Victor "the animal" Galindez, light heavyweight. He didn't get the nickname "the animal" for nothing, he was one rough customer. He was a short (5'10") heavily muscled guy, who liked to brawl or counterpunch. Basically, Galindez would hold back, rattling his fists but not attempting much. He'd let the other man lead, then he'd counterpunch with heavy hooks to the head or jaw. Whenever possible, Galindez would open up with furious combos of hooks and uppercuts. On the inside, Galindez would really rough guys up in the trenches. Another favored Galindez tactic was to lay back on the ropes, draw his opponent in, then throw powerful counterpunches.
Most of all, Galindez had superb durability and stamina. He could take a heavy shot, engage in wars, and storm back during the final five rounds to win. Galindez tended to beat his opponents down over the stretch. Most of all, he was the kind of guy that you had to kill to beat, he was willing to spill every last drop of blood he had, a real savage.
If you want to know what kind of man and fighter Victor Galindez was, May 22nd, 1976, Victor Galindez vs Richie Kates. On this night, Victor Galindez defended his light heavyweight title against Richie Kates in one of the most blood soaked and violent battles in boxing history, Galindez had a PhD in badassery.
BLOOD, SWEAT, TEARS AND DEATH – VICTOR GALINDEZ VS. RICHIE KATES 45 YEARS LATER
For every fighter that climbs through the ropes, there is a story painted in furious strokes of blood, sweat and tears. There is always a kid leaving his family behind in pursuit of a big dream in a big city, there is a mentor who takes him under his wing, there is an idol he admires and tries to imitate. There is money, there are all the good things that money brings. There is, inevitably, pain. There are perilous travels, there are unknown dangers, there are unsurmountable odds and fearful enemies, and there are all the good things that they destroy.
Victor Galindez was born in 1948 as one of 10 siblings in a family of farmhands in Vedia, a town lost somewhere in the Argentine Pampas. He found his way to Buenos Aires in his teens. Soon enough, the dream of becoming a professional prizefighter toppled every other ambition he brought with him, and he gradually found his way to the fabled Luna Park Stadium, which included a gym in which some of the best fighters in South America trained daily. One of them happened to be one of his heroes, and will soon become his friend and his inspiration.
His name was Oscar Bonavena, but he had become a national celebrity under his nickname: “Ringo.” He even had his own TV show, which was nothing but a live broadcast of his family’s Sunday lunch, where his mother Dominga would cook her famous homemade ravioli for everyone in their house in the neighborhood of Parque Patricios. Occasionally, Ringo would sing corky songs with a pop band on TV, or act as juror in beauty pageants. He shattered every TV audience record in the country when he faced Muhammad Ali in 1970 and had managed to cram over 25,000 people at Luna Park for his bout against Gregorio Peralta. He was every man’s hero and every woman’s guilty crush.
Richie Kates was born in 1953 as one of 11 siblings in a family of farmhands in Savanah, Georgia. Soon enough, he relocated to New Jersey. In his teens, boxing found him and inspired him to devote himself to the discipline that school had failed to instill in him. He lied about his age to make his professional debut in December 1969, only six months after Galindez had made his debut some 5200 miles south in Argentina.
Pierre Fourie was born in 1943 and became a professional boxer 20 years later. A popular fighter with an active and profitable career, he routinely gathered large crowds in his native South Africa. In 1975, he summoned two of the largest live attendances of his career for two unsuccessful attempts at the world light heavyweight title in the hands of Galindez, and capped the year with a loss to Kates. In 1976, his promoters Maurice and Allan Toweel decided that bringing Galindez and Kates back to South Africa for what would be only the second title fight among foreigners in the country’s history would be a great idea.
Twenty days before traveling to South Africa as part of Galindez’s corner, Argentine manager-promoter Tito Lectoure had his former junior welterweight champion Nicolino Locche fighting at the Luna Park Stadium against Houston’s Lorenzo Trujillo.
After the fight, Lectoure claims, Trujillo’s trainer (whose name has been lost in the sands of time) made an unprompted approach to the Hall of Fame promoter with an unusual suggestion.
“Take this,” he said, handing Lectoure an unmarked container filled with an unnamed unguent or ointment. “One of our guys is fighting Richie Kates soon, and he uses his head a lot. You’ll need this”.
One week after coming home to his trailer located within the sprawling 166-acre complex of the Mustang Ranch Brothel only to find the smoldering ashes of what were once his clothes and his passport, Ringo Bonavena was mulling his options at a hotel bar in downtown Reno, Nevada. A fight was being proposed to him, in New York. But he had a different trip in mind. May 23 was his wife’s birthday, and he intended to be in Buenos Aires with her, and perhaps never return stateside again. Even though this would mean leaving, among other things, his other wife behind.
A more detailed explanation is in order.
Bonavena, employed as a host by the Mustang Ranch and under contract as a fighter for the joint’s owner Joe Conforte, had been forced to marry one of the ladies in the stable of “courtesans” (one Cheryl Ann Rebideaux) in order to expedite his immigration papers. A marriage of convenience, yes, with the added inconvenience of Bonavena’s yet unresolved marital situation in Argentina. As well as the not-so-minor inconvenience in the fact that Rebideaux was the romantic partner of Mustang Ranch security guard Willard Ross Brymer.
To top it all off, “Ringo” was at odds with Conforte over his unwillingness to fight again at the extravagant fight cards he held in his property. Add Ringo’s extra-cozy relationship with Conforte’s sexagenarian wife Sally to the mix, and the stage was set for Bonavena to square off against forces he had never envisioned, even as a former opponent of some of the most murderous punchers that the heavyweight division had ever produced.
As the sun rose over the “biggest little city in the world”, Bonavena left the lounge of the hotel to grab his suitcase from his trailer and then board a plane to fly back home.
The brown Montecarlo coupe he drove to arrive at the gates of the Mustang Ranch, however, would be the last vehicle he would ever board.
On the other side of the world, the sun was already beginning to fade. In the late afternoon of May 22 in Johannesburg, South Africa, Galindez and Kates had already hit the scales in their same-day weigh-in, and were ready to fight in the chilly outdoors of the Rand Stadium under the auspices of Toweel’s Springbok Promotions.
On any other occasion, the toughest part of the event would have been left behind for Galindez, who was notorious for his weight issues. As a poor kid growing up in a large family in a small country town in Argentina, a bottle of cold Coca Cola was one of his childhood’s most cherished treats, and as he grew up he became addicted to carbonated beverages. The weigh-in, the “round zero” of every fight, then, became one of the toughest ones throughout his career. The sacrifice, he thought as he stepped down from the scales, is over. But the night was young, indeed.
So busy was Galindez gushing down his favorite post-weigh-in beverage and rejoicing in having complied with this tortuous ritual, that he probably didn’t notice the murmurs being whispered around his entourage, comprised of about a dozen compatriots including doctors, seconds, family members and “embedded journalists” who moved with him wherever he went.
The impending bout, however, required all of his attention. And sweating off the excess weight will soon be the least of his concerns.
Rounds one and two came and went. Kates had quickly established his jab, lunging forward with his head after the jab without following up with a proper punch. The combination (of movements, if not of punches) would become a problem as the fight progressed, but for now it worked for Kates, who managed to stay away from Galindez’s inside game. The champion rolled with the punches and connected a few pull-counter hooks and crosses.
The third round, however, is where the fight unraveled beyond anyone’s wildest dreams.
After a glancing head butt by Kates, Galindez grimaced in pain and covered his right eye as he retreated towards his corner. A T-shaped cut had been cracked open by the accidental clash of heads, and blood was spurting out of it in unstoppable quantities.
Confusion reigned. Some 20 people jumped into the ring, including photographers and a few journalists. Kates retreated to his corner and was covered in towels to stay warm as the official decision was announced. In Galindez’s corner, ringside doctor Clive Noble diligently checked the wound, arguing that although it was deep and bloody, it was not an impairing injury.
Galindez’s horrific wound and warrior spirit immortalized in this street art. Photo courtesy of Matías-Danna A.K.A. La-Brea-www.instagram.comlabrea.ko-02.
With this in mind, local referee Stanley Christodoulou, in what was only the second world title fight of his career, displayed a remarkable calmness in invoking, for the first time in history, the use of the no-foul rule for an accidental cut. “In those years, a period of five minutes’ recovery was used for low blows as well as cuts,” said Christodoulou. “However, under the prevailing South African Rules, the fight would have been stopped.”
The announcer was already on the canvas with his microphone in hand, but instead of announcing the end of the bout he cleared the ring for the fight to resume, with the caveat that if the fight had to be stopped due to the severity of the cut later in the evening, Galindez would lose the bout.
Allowing his fighter to continue and facing those odds while suffering a potentially extraordinary blood loss and the debilitating pain that goes with it placed an unimaginable burden on the champion and his corner, but this was the kind of maverick move that Lectoure would become famous for. He patted his own pockets in search of the magic nameless ointment. Making a blind bet on a substance that could have been anything from harmful to magical, from poisonous to miraculous or even simply illegal, Lectoure nodded his approval to the referee. The fight was back on. Christodoulou motioned the fighters to the center of the ring, just a few seconds shy of the maximum five minutes allowed by the no-foul rule.
Galindez’s remarkable comeback began to take shape in the fourth round. Throwing bombs with both hands at an impossibly close distance from his target, Galindez stood right in Kates’ face while launching a demolishing attack. His caution-to-the-wind approach left him open for a few serious uppercuts by Kates, but a pattern had been established that would last for the foreseeable future: Galindez would charge towards Kates like a wounded animal, and Kates would continue waiting for a mistake or an opening that rarely surfaced.
Galindez began shaking his head trying to spray off the blood gushing through his sliced eyebrow. Also at around that time, Galindez began using Christodoulou’s shirt as his own personal face towel, clinching Kates until the referee came to separate them, and then wiping his face clean on his shirt.
The fifth round was a no-jabs, all-you-can-eat power punch buffet from Galindez. He let go his hands like his life depended on it, and managed to sneak in a low blow just as a measure of revenge against Kates, who returned the favor later in the round.
By the sixth round, Christodoulou’s shirt was already an essential stage prop in the gory tragedy that the fight was becoming. Just as in the sixth station of the Via Crucis, Christodoulou’s sleeves turned into the veil with which Veronica wiped the bloodied face of Jesus on his way to Mount Calvary. The second half of the round was a full-on slugfest, as Galindez started to realize that his punches were causing enough damage to perhaps force an early stoppage.
Galindez picked up where he left off in the seventh, putting Kates immediately in trouble with a barrage of power punches. Hurt as he was, Galindez did not neglect his defense, bobbing and weaving in and out of danger as needed. Midway through the round, Kates went on a defensive shell as Galindez pounded on him from all angles. A relentless attack in a neutral corner saw Galindez connect what seemed to be a couple of dozen unanswered punches. A few well-placed uppercuts towards the end of the round sent Kates to the canvas, sliding off the corner padding. He got up just in time to receive yet another barrage of punches before the round ended.
In the eighth, Kates’ desperation became clear, as he rammed Galindez with his head during a clinch in the early going and then repeated the dose midway through the round before receiving a warning from the referee. Lectoure climbed onto the ring apron to complain about the accumulation of transgressions by the challenger.
Blood pours from his cut once again, but the imminent end of the fight inspires Galindez to neglect that problem in favor of a continuous stream of punches
The ninth was one of the champ’s best rounds, and it ended with a barrage of about 30 unanswered punches by Galindez. This may have been enough to stop the fight under any other circumstances, but the current ones dictated that no amount of pain or punishment seemed enough to stop a fight that, at this point, was pretty much defined by both.
Kates furthered the case for a stoppage when he staggered towards his corner at the end of the round. Determined to finish him off at any cost, Galindez turned his jab into a chocking hold with which he set Kates in position to punish him with his right hand, a maneuver that Christodoulou quickly convinced him to abandon in the early going of the 10th. With the bleeding under control during the first minute of each round, Galindez seized those early moments of each episode to pick his spots and connect with accuracy, leaving the wildest sweeping swings for the portion of the round in which he became half-blinded by his own blood.
In the 11th, after spending the previous round almost entirely in his own corner receiving a great amount of punishment, Kates revived the snappy jab and some of his mobility, but not for long. Galindez, after keeping the cut under control for a couple of rounds, had blood streaming down from it midway through the round. Sensing opportunity, Kates resumed his jab-based attack on the injury, keeping Galindez at bay and forcing him to clinch and wipe his blood off his eye with his glove.
The 12th started with Galindez taking a break from his offense and going on the retreat, backing away from Kates and trying to save some energy for the final stretch of the fight. Christodoulou checked his cut once again during the round, and the fight went on. Kates was warned about charging with his head in the early going of the 13th, and a low blow landed on Galindez on the 14th round as well, but Galindez did not complain. When a second and more clear low blow landed on him later in that round, Lectoure jumped back onto the ring apron to voice his discontent and ask for a disqualification in favor of the champion.
Galindez, however, chose to work on his karma instead of complaining, amicably touching gloves with Kates as if dismissing the seriousness of his infraction in exchange for one more chance to cap his gutsy performance in style.
Karma, finally, would win the day.
After a slow start, the 15th and final round brings a sound that had not been heard up to that point. From the bleachers down to the ringside seats, a loud chant begins to flow like water on a slope: “Víc-tor, Vic-tor!”. The roar of the crowd put the zip back on Galindez’s hands and the speed back on his legs as well, and he began to pummel Kates with a two-fisted attack from all angles. Blood pours from his cut once again, but the imminent end of the fight inspires Galindez to neglect that problem in favor of a continuous stream of punches, looking for a final statement to cement what he expected to be a decisive points win in his favor. A low blow by Kates goes unpunished, and one of his jabs clears out the thick layer of Vaseline covering Galindez’s cut.
As blood flows again from Galindez’s cut, and with only seconds to go in the fight, a left hook shakes Kates and forces him to clinch. Galindez breaks clean and lands an assortment of hooks and uppercuts. After breaking three or four consecutive clinches, Christodoulou steps back and Galindez rips Kates with an uppercut to set him up for a devastating sequence of punches.
With his right eye all but useless, Galindez launches three left hooks to Kates’ head in rapid succession, as if wanting to be able to witness what would prove the most memorable combination of his lifetime with his good eye and in full view. Those punches successively buckle, freeze and knock down Kates, placing him motionless on the canvas. The roar of the crowd forces Christodoulou to kneel down and shout the count on Kates’ face. As he does it, he briefly interrupts the proceeding to summon Galindez back into a neutral corner, to no avail. The Argentine champ is shouting each number as he jumps and pumps his fist into the air while Kates is counted out.
The ring is invaded again. This time, it is in celebration of a win that came all but three seconds before the end of the final round.
The exultant crowd leaves the stadium and Galindez is rushed to the hospital. The entourage is reduced to a small group of his closest associates: his doctor Roberto Paladino, Lectoure, and Ernesto Cherquis Bialo, dean of Argentine boxing writers.
As Galindez is set on a hospital bed and doctor Noble begins to insert the first of what would end up being 54 stitches on the gruesome cut, the trio of companions hold Galindez firmly in place as they prepare him for the most painful moment of the night.
As the thread follows the needle through his flesh, Galindez hears the news whispered in his ear: his idol, his sidekick, his sparring partner, his beloved friend and his mentor Oscar Bonavena had been shot to death by Willard Ross Brymer at the gates of the Mustang Ranch, four hours before the beginning of the fight. All the tears that Galindez didn’t shed in the ring are now in full display, as a deeper cut tears into his heart.
“I think that this fight puts him at a level that it will be difficult to topple,” said Marcelo Dominguez, a former cruiserweight titlist and one of Argentina’s most underrated former champions. “It will forever be remembered as one of the great heroic feats in the sport. When everything seemed impossible, he made it happen.”
Dominguez had his own “Galindez moment” when he survived a broken rib to halt the unbeaten streak of Russia’s Sergei Kobozev (who was, incidentally, a bodyguard who was murdered a few months later). Galindez himself would have another chance at surviving a horrific injury on his way to a win, when he fought Marvin Johnson for eight rounds with a broken jaw. It was not meant to be, though, as Galindez’s corner exercised more caution and stopped the fight – which proved to be Galindez’s second-to-last.
Galindez received a hero’s welcome in Argentina. He was greeted by thousands of fans on his way to the Luna Park, where his friend Ringo had had his funeral only a few hours earlier.
Three months after his last bout against Jesse Burnett in 1980, Galindez was the co-pilot of a race car he was planning to purchase from Antonio Lizeviche when the car broke down and was forced to pull over. As Galindez was returning to the pits on foot, another car veered off the track and hit him and Lizeviche at full speed, killing both of them instantly.
Galindez had his funeral at the Bonavena Funeral Home, a business that one of Ringo’s brothers had opened with the help of the fighter himself. Only after that, he was taken to the Luna Park for a final viewing before heading to his final resting place.
Both Galindez and Bonavena were survived by their respective mothers. They were both named Dominga.
“I still have the shirt I wore the night I refereed Victor Galindez’s battle with Richie Kates in Johannesburg in 1976,” says Stanley Christodoulou, in a chapter of his autobiography that is entirely dedicated to this fight, in which he also describes the process he used to preserve and frame that shirt, like a work of art. “It still represents what I love most about boxing – that never-say-die spirit that drives true champions on when the odds are stacked against them.”
In every chaotic and violent story painted in furious strokes of blood, sweat and tears there is a masterpiece waiting to reveal itself. There is always a kid leaving his family behind in pursuit of a big dream, there is more money to be spent and more miles to be traveled and more danger to be faced than they ever expected. And there is death at the end.
Somewhere in the middle, sometimes, lays something that cannot be destroyed.
Galindez vs Kates was one of my favorite fights of all-time, Galindez walked through fire that night, those who saw it can never forget it. The referee of that fight Stanley Christodoulou will certainly never forget it, he talks about it a lot in his autobiography, he still has the bloody shirt from that fight. The shirt is bloody because Galindez kept wiping his blood on it as he tried to clear the blood from his cut, and after clearing the blood he would go right back to hunting Kates. That fight made Galindez a legend, to be bleeding like that throughout the entire fight and fight through it and then stop Kates in the 15th round.
The fight program from Galindez vs Kates. Galindez always reminded me of a bull when he fought, he was this small but muscular, powerful guy, his opponents often looked like a matador trying to tame an angry bull. He would rough guys up pretty badly, you didn't want to be in there with him, he was like a caged animal that had just been released, and he was merciless and had brute strength.
One last word about Victor Galindez, loved watching him, he really epitomizes what this sport is about, and his nickname is very fitting because you have to be an animal to survive in this sport. You have to give beatings and take beatings and continue to fight back. There's nothing else like it, going back to the days of ancient Rome and the colosseum, boxers are the gladiators of our time.
Nicolino Locche, his record was 117- 4, this guy is another absolute legend in the sport, his nickname was "the untouchable", and he has that nickname for a reason, he's the greatest defensive fighter in history period. He was damn near impossible to hit cleanly. He used to stand there and taunt his opponents, knowing full well that they would struggle to lay a glove on him, he was born to avoid punches.
There's really no other way to put this, Nicolino Locche was a genius. To watch him fight is truly to watch a genius at work, he made guys look foolish in the ring. He didn't look the part, he was a short, balding man that chain smoked like a freight train, very unassuming, you would never know that he was a boxing magician. He did things in the ring that will never be seen again in this sport.
The Greatest Defensive Fighters Ever: Part Two–Nicolino Locche
The artist from Argentina
Dope on the Ropes
Boxing photographer George Kalinsky asked Angelo Dundee before Muhammad Ali’s famous “Rumble in the Jungle” match with George Foreman, “Why don’t you try something like that? Sort of a dope on the ropes, letting Foreman swing away but, like in the picture, hit nothing but air.” Dundee and Ali adopted the strategy, and in effectively applying it, made use of a term coined by John Condon as the “rope-a-dope”. Had Kalinsky been aware of lightweight/light-welterweight Nicolino Locche, he may have realized that the “rope-a-dope” had been in practice long before 1974.
Locche may have well utilized this strategy greater than any pugilist that came before or after. He was as comfortable leaning against the ropes as most people are popping a squat on their living room sofa. He reveled in the idea and practice of mocking a man foolish enough to pour on the aggression and let fly with gloved barrages, all while he made those ring strings his temporary home. Some of the best men of the day ripped, slashed, and tore into the Argentinian with honey badger-esque ferocity, but Locche was Whac-A-Mole incarnate, and he hit back. Oftentimes the languid looking Locche would lay down the welcome mat to would-be ring generals by backing himself up. This proposition was all too tempting to reject for the overwhelming majority of foes, but no matter who initiated, the result was nearly always the same.
Carlos Cappella, who was reported at the time as 28-6-2 (20 KO’s), experienced this first-hand. Locche did little more than play defense until the 7th round, where “Nicolino backed to the ropes, and let Cappella punch away, while Nicolino bobbed, weaved and ducked, while avoiding every incoming punch.” The same report later stated that “Cappella tried to make the fight, but missed with nearly every punch he threw,” eventually tiring because of it.
In a bout with Brazilian Sebastian Nascimento, then ranked 10th in the world by The Ring magazine, Locche led comfortably through twelve rounds for Nascimento’s South American Lightweight Championship, allowing but “a ‘single’ measly hard punch on the elusive challenger.”
In the last two segments, “Locche simply backed into the ropes, and let Sebastiao punch away, as Nicolino used his tight-shell defense to block or avoid nearly every punch the Brazilian could fire.”
Embarrassment wasn’t confined to the outer reaches of the squared circle, however. Nicolino had little issue performing similar acts of fistic defiance in the center of the ring, as the 15th round of his first bout with Cervantes aptly highlights. Locche, well in front on the scorecards against one of the greatest 140-pounds ever, dismissed any notion of danger by standing in range of the Colombian’s potent but exhausted jab, and made good use of his nickname, “El Intocable” (“The Untouchable”), by slipping shots with uncanny ease. At one point Locche looked to handcuff himself, putting both hands behind his back.
A similar fate had befallen Joe Brown, who battled Locche in August of 1963, in Buenos Aires. In front of a crowd of nearly 35,000, the hometown fighter “put on a fantastic show and out-slicked former World Lightweight Champion Joe ‘Old Bones’ Brown over 10 rounds. Locche easily handled the durable veteran during in-close exchanges, and surprisingly out-boxed Brown from the outside.”
But what better example can be used of Locche’s innate capacity to frustrate those who opposed him then when he snatched the light-welterweight crown from Takeshi Fuji, a pugnacious battler who threw everything with ill-intent. The Japanese pugilist spent the better part of nine rounds looking like rapper 50 Cent trying to hit the catcher’s mitt during the ceremonial first pitch at a Mets game. The third round was particularly telling. Fuji’s forceful blows whizzed past Locche with the utmost regularity; so much so that he stumbled on one occasion and fell to the canvass on another. The following rounds proceeded in much the same manner, only the Argentinian’s contortionist moves weren’t the only thing leaving a lasting imprint. Locche’s educated left hand scored often enough to close Fuji’s left eye and prompt a forfeit in the tenth. The bout was so lopsided that Locche seemed scarcely unaware that a boxing match had transpired, as a reporter approached him after the contest, inquiring his feelings on the fight. “What fight?” Locche retorted.
King
The defensive maestro did this all with an accompanying 50-a-day cigarette habit and was known to take the occasional puff in between rounds. In fact, many times whilst perched atop his stool, Locche’s corner would shield the act with their towel. Reason tells us that sort of nicotine routine isn’t conducive to good stamina or longevity. Of course reason also seems to indicate that a “balding, barrel-chested and thick shouldered” man who “resembled a slugger or the kind of beefy trialhorse” wouldn’t be as slick as owl grease either. But he was, and watching him in action means you can’t reason otherwise.
Unfortunately, Locche’s smoking caught up with him long after his opponents couldn’t, but he left a lasting imprint on those who saw him. Angelo Dundee, who worked with many past champions, spoke of Nicolino Locche at his Hall-of-Fame induction ceremony in 2003, stating, “I had the pleasure of watching Nicolino operate. He was slick, smart and played the ropes. He was like Willie Pep, meaning he could stand in one spot and you wouldn’t be able to hit him. He was a very smart fighter.”
Ray Arcel, another well-known trainer who was involved in the fight game from the 1910’s to the 1980’s, who saw everyone from Benny Leonard to Larry Holmes, honored Locche by proclaiming him the best defender he had ever seen.
Historian Mike Casey said of the Argentinian in his fantastic article “Wonderland: The Genius of Nicolino Locche” that, “Locche could blind an opponent with science in every way imaginable. His box of tricks was bottomless. He would bend forward from the waist, sometimes locking his gloves behind his back, stick his chin up in the air and cheekily invite uppercuts and slashing punches of despair that never struck him. The meaty, protruding head would gently tilt one way and then the other as the incoming missiles passed by and worked up a cool breeze.”
The praise, the timeless skill—it amounted to an amateur record of 122-5 and a professional one of 117-4-14, bringing his total to 239-9-14. You would be hard-pressed to find anyone post-1960 who finished with triple-digit wins and single-digit losses. You would be further troubled trying to find a more confident and clever practitioner of self-defense—such a shrewd, savvy bargainer of the fistic trade Locche was.
It made him wildly popular among the people, too, because he did it with charismatic flair and supreme confidence. It was unique and allowed him to perform in front of crowds in excess of 30,000. From maintaining conversations with ringside observers to psychological banter with his foes, they loved it; and on numerous occasions can one witness Locche’s back against the ropes, so at ease with his work that he barely makes an effort to safeguard himself, turn and gesture to someone in the stands. After victories they would let rip uproarious applause and chants of “Nicolino, Nicolino!” until Locche was saturated with affection—and they remained loyal until the end.
That end, at least to his career as a prizefighter, came in 1976. The conclusion to his life, 2005. A sad day it was, for Argentinians and boxing fans alike; but Locche left his earthly abode as a king. Not only as the king of his people, but with the crown he had snatched from Fuji in 1968. Locche’s belt had disappeared after the perfunctory victory and the WBA finally got around to sending him a new one weeks before his death. Attached to it was a letter from Gilberto Mendoza, then head of the WBA, which said:
“For us, it’s an honour to present you with this belt, which you won brilliantly. You are not only one of the great idols of Argentinian boxing, but one of the great champions in the history of world boxing. Accept our recognition through this belt. The king is not the king until he’s crowned.”
Hail King Locche. He now sits among the pantheon of defensive gods.
Nicolino Locche vs Antonio Cervantes 1. Antonio Cervantes aka "kid pambele" was a dangerous opponent, he could crack with both hands and left a trail of destruction in his career, here is a photo of Nicolino Locche taunting Cervantes, saying "you can't lay a glove on me." Locche won every round of their first encounter, he dominated Cervantes. I couldn't believe Locche had the balls to taunt him, Cervantes was a dangerous guy to be toying with, but Locche was that good, he baffled him defensively in their first encounter, he was brilliant. But Locche found out in the second encounter just how dangerous Cervantes was though, in their second fight Cervantes finally figured him out and stopped him, Locche had 136 fights in his career and Cervantes was one of only four people to beat him. But this photo is epic, to toy with a guy like Cervantes is just unbelievable, Locche was great.
Nicolino Locche may have had the look of a middle aged suburban dad, but his output and defensive genius in the ring was on a parallel with the likes of Willie Pep and Muhammad Ali. Those who stereotyped his looks would always have a rude awakening as he stood inches from them, pulling them apart, piece by piece, both mentally and physically. On so many levels, he really was untouchable
Anyway, Nicolino Locche really did change the sport of boxing, a lot of defensive fighters over the years have learned by studying film of him, there will never be another one like him, he was a genius.
This documentary about Nicolino Locche was supposed to be released, don't think it ever was.
The Untouchable is a true story about the incredible life of a man who reinvented the sport of boxing with his unique style and showmanship in the ring, set against Argentina's darkest and bloodiest Dictatorship. Early on, Nicolino Locche's non-violent nature forced him to develop a unique and novel defensive boxing style despised by everyone. He would bend forward from the waist, face unguarded, inviting uppercuts and punches of despair that never struck him. Locche would tease, mock and rattle his opponents, while making jokes with the audience and taking smoking breaks in between rounds. But his magic in the ring was larger than life, conquering the hearts of millions of fans. Due to his defensive mastery, he is baptized "The Untouchable." His life will be nothing more than the faithful reflection of a history full of human battles, disappointments, spectacular triumphs, and excesses of all kinds. As he dodges punches in the ring, life hits him hard. A humble man who hated violence, barely hit opponents, and hardly trained, rises to the top and becomes World Champion in one of the most violent sports. At the end, he loses everything he ever loved and is too late to realize it. In the process, he becomes a legend to the world of boxing and the greatest entertainer the sport has ever seen.
Ricardo "finito" Lopez, straw weight, light flyweight. He was one of the most dominant boxers in the history of the sport, he was never defeated, he retired with a record of 51-0-1, the lone blemish on his record was a draw with Rosendo Alvarez, he avenged that blemish when he beat Alvarez in the rematch. He was a relentless boxer-puncher with a killer instinct, he could do it all, he was a superb ring technician and he had knockout power. He could also rip vicious shots to the body, he reigned as world champion for over a decade.
Ricardo “Finito” Lopez: Remembering a True Legend
Boxing is Mexico’s most successful sport, having produced over 100 world champions and 12 Olympic gold medalists. Of all those great fighters there is one man that is considered by many experts as one of the greatest fighters ever to lace up a pair of gloves. That man is none other than Ricardo “Finito” Lopez Vera.
Although he was as successful in the ring as countryman Julio Cesar Chavez Sr., he was never given the same level of popularity for the simple reason that he fought at the Minimumweight division of 103 lbs., a division that not many are aware of. Regardless it was impossible to ignore the skills, knockout power, ring intelligence and undefeated record that Lopez had during a truly great 16-year career
Lopez first fell in love with boxing by watching fights on television with his dad on Saturday nights. Such fighters as Jose “Mantequilla” Napoles and images of red globes, bloody faces and one man being able to hit another without getting hit back was something that fascinated Lopez. Those became the men he aspired to be like.
He was seven years old the first time he ever walked into a boxing gym and minutes later, after seeing a sparring session, he approached a trainer wrapping another kid’s hands and demanded to fight him. That became his first time stepping into a boxing ring. From that day on boxing became his passion and he did everything he could to achieve his ultimate goal of becoming a world champion. He even drank five raw eggs to imitate Rocky Balboa from the popular Rocky movies of that time.
Lopez’s first big stage fight was at the 1981 Mexican Golden Globes in which he won the Gold Medal and followed it by winning four more consecutive Golden Globes titles. He then got the opportunity to be managed by legendary boxing manager Cullo Hernandez, who played a major part in the success of his entrance into the pros.
Lopez would go on to win his first world title in Japan on October 25, 1991 after beating Hideyuki Ohashi for the WBC Minimumweight Title. That same year Hernandez passed away and Lopez would be the last champion he would ever manage, a good note to end a legendary career and jump start another amazing one. Lopez would be left in the hands of respected trainer Ignacio Beristáin.
It is usually said that “It's hard getting to the top, but it's even harder to stay on it” and Lopez made sure to stay on top by having 22 title defences against strong opposition. Of all his title defences Lopez’s most competitive fight was his first bout against Rosendo Alvarez, in which, for the first time, he didn’t see his hands being raised. The fight was a draw and the closest one of Finito’s career. He would rematch Alvarez in Las Vegas eight months later and win with an outstanding performance.
In 1999, at the age of 33 and towards the end of his career, Lopez would make a small jump into the 108 flyweight division, in which he defeated Will Grigsby for the IBF title. He would go on to fight two more times and ended his career with a knockout win over Zolani Petelo. Lopez retired with a perfect professional record of 51 wins (KO 38) and zero losses—a record that can truly be defined as one of the greatest in boxing.
Lopez's career is not just impressive because he retired undefeated. That's obviously a great part of it, but most people remember him for his dedication to the sport of boxing, his discipline in the ring, the quality and beauty of his skills, the many title defences he had and the great combination of punching power and technical excellence he had in the ring—hence his nickname “Finito,” meaning "Finest.”
Unlike many all-time greats in the sport of boxing, Lopez’s career ended on a good note, and most importantly his reputation continues to this day. Now at the age of 45 he enjoys the benefits of his hard work and the admiration of his many fans. Lopez was a one-of-a-kind boxer and one that many young fighters should look to for inspiration.
Ricardo Lopez really was technical perfection in the ring, to watch him fight is to watch a master at work. His punches were deadly accurate, sharp, he had every tool in his arsenal. He took the boxing life serious too, no drugs, intense training, he was a gym rat, and it paid off in the ring. Pretty much all of his fights were a masterclass in the art of boxing.
His two toughest fights were against Rosendo Alvarez at the tail end of his career, the first one ended in a draw. The rematch saw Lopez suffer a nasty cut from an accidental bump of heads, but Lopez fought through the blood and soundly outboxed Alvarez. He really showed what he was made of in that second fight.
Lopez's technical brilliance was really on full display in his second fight against Rosendo Alvarez, which was his toughest fight. He really had to pull out all the stops and use his entire arsenal against Alvarez, who was a tough as nails opponent. What it amounts to is a great display of textbook boxing at it's finest.
One last thing about Ricardo "El finito"Lopez, he was trained by Ignacio "nacho" Beritain, one of the greatest trainers in boxing history, just look at this list of fighters he trained, some all-time greats in this list.
Herol "bomber" Graham. Most people remember him for having been knocked out by Julian "the hawk" Jackson, but Herol Graham was one heck of a fighter and a defensive guru, he knew how to make guys miss and then make them pay. Prince Naseem Hamed actually idolized Herol Graham and Hamed implemented a lot of Graham's defensive wizardry into his own style. Herol Graham is a very respected legend in the sport, Ring magazine caught up with Herol Graham and interviewed him about the best he faced.
BEST I FACED: HEROL GRAHAM
He was perhaps the best British fighter never to win a world title. Herol Graham has heard that remark so many times that he could be forgiven for being a little nauseous but, kind and pleasant to a fault, he only sees the good within the bitter sweet depiction.
“It means a lot to me,” said Graham without a hint of pretense. “I didn’t win a world title but I came mighty close and I’m respected within the sport. In the build up to a championship fight something always seemed to happen, whether it was girl trouble, or trouble in training camp.
“In the end, it just wasn’t meant to be.”
When it comes to defensive boxing, certain fighters have the knack of intuitive improvisation. Willie Pep, Pernell Whitaker and Wilfredo Benitez were all professional escape artists, whereas today “The Invisible Man” is played to perfection by pound for pound hotshot, Floyd Mayweather.
Well in Britain, during the 80s and into the 90s, the supreme U.K. defender was Herol “Bomber” Graham.
As a teenager he confidently strutted into The Wincobank Gym in Sheffield, England but could never have imagined his finesse splashed style would become lifeblood for a myriad of British fighters and, although retired for almost 16 years, he is still emulated to this day.
Prince Naseem Hamed, Johnny Nelson and Junior Witter were all world titlists who borrowed heavily from Graham. The wide side-on stance and low guard was blended with lightning reflexes and the ability to pull back from multi-punch assaults without losing balance.
“It’s great because I remember it so well,” said Graham. “When I came along the kids were boxing like old timers with their hands up, which wasn’t for me. When I sparred my hands were low and I was always moving, which nobody could really understand. They were all looking at one another like I was crazy.
“Anyway within two weeks they were all copying that style and then Naz came along, utilized it and began adding his own attributes. Still, the snake like bending at the waist was what all the fighters copied and it’s great to have been such a popular influence.”
Graham annexed British, Commonwealth and European titles at 154 and 160 pounds, but could never win the big one. In 1989 he lost a split decision to a peak Mike McCallum in a WBA title bout and a year later was schooling Julian Jackson, prior to being nailed by a made-in-hell knockout punch in the fourth.
Jackson’s right hand spoke only once and Graham was out cold.
Graham goes after then-IBF 168-pound titleholder Charles Brewer. Photo by Jed Jacobsohn
The Bomber’s final fight came in March 1998 against American power puncher Charles Brewer and once again he performed brilliantly. The IBF super middleweight title was on the line but, at 38 years of age, the fading veteran could not make the finish line and lost by stoppage in the 10th.
He was always so close and agonizingly so.
In later years Graham battled depression but has emerged from the darkness to enjoy a great family life. His biography, Bomber: Behind the Laughter, was received extremely well last year and the former world title challenger was glad to shed the stereotypical tough guy image.
“There was a sense of relief in disclosing my depression and it put people’s expectations into perspective,” said Graham. “Of course I’m a man, but men cry sometimes, don’t they? Men have problems and battle depression and a lot of people were glad that I touched on that.
“My book helped raise awareness of depression and its link to boxing. Fighters should have someone to speak to when their careers come to an end. Sometimes they do, but sometimes they don’t and once you fall into despair it’s very difficult to pull yourself back out.”
Graham still follows boxing and is interested in training full time, but this reporter was keen to know if it’s possible to teach the natural skills he possessed.
“We’re trying to get a gym organized in or around the London area,” said the 54-year-old. “I’ll be coaching and I think I have plenty to offer. I see trainers tell fighters to twist their wrists as they throw shots and that is just wasting time, when speed is of the essence.
“The faster I punch the quicker I hit you, right? Still, I wouldn’t force anyone to learn my style and if they just want taught boxing fundamentals then that’s fine by me – as long as they win.”
The Ring spoke to one of the finest British middleweights of the modern era about the opponents he encountered during a distinguished and memorable career.
BEST JAB
Nobody bothered me with the jab. I expected a great jab from Mike McCallum, but his didn’t trouble me at all. He was forced to hustle and bustle with me, because boxing wasn’t working for him.
BEST DEFENSE
Sumbu Kalambay: Maybe Kalambay, but there wasn’t anyone who really excelled defensively. Even McCallum wasn’t difficult to hit, and although Kalambay was a big puncher with long arms, he was still findable. That said I didn’t hit him as often as I wanted to, so Kalambay edges it.
FASTEST HANDS
Vinny Pazienza: For the most part my hand speed was superior, so it’s difficult to think of someone who troubled me. You could say Vinny Pazienza had the quickest hands but he couldn’t hit me with anything. It was funny because after that fight Pazienza told me that I didn’t touch him. I said, “What about the marks all over your face, Vinny? There’s blood coming from your eye and you have swollen lips, but I didn’t touch you?” He was going on like I didn’t win the fight (laughs). He did have quick hands because he was short limbed and exploded on the inside, but his style was easy to box against.
BEST FOOTWORK
Nobody, come on now, don’t mess about (laughs)! I kept it long and my stance was wide, so I leaned back out the way. The suspension of a bridge is long, is it not? If I wanted distance then I created it, so nobody was able to counter me in terms of footwork – nobody.
SMARTEST
Sumbu Kalambay or Mike McCallum: Both of them were smart technicians who made you think, but I pushed both of them all the way.
STRONGEST
Sanderline Williams: Williams in 1985. I remember him because he wore army trunks, but more so because his shots seemed to go right through me. I really had to move that night, because he hit so hard. I would still give punch power to Julian Jackson though. I have to because he knocked me out.
BEST CHIN
Charles Brewer: Well I can’t say me for this one because I got knocked out (laughs). It’s got to be Charles “The Hatchet” Brewer. I got him down twice, but couldn’t finish and he ended up stopping me. The fight was in Atlantic City, on the undercard of Lennox Lewis versus Shannon Briggs.
BEST PUNCHER
Julian Jackson: The best puncher was Julian Jackson, come on, please. I don’t even have to think when it comes to that question. One shot and I was gone and it came just after the referee was going to stop the fight in my favor. I made the mistake of going for a sucker punch, when he was in the corner, and Jackson responded with a knockout punch. I had to go to the hospital and there were some scary moments because I couldn’t remember a thing about the fight. Three or four hours later it all came back to me and that was a really powerful right hand shot. There were a lot of broken hearts in Britain that night, especially mine. Another extremely hard puncher was Lindell Holmes, who I outpointed in Sheffield, but nobody tops Jackson.
BEST SKILLS
Sumbu Kalambay: Kalambay for the European middleweight title. It was a very close fight, but he caught me with a big punch and I slid across the ropes. I have to give him that, it was a great shot, and that probably took the fight away from me, if I’m being honest. He was a quality opponent, who won and lost a fight with Mike McCallum after that.
BEST OVERALL:
Mike McCallum: I thought I beat him. He tried to dictate the pace and I could see that, so I changed the tempo and did my thing. I boxed, frustrated him with my movement and, although he scored points by applying pressure, nothing was landing. The judges scored aggression but it wasn’t effective aggression. This was The Body Snatcher, right? Watch the fight and you’ll see – he couldn’t touch me to the body. It was a great experience and he was a great fighter, but he couldn’t get off the shots that he wanted to get off. I was perhaps guilty of not throwing enough back, but I thought I earned the decision.
Love this photo of Herol Graham, it epitomizes what he was about, hit and not be hit, Graham makes his opponent miss and at the same time Graham connects with a left of his own, Graham was slick.
Comments
Edwin Rosario, murderous puncher.
Victor "the animal" Galindez, light heavyweight. He didn't get the nickname "the animal" for nothing, he was one rough customer. He was a short (5'10") heavily muscled guy, who liked to brawl or counterpunch. Basically, Galindez would hold back, rattling his fists but not attempting much. He'd let the other man lead, then he'd counterpunch with heavy hooks to the head or jaw. Whenever possible, Galindez would open up with furious combos of hooks and uppercuts. On the inside, Galindez would really rough guys up in the trenches. Another favored Galindez tactic was to lay back on the ropes, draw his opponent in, then throw powerful counterpunches.
Most of all, Galindez had superb durability and stamina. He could take a heavy shot, engage in wars, and storm back during the final five rounds to win. Galindez tended to beat his opponents down over the stretch. Most of all, he was the kind of guy that you had to kill to beat, he was willing to spill every last drop of blood he had, a real savage.
If you want to know what kind of man and fighter Victor Galindez was, May 22nd, 1976, Victor Galindez vs Richie Kates. On this night, Victor Galindez defended his light heavyweight title against Richie Kates in one of the most blood soaked and violent battles in boxing history, Galindez had a PhD in badassery.
BLOOD, SWEAT, TEARS AND DEATH – VICTOR GALINDEZ VS. RICHIE KATES 45 YEARS LATER
For every fighter that climbs through the ropes, there is a story painted in furious strokes of blood, sweat and tears. There is always a kid leaving his family behind in pursuit of a big dream in a big city, there is a mentor who takes him under his wing, there is an idol he admires and tries to imitate. There is money, there are all the good things that money brings. There is, inevitably, pain. There are perilous travels, there are unknown dangers, there are unsurmountable odds and fearful enemies, and there are all the good things that they destroy.
Victor Galindez was born in 1948 as one of 10 siblings in a family of farmhands in Vedia, a town lost somewhere in the Argentine Pampas. He found his way to Buenos Aires in his teens. Soon enough, the dream of becoming a professional prizefighter toppled every other ambition he brought with him, and he gradually found his way to the fabled Luna Park Stadium, which included a gym in which some of the best fighters in South America trained daily. One of them happened to be one of his heroes, and will soon become his friend and his inspiration.
His name was Oscar Bonavena, but he had become a national celebrity under his nickname: “Ringo.” He even had his own TV show, which was nothing but a live broadcast of his family’s Sunday lunch, where his mother Dominga would cook her famous homemade ravioli for everyone in their house in the neighborhood of Parque Patricios. Occasionally, Ringo would sing corky songs with a pop band on TV, or act as juror in beauty pageants. He shattered every TV audience record in the country when he faced Muhammad Ali in 1970 and had managed to cram over 25,000 people at Luna Park for his bout against Gregorio Peralta. He was every man’s hero and every woman’s guilty crush.
Richie Kates was born in 1953 as one of 11 siblings in a family of farmhands in Savanah, Georgia. Soon enough, he relocated to New Jersey. In his teens, boxing found him and inspired him to devote himself to the discipline that school had failed to instill in him. He lied about his age to make his professional debut in December 1969, only six months after Galindez had made his debut some 5200 miles south in Argentina.
Pierre Fourie was born in 1943 and became a professional boxer 20 years later. A popular fighter with an active and profitable career, he routinely gathered large crowds in his native South Africa. In 1975, he summoned two of the largest live attendances of his career for two unsuccessful attempts at the world light heavyweight title in the hands of Galindez, and capped the year with a loss to Kates. In 1976, his promoters Maurice and Allan Toweel decided that bringing Galindez and Kates back to South Africa for what would be only the second title fight among foreigners in the country’s history would be a great idea.
Twenty days before traveling to South Africa as part of Galindez’s corner, Argentine manager-promoter Tito Lectoure had his former junior welterweight champion Nicolino Locche fighting at the Luna Park Stadium against Houston’s Lorenzo Trujillo.
After the fight, Lectoure claims, Trujillo’s trainer (whose name has been lost in the sands of time) made an unprompted approach to the Hall of Fame promoter with an unusual suggestion.
“Take this,” he said, handing Lectoure an unmarked container filled with an unnamed unguent or ointment. “One of our guys is fighting Richie Kates soon, and he uses his head a lot. You’ll need this”.
One week after coming home to his trailer located within the sprawling 166-acre complex of the Mustang Ranch Brothel only to find the smoldering ashes of what were once his clothes and his passport, Ringo Bonavena was mulling his options at a hotel bar in downtown Reno, Nevada. A fight was being proposed to him, in New York. But he had a different trip in mind. May 23 was his wife’s birthday, and he intended to be in Buenos Aires with her, and perhaps never return stateside again. Even though this would mean leaving, among other things, his other wife behind.
A more detailed explanation is in order.
Bonavena, employed as a host by the Mustang Ranch and under contract as a fighter for the joint’s owner Joe Conforte, had been forced to marry one of the ladies in the stable of “courtesans” (one Cheryl Ann Rebideaux) in order to expedite his immigration papers. A marriage of convenience, yes, with the added inconvenience of Bonavena’s yet unresolved marital situation in Argentina. As well as the not-so-minor inconvenience in the fact that Rebideaux was the romantic partner of Mustang Ranch security guard Willard Ross Brymer.
To top it all off, “Ringo” was at odds with Conforte over his unwillingness to fight again at the extravagant fight cards he held in his property. Add Ringo’s extra-cozy relationship with Conforte’s sexagenarian wife Sally to the mix, and the stage was set for Bonavena to square off against forces he had never envisioned, even as a former opponent of some of the most murderous punchers that the heavyweight division had ever produced.
As the sun rose over the “biggest little city in the world”, Bonavena left the lounge of the hotel to grab his suitcase from his trailer and then board a plane to fly back home.
The brown Montecarlo coupe he drove to arrive at the gates of the Mustang Ranch, however, would be the last vehicle he would ever board.
On the other side of the world, the sun was already beginning to fade. In the late afternoon of May 22 in Johannesburg, South Africa, Galindez and Kates had already hit the scales in their same-day weigh-in, and were ready to fight in the chilly outdoors of the Rand Stadium under the auspices of Toweel’s Springbok Promotions.
On any other occasion, the toughest part of the event would have been left behind for Galindez, who was notorious for his weight issues. As a poor kid growing up in a large family in a small country town in Argentina, a bottle of cold Coca Cola was one of his childhood’s most cherished treats, and as he grew up he became addicted to carbonated beverages. The weigh-in, the “round zero” of every fight, then, became one of the toughest ones throughout his career. The sacrifice, he thought as he stepped down from the scales, is over. But the night was young, indeed.
So busy was Galindez gushing down his favorite post-weigh-in beverage and rejoicing in having complied with this tortuous ritual, that he probably didn’t notice the murmurs being whispered around his entourage, comprised of about a dozen compatriots including doctors, seconds, family members and “embedded journalists” who moved with him wherever he went.
The impending bout, however, required all of his attention. And sweating off the excess weight will soon be the least of his concerns.
Rounds one and two came and went. Kates had quickly established his jab, lunging forward with his head after the jab without following up with a proper punch. The combination (of movements, if not of punches) would become a problem as the fight progressed, but for now it worked for Kates, who managed to stay away from Galindez’s inside game. The champion rolled with the punches and connected a few pull-counter hooks and crosses.
The third round, however, is where the fight unraveled beyond anyone’s wildest dreams.
After a glancing head butt by Kates, Galindez grimaced in pain and covered his right eye as he retreated towards his corner. A T-shaped cut had been cracked open by the accidental clash of heads, and blood was spurting out of it in unstoppable quantities.
Confusion reigned. Some 20 people jumped into the ring, including photographers and a few journalists. Kates retreated to his corner and was covered in towels to stay warm as the official decision was announced. In Galindez’s corner, ringside doctor Clive Noble diligently checked the wound, arguing that although it was deep and bloody, it was not an impairing injury.
Galindez’s horrific wound and warrior spirit immortalized in this street art. Photo courtesy of Matías-Danna A.K.A. La-Brea-www.instagram.comlabrea.ko-02.
With this in mind, local referee Stanley Christodoulou, in what was only the second world title fight of his career, displayed a remarkable calmness in invoking, for the first time in history, the use of the no-foul rule for an accidental cut. “In those years, a period of five minutes’ recovery was used for low blows as well as cuts,” said Christodoulou. “However, under the prevailing South African Rules, the fight would have been stopped.”
The announcer was already on the canvas with his microphone in hand, but instead of announcing the end of the bout he cleared the ring for the fight to resume, with the caveat that if the fight had to be stopped due to the severity of the cut later in the evening, Galindez would lose the bout.
Allowing his fighter to continue and facing those odds while suffering a potentially extraordinary blood loss and the debilitating pain that goes with it placed an unimaginable burden on the champion and his corner, but this was the kind of maverick move that Lectoure would become famous for. He patted his own pockets in search of the magic nameless ointment. Making a blind bet on a substance that could have been anything from harmful to magical, from poisonous to miraculous or even simply illegal, Lectoure nodded his approval to the referee. The fight was back on. Christodoulou motioned the fighters to the center of the ring, just a few seconds shy of the maximum five minutes allowed by the no-foul rule.
Galindez’s remarkable comeback began to take shape in the fourth round. Throwing bombs with both hands at an impossibly close distance from his target, Galindez stood right in Kates’ face while launching a demolishing attack. His caution-to-the-wind approach left him open for a few serious uppercuts by Kates, but a pattern had been established that would last for the foreseeable future: Galindez would charge towards Kates like a wounded animal, and Kates would continue waiting for a mistake or an opening that rarely surfaced.
Galindez began shaking his head trying to spray off the blood gushing through his sliced eyebrow. Also at around that time, Galindez began using Christodoulou’s shirt as his own personal face towel, clinching Kates until the referee came to separate them, and then wiping his face clean on his shirt.
The fifth round was a no-jabs, all-you-can-eat power punch buffet from Galindez. He let go his hands like his life depended on it, and managed to sneak in a low blow just as a measure of revenge against Kates, who returned the favor later in the round.
By the sixth round, Christodoulou’s shirt was already an essential stage prop in the gory tragedy that the fight was becoming. Just as in the sixth station of the Via Crucis, Christodoulou’s sleeves turned into the veil with which Veronica wiped the bloodied face of Jesus on his way to Mount Calvary. The second half of the round was a full-on slugfest, as Galindez started to realize that his punches were causing enough damage to perhaps force an early stoppage.
Galindez picked up where he left off in the seventh, putting Kates immediately in trouble with a barrage of power punches. Hurt as he was, Galindez did not neglect his defense, bobbing and weaving in and out of danger as needed. Midway through the round, Kates went on a defensive shell as Galindez pounded on him from all angles. A relentless attack in a neutral corner saw Galindez connect what seemed to be a couple of dozen unanswered punches. A few well-placed uppercuts towards the end of the round sent Kates to the canvas, sliding off the corner padding. He got up just in time to receive yet another barrage of punches before the round ended.
In the eighth, Kates’ desperation became clear, as he rammed Galindez with his head during a clinch in the early going and then repeated the dose midway through the round before receiving a warning from the referee. Lectoure climbed onto the ring apron to complain about the accumulation of transgressions by the challenger.
Blood pours from his cut once again, but the imminent end of the fight inspires Galindez to neglect that problem in favor of a continuous stream of punches
The ninth was one of the champ’s best rounds, and it ended with a barrage of about 30 unanswered punches by Galindez. This may have been enough to stop the fight under any other circumstances, but the current ones dictated that no amount of pain or punishment seemed enough to stop a fight that, at this point, was pretty much defined by both.
Kates furthered the case for a stoppage when he staggered towards his corner at the end of the round. Determined to finish him off at any cost, Galindez turned his jab into a chocking hold with which he set Kates in position to punish him with his right hand, a maneuver that Christodoulou quickly convinced him to abandon in the early going of the 10th. With the bleeding under control during the first minute of each round, Galindez seized those early moments of each episode to pick his spots and connect with accuracy, leaving the wildest sweeping swings for the portion of the round in which he became half-blinded by his own blood.
In the 11th, after spending the previous round almost entirely in his own corner receiving a great amount of punishment, Kates revived the snappy jab and some of his mobility, but not for long. Galindez, after keeping the cut under control for a couple of rounds, had blood streaming down from it midway through the round. Sensing opportunity, Kates resumed his jab-based attack on the injury, keeping Galindez at bay and forcing him to clinch and wipe his blood off his eye with his glove.
The 12th started with Galindez taking a break from his offense and going on the retreat, backing away from Kates and trying to save some energy for the final stretch of the fight. Christodoulou checked his cut once again during the round, and the fight went on. Kates was warned about charging with his head in the early going of the 13th, and a low blow landed on Galindez on the 14th round as well, but Galindez did not complain. When a second and more clear low blow landed on him later in that round, Lectoure jumped back onto the ring apron to voice his discontent and ask for a disqualification in favor of the champion.
Galindez, however, chose to work on his karma instead of complaining, amicably touching gloves with Kates as if dismissing the seriousness of his infraction in exchange for one more chance to cap his gutsy performance in style.
Karma, finally, would win the day.
After a slow start, the 15th and final round brings a sound that had not been heard up to that point. From the bleachers down to the ringside seats, a loud chant begins to flow like water on a slope: “Víc-tor, Vic-tor!”. The roar of the crowd put the zip back on Galindez’s hands and the speed back on his legs as well, and he began to pummel Kates with a two-fisted attack from all angles. Blood pours from his cut once again, but the imminent end of the fight inspires Galindez to neglect that problem in favor of a continuous stream of punches, looking for a final statement to cement what he expected to be a decisive points win in his favor. A low blow by Kates goes unpunished, and one of his jabs clears out the thick layer of Vaseline covering Galindez’s cut.
As blood flows again from Galindez’s cut, and with only seconds to go in the fight, a left hook shakes Kates and forces him to clinch. Galindez breaks clean and lands an assortment of hooks and uppercuts. After breaking three or four consecutive clinches, Christodoulou steps back and Galindez rips Kates with an uppercut to set him up for a devastating sequence of punches.
With his right eye all but useless, Galindez launches three left hooks to Kates’ head in rapid succession, as if wanting to be able to witness what would prove the most memorable combination of his lifetime with his good eye and in full view. Those punches successively buckle, freeze and knock down Kates, placing him motionless on the canvas. The roar of the crowd forces Christodoulou to kneel down and shout the count on Kates’ face. As he does it, he briefly interrupts the proceeding to summon Galindez back into a neutral corner, to no avail. The Argentine champ is shouting each number as he jumps and pumps his fist into the air while Kates is counted out.
The ring is invaded again. This time, it is in celebration of a win that came all but three seconds before the end of the final round.
The exultant crowd leaves the stadium and Galindez is rushed to the hospital. The entourage is reduced to a small group of his closest associates: his doctor Roberto Paladino, Lectoure, and Ernesto Cherquis Bialo, dean of Argentine boxing writers.
As Galindez is set on a hospital bed and doctor Noble begins to insert the first of what would end up being 54 stitches on the gruesome cut, the trio of companions hold Galindez firmly in place as they prepare him for the most painful moment of the night.
As the thread follows the needle through his flesh, Galindez hears the news whispered in his ear: his idol, his sidekick, his sparring partner, his beloved friend and his mentor Oscar Bonavena had been shot to death by Willard Ross Brymer at the gates of the Mustang Ranch, four hours before the beginning of the fight. All the tears that Galindez didn’t shed in the ring are now in full display, as a deeper cut tears into his heart.
“I think that this fight puts him at a level that it will be difficult to topple,” said Marcelo Dominguez, a former cruiserweight titlist and one of Argentina’s most underrated former champions. “It will forever be remembered as one of the great heroic feats in the sport. When everything seemed impossible, he made it happen.”
Dominguez had his own “Galindez moment” when he survived a broken rib to halt the unbeaten streak of Russia’s Sergei Kobozev (who was, incidentally, a bodyguard who was murdered a few months later). Galindez himself would have another chance at surviving a horrific injury on his way to a win, when he fought Marvin Johnson for eight rounds with a broken jaw. It was not meant to be, though, as Galindez’s corner exercised more caution and stopped the fight – which proved to be Galindez’s second-to-last.
Galindez received a hero’s welcome in Argentina. He was greeted by thousands of fans on his way to the Luna Park, where his friend Ringo had had his funeral only a few hours earlier.
Three months after his last bout against Jesse Burnett in 1980, Galindez was the co-pilot of a race car he was planning to purchase from Antonio Lizeviche when the car broke down and was forced to pull over. As Galindez was returning to the pits on foot, another car veered off the track and hit him and Lizeviche at full speed, killing both of them instantly.
Galindez had his funeral at the Bonavena Funeral Home, a business that one of Ringo’s brothers had opened with the help of the fighter himself. Only after that, he was taken to the Luna Park for a final viewing before heading to his final resting place.
Both Galindez and Bonavena were survived by their respective mothers. They were both named Dominga.
“I still have the shirt I wore the night I refereed Victor Galindez’s battle with Richie Kates in Johannesburg in 1976,” says Stanley Christodoulou, in a chapter of his autobiography that is entirely dedicated to this fight, in which he also describes the process he used to preserve and frame that shirt, like a work of art. “It still represents what I love most about boxing – that never-say-die spirit that drives true champions on when the odds are stacked against them.”
In every chaotic and violent story painted in furious strokes of blood, sweat and tears there is a masterpiece waiting to reveal itself. There is always a kid leaving his family behind in pursuit of a big dream, there is more money to be spent and more miles to be traveled and more danger to be faced than they ever expected. And there is death at the end.
Somewhere in the middle, sometimes, lays something that cannot be destroyed.
Galindez vs Kates was one of my favorite fights of all-time, Galindez walked through fire that night, those who saw it can never forget it. The referee of that fight Stanley Christodoulou will certainly never forget it, he talks about it a lot in his autobiography, he still has the bloody shirt from that fight. The shirt is bloody because Galindez kept wiping his blood on it as he tried to clear the blood from his cut, and after clearing the blood he would go right back to hunting Kates. That fight made Galindez a legend, to be bleeding like that throughout the entire fight and fight through it and then stop Kates in the 15th round.
The fight program from Galindez vs Kates. Galindez always reminded me of a bull when he fought, he was this small but muscular, powerful guy, his opponents often looked like a matador trying to tame an angry bull. He would rough guys up pretty badly, you didn't want to be in there with him, he was like a caged animal that had just been released, and he was merciless and had brute strength.
Galindez vs Kates.
Galindez's cut man works on him during the fight.
Galindez stops Kates in round 15 with just :01second to go in the fight, putting an end to one of the bloodiest wars in boxing history
Galindez celebrates after the fight before going to the hospital.
Victor Galindez is an icon in Argentina, they made a stamp with his image from the Kates fight, he appears on the stamp covered in blood.
One last word about Victor Galindez, loved watching him, he really epitomizes what this sport is about, and his nickname is very fitting because you have to be an animal to survive in this sport. You have to give beatings and take beatings and continue to fight back. There's nothing else like it, going back to the days of ancient Rome and the colosseum, boxers are the gladiators of our time.
Victor "the animal" Galindez in his prime, bada..
Nicolino Locche, his record was 117- 4, this guy is another absolute legend in the sport, his nickname was "the untouchable", and he has that nickname for a reason, he's the greatest defensive fighter in history period. He was damn near impossible to hit cleanly. He used to stand there and taunt his opponents, knowing full well that they would struggle to lay a glove on him, he was born to avoid punches.
There's really no other way to put this, Nicolino Locche was a genius. To watch him fight is truly to watch a genius at work, he made guys look foolish in the ring. He didn't look the part, he was a short, balding man that chain smoked like a freight train, very unassuming, you would never know that he was a boxing magician. He did things in the ring that will never be seen again in this sport.
The Greatest Defensive Fighters Ever: Part Two–Nicolino Locche
The artist from Argentina
Dope on the Ropes
Boxing photographer George Kalinsky asked Angelo Dundee before Muhammad Ali’s famous “Rumble in the Jungle” match with George Foreman, “Why don’t you try something like that? Sort of a dope on the ropes, letting Foreman swing away but, like in the picture, hit nothing but air.” Dundee and Ali adopted the strategy, and in effectively applying it, made use of a term coined by John Condon as the “rope-a-dope”. Had Kalinsky been aware of lightweight/light-welterweight Nicolino Locche, he may have realized that the “rope-a-dope” had been in practice long before 1974.
Locche may have well utilized this strategy greater than any pugilist that came before or after. He was as comfortable leaning against the ropes as most people are popping a squat on their living room sofa. He reveled in the idea and practice of mocking a man foolish enough to pour on the aggression and let fly with gloved barrages, all while he made those ring strings his temporary home. Some of the best men of the day ripped, slashed, and tore into the Argentinian with honey badger-esque ferocity, but Locche was Whac-A-Mole incarnate, and he hit back. Oftentimes the languid looking Locche would lay down the welcome mat to would-be ring generals by backing himself up. This proposition was all too tempting to reject for the overwhelming majority of foes, but no matter who initiated, the result was nearly always the same.
Carlos Cappella, who was reported at the time as 28-6-2 (20 KO’s), experienced this first-hand. Locche did little more than play defense until the 7th round, where “Nicolino backed to the ropes, and let Cappella punch away, while Nicolino bobbed, weaved and ducked, while avoiding every incoming punch.” The same report later stated that “Cappella tried to make the fight, but missed with nearly every punch he threw,” eventually tiring because of it.
In a bout with Brazilian Sebastian Nascimento, then ranked 10th in the world by The Ring magazine, Locche led comfortably through twelve rounds for Nascimento’s South American Lightweight Championship, allowing but “a ‘single’ measly hard punch on the elusive challenger.”
In the last two segments, “Locche simply backed into the ropes, and let Sebastiao punch away, as Nicolino used his tight-shell defense to block or avoid nearly every punch the Brazilian could fire.”
Embarrassment wasn’t confined to the outer reaches of the squared circle, however. Nicolino had little issue performing similar acts of fistic defiance in the center of the ring, as the 15th round of his first bout with Cervantes aptly highlights. Locche, well in front on the scorecards against one of the greatest 140-pounds ever, dismissed any notion of danger by standing in range of the Colombian’s potent but exhausted jab, and made good use of his nickname, “El Intocable” (“The Untouchable”), by slipping shots with uncanny ease. At one point Locche looked to handcuff himself, putting both hands behind his back.
A similar fate had befallen Joe Brown, who battled Locche in August of 1963, in Buenos Aires. In front of a crowd of nearly 35,000, the hometown fighter “put on a fantastic show and out-slicked former World Lightweight Champion Joe ‘Old Bones’ Brown over 10 rounds. Locche easily handled the durable veteran during in-close exchanges, and surprisingly out-boxed Brown from the outside.”
But what better example can be used of Locche’s innate capacity to frustrate those who opposed him then when he snatched the light-welterweight crown from Takeshi Fuji, a pugnacious battler who threw everything with ill-intent. The Japanese pugilist spent the better part of nine rounds looking like rapper 50 Cent trying to hit the catcher’s mitt during the ceremonial first pitch at a Mets game. The third round was particularly telling. Fuji’s forceful blows whizzed past Locche with the utmost regularity; so much so that he stumbled on one occasion and fell to the canvass on another. The following rounds proceeded in much the same manner, only the Argentinian’s contortionist moves weren’t the only thing leaving a lasting imprint. Locche’s educated left hand scored often enough to close Fuji’s left eye and prompt a forfeit in the tenth. The bout was so lopsided that Locche seemed scarcely unaware that a boxing match had transpired, as a reporter approached him after the contest, inquiring his feelings on the fight. “What fight?” Locche retorted.
King
The defensive maestro did this all with an accompanying 50-a-day cigarette habit and was known to take the occasional puff in between rounds. In fact, many times whilst perched atop his stool, Locche’s corner would shield the act with their towel. Reason tells us that sort of nicotine routine isn’t conducive to good stamina or longevity. Of course reason also seems to indicate that a “balding, barrel-chested and thick shouldered” man who “resembled a slugger or the kind of beefy trialhorse” wouldn’t be as slick as owl grease either. But he was, and watching him in action means you can’t reason otherwise.
Unfortunately, Locche’s smoking caught up with him long after his opponents couldn’t, but he left a lasting imprint on those who saw him. Angelo Dundee, who worked with many past champions, spoke of Nicolino Locche at his Hall-of-Fame induction ceremony in 2003, stating, “I had the pleasure of watching Nicolino operate. He was slick, smart and played the ropes. He was like Willie Pep, meaning he could stand in one spot and you wouldn’t be able to hit him. He was a very smart fighter.”
Ray Arcel, another well-known trainer who was involved in the fight game from the 1910’s to the 1980’s, who saw everyone from Benny Leonard to Larry Holmes, honored Locche by proclaiming him the best defender he had ever seen.
Historian Mike Casey said of the Argentinian in his fantastic article “Wonderland: The Genius of Nicolino Locche” that, “Locche could blind an opponent with science in every way imaginable. His box of tricks was bottomless. He would bend forward from the waist, sometimes locking his gloves behind his back, stick his chin up in the air and cheekily invite uppercuts and slashing punches of despair that never struck him. The meaty, protruding head would gently tilt one way and then the other as the incoming missiles passed by and worked up a cool breeze.”
The praise, the timeless skill—it amounted to an amateur record of 122-5 and a professional one of 117-4-14, bringing his total to 239-9-14. You would be hard-pressed to find anyone post-1960 who finished with triple-digit wins and single-digit losses. You would be further troubled trying to find a more confident and clever practitioner of self-defense—such a shrewd, savvy bargainer of the fistic trade Locche was.
It made him wildly popular among the people, too, because he did it with charismatic flair and supreme confidence. It was unique and allowed him to perform in front of crowds in excess of 30,000. From maintaining conversations with ringside observers to psychological banter with his foes, they loved it; and on numerous occasions can one witness Locche’s back against the ropes, so at ease with his work that he barely makes an effort to safeguard himself, turn and gesture to someone in the stands. After victories they would let rip uproarious applause and chants of “Nicolino, Nicolino!” until Locche was saturated with affection—and they remained loyal until the end.
That end, at least to his career as a prizefighter, came in 1976. The conclusion to his life, 2005. A sad day it was, for Argentinians and boxing fans alike; but Locche left his earthly abode as a king. Not only as the king of his people, but with the crown he had snatched from Fuji in 1968. Locche’s belt had disappeared after the perfunctory victory and the WBA finally got around to sending him a new one weeks before his death. Attached to it was a letter from Gilberto Mendoza, then head of the WBA, which said:
“For us, it’s an honour to present you with this belt, which you won brilliantly. You are not only one of the great idols of Argentinian boxing, but one of the great champions in the history of world boxing. Accept our recognition through this belt. The king is not the king until he’s crowned.”
Hail King Locche. He now sits among the pantheon of defensive gods.
Nicolino Locche vs Antonio Cervantes 1. Antonio Cervantes aka "kid pambele" was a dangerous opponent, he could crack with both hands and left a trail of destruction in his career, here is a photo of Nicolino Locche taunting Cervantes, saying "you can't lay a glove on me." Locche won every round of their first encounter, he dominated Cervantes. I couldn't believe Locche had the balls to taunt him, Cervantes was a dangerous guy to be toying with, but Locche was that good, he baffled him defensively in their first encounter, he was brilliant. But Locche found out in the second encounter just how dangerous Cervantes was though, in their second fight Cervantes finally figured him out and stopped him, Locche had 136 fights in his career and Cervantes was one of only four people to beat him. But this photo is epic, to toy with a guy like Cervantes is just unbelievable, Locche was great.
Nicolino Locche may have had the look of a middle aged suburban dad, but his output and defensive genius in the ring was on a parallel with the likes of Willie Pep and Muhammad Ali. Those who stereotyped his looks would always have a rude awakening as he stood inches from them, pulling them apart, piece by piece, both mentally and physically. On so many levels, he really was untouchable
Locche vs Ferrat.
Anyway, Nicolino Locche really did change the sport of boxing, a lot of defensive fighters over the years have learned by studying film of him, there will never be another one like him, he was a genius.
Muhammad Ali and Nicolino Locche.
The great Nicolino Locche.
Nicolino Locche, a weak, chain-smoking, out of shape, light welterweight became World Champion because he was nearly impossible to hit.
This documentary about Nicolino Locche was supposed to be released, don't think it ever was.
The Untouchable is a true story about the incredible life of a man who reinvented the sport of boxing with his unique style and showmanship in the ring, set against Argentina's darkest and bloodiest Dictatorship. Early on, Nicolino Locche's non-violent nature forced him to develop a unique and novel defensive boxing style despised by everyone. He would bend forward from the waist, face unguarded, inviting uppercuts and punches of despair that never struck him. Locche would tease, mock and rattle his opponents, while making jokes with the audience and taking smoking breaks in between rounds. But his magic in the ring was larger than life, conquering the hearts of millions of fans. Due to his defensive mastery, he is baptized "The Untouchable." His life will be nothing more than the faithful reflection of a history full of human battles, disappointments, spectacular triumphs, and excesses of all kinds. As he dodges punches in the ring, life hits him hard. A humble man who hated violence, barely hit opponents, and hardly trained, rises to the top and becomes World Champion in one of the most violent sports. At the end, he loses everything he ever loved and is too late to realize it. In the process, he becomes a legend to the world of boxing and the greatest entertainer the sport has ever seen.
Ricardo "finito" Lopez, straw weight, light flyweight. He was one of the most dominant boxers in the history of the sport, he was never defeated, he retired with a record of 51-0-1, the lone blemish on his record was a draw with Rosendo Alvarez, he avenged that blemish when he beat Alvarez in the rematch. He was a relentless boxer-puncher with a killer instinct, he could do it all, he was a superb ring technician and he had knockout power. He could also rip vicious shots to the body, he reigned as world champion for over a decade.
Ricardo “Finito” Lopez: Remembering a True Legend
Boxing is Mexico’s most successful sport, having produced over 100 world champions and 12 Olympic gold medalists. Of all those great fighters there is one man that is considered by many experts as one of the greatest fighters ever to lace up a pair of gloves. That man is none other than Ricardo “Finito” Lopez Vera.
Although he was as successful in the ring as countryman Julio Cesar Chavez Sr., he was never given the same level of popularity for the simple reason that he fought at the Minimumweight division of 103 lbs., a division that not many are aware of. Regardless it was impossible to ignore the skills, knockout power, ring intelligence and undefeated record that Lopez had during a truly great 16-year career
Lopez first fell in love with boxing by watching fights on television with his dad on Saturday nights. Such fighters as Jose “Mantequilla” Napoles and images of red globes, bloody faces and one man being able to hit another without getting hit back was something that fascinated Lopez. Those became the men he aspired to be like.
He was seven years old the first time he ever walked into a boxing gym and minutes later, after seeing a sparring session, he approached a trainer wrapping another kid’s hands and demanded to fight him. That became his first time stepping into a boxing ring. From that day on boxing became his passion and he did everything he could to achieve his ultimate goal of becoming a world champion. He even drank five raw eggs to imitate Rocky Balboa from the popular Rocky movies of that time.
Lopez’s first big stage fight was at the 1981 Mexican Golden Globes in which he won the Gold Medal and followed it by winning four more consecutive Golden Globes titles. He then got the opportunity to be managed by legendary boxing manager Cullo Hernandez, who played a major part in the success of his entrance into the pros.
Lopez would go on to win his first world title in Japan on October 25, 1991 after beating Hideyuki Ohashi for the WBC Minimumweight Title. That same year Hernandez passed away and Lopez would be the last champion he would ever manage, a good note to end a legendary career and jump start another amazing one. Lopez would be left in the hands of respected trainer Ignacio Beristáin.
It is usually said that “It's hard getting to the top, but it's even harder to stay on it” and Lopez made sure to stay on top by having 22 title defences against strong opposition. Of all his title defences Lopez’s most competitive fight was his first bout against Rosendo Alvarez, in which, for the first time, he didn’t see his hands being raised. The fight was a draw and the closest one of Finito’s career. He would rematch Alvarez in Las Vegas eight months later and win with an outstanding performance.
In 1999, at the age of 33 and towards the end of his career, Lopez would make a small jump into the 108 flyweight division, in which he defeated Will Grigsby for the IBF title. He would go on to fight two more times and ended his career with a knockout win over Zolani Petelo. Lopez retired with a perfect professional record of 51 wins (KO 38) and zero losses—a record that can truly be defined as one of the greatest in boxing.
Lopez's career is not just impressive because he retired undefeated. That's obviously a great part of it, but most people remember him for his dedication to the sport of boxing, his discipline in the ring, the quality and beauty of his skills, the many title defences he had and the great combination of punching power and technical excellence he had in the ring—hence his nickname “Finito,” meaning "Finest.”
Unlike many all-time greats in the sport of boxing, Lopez’s career ended on a good note, and most importantly his reputation continues to this day. Now at the age of 45 he enjoys the benefits of his hard work and the admiration of his many fans. Lopez was a one-of-a-kind boxer and one that many young fighters should look to for inspiration.
Ricardo Lopez really was technical perfection in the ring, to watch him fight is to watch a master at work. His punches were deadly accurate, sharp, he had every tool in his arsenal. He took the boxing life serious too, no drugs, intense training, he was a gym rat, and it paid off in the ring. Pretty much all of his fights were a masterclass in the art of boxing.
His two toughest fights were against Rosendo Alvarez at the tail end of his career, the first one ended in a draw. The rematch saw Lopez suffer a nasty cut from an accidental bump of heads, but Lopez fought through the blood and soundly outboxed Alvarez. He really showed what he was made of in that second fight.
Lopez vs Alvarez II
Lopez vs Alvarez II
I love watching Ricardo Lopez, what a master, he had power in both hands.
Leaping left hook.
Straight right.
Lopez's technical brilliance was really on full display in his second fight against Rosendo Alvarez, which was his toughest fight. He really had to pull out all the stops and use his entire arsenal against Alvarez, who was a tough as nails opponent. What it amounts to is a great display of textbook boxing at it's finest.
One last thing about Ricardo "El finito"Lopez, he was trained by Ignacio "nacho" Beritain, one of the greatest trainers in boxing history, just look at this list of fighters he trained, some all-time greats in this list.
Ricardo Lopez in his prime.
The technical brilliance of Ricardo Lopez.
Herol "bomber" Graham. Most people remember him for having been knocked out by Julian "the hawk" Jackson, but Herol Graham was one heck of a fighter and a defensive guru, he knew how to make guys miss and then make them pay. Prince Naseem Hamed actually idolized Herol Graham and Hamed implemented a lot of Graham's defensive wizardry into his own style. Herol Graham is a very respected legend in the sport, Ring magazine caught up with Herol Graham and interviewed him about the best he faced.
BEST I FACED: HEROL GRAHAM
He was perhaps the best British fighter never to win a world title. Herol Graham has heard that remark so many times that he could be forgiven for being a little nauseous but, kind and pleasant to a fault, he only sees the good within the bitter sweet depiction.
“It means a lot to me,” said Graham without a hint of pretense. “I didn’t win a world title but I came mighty close and I’m respected within the sport. In the build up to a championship fight something always seemed to happen, whether it was girl trouble, or trouble in training camp.
“In the end, it just wasn’t meant to be.”
When it comes to defensive boxing, certain fighters have the knack of intuitive improvisation. Willie Pep, Pernell Whitaker and Wilfredo Benitez were all professional escape artists, whereas today “The Invisible Man” is played to perfection by pound for pound hotshot, Floyd Mayweather.
Well in Britain, during the 80s and into the 90s, the supreme U.K. defender was Herol “Bomber” Graham.
As a teenager he confidently strutted into The Wincobank Gym in Sheffield, England but could never have imagined his finesse splashed style would become lifeblood for a myriad of British fighters and, although retired for almost 16 years, he is still emulated to this day.
Prince Naseem Hamed, Johnny Nelson and Junior Witter were all world titlists who borrowed heavily from Graham. The wide side-on stance and low guard was blended with lightning reflexes and the ability to pull back from multi-punch assaults without losing balance.
“It’s great because I remember it so well,” said Graham. “When I came along the kids were boxing like old timers with their hands up, which wasn’t for me. When I sparred my hands were low and I was always moving, which nobody could really understand. They were all looking at one another like I was crazy.
“Anyway within two weeks they were all copying that style and then Naz came along, utilized it and began adding his own attributes. Still, the snake like bending at the waist was what all the fighters copied and it’s great to have been such a popular influence.”
Graham annexed British, Commonwealth and European titles at 154 and 160 pounds, but could never win the big one. In 1989 he lost a split decision to a peak Mike McCallum in a WBA title bout and a year later was schooling Julian Jackson, prior to being nailed by a made-in-hell knockout punch in the fourth.
Jackson’s right hand spoke only once and Graham was out cold.
Graham goes after then-IBF 168-pound titleholder Charles Brewer. Photo by Jed Jacobsohn
The Bomber’s final fight came in March 1998 against American power puncher Charles Brewer and once again he performed brilliantly. The IBF super middleweight title was on the line but, at 38 years of age, the fading veteran could not make the finish line and lost by stoppage in the 10th.
He was always so close and agonizingly so.
In later years Graham battled depression but has emerged from the darkness to enjoy a great family life. His biography, Bomber: Behind the Laughter, was received extremely well last year and the former world title challenger was glad to shed the stereotypical tough guy image.
“There was a sense of relief in disclosing my depression and it put people’s expectations into perspective,” said Graham. “Of course I’m a man, but men cry sometimes, don’t they? Men have problems and battle depression and a lot of people were glad that I touched on that.
“My book helped raise awareness of depression and its link to boxing. Fighters should have someone to speak to when their careers come to an end. Sometimes they do, but sometimes they don’t and once you fall into despair it’s very difficult to pull yourself back out.”
Graham still follows boxing and is interested in training full time, but this reporter was keen to know if it’s possible to teach the natural skills he possessed.
“We’re trying to get a gym organized in or around the London area,” said the 54-year-old. “I’ll be coaching and I think I have plenty to offer. I see trainers tell fighters to twist their wrists as they throw shots and that is just wasting time, when speed is of the essence.
“The faster I punch the quicker I hit you, right? Still, I wouldn’t force anyone to learn my style and if they just want taught boxing fundamentals then that’s fine by me – as long as they win.”
The Ring spoke to one of the finest British middleweights of the modern era about the opponents he encountered during a distinguished and memorable career.
BEST JAB
Nobody bothered me with the jab. I expected a great jab from Mike McCallum, but his didn’t trouble me at all. He was forced to hustle and bustle with me, because boxing wasn’t working for him.
BEST DEFENSE
Sumbu Kalambay: Maybe Kalambay, but there wasn’t anyone who really excelled defensively. Even McCallum wasn’t difficult to hit, and although Kalambay was a big puncher with long arms, he was still findable. That said I didn’t hit him as often as I wanted to, so Kalambay edges it.
FASTEST HANDS
Vinny Pazienza: For the most part my hand speed was superior, so it’s difficult to think of someone who troubled me. You could say Vinny Pazienza had the quickest hands but he couldn’t hit me with anything. It was funny because after that fight Pazienza told me that I didn’t touch him. I said, “What about the marks all over your face, Vinny? There’s blood coming from your eye and you have swollen lips, but I didn’t touch you?” He was going on like I didn’t win the fight (laughs). He did have quick hands because he was short limbed and exploded on the inside, but his style was easy to box against.
BEST FOOTWORK
Nobody, come on now, don’t mess about (laughs)! I kept it long and my stance was wide, so I leaned back out the way. The suspension of a bridge is long, is it not? If I wanted distance then I created it, so nobody was able to counter me in terms of footwork – nobody.
SMARTEST
Sumbu Kalambay or Mike McCallum: Both of them were smart technicians who made you think, but I pushed both of them all the way.
STRONGEST
Sanderline Williams: Williams in 1985. I remember him because he wore army trunks, but more so because his shots seemed to go right through me. I really had to move that night, because he hit so hard. I would still give punch power to Julian Jackson though. I have to because he knocked me out.
BEST CHIN
Charles Brewer: Well I can’t say me for this one because I got knocked out (laughs). It’s got to be Charles “The Hatchet” Brewer. I got him down twice, but couldn’t finish and he ended up stopping me. The fight was in Atlantic City, on the undercard of Lennox Lewis versus Shannon Briggs.
BEST PUNCHER
Julian Jackson: The best puncher was Julian Jackson, come on, please. I don’t even have to think when it comes to that question. One shot and I was gone and it came just after the referee was going to stop the fight in my favor. I made the mistake of going for a sucker punch, when he was in the corner, and Jackson responded with a knockout punch. I had to go to the hospital and there were some scary moments because I couldn’t remember a thing about the fight. Three or four hours later it all came back to me and that was a really powerful right hand shot. There were a lot of broken hearts in Britain that night, especially mine. Another extremely hard puncher was Lindell Holmes, who I outpointed in Sheffield, but nobody tops Jackson.
BEST SKILLS
Sumbu Kalambay: Kalambay for the European middleweight title. It was a very close fight, but he caught me with a big punch and I slid across the ropes. I have to give him that, it was a great shot, and that probably took the fight away from me, if I’m being honest. He was a quality opponent, who won and lost a fight with Mike McCallum after that.
BEST OVERALL:
Mike McCallum: I thought I beat him. He tried to dictate the pace and I could see that, so I changed the tempo and did my thing. I boxed, frustrated him with my movement and, although he scored points by applying pressure, nothing was landing. The judges scored aggression but it wasn’t effective aggression. This was The Body Snatcher, right? Watch the fight and you’ll see – he couldn’t touch me to the body. It was a great experience and he was a great fighter, but he couldn’t get off the shots that he wanted to get off. I was perhaps guilty of not throwing enough back, but I thought I earned the decision.
Love this photo of Herol Graham, it epitomizes what he was about, hit and not be hit, Graham makes his opponent miss and at the same time Graham connects with a left of his own, Graham was slick.
Herol Graham was fun to watch defensively, but he could mix it up as well, good boxing skills and decent power.