10-5, 8-5, 9-6 scores. Plenty of people were more than ready to write Sugar’s ring obituary. But as fight fans know, Sugar Ray came back, just four months later. This time it was a different story courtesy of THE single finest punch ever captured on film. The textbook perfection of Robinson’s left hook to the jaw is simply legendary. Fullmer never saw the punch coming. But for now, that would have to wait. Fullmer was the main man at 160 pounds. The “Mormon Mauler” was the middleweight king.
Gene Fullmer vs Sugar Ray Robinson II. The rematch took place on May 1st, 1957, it would be a historic fight, the only time Gene Fullmer was ever knocked out in his entire career. The blow came in round 5 and it is a punch that has been analyzed on film for decades, a brutal left hook that came out of nowhere at lightning fast speed, it is the single most famous punch in boxing history and it is known simply as "the perfect punch."
A PUNCH FOR HISTORY
BEHIND ON POINTS, SUGAR RAY ROBINSON KO'D GENE FULLMER WITH A SINGLE MAGNIFICENT BLOW FOR HIS FOURTH MIDDLEWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP
The perfect punch is rare in boxing, rarer than the home run in the days of Home Run Baker, or even the hole-in-one. The perfect punch is always a left hook—for no straight right-hand throw can be as pretty as a hook—delivered against a strong-jawed man who has not been weakened by a long, hard fight. It comes fast and it executes instantly, like a well-timed squelch. Only the great ones have been able to throw it and they but seldom when facing a fresh and sturdy opponent.
In all the history of boxing the perfect punch never has been so well-delivered with so much at stake as on the night of May 1 at Chicago Stadium when Sugar Ray Robinson, underdog once more at ringside odds of 1 to 3, saw an opening as wide as a boulevard arch and drove smartly through to his old familiar home, the middleweight championship of the world. He dwells there, it seems, whenever he feels like moving back in. Many's the time he has propped his nimble feet before its fireplace and leaned his sleek head back against the antimacassar—more times than any man. To get there this time he dispossessed Gene Fullmer, an inoffensive tenant who moved in only last January and hadn't even had time to get the attic cluttered up.
The historic punch came in the fifth round. It came suddenly, with no hint of preparation save for a right hand to Fullmer's body, which is built like a Sherman tank. Fullmer was leading then on all three official cards, and rightly so, for he had lost only the fourth round on a strong Robinson flurry.
The pattern of the first Robinson-Fullmer fight at Madison Square Garden was beginning to reappear except for one enormous blunder. A nondrinker, Fullmer had tasted the wine of championship and it went straight to his head. In the first fight he had rushed Robinson cautiously, both hands protecting his jaws until he was well inside. This time he came at Robinson in the fifth round with his right hand low on his chest. He meant to bring the right up from his heels at the first opportunity. This was apparent even to children at home reading comic books while they watched TV. Sugar Ray saw it, too. It was what he had been waiting for.
Later, in euphorious retrospect, the sugary Ray recalled that he had been subtly "showing him the right all night in order to set up the left." The Fullmer version is that he never saw the right, didn't notice it at any time. It does seem to be the essential truth, agreed upon by all, that Fullmer walked into a left hook. For a while thereafter he couldn't walk at all.
Robinson's preparatory right to Fullmer's body had the effect of bringing Fullmer's head over to the left. As the head swung back to the right in the same arc—Gene was planning to throw his underslung right and needed balance—Sugar Ray's perfect left hook caught it with precise timing and precisely on the Fullmer button. The lights went out. Hours afterward Fullmer was still in the dark as to what had happened. He could remember nothing. That part of the fight is hearsay so far as he is concerned.
Fullmer went to the canvas so suddenly that the crowd—there were 14,757 paying fans in the stadium—was totally hushed for a moment. Then it burst out with an ear-pounding roar of astonishment and admiration. For in the little interval that it took Referee Frank Sikora to glide into position above Fullmer and start his count it became clear that Gene, though drawing manfully on some wellspring of inherent courage, would not be able to rise again in 10 seconds. His powerful legs pumped in the effort, but he had no more control of them than if he had been an infant squirming in his crib. He rolled and twisted. Sikora bellowed the seconds—he is one of the few referees who can be heard loud and clear at such a moment—and they went relentlessly by. As they went, so went Gene Fullmer's brief hold on the title.
Sugar Ray Robinson knew the title was coming his way once more. In a neutral corner, arms spread along the red ropes, he took a deep breath of triumph. He showed his white mouthpiece in a happy grin. When Sikora had counted to 10 Robinson had done what no man had done before. He had won the middleweight championship for the fourth time. He had been the first man to knock out Gene Fullmer.
Fullmer knew nothing of all this. Rising on crisscrossed legs (see picture on page 27), he wobbled back to his corner and into the arms of his manager, Marv Jenson.
"Why did they stop the fight?" Fullmer inquired. He had begun to see that things were not going well.
"They counted you out," Jenson explained.
"Well, that's a pretty good reason," Fullmer conceded. When he told about it later his black eyes were twinkling as though it was, after all, a pretty good joke on him. Outside the ring he has a gentle and sporting disposition, a natural decency and grace and, talking to him, you understand that those low blows were really and truly unintentional, just as Referee Sikora figured.
There were two low blows in the third round, so clear and palpable that Sikora, jotting down his score, shook his head sadly. Even so, he did not take away the round but scored it even. So did Judge Jim McManus. Judge Frank Clark gave it to Fullmer, presumably because Robinson had done nothing in the round but act hurt. In the two preceding rounds he hadn't even done that and was, in fact, beaten to the punch several times, and even countered by the supposedly inept Fullmer. Shrewd Sugar had been biding his time.
But the fourth round was altogether different and it forecast something of what was to come. Robinson won it on everyone's card. Previously he had allowed Fullmer to start the action but now he moved in smartly with a right-and-left combination to the head. Fullmer then moved inside. Neither punch had hurt him. Robinson threw a weak left to the head, followed it with a good right. There was a clinch and Fullmer put two lefts to the body. In the next exchange of the round Fullmer led with a right to the head and hooked to the body. Robinson threw two lefts to the head. Until then, the fourth round could have been called even, with a slight edge, if any, for Robinson.
Then something snapped. In every big fight a certain tension builds up, whether or not there is much action, but the next few moments of the fourth round were thrilling because they were filled with action and because they proved Robinson had retained at least something of his old magnificent powers—that he was still able to put punches together meaningfully, in a calculated series, with masterful design. Every punch in this flurry went where he wanted it to go.
There seemed, however, to have been very little power in the flurry. For all that the punches landed so neatly, their only effect was to cause Fullmer to back off and to murmur, perhaps, "Touché."
They did have one other effect. They opened the eyes of Marv Jenson to a horrid possibility. Fullmer went back to his stool as serene as a stroked kitten. Jenson was worried.
"He'll come out fighting in the next round," Jenson snapped. "Keep your right hand high."
Fullmer, of course, did nothing of the sort. In contrast to the disciplined strategy of the first fight, Gene seemed so anxious to punch that he forgot the simple lesson of the January Bout.
At the inquest Jenson testified that his fighter, displeased at intimations that he had won the championship by protecting himself at all times—which he mostly did—had proudly decided to slug it out with Robinson. In most cases a manager's declaration on why his fighter lost isn't worth the lip spray that goes with it. But Jenson's explanation has a solid ring.
"Since he was the champion," Jenson said, "he decided to win more spectacularly."
What he did was to lose spectacularly.
After which came The Coronation Scene in Sugar's dressing room.
Sugar Ray entered, with robe and retinue, sweat beads dripping off his slight mustache. An aide held a lump of ice to the side of his head where a Fullmer right had clopped him. (Oddly enough, Fullmer showed no sign of bruise or tenderness, not even a slight swelling, where the Robinson left had landed.) Photographers shot pictures interminably. Everyone shouted and some laughed hysterically. Brother Chester M. Batey, minister of the Hyde Park Bible Church, came in and shook the champion's hand.
"They were pulling for you," he said, "but I was praying for you."
Julius Helfand, chairman of the New York State boxing commission, extended his congratulations. Welterweight Champion Carmen Basilio bounded over the table that separated Robinson from his audience and hugged the man he hopes to beat next summer. At Basilio's appearance there were shouts of "million-dollar gate!"
Then the interview began, with Robinson responding through a microphone.
"How did you do it, Ray?" someone asked.
"It was a very rough fight," Ray replied, and you could see that this was the beginning of an oration. "I owe my success to the millions of people who have prayed for me and to the way that God answered their prayers and mine. That was what helped me to victory tonight. And I want to thank Joe Louis who came to my aid when I needed him and helped me with his advice and counsel. He is my very great friend. My very dear friend, Father Jovian Lang [a young Franciscan priest standing nearby] gave me the spiritual help I needed. Their faith is what sustained me, and I am grateful.
"It was a left hook that caught him on the way in."
He thanked his wife, Edna Mae, who was seated on a bench, listening. Someone asked how far the knockout punch traveled. (It was, actually, quite long.)
"I don't know," Ray answered, "but he got the message somewhere."
At which point Gene Fullmer strode in, as if on cue, grinning broadly at the joke. He slipped an arm around Robinson's shoulder and whispered words of congratulation to him. The embarrassed Robinson, afraid that he might have made a faux pas with his wisecrack, announced to the crowd: "He is a real gentleman." To which Fullmer responded that Robinson was "the greatest guy in history."
Then Fullmer pushed his way out to dress for the street and someone mentioned the low blows in the third round.
"He didn't mean that," Robinson said. "It was an accident and it wasn't bad."
What was bad was Fullmer's decision to abandon the intelligent caution he had shown in the first fight, when he had won a championship he dreamed of keeping for 10 years. Fullmer's Folly was a costly bit of business. He had taken only about $21,000 out of the first fight and, though he and Robinson made $67,479 apiece in the second, Fullmer deprived himself of a share in the enormous gate that will result when Carmen Basilio tries for the middleweight championship. It is most unlikely that Fullmer and Robinson will meet again.
Sugar Ray went suddenly coy about fighting Basilio, though it would certainly restore his fortune (Internal Revenue agents had attached $23,000 of this purse for back taxes.) Allowing for theater television, a million-dollar take is not an extreme hope. He said he might not ever fight again. James D. Norris of the International Boxing Club said he would like to put the fight on at Yankee Stadium in July, before interest in the bout had a chance to cool off. Everybody, Sugar Ray said, would be out of town in July, so September would be better. And so on. It was apparent that Sugar was laying the groundwork for a long, hard session of business poker at which he would demand the lion's share of all the dollars in sight.
But he is, in truth, a lion among the champions. His feats are unequaled in ring history. By the record books alone he is the greatest fighter of his generation. His place in history is high and secure and so is the place of that perfect punch, a blood-red streak in the night, that won him all the glory one fighter needs.
The perfect punch is so iconic because it was the only time the iron chinned Gene Fullmer was knocked out, he was that tough, I mean you're talking about a guy that had his arm broken during a fight and acted like it didn't even happen and continued to fight. Gene Fullmer was built like a bull, he had this huge muscular neck, a solid build, and he was strong as an ox, and he used this to his advantage to rough up his opponents. To see Gene Fullmer get knocked out is like finding bigfoot, it just didn't happen. But this was the great Sugar Ray Robinson and he is considered the greatest of all-time for a reason, he could be the most explosive and brutal fighter that you've ever seen. A prime example of this would be his sixth fight with Jake Lamotta, the St. Valentine's Day Massacre, no middleweight in history beats Ray Robinson on that night, it's the greatest performance in a boxing ring that I've ever seen. Anyway, back to the perfect punch, it has been analyzed many times over the years, Sugar Ray Robinson feinted like he was going to throw his right hand and it fooled Gene Fullmer and then he threw a quick and brutal left hook that took Fullmer out. The feint happened so fast that you can barely even see it, but it was enough to trick Gene Fullmer into leaving himself open and then boom, Ray Robinson struck. People forget, Ray Robinson was one of the hardest punchers in boxing history, he had 101 knockouts to his credit when he finally retired, he had serious power in both hands and he was famous for his speed, if you left yourself open with him, it didn't take much to put you away.
Sugar Ray Robinson catches Gene Fullmer with the perfect punch.
The perfect punch on film, just listen to the sound of that body shot Robinson hit Fullmer with before taking Fullmer out with the left hook.
Gene Fullmer fought Sugar Ray Robinson for the third time in 1960, but before the third fight took place, Fullmer fought the great Carmen Basilio twice, Basilio was past it, but nevertheless two of the toughest and most brutal men the sport has ever seen mixed it up for the first time on August 28, 1959 for the vacant NBA middleweight crown. Fullmer was pretty one dimensional but suddenly turned into a boxer when he fought Basilio the first time, he used this Plan B style most effectively vs Basilio, and he deserves credit for this, as he could have just met the Onion Farmer head to head, as was expected, and just pounded away, but instead, he back pedaled, fought on the back foot, effectively covered up and actually outboxed Basilio, using his tremendous strength advantage and proved that he had an extra dimension to his armory. But apart from that, he usually came forward and bullied his opponents around on the inside, his toughness and style could give any middleweight in history trouble, imagine trying to fight a Neanderthal armed with a club, that was Gene Fullmer.
Basilio was IMO, the better fighter pound for pound even though he lost twice to Fullmer. He was also a little one dimensional but man was he tough, he was one of the toughest fighters I've ever seen, the guy would fight through a meteor shower, he was also one of the most entertaining fighters I've seen, he was rarely in a boring fight because of his style, which was to come forward, put pressure on his opponents and work them over. I think he would have been competitive with most of the welterweights throughout history, giving them tough fights win or lose. One of the problems was that Basilio was a natural welterweight and Fullmer was a natural middleweight, Fullmer was just too big and strong for Basilio.
Gene Fullmer lands a right on the chin of Carmen Basilio.
Fullmer vs Basilio I
TWO IRRESISTIBLE FORCES
“Learn from the Fight” turned its attention to 1959’s Fight of the Year: Carmen Basilio versus Gene Fullmer.
Carmen Basilio versus Gene Fullmer NBA World Middleweight Championship 28.08.1959
The background for this event was very controversial. Carmen Basilio had lost his unanimous world middleweight title to the man he had won it from, Sugar Ray Robinson. The two matches had been a huge success with Basilio shocking everyone by defeating the great Robinson on a split decision and then losing also to a split decision. Both fights had won Ring Magazine’s Fight of the Year. If ever there was an argument for a rematch it was this one.
However, Sugar Ray Robinson didn’t want to defend his middleweight crown just yet. He wanted another attempt at the light heavyweight title currently held by Archie Moore. Moore had just beaten Yvon Durelle in one his career defining moments. However, his age was now a running concern and Robinson thought he could clinch the belt, making history as the first boxer to simultaneously hold the unanimous middleweight and light-heavyweight titles. Moore wrote in his autobiography, published in 1960, that he was just as keen to meet Robinson. However, this ended up becoming a money issue. Robinson said he and Moore were both promised $500,000 each, but this was then reneged on by the promoters who wanted to give them both half this amount. Moore was apparently fine with the deal but Robinson, writing in 1969, said he never forgave him. Archie Moore agreed to fight Yvone Durelle in a rematch for the reduced amount being offered.
Meanwhile, the International Boxing Club had just lost a Supreme Court hearing where it was declared the promotional outfit had an unfair monopoly over professional boxing. According to The Sweet Science:
“The ruling effectively said that the IBC was impeding upon free trade as they locked up the world champions under not just their own banner but under their roof as well. Some thought the IBC was squeezing the smaller guys so far out of the picture that it was part of the reason boxing gyms were on the decline. The Supreme Court ruled that the IBC had to relinquish its financial interest in Madison Square Garden and prohibited the organization from holding more than two title matches per year in New York and Chicago, diluting their biggest arms of the fight game as those were the biggest fight towns.”
With these new restrictions in place, the IBC were pushing Robinson to defend his title to guarantee a good pay day. Robinson, for his part, demanded $700,000 for the rubber match rather than the $500, 000 that was on offer. The IBC would also claim that Robinson was denying Basilio a $150,000 increase. Robinson was accused of being unfair and greedy. Robinson said that this wasn’t the case and when the New York State Athletic Commission demanded a hearing, he showed them the cheque he had written out to Basilio. In his autobiography, Ray said he didn’t blame Basilio for closing discussions down and said he was being controlled by Jim Norris, who had recently resigned from the IBC. In the end, the NYAC backed off and Ring Magazine also still recognised Robinson as the lineal champion.
Robinson had other problems. His beloved older sister, who had been like a second mother to him, had recently miscarried after 20 years trying for a baby. She was then diagnosed with cancer and died a few months later. It was a dark time for the world champion and he didn’t fight the NBA’s decision to strip him of the title, which they justified by the fact that he hadn’t defended it in 18 months. This worked out well for the IBC because the title fight did not take place in New York or Chicago and was instead held at the Cow Palace, Daly City, California.
A deal was quickly made to get the two men who were owed rubber matches by Robinson, as they had both beaten him once for the title, in the ring together to fight for the belt. This was no less of an anticipated match than either of them facing Robinson. As well as the comparison regarding their 1-1 records against the champion both men were famed for their aggressive and relentless styles. They were tenacious and had solid chins. Basilio had yet to be stopped in his 54–13–7 career so far and Fullmer had only been stopped once on his 49-4 record, which was when Robinson had timed his perfect left hook.
Since this fight Fullmer had won all eight of his fights, which had included Tiger Jones (the only man so far who had defeated Robinson and not been defeated in a rematch) and light heavyweight Ellsworth “Spider” Webb. Basilio, who had lost more recently to Robinson, had stopped Art Aragon in round 8 and Arley Seifer in round 3.
Basilio weighed in at 156 lbs to Fullmer 159 lbs. Basilio had to put on two extra pounds whilst Fullmer dropped four. The referee was Jack Downey, the judges were Jack Silver and Fred Bottaro. The fight had no mandatory 8-count and no three knockdown rule. It was scored on the 10-point must system: the winner of each round must receive 10 points and the loser 9 or less, a draw resulting in 10 points for both fighters. Fullmer fought in black trunks with a white contrast stripe and Basilio with the complete reverse. I had no contemporary betting odds but the commentator said that Fullmer was the slight underdog.
Round 1 – Both fighters came out aggressively but, after a few rough exchanges, Fullmer took to the back foot. Prior to the fight Gene told the press he had three plans of attack although he didn’t tell them what they were. He pressed in with his cross-guard and caught Basilio with a right to the chin. Basilio soon regrouped and came back with his own onslaught.
Round 2 – The two circled with Fullmer still slightly taking the out-boxer approach. His cross-arm guard came into play but he also backed off a lot using his jab as Basilio kept to his usual swarmer gameplan. The two eventually began trading hard in the middle of the ring and Basilio went in with his two-fisted attacks.
Round 3 – Fullmer circled and brought in a long hook. Basilio continued to stalk. Fullmer began to ease into counter-punching, matching Basilio’s charges.
Round 4 – Fullmer hurt Basilio with an overhand. He maintained the out-boxing style and Basilio stayed in the centre of the ring. Carmen appeared to be a stationary target as Fullmer manoeuvred around him with his effective jabs, setting up powerful rights. Early on in the round he caught Basilio with two hard rights. Towards the end of the round, Basilio came back and drove Fulmer into the ropes. Fullmer did well to get himself out of trouble.
Round 5 – Fullmer used lateral footwork to work around the ring, scoring points, covering when needed and never getting pinned against the ropes.
Round 6 – Fullmer came out more aggressively this time, baiting Basilio. Carmen doesn’t need to be asked twice and continued his forward pressure. Gene worked to keep outside of range, usually timing his counters after Basilio had poured on one of his two fisted assaults. He immediately attacked his opponent’s crouched position. However, as the round progressed Basilio successfully cornered Fullmer and was able to unload. Fullmer, for his part, used his cross-arm defence and fired back. He pushed his way out and began steering Basilio put to the centre of the ring. Then, for a moment, it was Basilio on the ropes. They fought out again but the round ended with Fullmer pushing Basilio into the ropes and landing his own punches.
Round 7 – Towards the beginning of the round, some issue with his gloves had Fullmer return to his corner for a couple of seconds. Fullmer was, yet again, moving to the outside and picking his shots. He landed some stiff jabs and did well to move away from Basilio’s lethal left hook. Fullmer switched angles with his evasive footwork but also soon had Basilio against the ropes. Basilio ducked under and tried to burrow inside.
Round 8 – Fullmer kept on the backfoot, circling and evading Basilio’s best punches. He kept up the action with a variety of punches upstairs and down as he nipped in an out. The style was extremely uncharacteristic of the swarmer and really seemed to be throwing Basilio who was looking one-dimensional. With seconds to go Basilio ran straight into a right-left combination to the head. Carmen’s legs looked weak as returned to the corner.
Round 9 – Fullmer missed with a big right hook. Basilio came back with an aggressive attack, driving his opponent into the ropes. Then midway, Fullmer showed more aggression and began landing more with his right. Basilio was looking tired. Fullmer did well to end each exchange.
Round 10 – Basilio was pressing the fight now. He seemed to feel the urgent need to make up for lost time and chased Fullmer around the ring throwing both hands. Fullmer kept to his footwork and even tied up his opponent a few times. Basilio was clearly having difficulty getting through Fullmer’s guard with his left hook to the body and head as well just about anything else. Basilio was leaving his chin open a lot but Fullmer seemed to be leaning towards a points victory.
Round 11 – The range exploitation was very evident at the beginning of the round. Fullmer was landing with his left jab and Basilio was hitting air with his own lefts. As the round progressed some of Fullmer’s cockier big rights sailed over Basilio’s crouching attacks. We were back to Basilio continuing to be relentless and taking the fight to his opponent.
Round 12 – This round began with a stiff exchange in the middle of the ring. Basilio began to use a small amount of out-boxing this time and avoided some of the more serious punches being thrown. However, he was soon back to trying to occupy the trenches and had Fullmer in a corner and then around the ring. Fullmer used his footwork and eventually took the fight back to his opponent, again looking to land that chopping right. He then forced Basilio into a corner post. Both men were beginning to look tired now as they wrestled on the ropes. At the 10 second mark Fullmer was bleeding from the nose.
Round 13 – Early on Basilio had Fullmer on the ropes. This would happen again after some out-boxing from Fullmer. Basilio just kept to his relentless swarming, relying on heart and aggression. Fullmer landed a few right shovel hooks to the body.
Round 14 – After some initial circling, Fullmer took advantage of the gaping hole in Basilio’s guards. He tattooed the left side of Carmen’s face with a one-two combination and swarmed in with a barrage of punches. By some miracle, Basilio was held himself up but he wasn’t defending and the referee stepped in to award the match and NBA title to Gene Fullmer. At that exact moment, Angelo Dundee, Basilio’s trainer, entered the ring to save his man.
Basilio immediately protested but the fight was over. Gene Fullmer was now NBA champion. However, he wouldn’t be granting Basilio an immediate rematch. Instead he would have to face Ellsworth “Spider” Webb for a second time in the defence of his crown.
You can see how tough Gene Fullmer is in this gif, Carmen Basilio is throwing everything and the kitchen sink at him, he just couldn't hurt him, Fullmer was made of Tungsten and too big. That cross arm defense was also a bit.. to break through.
Gene Fullmer vs Carmen Basilio II. This fight took place on June 29th, 1960 and The Onion Farmer didn't have much better luck against Fullmer.
Gene Fullmer launches a right hand at Carmen Basilio.
OUT WITH A SNARL
FRUSTRATED BY FULLMER'S STYLE, BASILIO LOST HIS HEAD AND THE FIGHT AT THE SAME TIME
The melancholy fact of last week's Carmen Basilio-Gene Fullmer middleweight championship match was not that Basilio lost. It was how he lost that was so dismaying and disheartening. As a champion of two divisions, a man who has fought 10 title fights and more than 60 others, Carmen Basilio has given the prize ring some of its most memorable battles. "He would fight a lion if you just pointed him at one," an admiring handler once observed proudly.
But against Fullmer in Salt Lake City, Carmen seemed to feel he was fighting not a lion but a pack of hyenas. Faced with the certitude of defeat for the first time in his career, he yielded to a combination of vexation, exasperation and just plain futility and gave a demonstration that was shocking and unworthy.
He shouted at the crowd, cursed the referee, stuck his tongue out at a lady spectator and—unhappiest of all to report—made obscene gestures at his opponent, an elder of the Mormon Church, who methodically beat him to a pulp for his discourtesy. He even committed the cardinal sin of prizefighting: threatening a defenseless referee. Those who were ashamed for him were ashamed because they knew this was not the real Basilio but a desperate competitor who was really railing against the fact that his fine career is all too obviously at an end.
Why couldn't Basilio accept the finality of defeat more gracefully? It is doubtful if even he knows the whole answer to that. But there are portents. The main one is Fullmer himself. A trying man to fight under the best of circumstances, he seemed to Basilio to be an affront to Carmen's skill. Fullmer looks clumsy and easy to hit. For Basilio, he wasn't. Fullmer is a swarmer, a clincher, a dervish of awkward fury who throws punches from all angles of unorthodoxy and is as hard to swat as a fly in a hot room.
Moreover, he is bigger than Basilio. From ankle to chest to biceps to neck size, Fullmer is middleweight. It is the tragedy of Carmen Basilio that he is not. He is a natural welterweight who graduated into the middleweight division for a big-money crack at Ray Robinson and then could not reduce his way back to his natural habitat.
When he was savagely beaten by Fullmer in San Francisco last August, Basilio persuaded himself he had been the victim merely of a tactical error: he had, as usual, carried the fight to Fullmer.
This time he planned to let Fullmer come to him. He would even switch to his childhood style of southpaw fighting at the critical moment. This would be when Fullmer would start one of his characteristic rushes. Carmen intended to intercept him with a left hook, the one that had dumped Kid Gavilan and kayoed Tony DeMarco and Johnny Saxton.
Basilio's hooks fail
The basic flaw in the plan was that Basilio could not hurt Fullmer. And he found this out early in the fight—in the second round, when he caught the onrushing Fullmer flush with a brace of left hooks that exploded out of the classic Basilio crouch. Fullmer did not even blink. It was then that Carmen began to lash out at his environment, to blame everybody for his frustration except the one man responsible—Fullmer. When the referee, Pete Giacoma, cautioned Carmen about a low blow in the third round, Carmen succinctly told him "Go to hell." It was the start of his temporary loss of dignity and was rooted in his disappointment in himself.
There is a grandeur about a man hurling himself upon an opponent who is sure to beat him badly for his pains. And there was a grandeur about Basilio, with his face bloodied, his body reddened, and his shoulders and chest a mass of lacerations from glove laces, carrying the fight to his tormentor. It was a kind of forlorn Pickett's Charge that saddens but raises admiration and respect in the hearts of men.
Unfortunately, Carmen was too fiery a competitor to accept martyrdom uncritically. His moral disintegration became noticeable to the crowd in the fifth round, when Basilio heard Fullmer's manager, Marv Jenson, shouting one of his (probably meaningless) signals at his fighter, "Seven-four." Carmen broke off the fight to shout "Six-two" in derision. In the ninth round, when he heard Jenson shout, "Watch the low blows," Basilio roared, "Watch these." In his extremity, he developed a near-fatal case of rabbit ears. He was, at the last, an angry man and not a professional prizefighter.
In the eighth round, bulled through the ropes, Basilio loosed a few epithets at the roost of photographers perched on the ring apron. Preoccupied with this distraction, he found himself catching a good left hook on the chin moments later and he went down backwards. Furious at himself, his face working, he promptly turned the legitimate knockdown into a burlesque by doing a quick back somersault. His camouflage worked and the referee was fooled. The clean knockdown was ruled a slip even though it was the most elaborate "slip" ringsiders had ever seen.
By the 10th round, Basilio was lurching to his corner on flat feet and with eyes grown glassy. The fight had degenerated into target practice for Fullmer. Basilio was only vestigially dangerous and soon he wasn't even that. With six seconds to go in the 12th, Giacoma stopped the fight. Carmen's rage really spilled over. "Waddaya mean?" he screamed. "Ya can't do this, I'll—" and he pushed the referee and drew back his fist as if to smash him in the face. Fullmer stared at him in disbelief. Police poured into the ring. Carmen was led to his corner. He drew back his fist again but his handler, Big Mike De John, a heavyweight contender himself, enveloped him.
A late press conference
That night Basilio's good friend, the press agent emeritus of the fight game, Murray Goodman, became concerned over the damage done to the Basilio image by the final scenes in the ring and the wirephotos flooding the country showing Basilio screaming and squaring off at a referee. Goodman set up an unprecedented postmidnight press conference in the loser's hotel room. A calmer but unreconstructed Basilio sat, barefoot, in slacks and a windbreaker.
"Retire?" scoffed Carmen. "When it comes to retire, you got to think about it. You gonna get me a job paying $20,000 a year? I got to fight just to pay my taxes." He was asked about his gestures in the ring. "You gonna print that?" he asked derisively. Someone passed a picture around. It showed a Basilio of 10 years ago. "Ya see," commented a friend, "ya talk about his 'craggy' face and what fighting's done. But his face looked the same even then, before he used to fight." "Carmen was born beat up," cracked a newsman. Carmen laughed heartily. "You'll collect $54,000," he was told. Carmen grew serious. "A good pay night. But I earned it," he murmured.
It was little enough for what Carmen had lost.
After his two wars with Carmen Basilio, Gene Fullmer met Sugar Ray Robinson twice more, and with that came the end of a great rivalry.
Robinson vs Fullmer III and IV
Let us journey back, boxing fans, to a time when the best fought the best and did so not once every couple of years, but whenever the occasion arose, anxious as those champions were to prove themselves, their fistic careers now glistening marble monuments rising above the mists of time, testament to their glory and unassailable standing as true ring legends. Alas, my friends, we were born too late.
In 1955 a 34-year-old Sugar Ray Robinson became the first pugilist in boxing history to regain the middleweight championship of the world when he emerged from retirement to knock out Bobo Olson in two rounds. Over the next few years he would regain it twice more after losing it in thrilling and violent wars with fellow middleweight greats Gene Fullmer and Carmen Basilio.
Robinson vs Fullmer became a heated rivalry as the two men simply did not like each other, their antipathy translating into vicious clashes in the ring. Their first set-to in January of 1957 saw the aggressive Fullmer prevail by unanimous decision, “The Utah Cyclone” scoring a knockdown in round seven and generally having things his way in a bruising battle. In the rematch four months later, the legendary Sugar Ray scored one of the most memorable wins of his incredible career when he smoked the iron-tough Fullmer with a perfectly timed left hook in round five and put him down for the count, Gene’s only knockout loss.
Their second meeting is one of the great one-punch KO's.
Robinson vs Fullmer II is one of the all-time great one-punch knockouts.
Robinson then split two grueling wars with Basilio before taking a long layoff, but legendary champions can do that when they’ve given boxing fans some of the greatest performances in ring history and amassed a record of almost 150 pro bouts. (Robinson would eventually retire with two hundred fights to his credit.) Meanwhile, warriors Fullmer and Basilio had slugged it out for the vacant title, stripped as it was from Ray due to inactivity. Fullmer stopped Basilio in round fourteen and stopped him again in the return. Thus, the stage was set for a rubber match with the aging Sugar Man.
The third Robinson vs Fullmer fracas took place in Los Angeles and was the most closely contested of the series. There were no knockdowns in a bloody and violent fifteen round struggle that appeared to be going the older man’s way until he ran out of gas in the final few rounds. With his late rally the champion just barely saved his title by a disputed draw, despite the fact the bout was contested in an eighteen foot ring, the smaller dimensions clearly an advantage for the rough, tough, brawling style of Gene Fullmer.
Just three months later they met yet again, this time in Las Vegas, but Robinson had insisted beforehand on a twenty foot ring and threatened to walk if he didn’t get what he wanted. He also demanded six ounce gloves and the privilege of entering the ring last. Fullmer was not impressed.
Sugar Ray Robinson. Drawing by Damien Burton.
“If Robinson is guilty of any sin, it’s the sin of selfishness,” said the champion. “He appears to have very little time for anybody but himself. With him, it’s always me, me, me. His disregard for the other fellow is notorious in boxing. When a fighter is training to meet Robinson, he sits on a hot coal waiting for the first postponement.”
The day before the fight, as the story goes, Robinson and his people burst into the office of Fullmer’s manager, Marv Jenson, and told him he had a very serious problem to deal with, one that put the next night’s main event in jeopardy.
Fullmer was fortunate to retain his title with a draw in the third tilt.
“You better get yourself a brand new ring. And fast,” shouted a furious Sugar Ray. “Because we just went and took a look and that ring down there ain’t but eighteen feet!”
Jenson, sitting at his desk, sighed, reached into a drawer, and tossed Robinson a tape measure. “I don’t have time for this nonsense. That’s a twenty foot ring, ordered to your specifications. Go measure it and see for yourself.”
A short while later Robinson returned with both the tape measure and a puzzled expression on his face. “I coulda swore that ring ain’t twenty feet,” the legendary champion muttered, shaking his head.
“You better get ready for the fight,” growled Jenson. “Unless you got any other complaints.”
Fight IV belonged to Fullmer.
The fourth and final Sugar Ray vs Fullmer match, while action-packed, proved the most anti-climactic of the series. After being staggered by a right hand in round three and then pasted with numerous solid blows, Robinson faded, while Fullmer went on to batter and bully his legendary opponent and win a unanimous decision. In a ring which, in truth, was precisely eighteen feet by eighteen feet.
Decades later, after Marv Jenson died, his family found inside his steel safe a length of coiled metallic measuring tape. It was exactly two feet long.
Gene Fullmer would also fight Florentino Fernandez, and if you really want a picture of what kind of man Fullmer was, that fight was a prime example. I profiled Florentino Fernandez and his fight with Fullmer earlier in the thread, Fernandez was one of the hardest punchers in boxing history and during that fight he hit Gene Fullmer in the arm with a left hook that broke two bones in Fullmer's arm, he also hit Fullmer flush with left hooks that would have taken most guys out instantly, not Fullmer, he took everything Fernandez threw at him and kept coming, Fullmer won that fight. That was Gene freaking Fullmer, built Ford tough, hard as f... was Gene Fullmer.
Florentino Fernandez hits Gene Fullmer with brutal left hooks.
Another example of Gene Fullmer's toughness would be his fight with Eduardo Lausse, if you're not familiar with Lausse, he was an Argentina middleweight, he hit even harder than Florentino Fernandez, they called Eduardo Lausse "Zurdo" and I'll profile him later in the thread, he was a murderous puncher. Anyway Lausse was certainly underrated and his left hook was deadly, thrown with bad intentions and then some. In Fullmer vs Lausse, both guys were loading up so much they were showing us a great example of Newton's third law, as the sheer force of the punches delivered actually sent the deliverer back a step or two when it landed. This fight also showed that Gene Fullmer wasn't just a crude slugger, he could box, Fullmer knew he was in there with a lethal hitter when he fought Lausse, and he was very cautious and boxed a lot from the outside. Anyway, Lausse had taken out all of his opponents that year, but he wouldn't take Fullmer out, Fullmer was just too tough for him. Lausse won the fight by decision, but it was very close, and Fullmer really showed that he was one of the toughest fighters this sport has ever seen.
One last word about Gene Fullmer, I've heard it a lot over the years about how athletes from back then couldn't hang with guys today because of advances in training, nutrition, or whatever else. That doesn't apply in boxing, because if Gene Fullmer were around today, he would be a champion, he was the kind of guy you practically had to kill to beat, and he would cut through today's fighters like a hot knife through butter. He was one of the hardest and brutal men the sport has ever seen. Carmen Basilio once said about Fullmer, "he did everything wrong but did it right", and what Basilio meant by that was that Fullmer didn't fight the way you're fundamentally taught to fight, he just flat out brutalized you his way, and more often than not he got the job done.
Cyclone: Irrepressible Gene Fullmer
In that charmingly twisted language that only fighters can make sound sensible, Carmen Basilio once said of Gene Fullmer, “He did everything wrong, but he did it right.” Carmen knew what he meant and so did the rest of us. Even though cold logic so often takes a battering in the crazy world of boxing, we tend to stick with it as a measuring tool when confronted by those fighters who puzzle us. We assimilate the facts and figures and try to reach a logical conclusion. Heck, it worked OK for Mr Spock. But prize fighters constitute a very special group of men. They cannot be number crunched, packaged and neatly filed. They take pleasure, God bless them, in turning the natural order upside down and twisting it inside out.. Nobody befuddled us more back in the fifties and sixties than Gene Fullmer, the tough and bruising battler from West Jordan, Utah. It was as if Gene had watched Rocky Marciano and set his mind on becoming even more awkward, ungainly and downright contrary than Rocky. In his early days as an unbeaten middleweight, Gene’s auditions would make even the worldliest boxing people wince and reel in shock. They didn’t come any worldlier than Teddy Brenner, who was the matchmaker at the Eastern Parkway Arena in Brooklyn when he got his first look at Gene in 1954. Brenner visibly sagged as he watched Fullmer lumbering through his workout with a crudity and a lack of grace that would become all too familiar in the years to follow. To those who witnessed the session, Teddy’s horrified expression was something to behold. Gene Fullmer was 24-0 as a pro at the time with an impressive 19 knockouts on his slate. How could he possibly look so bad? His most threatening opponents seemed to be his own feet. Brenner, fearing that Gene might trip over his plates and break his neck, implored Fullmer’s manager Marv Jenson to take the kid back to the comparatively gentle environs of Utah for his own safety. What had Teddy Brenner seen that had so dismayed him? He had seen a man who couldn’t box or punch, whose awkward style would leave the average boxing fan stone cold. He saw a fighter who, for all his impossible awkwardness, could still be hit repeatedly with disturbing ease. Teddy kept watching and blinking, looking for that certain something that he might be missing. He couldn’t find it. Brenner’s harsh verdict shocked Marv Jenson but didn’t deter him. Marv had believed in his man Fullmer ever since the man was a raw and enthusiastic young boy. At eight years of age, Gene was taken along to the West Jordan Athletic Club by his father, Tuff, who asked Jenson to teach the lad boxing. Jenson saw at once what nobody else did. “He had it,” said Marv. “I knew it the minute I tried him out. He had three things I could work on. Strength, a good mind and fast reflexes. I took advantage of those three things.” Revelation Gene Fullmer was a streaking revelation in his first years as a pro, barrelling his way through the middleweight ranks with his peculiar brand of bullish, cyclonic effectiveness. He was an exceptionally awkward revelation to be sure, but nobody could beat him. He bulled, he charged, he hustled and sometimes picked up as many lumps as he dished out. But he just kept winning. The artists and the scientists of the ring must have gone back to their dressing rooms wondering what had just rolled over them. Starting out in 1951 with a one round knockout of Glen Peck at Logan, Utah, Gene had taken his unbeaten run to 29 fights by 1954, fighting mainly in his native Beehive State. He made his New York debut in November of that year with a unanimous decision over Jackie LaBua and followed up with decisive quality wins over Germany’s Peter Muller and future world champ, Paul Pender. Gene was moving rapidly into world class and his record over the next couple of years is testament to the depth of genuine world class fighters in the middleweight division of that era. It was near impossible to maintain an unbeaten record in such a minefield of golden talent. When Gene lost three of his next six fights, people wondered if the cream of the division had tumbled the secret of the Fullmer style. The first harsh lesson came from Gil Turner at the Eastern Parkway Arena in April 1955. Sporting a 47-7 record, Gil was a highly capable ring mechanic who matched Gene all the way for toughness and roughness. Turner knocked Fullmer through the ropes for a nine count in the sixth round on the way to posting a convincing points win. Gene learned from his mistakes and avenged the defeat just two months later by out-hustling Turner in West Jordan. Fullmer seemed to be on a roll again when he notched important wins over Del Flanagan and Al Andrews, but then suffered successive back-to-back defeats for the first time in his career. Both were unanimous decisions and both saw Gene hitting the deck. The classy Bobby Boyd turned the trick at the Chicago Stadium in a match refereed by former champ, Tony Zale, decking Fullmer in the third. Then came the handsome Argentinian, Eduardo Lausse, a terrific puncher with a 63-6 slate, who downed Gene in the eight round of their Madison Square Garden meeting. Never usually one to complain, Gene was always niggled by the Boyd knockdown, claiming that it was no more than a slip. Typically, Fullmer ploughed on defiantly, beginning the five-fight run that would carry him to a title shot against the great Sugar Ray Robinson. There is a valuable lesson to be learned here for the excitable, OTT boxing crowd of the present era. Educational, competitive defeats never did harm a learning fighter and never will. How many times now do we hear of a single loss being described as a ‘major reverse’ or a ‘disaster’? Small wonder that the boxing fans of today, drunk on all the propaganda of the obsessive ‘0’ in a fighter’s loss column, should so hastily dismiss the great ringmen of yesteryear. They must look at those all those defeats on Dick Tiger’s record and wonder what all the fuss was about. How did Gene Fullmer and his contemporaries cope with adversity? Well, for starters, they didn’t take a year off to ‘find themselves’. They simply couldn’t afford to. They went back to the gym, eradicated the flaws in their make-up as best they could and kept working to improve their technique and their attitude of mind. Fullmer’s losses to Boyd and Lausse were just two months apart and both were tough and arduous affairs. Little more than a month after the Lausse fight, Gene was back in the ring at the Cleveland Arena in Ohio against no less a tough cookie than Rocky Castellani. Fullmer took a split decision off Rocky and over the following eight months defeated Gil Turner for the second time, Ralph ‘Tiger’ Jones, Charley Humez and Moses Ward. That’s taking care of business! Robinson We harbour many misconceptions when we are young. As a wee lad in the early sixties, I remember reading my father’s boxing magazines and thinking how wonderful it must be to win a world championship. I saw those pictures of Gene Fullmer from 1957 after he had taken the world title from Sugar Ray Robinson at Madison Square Garden and remember thinking what a lucky man Gene was. The fame! The glory! The money! Yes, Robbie was no longer the Robbie of his peerless welterweight days. He was older, slower and getting caught out much more often. But it still struck me as a colossal achievement on Fullmer’s part to dethrone the legendary Sugar Man. In my youthful naivety, I wondered what kind of mansion Gene lived in and how many millions he had stashed in the bank. Well, Gene still lived in his same modest abode in Utah, where he was still going to work as a welder. Such was the lot of the middleweight champion of the world in those not so distant days. After a full day’s work, he would train in the evenings, the victim of a boss who didn’t believe that a fellow needed extra time off to prepare for Sugar Ray Robinson. One thinks of Charley Burley finishing a long day shift and then making his way to the Legion Stadium in Hollywood for the small business of taking care of Archie Moore. Fullmer was very confident going into the Robinson fight. Gene and Marv Jenson worked long and hard to secure the match, which only served to fuel Gene’s motivation when he got the green light. The unsung challenger prepared diligently for his greatest hour. Gene recalls that he was very calm throughout his training camp. He didn’t agree with the general consensus that Robinson was the greatest thing since popcorn. This view was shared by Fullmer’s future opponent, Carmen Basilio, who insisted that Willie Pep was the superior technician of the two ‘gods’ of that golden age. Gene would have four fights with the great Robinson before their rivalry was concluded, but would not rate them among the toughest fights of his career. Nevertheless, they were fascinating and significant chapters in the history of the middleweight division, capturing the imagination of the boxing public. They pitted the ageing artisan against the honest agriculturist, the scales deliciously balanced by the slow ebbing of Robbie’s old magic and the rise of Fullmer as a dogged and infernally difficult man to beat. Basilio was correct in his later observation of the cyclone from West Jordan. Gene did indeed do everything wrong, but few men could pick the confounding lock of his almost unique safe. The Fullmer camp hired tall sparring partners who were instructed to fight in Robinson’s style. Gene learned to cut the ring off on them, pressure them constantly and not allow them to get their shots off. He knew that Robbie liked to punch from long range and that the way to negate the Sugar Man’s wonderful skills was to shut him down. Fullmer practised over and over in the gym, learning how to protect his chin from return fire as he bulled his way inside. The great plan worked like a charm on the night of January 2 1957 at Madison Square Garden. Robinson, gashed over the left eye and sent through the ropes for a count in the seventh round, simply couldn’t cope with the illogical, unorthodox bundle of energy that kept charging and washing over him. Gene won the championship by a unanimous decision and the purists went home and cried into their beer. That left hook Robinson had to get another chance. He always did. Even as his thirty-sixth birthday approached and the last of his silky skills leaked away, people could not believe it when he lost. Defeats were treated as aberrations that had to be put right. This time, however, those in the know believed that Ray was finally tackling a bridge too far. Going into the return match at the Chicago Stadium four months later, Robinson was a three-to-one underdog. It seemed unbelievable. As somebody said, “Nobody was ever three-to-one over Ray Robinson.” Fullmer was convinced that he could take the old man again and move on to even greater achievements. Robinson replied to that with six ominous words that would become famous: “No man ever beat me twice.” For four rounds, it seemed that the ‘experts’ had called it right and Ray was deluding himself. Fullmer picked up from where he had left off in the first fight, hustling and bullying Robinson out of his stride, attacking and pressuring all the time. Everything appeared rosy in Gene’s garden. But one shrewd fellow had his reservations. Trainer Marv Jenson was deeply concerned by his man’s sudden recklessness. Jenson saw that Gene was too eager, too confident and holding his hands too low as he came in. Even against the ageing Robinson, these were dangerous invitations to disaster. Jenson recalled, “When Gene was swinging hard, he was leaving his chin open. I kept telling him to keep one hand up if he was going to swing like that.” Fullmer clubbed away to the body and was marginally ahead after four rounds, but Ray remained patient as he sought to suck Gene into the quicksand. In the fourth round, Robinson halted Gene’s forward march temporarily with a combination of precisely placed punches. Fullmer took them well and probably thought that he had soaked up the best that the old champion could offer. Robinson kept the faith. At his best, he could still read and dictate a fight like no other man alive. The master tactician had seen the encouraging signs and waited for the moment when he could drop the big bomb. The bomb he dropped that night was one of the most precise and devastating left hooks ever thrown in championship boxing. It left Fullmer writhing in a state of semi-paralysis at 1:27 seconds of the fifth round, the first and only time in Gene’s career that he heard the doleful decimal. Two whiplash rights to the body from Ray had shunted Fullmer sideways, straight into the perfect firing line. End of game! To his eternal credit, Fullmer was always admirably frank about his one visit to dreamland. “It’s a sensation I’d never had before and one I don’t necessarily want again. “Robinson’s best punch was any punch he could hit you with. But I felt without doubt that if I could beat him once, I could surely beat him again. I felt that if I put more pressure on him, I could maybe knock him out. “In the fifth, I moved in with my left hand maybe six inches lower than it should have been, and he slipped that left hook over the top and caught me right on the chin. All at once the lights went out. I had never been knocked out. I had no idea what it felt like and I can’t tell you what it feels like even now.” Forget about it! A disastrous defeat? A calamitous setback? Forget about it. That was Gene Fullmer’s philosophy after the Robinson knockout. Gene went back to the drawing board, worked at plugging the leaks in his game and entered the most successful phase of his career. In the following years, the Cyclone would blow and bull his way to victories over top drawer opposition in Ralph ‘Tiger’ Jones, Chico Vejar, Neal Rivers, Milo Savage, Joe Miceli, Wilf Greaves, the thunder-punching Florentino Fernandez and Benny ‘Kid’ Paret. Gene would twice vanquish that most accomplished ring mechanic, the dangerous Ellsworth ‘Spider’ Webb, as well as engaging in two memorable brawls with Carmen Basilio. There was also the matter of taking care of Mr Robinson once and for all. By December 1960, when he met Gene for the third time, Ray was spitting out his last defiant drops of genius, hounded by a posse of snarling young cats who wanted the great man’s illustrious name in their ‘win’ columns. It had been 20 years and more than 150 fights since the Harlem Flash had begun his astonishing professional journey. Now he was walking the tightrope between his glorious past and the barren future that he could not bring himself to acknowledge. But there was one incredible effort left in Robinson when he faced Fullmer at the Sports Arena in Los Angeles. By that time, Gene was the NBA champion and Ray had finally found the man who could beat him twice. Boston firefighter Paul Pender had relieved Robinson of the lineal championship earlier that year and then defeated Ray in their return. Both fights were split decisions. Both showed the gaping cracks now splitting Robinson’s once pristine armour. Surely Ray couldn’t turn back the clock and come again. He very nearly did. He failed heroically against Fullmer and only by a whisker. The fight was declared a draw, producing a set of the most diverse scorecards ever turned in by three wise men. Referee Tommy Hart had Robbie running away with it by 11-4. Judge Lee Grossman saw it 9-5-1 for Gene, while judge George Latka called it even. It was Sugar Ray Robinson’s last great stand. When he took his final run at Fullmer in March 1961, Gene bulldozed his way to a unanimous points win at the Convention Center in Las Vegas. The well had run dry for Robbie. So began the final, poignant chapter of his career when he would travel the world chasing ghosts. Brawling with Basilio Perhaps the three fights that defined Gene Fullmer during his bruising, stormy reign as NBA champion were his two wars with Carmen Basilio and his ferocious, foul-filled struggle with Joey Giardello. The Giardello fight, at the Montana State College Fieldhouse in Bozeman in April 1960, continues to reverberate comically to all but the two participants. Both men were guilty of tearing up the rulebook, yet both continued to protest their innocence as the years rolled on. Gene, as proficient a billy goat as there ever was, claimed that Joey blatantly butted him. Joey, who knew every trick in the book, insisted he only did so because Gene had butted him first. Fullmer suffered a bad cut to the head, claiming that Giardello rammed him after locking his arm. But none of that was important anyway, said Joey, because he beat Fullmer out of sight and the decision stank. Giardello believed he won nine or ten of the fifteen rounds and wanted to fight on at the finish. At ringside, the Fullmer and Giardello brothers were threatening to fight each other as a sideshow attraction. It was some night in Bozeman and every man in the house was a good guy who had been wronged. Fullmer’s slugfests with Basilio for Gene’s NBA championship were marathon tests of endurance between two of the great tough guys of the ring. Carmen was on the wane after a hard career fighting the best welterweights and middleweights in the world, but the gutsy New York onion farmer from upstate Canastota simply didn’t know how to go quietly. He was locking horns with something of a soul brother in Fullmer, but Gene was bigger, younger and stronger. Fullmer stopped Basilio in the fourteenth round of their first brutal contest at the Cow Palace in San Francisco in 1959, but it was in the battle of Derk Field in Salt Lake City in the high summer of 1960 that the fireworks went off in earnest – in more ways than one. Gene produced his most commanding performance in a gruelling battle of physical strength and high emotion. Carmen, an immensely proud man who had traded on his fighting heart and toughness for so long, seemed to fall apart all at once as old Father time caught him by the tail and sent him asunder. Bulled and battered, slugged and mauled, Basilio was rescued by referee Pete Giacoma in the twelfth round. The act of compassion was not appreciated. His eyes cut and his body covered in ugly welts, Carmen raged at Giacoma and had to be escorted back to his corner by police officers. “Gene and I are good friends but this Utah Athletic Commission belongs to Marv Jenson,” Basilio stormed in the aftermath. “And that referee – he never should have stopped it. He could see the handwriting on the wall.” Like every proud warrior in denial, Carmen had seen a different fight to the one that had taken place. The Reno Evening Gazette reported: “The battered ex-champion was obviously hurt by Fullmer lefts to the body and right shots to the face. Bleeding, reeling and holding on in the twelfth, it appeared the end was near one way or the other. “There were no knockdowns, but in the eighth Fullmer crashed into Basilio as he was going away and Carmen went flat on his back, came up on his shoulder, then back on his feet again like a seasoned tumbler.” Basilio had found out what it was like to fight Gene Fullmer. Like so many others who had engaged the curiously likeable slugger from Utah, Carmen staggered from the fray disbelieving his cuts and bruises and his aches and pains. How could such a crude and apparently rudderless barge of a man inflict such damage? Perhaps even Gene Fullmer himself never quite knew the answer to that one. But six months into a new decade, the cyclone from West Jordan was the monarch of all he surveyed. He was doing it all wrong, but he was doing it gloriously right.
Some great photos of Gene Fullmer, I've been looking for the type 1 original photo of this image for a while.
Gene Fullmer and Sugar Ray Robinson really put each other through pure hell in their Four fights.
In the first Fullmer vs Robinson fight, Gene Fullmer knocked Sugar Ray through the ropes and the ropes snapped, Gene Fullmer swarmed all over Ray Robinson the entire fight.
Fullmer really roughed Sugar Ray Robinson up in their first fight, Robinson's face was a bloody mess.
Robinson really got the worst of it in their first encounter.
In the second Fullmer vs Robinson fight, Sugar Ray got his revenge with the perfect punch, a left hook that knocked Fullmer out, it was the only time in his career that Fullmer was knocked out.
Fullmer vs Robinson was one of the greatest rivalries in boxing history, they really went at it in their Four encounters.
Gene Fullmer in training.
Gene Fullmer chopping wood with an axe, this helped improve his punching power and his overall strength.
Gene Fullmer vs Dick Tiger. Two immovable objects going at it, I'll be profiling the legendary Dick Tiger later in the thread, Fullmer and Tiger fought three times at the end of Fullmer's career, Tiger beat him twice and drew with him. There were a lot of similarities between Fullmer and Tiger, both were strong as all get out, solid as granite, and both were knocked out only once in their entire career.
Fullmer lands a body shot to Dick Tiger.
Fullmer vs Gil Turner, I'll also be profiling Gil Turner later in the thread. Gil Turner was a handful for anyone, he was going right at you from the opening bell, a hard puncher that was looking to take you out or die trying, any fight with Gil Turner in it is a good one.
Gene Fullmer vs Carmen Basilio, those were some apocalyptic fights.
Gene Fullmer training.
Gene Fullmer "The Cyclone", sheer brutality in it's prime.
Rodrigo Valdez, "The Colombian Rocky", I'm not sure how a guy like Valdez isn't in the International Boxing Hall of Fame, but he's not. He gave Carlos Monzon his toughest fights, had him on the deck, only the second man in history to floor Carlos Monzon. Valdez was also the only man to ever stop the iron chinned Bad Bennie Briscoe, and was an all around bad mf'er with great boxing skills. Would probably take out any of today's champions. Rodrigo DEFINITELY belongs in the Hall. Many don't realize he turned pro in 1962 as a 16-17 year old in 1962, continued fighting in Columbia until the late 60's to early 70's before his arrival into MSG. He was as over the hill as Monzon was when they fought.
Quite simply, Valdez was one bad son of a *****. Downsides, he was a notorious slow starter. Rumor had it, Gil Clancy used to warn the refs that Valdez might look a little lethargic in the early going but not to worry. Prone to cuts. But none were so bad in his prime to warrant stoppage. He came loaded with power from both sides of the plate and, if you dropped him into ANY era, would raise hell with Greb, Walker, Zale, an aging Sugar, any of the 60's middles. Simply put, an ATG wrecking ball machine.
Rodrigo Valdez was a dangerous guy to be in the ring with, he was a smooth boxer but he could crack, he's ranked number 29 on Ring magazine's 100 hardest punchers list. To get an example of his power, he fought "Bad Bennie" Briscoe three times and beat Briscoe twice by decision, but what happened in their second fight was truly shocking, he stopped Briscoe in the 7th round. Bennie Briscoe had one of the best chins in boxing history and Valdez was the only man to ever halt Briscoe.
Rodrigo Valdez stops Bennie Briscoe in round 7 of their second fight.
Unsung 20th Century Fights: Rodrigo Valdes vs Bennie Briscoe 2
Rodrigo Valdes and Bennie Briscoe met a second time in Monaco in May 1974
Rodrigo Valdes and Bennie Briscoe re-entered the ring on May 25, 1974 after putting on a 12-round spectacle which saw Valdes win on points just under nine months prior. The vacant WBC middleweight title was up for grabs this time around, and both fighters fought tooth and nail to claim the crown.
Valdes had previously captured the NABF middleweight title after defeating Briscoe, and this time, the biggest sanctioning body in boxing offered up more bragging rights for the victor.
Both fighters were experienced. Briscoe owned a 49-12-1 record and had previously contended for the WBC middleweight crown, as well as the WBA title in a losing effort to then-undisputed champion Carlos Monzon. As for Valdes, he sported a 50-4-2 record.
In front of an eager crowd in Fontvieille, Monaco, Briscoe and Valdes brought action and skill to the ring in a must-see fight.
The Fight
At the sound of the opening bell, Valdes instantaneously took to the ropes and Briscoe withered away at his body with sweeping hooks. As Briscoe stalked him around the ring, a snappy 1-2 combination to the face sent Valdes spiraling. Valdes then let his hands fly, throwing an incredible 24 unanswered punches with variety. Despite this astounding barrage, the round was rather close, but Valdes did enough to earn 10 points on my card.
In round two, Briscoe put Valdes’ back to the ropes and started with hooks, but also let off a 10-punch sequence, setting up a snappy uppercut that connected. Valdes seemed to not want to escape being cornered and threw back sparingly, but when Briscoe focused his hooks and crosses on his head, Valdes was forced to crouch again. The fight got sloppy midway with a lot of missed jabs and haymakers. Valdez ended the round superbly, landing tactful shots upstairs, giving him a two-round lead early.
A different story was told in round three, as Briscoe fell in love with his jab. Valdes had enough of making the ropes his strength and got to moving. A 1-2-3 to end the round made Valdes look both ways like a pedestrian at the light, and Briscoe earned himself a much-needed round.
As the fight progressed, Valdes earned a win in each remaining round, save round six, which was discernibly too close to call. Round four saw Valdes infiltrate Briscoe’s defense with a lightning-quick sequence that included a left and right hook, a straight left to the center of the body that opened up and a right cross to the face that opened up after that. It was a round of high punch counts but Valdes was more precise.
Round five was more of the same as Briscoe showed his Philly swag with the patented shell defense, but it only lasted a moment as he was otherwise outboxed. Briscoe got to playing pinball with Valdes’ head in the sixth as he found continual success forcing the Colombian on the ropes. To create space, Valdes used his jab effectively to even the round.
To close the fight, Briscoe connected on one of the most jarring straight rights you’ll ever see. He set it up with two uppercuts to drop Valdes’ hands, then threw the left jab to misdirect before dropping the anvil and pummeling Valdes. The last laugh would belong to Valdes as he landed a short right hand that caused Briscoe to stiffen up, leading to the TKO call.
Conclusion
Valdes vs Briscoe 2 pitted an unsung middleweight legend in Valdes against a bruiser of a middleweight contender in Briscoe, delivering an action-packed affair.
Valdes would go on to defend his WBC middleweight championship four times before losing in a unification bout to WBA and The Ring middleweight champion Monzon in June 1976. He would pick up two tune-up victories before losing in a rematch to Monzon in July 1977 for the same three belts.
Valdes finished with a record of 63-8-2, including a third defeat of Briscoe in 1977, before ending his memorable career.
Briscoe fell to 49-13-1 following his defeat at the hands of Valdes and would end his career at 66-24-5.
Rodrigo Valdez fought Carlos Monzon twice, Monzon won both fights but Valdez put him through hell. In their second fight, Valdez caught Monzon with a right hand that dropped Monzon to one knee, only the second time Monzon had ever been on the deck. I never liked Carlos Monzon, he is one of the greatest middleweights in history, no denying that, but Monzon was a vicious and violent man outside the ring, he beat all of his girlfriends up and even murdered one of his girlfriends, he was a real piece of garbage.
Rodrigo Valdez puts Carlos Monzon down.
A STAR BOWS OUT, A STAR BOWS IN
CARLOS MONZON'S VICTORY OVER RODRIGO VALDES WAS THE 89TH OF HIS CAREER, THE LAST 83 OF THEM IN A ROW, AND NOW THE MIDDLEWEIGHT CHAMP WILL RETIRE TO HIS MOVIE CAREER AS ARGENTINA'S JAMES BOND. BUT, AS THEY SAY IN BOXING, DON'T BET ON IT.
When it was all over last Saturday in Monte Carlo, Carlos Monzon gingerly eased the position of his battered body on the rubdown table and permitted himself a small, almost silent laugh. He was still the middleweight champion of the world, but Rodrigo Valdes had forced him to fight 15 punishing and bloody rounds to prove it. At the end, it took a great effort for Monzon just to stand and hear the decision. His face was cut and puffed, his right hand was almost useless. And now, only minutes after returning to his dressing room, he seemed ready at last to give it all up.
The bitter amusement passed swiftly. Monzon seldom shows emotion and he is even more miserly with any sign of humor. "It is done," the now full-time Argentine film star said flatly. "I have done it all. I leave it now to the young fighters."
It is the right time. Monzon has been champion for nearly seven years and he has been undefeated in 83 fights since 1964, but age has started robbing him of his marvelous skills and awesome power. He will be 35 in a few days. His film career is launched; he has $2 million salted away in a New York bank; he owns apartment houses, thousands of acres of ranchland and a Mercedes-Benz agency in Argentina. What does he need boxing for?
"He needs it because he is an animal and he lives for macho," said Rodolfo Sabbatini, who promotes Monzon's fights in Monte Carlo and produces his films in Rome. "He says he is retiring, but next January or February he will call me and say, 'How come you haven't got me a fight? I'm coming back.' By the end of the year eliminations will bring a new champion, and then Monzon will have to fight the man who succeeds him. It's his macho."
Proving his macho has always been Monzon's undoing. Because of fights in the streets he spent a lot of time in jail between the ages of 16 and 26. He was lucky that his manager, Amilcar Brusa, also trained the police boxing team. They say that Monzon was paroled on Saturdays so he could fight as a professional. On Sundays it was back into the slammer. There may be some truth to it. He recently appealed and won a release from another 18-month sentence for assault but reportedly still faces an eight-month sentence on another charge.
"He's got a big file, about 40 arrests," says Sabbatini. "It's not true when they say the best fighters come from ghettos. The best ones come from jail. But that is good. If they didn't lock up those animals, the streets wouldn't be safe for us."
When Sabbatini speaks of Monzon, it is with the curious mixture of amusement and an almost parental pride. With great relish he tells of Monzon meeting Helmut Berger, the German movie star. It was last February in Rome, just after Monzon had completed his most recent film, one aptly titled II Macho.
"Berger was pretty drunk and he sat on Monzon's lap," Sabbatini said. "Then he tried to put his hand inside of Monzon's shirt. Monzon threw him across the room and was going after him when my driver Gino stopped him. Gino is a big guy. He is Monzon's bodyguard in Rome."
To protect Monzon from the adoring public?
Sabbatini roared with laughter. "No, to protect him from what can happen to the public."
Monzon refuses to play the role of a bad guy in films. He sees himself more as a new James Bond (he looks like a cross between Charles Bronson and Jack Palance) destroying evil international cartels and saving old women and children. Monzon also refuses to play the role of a boxer. He has drawn rave advance reviews for Il Macho, which will be released soon. In the film Monzon plays a double role. First he is a murder victim and then, as his double, assumes the victim's identity and destroys an army of bad guys. "He throws a lot of punches in his films," Sabbatini says, "but never as a boxer. He always wins in the end. With Monzon, the public would believe nothing less."
Monzon has been mildly threatening to retire since 1972, and after he beat Valdes on a close decision in Monte Carlo 13 months ago, there were doubts that he would fight again. But there was the fact that he had merely decisioned Valdes—who had then called him a coward. And here came this offer of $500,000 plus about $60,000 in Argentine TV rights for a rematch. "O.K., one more," Monzon said. "Then I retire."
Monzon finished his movie and went into intense training. "I have never seen him more serious about any fight," said Brusa. Sabbatini admitted that he had been worried about Monzon's condition. Because of the film, Monzon hadn't had a fight—at least not in the ring—since Valdes, and Valdes had fought twice. "But now he looks in superb condition. It just proves to me that he is an animal. A beautiful animal."
Valdes, 30, worked equally hard and came in just as finely tuned. "He just knows he's going to win," said Gil Clancy, the Colombian's manager. "One day he told me to go out and bet his whole purse on him. Of course, I let that go over my head. Anything can happen. But that's the kind of confidence he has."
Monzon said it didn't matter how confident Valdes was. "I will batter him before the limit. Then comes the true life: the champagne, the Beaujolais, the music, the dance." And to prove that the good life could wait, Monzon didn't bring his movie-actress girl friend Susana Gimenez to Monte Carlo. Before the first Valdes fight Monzon's handlers claimed the champion was putting his love life ahead of his work and had asked the actress to move to another hotel. This time, in effect, she was asked to move to another country. She wondered at all the fuss. "All we do is play gin rummy," she said.
Despite Valdes' confidence, no one, not even Clancy, expected him to do much more in the early going than survive. He is a notoriously slow starter, and in the first fight it took him six rounds to get into gear. "Then he only has one gear, like Joe Frazier: smoking," Clancy said. "You just have to get him into it."
At the bell, Valdes was obviously geared to smoke. He is a buzz saw, short and furious, a hammer that never stops, and from the onset he carried the fight to the champion. In the second round, Valdes opened a cut on Monzon's nose, then knocked him down with an overhand right over a left lead. Monzon hadn't been off his feet since Jorge Fernandez floored him in 1966.
Leaping up, Monzon raised both arms and took a standing eight count. Then, clearly irritated, he went to work. He was crisp, zeroing in on a target that moved ever closer, cracking jabs and throwing crushing right hands. By the fifth round Valdes' left eye was swelling and his face looked as if it had been attacked by a swarm of tiny razor blades. Then the fight swung direction once more. Boring in constantly, Valdes began double-hooking, over and under, and followed with jolting right hands. Monzon looked confused. Valdes was taking the fight away from him.
Valdes won the seventh and eighth rounds easily and was winning the ninth. Then, just before the bell, Monzon came up with a new trick: step right, throw right. Simple. He caught Valdes lunging and staggered him as the round ended. Monzon stayed with the tactic until he had Valdes hurt. Then he went to both hands, opening holes in Valdes' face, slicing him over the left eye—a 10-stitcher—raining blood on himself and the ring. The 12th round was brutal. Valdes took massive punishment, gave almost none. At the end of the round, Clancy worked feverishly to close the eye cut. Across the ring, Monzon was telling Brusa, "I've hurt my right hand. I don't know if I can use it anymore." The hand is arthritic, and his handlers deaden it with no-vocaine before a fight. But the novocaine was no longer effective. Looking across the ring at Valdes, Brusa said, "You won't need it. Just keep hitting him with the left." "This eye is bad," Clancy was telling Valdes. "You better go out firing. You got to gamble."
Clancy had worked a miracle on the eye. Valdes set out to work one in the ring. He pressed Monzon, who tried to hold him off with the left hand, and suddenly the champ was in trouble. Desperate, he went back to the right hand in the 14th round, threw six straight, hard punches with it and finally slowed Valdes. In the last round, they reduced boxing to its most primitive form. Both were covered with blood, most of it Valdes', and each was going for the kill.
The officials all gave the fight to Monzon, two by three points, one by two.
Back in the locker room, 11-year-old Abel Monzon approached his father, who sat slumped on the rubbing table. "When you were knocked down I cried many tears," he said. Rising, Monzon put one hand on the boy's thin shoulder. "O.K. In life you get knocked down many times. The important thing is always get up."
That, Abel, is macho.
Showering blood and soaking up punches, Valdes took the fight to Monzon, but took a beating.
There's really not much else to say about Rodrigo Valdez, he had sound fundamentals, could switch from puncher to boxer, and could punch with either hand in burst fire combinations, deadly power with the right hand. He was was one dangerous son of a gun.
Rodrigo Valdez had brutal power.
Rodrigo Valdez throws a right hand at Carlos Monzon.
Valdez catches Monzon with a right hand.
Valdez vs Monzon.
Valdez knocks Monzon into the ropes.