Julian Jackson, "the hawk", middleweight. A lot of people consider him to be the hardest puncher in boxing history period, when he hit an opponent flush, the guy usually fell over like a chopped down tree. It was like he had bricks in his gloves, a lot of his knockouts were scary to watch, and it didn't matter which hand he hit you with. Some guys only carry power in their main hand, he had knockout power in both, and you were just never safe against him. Ring magazine has him listed at number 25 on the 100 hardest punchers list, I disagree with that ranking, he should be much higher.
Julian Jackson was a decent boxer with a pretty good chin, but everyone who watched him fight wanted to see him ice someone, that's the thing about hard punchers, you just can't look away from them when they fight, you want to see the fireworks explode.
BEST I’VE FACED: JULIAN JACKSON
An old boxing adage states that punchers are born, not made. That was certainly the case with Julian Jackson, one of the hardest hitters in modern boxing history.
During his outstanding career Jackson won world titles at junior middleweight and middleweight, first holding the WBA 154-pound belt before stepping up to 160 pounds where the Virgin Islander’s power was every bit as devastating. He held the WBC middleweight crown on two occasions.
“It’s something you are born with,” Jackson told RingTV.com when recounting the first time he knew he had fight-ending power. “I remember as an amateur and the first time I threw a punch was against a professional and I knocked him down. I was about 17 or 18 (years old). I caught him with a right hand. That was the first time I realized I had natural power.
“I always seemed to have that power punch in the bag. I felt the power and my coach said I don’t have to try to hit hard all I need to do is throw the punch because my natural ability would click in. I realized that and I really found out I had that punching ability much more than a lot of amateurs I grew up with and trained with.”
Jackson won his first 29 professional bouts, with only two opponents hearing the final bell, before challenging Mike McCallum for the WBA junior middleweight crown. Though Jackson hurt McCallum in the opening round of their August 1986 showdown it was his fellow Caribbean power-puncher that came out on top, stopping Jackson in the following round.
When McCallum vacated the title, “The Hawk” swooped in and won it, stopping future super middleweight titlist In-Chul Baek in three rounds. His vaunted power was further in evidence during his three title defences, all of which ended with violent one-punch knockout victories against former IBF boss Buster Drayton, teak tough Brazilian Francisco De Jesus and future four-time junior middleweight champion Terry Norris.
With little left to prove at 154 pounds, Jackson headed to middleweight. However, the British Boxing board of Control refused to sanction a WBC middleweight championship bout with Herol Graham in Britain because of previous retina damage Jackson had suffered, which kept him out of action for nearly a year. With that in mind the fight took place in at a hotel in Benalmadena, Spain. For much of the first four rounds Graham gave Jackson a boxing lesson. However, Jackson’s fight-ending power was once again in evidence when he dramatically stopped Graham, considered the best British fighter to never win a world title, with one shot in Round 4.
Jackson has fond memories of his first middleweight title bout.
“Of all my knockouts that was one of the most historic,” he said. “The fight was amazing. Herol was a very good fighter, fast as well; he was a big middleweight and he was getting to me.
“I got caught early in the fight, I think my right eye was swollen, the ref said if I don’t do something he’s going to stop the fight. I switched (stances) so I could see him with my left eye and I literally threw the right hook since I switched to southpaw and he came straight in figuring he got me and I realized the punch was there, he was open. He came in for the kill and that’s when I was able to get off my right hook and caught him flush on the chin.”
Jackson defended the title on four occasions before running into Gerald McClellan on a bumper bill in Las Vegas that also featured Lennox Lewis and Julio Cesar Chavez in separate bouts.
Jackson had his moments before McClellan struck in the fifth frame, ending the fight with his own vicious knockout.
“I would say even though I hit him, I caught him with some punches, especially body shots, it was effecting him,” said Jackson. “I didn’t get a chance to really get my punches off to the chin that I really wanted to. I felt that he was able to elude me and prevent me from getting off my punches to the head. That’s something they worked on. They decided if I get hit from Julian I’m probably going to get knocked out. It just happened that I got hit.”
Three victories followed to set up the rematch on Don King’s “Revenge: The Rematches” pay-per-view event a year later. Jackson was unable to redress the balance and was stopped midway through the opening round.
With his 34th birthday looming Jackson’s best days appeared to be behind him. However, according to another boxing adage, the last thing a fighter loses is his power.
When McClellan vacated the title to move up in weight Jackson was matched with Agostino Cardamone for the vacant title.
Jackson recovered from being hurt in the opening stanza to demolish the unbeaten Italian in typical highlight-reel fashion, dropping Cardamone heavily and forcing the referee to call a halt to the action in the second round.
Though Jackson lost the title five months later to Quincy Taylor, he continued to fight, though lost back-to-back stoppages in his final two bouts and called it a day in 1998.
After 18 years as a pro, Jackson decided to bow out with a mark of 55-6 with 49 inside the distance wins.
In 2003, Jackson was voted number 25 on the “100 Greatest Punchers of All Time” by THE RING magazine.
Despite signature wins over Norris and Graham, Jackson feels his best night as a boxer came in the spring of 1987 against Milton Leaks.
“It was my first (significant) fight after the Mike McCallum championship fight,” he said in his distinct Caribbean accent. “I had to look good after losing to Mike and believe me it was one of those fights that you never forget.
“He knocked me down, and then I knocked him down, and then finally I knocked him out in the 10th round. Somebody said that the winner would become a champion, and I became a three-time world champion.”
The Virgin Island resident is happy with his achievements though does feel he missed out on a superfight.
“The one thing that I feel I didn’t achieve in my boxing career is fighting a mega fight,” he said, “which I believe would have made my career more outstanding.”
Like most fighters of his generation he craved a fight with Sugar Ray Leonard.
“One of the reasons, is that he said he would fight the winner of Terry Norris vs. The Hawk and he chose the loser Terry,” said Jackson.
Today, Jackson, 54, is a minister and works as a sport co-ordinator in boxing for the government in the Virgin Islands. He also trains his two sons Julius and John as well as his nephew Samuel Rogers, all of whom are professional.
Retirement seems to sit well with Jackson: “I enjoy my retirement because I love my country, my family and my new career as a coach.”
Recently Jackson took time out from his hectic schedule to kindly speak with RingTV.com about the best fighters he fought in 10 categories.
Mike-McCallum_320Best Skills – Mike McCallum – he was very seasoned. At that time he was the most experienced boxer that I had met. He was already a champion. I felt he was also very technical. He had all the tools as a boxer and I felt I had the power to knock him out but it turned out to be the opposite.
Best Jab – McCallum – When I look back I would say Mike McCallum probably had one of the best jabs. He was tall; his height had a lot to do with his jab. I guess his timing and his experience, all of that played with that scenario.
Best Defense – Gerald McClellan – In my first fight with Gerald McClellan I didn’t get to hit him like I really wanted to. I was getting to him but somehow my punches weren’t landing clean enough. He was always able to defend and move. His defense was fairly strong and instead of me getting the knockout, which I really believe I would have, I got caught from him and I was the one who got knocked out.
Best Chin – Thomas Tate – I can’t say it was Mike McCallum or Gerald McClellan. I fought this guy in Las Vegas, Thomas Tate. As a matter of fact, I remember the referee, Richard Steele, I literally heard him tell the guy to move because it seemed as though he was giving up. I was not able to end the fight and he was able to survive but I did knock him down but he got back up and we went the distance.
There was a guy I fought in a very cold place but I can’t remember his name. I don’t know if the fight was recorded but I remember fighting this white guy and I hit him with the sink and he wouldn’t go down.
Best Puncher – McClellan – Definitely Gerald McClellan. He was a natural puncher like myself. I knew it and he knew it. I said the one who gets hit first is gonna go down and I guess I was the one that got hit first (laughs).
Fastest Hands – Terry Norris – Terry Norris was naturally quick. Harold Graham was fast but Terry Norris was naturally quick. It was amazing. It seemed as though he was gonna throw one jab and the next thing you know you’re getting hit by two or three jabs. His hand speed to me was the best. My timing was the key to combat his speed. I wasn’t as fast, I was quick, but I wasn’t as fast, my timing was the key, putting on the pressure to combat that speed.
Fastest Feet – Norris – I believe hand and foot speed is something that comes as a package. I would say Terry Norris. His hand speed had to match his foot speed and he had good footwork as well.
Smartest – McCallum – He knew he was in a fight and I had a puncher’s chance and he was afraid of me ’cause just the way he was fighting and what he did in the fight to try to stop me from knocking (him) out. He thumbed me. I got about two or three low blows the referee didn’t see. You might say that’s not smart it’s dirty but he was able to throw me off my game plan because of that. I was really upset because of that.
Strongest – Francisco De Jesus – I hit this guy with punches, even though I stopped him, it was amazing the strength this kid had. He just had power and I could feel the brute strength of this kid. He was stronger than McClellan or McCallum as far as what I felt in that fight. You can be strong, even though McClellan was a very strong puncher his strength may not have been as strong as this guy. When we clinched I could literally feel his power and I was like “woo.”
Best Overall – McClellan – I would say Gerald McClellan had tremendous talent, he had speed, power, especially power, he could box and I feel overall Gerald McClellan was the best fighter I faced.
Julian Jackson was never out of a fight because of his power, a perfect example of this was his fight against Herol Graham, Graham had that fight won, he was laying a pretty good beating on Jackson and the referee was about to call it off, and then Graham made one miscue and it was over, Julian Jackson caught him with the right hand from hell. Herol Graham went to the hospital and couldn't remember what happened until four hours later.
Some guys you just ain't going to knockout, they have chins that you could make body armor from, guys like Marvin Hagler, Jake Lamotta, you couldn't knock them out with a baseball bat. Mike McCallum, aka "the bodysnatcher" had a great chin, he was never stopped. McCallum is a legend, one of the greatest middleweights in history. He's called "the bodysnatcher" because he was one of the best body punchers in history, and a phenomenal ring technician. Julian Jackson fought him in 1986, and right from the start Jackson went for broke and tried to take McCallum out, he hurt McCallum early but McCallum had a bulletproof chin and took it. Then McCallum turned the tables on Jackson and started breaking him down with body shots, and battered him up against the ropes, the referee stepped in and stopped it. I thought the stoppage was a little premature, but McCallum was one tough son of a gun and Jackson just couldn't do anything with him. But that's the thing about hard punching, if your power doesn't work against a guy, you better be able to outbox him, and McCallum was just a different animal, a superb, well rounded fighter, an all-time great.
Julian Jackson vs Gerald McClellan, 1993, an epic battle and one of my favorite fights of all time, two murderous punchers going up against each other. Gerald McClellan was nicknamed the "G-Man" and he had a mean streak in him, McClellan was a vicious bastard and he left a trail of destruction wherever he went.
Recalling The Savage, Damaging Gerald McClellan-Julian Jackson War
Comments Often, a relatively short but thoroughly action-packed middleweight title fight comes along, a fight that, though no gruelling, 11, 12, 13,14 or 15 round epic, deserves the E word all the same – think Hagler-Hearns (less than 3 completed rounds in total, but those eight minutes managing to pack in 15 rounds worth of thrills), think Sugar Ray Robinson-Rocky Graziano (both men down, Rocky hit so hard in the third he had to check to see if his legs still worked). And on this day 28 years ago, we fight fans were treated to another relatively short but mesmerizingly violent, back and forth 160 pound encounter. Gerald McClellan met defending WBC middleweight king Julian Jackson – as in KO King – in Las Vegas on May 8, 1993. What followed was a fight that should in no way have played second fiddle to any fight, not even a heavyweight title fight as proved to be the case. This fight was headline material – the highlight of the year, not only of the night. Jackson, his sight in question but his reflexes and his withering power firing on all cylinders, was making the fifth defence of the title he had won by way of a crushing KO of defensive master Herol Graham. “The G-Man” was four fights removed from his quick destruction of a faded John “The Beast” Mugabi, the 1991 massacre seeing the Kronk fighter win the WBO middleweight strap. Was McClellan ready for as massive a puncher, as lethal an operator as Jackson? “The fight wasn’t going the limit. I knew that,” said McClellan’s trainer Emmanuel Steward. Those words were said after a little over 14 minutes of action had taken place. And it was pure, exhilarating action. McClellan and Jackson went at it from the very start. It was McClellan who scored first blood, hurting Jackson with a right hand, this causing the champ’s legs to dip. Jackson came back in the second round, scorching his challenger’s midsection with a left hand that must have felt like a slashing razor. It was now a matter of who took the better shot. Jackson was left bleeding in the third, this from an accidental clash of heads. Jackson’s sight, already a matter of concern, was now compromised further. McClellan dominated the fourth. Then the explosion came, in the fifth. Jackson hurt his challenger – with a low blow. And then another low blow. McClellan went down, given time to recover from the second foul. Jackson was shaking his head. Then, when action resumed, McClellan crashed home with a monster right hand to Jackson’s head, the punishing blow followed by two sizzling lefts, and down the defending champion went. Laid on his back, “The Hawk” seemed finished. Instead, somehow, Jackson beat the count, only to be sent down again by another right. Once again Jackson got up, his face a mask of blood, but this time Mills Lane had seen enough. It was a superb win by McClellan and he seemed set for superstardom. Disturbingly, more so in hindsight, Gerald said in the post-fight interview how he had “an enormous headache,” that he was going to “sleep for two days.” Had the damage that would be made so, so much worse in the Nigel Benn fight that was 21 months away been inflicted? We will never know. But on this day in 1993, Gerald McClellan was without doubt the baddest middleweight on the planet.
Just for the record, between McClellan and Jackson, I think Jackson was the harder puncher. In 1993 Jackson was past his best, yet still dangerous. The best names McClellan knocked out were a shop worn John Mugabi and a past prime Jackson himself. Meanwhile, Jackson iced a still solid Herol Graham and a prime Terry Norris, Norris later said that he had never been hurt or dropped before facing Jackson, and Jackson took him out like it was nothing.
That punch that took Herol Graham out wasn't even thrown going forward with full force, Jackson threw that punch awkwardly and it still obliterated Graham.
Duilio Loi, one of the greatest pound for pound fighters that ever lived, his record was 115-3, and he avenged all three of his losses. Among the scalps he collected were the great Carlos Ortiz and the great Eddie Perkins. He's very under the radar, not many people outside of the boxing community have heard of him, but he is one of the best to ever do it.
Remembering Duilio Loi
Duilio Loi is a prime example of a great fighter who had been overlooked by boxing history simply because he fought almost exclusively in Europe. His time on earth and his career had been all but forgotten until he was enshrined into the International Boxing Hall of Fame in 2005. Until then, the word 'International' was a meaningless adjective used only for promotion, not a defining term of the Hall's mission to display the best boxers from around the world. Nino Benvenuti is the fighter most people associate with the best of Italian boxing, but a good case can be made for Loi as the finest fistic talent ever produced by Italy. Ironically, in death, Loi's name has found life again.
Rocky Marciano, Carlos Monzon, and Khaosai Galaxy are all lauded for retiring at the zenith of their careers, as the reigning champions of their divisions. Few remember that Duilio Loi did the same, retiring shortly after regaining his title from Eddie Perkins at the age of 32. A testament to Loi's greatness is that in 126 career bouts, he was on the losing end of the scorecards only three times (twice by split decision), and all the losses were avenged. You did not give Loi a second chance, as he was a fast learner and used his hard earned knowledge with bitter determination.
A factor in the underappreciation of Loi is his lack of knockout power, with only 25 of his 126 fights ending before the final bell. Loi was a short, well built brawler who relied on a stout chin (never knocked down) and smothering tactics to win fights. Loi possessed unbelievable reserves of stamina, constantly bobbing and weaving his way past opponents with longer reaches. He slowly exerted his will upon bewildered and exhausted foes. He also showed above average defensive skills, which further aided the mental collapse of opponents. Loi's high work rate and short stature were geared towards infighting, but it also negated his natural advantage of being a southpaw boxer. Still, it seems as if that in every month of the decade of the 1950's that The Ring reported on a "brilliant", "superb", or "exemplary" performance by a man named Loi.
The historic northern Italian port city of Trieste gave birth and rise to Loi, where he was born on May 4th, 1929. A small child, he was often picked out for ridicule by his classmates, and his father sent him to a local gym to learn to defend himself from bullies. Quickly, Loi discovered he had a talent for the game, but it was a talent that was put on hold as World War II raged over the continent. As Italy grew out of the devastation of World War II, Loi emerged from the rubble as well.
In 1948, at the age of 19, Loi turned pro and he would be put to the test early. In only his 16th fight, almost exactly two years to the day after he turned pro, Loi was fighting for the Italian lightweight title. On this occasion, Loi was held to a 12-round draw by veteran battler Luigi Male. Loi returned to the ring within a month, and impressed by defeating Austrian lightweight champ Karl Marchart. Loi would get a second shot at the Italian lightweight title eight months after his initial attempt. This time, Loi would not be denied and he won the title via 12 round decision. It was Loi's third year as a pro, and for the rest of his career Loi would remain either an Italian, European, or World champion.
The next logical step for Loi was an assault on the European lightweight title, and over the next year Loi fought nine times towards that goal. To earn a European title shot, Loi defeated English veteran Tommy Barnham, while defending his Italian title against future European welterweight champion Emilio Marconi. As in his first Italian title attempt, Loi was rebuffed in his first attempt for European laurels. 17,000 people watched a hotly disputed decision unfold that ultimately saw Jorgen Johansen retain his title before hometown fans in Copenhagen, Denmark.
Loi was heartbroken over the close loss, but he again worked his way out of a funk. After two defenses of his Italian title, and fourteen fights in all, Loi was given a second chance at the European lightweight crown. Loi won it easily this time, beating former conqueror Jorgen Johansen on points. The win was by a wide margin, and Loi felt vindicated and especially proud of the way he dominated the bout. The year was 1954, and Loi would be a top rated world lightweight or welterweight contender for the rest of his career. However, from 1954 to 1960, every reigning world champion successfully avoided his challenges.
Over the next five years, Loi defended both his titles successfully, the Italian title four times and the European version eight times. A world title shot continued to elude Loi, even though he had been undefeated in 58 fights. He decided to travel to Australia and fight three bouts to build up an international resume, instead of making more money defending his titles at home. The foreign trip was capped off with a visit to America, where Loi defeated world rated Glen Flanagan in Miami over ten rounds. Loi wanted to stay in America to gain more attention in his bid for a world title shot, but a big money offer to fight in Milan against Ray Famechon was too much to resist.
Upon returning home, Loi beat the tricky and experienced Famechon, and then fought out of Europe over the next five years. It was a period where he defended the European lightweight title without a setback. Loi also defeated solid international opponents such as a former world champion Wallace (Bud) Smith, whom he knocked down four times en route to a ninth round stoppage. Mexican Al Nevarez (who beat world champs Jimmy Carter, Wallace Smith, and Don Jordan) was also bested over ten rounds, and men from almost every European nation were sent home with losses.
As his wins mounted, Loi grew frustrated by the politics of boxing, which halted his pursuit of the world lightweight title. So, he moved up in weight and began to fight at welterweight in 1959. The waters at welterweight were rougher for Loi, but once he became familiar with the problems at hand, he overcame them with the same ease he had at lightweight. In April of 1959, Loi won the European welterweight title by defeating countryman Emilio Marconi over fifteen rounds. Loi defended the European welterweight title three times, yet another title he never lost in the ring. During this time, Loi was considering retirement and toward that end he opened a restaurant in Milan that thrived, whereas his boxing career seemed to stagnate.
In a career that was marked by bad luck in terms of world title opportunities, Loi did find himself fortunate to be active when the jr. welterweight division was brought back into existence. The division was perfectly suited for Loi, as he was not really powerful or tall enough to compete on even terms with the elite at welterweight. As the title was newly established, Loi was able to garner a title shot within a year of its existence. Even at this new weight, Loi found himself thwarted at first, and when Loi did get a shot at a reigning world champion, the title was not put on the line.
Puerto Rican legend Carlo Ortiz, who was a world class boxer and part of The International Boxing Hall of Fame’s inaugural class, gave Loi an opportunity to fight him in San Francisco. Fighting for only the second time in America, Loi lost a razor thin 15 round split decision. The two men traded punches on the inside throughout the 15 rounds. Ortiz landed the harder blows, and it seemed to sway the judges. Ortiz was given the decision, which many at ringside claimed could have just as well gone to Loi. The closeness of their initial encounter created interest for a rematch. Ortiz, looking to earn extra money, gave in to his wallet and traveled to Italy to defend his title against Loi.
65,000 fanatic Italian fans at Milan's San Siro Stadium were somewhat subdued as Ortiz (who went on to dominate the lightweight division for 10 years) won the early rounds with great bodywork. Loi upped his punch output in the middle rounds, which were close and difficult to score. It became a battle of attrition, which Loi was destined to win because of his stamina. Loi clearly won the championship rounds, and in the final two rounds Ortiz did little but cover up and hold onto Loi at close range. When the scores were read, Loi was finally a world champion.
Loi had won the title on points, as was his fashion, and The Ring magazine made a great observation on how Loi had managed to win this time around. "Fighting at home can turn a toothless tiger into a savage beast", and Loi knew that this would be his last chance at world title as well. Desperation played a large role in the many chances he took during the bout.
Loi, at the age of 31, and after 102 fights, was finally a world champion, while at the same time he was defending his hard earned European titles. This is a feat overlooked by many American boxing historians, as Loi retained his European title against top 10 world ranked contenders like Bruno Visintin, Chris Christensen, and Fortunato Manca.
The Loi vs. Ortiz series would turn into a trilogy, and the third fight (the second with the world title on the line) would be the most lopsided of the bouts. Again over 60,000 fans turned out, and again Loi was sharply focused on the task at hand. Ortiz tried to preserve his energy this time out, but found the Loi assault harsher than expected. Loi even scored a knockdown in the sixth round, which seemed to seal the fate of Ortiz early. Loi was on his way to a dominating points win, as the year's biggest boxing crowd roared its approval.
Next in line for Loi's world title was smooth boxing Eddie Perkins, who would prove to be a worthy challenger for world honors. Perkins was a tall, skilled boxer looking to counterpunch his way to victory. In other words, the exact opposite of Loi, who was a stout come forward brawler. It was also a bad matchup stylewise, and Loi came away with a boring draw which frankly no one deserved to win. In the ninth round, referee Nello Barrovechio stopped the bout and urged the fighters to "fight", as the crowd booed all involved. Some felt Perkins landed the cleaner jabs (both boxers stayed at distance), and deserved the nod in a close fight. Others felt he had not done enough to warrant taking the title from the champ.
The rematch was different, only sought after by Perkins and the WBA, and saw Perkins attack behind a stiff left jab. Perkins, as Loi felt against Ortiz in their second meeting, knew this was his last title opportunity and fought like it. Perkins was sharp, able to move and counter Loi as he was coming in and out of range. Loi's body work was not taking the desired effect, and he was never able to cut off the ring effectively. The more visible and assertive blows were landed by Perkins, and he was rewarded for it with a unanimous decision win. The title was on its way back to America.
A famous boxing axiom says, "All great boxers have one last great effort left in them". The 33 year old Loi proved this saying correct in his third bout with Perkins. Only three months after his lopsided defeat, an extremely fit and determined Loi was able to reverse the loss. This time, Perkins could not keep Loi at a distance with his jab, and Loi weaved his way inside, raking the body and mixing in combinations to the head. A drained Perkins seemed resigned to a points loss after the seventh round, while Loi continued to put forth a commendably high work rate for a man his age.
For the first time in his boxing career, Loi was truly satisfied, and a month after winning the title back (and without engaging in any more fights), he decided it was time to retire...as the reigning world champion. Loi felt his skills were diminishing, and he wanted to spend more time with his family and continue to build up his restaurant business. Loi was not a man of great ego, and did not find it hard to walk away from the sport he had given everything to.
After retiring, Loi slowly faded from the consciousness of Italy and the rest of the boxing world. Late in life, Loi struggled with Alzheimer's disease, and lived with his caretaker daughter. Loi drew a small pension provided by the Italian government, a special pension established for "Writers, actors, poets and sportsmen who made Italians proud." It’s something which anyone who lived through Loi's reign would attest to. In 2005, Loi received boxing's ultimate reward, when he was inducted into The International Boxing Hall of fame. Loi was unable to attend because of his Alzheimer's condition, but his daughter gratefully accepted the award and recognition that went along with it. Just like his world title shot, it was long overdue, which somehow seemed strangely fitting.
And you have to say Duilio Loi has one of the greatest chins in boxing history, in 126 fights, he was never knocked down. He was a bull of a fighter, extremely strong and utilized that strength with brute force to overpower his opponents.
Duilio Loi wasn't known as a hard puncher, yet he floored fighters with iron chins, Carlos Ortiz, Eddie Perkins, Loi has been described as a miniature version of Jake Lamotta. When he was past 30 years of age, he won two out of three against a peak Carlos Ortiz (dropping Ortiz multiple times in the process), and was the only champion to ever successfully defend a world title against Ortiz (in their rubber match.) The legendary Carlos Ortiz was one of the greatest fighters in history, to beat him twice in his prime is impressive.
Eddie Perkins was another all-time great, Perkins was one heck of a fighter, as slick as they come, and Perkins had this skill where could punch right through an opponent's defensive guard and hit him.
Florentino "the ox" Fernandez, middleweight, he had a violent, violent career. He's one of the hardest punchers ever, he had a brutal left hook. He brutally knocked out Jose Torres, it was the first time Torres was ever stopped. Florentino Fernandez was a massive middleweight, thickly muscled from head to toe with a wide but destructive left hook and crippling attack downstairs, Ferdie Percheco claimed that the sound of Fernandez's body shots landing on Jose Torres made him cringe upon impact as he watched ringside.
The great boxing trainer Angelo Dundee called Fernandez the hardest puncher he's ever trained. Here's what Angelo Dundee said about Florentino Fernandez:
Florentino Fernandez — I love boxers but I’ve trained some bangers in my time. (Former heavyweight titleholder) Pinklon Thomas could whack, but nobody could punch like Fernandez. He was the best puncher out of Cuba. He was a converted southpaw so his left hook was murder. He broke Gene Fullmer’s forearm with a left hook during their middleweight title fight. He could hurt anyone with any kind of punch no matter where it landed.
Florentino Fernandez is a legend. What a violent, violent fighter he was. He was a restless puncher who earned his nickname "the ox." A real anyone anywhere anytime gun slinger sort of fighter. He was the kind of guy that was coming for you, whether you got him or he got you, it didn't matter to him, that was the nature of the sport as far as he was concerned. His fight against Gene Fullmer was one of the most brutal encounters ever, both guys really layed a beating on each other. Florentino Fernandez hit Gene Fullmer in the arm with a left hook and broke a bone in Gene Fullmer's arm, Fullmer fought the last few rounds with a completely numb arm, he didn't realize until after the fight that his arm was broken. Gene Fullmer was a monster, despite having a broken arm he continued to fight. Florentino Fernandez really ripped some brutal body and head shots into Gene Fullmer, but Fullmer was as tough as they come, and he gave as good as he got and won the decision. A hell of a battle.
Florentino Fernandez hits Gene Fullmer with a brutal left hook.
A LOSING LOOK IN A WINNING FIGHT
BLOODY AND BATTERED THROUGH THE LAST TWO ROUNDS, GENE FULLMER HAD ALL THE APPEARANCE OF A DEFEATED BOXER. HE WAS THE REAL WINNER, THOUGH, AS HE BEAT FLORENTINO FERNANDEZ IN A ROUSER
It is one of the singular qualities of Gene Fullmer, whose heavy and swollen face gives him the appearance of a man ravaged by instant mumps, that he always looks like a beaten fighter yet he is almost never the loser. Last Saturday, as he defended his middleweight title (the NBA version, which is not recognized in New York, Massachusetts, Europe and assorted suburbs), he managed to exalt Challenger Florentino Fernandez from Cuba even as he defeated him. The fight was a virtuoso performance in the Fullmer genre in which appearance all but overcame reality.
Fernandez, a muscular boxer with the upper torso of a light heavyweight and the lower torso of a big welterweight, is a good example of what is happening in boxing. He had three fights as a middleweight, won them all on knockouts, and almost before he had a chance to settle comfortably into his new division found himself fighting Fullmer for the championship. He is a converted southpaw, with a strong left hand and a somewhat overdeveloped left side. "He's an inch bigger all down his left side," says Angelo Dundee, an enthusiastic mercenary who supplements Fernandez' Cuban handlers here in the U.S. "Even his left foot is bigger than his right."
Before the fight Fernandez was said to have two assets working for him. One was his powerful left hook. Fullmer was knocked out by Ray Robinson in May 1957 when a left hook caught him on the chin, and it has become part of an elaborate fantasy of the sport that he is particularly susceptible to left hooks on the chin. The flaw in this theory is that Fullmer is susceptible to any punch on the point of the chin. Sitting in the office of the West Jordan Lions Club last Friday night, his face puffed as usual, his eyes looking as if they'd disappear if he glanced out the corners, Fullmer said as much. "It was not because it was a left hook; it was because I walked right into the punch."
Fernandez' other asset was supposed to be his age. He is only 25, Fullmer is 30 and this fight marked a subtle change, a sort of continental divide, in his career. Heretofore he had been fighting older men; now, for the first time, he was in a title match against a decidedly younger man. ("There'll be a lot of them from now on," said Marv Jenson after the fight. "It's a new era.") As it developed, Fullmer's age—and experience—helped him while Fernandez' youth did him no perceptible good.
For his part Fullmer was thought to have the edge in stamina. Four of his last six fights went 15 rounds, and the other two involved knockouts of Carmen Basilio in the 12th and 14th rounds. Fernandez had never gone more than 10 rounds, and the last time he went as long as 10 rounds he lost.
Finally, the fight was to be held in Utah. "I am fighting in Fullmer's home state and home country. I will be fighting under the laws of the State of Utah and with officials the Utah Boxing Commission will designate. This is of no concern to me," Fernandez announced grandly. (Actually, in its efforts to find impartial officials, the Utah commission sometimes exasperates the Fullmer camp more than the visitors. On the night before the fight, Jenson protested the selection of Del Markham as one judge on the grounds that Fullmer had beaten Markham badly in an amateur fight some 15 years ago. The commission stood by Markham.)
The fight itself was held in the unreal turn-of-the-century atmosphere that television, mindful of the big 10 p.m. markets in the East, has forced on boxing. It was still daylight as the bell sounded and in the background was the renowned Wasatch Range. The setting was reminiscent of the old photographs of boxing. The script, however, was more familiar: in the first two rounds Fullmer moved away from Fernandez, keeping his left side toward the challenger (to make Fernandez' left hook less dangerous) and peeking out the corners of his eyes like a wary, wounded animal. Fernandez bore in, looking for a chance to land his left hook. He wanted to work on Fullmer's kidneys and stomach to get the champion's crossed-arm guard down from his head. Then when Fullmer plunged down and forward into close range, he wanted to belt him with a right uppercut. "But Gene upset the pattern," said Dundee after the fight. "He's a smart operator."
No body, no knockout
In the third, Fullmer began the tactics that endured for 10 rounds. On the theory that there was "a lot of arm in Fernandez' left hook but not much body," he maneuvered so that he could throw his right cross above Fernandez' arm when he got set to throw the left. At one point in the third round, Fullmer held Fernandez by the throat with his left hand while he belted him with the right. But the quick knockout, which was close, eluded him. "I knew he was hurt but I couldn't tell whether he was hurt in the head or the body or what," said Fullmer.
After that Fullmer clawed in behind Fernandez' left arm, held horizontally across his head, to pound at Fernandez in the clinches. The body punches, Fernandez said later, were his single most important surprise in the fight.
Through all this, Fullmer felt he was in control. Fernandez' pattern had been broken, and they were fighting Fullmer's fight—close-in mauling, fierce punching without style or mercy. But Fernandez was not tiring. "He's a strong young bull," said Fullmer, "but he's not a smart fighter. He needs experience." (Said Referee Ken Shulsen: "Fernandez was listening and watching his corner. Three times while he was listening to his corner, he got hit hard.") Fullmer was bloody from superficial cuts around the right eye, near the bridge of his nose and the right corner of his mouth.
Early in the 14th round, Fullmer shot a right hand at Fernandez' head—and stopped momentarily. A small, mirthless, self-deprecating smile passed over his face, as if he were meditating on his own idiocy. He had hurt the second knuckle in his right hand (a similar injury suffered in training delayed the fight for a month) and broken his elbow. Now the right arm was useless.
Fernandez bore in and took the initiative completely away from Fullmer. He caught him erect and backing away in the arm with a left hook, Fullmer's arm was numb halfway to the elbow, although there was no pain, and he felt a surge of weakness. "I wasn't even strong enough to bend down and bull forward," he said later. To most, it looked like he was barely hanging on. But as he groped his way back to his corner, he saw his mother hiding her face and he flipped her a word of confidence. "What was you worried about?" he asked her later.
In the 15th round the gap between Fullmer's appearance and his view of reality widened. He reeled wildly around the ring, clutching at the ropes to keep from falling, yet he said after the fight that he recovered somewhat during the round and felt he broke about even with Fernandez. This is a view that none of the judges shared with him, but at the end Marv Jenson threw the satin robe over him with the gold side out. It is part of their private ritual—"If it comes on gold, it means that in my mind it's certain that we won it," says Jenson. The decision was close and it was split. The only judge who gave Fernandez the edge was Del Markham.
Long after the fight, Fernandez sat in the house trailer that served as his dressing room. Virtually unmarked, he held a bloody paper napkin to his ear which, Dundee explained, he had lanced to prevent cauliflowering. Dundee asked Fernandez if he felt pain. The loser thumped his chest near his heart and said, "Corazón [Only in my heart]."
Ray "boom boom" Mancini. Man, love this guy, all action fighter, always moving forward, always punching. He was a great fighter in his prime, but his career is overshadowed by the death of Duk Koo Kim, a South Korean fighter that died after a 14 round slugfest with Mancini.
SHOOTING STAR
RAY “BOOM BOOM” MANCINI WILL BE REMEMBERED FOR SHINING BRIGHTLY, BUT BRIEFLY, AND A TRAGEDY
His boxing career more or less was launched as an undersized setup man for a very large heavyweight novelty act.
From that humble beginning to his upcoming June 14 induction into the International Boxing Hall of Fame, the path traveled by Ray “Boom Boom” Mancini has featured more rises and dips than an EKG reading. He won the WBA lightweight championship, a distinction denied his World War II-veteran father (onetime lightweight contender Lenny “Boom Boom” Mancini), and became vastly popular in part because of his all-action style and in part because for his status as a devoted, promise-fulfilling son and beacon of hope for his Rust Belt hometown of Youngstown, Ohio.
But although America undoubtedly had a torrid love affair with “Boom Boom” the Younger, the passion was truncated: Discounting an unsuccessful, two-bout comeback, he fought for just 5¾ years. And at a crucial point during that stretch he was unfairly depicted as the poster child for all that is supposedly wrong with boxing. To this day, Mancini is haunted by the memory of his tragic, 14th-round stoppage of South Korea’s Duk Koo Kim. Almost immediately, Mancini’s image morphed from that of the kid next door who made good to someone who had killed a young father from a faraway land with his fists, as Kim, who collapsed in the ring, was declared brain-dead and removed from life-support four days later. CBS, which had happily promoted Mancini as its house fighter, moved quickly to sever its involvement in boxing, which affected the well-being of the sport far beyond the inner turmoil that sapped its onetime attraction of much of what had made him special.
Ray Mancini, now 54 and living in Santa Monica, California, Mancini can only look back on his time in boxing with a mixture of accomplishment and, yes, regret.
“I don’t think any fighter starts out thinking, ‘OK, I’m going to do this, I’m going to do that, and I’ll get in the Hall of Fame,'” Mancini, in his first year of eligibility, said when asked if he thought he’d receive a congratulatory call from IBHOF Executive Director Ed Brophy. “For me, I wanted to win the world title for my father. That was it. Then, when I won the title, I wanted to be the best champion that I could be, for the city of Youngstown, for my family. And third, I wanted to make some money and get some security.
“Winning the title is one thing. But there’s been a lot of champions who had it for about a day and a half. I wanted to do all the things a good champion should do. Did I do all that I set out to do? Enough to become a Hall of Famer? I don’t know. I didn’t know what it takes to get in; I still don’t. Is it stats? Is it impact? You tell me. But whatever it is, I’m very honored and very flattered to have made it.”
Mancini’s stats (29-5, 23 knockouts) are impressive but perhaps not overwhelmingly so. Although he was just 21 when he captured the WBA 135-pound title, on a first-round stoppage of Arturo Frias on May 8, 1982, in Las Vegas, it was his second shot at the big prize. The first came on Oct. 3, 1981, in Atlantic City, when WBC lightweight ruler Alexis Arguello registered a 14th-round technical-knockout victory. Following that defeat, the first of his career, Mancini scored two wins inside the distance to put himself in position to dethrone Frias and keep the promise he had made years earlier to his dad, whose own championship dreams were likely dashed when, on Nov. 10, 1944, near the French town of Metz, he was hit with shrapnel from a German mortar shell.
Maybe it all would have happened in any case for Mancini, who had all the prerequisites to be fast-tracked to stardom. He was white, Italian-American, good-looking, with a fan-friendly approach to his craft and a backstory that had even non-boxing fans reaching for their handkerchiefs once the saga of Lenny and his son gained traction. But there is at least a possibility that Mancini’s destiny would have been denied, or at least delayed, were it not for a 6-foot-9, 255-pound defensive end for the Dallas Cowboys, Ed “Too Tall” Jones, who had decided to take a break from his NFL career to try his hand at professional boxing.
As the NFL’s first overall pick in the 1974 draft, and a key figure of the Cowboys’ famed “Doomsday Defense,” Jones benefited from having all six of his bouts nationally televised by CBS, which aired Dallas games as frequently as possible. Jones was managed by former sports writer David Wolf, who successfully lobbied CBS to put another of his fighters, a young, unknown lightweight from Youngstown, on several of the telecasts in which “Too Tall” was the headliner.
Although Jones went 6-0 with five knockouts from Nov. 3, 1979, to Jan. 26, 1980, the opponents he was being spoon-fed weren’t as difficult to get past as your average NFL offensive lineman. Mancini, who was 1-0 when he signed on for the whirlwind “Too Tall” tour, was 5-0 with four KOs as an opening act, making a name for himself that he would continue to embellish after Jones returned to the Cowboys for 10 additional seasons.
“Dave Wolf was a brilliant guy,” Mancini said of his former manager. “My first fight (not with Jones) was in my hometown of Youngstown. The second was in Phoenix, the third in Washington, D.C., the fourth in Dallas, the fifth back (also not with Jones) in Youngstown, the sixth in Jackson, Mississippi, the seventh in Indianapolis. He had me going around the country with ‘Too Tall.’ But all that moving around got me noticed by more people when I was on the way up. A lot of guys when they start out, they stay in one spot for a while.”
The boxing world, having been introduced so early to Mancini, quickly became even more familiar with the tale of the little kid who loved to go down to the basement of the family home and pore over scrapbooks chronicling his father’s pugilistic career. It became Ray’s dream to live the dream that Lenny might have realized had it not been for his war injury.
Moments after Mancini blasted out Frias, he and Lenny, who was 84 when he died in 2003, embraced in a display of genuine love and affection. The scene would be played out time and again, in a manner of speaking, in film (a made-for-television movie) and in print (“The Good Son: The Life of Ray ‘Boom Boom’ Mancini,“ by author Mark Kriegel). Winning the title for his father meant more to the son than it did for himself. And it also provided a nice boost of civic pride to his hometown, which had fallen on hard economic times on Sept. 19, 1977, “Black Monday,” when thousands of its citizens reported for work at Youngstown Sheet and Tube, one of the world’s largest steel mills, and found the gates padlocked.
Mancini never knew the despair of losing a mill job – or maybe even the necessity of having one – but everything changed for him on Nov. 13, 1982, at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas. He and Duk Koo Kim were throwing everything they had at one another. And the damage that was mutually inflicted was as frightful to witness as it was electrifying. “[Kim] was the mirror image of Ray,” said Top Rank matchmaker Bruce Trampler. “It was like Mancini vs. Mancini.”
Mancini dropped Kim in the 14th round and, although the valiant South Korean challenger beat the count, referee Richard Green stepped in to prevent him from absorbing further punishment. But by then it was already too late: Kim’s death and the subsequent suicides of Kim’s mother and Green drained the joy of boxing out of Mancini, as well as a substantial degree of his marketability.
“I can’t say how long I would have continued had that fight not ended the way it did but certainly after that I was looking for the door,” Mancini said.
Although he won four fights after the Kim tragedy, including two title defenses, the exit for Mancini presented itself in the form of back-to-back losses to Livingston Bramble, the first on a 14th-round stoppage, the second on a 15-round unanimous decision. A worsening problem – a tendency for the scar tissue around his eyes to be torn into bloody cuts – was a contributing factor in each instance. Mancini needed 14 stitches to close the gashes incurred in the first Bramble fight, 27 in the rematch.
There would be a four-year layoff from the ring, during which Mancini tried his hand at acting. But choice roles were few and far between, and, well, there is a certain comfort level in a man returning to what he knows best. But even though still chronologically young, the rust on “Boom Boom” showed as he lost a 12-round split decision to Hector Camacho on March 6, 1989, and was stopped in seven rounds by Greg Haugen on April 3, 1992.
“When my career ended, I was proud of it and I moved on,” Mancini said. “Boxing had served its purpose. I left with no regrets. I had lost my love for the game. Plus, my style of fighting was not made for a long career. It was fan-friendly, so you sacrifice longevity to make your mark while you can.
“The thing I’m most proud of is that people remember my fights. It sure beats the alternative. But in every fight, you leave a piece of yourself. It comes down to how many pieces you have left. The bigger the war, the bigger piece you need, and the bigger piece you leave in the ring. It’s sad, but when some guys are done, there’s nothing left. Your body has only so many fights in it.”
As was the case with the late Arturo Gatti, and maybe a couple of others, Mancini’s worthiness for the IBHOF has been questioned by those who believe his prime was too short and lacking the stamp of legitimate greatness. Mancini realizes he wasn’t a slam-dunk for induction and he said he could have lived with it had he been snubbed by voters.
“Boxing was one chapter in my life,” he said. “It wasn’t the only chapter. There were other things I wanted to do. To be honest with you, I didn’t think I warranted [induction] because I didn’t have that long a career. But one writer told me, `Yeah, but you had a big impact on the sport. You were part of a group of fighters in the early ’80s when network television got back involved. You brought boxing into America’s living rooms on Saturday afternoons because you were CBS’ guy.’
“You know what? I hadn’t really thought of it in that way. So I said, ‘OK, I’ll take it then."
That's the thing about boxing, it's a brutal sport.
The Haunted Life Of Ray 'Boom Boom' Mancini
Ray Mancini carried hopes and ghosts into the boxing ring. He was the son of a great contender, Lenny Mancini, who was wounded in World War II before he ever got a chance at a championship. Mancini inherited his father's ring nickname — "Boom Boom" — and his championship dreams. In 1980, Mancini succeeded in winning the lightweight championship of the world, earning him widespread adoration.
And then, in November 1982, Mancini met a South Korean boxer named Duk Koo Kim in just his second title defense. Duk Koo Kim went down in the 14th round — and he never got up. He died four days later.
Boom Boom Mancini kept his title. But Mancini, once the clean-living good son who won the title his father couldn't, saw his image changed. "After that fight, I became the poster boy for everything that was wrong with boxing," Mancini told NPR.
Mark Kriegel, who has written acclaimed biographies of Joe Namath and Pete Maravich, has written a new book, The Good Son: The Life of Ray "Boom Boom" Mancini. Kriegel talks with NPR's Scott Simon about how Mancini's pursuit of family honor was marred by tragedy.
On the pressure Mancini felt to succeed as a boxer
"Well, from a young age, he aspired to rescue the reputation and, in effect, redeem his father. And as Ray grows up, as a boy, he goes into the ... laundry room in the basement, and excavates all the old clippings of his father — his father's fights — and as a kid he says, 'Hey dad, I'm going to win the title for you.' ...
"I think it was a will to rescue a wounded father, to correct the past. It was his way of saving the family honor. And what came of it was an enormously successful career — for a time, he was the hottest thing out there."
On what made Mancini a great fighter
"Ray made himself a great fighter based on desire. Ray wanted it more. He believed in sacrifice. He was, in literal terms, willing to bleed more than the next guy. He was willing to take two punches to give one, and, like his father, he always came forward, and he ... regarded that as a mark of virtue in a fighter."
1982 match between Mancini and Duk Koo Kim
"Caesars Palace had just unveiled a new outdoor ring, and you have to remember that boxing was still a major American sport. There was a great deal of celebrity interest. It's a big Saturday afternoon fight on CBS. It's the middle of an NFL football strike. Bill Cosby's there, and Frank Sinatra and Jilly Rizzo are front and center. And in the days before the fight, Sinatra had actually sought an audience with Ray, which Ray was astounded at ...
"[Frank Sinatra] loved Ray Mancini. And he says, 'Listen. You're doing us all proud, kid.' Just before the fight, Sugar Ray Leonard had announced his retirement, and what that left was Ray Mancini as arguably the most marketable athlete in America ...
"It was the 14th round. It was supposed to be an easy fight; it was supposed to be something of an exhibition. And from the beginning, you could see it was much more arduous for both fighters. And they're both coming forward. Neither is going to concede any step. And finally, in the 14th, Ray comes out, hits him with a left hook, Kim collapses, falls backward against the ropes, the ring becomes a frenzy. And Ray doesn't even know that Kim is ... badly hurt — he can't see."
On who was responsible for Kim's death
"Each of the protagonists and each of the supporting characters all acquit themselves admirably. And you're still left with a tragedy."
On the effect of Kim's death on Mancini, who told NPR, "It haunted me, was why [Kim] and not me? He was giving as good as he was getting. And who's to say it wouldn't be me next time?"
"The idea of the sport had been holy to Ray, and now that Kim's death had incited a national debate about boxing and a backlash against Mancini himself, he felt it became corrupted. There ... was nothing joyous in it anymore — all the righteous reasons for which he had fought were now gone. ...
"Fighters can't believe in ghosts. If he had had less imagination, less sensitivity, he probably would have survived this as a fighter ... He became the most unlikely symbol for what was corrupt and objectionable and brutal about boxing."
On the meeting Kriegel helped bring about between Mancini and Kim's son, Chi Wan, in an attempt at reconciliation
"Chi Wan and Young Mee, his mother, come to Ray's house. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't an awkward meeting and it didn't begin with a certain excessive formality and stiffness. And where I think they really started to break the ice was when Ray picks up the photograph of his father after the Billy Marquart fight from 1941 where his father was, in fact, battered. And I think that everybody in that room found something haunting and familiar in that image that they all identified with, and it started to ease up from there."
It's hard to like this sport when you see things like the Duk Koo Kim tragedy unfold, it's not the only tragedy that has happened in this sport, many fighters have died as a result of their injuries, too many to count. Ray Mancini has made peace with what happened, and I'm glad he found peace, because it wasn't his fault, this is a dangerous sport. Watching boxing today, you always hope that the referee jumps in and stops a fight if a guy is taking too bad of a beating, we don't need any more tragedies.
Bobby "the schoolboy" Chacon was a legend and a hero to Ray Mancini, they fought in 1984. Bobby Chacon had been in many brutal wars by the time him and Ray Mancini fought, Bobby Chacon was at the end of his career. Bobby Chacon is one of my all-time favorites as well, much like Mancini, Chacon was an all action fighter, he gave us some of the best fights in boxing history, his clashes with Rafael "bazooka' Limon were about as savage as you can get, his fight with Danny "little Red" Lopez", Ruben "rockabye" Olivares, Alexis "the explosive thin man" Arguello among many others. Chacon was a legend, known for being able to take ridiculous amounts of punishment and walking through fire. Bobby Chacon was a prime example of what it takes to make it in this sport, the punishment you have to endure, it's unlike any other sport. Anyway, in 1984 Mancini fought the legendary Chacon, it was a sad sight to behold. But what should have been a passing the torch moment, basically turned into the end of the line for Ray Mancini, he couldn't get past the tragedy of what happened to Duk Koo Kim.
Jan. 14, 1984: Mancini vs Chacon
Boxing is not an old man’s sport and over the decades there have been plenty of what we might call “passing-the-torch” fights, when age gives way to younger legs and faster fists. Rocky Marciano knocking Joe Louis out of the ring and catapulting himself to heavyweight glory. Mike Tyson sending Larry Holmes to the canvas three times in a single round. Oscar De La Hoya battering Julio Caesar Chavez, and then, a decade later, Floyd Mayweather establishing his own dominance by outpointing “The Golden Boy.” In each case the loser soon retired with grace, legendary status intact, as the victor went on to cement his place in the pantheon of great fighters.
That’s what was supposed to happen when young superstar Ray “Boom Boom” Mancini faced former two time world champion Bobby Chacon, aka “The Schoolboy,” in 1984. Mancini was 22, already a champion, and ready to rule the lightweights for the rest of the decade. Chacon, a decade older and the veteran of clashes against fellow Hall of Famers Ruben Olivares, Danny Lopez and Alexis Arguello, was moving up in weight after a series of brutal championship bouts at 130 pounds, and could do very little to tarnish his legacy at this point. It was a classic fight to cement Mancini as the new star, and to allow Chacon to leave the ranks with dignity.
But that is not what happened. While the in-ring action of Mancini vs Chacon was about what people expected, it actually marked the last time either man did what the boxing script said he should.
On the night, Mancini was clearly the bigger man. While Chacon looked narrow and had little tone in his upper body, Ray looked like he’d been carved from marble by a renaissance sculptor. In fairness, Chacon had appeared the smaller man in many of his fights before going on to win, but that’s one thing when a boxer is in his ascendancy, and another when he’s on his way down.
Despite his granite chin, everyone knew Bobby would have to stay off the ropes to have a chance against the powerful Mancini, and for much of the opening round that’s what he did. But then Mancini shoved Chacon out of a clinch and onto the ropes and he then kept the challenger on the back foot for the rest of the frame. Within a minute of round two, Bobby was cornered again and taking a beating from Mancini, ducking and slipping the best he could, but the blows were connecting for the champion, and even the Chacon fans in the stands could see their man was out-gunned and over-matched.
The third was more of the same and at just over a minute into the round referee Richard Steele stopped the fight. It was an odd stoppage as Steele first stepped in to end it, but then saw Chacon throw another punch and let things go for a few more moments before finally bringing the one-sided ordeal to a halt. Nonetheless, no one watching could have doubted a Mancini victory would be the eventual outcome, and Steele undoubtedly acted in the best interests of the bleeding Chacon. As he wrapped his arms around the defeated man, Bobby said, “Thank you.”
So the fight went according to plan, as did the post-fight quotes where Mancini called Chacon his hero, and Bobby said with his characteristic grin, “Ray, we were supposed to be friends. How come you beat me up?” Mancini smiled and replied, “Just business, Bobby. Just business.” It seemed as though the torch had been passed.
Boxing, though, is a strange trade. Chacon would actually fight on for another four years and, unlike most fighters who go on past their primes, he won every bout. He never fought top contenders again, but he beat Freddie Roach and former champion Arturo Frias. In a way, Chacon became the typical fighter who stayed on too long, unable to recover squandered winnings or quit the only life he’d ever known—except that somehow he avoided the ignominious losses so many former champions suffer. The only thing that happened to him which one might expect was the onset of pugilistic dementia, which severely affected him until his death in 2016.
But Mancini took an even stranger path. Though he appeared ready to begin a legendary career, he never won another fight. In his next bout he lost his title to Livingstone Bramble, then lost a rematch, and then retired for four years. The reason was, of course, that Mancini had never really gotten over his infamous fight with Duk Koo Kim in 1982. In that unforgettable clash, Mancini prevailed in a grueling slugfest, knocking his brave challenger out in round 14; Kim collapsed in the ring and days later died in hospital. The tragic fight and its aftermath have since been documented in the excellent book The Good Son and the subsequent documentary film of the same name.
Any boxing fan understood that Kim’s death wasn’t Mancini’s fault, that all boxers know and accept the risks when stepping into the ring. There had been no foul play in the match, and while it was Mancini’s punches that caused Kim’s mortal damage, none were thrown out of malice. That fight, too, was just business.
Nonetheless, Mancini couldn’t shake his depression despite his successful return to the sport—Chacon was his fourth opponent after Kim—and jocular exchanges with his defeated hero. Underneath, the darkness of what he’d done a few years before lay undiminished. It took him decades, and eventually a meeting with Duk Koo Kim’s son, to be at peace again. In the end, despite both Chacon and Mancini being elected to the Hall of Fame, it’s Ray’s dark journey that sparks people’s imaginations even today, while outside of boxing circles Chacon was largely forgotten until his death—a tragic story in its own right.
Mancini and Chacon at the post-fight press conference.
In 1987, Warren Zevon wrote a song called “Boom Boom Mancini,” about Ray and his life, his wars with Arguello and Kim, and the Chacon fight anchors the chorus:
“Hurry home early, hurry on home.
Boom Boom Mancini’s fighting Bobby Chacon.”
That sums up the odd narrative that followed Mancini vs Chacon. With everything these two fighters endured in the years after, it was Mancini who remained in people’s minds. No doubt that had much to do with the story of his life, his storybook quest to fulfill his father’s ambition to be a world champion, along with his exciting battles against Arguello and Frias, but it no doubt also had something to do with that savage fight with Kim and a death in the ring. I’m sure Ray would rather it have been different, but nonetheless he got the song, and Bobby Chacon only got one line.
A good documentary about Ray Mancini, in this documentary he meets Duk Koo Kim's grown son 3 and it helps him to find peace with the tragedy 30 years after it happened.
Always loved Mancini as a fighter though, a balls to the wall fighter, action packed, his philosophy was to always be moving forward and punching, and it made for some great fights.
For those that say the fighters from yesterday couldn't hang with today's guys, I say you're an idiot. Today's fighters would not want to see Carmen Basilio standing across the ring from them. The man was hard as nails.
Carmen Basilio was nicknamed "the onion farmer" or "the onion picker", he was about as savage as a man can get in this sport, he could take unimaginable brutality as well as give it, he was as hard as diamond inside the ring, but he was as nice and honorable as can be outside of it. He stood up to the mob boss Frankie Carbo and even testified against him, Basilio was fearless. As a fighter, he applied vicious pressure to his opponents, and bombarded them with a relentless assault to the head and body, he could hit you with any kind of punch from any angle. He is a legend in this sport that was involved in some of the bloodiest and brutal fights in the history of boxing. His fights won fight of the year honors for five straight years, a record yet to be matched, and Carmen Basilio is pretty much the reason the boxing hall of fame was created. This article was written right after he passed away.
A TRIBUTE TO CARMEN BASILIO
On every imaginable level, Basilio’s life and career were defined by hard work, perseverance, substance and character. Born on April 2, 1927 in Canastota, N.Y., Basilio worked the onion fields with his nine siblings beginning at age five. The years of toil helped develop the man Basilio would become, both physically and emotionally.
Though the adult Basilio stood just 5-6¾, he sported amazingly powerful shoulders and legs, which, in turn, provided the leverage for his deadly left hook. The hook’s effect was enhanced by the fact that this natural southpaw fought from a right-handed stance, which positioned Basilio’s stronger hand a few inches closer to the target. Sure, he didn’t have a great knockout percentage (27 KOs in his 56-16-7 record), but Basilio was capable of putting a world of hurt on anyone who stepped inside the ring with him.
While the farm work molded his physique, it also honed the tenacity that defined his career. The craggy-faced New Yorker was the epitome of an “honest fighter.” He squeezed out the very best of himself in every fight, which enabled him to achieve heights that lesser men with identical tools would have done. The mental fortitude forged in his youth served him well during his stint in the Marines, and following his honorable discharge in 1948 he began his professional boxing career.
Basilio hardly enjoyed a fairy tale start; in fact he was 28-10-4 in his first 42 fights. However, Basilio not only learned from his mistakes, he executed those lessons by beating several men who had inflicted previous blemishes. A draw and a split decision loss to Johnny Cunningham in fights one and three were answered by a second-round KO and an eight-round win in fights two and four and in back-to-back fights with Gaby Ferland staged 26 days apart in April and May 1950 he answered a 10-round draw in fight one with a first round KO in the rematch.
Basilio really didn’t begin to find his stride until the fall of 1952. Following a 10-round loss to Billy Graham, Basilio won seven consecutive fights, the best of which came against former lightweight king Ike Williams (KO 7) and Graham (W 12) for the New York state welterweight title. A 12-round draw with Graham 49 days later confirmed that Basilio had come a long way since Graham, a 113-fight veteran, out-boxed him 11 months earlier.
That showing vaulted him into his first shot at the welterweight title less than two months later against the formidable Kid Gavilan and it was here that Basilio introduced himself to the boxing world at large. In round two Basilio floored Gavilan for only the second time in his 112-fight career and was ahead on all cards after six rounds. “The Keed” found his rhythm in the second half of the fight but the split decision for Gavilan still was lustily booed by the throng at Syracuse’s War Memorial Auditorium. From that point forward, Basilio would be a fixture on the championship scene.
Securing a second title shot – which should have been a given after his stirring performance against Gavilan – proved a most difficult task because Basilio stood his ground against the mob-backed International Boxing Club. He served as a prosecution witness against Frankie Carbo during Carbo’s trial in the early 1960s, after which Carbo was sentenced to 25 years. The loss of time, money and opportunity was profound but Basilio held firm to his integrity and in the end he won. His battle and eventual triumph over the IBC was documented in an ESPN film “Fighting the Mob: The Story of Carmen Basilio.” It is ironic that the boy whose love of boxing was sparked by Primo Carnera’s heavyweight title reign would grow up to be a man who took on the very mob that controlled “Da Preem’s” career.
While continuing his battle outside the ring, he succeeded inside it. He went 12-0-2 in his next 14 fights before meeting freshly minted welterweight champion Tony DeMarco, who just 70 days earlier dethroned the mob-backed Johnny Saxton by 14th-round TKO to capture the crown. Before his hometown fans at Syracuse’s War Memorial Auditorium, Basilio made good on his second chance by stopping DeMarco in the 12th.
The rematch with DeMarco was staged five months later in the challenger’s home town of Boston. While Basilio retained the title in a fight that lasted just two seconds longer than the original, the most memorable moment was one that featured Basilio in crisis. Late in the seventh round DeMarco slammed Basilio with his signature left hook, a punch responsible for most of the ex-champ’s 30 knockouts in 47 wins. Most mortals would have been pole-axed by the blow but the stricken Basilio refused to yield. His legs buckled, wobbled and reeled but never folded. That miracle was followed by another as Basilio somehow weathered the fusillade of blows that rained on him for the remainder of the round.
“I got hit on the point of the chin,” Basilio told author Peter Heller inIn This Corner: Forty World Champions Tell Their Stories. “It was a left hook that hit the right point of my chin. What happens is it pulls your jawbone out of your socket from the right side and jams into the left side and the nerve there paralyzed the whole left side of my body, especially my leg. My left knee buckled and I almost went down, but when I got back to my corner the bottom of my foot felt like it had needles about six inches high and I just kept stamping my foot on the floor, trying to bring it back. And by the time the bell rang for the eighth round it was all right.” The vivid and honest description of his duress was typical of the man, as was the fact he pulled himself up from that crisis and went on to win the fight.
The pulsating battle was deemed THE RING’s Fight of the Year in 1955. In fact, from 1955 to 1959 – a yet-to-be-matched five consecutive years – Basilio was involved in the year’s best fight according to THE RING.
George Foreman and Arturo Gatti came the closest to duplicating Basilio’s feat by engaging in four Fights of the Year in a five-year and six-year stretch respectively while Tony Zale and Rocky Marciano were honored in three consecutive years. But in terms of providing consistently exciting fights that earned subsequent year-end honors, Basilio stands alone.
Basilio lost the welterweight title in March 1956 to Johnny Saxton in a verdict most believe was mob influenced. But Basilio got his revenge six months later by stopping Saxton in nine rounds, a fight that earned 1956 Fight of the Year honors from THE RING.
After Basilio crushed Saxton in two rounds and Harold Jones in four, Basilio took a leap of faith by challenging middleweight champion Sugar Ray Robinson, who stood four-and-a-half inches taller, sported a far longer reach and possessed otherworldly skills – even at age 36.
Basilio entered the Robinson fight with a burning hatred for the “Sugar Man” because of their first meeting in 1953 shortly after beating Graham for the state welterweight title. Basilio was walking down Broadway when he spotted Robinson and his entourage approaching from the other direction. Feeling they were brothers by profession, he approached Robinson and introduced himself. What he got back infuriated him – for life.
“He gave me a brush-off, and I lost my respect for him right then and there,” he recalled years later. “People come up to speak to you, you have to be happy because it’s people that make you what you are. He was an arrogant guy.”
Basilio channeled that anger into supreme aggression when they met face-to-face four years later in Yankee Stadium, and at one point in round 11 he unleashed nearly three dozen unanswered blows. After lifting the title via split decision Basilio became just the third reigning welterweight champion to capture middleweight honors (Tommy Ryan and Robinson were the others). Of course, Basilio-Robinson I was chosen THE RING’s 1957 Fight of the Year.
The rematch on March 25, 1958 was the next fight for both men and once again Basilio was perceived as the underdog. One famous interview with Howard Cosell perfectly captured Basilio’s defiance in the face of doubt. Cosell informed Basilio that he had just polled 10 sports writers for their prediction and that nine of them had chosen Robinson by knockout. When Cosell asked for Basilio’s reaction, the proud ex-farm hand had the definitive answer – “nine of ’em are wrong!” Cosell could no nothing but chuckle.
As was the case six months earlier, the action was savage and compelling. Both men had to deal with adversities beyond just the brutal combat – Robinson was suffering from flu-like symptoms while a sixth-round right uppercut ruptured a blood vessel over Basilio’s left eye.
“I got stupid that night,” Basilio told Heller. “He kept throwing a right uppercut at me that night. He never quit. Like, a lot of times you’ll throw a punch at a guy two or three times and if you don’t get away with it you’ll quit using it. He threw it at me five times. He knew that I bobbed and weaved and he tried to catch me going down in a bob-and-weave. He’d throw it, I’d go down, I’d catch his right uppercut with my right hand, and I’d counter him with a left hook because he was wide open for it. I did it four times. The fifth time he threw it at me and I saw it coming. I missed it with my hand and it went past my hand, hit me right in the eyebrow and broke the blood vessels and blew my eyelid up. My eye shut.”
Did it ever. Long before the 15-round distance had run its course Basilio’s orb was an ugly, purple mess that was shut drum-skin tight.
The pain that coursed through Basilio’s face every time Robinson landed a punch on it must have been immense but the tenacious Basilio continued to fight through it and nearly came out of the ring with his belt. Basilio prevailed on referee Frank Sikora’s card (69-66) but Sikora was overruled by judges John Bray (71-64) and Franklin McAdams (72-64). With the victory, Robinson gained the middleweight championship for a record fifth time while Basilio had to be satisfied with yet another Fight of the Year award.
Basilio rebounded with victories over Art Aragon (KO 8) and Arley Seifer (KO 3) to earn a crack at the vacant NBA middleweight title against Gene Fullmer, a bull-strong Utah native who rivaled Basilio in terms of ruggedness. But Fullmer pulled off a strategic bait-and-switch that no one, much less Basilio, could have seen coming. Instead of going toe-to-toe, Fullmer chose to stick and move – and he did it quite well. Basilio never was able to draw a bead on Fullmer but the effort he put forth during his 14th round TKO loss was worthy enough to win his fifth straight Fight of the Year honor.
Basilio lost the rematch Fullmer 10 months later – this time by 12th-round TKO – and after 10-round decision victories over Gaspar Ortega and Don Jordan the 34-year-old New Yorker came up short in his final title challenge against Paul Pender, who won a lopsided 15-round decision on April 22, 1961. Basilio said he was badly hampered by a pulled muscle in his left shoulder, which prevented him from throwing his vaunted hook. He announced his retirement shortly thereafter.
Although Basilio hung up the gloves, it didn’t stop him from utilizing his fabled work ethic. He taught physical education at Le Moyne College in Syracuse for 21 years and worked for Rochester’s Genesee Brewing Co. for years after that. He also served as chief second to nephew Billy Backus, who scored his own title fight upset by beating welterweight king Jose Napoles on cuts in the very building Basilio won his championship 15 years earlier.
But Basilio’s greatest post-career legacy was yet to come.
In 1984 the residents of Canastota honored Basilio and Backus by dedicating statues depicting them in fighting poses. That, in turn, encouraged townspeople, particularly Ed Brophy, to explore the possibility of creating boxing’s first Hall of Fame and museum. That dream became a reality in 1989 during the ribbon-cutting ceremony and one year later Basilio was part of the initial IBHOF class that included Muhammad Ali, Joe Louis, Henry Armstrong, Rocky Marciano, Archie Moore, Carlos Monzon, Willie Pep, Sandy Saddler, Jose Napoles and old foes Sugar Ray Robinson, Ike Williams and Kid Gavilan.
For the next two decades Basilio was a fixture at the annual induction weekend and he often was introduced by emcee Joey Fiatto as “the reason why we are all here.” All the while Basilio never lost the common touch. He signed autographs until the very last person was satisfied and he treated those with whom he interacted as equals. He loved to playfully poke bystanders in the ribs just to see how they would react. Seeing it was Basilio, they deferred to his greatness and laughed with him.
That was just one part of Basilio’s human side. Another was how he looked out for his friends.
When Tony DeMarco’s son died in a car accident in 1975, Basilio traveled to Boston to attend the funeral and give support to his onetime rival. DeMarco was touched by Basilio’s kindness during his time of grief and the two remained friends for life. For years they appeared together at the IBHOF induction weekend, including in 2005 when they celebrated the 50th anniversary of their two classic fights. Basilio and Fullmer also were friendly rivals, and during one of the induction weekend’s early years they climbed into the ring for a joke-filled boxing exhibition.
Basilio’s appearances at the IBHOF weekend were sporadic in the final few years as his resilient body finally bowed to the ravages of time. His spirit, however, never left the festivities.
The past 12 months have been devastating in terms of the legends boxing has lost. It’s almost impossible to fathom that former heavyweight champion Joe Frazier’s death occurred exactly one year before Basilio’s and that Basilio’s trainer Angelo Dundee would follow in February. Writer and historian Bert Randolph Sugar passed away in March, Johnny Tapia in May, Teofilo Stevenson in June and Jimmy Bivins in July. Other boxing figures such as Corrie Sanders, Don Fullmer and 1956 Olympic gold medalist Terry Spinks have left our midst and those who love the sport are still mourning Steward’s passing.
Basilio’s death is yet another reminder of the fragility and temporary nature of life. Many accurately say that life is occasionally unfair but one thing is beyond question: Death is, has been and always will be undiscriminating. Those who know Basilio and those who know of him can take comfort that he achieved a lot in his 85 years. He more than lived up to the fighter’s code inside the ring, but more importantly he more than lived up to the code of humanity outside it.
Like I said, Carmen Basilio was in some of the most apocalyptic fights this sport has ever seen. He fought Tony DeMarco twice, DeMarco was nicknamed the "Boston Bomber" because he was from Boston and could punch like hell. Their two fights were bloodbaths. Here are round by round accounts of both of their fights.
Carmen Basilio catches Tony DeMarco with a vicious right
THE DEMARCO BASILIO WARS
Tony DeMarco after briefly celebrating a moment of victory won in his hometown of Boston, the new champion had to comply with his contract to defend his title against the number one ranked contender. That contender was Carmen Basilio and he was on on his second campaign for welterweight glory.
Tony DeMarco versus Carmen Basilio Undisputed World Welterweight Championship 10.06.1955
Born Carmine Basilio on 2nd April 1927 in Canastota, New York, USA, Carmen Basilio was one of nine siblings. Aged just five, he joined his family to work the onion fields and hence his ring nickname “The Upstate Onion Farmer”. Basilio would always credit his early life of hard work as being what helped build up his character of fortitude and resilience as well as his physical fitness. A lot of attention was paid to the powerful shoulders he developed during those early years. His family were all lovers of boxing and Basilio drew inspiration from fellow Italian, the once world heavyweight champion, Primo Carnera. Basilio’s father bought him and all his siblings boxing gloves. He earned a place on the high school boxing team and would later tell Dave Lamele in an interview, “That’s the only reason I went to high school, because they had that boxing team. Without that I wouldn’t have gone.” After being honourably discharged from the Marine Corps he fought as an amateur for one year before turning professional in 1948. Basilio won his first four fights, the first three by knockout. He then drew on points with Johnny Cunningham and Jimmy Parlin. His eleventh fight saw his first loss to Connie Thies. He would also lose his sixteenth fight to Johnny Cunningham who had previously beaten in their rematch via a second round knockout. The two would immediately fight a fourth time, this time Basilio won on points.
Basilio began campaigning outside of New York to build up his record and reputation in a bid to get a contender position for the world welterweight title. He fought in Chicago, New Orleans, Pennsylvania, Florida and Ohio. He beat former world champion Ike Williams with a seventh round knockout and a trilogy of fights with top contender, Billy Graham, losing the first time, winning the second and drawing the third. These popular fights got him noticed and won him the New York State Welterweight title. None of his 10 losses over his first 50 fights ended in a knockout, but he won 16 of them that way.
Basilio got his first shot at world welterweight title in 1953. It was his fifty-first fight and would be his eleventh defeat. He lost a split decision to the reigning champion of the time, Kid Gavilan. This was despite the fact he had hurt Gavilan in the second round and then knocked him down near the end of the round with his lethal left hook. The Kid had struggled to make the count. This was only the second time Gavilan had been knocked down (the first time had been by Ike Williams). He was one of only a few world champions never to be knocked out. The audience were behind Basilio and Gavilan’s verdict was greeted by boos despite the obvious facial damage sported by Basilio. Everyone at ringside believed the champion had swung the fight back in his favour after round 2 winning the fight by a small margin.
Basilio’s biggest battle was against the mob. It seemed rather ironic that the man who was inspired by one of the mob’s most notoriously managed fighters, Primo Carnera, would become known as their most stubborn boxing adversary. He was ranked the number one contender for the world welterweight title for two years without being granted a shot and five years later would speak as a witness for the prosecution against the International Boxing Club. His war with them would later be made into a ESPN documentary, “Fighting the Mob: The Story of Carmen Basilio.”
After his fight with Gavilan he won another fight against his old rival Johnny Cunningham, drew against Pierre Langlois and Italo Scortichini, before beating them both in rematches immediately afterwards within the space of four weeks. He then won his next six fights as Johnny Saxton’s mafia management tried to side-step him. They took a wrong gamble with fellow Italian Tony DeMarco who they believed Saxton could confidently out-box. Knowing he wouldn’t get Saxton, Basilio had nevertheless got DeMarco to sign a contract to say he would fight him 70 days later should he win the title. When DeMarco stopped an overwhelmed Saxton in round 14, Basilio had secured his second shot at the welterweight crown.
Basilio stood at 5′ 6 1/2″. Basilio was a pressure fighter, a swarmer with an iron chin. He had a determined and relentless style that promised a blood and guts duel with the classical slugger that was DeMarco. Basilio suffered to cut weight, going without water for a day to get down to 146 lbs to DeMarco’s 145 lbs. Like DeMarco, Basilio was a converted southpaw and they both shared the same best weapon: the left hook. The legendary coach, Angelo Dundee was Basilio’s cornerman but the “Upstate Onion Farmer” always prided himself on being self-trained.
The match took place at War Memorial Auditorium, Syracuse, New York.
The early rounds went DeMarco. Nevertheless, Basilio had a strong long game plan. Early on in round one we saw Basilio drop his left to invite DeMarco to come forward. Despite being a swarmer he used his reach advantage to goad DeMarco forward.
Round 3 – DeMarco came out early with his best punch, the left hook that stunned Basilio. The challenger clinched to clear his head and then there were back to fighting in the pocket as their styles dictated. Basilio used a lot of bobbing and weaving to make DeMarco miss. Here Basilio set up the timing for DeMarco to keep missing.
Round 4 – Basilio kept the work rate up and continued to try to goad DeMarco to punch himself out. However, by the end of this round the champion’s lead hand punches (his dominant hand) were landing.
Round 5 – DeMarco put more pressure on and was ahead on points. This might have been down to the fact that Basilio kept giving DeMarco room. Basilio landed some good shots to the body towards the end of the round. His strikes to the side were also taking the toll on the champion.
Round 6 -DeMarco continued to land body shaking punches, but he was unable to land a powerful combination that was more likely to put Basilio down. Again, Basilio’s swarming strengths weren’t being played due to DeMarco, despite being a slugger, having the shorter range. With the punch trading, DeMarco was winning but Basilio was still breaking the champion’s posture.
Round 8 – Basilio used his jab to reasonable effect but DeMarco came back with some thundering rights. This time DeMarco began to land body shots and one clearly hurt the challenger. As they came in close Basilio leaned in and began winning the exchanges.
Round 9 – DeMarco was still ahead but keen to get a knockout. He began to miss more frequently and Basilio routinely went to the body to good effect.
Round 10 – Cut over the right eye, DeMarco came out visibly tired and on the back foot. Basilio’s plan was working and he dropped the champion after a brief attempt by the champion to regroup. The challenger sent DeMarco down again with another overhand right within seconds of the Bomber getting back into the fight. DeMarco rose again showing tremendous heart. The bell rang and saved DeMarco from more punishment that he was willingly wading into.
Round 11 – After the doctor cleared DeMarco, the champion came out keen to put the challenger down. However, he was still extremely tired and Basilio was eager fight on the inside. Basilio leant in and landed a range of punches. Finally, one of DeMarco’s bombs landed with good effect. Still, it was not enough to put Basilio down and the two traded at close range.
Round 12 -Fighting in the centre of the ring, Basilio kept picking his shots as DeMarco missed with punches. Finally, the referee step in to save DeMarco from more punishment.
The title changed hands yet again and Carmen Basilio became the new World Welterweight champion.
Carmen Basilio versus Tony DeMarco II Undisputed World Welterweight Championship 30.11.1955
After the fight Basilio took a non-title match against Italo Scortichini again and won by unanimous decision. This was followed by a non-title najority decision over Gil Turner. He then returned to Boston to defend his title for the first time against its previous holder. The fight was held at the location where DeMarco had first won the title from Saxton, Boston Garden. DeMarco had fought once since losing the belt where he knocked out Chico Vejar in the first round at the same venue. DeMarco was attempting what no one had done since Barney Ross in 1935: win back the world welterweight title.
13,373 turned out to watch the rematch. Despite Basilio’s stoppage in the previous fight, ESPN reported that “the local betting gentry was so sure that DeMarco would regain his crown that they had put their money where their faith was, bringing the prefight odds down to 6-5, pick ’em.” Tony DeMarco entered the fight with a record of 47-6-1 and Carmen Basilio was 47-11-7. The theory was that DeMarco had simply run out of steam after round seven from the previous fight and up to the that point had been battering Basilio. He was also by far the harder puncher with his recent one round defeat of Vejar offering evidence to this effect. Both men had won 47 fights, but 30 of DeMarcos had come via knockout whereas Basilio had one 21 this way. DeMarco’s previous performance against the champion had been put down to the fact he had been forced to take fight so soon after winning it from Saxton. However, a bigger deciding factor for both this fights might have been revealed by the fact that whereas both men had undeniably iron chins, DeMarco had been stopped twice in his career whereas Basilio, despite losing and drawing more matches than his opponent, had never been stopped and only been knocked down once in his career.
We didn’t have footage of rounds 1, 2, 3 and 4, but this is what I have gleaned from reports on the fight:
Round 1 was DeMarco’s. He came out with a plan to stick and move more rather than be pulled into the trenches. He came with confidence and won the round, firing off two left hooks and a hard straight right just before the bell. Round 2 had seen more of a fast-paced slugfest with DeMarco going for the head and Basilio aiming for the body. Basilio changed his punches to upstairs, cutting DeMarco over his left eye and also breaking his own left hand. Round 3 saw Basilio take the fight to DeMarco as he tried to compensate for the loss of his left hook’s potency with hard rights to the head and body. Despite shaking the champion with a four-punch combination, DeMarco kept missing the bobbing swarmer who took round 3.
Round 4 – We picked up the action here. The tide of the fight appeared to be reversed in round 4 as DeMarco, possibly sensing a weakness in Basilio’s attacks, unleashed his heavy punches to the champion’s head. After some uncharacteristic caution being shown by both fighters at the beginning both landed hard right hooks bringing a cheer from the audience. Basilio aimed for the body and DeMarco stayed high. DeMarco’s best punch, the left hook, staggered Basilio three feet back into the ropes. The champion recovered quickly and waded back into the fray. With just under a minute left DeMarco caught Basilio with yet another stinging punch walking him onto a straight right. The champion now wore a slight cut over his right eye. Basilio showed some good head movement and landed a few hooks but DeMarco won the round, landing his own just before the bell.
Round 5 – DeMarco appeared to abandon the stick and move plan by keeping to the pace he set in the previous round. He head-hunted the champion landing left/right and right/left combinations that brought cheers from the crowd. Towards the end of the round, DeMarco’s keeness to knock out Basilio soon was demontrated by some stance switching where he walked across the ring landing his rights. Basilio muffled the attacks and continued to throw punches to his opponent’s mid-section. As the bell went he was still wading in, determined to turn back the tide. Later Basilio would say that he felt DeMarco’s punches were losing their sting. However, this would not align with what we would see in round 6 and especially 7.
Round 6 – The round opened with both fights placing shots and find their range. Early on a brief exchange where Basilio went to the body DeMarco landed two left hooks. Basilio tied up the challenger and dug in with more right hooks. He flicked out his left, disguising the damage but now visibly not using it as a power hand. He also used his right over-hook and lean on DeMarco, probably to wear him down. For all of Basilio’s decent amount of head movement, he did not show a lot of intelligent protection at this point. DeMarco continued to land heavy punches on his open chin. A welt began to emerge under the champion’s left eye.
Round 7 – Two minutes of the round saw a lot of caution and jab exchanging. Basilio tied up DeMarco a few times and DeMarco, now appearing to be slower, kept throwing large overhand rights. Basilio ducked and rolled low allowing the challenger’s punches to sail harmlessly over. At around the 30 second mark Basilio tried to rely on landing a right, but DeMarco caught his opponent with his signature left hook. The champion’s legs were shakey and DeMarco, smelling blood, steamed in with his usual torrent of finishing blows. Angelo Dundee called from Basilio’s corner to take the knee for an 8-count to rest. However, the champion surprised everyone by being able to weather the storm for the remainder of the round and rolled to avoid around 15 power shots. “I got hit on the point of the chin,” he would explain to author Peter Heller in “In This Corner: Forty World Champions Tell Their Stories”, “It was a left hook that hit the right point of my chin. What happens is it pulls your jawbone out of your socket from the right side and jams into the left side and the nerve there paralyzed the whole left side of my body, especially my leg. My left knee buckled and I almost went down, but when I got back to my corner the bottom of my foot felt like it had needles about six inches high and I just kept stamping my foot on the floor, trying to bring it back. And by the time the bell rang for the eighth round it was all right.”
Round 8 – Basilio could be seen stamping his feet, as described, on his stool just as the bell rang. DeMarco was ahead on the scorecards now but continued to resort landing big punches. With little setups in sight and further emboldened by the knockout he could taste in the previous round, the challenger resorted to throw continuous power shots. Similar to their previous fight, the shorter armed DeMarco was adopting a swarmer’s style of fighting. The problem here was these were the punches of a slugger and every time he missed he wasted more power. He may have been called the “Miniature Marciano”, but he lacked Rocky’s footwork that enabled him to better corner opponents and drove the relentless pressure. Furthermore, he wasn’t a natural swarmer. This was Basilio’s domain and proof that DeMarco’s power was waning was demonstrated when finally a good right hit Basilio’s head. The champion shook it off and then did well to roll away from the others as well as tie up the challenger.
Round 9 – DeMarco’s right eye had a cut above it and his corner worked hard to stem the flow. The challenger still looked the steadier of the two fighters. He was still ahead on the scorecards and his hometown was behind him. However, his big haymaker sweeps kept meeting air before Basilio closed the distance with his shoulder and muffled the slowing onslaught. DeMarco began using his left to set a datum, as before, for a big overhand that missed by a mile.
Round 10 – Cut over the right eye, DeMarco came out visibly tired and on the back foot. Basilio’s plan was working and he dropped the champion after a brief attempt by the champion to regroup. The challenger sent DeMarco down again with another overhand right within seconds of the Bomber getting back into the fight. DeMarco rose again showing tremendous heart. The bell rang and saved DeMarco from more punishment that he was willingly wading into.
Round 11 – After the doctor cleared DeMarco, the champion came out keen to put the challenger down. However, he was still extremely tired and Basilio was eager fight on the inside. Basilio leant in and landed a range of punches. Finally, one of DeMarco’s bombs landed with good effect. Still, it was not enough to put Basilio down and the two traded at close range.
Round 12 -Fighting in the centre of the ring, Basilio kept picking his shots as DeMarco missed with punches. Finally, the referee steps in to save DeMarco from more punishment.
The rematch lasted just two seconds longer than the first one. DeMarco was still standing when the referee stepped in but he collapsed to the canvas a few seconds later and did not get up for close to two minutes.
Ring Magazine awarded the DeMarco/Basilio World Welterweight Championship rematch Fight of the Year for 1955. Basilio’s fights would win this accolade five times in a row. Although Muhammad Ali would beat the total number of fights by one, no other fighter has been involved in as many consecutive fights to have won this award. Basilio would also win Fighter of the Year in 1957.
Carmen Basilio fought Sugar Ray Robinson twice, both fights were apocalyptic. In their first fight, Carmen Basilio upset Sugar Ray Robinson and took his middleweight crown. The first fight itself is beautiful. Non-stop, fast-paced action, as Robinson works his jab expertly throughout, but Basilio just keeps pressing, bobbing, weaving, always aggressive. In the late rounds they’re both exhausted, but they keep fighting at a savage pace right to the end, neither of them backing down. It’s exciting to see the two men taking themselves beyond the limit, working from some weird otherplace of honour and mutual respect. They just never let up. It was a difficult match to score, because they were both fighting at close quarters for most of it and at a furious pace, both throwing and catching, slipping and blocking. In the end, the cards read 9-5-1 Basilio, 9-6-1 Robinson, and 8-6-1 Basilio, giving the rough and tumble onion farmer the middleweight crown. In the rematch, Sugar Ray Robinson regained his middleweight crown and the fight produced some of the most famous boxing photos of all-time, the image of Carmen Basilio sitting in his dressing room with the swollen eye.
CARMEN BASILIO-SUGAR RAY ROBINSON 2: WARFARE NEVER TO BE SEEN AGAIN
A lot has happened in boxing over the past 63 years. Much change has been initiated. Where once there were eight classic weight divisions with one universally accepted world champion in each, there are now 17 divisions, with four self-important “major” sanctioning bodies asserting that their alphabetized titleholders are the true claimants to such a designation. Some of today’s champs, particularly elite ones, get paid much more to fight far less often than their predecessors. Enhanced safety standards have led to the abolishment of 15-round title bouts with 12-rounders now in their stead, and bouts in which a particular fighter is deemed to be absorbing too much punishment are stopped much more quickly than had been the case in past generations.
In light of those developments, what happened the night of March 25, 1958, in Chicago Stadium is a prime example of what used to be but no longer is, a historically significant event perhaps beyond replication. The legendary Sugar Ray Robinson’s 15-round split decision win over defending middleweight ruler Carmen Basilio elevated him to dominion over the 160-pound weight class for the fifth time, a record that now seems as unreachable to current practitioners of the pugilistic arts as is Archie Moore’s long-standing and incredible stockpile of 132 knockout victories.
Perhaps as notable as the original Sugar Ray’s cha-cha of bejeweled middleweight belts won and lost or relinquished was the sight of the valiant Basilio in his first and only defense of that title. Fighting from the sixth round on with a massive, purplish hematoma on his totally closed left eye, the undersized “Upstate Onion Farmer,” the inspiration for the establishment of the International Boxing Hall of Fame in his hometown of Canastota, New York, went toe-to-toe with Robinson for nine-plus rounds with his vision severely restricted by something that resembled a rotting eggplant.
Robinson and Basilio had set the stage for what was justifiably named The Ring’s 1958 Fight of the Year by engaging in a virtually identical blood-and-guts showdown six months earlier in Yankee Stadium. Basilio, the reigning welterweight champion, had lifted Sugar Ray’s crown on, natch, another 15-round split decision that was fraught with excitement and two-way action. That fight, which took place on September 23, 1957, also was anointed as The Ring’s Fight of the Year. But if Robinson’s collection of five undisputed middleweight championships seems remarkable, and it does, consider this: action hero Basilio was a participant in The Bible of Boxing’s FOY for five years inclusive, from 1955 through ’59, the others being knockouts of Tony DeMarco (1955) and Johnny Saxton (1956) in rematches, and a knockout loss to Gene Fullmer (1959) in the first of their two matchups.
In legend and lore, Jake LaMotta is often recited as Robinson’s most memorable opponent, but that largely owes to the fact they squared off six times, so frequently that Jake liked to quip that “I fought Sugar Ray so often it’s a wonder I don’t have diabetes.” But had there been a rubber match involving Robinson and Basilio, and particularly if it was another thrill-fest as were the first two meetings, that arch-rivalry in triplicate might now rank alongside the Holy Trinity of boxing that is Muhammad Ali vs. Joe Frazier.
“He wouldn’t give me a rematch. He knew I won,” Basilio, who was 85 when he died on November 7, 2012, frequently complained, the inference being that Sugar Ray had had much of what remained of his ring sweetness drained from him by the punishment he had taken over 30 rounds of intense combat with a relentless, undiscouraged attacker who, in a manner of speaking, played the role of an early Smokin’ Joe to Robinson’s Ali. It is not an unreasonable premise; two hours after he had his hand raised in victory, a dog-tired and well-pummeled Robinson had to be assisted to bed in his Chicago hotel suite.
“Even the soles of my feet hurt,” the man who arguably is the greatest prizefighter ever to lace up a pair of padded gloves said in a voice barely above a whisper.
And just as the defeated but defiant Frazier had boasted after the “Thrilla in Manila” ended with Joe’s compassionate trainer, Eddie Futch, not allowing his nearly blinded fighter to come out for the 15th round against an equally battered Ali, Basilio, his grotesquely swollen left eye notwithstanding, said, “I walked out under my own power. They had to carry (Robinson) out.”
Truth be told, the epic nature of the two Robinson-Basilio confrontations might have owed to the extremely high mileage on both fighters’ professional odometers, and particularly that of Sugar Ray, who was 36 when he went into the rematch with Carmen with a 140-6-2 record in a pro career launched in 1939. As impressive as that mark was, it is generally accepted that the man whose birth name was Walker Smith Jr. was always more spectacular as a welterweight than he was as a middleweight. Before he began dropping hints that he was merely mortal, after he returned to boxing after a three-year European sojourn as a song-and-dance man, Robinson had been 123-1-2. Among boxing immortals atop Mount Olympus, Sugar Ray reigned long as Zeus. But even gods of the ring are as susceptible to the natural laws of diminishing returns as the rest of us, and Robinson went into battle an almost incomprehensible 13 times in 1949, although his welterweight title was on the line only once during that span.
Robinson’s slide from on high to a place where indisputable greatness has been replaced by something less magnificent was never more evident than the night of January 19, 1955, when he dropped a shockingly one-sided, 10-round decision to capable gatekeeper Ralph “Tiger” Jones, also in Chicago Stadium. Writing in the New York Journal American, noted sports columnist Jimmy Cannon authored what he believed was Sugar Ray’s pugilistic obituary. “There is a language spoken on the face of the earth in which you can be kind when you tell a man he is old and should stop pretending he is young,” Cannon wrote. “Old fighters, who go beyond the limits of their age, resent it when you tell them they’re through … what he had is gone. The pride isn’t. The gameness isn’t. The insolent faith in himself is still there … but the pride and the gameness and that insolent faith get in the way. He was marvelous, but he isn’t anymore.”
Cannon’s epitaph for Robinson proved a bit premature. After the stinker vs. Jones, a rebounding Robinson won the middleweight title against Bobo Olson, lost it to Gene Fullmer, won it back from Fullmer on that picture-perfect left hook, lost it again to Basilio. For the grudge rematch – Basilio was respectful of Robinson the fighter, but openly resentful toward his haughty attitude toward upcoming opponents in contract negotiations – the new champ went off as an 8-5 favorite and was the pick of 21 of 34 on-site fight writers, despite the challenger’s obvious physical advantages. Robinson was 5’11” to Basilio’s 5’6½”, weighed in at 159¾ to Basilio’s 153½ and had a 72-inch reach. Basilio’s reach was not announced or recorded, but most estimates pegged it at three or four inches shy of Robinson’s.
Some of the media on hand to chronicle the event dusted off the Sugar Ray-is-done theme forwarded by Cannon two years earlier. Bill Lee, sports editor of the Hartford Courant, opined that “Robinson should have been washed up six or eight years ago. His speed is gone and perhaps his durability has died with the speed.”
Nor was the Chicago Tribune’s Bill Strickler impressed by what he had seen of Robinson after his narrow escape against Basilio, who might as well have fought with pirate’s eyepatch covering his grotesquely swollen left eye. In his post-fight report, Strickler wrote that the very best of Sugar Ray “is gone. The Robinson of today is just a good fighter, who flopped on his stool between rounds, arm weary and gasping, then had to be helped to his dressing room.
“From the opening round to the end, and especially thru (sic) the late stretches when Basilio got no rest between rounds as his seconds plied him with ice packs and medicines, Robinson resembled a man looking for something he could not find.”
Whether those harsh assessments of Robinson’s then-status were valid or not hardly seems the issue. He and the wounded Basilio had nonetheless again made magic inside the ropes, perhaps in part because they both had settled onto a more or less similar competitive plane, perhaps because what Basilio had elected to endure rose to the level of near-superhuman endurance.
Basilio was 64 when he recalled the fourth-round punch that almost instantly begun to close the eye, which was completely shut by Round 6. “(Robinson) had a vicious uppercut,” he said. “He threw that f—— punch five times. I blocked the first four but the fifth one got through. It cut a blood vessel and my eyelid just blew up. My (co-)manager, Joe Netro, wanted to stop the fight. I told him, `You stop this fight and you better not be in town when I get out of the ring.’”
Was the eye as agonizing as it must have appeared to be to the 17,976 in-house spectators, a CBS television audience and 350,000 or so purchasers of tickets to the closed-circuit telecasts at 114 sites around the United States and Canada?
“I was in excruciating pain,” Basilio confirmed. “I slept with an ice bag on it for two days. But it was OK. Right now I can see great out of this eye.”
Carmen Basilio, between rounds of his fight-of-the-year rematch with Sugar Ray Robinson, is the epitome of the blood-and-guts warrior.
Basilio’s corner team – trainer Angelo Dundee and co-managers Netro and Johnny De John – were criticized for allowing their guy to fight on in such a distressed condition, but Dundee’s decision not to lance the blood-gorged area between the fifth and sixth rounds with a sterile razor blade he had brought for just such a purpose might have proved a saving grace. Several days after the fight, Dr. Richard A. Perritt, an eye specialist at Wesley Memorial Hospital in Chicago, examined Basilio’s left eye after the swelling had gone down. He determined that the lancing of the hematoma might have resulted in infection of veins leading to Carmen’s brain, with cerebral thrombosis and permanent eye damage as possible results.
Although judges Spike McAdams (72-64) and John Bray (71-64) saw Robinson as the winner by fairly wide margins using the five-point must system then in effect, referee Frank Sikora had it 69-66 for Basilio, which might have been closer to the truth. Basilio-Robinson II was a close fight, and a terrific one, and something that never could happen now.
For a story I did on the first pairing of then-heavyweight champion Floyd Patterson and Swedish challenger Ingemar Johansson, which took place on June 26, 1959, in Yankee Stadium, Dr. Margaret Goodman – the Las Vegas-based neurologist and former chief ringside physician for the Nevada State Athletic Commission – pointed out that Ingo’s seven floorings of Patterson, all in the third round, are a relic from an era that has passed into history and isn’t coming around again.
“Seven knockdowns in one round are obviously excessive,” she stressed. “Thank goodness times have changed. The standard for the way things were handled back then were different. There was a greater likelihood of allowing a fighter to continue taking that kind of punishment. How horrible is that?”
Basilio’s display of agonizing one-eyed courage, like Patterson’s going to the canvas seven times in the same round, are just two examples of boxing’s evolution from its shadowy past into a more sanitized version of itself. So, too, is the likelihood that the powers that be would have denied the great Sugar Ray Robinson – who kept on keeping on until November 10, 1965, when he dropped a one-sided UD10 to Joey Archer in Pittsburgh – authorized approval to do so after it long since had become apparent that he was a shell of his former self, and not only physically. The king of the ring was just 67 when he breathed his last on April 12, 1989. By then the accumulated effect of 200 professional bouts (174-19-6, with one no-decision), not to mention 89 more as an amateur, had contributed to his being confined to a wheelchair, unable to recall details of his career or to recognize the faces of loved ones.
It is right and proper to celebrate what the fight game has gained in its inexorable march of progress, but it is also right to bemoan at least some of what has been lost. Robinson-Basilio II is just such a time-capsule heirloom.
Comments
Julian Jackson, "the hawk", middleweight. A lot of people consider him to be the hardest puncher in boxing history period, when he hit an opponent flush, the guy usually fell over like a chopped down tree. It was like he had bricks in his gloves, a lot of his knockouts were scary to watch, and it didn't matter which hand he hit you with. Some guys only carry power in their main hand, he had knockout power in both, and you were just never safe against him. Ring magazine has him listed at number 25 on the 100 hardest punchers list, I disagree with that ranking, he should be much higher.
Julian Jackson was a decent boxer with a pretty good chin, but everyone who watched him fight wanted to see him ice someone, that's the thing about hard punchers, you just can't look away from them when they fight, you want to see the fireworks explode.
BEST I’VE FACED: JULIAN JACKSON
An old boxing adage states that punchers are born, not made. That was certainly the case with Julian Jackson, one of the hardest hitters in modern boxing history.
During his outstanding career Jackson won world titles at junior middleweight and middleweight, first holding the WBA 154-pound belt before stepping up to 160 pounds where the Virgin Islander’s power was every bit as devastating. He held the WBC middleweight crown on two occasions.
“It’s something you are born with,” Jackson told RingTV.com when recounting the first time he knew he had fight-ending power. “I remember as an amateur and the first time I threw a punch was against a professional and I knocked him down. I was about 17 or 18 (years old). I caught him with a right hand. That was the first time I realized I had natural power.
“I always seemed to have that power punch in the bag. I felt the power and my coach said I don’t have to try to hit hard all I need to do is throw the punch because my natural ability would click in. I realized that and I really found out I had that punching ability much more than a lot of amateurs I grew up with and trained with.”
Jackson won his first 29 professional bouts, with only two opponents hearing the final bell, before challenging Mike McCallum for the WBA junior middleweight crown. Though Jackson hurt McCallum in the opening round of their August 1986 showdown it was his fellow Caribbean power-puncher that came out on top, stopping Jackson in the following round.
When McCallum vacated the title, “The Hawk” swooped in and won it, stopping future super middleweight titlist In-Chul Baek in three rounds. His vaunted power was further in evidence during his three title defences, all of which ended with violent one-punch knockout victories against former IBF boss Buster Drayton, teak tough Brazilian Francisco De Jesus and future four-time junior middleweight champion Terry Norris.
With little left to prove at 154 pounds, Jackson headed to middleweight. However, the British Boxing board of Control refused to sanction a WBC middleweight championship bout with Herol Graham in Britain because of previous retina damage Jackson had suffered, which kept him out of action for nearly a year. With that in mind the fight took place in at a hotel in Benalmadena, Spain. For much of the first four rounds Graham gave Jackson a boxing lesson. However, Jackson’s fight-ending power was once again in evidence when he dramatically stopped Graham, considered the best British fighter to never win a world title, with one shot in Round 4.
Jackson has fond memories of his first middleweight title bout.
“Of all my knockouts that was one of the most historic,” he said. “The fight was amazing. Herol was a very good fighter, fast as well; he was a big middleweight and he was getting to me.
“I got caught early in the fight, I think my right eye was swollen, the ref said if I don’t do something he’s going to stop the fight. I switched (stances) so I could see him with my left eye and I literally threw the right hook since I switched to southpaw and he came straight in figuring he got me and I realized the punch was there, he was open. He came in for the kill and that’s when I was able to get off my right hook and caught him flush on the chin.”
Jackson defended the title on four occasions before running into Gerald McClellan on a bumper bill in Las Vegas that also featured Lennox Lewis and Julio Cesar Chavez in separate bouts.
Jackson had his moments before McClellan struck in the fifth frame, ending the fight with his own vicious knockout.
“I would say even though I hit him, I caught him with some punches, especially body shots, it was effecting him,” said Jackson. “I didn’t get a chance to really get my punches off to the chin that I really wanted to. I felt that he was able to elude me and prevent me from getting off my punches to the head. That’s something they worked on. They decided if I get hit from Julian I’m probably going to get knocked out. It just happened that I got hit.”
Three victories followed to set up the rematch on Don King’s “Revenge: The Rematches” pay-per-view event a year later. Jackson was unable to redress the balance and was stopped midway through the opening round.
With his 34th birthday looming Jackson’s best days appeared to be behind him. However, according to another boxing adage, the last thing a fighter loses is his power.
When McClellan vacated the title to move up in weight Jackson was matched with Agostino Cardamone for the vacant title.
Jackson recovered from being hurt in the opening stanza to demolish the unbeaten Italian in typical highlight-reel fashion, dropping Cardamone heavily and forcing the referee to call a halt to the action in the second round.
Though Jackson lost the title five months later to Quincy Taylor, he continued to fight, though lost back-to-back stoppages in his final two bouts and called it a day in 1998.
After 18 years as a pro, Jackson decided to bow out with a mark of 55-6 with 49 inside the distance wins.
In 2003, Jackson was voted number 25 on the “100 Greatest Punchers of All Time” by THE RING magazine.
Despite signature wins over Norris and Graham, Jackson feels his best night as a boxer came in the spring of 1987 against Milton Leaks.
“It was my first (significant) fight after the Mike McCallum championship fight,” he said in his distinct Caribbean accent. “I had to look good after losing to Mike and believe me it was one of those fights that you never forget.
“He knocked me down, and then I knocked him down, and then finally I knocked him out in the 10th round. Somebody said that the winner would become a champion, and I became a three-time world champion.”
The Virgin Island resident is happy with his achievements though does feel he missed out on a superfight.
“The one thing that I feel I didn’t achieve in my boxing career is fighting a mega fight,” he said, “which I believe would have made my career more outstanding.”
Like most fighters of his generation he craved a fight with Sugar Ray Leonard.
“One of the reasons, is that he said he would fight the winner of Terry Norris vs. The Hawk and he chose the loser Terry,” said Jackson.
Today, Jackson, 54, is a minister and works as a sport co-ordinator in boxing for the government in the Virgin Islands. He also trains his two sons Julius and John as well as his nephew Samuel Rogers, all of whom are professional.
Retirement seems to sit well with Jackson: “I enjoy my retirement because I love my country, my family and my new career as a coach.”
Recently Jackson took time out from his hectic schedule to kindly speak with RingTV.com about the best fighters he fought in 10 categories.
Mike-McCallum_320Best Skills – Mike McCallum – he was very seasoned. At that time he was the most experienced boxer that I had met. He was already a champion. I felt he was also very technical. He had all the tools as a boxer and I felt I had the power to knock him out but it turned out to be the opposite.
Best Jab – McCallum – When I look back I would say Mike McCallum probably had one of the best jabs. He was tall; his height had a lot to do with his jab. I guess his timing and his experience, all of that played with that scenario.
Best Defense – Gerald McClellan – In my first fight with Gerald McClellan I didn’t get to hit him like I really wanted to. I was getting to him but somehow my punches weren’t landing clean enough. He was always able to defend and move. His defense was fairly strong and instead of me getting the knockout, which I really believe I would have, I got caught from him and I was the one who got knocked out.
Best Chin – Thomas Tate – I can’t say it was Mike McCallum or Gerald McClellan. I fought this guy in Las Vegas, Thomas Tate. As a matter of fact, I remember the referee, Richard Steele, I literally heard him tell the guy to move because it seemed as though he was giving up. I was not able to end the fight and he was able to survive but I did knock him down but he got back up and we went the distance.
There was a guy I fought in a very cold place but I can’t remember his name. I don’t know if the fight was recorded but I remember fighting this white guy and I hit him with the sink and he wouldn’t go down.
Best Puncher – McClellan – Definitely Gerald McClellan. He was a natural puncher like myself. I knew it and he knew it. I said the one who gets hit first is gonna go down and I guess I was the one that got hit first (laughs).
Fastest Hands – Terry Norris – Terry Norris was naturally quick. Harold Graham was fast but Terry Norris was naturally quick. It was amazing. It seemed as though he was gonna throw one jab and the next thing you know you’re getting hit by two or three jabs. His hand speed to me was the best. My timing was the key to combat his speed. I wasn’t as fast, I was quick, but I wasn’t as fast, my timing was the key, putting on the pressure to combat that speed.
Fastest Feet – Norris – I believe hand and foot speed is something that comes as a package. I would say Terry Norris. His hand speed had to match his foot speed and he had good footwork as well.
Smartest – McCallum – He knew he was in a fight and I had a puncher’s chance and he was afraid of me ’cause just the way he was fighting and what he did in the fight to try to stop me from knocking (him) out. He thumbed me. I got about two or three low blows the referee didn’t see. You might say that’s not smart it’s dirty but he was able to throw me off my game plan because of that. I was really upset because of that.
Strongest – Francisco De Jesus – I hit this guy with punches, even though I stopped him, it was amazing the strength this kid had. He just had power and I could feel the brute strength of this kid. He was stronger than McClellan or McCallum as far as what I felt in that fight. You can be strong, even though McClellan was a very strong puncher his strength may not have been as strong as this guy. When we clinched I could literally feel his power and I was like “woo.”
Best Overall – McClellan – I would say Gerald McClellan had tremendous talent, he had speed, power, especially power, he could box and I feel overall Gerald McClellan was the best fighter I faced.
Julian Jackson was never out of a fight because of his power, a perfect example of this was his fight against Herol Graham, Graham had that fight won, he was laying a pretty good beating on Jackson and the referee was about to call it off, and then Graham made one miscue and it was over, Julian Jackson caught him with the right hand from hell. Herol Graham went to the hospital and couldn't remember what happened until four hours later.
Julian Jackson vs "Terrible" Terry Norris, Norris was a great fighter, didn't matter.
Some guys you just ain't going to knockout, they have chins that you could make body armor from, guys like Marvin Hagler, Jake Lamotta, you couldn't knock them out with a baseball bat. Mike McCallum, aka "the bodysnatcher" had a great chin, he was never stopped. McCallum is a legend, one of the greatest middleweights in history. He's called "the bodysnatcher" because he was one of the best body punchers in history, and a phenomenal ring technician. Julian Jackson fought him in 1986, and right from the start Jackson went for broke and tried to take McCallum out, he hurt McCallum early but McCallum had a bulletproof chin and took it. Then McCallum turned the tables on Jackson and started breaking him down with body shots, and battered him up against the ropes, the referee stepped in and stopped it. I thought the stoppage was a little premature, but McCallum was one tough son of a gun and Jackson just couldn't do anything with him. But that's the thing about hard punching, if your power doesn't work against a guy, you better be able to outbox him, and McCallum was just a different animal, a superb, well rounded fighter, an all-time great.
Julian Jackson vs Gerald McClellan, 1993, an epic battle and one of my favorite fights of all time, two murderous punchers going up against each other. Gerald McClellan was nicknamed the "G-Man" and he had a mean streak in him, McClellan was a vicious bastard and he left a trail of destruction wherever he went.
Recalling The Savage, Damaging Gerald McClellan-Julian Jackson War
Comments Often, a relatively short but thoroughly action-packed middleweight title fight comes along, a fight that, though no gruelling, 11, 12, 13,14 or 15 round epic, deserves the E word all the same – think Hagler-Hearns (less than 3 completed rounds in total, but those eight minutes managing to pack in 15 rounds worth of thrills), think Sugar Ray Robinson-Rocky Graziano (both men down, Rocky hit so hard in the third he had to check to see if his legs still worked). And on this day 28 years ago, we fight fans were treated to another relatively short but mesmerizingly violent, back and forth 160 pound encounter. Gerald McClellan met defending WBC middleweight king Julian Jackson – as in KO King – in Las Vegas on May 8, 1993. What followed was a fight that should in no way have played second fiddle to any fight, not even a heavyweight title fight as proved to be the case. This fight was headline material – the highlight of the year, not only of the night. Jackson, his sight in question but his reflexes and his withering power firing on all cylinders, was making the fifth defence of the title he had won by way of a crushing KO of defensive master Herol Graham. “The G-Man” was four fights removed from his quick destruction of a faded John “The Beast” Mugabi, the 1991 massacre seeing the Kronk fighter win the WBO middleweight strap. Was McClellan ready for as massive a puncher, as lethal an operator as Jackson? “The fight wasn’t going the limit. I knew that,” said McClellan’s trainer Emmanuel Steward. Those words were said after a little over 14 minutes of action had taken place. And it was pure, exhilarating action. McClellan and Jackson went at it from the very start. It was McClellan who scored first blood, hurting Jackson with a right hand, this causing the champ’s legs to dip. Jackson came back in the second round, scorching his challenger’s midsection with a left hand that must have felt like a slashing razor. It was now a matter of who took the better shot. Jackson was left bleeding in the third, this from an accidental clash of heads. Jackson’s sight, already a matter of concern, was now compromised further. McClellan dominated the fourth. Then the explosion came, in the fifth. Jackson hurt his challenger – with a low blow. And then another low blow. McClellan went down, given time to recover from the second foul. Jackson was shaking his head. Then, when action resumed, McClellan crashed home with a monster right hand to Jackson’s head, the punishing blow followed by two sizzling lefts, and down the defending champion went. Laid on his back, “The Hawk” seemed finished. Instead, somehow, Jackson beat the count, only to be sent down again by another right. Once again Jackson got up, his face a mask of blood, but this time Mills Lane had seen enough. It was a superb win by McClellan and he seemed set for superstardom. Disturbingly, more so in hindsight, Gerald said in the post-fight interview how he had “an enormous headache,” that he was going to “sleep for two days.” Had the damage that would be made so, so much worse in the Nigel Benn fight that was 21 months away been inflicted? We will never know. But on this day in 1993, Gerald McClellan was without doubt the baddest middleweight on the planet.
Julian Jackson was fascinating, boxing fans love hard punchers, and Jackson was a boxing fans dream come true.
Just for the record, between McClellan and Jackson, I think Jackson was the harder puncher. In 1993 Jackson was past his best, yet still dangerous. The best names McClellan knocked out were a shop worn John Mugabi and a past prime Jackson himself. Meanwhile, Jackson iced a still solid Herol Graham and a prime Terry Norris, Norris later said that he had never been hurt or dropped before facing Jackson, and Jackson took him out like it was nothing.
That punch that took Herol Graham out wasn't even thrown going forward with full force, Jackson threw that punch awkwardly and it still obliterated Graham.
Duilio Loi, one of the greatest pound for pound fighters that ever lived, his record was 115-3, and he avenged all three of his losses. Among the scalps he collected were the great Carlos Ortiz and the great Eddie Perkins. He's very under the radar, not many people outside of the boxing community have heard of him, but he is one of the best to ever do it.
Remembering Duilio Loi
Duilio Loi is a prime example of a great fighter who had been overlooked by boxing history simply because he fought almost exclusively in Europe. His time on earth and his career had been all but forgotten until he was enshrined into the International Boxing Hall of Fame in 2005. Until then, the word 'International' was a meaningless adjective used only for promotion, not a defining term of the Hall's mission to display the best boxers from around the world. Nino Benvenuti is the fighter most people associate with the best of Italian boxing, but a good case can be made for Loi as the finest fistic talent ever produced by Italy. Ironically, in death, Loi's name has found life again.
Rocky Marciano, Carlos Monzon, and Khaosai Galaxy are all lauded for retiring at the zenith of their careers, as the reigning champions of their divisions. Few remember that Duilio Loi did the same, retiring shortly after regaining his title from Eddie Perkins at the age of 32. A testament to Loi's greatness is that in 126 career bouts, he was on the losing end of the scorecards only three times (twice by split decision), and all the losses were avenged. You did not give Loi a second chance, as he was a fast learner and used his hard earned knowledge with bitter determination.
A factor in the underappreciation of Loi is his lack of knockout power, with only 25 of his 126 fights ending before the final bell. Loi was a short, well built brawler who relied on a stout chin (never knocked down) and smothering tactics to win fights. Loi possessed unbelievable reserves of stamina, constantly bobbing and weaving his way past opponents with longer reaches. He slowly exerted his will upon bewildered and exhausted foes. He also showed above average defensive skills, which further aided the mental collapse of opponents. Loi's high work rate and short stature were geared towards infighting, but it also negated his natural advantage of being a southpaw boxer. Still, it seems as if that in every month of the decade of the 1950's that The Ring reported on a "brilliant", "superb", or "exemplary" performance by a man named Loi.
The historic northern Italian port city of Trieste gave birth and rise to Loi, where he was born on May 4th, 1929. A small child, he was often picked out for ridicule by his classmates, and his father sent him to a local gym to learn to defend himself from bullies. Quickly, Loi discovered he had a talent for the game, but it was a talent that was put on hold as World War II raged over the continent. As Italy grew out of the devastation of World War II, Loi emerged from the rubble as well.
In 1948, at the age of 19, Loi turned pro and he would be put to the test early. In only his 16th fight, almost exactly two years to the day after he turned pro, Loi was fighting for the Italian lightweight title. On this occasion, Loi was held to a 12-round draw by veteran battler Luigi Male. Loi returned to the ring within a month, and impressed by defeating Austrian lightweight champ Karl Marchart. Loi would get a second shot at the Italian lightweight title eight months after his initial attempt. This time, Loi would not be denied and he won the title via 12 round decision. It was Loi's third year as a pro, and for the rest of his career Loi would remain either an Italian, European, or World champion.
The next logical step for Loi was an assault on the European lightweight title, and over the next year Loi fought nine times towards that goal. To earn a European title shot, Loi defeated English veteran Tommy Barnham, while defending his Italian title against future European welterweight champion Emilio Marconi. As in his first Italian title attempt, Loi was rebuffed in his first attempt for European laurels. 17,000 people watched a hotly disputed decision unfold that ultimately saw Jorgen Johansen retain his title before hometown fans in Copenhagen, Denmark.
Loi was heartbroken over the close loss, but he again worked his way out of a funk. After two defenses of his Italian title, and fourteen fights in all, Loi was given a second chance at the European lightweight crown. Loi won it easily this time, beating former conqueror Jorgen Johansen on points. The win was by a wide margin, and Loi felt vindicated and especially proud of the way he dominated the bout. The year was 1954, and Loi would be a top rated world lightweight or welterweight contender for the rest of his career. However, from 1954 to 1960, every reigning world champion successfully avoided his challenges.
Over the next five years, Loi defended both his titles successfully, the Italian title four times and the European version eight times. A world title shot continued to elude Loi, even though he had been undefeated in 58 fights. He decided to travel to Australia and fight three bouts to build up an international resume, instead of making more money defending his titles at home. The foreign trip was capped off with a visit to America, where Loi defeated world rated Glen Flanagan in Miami over ten rounds. Loi wanted to stay in America to gain more attention in his bid for a world title shot, but a big money offer to fight in Milan against Ray Famechon was too much to resist.
Upon returning home, Loi beat the tricky and experienced Famechon, and then fought out of Europe over the next five years. It was a period where he defended the European lightweight title without a setback. Loi also defeated solid international opponents such as a former world champion Wallace (Bud) Smith, whom he knocked down four times en route to a ninth round stoppage. Mexican Al Nevarez (who beat world champs Jimmy Carter, Wallace Smith, and Don Jordan) was also bested over ten rounds, and men from almost every European nation were sent home with losses.
As his wins mounted, Loi grew frustrated by the politics of boxing, which halted his pursuit of the world lightweight title. So, he moved up in weight and began to fight at welterweight in 1959. The waters at welterweight were rougher for Loi, but once he became familiar with the problems at hand, he overcame them with the same ease he had at lightweight. In April of 1959, Loi won the European welterweight title by defeating countryman Emilio Marconi over fifteen rounds. Loi defended the European welterweight title three times, yet another title he never lost in the ring. During this time, Loi was considering retirement and toward that end he opened a restaurant in Milan that thrived, whereas his boxing career seemed to stagnate.
In a career that was marked by bad luck in terms of world title opportunities, Loi did find himself fortunate to be active when the jr. welterweight division was brought back into existence. The division was perfectly suited for Loi, as he was not really powerful or tall enough to compete on even terms with the elite at welterweight. As the title was newly established, Loi was able to garner a title shot within a year of its existence. Even at this new weight, Loi found himself thwarted at first, and when Loi did get a shot at a reigning world champion, the title was not put on the line.
Puerto Rican legend Carlo Ortiz, who was a world class boxer and part of The International Boxing Hall of Fame’s inaugural class, gave Loi an opportunity to fight him in San Francisco. Fighting for only the second time in America, Loi lost a razor thin 15 round split decision. The two men traded punches on the inside throughout the 15 rounds. Ortiz landed the harder blows, and it seemed to sway the judges. Ortiz was given the decision, which many at ringside claimed could have just as well gone to Loi. The closeness of their initial encounter created interest for a rematch. Ortiz, looking to earn extra money, gave in to his wallet and traveled to Italy to defend his title against Loi.
65,000 fanatic Italian fans at Milan's San Siro Stadium were somewhat subdued as Ortiz (who went on to dominate the lightweight division for 10 years) won the early rounds with great bodywork. Loi upped his punch output in the middle rounds, which were close and difficult to score. It became a battle of attrition, which Loi was destined to win because of his stamina. Loi clearly won the championship rounds, and in the final two rounds Ortiz did little but cover up and hold onto Loi at close range. When the scores were read, Loi was finally a world champion.
Loi had won the title on points, as was his fashion, and The Ring magazine made a great observation on how Loi had managed to win this time around. "Fighting at home can turn a toothless tiger into a savage beast", and Loi knew that this would be his last chance at world title as well. Desperation played a large role in the many chances he took during the bout.
Loi, at the age of 31, and after 102 fights, was finally a world champion, while at the same time he was defending his hard earned European titles. This is a feat overlooked by many American boxing historians, as Loi retained his European title against top 10 world ranked contenders like Bruno Visintin, Chris Christensen, and Fortunato Manca.
The Loi vs. Ortiz series would turn into a trilogy, and the third fight (the second with the world title on the line) would be the most lopsided of the bouts. Again over 60,000 fans turned out, and again Loi was sharply focused on the task at hand. Ortiz tried to preserve his energy this time out, but found the Loi assault harsher than expected. Loi even scored a knockdown in the sixth round, which seemed to seal the fate of Ortiz early. Loi was on his way to a dominating points win, as the year's biggest boxing crowd roared its approval.
Next in line for Loi's world title was smooth boxing Eddie Perkins, who would prove to be a worthy challenger for world honors. Perkins was a tall, skilled boxer looking to counterpunch his way to victory. In other words, the exact opposite of Loi, who was a stout come forward brawler. It was also a bad matchup stylewise, and Loi came away with a boring draw which frankly no one deserved to win. In the ninth round, referee Nello Barrovechio stopped the bout and urged the fighters to "fight", as the crowd booed all involved. Some felt Perkins landed the cleaner jabs (both boxers stayed at distance), and deserved the nod in a close fight. Others felt he had not done enough to warrant taking the title from the champ.
The rematch was different, only sought after by Perkins and the WBA, and saw Perkins attack behind a stiff left jab. Perkins, as Loi felt against Ortiz in their second meeting, knew this was his last title opportunity and fought like it. Perkins was sharp, able to move and counter Loi as he was coming in and out of range. Loi's body work was not taking the desired effect, and he was never able to cut off the ring effectively. The more visible and assertive blows were landed by Perkins, and he was rewarded for it with a unanimous decision win. The title was on its way back to America.
A famous boxing axiom says, "All great boxers have one last great effort left in them". The 33 year old Loi proved this saying correct in his third bout with Perkins. Only three months after his lopsided defeat, an extremely fit and determined Loi was able to reverse the loss. This time, Perkins could not keep Loi at a distance with his jab, and Loi weaved his way inside, raking the body and mixing in combinations to the head. A drained Perkins seemed resigned to a points loss after the seventh round, while Loi continued to put forth a commendably high work rate for a man his age.
For the first time in his boxing career, Loi was truly satisfied, and a month after winning the title back (and without engaging in any more fights), he decided it was time to retire...as the reigning world champion. Loi felt his skills were diminishing, and he wanted to spend more time with his family and continue to build up his restaurant business. Loi was not a man of great ego, and did not find it hard to walk away from the sport he had given everything to.
After retiring, Loi slowly faded from the consciousness of Italy and the rest of the boxing world. Late in life, Loi struggled with Alzheimer's disease, and lived with his caretaker daughter. Loi drew a small pension provided by the Italian government, a special pension established for "Writers, actors, poets and sportsmen who made Italians proud." It’s something which anyone who lived through Loi's reign would attest to. In 2005, Loi received boxing's ultimate reward, when he was inducted into The International Boxing Hall of fame. Loi was unable to attend because of his Alzheimer's condition, but his daughter gratefully accepted the award and recognition that went along with it. Just like his world title shot, it was long overdue, which somehow seemed strangely fitting.
And you have to say Duilio Loi has one of the greatest chins in boxing history, in 126 fights, he was never knocked down. He was a bull of a fighter, extremely strong and utilized that strength with brute force to overpower his opponents.
Duilio Loi wasn't known as a hard puncher, yet he floored fighters with iron chins, Carlos Ortiz, Eddie Perkins, Loi has been described as a miniature version of Jake Lamotta. When he was past 30 years of age, he won two out of three against a peak Carlos Ortiz (dropping Ortiz multiple times in the process), and was the only champion to ever successfully defend a world title against Ortiz (in their rubber match.) The legendary Carlos Ortiz was one of the greatest fighters in history, to beat him twice in his prime is impressive.
Loi vs Ortiz.
Loi vs Ortiz.
Loi vs Ortiz.
Eddie Perkins was another all-time great, Perkins was one heck of a fighter, as slick as they come, and Perkins had this skill where could punch right through an opponent's defensive guard and hit him.
Loi vs Perkins.
Loi vs Perkins.
Duilio Loi floors his opponent.
For a guy with not that many knockouts on his record, Duilio Loi sure could crack.
Duilio Loi In training.
Duilio Loi hands.
The great Duilio Loi in his prime.
Florentino "the ox" Fernandez, middleweight, he had a violent, violent career. He's one of the hardest punchers ever, he had a brutal left hook. He brutally knocked out Jose Torres, it was the first time Torres was ever stopped. Florentino Fernandez was a massive middleweight, thickly muscled from head to toe with a wide but destructive left hook and crippling attack downstairs, Ferdie Percheco claimed that the sound of Fernandez's body shots landing on Jose Torres made him cringe upon impact as he watched ringside.
The great boxing trainer Angelo Dundee called Fernandez the hardest puncher he's ever trained. Here's what Angelo Dundee said about Florentino Fernandez:
Florentino Fernandez — I love boxers but I’ve trained some bangers in my time. (Former heavyweight titleholder) Pinklon Thomas could whack, but nobody could punch like Fernandez. He was the best puncher out of Cuba. He was a converted southpaw so his left hook was murder. He broke Gene Fullmer’s forearm with a left hook during their middleweight title fight. He could hurt anyone with any kind of punch no matter where it landed.
Florentino Fernandez is a legend. What a violent, violent fighter he was. He was a restless puncher who earned his nickname "the ox." A real anyone anywhere anytime gun slinger sort of fighter. He was the kind of guy that was coming for you, whether you got him or he got you, it didn't matter to him, that was the nature of the sport as far as he was concerned. His fight against Gene Fullmer was one of the most brutal encounters ever, both guys really layed a beating on each other. Florentino Fernandez hit Gene Fullmer in the arm with a left hook and broke a bone in Gene Fullmer's arm, Fullmer fought the last few rounds with a completely numb arm, he didn't realize until after the fight that his arm was broken. Gene Fullmer was a monster, despite having a broken arm he continued to fight. Florentino Fernandez really ripped some brutal body and head shots into Gene Fullmer, but Fullmer was as tough as they come, and he gave as good as he got and won the decision. A hell of a battle.
Florentino Fernandez hits Gene Fullmer with a brutal left hook.
A LOSING LOOK IN A WINNING FIGHT
BLOODY AND BATTERED THROUGH THE LAST TWO ROUNDS, GENE FULLMER HAD ALL THE APPEARANCE OF A DEFEATED BOXER. HE WAS THE REAL WINNER, THOUGH, AS HE BEAT FLORENTINO FERNANDEZ IN A ROUSER
It is one of the singular qualities of Gene Fullmer, whose heavy and swollen face gives him the appearance of a man ravaged by instant mumps, that he always looks like a beaten fighter yet he is almost never the loser. Last Saturday, as he defended his middleweight title (the NBA version, which is not recognized in New York, Massachusetts, Europe and assorted suburbs), he managed to exalt Challenger Florentino Fernandez from Cuba even as he defeated him. The fight was a virtuoso performance in the Fullmer genre in which appearance all but overcame reality.
Fernandez, a muscular boxer with the upper torso of a light heavyweight and the lower torso of a big welterweight, is a good example of what is happening in boxing. He had three fights as a middleweight, won them all on knockouts, and almost before he had a chance to settle comfortably into his new division found himself fighting Fullmer for the championship. He is a converted southpaw, with a strong left hand and a somewhat overdeveloped left side. "He's an inch bigger all down his left side," says Angelo Dundee, an enthusiastic mercenary who supplements Fernandez' Cuban handlers here in the U.S. "Even his left foot is bigger than his right."
Before the fight Fernandez was said to have two assets working for him. One was his powerful left hook. Fullmer was knocked out by Ray Robinson in May 1957 when a left hook caught him on the chin, and it has become part of an elaborate fantasy of the sport that he is particularly susceptible to left hooks on the chin. The flaw in this theory is that Fullmer is susceptible to any punch on the point of the chin. Sitting in the office of the West Jordan Lions Club last Friday night, his face puffed as usual, his eyes looking as if they'd disappear if he glanced out the corners, Fullmer said as much. "It was not because it was a left hook; it was because I walked right into the punch."
Fernandez' other asset was supposed to be his age. He is only 25, Fullmer is 30 and this fight marked a subtle change, a sort of continental divide, in his career. Heretofore he had been fighting older men; now, for the first time, he was in a title match against a decidedly younger man. ("There'll be a lot of them from now on," said Marv Jenson after the fight. "It's a new era.") As it developed, Fullmer's age—and experience—helped him while Fernandez' youth did him no perceptible good.
For his part Fullmer was thought to have the edge in stamina. Four of his last six fights went 15 rounds, and the other two involved knockouts of Carmen Basilio in the 12th and 14th rounds. Fernandez had never gone more than 10 rounds, and the last time he went as long as 10 rounds he lost.
Finally, the fight was to be held in Utah. "I am fighting in Fullmer's home state and home country. I will be fighting under the laws of the State of Utah and with officials the Utah Boxing Commission will designate. This is of no concern to me," Fernandez announced grandly. (Actually, in its efforts to find impartial officials, the Utah commission sometimes exasperates the Fullmer camp more than the visitors. On the night before the fight, Jenson protested the selection of Del Markham as one judge on the grounds that Fullmer had beaten Markham badly in an amateur fight some 15 years ago. The commission stood by Markham.)
The fight itself was held in the unreal turn-of-the-century atmosphere that television, mindful of the big 10 p.m. markets in the East, has forced on boxing. It was still daylight as the bell sounded and in the background was the renowned Wasatch Range. The setting was reminiscent of the old photographs of boxing. The script, however, was more familiar: in the first two rounds Fullmer moved away from Fernandez, keeping his left side toward the challenger (to make Fernandez' left hook less dangerous) and peeking out the corners of his eyes like a wary, wounded animal. Fernandez bore in, looking for a chance to land his left hook. He wanted to work on Fullmer's kidneys and stomach to get the champion's crossed-arm guard down from his head. Then when Fullmer plunged down and forward into close range, he wanted to belt him with a right uppercut. "But Gene upset the pattern," said Dundee after the fight. "He's a smart operator."
No body, no knockout
In the third, Fullmer began the tactics that endured for 10 rounds. On the theory that there was "a lot of arm in Fernandez' left hook but not much body," he maneuvered so that he could throw his right cross above Fernandez' arm when he got set to throw the left. At one point in the third round, Fullmer held Fernandez by the throat with his left hand while he belted him with the right. But the quick knockout, which was close, eluded him. "I knew he was hurt but I couldn't tell whether he was hurt in the head or the body or what," said Fullmer.
After that Fullmer clawed in behind Fernandez' left arm, held horizontally across his head, to pound at Fernandez in the clinches. The body punches, Fernandez said later, were his single most important surprise in the fight.
Through all this, Fullmer felt he was in control. Fernandez' pattern had been broken, and they were fighting Fullmer's fight—close-in mauling, fierce punching without style or mercy. But Fernandez was not tiring. "He's a strong young bull," said Fullmer, "but he's not a smart fighter. He needs experience." (Said Referee Ken Shulsen: "Fernandez was listening and watching his corner. Three times while he was listening to his corner, he got hit hard.") Fullmer was bloody from superficial cuts around the right eye, near the bridge of his nose and the right corner of his mouth.
Early in the 14th round, Fullmer shot a right hand at Fernandez' head—and stopped momentarily. A small, mirthless, self-deprecating smile passed over his face, as if he were meditating on his own idiocy. He had hurt the second knuckle in his right hand (a similar injury suffered in training delayed the fight for a month) and broken his elbow. Now the right arm was useless.
Fernandez bore in and took the initiative completely away from Fullmer. He caught him erect and backing away in the arm with a left hook, Fullmer's arm was numb halfway to the elbow, although there was no pain, and he felt a surge of weakness. "I wasn't even strong enough to bend down and bull forward," he said later. To most, it looked like he was barely hanging on. But as he groped his way back to his corner, he saw his mother hiding her face and he flipped her a word of confidence. "What was you worried about?" he asked her later.
In the 15th round the gap between Fullmer's appearance and his view of reality widened. He reeled wildly around the ring, clutching at the ropes to keep from falling, yet he said after the fight that he recovered somewhat during the round and felt he broke about even with Fernandez. This is a view that none of the judges shared with him, but at the end Marv Jenson threw the satin robe over him with the gold side out. It is part of their private ritual—"If it comes on gold, it means that in my mind it's certain that we won it," says Jenson. The decision was close and it was split. The only judge who gave Fernandez the edge was Del Markham.
Long after the fight, Fernandez sat in the house trailer that served as his dressing room. Virtually unmarked, he held a bloody paper napkin to his ear which, Dundee explained, he had lanced to prevent cauliflowering. Dundee asked Fernandez if he felt pain. The loser thumped his chest near his heart and said, "Corazón [Only in my heart]."
Fernandez had a vicious left hook.
Florentino Fernandez in training. He was in some great battles with the legendary Dick Tiger and Joey Giambra as well.
The ox.
Ray "boom boom" Mancini. Man, love this guy, all action fighter, always moving forward, always punching. He was a great fighter in his prime, but his career is overshadowed by the death of Duk Koo Kim, a South Korean fighter that died after a 14 round slugfest with Mancini.
SHOOTING STAR
RAY “BOOM BOOM” MANCINI WILL BE REMEMBERED FOR SHINING BRIGHTLY, BUT BRIEFLY, AND A TRAGEDY
His boxing career more or less was launched as an undersized setup man for a very large heavyweight novelty act.
From that humble beginning to his upcoming June 14 induction into the International Boxing Hall of Fame, the path traveled by Ray “Boom Boom” Mancini has featured more rises and dips than an EKG reading. He won the WBA lightweight championship, a distinction denied his World War II-veteran father (onetime lightweight contender Lenny “Boom Boom” Mancini), and became vastly popular in part because of his all-action style and in part because for his status as a devoted, promise-fulfilling son and beacon of hope for his Rust Belt hometown of Youngstown, Ohio.
But although America undoubtedly had a torrid love affair with “Boom Boom” the Younger, the passion was truncated: Discounting an unsuccessful, two-bout comeback, he fought for just 5¾ years. And at a crucial point during that stretch he was unfairly depicted as the poster child for all that is supposedly wrong with boxing. To this day, Mancini is haunted by the memory of his tragic, 14th-round stoppage of South Korea’s Duk Koo Kim. Almost immediately, Mancini’s image morphed from that of the kid next door who made good to someone who had killed a young father from a faraway land with his fists, as Kim, who collapsed in the ring, was declared brain-dead and removed from life-support four days later. CBS, which had happily promoted Mancini as its house fighter, moved quickly to sever its involvement in boxing, which affected the well-being of the sport far beyond the inner turmoil that sapped its onetime attraction of much of what had made him special.
Ray Mancini, now 54 and living in Santa Monica, California, Mancini can only look back on his time in boxing with a mixture of accomplishment and, yes, regret.
“I don’t think any fighter starts out thinking, ‘OK, I’m going to do this, I’m going to do that, and I’ll get in the Hall of Fame,'” Mancini, in his first year of eligibility, said when asked if he thought he’d receive a congratulatory call from IBHOF Executive Director Ed Brophy. “For me, I wanted to win the world title for my father. That was it. Then, when I won the title, I wanted to be the best champion that I could be, for the city of Youngstown, for my family. And third, I wanted to make some money and get some security.
“Winning the title is one thing. But there’s been a lot of champions who had it for about a day and a half. I wanted to do all the things a good champion should do. Did I do all that I set out to do? Enough to become a Hall of Famer? I don’t know. I didn’t know what it takes to get in; I still don’t. Is it stats? Is it impact? You tell me. But whatever it is, I’m very honored and very flattered to have made it.”
Mancini’s stats (29-5, 23 knockouts) are impressive but perhaps not overwhelmingly so. Although he was just 21 when he captured the WBA 135-pound title, on a first-round stoppage of Arturo Frias on May 8, 1982, in Las Vegas, it was his second shot at the big prize. The first came on Oct. 3, 1981, in Atlantic City, when WBC lightweight ruler Alexis Arguello registered a 14th-round technical-knockout victory. Following that defeat, the first of his career, Mancini scored two wins inside the distance to put himself in position to dethrone Frias and keep the promise he had made years earlier to his dad, whose own championship dreams were likely dashed when, on Nov. 10, 1944, near the French town of Metz, he was hit with shrapnel from a German mortar shell.
Maybe it all would have happened in any case for Mancini, who had all the prerequisites to be fast-tracked to stardom. He was white, Italian-American, good-looking, with a fan-friendly approach to his craft and a backstory that had even non-boxing fans reaching for their handkerchiefs once the saga of Lenny and his son gained traction. But there is at least a possibility that Mancini’s destiny would have been denied, or at least delayed, were it not for a 6-foot-9, 255-pound defensive end for the Dallas Cowboys, Ed “Too Tall” Jones, who had decided to take a break from his NFL career to try his hand at professional boxing.
As the NFL’s first overall pick in the 1974 draft, and a key figure of the Cowboys’ famed “Doomsday Defense,” Jones benefited from having all six of his bouts nationally televised by CBS, which aired Dallas games as frequently as possible. Jones was managed by former sports writer David Wolf, who successfully lobbied CBS to put another of his fighters, a young, unknown lightweight from Youngstown, on several of the telecasts in which “Too Tall” was the headliner.
Although Jones went 6-0 with five knockouts from Nov. 3, 1979, to Jan. 26, 1980, the opponents he was being spoon-fed weren’t as difficult to get past as your average NFL offensive lineman. Mancini, who was 1-0 when he signed on for the whirlwind “Too Tall” tour, was 5-0 with four KOs as an opening act, making a name for himself that he would continue to embellish after Jones returned to the Cowboys for 10 additional seasons.
“Dave Wolf was a brilliant guy,” Mancini said of his former manager. “My first fight (not with Jones) was in my hometown of Youngstown. The second was in Phoenix, the third in Washington, D.C., the fourth in Dallas, the fifth back (also not with Jones) in Youngstown, the sixth in Jackson, Mississippi, the seventh in Indianapolis. He had me going around the country with ‘Too Tall.’ But all that moving around got me noticed by more people when I was on the way up. A lot of guys when they start out, they stay in one spot for a while.”
The boxing world, having been introduced so early to Mancini, quickly became even more familiar with the tale of the little kid who loved to go down to the basement of the family home and pore over scrapbooks chronicling his father’s pugilistic career. It became Ray’s dream to live the dream that Lenny might have realized had it not been for his war injury.
Moments after Mancini blasted out Frias, he and Lenny, who was 84 when he died in 2003, embraced in a display of genuine love and affection. The scene would be played out time and again, in a manner of speaking, in film (a made-for-television movie) and in print (“The Good Son: The Life of Ray ‘Boom Boom’ Mancini,“ by author Mark Kriegel). Winning the title for his father meant more to the son than it did for himself. And it also provided a nice boost of civic pride to his hometown, which had fallen on hard economic times on Sept. 19, 1977, “Black Monday,” when thousands of its citizens reported for work at Youngstown Sheet and Tube, one of the world’s largest steel mills, and found the gates padlocked.
Mancini never knew the despair of losing a mill job – or maybe even the necessity of having one – but everything changed for him on Nov. 13, 1982, at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas. He and Duk Koo Kim were throwing everything they had at one another. And the damage that was mutually inflicted was as frightful to witness as it was electrifying. “[Kim] was the mirror image of Ray,” said Top Rank matchmaker Bruce Trampler. “It was like Mancini vs. Mancini.”
Mancini dropped Kim in the 14th round and, although the valiant South Korean challenger beat the count, referee Richard Green stepped in to prevent him from absorbing further punishment. But by then it was already too late: Kim’s death and the subsequent suicides of Kim’s mother and Green drained the joy of boxing out of Mancini, as well as a substantial degree of his marketability.
“I can’t say how long I would have continued had that fight not ended the way it did but certainly after that I was looking for the door,” Mancini said.
Although he won four fights after the Kim tragedy, including two title defenses, the exit for Mancini presented itself in the form of back-to-back losses to Livingston Bramble, the first on a 14th-round stoppage, the second on a 15-round unanimous decision. A worsening problem – a tendency for the scar tissue around his eyes to be torn into bloody cuts – was a contributing factor in each instance. Mancini needed 14 stitches to close the gashes incurred in the first Bramble fight, 27 in the rematch.
There would be a four-year layoff from the ring, during which Mancini tried his hand at acting. But choice roles were few and far between, and, well, there is a certain comfort level in a man returning to what he knows best. But even though still chronologically young, the rust on “Boom Boom” showed as he lost a 12-round split decision to Hector Camacho on March 6, 1989, and was stopped in seven rounds by Greg Haugen on April 3, 1992.
“When my career ended, I was proud of it and I moved on,” Mancini said. “Boxing had served its purpose. I left with no regrets. I had lost my love for the game. Plus, my style of fighting was not made for a long career. It was fan-friendly, so you sacrifice longevity to make your mark while you can.
“The thing I’m most proud of is that people remember my fights. It sure beats the alternative. But in every fight, you leave a piece of yourself. It comes down to how many pieces you have left. The bigger the war, the bigger piece you need, and the bigger piece you leave in the ring. It’s sad, but when some guys are done, there’s nothing left. Your body has only so many fights in it.”
As was the case with the late Arturo Gatti, and maybe a couple of others, Mancini’s worthiness for the IBHOF has been questioned by those who believe his prime was too short and lacking the stamp of legitimate greatness. Mancini realizes he wasn’t a slam-dunk for induction and he said he could have lived with it had he been snubbed by voters.
“Boxing was one chapter in my life,” he said. “It wasn’t the only chapter. There were other things I wanted to do. To be honest with you, I didn’t think I warranted [induction] because I didn’t have that long a career. But one writer told me, `Yeah, but you had a big impact on the sport. You were part of a group of fighters in the early ’80s when network television got back involved. You brought boxing into America’s living rooms on Saturday afternoons because you were CBS’ guy.’
“You know what? I hadn’t really thought of it in that way. So I said, ‘OK, I’ll take it then."
That's the thing about boxing, it's a brutal sport.
The Haunted Life Of Ray 'Boom Boom' Mancini
Ray Mancini carried hopes and ghosts into the boxing ring. He was the son of a great contender, Lenny Mancini, who was wounded in World War II before he ever got a chance at a championship. Mancini inherited his father's ring nickname — "Boom Boom" — and his championship dreams. In 1980, Mancini succeeded in winning the lightweight championship of the world, earning him widespread adoration.
And then, in November 1982, Mancini met a South Korean boxer named Duk Koo Kim in just his second title defense. Duk Koo Kim went down in the 14th round — and he never got up. He died four days later.
Boom Boom Mancini kept his title. But Mancini, once the clean-living good son who won the title his father couldn't, saw his image changed. "After that fight, I became the poster boy for everything that was wrong with boxing," Mancini told NPR.
Mark Kriegel, who has written acclaimed biographies of Joe Namath and Pete Maravich, has written a new book, The Good Son: The Life of Ray "Boom Boom" Mancini. Kriegel talks with NPR's Scott Simon about how Mancini's pursuit of family honor was marred by tragedy.
On the pressure Mancini felt to succeed as a boxer
"Well, from a young age, he aspired to rescue the reputation and, in effect, redeem his father. And as Ray grows up, as a boy, he goes into the ... laundry room in the basement, and excavates all the old clippings of his father — his father's fights — and as a kid he says, 'Hey dad, I'm going to win the title for you.' ...
"I think it was a will to rescue a wounded father, to correct the past. It was his way of saving the family honor. And what came of it was an enormously successful career — for a time, he was the hottest thing out there."
On what made Mancini a great fighter
"Ray made himself a great fighter based on desire. Ray wanted it more. He believed in sacrifice. He was, in literal terms, willing to bleed more than the next guy. He was willing to take two punches to give one, and, like his father, he always came forward, and he ... regarded that as a mark of virtue in a fighter."
1982 match between Mancini and Duk Koo Kim
"Caesars Palace had just unveiled a new outdoor ring, and you have to remember that boxing was still a major American sport. There was a great deal of celebrity interest. It's a big Saturday afternoon fight on CBS. It's the middle of an NFL football strike. Bill Cosby's there, and Frank Sinatra and Jilly Rizzo are front and center. And in the days before the fight, Sinatra had actually sought an audience with Ray, which Ray was astounded at ...
"[Frank Sinatra] loved Ray Mancini. And he says, 'Listen. You're doing us all proud, kid.' Just before the fight, Sugar Ray Leonard had announced his retirement, and what that left was Ray Mancini as arguably the most marketable athlete in America ...
"It was the 14th round. It was supposed to be an easy fight; it was supposed to be something of an exhibition. And from the beginning, you could see it was much more arduous for both fighters. And they're both coming forward. Neither is going to concede any step. And finally, in the 14th, Ray comes out, hits him with a left hook, Kim collapses, falls backward against the ropes, the ring becomes a frenzy. And Ray doesn't even know that Kim is ... badly hurt — he can't see."
On who was responsible for Kim's death
"Each of the protagonists and each of the supporting characters all acquit themselves admirably. And you're still left with a tragedy."
On the effect of Kim's death on Mancini, who told NPR, "It haunted me, was why [Kim] and not me? He was giving as good as he was getting. And who's to say it wouldn't be me next time?"
"The idea of the sport had been holy to Ray, and now that Kim's death had incited a national debate about boxing and a backlash against Mancini himself, he felt it became corrupted. There ... was nothing joyous in it anymore — all the righteous reasons for which he had fought were now gone. ...
"Fighters can't believe in ghosts. If he had had less imagination, less sensitivity, he probably would have survived this as a fighter ... He became the most unlikely symbol for what was corrupt and objectionable and brutal about boxing."
On the meeting Kriegel helped bring about between Mancini and Kim's son, Chi Wan, in an attempt at reconciliation
"Chi Wan and Young Mee, his mother, come to Ray's house. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't an awkward meeting and it didn't begin with a certain excessive formality and stiffness. And where I think they really started to break the ice was when Ray picks up the photograph of his father after the Billy Marquart fight from 1941 where his father was, in fact, battered. And I think that everybody in that room found something haunting and familiar in that image that they all identified with, and it started to ease up from there."
It's hard to like this sport when you see things like the Duk Koo Kim tragedy unfold, it's not the only tragedy that has happened in this sport, many fighters have died as a result of their injuries, too many to count. Ray Mancini has made peace with what happened, and I'm glad he found peace, because it wasn't his fault, this is a dangerous sport. Watching boxing today, you always hope that the referee jumps in and stops a fight if a guy is taking too bad of a beating, we don't need any more tragedies.
In honor of Duk Koo Kim, he was one hell of a fighter, he gave as good as he got, a true warrior. RIP brother.
Ray Mancini vs Bobby Chacon.
Bobby "the schoolboy" Chacon was a legend and a hero to Ray Mancini, they fought in 1984. Bobby Chacon had been in many brutal wars by the time him and Ray Mancini fought, Bobby Chacon was at the end of his career. Bobby Chacon is one of my all-time favorites as well, much like Mancini, Chacon was an all action fighter, he gave us some of the best fights in boxing history, his clashes with Rafael "bazooka' Limon were about as savage as you can get, his fight with Danny "little Red" Lopez", Ruben "rockabye" Olivares, Alexis "the explosive thin man" Arguello among many others. Chacon was a legend, known for being able to take ridiculous amounts of punishment and walking through fire. Bobby Chacon was a prime example of what it takes to make it in this sport, the punishment you have to endure, it's unlike any other sport. Anyway, in 1984 Mancini fought the legendary Chacon, it was a sad sight to behold. But what should have been a passing the torch moment, basically turned into the end of the line for Ray Mancini, he couldn't get past the tragedy of what happened to Duk Koo Kim.
Jan. 14, 1984: Mancini vs Chacon
Boxing is not an old man’s sport and over the decades there have been plenty of what we might call “passing-the-torch” fights, when age gives way to younger legs and faster fists. Rocky Marciano knocking Joe Louis out of the ring and catapulting himself to heavyweight glory. Mike Tyson sending Larry Holmes to the canvas three times in a single round. Oscar De La Hoya battering Julio Caesar Chavez, and then, a decade later, Floyd Mayweather establishing his own dominance by outpointing “The Golden Boy.” In each case the loser soon retired with grace, legendary status intact, as the victor went on to cement his place in the pantheon of great fighters.
That’s what was supposed to happen when young superstar Ray “Boom Boom” Mancini faced former two time world champion Bobby Chacon, aka “The Schoolboy,” in 1984. Mancini was 22, already a champion, and ready to rule the lightweights for the rest of the decade. Chacon, a decade older and the veteran of clashes against fellow Hall of Famers Ruben Olivares, Danny Lopez and Alexis Arguello, was moving up in weight after a series of brutal championship bouts at 130 pounds, and could do very little to tarnish his legacy at this point. It was a classic fight to cement Mancini as the new star, and to allow Chacon to leave the ranks with dignity.
But that is not what happened. While the in-ring action of Mancini vs Chacon was about what people expected, it actually marked the last time either man did what the boxing script said he should.
On the night, Mancini was clearly the bigger man. While Chacon looked narrow and had little tone in his upper body, Ray looked like he’d been carved from marble by a renaissance sculptor. In fairness, Chacon had appeared the smaller man in many of his fights before going on to win, but that’s one thing when a boxer is in his ascendancy, and another when he’s on his way down.
Despite his granite chin, everyone knew Bobby would have to stay off the ropes to have a chance against the powerful Mancini, and for much of the opening round that’s what he did. But then Mancini shoved Chacon out of a clinch and onto the ropes and he then kept the challenger on the back foot for the rest of the frame. Within a minute of round two, Bobby was cornered again and taking a beating from Mancini, ducking and slipping the best he could, but the blows were connecting for the champion, and even the Chacon fans in the stands could see their man was out-gunned and over-matched.
The third was more of the same and at just over a minute into the round referee Richard Steele stopped the fight. It was an odd stoppage as Steele first stepped in to end it, but then saw Chacon throw another punch and let things go for a few more moments before finally bringing the one-sided ordeal to a halt. Nonetheless, no one watching could have doubted a Mancini victory would be the eventual outcome, and Steele undoubtedly acted in the best interests of the bleeding Chacon. As he wrapped his arms around the defeated man, Bobby said, “Thank you.”
So the fight went according to plan, as did the post-fight quotes where Mancini called Chacon his hero, and Bobby said with his characteristic grin, “Ray, we were supposed to be friends. How come you beat me up?” Mancini smiled and replied, “Just business, Bobby. Just business.” It seemed as though the torch had been passed.
Boxing, though, is a strange trade. Chacon would actually fight on for another four years and, unlike most fighters who go on past their primes, he won every bout. He never fought top contenders again, but he beat Freddie Roach and former champion Arturo Frias. In a way, Chacon became the typical fighter who stayed on too long, unable to recover squandered winnings or quit the only life he’d ever known—except that somehow he avoided the ignominious losses so many former champions suffer. The only thing that happened to him which one might expect was the onset of pugilistic dementia, which severely affected him until his death in 2016.
But Mancini took an even stranger path. Though he appeared ready to begin a legendary career, he never won another fight. In his next bout he lost his title to Livingstone Bramble, then lost a rematch, and then retired for four years. The reason was, of course, that Mancini had never really gotten over his infamous fight with Duk Koo Kim in 1982. In that unforgettable clash, Mancini prevailed in a grueling slugfest, knocking his brave challenger out in round 14; Kim collapsed in the ring and days later died in hospital. The tragic fight and its aftermath have since been documented in the excellent book The Good Son and the subsequent documentary film of the same name.
Any boxing fan understood that Kim’s death wasn’t Mancini’s fault, that all boxers know and accept the risks when stepping into the ring. There had been no foul play in the match, and while it was Mancini’s punches that caused Kim’s mortal damage, none were thrown out of malice. That fight, too, was just business.
Nonetheless, Mancini couldn’t shake his depression despite his successful return to the sport—Chacon was his fourth opponent after Kim—and jocular exchanges with his defeated hero. Underneath, the darkness of what he’d done a few years before lay undiminished. It took him decades, and eventually a meeting with Duk Koo Kim’s son, to be at peace again. In the end, despite both Chacon and Mancini being elected to the Hall of Fame, it’s Ray’s dark journey that sparks people’s imaginations even today, while outside of boxing circles Chacon was largely forgotten until his death—a tragic story in its own right.
Mancini and Chacon at the post-fight press conference.
In 1987, Warren Zevon wrote a song called “Boom Boom Mancini,” about Ray and his life, his wars with Arguello and Kim, and the Chacon fight anchors the chorus:
“Hurry home early, hurry on home.
Boom Boom Mancini’s fighting Bobby Chacon.”
That sums up the odd narrative that followed Mancini vs Chacon. With everything these two fighters endured in the years after, it was Mancini who remained in people’s minds. No doubt that had much to do with the story of his life, his storybook quest to fulfill his father’s ambition to be a world champion, along with his exciting battles against Arguello and Frias, but it no doubt also had something to do with that savage fight with Kim and a death in the ring. I’m sure Ray would rather it have been different, but nonetheless he got the song, and Bobby Chacon only got one line.
A good documentary about Ray Mancini, in this documentary he meets Duk Koo Kim's grown son 3 and it helps him to find peace with the tragedy 30 years after it happened.
Always loved Mancini as a fighter though, a balls to the wall fighter, action packed, his philosophy was to always be moving forward and punching, and it made for some great fights.
Boom Boom.
For those that say the fighters from yesterday couldn't hang with today's guys, I say you're an idiot. Today's fighters would not want to see Carmen Basilio standing across the ring from them. The man was hard as nails.
Carmen Basilio was nicknamed "the onion farmer" or "the onion picker", he was about as savage as a man can get in this sport, he could take unimaginable brutality as well as give it, he was as hard as diamond inside the ring, but he was as nice and honorable as can be outside of it. He stood up to the mob boss Frankie Carbo and even testified against him, Basilio was fearless. As a fighter, he applied vicious pressure to his opponents, and bombarded them with a relentless assault to the head and body, he could hit you with any kind of punch from any angle. He is a legend in this sport that was involved in some of the bloodiest and brutal fights in the history of boxing. His fights won fight of the year honors for five straight years, a record yet to be matched, and Carmen Basilio is pretty much the reason the boxing hall of fame was created. This article was written right after he passed away.
A TRIBUTE TO CARMEN BASILIO
On every imaginable level, Basilio’s life and career were defined by hard work, perseverance, substance and character. Born on April 2, 1927 in Canastota, N.Y., Basilio worked the onion fields with his nine siblings beginning at age five. The years of toil helped develop the man Basilio would become, both physically and emotionally.
Though the adult Basilio stood just 5-6¾, he sported amazingly powerful shoulders and legs, which, in turn, provided the leverage for his deadly left hook. The hook’s effect was enhanced by the fact that this natural southpaw fought from a right-handed stance, which positioned Basilio’s stronger hand a few inches closer to the target. Sure, he didn’t have a great knockout percentage (27 KOs in his 56-16-7 record), but Basilio was capable of putting a world of hurt on anyone who stepped inside the ring with him.
While the farm work molded his physique, it also honed the tenacity that defined his career. The craggy-faced New Yorker was the epitome of an “honest fighter.” He squeezed out the very best of himself in every fight, which enabled him to achieve heights that lesser men with identical tools would have done. The mental fortitude forged in his youth served him well during his stint in the Marines, and following his honorable discharge in 1948 he began his professional boxing career.
Basilio hardly enjoyed a fairy tale start; in fact he was 28-10-4 in his first 42 fights. However, Basilio not only learned from his mistakes, he executed those lessons by beating several men who had inflicted previous blemishes. A draw and a split decision loss to Johnny Cunningham in fights one and three were answered by a second-round KO and an eight-round win in fights two and four and in back-to-back fights with Gaby Ferland staged 26 days apart in April and May 1950 he answered a 10-round draw in fight one with a first round KO in the rematch.
Basilio really didn’t begin to find his stride until the fall of 1952. Following a 10-round loss to Billy Graham, Basilio won seven consecutive fights, the best of which came against former lightweight king Ike Williams (KO 7) and Graham (W 12) for the New York state welterweight title. A 12-round draw with Graham 49 days later confirmed that Basilio had come a long way since Graham, a 113-fight veteran, out-boxed him 11 months earlier.
That showing vaulted him into his first shot at the welterweight title less than two months later against the formidable Kid Gavilan and it was here that Basilio introduced himself to the boxing world at large. In round two Basilio floored Gavilan for only the second time in his 112-fight career and was ahead on all cards after six rounds. “The Keed” found his rhythm in the second half of the fight but the split decision for Gavilan still was lustily booed by the throng at Syracuse’s War Memorial Auditorium. From that point forward, Basilio would be a fixture on the championship scene.
Securing a second title shot – which should have been a given after his stirring performance against Gavilan – proved a most difficult task because Basilio stood his ground against the mob-backed International Boxing Club. He served as a prosecution witness against Frankie Carbo during Carbo’s trial in the early 1960s, after which Carbo was sentenced to 25 years. The loss of time, money and opportunity was profound but Basilio held firm to his integrity and in the end he won. His battle and eventual triumph over the IBC was documented in an ESPN film “Fighting the Mob: The Story of Carmen Basilio.” It is ironic that the boy whose love of boxing was sparked by Primo Carnera’s heavyweight title reign would grow up to be a man who took on the very mob that controlled “Da Preem’s” career.
While continuing his battle outside the ring, he succeeded inside it. He went 12-0-2 in his next 14 fights before meeting freshly minted welterweight champion Tony DeMarco, who just 70 days earlier dethroned the mob-backed Johnny Saxton by 14th-round TKO to capture the crown. Before his hometown fans at Syracuse’s War Memorial Auditorium, Basilio made good on his second chance by stopping DeMarco in the 12th.
The rematch with DeMarco was staged five months later in the challenger’s home town of Boston. While Basilio retained the title in a fight that lasted just two seconds longer than the original, the most memorable moment was one that featured Basilio in crisis. Late in the seventh round DeMarco slammed Basilio with his signature left hook, a punch responsible for most of the ex-champ’s 30 knockouts in 47 wins. Most mortals would have been pole-axed by the blow but the stricken Basilio refused to yield. His legs buckled, wobbled and reeled but never folded. That miracle was followed by another as Basilio somehow weathered the fusillade of blows that rained on him for the remainder of the round.
“I got hit on the point of the chin,” Basilio told author Peter Heller inIn This Corner: Forty World Champions Tell Their Stories. “It was a left hook that hit the right point of my chin. What happens is it pulls your jawbone out of your socket from the right side and jams into the left side and the nerve there paralyzed the whole left side of my body, especially my leg. My left knee buckled and I almost went down, but when I got back to my corner the bottom of my foot felt like it had needles about six inches high and I just kept stamping my foot on the floor, trying to bring it back. And by the time the bell rang for the eighth round it was all right.” The vivid and honest description of his duress was typical of the man, as was the fact he pulled himself up from that crisis and went on to win the fight.
The pulsating battle was deemed THE RING’s Fight of the Year in 1955. In fact, from 1955 to 1959 – a yet-to-be-matched five consecutive years – Basilio was involved in the year’s best fight according to THE RING.
George Foreman and Arturo Gatti came the closest to duplicating Basilio’s feat by engaging in four Fights of the Year in a five-year and six-year stretch respectively while Tony Zale and Rocky Marciano were honored in three consecutive years. But in terms of providing consistently exciting fights that earned subsequent year-end honors, Basilio stands alone.
Basilio lost the welterweight title in March 1956 to Johnny Saxton in a verdict most believe was mob influenced. But Basilio got his revenge six months later by stopping Saxton in nine rounds, a fight that earned 1956 Fight of the Year honors from THE RING.
After Basilio crushed Saxton in two rounds and Harold Jones in four, Basilio took a leap of faith by challenging middleweight champion Sugar Ray Robinson, who stood four-and-a-half inches taller, sported a far longer reach and possessed otherworldly skills – even at age 36.
Basilio entered the Robinson fight with a burning hatred for the “Sugar Man” because of their first meeting in 1953 shortly after beating Graham for the state welterweight title. Basilio was walking down Broadway when he spotted Robinson and his entourage approaching from the other direction. Feeling they were brothers by profession, he approached Robinson and introduced himself. What he got back infuriated him – for life.
“He gave me a brush-off, and I lost my respect for him right then and there,” he recalled years later. “People come up to speak to you, you have to be happy because it’s people that make you what you are. He was an arrogant guy.”
Basilio channeled that anger into supreme aggression when they met face-to-face four years later in Yankee Stadium, and at one point in round 11 he unleashed nearly three dozen unanswered blows. After lifting the title via split decision Basilio became just the third reigning welterweight champion to capture middleweight honors (Tommy Ryan and Robinson were the others). Of course, Basilio-Robinson I was chosen THE RING’s 1957 Fight of the Year.
The rematch on March 25, 1958 was the next fight for both men and once again Basilio was perceived as the underdog. One famous interview with Howard Cosell perfectly captured Basilio’s defiance in the face of doubt. Cosell informed Basilio that he had just polled 10 sports writers for their prediction and that nine of them had chosen Robinson by knockout. When Cosell asked for Basilio’s reaction, the proud ex-farm hand had the definitive answer – “nine of ’em are wrong!” Cosell could no nothing but chuckle.
As was the case six months earlier, the action was savage and compelling. Both men had to deal with adversities beyond just the brutal combat – Robinson was suffering from flu-like symptoms while a sixth-round right uppercut ruptured a blood vessel over Basilio’s left eye.
“I got stupid that night,” Basilio told Heller. “He kept throwing a right uppercut at me that night. He never quit. Like, a lot of times you’ll throw a punch at a guy two or three times and if you don’t get away with it you’ll quit using it. He threw it at me five times. He knew that I bobbed and weaved and he tried to catch me going down in a bob-and-weave. He’d throw it, I’d go down, I’d catch his right uppercut with my right hand, and I’d counter him with a left hook because he was wide open for it. I did it four times. The fifth time he threw it at me and I saw it coming. I missed it with my hand and it went past my hand, hit me right in the eyebrow and broke the blood vessels and blew my eyelid up. My eye shut.”
Did it ever. Long before the 15-round distance had run its course Basilio’s orb was an ugly, purple mess that was shut drum-skin tight.
The pain that coursed through Basilio’s face every time Robinson landed a punch on it must have been immense but the tenacious Basilio continued to fight through it and nearly came out of the ring with his belt. Basilio prevailed on referee Frank Sikora’s card (69-66) but Sikora was overruled by judges John Bray (71-64) and Franklin McAdams (72-64). With the victory, Robinson gained the middleweight championship for a record fifth time while Basilio had to be satisfied with yet another Fight of the Year award.
Basilio rebounded with victories over Art Aragon (KO 8) and Arley Seifer (KO 3) to earn a crack at the vacant NBA middleweight title against Gene Fullmer, a bull-strong Utah native who rivaled Basilio in terms of ruggedness. But Fullmer pulled off a strategic bait-and-switch that no one, much less Basilio, could have seen coming. Instead of going toe-to-toe, Fullmer chose to stick and move – and he did it quite well. Basilio never was able to draw a bead on Fullmer but the effort he put forth during his 14th round TKO loss was worthy enough to win his fifth straight Fight of the Year honor.
Basilio lost the rematch Fullmer 10 months later – this time by 12th-round TKO – and after 10-round decision victories over Gaspar Ortega and Don Jordan the 34-year-old New Yorker came up short in his final title challenge against Paul Pender, who won a lopsided 15-round decision on April 22, 1961. Basilio said he was badly hampered by a pulled muscle in his left shoulder, which prevented him from throwing his vaunted hook. He announced his retirement shortly thereafter.
Although Basilio hung up the gloves, it didn’t stop him from utilizing his fabled work ethic. He taught physical education at Le Moyne College in Syracuse for 21 years and worked for Rochester’s Genesee Brewing Co. for years after that. He also served as chief second to nephew Billy Backus, who scored his own title fight upset by beating welterweight king Jose Napoles on cuts in the very building Basilio won his championship 15 years earlier.
But Basilio’s greatest post-career legacy was yet to come.
In 1984 the residents of Canastota honored Basilio and Backus by dedicating statues depicting them in fighting poses. That, in turn, encouraged townspeople, particularly Ed Brophy, to explore the possibility of creating boxing’s first Hall of Fame and museum. That dream became a reality in 1989 during the ribbon-cutting ceremony and one year later Basilio was part of the initial IBHOF class that included Muhammad Ali, Joe Louis, Henry Armstrong, Rocky Marciano, Archie Moore, Carlos Monzon, Willie Pep, Sandy Saddler, Jose Napoles and old foes Sugar Ray Robinson, Ike Williams and Kid Gavilan.
For the next two decades Basilio was a fixture at the annual induction weekend and he often was introduced by emcee Joey Fiatto as “the reason why we are all here.” All the while Basilio never lost the common touch. He signed autographs until the very last person was satisfied and he treated those with whom he interacted as equals. He loved to playfully poke bystanders in the ribs just to see how they would react. Seeing it was Basilio, they deferred to his greatness and laughed with him.
That was just one part of Basilio’s human side. Another was how he looked out for his friends.
When Tony DeMarco’s son died in a car accident in 1975, Basilio traveled to Boston to attend the funeral and give support to his onetime rival. DeMarco was touched by Basilio’s kindness during his time of grief and the two remained friends for life. For years they appeared together at the IBHOF induction weekend, including in 2005 when they celebrated the 50th anniversary of their two classic fights. Basilio and Fullmer also were friendly rivals, and during one of the induction weekend’s early years they climbed into the ring for a joke-filled boxing exhibition.
Basilio’s appearances at the IBHOF weekend were sporadic in the final few years as his resilient body finally bowed to the ravages of time. His spirit, however, never left the festivities.
The past 12 months have been devastating in terms of the legends boxing has lost. It’s almost impossible to fathom that former heavyweight champion Joe Frazier’s death occurred exactly one year before Basilio’s and that Basilio’s trainer Angelo Dundee would follow in February. Writer and historian Bert Randolph Sugar passed away in March, Johnny Tapia in May, Teofilo Stevenson in June and Jimmy Bivins in July. Other boxing figures such as Corrie Sanders, Don Fullmer and 1956 Olympic gold medalist Terry Spinks have left our midst and those who love the sport are still mourning Steward’s passing.
Basilio’s death is yet another reminder of the fragility and temporary nature of life. Many accurately say that life is occasionally unfair but one thing is beyond question: Death is, has been and always will be undiscriminating. Those who know Basilio and those who know of him can take comfort that he achieved a lot in his 85 years. He more than lived up to the fighter’s code inside the ring, but more importantly he more than lived up to the code of humanity outside it.
Like I said, Carmen Basilio was in some of the most apocalyptic fights this sport has ever seen. He fought Tony DeMarco twice, DeMarco was nicknamed the "Boston Bomber" because he was from Boston and could punch like hell. Their two fights were bloodbaths. Here are round by round accounts of both of their fights.
Carmen Basilio catches Tony DeMarco with a vicious right
THE DEMARCO BASILIO WARS
Tony DeMarco after briefly celebrating a moment of victory won in his hometown of Boston, the new champion had to comply with his contract to defend his title against the number one ranked contender. That contender was Carmen Basilio and he was on on his second campaign for welterweight glory.
Tony DeMarco versus Carmen Basilio Undisputed World Welterweight Championship 10.06.1955
Born Carmine Basilio on 2nd April 1927 in Canastota, New York, USA, Carmen Basilio was one of nine siblings. Aged just five, he joined his family to work the onion fields and hence his ring nickname “The Upstate Onion Farmer”. Basilio would always credit his early life of hard work as being what helped build up his character of fortitude and resilience as well as his physical fitness. A lot of attention was paid to the powerful shoulders he developed during those early years. His family were all lovers of boxing and Basilio drew inspiration from fellow Italian, the once world heavyweight champion, Primo Carnera. Basilio’s father bought him and all his siblings boxing gloves. He earned a place on the high school boxing team and would later tell Dave Lamele in an interview, “That’s the only reason I went to high school, because they had that boxing team. Without that I wouldn’t have gone.” After being honourably discharged from the Marine Corps he fought as an amateur for one year before turning professional in 1948. Basilio won his first four fights, the first three by knockout. He then drew on points with Johnny Cunningham and Jimmy Parlin. His eleventh fight saw his first loss to Connie Thies. He would also lose his sixteenth fight to Johnny Cunningham who had previously beaten in their rematch via a second round knockout. The two would immediately fight a fourth time, this time Basilio won on points.
Basilio began campaigning outside of New York to build up his record and reputation in a bid to get a contender position for the world welterweight title. He fought in Chicago, New Orleans, Pennsylvania, Florida and Ohio. He beat former world champion Ike Williams with a seventh round knockout and a trilogy of fights with top contender, Billy Graham, losing the first time, winning the second and drawing the third. These popular fights got him noticed and won him the New York State Welterweight title. None of his 10 losses over his first 50 fights ended in a knockout, but he won 16 of them that way.
Basilio got his first shot at world welterweight title in 1953. It was his fifty-first fight and would be his eleventh defeat. He lost a split decision to the reigning champion of the time, Kid Gavilan. This was despite the fact he had hurt Gavilan in the second round and then knocked him down near the end of the round with his lethal left hook. The Kid had struggled to make the count. This was only the second time Gavilan had been knocked down (the first time had been by Ike Williams). He was one of only a few world champions never to be knocked out. The audience were behind Basilio and Gavilan’s verdict was greeted by boos despite the obvious facial damage sported by Basilio. Everyone at ringside believed the champion had swung the fight back in his favour after round 2 winning the fight by a small margin.
Basilio’s biggest battle was against the mob. It seemed rather ironic that the man who was inspired by one of the mob’s most notoriously managed fighters, Primo Carnera, would become known as their most stubborn boxing adversary. He was ranked the number one contender for the world welterweight title for two years without being granted a shot and five years later would speak as a witness for the prosecution against the International Boxing Club. His war with them would later be made into a ESPN documentary, “Fighting the Mob: The Story of Carmen Basilio.”
After his fight with Gavilan he won another fight against his old rival Johnny Cunningham, drew against Pierre Langlois and Italo Scortichini, before beating them both in rematches immediately afterwards within the space of four weeks. He then won his next six fights as Johnny Saxton’s mafia management tried to side-step him. They took a wrong gamble with fellow Italian Tony DeMarco who they believed Saxton could confidently out-box. Knowing he wouldn’t get Saxton, Basilio had nevertheless got DeMarco to sign a contract to say he would fight him 70 days later should he win the title. When DeMarco stopped an overwhelmed Saxton in round 14, Basilio had secured his second shot at the welterweight crown.
Basilio stood at 5′ 6 1/2″. Basilio was a pressure fighter, a swarmer with an iron chin. He had a determined and relentless style that promised a blood and guts duel with the classical slugger that was DeMarco. Basilio suffered to cut weight, going without water for a day to get down to 146 lbs to DeMarco’s 145 lbs. Like DeMarco, Basilio was a converted southpaw and they both shared the same best weapon: the left hook. The legendary coach, Angelo Dundee was Basilio’s cornerman but the “Upstate Onion Farmer” always prided himself on being self-trained.
The match took place at War Memorial Auditorium, Syracuse, New York.
The early rounds went DeMarco. Nevertheless, Basilio had a strong long game plan. Early on in round one we saw Basilio drop his left to invite DeMarco to come forward. Despite being a swarmer he used his reach advantage to goad DeMarco forward.
Round 3 – DeMarco came out early with his best punch, the left hook that stunned Basilio. The challenger clinched to clear his head and then there were back to fighting in the pocket as their styles dictated. Basilio used a lot of bobbing and weaving to make DeMarco miss. Here Basilio set up the timing for DeMarco to keep missing.
Round 4 – Basilio kept the work rate up and continued to try to goad DeMarco to punch himself out. However, by the end of this round the champion’s lead hand punches (his dominant hand) were landing.
Round 5 – DeMarco put more pressure on and was ahead on points. This might have been down to the fact that Basilio kept giving DeMarco room. Basilio landed some good shots to the body towards the end of the round. His strikes to the side were also taking the toll on the champion.
Round 6 -DeMarco continued to land body shaking punches, but he was unable to land a powerful combination that was more likely to put Basilio down. Again, Basilio’s swarming strengths weren’t being played due to DeMarco, despite being a slugger, having the shorter range. With the punch trading, DeMarco was winning but Basilio was still breaking the champion’s posture.
Round 8 – Basilio used his jab to reasonable effect but DeMarco came back with some thundering rights. This time DeMarco began to land body shots and one clearly hurt the challenger. As they came in close Basilio leaned in and began winning the exchanges.
Round 9 – DeMarco was still ahead but keen to get a knockout. He began to miss more frequently and Basilio routinely went to the body to good effect.
Round 10 – Cut over the right eye, DeMarco came out visibly tired and on the back foot. Basilio’s plan was working and he dropped the champion after a brief attempt by the champion to regroup. The challenger sent DeMarco down again with another overhand right within seconds of the Bomber getting back into the fight. DeMarco rose again showing tremendous heart. The bell rang and saved DeMarco from more punishment that he was willingly wading into.
Round 11 – After the doctor cleared DeMarco, the champion came out keen to put the challenger down. However, he was still extremely tired and Basilio was eager fight on the inside. Basilio leant in and landed a range of punches. Finally, one of DeMarco’s bombs landed with good effect. Still, it was not enough to put Basilio down and the two traded at close range.
Round 12 -Fighting in the centre of the ring, Basilio kept picking his shots as DeMarco missed with punches. Finally, the referee step in to save DeMarco from more punishment.
The title changed hands yet again and Carmen Basilio became the new World Welterweight champion.
Carmen Basilio versus Tony DeMarco II Undisputed World Welterweight Championship 30.11.1955
After the fight Basilio took a non-title match against Italo Scortichini again and won by unanimous decision. This was followed by a non-title najority decision over Gil Turner. He then returned to Boston to defend his title for the first time against its previous holder. The fight was held at the location where DeMarco had first won the title from Saxton, Boston Garden. DeMarco had fought once since losing the belt where he knocked out Chico Vejar in the first round at the same venue. DeMarco was attempting what no one had done since Barney Ross in 1935: win back the world welterweight title.
13,373 turned out to watch the rematch. Despite Basilio’s stoppage in the previous fight, ESPN reported that “the local betting gentry was so sure that DeMarco would regain his crown that they had put their money where their faith was, bringing the prefight odds down to 6-5, pick ’em.” Tony DeMarco entered the fight with a record of 47-6-1 and Carmen Basilio was 47-11-7. The theory was that DeMarco had simply run out of steam after round seven from the previous fight and up to the that point had been battering Basilio. He was also by far the harder puncher with his recent one round defeat of Vejar offering evidence to this effect. Both men had won 47 fights, but 30 of DeMarcos had come via knockout whereas Basilio had one 21 this way. DeMarco’s previous performance against the champion had been put down to the fact he had been forced to take fight so soon after winning it from Saxton. However, a bigger deciding factor for both this fights might have been revealed by the fact that whereas both men had undeniably iron chins, DeMarco had been stopped twice in his career whereas Basilio, despite losing and drawing more matches than his opponent, had never been stopped and only been knocked down once in his career.
We didn’t have footage of rounds 1, 2, 3 and 4, but this is what I have gleaned from reports on the fight:
Round 1 was DeMarco’s. He came out with a plan to stick and move more rather than be pulled into the trenches. He came with confidence and won the round, firing off two left hooks and a hard straight right just before the bell. Round 2 had seen more of a fast-paced slugfest with DeMarco going for the head and Basilio aiming for the body. Basilio changed his punches to upstairs, cutting DeMarco over his left eye and also breaking his own left hand. Round 3 saw Basilio take the fight to DeMarco as he tried to compensate for the loss of his left hook’s potency with hard rights to the head and body. Despite shaking the champion with a four-punch combination, DeMarco kept missing the bobbing swarmer who took round 3.
Round 4 – We picked up the action here. The tide of the fight appeared to be reversed in round 4 as DeMarco, possibly sensing a weakness in Basilio’s attacks, unleashed his heavy punches to the champion’s head. After some uncharacteristic caution being shown by both fighters at the beginning both landed hard right hooks bringing a cheer from the audience. Basilio aimed for the body and DeMarco stayed high. DeMarco’s best punch, the left hook, staggered Basilio three feet back into the ropes. The champion recovered quickly and waded back into the fray. With just under a minute left DeMarco caught Basilio with yet another stinging punch walking him onto a straight right. The champion now wore a slight cut over his right eye. Basilio showed some good head movement and landed a few hooks but DeMarco won the round, landing his own just before the bell.
Round 5 – DeMarco appeared to abandon the stick and move plan by keeping to the pace he set in the previous round. He head-hunted the champion landing left/right and right/left combinations that brought cheers from the crowd. Towards the end of the round, DeMarco’s keeness to knock out Basilio soon was demontrated by some stance switching where he walked across the ring landing his rights. Basilio muffled the attacks and continued to throw punches to his opponent’s mid-section. As the bell went he was still wading in, determined to turn back the tide. Later Basilio would say that he felt DeMarco’s punches were losing their sting. However, this would not align with what we would see in round 6 and especially 7.
Round 6 – The round opened with both fights placing shots and find their range. Early on a brief exchange where Basilio went to the body DeMarco landed two left hooks. Basilio tied up the challenger and dug in with more right hooks. He flicked out his left, disguising the damage but now visibly not using it as a power hand. He also used his right over-hook and lean on DeMarco, probably to wear him down. For all of Basilio’s decent amount of head movement, he did not show a lot of intelligent protection at this point. DeMarco continued to land heavy punches on his open chin. A welt began to emerge under the champion’s left eye.
Round 7 – Two minutes of the round saw a lot of caution and jab exchanging. Basilio tied up DeMarco a few times and DeMarco, now appearing to be slower, kept throwing large overhand rights. Basilio ducked and rolled low allowing the challenger’s punches to sail harmlessly over. At around the 30 second mark Basilio tried to rely on landing a right, but DeMarco caught his opponent with his signature left hook. The champion’s legs were shakey and DeMarco, smelling blood, steamed in with his usual torrent of finishing blows. Angelo Dundee called from Basilio’s corner to take the knee for an 8-count to rest. However, the champion surprised everyone by being able to weather the storm for the remainder of the round and rolled to avoid around 15 power shots. “I got hit on the point of the chin,” he would explain to author Peter Heller in “In This Corner: Forty World Champions Tell Their Stories”, “It was a left hook that hit the right point of my chin. What happens is it pulls your jawbone out of your socket from the right side and jams into the left side and the nerve there paralyzed the whole left side of my body, especially my leg. My left knee buckled and I almost went down, but when I got back to my corner the bottom of my foot felt like it had needles about six inches high and I just kept stamping my foot on the floor, trying to bring it back. And by the time the bell rang for the eighth round it was all right.”
Round 8 – Basilio could be seen stamping his feet, as described, on his stool just as the bell rang. DeMarco was ahead on the scorecards now but continued to resort landing big punches. With little setups in sight and further emboldened by the knockout he could taste in the previous round, the challenger resorted to throw continuous power shots. Similar to their previous fight, the shorter armed DeMarco was adopting a swarmer’s style of fighting. The problem here was these were the punches of a slugger and every time he missed he wasted more power. He may have been called the “Miniature Marciano”, but he lacked Rocky’s footwork that enabled him to better corner opponents and drove the relentless pressure. Furthermore, he wasn’t a natural swarmer. This was Basilio’s domain and proof that DeMarco’s power was waning was demonstrated when finally a good right hit Basilio’s head. The champion shook it off and then did well to roll away from the others as well as tie up the challenger.
Round 9 – DeMarco’s right eye had a cut above it and his corner worked hard to stem the flow. The challenger still looked the steadier of the two fighters. He was still ahead on the scorecards and his hometown was behind him. However, his big haymaker sweeps kept meeting air before Basilio closed the distance with his shoulder and muffled the slowing onslaught. DeMarco began using his left to set a datum, as before, for a big overhand that missed by a mile.
Round 10 – Cut over the right eye, DeMarco came out visibly tired and on the back foot. Basilio’s plan was working and he dropped the champion after a brief attempt by the champion to regroup. The challenger sent DeMarco down again with another overhand right within seconds of the Bomber getting back into the fight. DeMarco rose again showing tremendous heart. The bell rang and saved DeMarco from more punishment that he was willingly wading into.
Round 11 – After the doctor cleared DeMarco, the champion came out keen to put the challenger down. However, he was still extremely tired and Basilio was eager fight on the inside. Basilio leant in and landed a range of punches. Finally, one of DeMarco’s bombs landed with good effect. Still, it was not enough to put Basilio down and the two traded at close range.
Round 12 -Fighting in the centre of the ring, Basilio kept picking his shots as DeMarco missed with punches. Finally, the referee steps in to save DeMarco from more punishment.
The rematch lasted just two seconds longer than the first one. DeMarco was still standing when the referee stepped in but he collapsed to the canvas a few seconds later and did not get up for close to two minutes.
Ring Magazine awarded the DeMarco/Basilio World Welterweight Championship rematch Fight of the Year for 1955. Basilio’s fights would win this accolade five times in a row. Although Muhammad Ali would beat the total number of fights by one, no other fighter has been involved in as many consecutive fights to have won this award. Basilio would also win Fighter of the Year in 1957.
Basilio vs Demarco, Basilio is knocked into the corner by a vicious DeMarco shot, you can see Basilio's knees buckled.
Tony DeMarco lands another bomb on Carmen Basilio.
The fights between Basilio and DeMarco were just brutal.
Basilio floors DeMarco.
This is one of the most famous photos in boxing history, Carmen Basilio celebrates after knocking out Tony DeMarco.
Carmen Basilio fought Sugar Ray Robinson twice, both fights were apocalyptic. In their first fight, Carmen Basilio upset Sugar Ray Robinson and took his middleweight crown. The first fight itself is beautiful. Non-stop, fast-paced action, as Robinson works his jab expertly throughout, but Basilio just keeps pressing, bobbing, weaving, always aggressive. In the late rounds they’re both exhausted, but they keep fighting at a savage pace right to the end, neither of them backing down. It’s exciting to see the two men taking themselves beyond the limit, working from some weird otherplace of honour and mutual respect. They just never let up. It was a difficult match to score, because they were both fighting at close quarters for most of it and at a furious pace, both throwing and catching, slipping and blocking. In the end, the cards read 9-5-1 Basilio, 9-6-1 Robinson, and 8-6-1 Basilio, giving the rough and tumble onion farmer the middleweight crown. In the rematch, Sugar Ray Robinson regained his middleweight crown and the fight produced some of the most famous boxing photos of all-time, the image of Carmen Basilio sitting in his dressing room with the swollen eye.
CARMEN BASILIO-SUGAR RAY ROBINSON 2: WARFARE NEVER TO BE SEEN AGAIN
A lot has happened in boxing over the past 63 years. Much change has been initiated. Where once there were eight classic weight divisions with one universally accepted world champion in each, there are now 17 divisions, with four self-important “major” sanctioning bodies asserting that their alphabetized titleholders are the true claimants to such a designation. Some of today’s champs, particularly elite ones, get paid much more to fight far less often than their predecessors. Enhanced safety standards have led to the abolishment of 15-round title bouts with 12-rounders now in their stead, and bouts in which a particular fighter is deemed to be absorbing too much punishment are stopped much more quickly than had been the case in past generations.
In light of those developments, what happened the night of March 25, 1958, in Chicago Stadium is a prime example of what used to be but no longer is, a historically significant event perhaps beyond replication. The legendary Sugar Ray Robinson’s 15-round split decision win over defending middleweight ruler Carmen Basilio elevated him to dominion over the 160-pound weight class for the fifth time, a record that now seems as unreachable to current practitioners of the pugilistic arts as is Archie Moore’s long-standing and incredible stockpile of 132 knockout victories.
Perhaps as notable as the original Sugar Ray’s cha-cha of bejeweled middleweight belts won and lost or relinquished was the sight of the valiant Basilio in his first and only defense of that title. Fighting from the sixth round on with a massive, purplish hematoma on his totally closed left eye, the undersized “Upstate Onion Farmer,” the inspiration for the establishment of the International Boxing Hall of Fame in his hometown of Canastota, New York, went toe-to-toe with Robinson for nine-plus rounds with his vision severely restricted by something that resembled a rotting eggplant.
Robinson and Basilio had set the stage for what was justifiably named The Ring’s 1958 Fight of the Year by engaging in a virtually identical blood-and-guts showdown six months earlier in Yankee Stadium. Basilio, the reigning welterweight champion, had lifted Sugar Ray’s crown on, natch, another 15-round split decision that was fraught with excitement and two-way action. That fight, which took place on September 23, 1957, also was anointed as The Ring’s Fight of the Year. But if Robinson’s collection of five undisputed middleweight championships seems remarkable, and it does, consider this: action hero Basilio was a participant in The Bible of Boxing’s FOY for five years inclusive, from 1955 through ’59, the others being knockouts of Tony DeMarco (1955) and Johnny Saxton (1956) in rematches, and a knockout loss to Gene Fullmer (1959) in the first of their two matchups.
In legend and lore, Jake LaMotta is often recited as Robinson’s most memorable opponent, but that largely owes to the fact they squared off six times, so frequently that Jake liked to quip that “I fought Sugar Ray so often it’s a wonder I don’t have diabetes.” But had there been a rubber match involving Robinson and Basilio, and particularly if it was another thrill-fest as were the first two meetings, that arch-rivalry in triplicate might now rank alongside the Holy Trinity of boxing that is Muhammad Ali vs. Joe Frazier.
“He wouldn’t give me a rematch. He knew I won,” Basilio, who was 85 when he died on November 7, 2012, frequently complained, the inference being that Sugar Ray had had much of what remained of his ring sweetness drained from him by the punishment he had taken over 30 rounds of intense combat with a relentless, undiscouraged attacker who, in a manner of speaking, played the role of an early Smokin’ Joe to Robinson’s Ali. It is not an unreasonable premise; two hours after he had his hand raised in victory, a dog-tired and well-pummeled Robinson had to be assisted to bed in his Chicago hotel suite.
“Even the soles of my feet hurt,” the man who arguably is the greatest prizefighter ever to lace up a pair of padded gloves said in a voice barely above a whisper.
And just as the defeated but defiant Frazier had boasted after the “Thrilla in Manila” ended with Joe’s compassionate trainer, Eddie Futch, not allowing his nearly blinded fighter to come out for the 15th round against an equally battered Ali, Basilio, his grotesquely swollen left eye notwithstanding, said, “I walked out under my own power. They had to carry (Robinson) out.”
Truth be told, the epic nature of the two Robinson-Basilio confrontations might have owed to the extremely high mileage on both fighters’ professional odometers, and particularly that of Sugar Ray, who was 36 when he went into the rematch with Carmen with a 140-6-2 record in a pro career launched in 1939. As impressive as that mark was, it is generally accepted that the man whose birth name was Walker Smith Jr. was always more spectacular as a welterweight than he was as a middleweight. Before he began dropping hints that he was merely mortal, after he returned to boxing after a three-year European sojourn as a song-and-dance man, Robinson had been 123-1-2. Among boxing immortals atop Mount Olympus, Sugar Ray reigned long as Zeus. But even gods of the ring are as susceptible to the natural laws of diminishing returns as the rest of us, and Robinson went into battle an almost incomprehensible 13 times in 1949, although his welterweight title was on the line only once during that span.
Robinson’s slide from on high to a place where indisputable greatness has been replaced by something less magnificent was never more evident than the night of January 19, 1955, when he dropped a shockingly one-sided, 10-round decision to capable gatekeeper Ralph “Tiger” Jones, also in Chicago Stadium. Writing in the New York Journal American, noted sports columnist Jimmy Cannon authored what he believed was Sugar Ray’s pugilistic obituary. “There is a language spoken on the face of the earth in which you can be kind when you tell a man he is old and should stop pretending he is young,” Cannon wrote. “Old fighters, who go beyond the limits of their age, resent it when you tell them they’re through … what he had is gone. The pride isn’t. The gameness isn’t. The insolent faith in himself is still there … but the pride and the gameness and that insolent faith get in the way. He was marvelous, but he isn’t anymore.”
Cannon’s epitaph for Robinson proved a bit premature. After the stinker vs. Jones, a rebounding Robinson won the middleweight title against Bobo Olson, lost it to Gene Fullmer, won it back from Fullmer on that picture-perfect left hook, lost it again to Basilio. For the grudge rematch – Basilio was respectful of Robinson the fighter, but openly resentful toward his haughty attitude toward upcoming opponents in contract negotiations – the new champ went off as an 8-5 favorite and was the pick of 21 of 34 on-site fight writers, despite the challenger’s obvious physical advantages. Robinson was 5’11” to Basilio’s 5’6½”, weighed in at 159¾ to Basilio’s 153½ and had a 72-inch reach. Basilio’s reach was not announced or recorded, but most estimates pegged it at three or four inches shy of Robinson’s.
Some of the media on hand to chronicle the event dusted off the Sugar Ray-is-done theme forwarded by Cannon two years earlier. Bill Lee, sports editor of the Hartford Courant, opined that “Robinson should have been washed up six or eight years ago. His speed is gone and perhaps his durability has died with the speed.”
Nor was the Chicago Tribune’s Bill Strickler impressed by what he had seen of Robinson after his narrow escape against Basilio, who might as well have fought with pirate’s eyepatch covering his grotesquely swollen left eye. In his post-fight report, Strickler wrote that the very best of Sugar Ray “is gone. The Robinson of today is just a good fighter, who flopped on his stool between rounds, arm weary and gasping, then had to be helped to his dressing room.
“From the opening round to the end, and especially thru (sic) the late stretches when Basilio got no rest between rounds as his seconds plied him with ice packs and medicines, Robinson resembled a man looking for something he could not find.”
Whether those harsh assessments of Robinson’s then-status were valid or not hardly seems the issue. He and the wounded Basilio had nonetheless again made magic inside the ropes, perhaps in part because they both had settled onto a more or less similar competitive plane, perhaps because what Basilio had elected to endure rose to the level of near-superhuman endurance.
Basilio was 64 when he recalled the fourth-round punch that almost instantly begun to close the eye, which was completely shut by Round 6. “(Robinson) had a vicious uppercut,” he said. “He threw that f—— punch five times. I blocked the first four but the fifth one got through. It cut a blood vessel and my eyelid just blew up. My (co-)manager, Joe Netro, wanted to stop the fight. I told him, `You stop this fight and you better not be in town when I get out of the ring.’”
Was the eye as agonizing as it must have appeared to be to the 17,976 in-house spectators, a CBS television audience and 350,000 or so purchasers of tickets to the closed-circuit telecasts at 114 sites around the United States and Canada?
“I was in excruciating pain,” Basilio confirmed. “I slept with an ice bag on it for two days. But it was OK. Right now I can see great out of this eye.”
Carmen Basilio, between rounds of his fight-of-the-year rematch with Sugar Ray Robinson, is the epitome of the blood-and-guts warrior.
Basilio’s corner team – trainer Angelo Dundee and co-managers Netro and Johnny De John – were criticized for allowing their guy to fight on in such a distressed condition, but Dundee’s decision not to lance the blood-gorged area between the fifth and sixth rounds with a sterile razor blade he had brought for just such a purpose might have proved a saving grace. Several days after the fight, Dr. Richard A. Perritt, an eye specialist at Wesley Memorial Hospital in Chicago, examined Basilio’s left eye after the swelling had gone down. He determined that the lancing of the hematoma might have resulted in infection of veins leading to Carmen’s brain, with cerebral thrombosis and permanent eye damage as possible results.
Although judges Spike McAdams (72-64) and John Bray (71-64) saw Robinson as the winner by fairly wide margins using the five-point must system then in effect, referee Frank Sikora had it 69-66 for Basilio, which might have been closer to the truth. Basilio-Robinson II was a close fight, and a terrific one, and something that never could happen now.
For a story I did on the first pairing of then-heavyweight champion Floyd Patterson and Swedish challenger Ingemar Johansson, which took place on June 26, 1959, in Yankee Stadium, Dr. Margaret Goodman – the Las Vegas-based neurologist and former chief ringside physician for the Nevada State Athletic Commission – pointed out that Ingo’s seven floorings of Patterson, all in the third round, are a relic from an era that has passed into history and isn’t coming around again.
“Seven knockdowns in one round are obviously excessive,” she stressed. “Thank goodness times have changed. The standard for the way things were handled back then were different. There was a greater likelihood of allowing a fighter to continue taking that kind of punishment. How horrible is that?”
Basilio’s display of agonizing one-eyed courage, like Patterson’s going to the canvas seven times in the same round, are just two examples of boxing’s evolution from its shadowy past into a more sanitized version of itself. So, too, is the likelihood that the powers that be would have denied the great Sugar Ray Robinson – who kept on keeping on until November 10, 1965, when he dropped a one-sided UD10 to Joey Archer in Pittsburgh – authorized approval to do so after it long since had become apparent that he was a shell of his former self, and not only physically. The king of the ring was just 67 when he breathed his last on April 12, 1989. By then the accumulated effect of 200 professional bouts (174-19-6, with one no-decision), not to mention 89 more as an amateur, had contributed to his being confined to a wheelchair, unable to recall details of his career or to recognize the faces of loved ones.
It is right and proper to celebrate what the fight game has gained in its inexorable march of progress, but it is also right to bemoan at least some of what has been lost. Robinson-Basilio II is just such a time-capsule heirloom.
Some great photos of the Carmen Basilio vs Sugar Ray Robinson fights.