Canzoneri had many battles with all-time great legends, his first fight with Kid Chocolate in 1931 was a classic, one of the greatest fights of all-time, great mixture of technical boxing and a slugfest. Kid Chocolate is a legend in this sport as well, he was from Cuba, a really slick boxer who was also ahead of his time stylistically, Chocolate was the reigning Super Featherweight and Jr. Lightweight champion, decided to try and move up to fight Lightweight champ Tony Canzoneri. The fight ended in a SD win for Canzoneri, it was about as close a fight as one can get, with both fighters having their moments. Their second fight in 1933 didn't disappoint either, but Canzoneri wouldn't let this fight end up in the hands the judges, he ended matters quickly.
James P. Dawson of the New York Times wrote:
"Tony Canzoneri knocked out Kid Chocolate last night in the most spectacular lightweight battle in a local ring since the night Benny Leonard stopped Richie Mitchell... Before 13,000 wildly excited boxing followers in Madison Square Garden, Chocolate suffered his first knockout loss... A right hand punch finished him after 2 minutes 30 seconds of the second round. But more blood and thunder was crowded into that five and one half minutes than has been seen here in years."
Tony Canzoneri and Jimmy McLarnin "The Belfast Spider", one of the great rivalries of the 1930s. Of course Mclarnin is an all-time great as well, he was Irish and was a murderous puncher, he had many nicknames, he was called"The Irish Lullaby" because he could put people to sleep, he was also called "The Murderous Mick" because of his KO power. By the time they met, Canzoneri was on the decline, but he still managed to beat Mclarnin once, they fought twice, with both fighters winning a bout, so the series ended a 1-1 tie.
Oct. 5, 1936: Canzoneri vs McLarnin
October 5, 2024 Robert Portis
Tony Canzoneri vs Jimmy McLarnin. Two of the very best from one of boxing’s greatest decades, the 1930’s, the Depression years, that glorious time of Kid Chocolate, Barney Ross, Henry Armstrong and Joe Louis.
Only a year separated the two greats in age and by 1936 they were both grizzled, though still-formidable, veterans. But between May of that year, when the two gave fight fans a thrilling ten round battle, and the following October when they locked up a second time, something happened to Canzoneri. A gifted pugilist in his prime, with sharp reflexes, crafty moves and dangerous power in both fists, he suddenly didn’t have it anymore. His prime was gone for good.
Canzoneri vs McLarnin
Just the year before “Canzi” was still a force to be reckoned with, seemingly not that far removed from the form he had when he was regarded as clearly the finest boxer in the game with big wins over Jackie “Kid” Berg, Kid Chocolate and Billy Petrolle. In fact, less than two years prior he had dropped a pair of close, hard-fought decision battles to Barney Ross and then in May of ’35 he regained the lightweight crown from the always tough Lou Ambers.
Meanwhile McLarnin was coming off his own great series with Ross, a trilogy of superb fifteen round battles which saw “The Baby Faced Assassin” lose the first and third clashes, leaving McLarnin empty-handed in terms of title belts. Not in terms of money, though. All three matches had been huge events and McLarnin looked to only add more funds to his bulging bank account as he set to rumble with Canzoneri at Madison Square Garden twice in the same year, both matches scheduled for ten rounds.
Canzoneri battles Ambers.
The first Canzoneri vs McLarnin match was a terrific battle that only became more dramatic with each action-packed round. It was made further memorable due to a bizarre incident just before the opening bell. After receiving the referee’s instructions, Canzoneri turned and walked into the overhead microphone hard enough to leave him slightly dazed. Naturally McLarnin took advantage, battering Tony about the ring in the opening round, but after that, “The Dublin Dynamiter” was clearly out-classed as Canzoneri recovered and went on to out-box his rival with authority. Bouncing energetically about the ring and consistently beating McLarnin to the punch, the Italian-American showed the New York fans the kind of skills which had made him one of boxing’s truly great lightweight champions. He even tried for a knockout in the last two stanzas and the judges all gave Tony the win by scores of eight rounds to two.
The two veterans pose for the
cameras.
But as it turned out, that was Canzoneri’s last great performance. Four months later he defended his lightweight title against Ambers and he suddenly appeared aged beyond his years, dropping a one-sided points loss that saw “The Herkimer Hurricane” win almost every round. Afterwards, no less an expert than Benny Leonard judged Canzoneri finished as an elite fighting force. “Youth licked Tony tonight,” he told the press. “After all, he’s been tossing leather for eleven years.”
But Canzoneri was far from ready to pack it in. A month later, it was time for a rematch with McLarnin, but the second meeting of these two ring legends would be of a very different order from their first. The match in May had been a thrilling shoot-out with both men looking to land big shots, but McLarnin’s aggressiveness had given Canzoneri chances to counter and land solid blows.
Canzoneri vs McLarnin
This time McLarnin boxed conservatively behind his left jab and it proved a winning strategy. Canzoneri couldn’t get past the left hand of “The Belfast Spider” and in the later rounds he bore the wounds of war: a swollen and bleeding right eye and a split lip. He was such a gory sight that by the seventh round fans were calling for the match to be stopped, but the proud former champion survived to hear the final bell.
The decision went to McLarnin, who would compete just once more, winning a ten round non-title match against Ambers, before he walked away from boxing for good. But his adversary, despite the fact he just no longer had the spark that made him an all-time great, journeyed on, losing another bid for the world title against Ambers and then answering the bell twenty-two more times before Al “Bummy” Davis knocked him out with his powerful left hook and finally ended the amazing career of the one-and-only Tony Canzoneri. — Robert Portis
Tony Canzoneri and Lou Ambers, "The Herkimer Hurricane." If you're not familiar with Ambers, he's an all-time great, and he idolized Canzoneri, he was actually a sparring partner with Canzoneri at one point in time, so the two got to know eachother very well, personally and in the ring. It was quite the rivalry, a fighter going toe-to-toe with his idol.
Sept. 3, 1936: Ambers vs Canzoneri
September 3, 2025 Robert Portis
Tony Canzoneri was already a lock for the Hall of Fame, not to mention an all-time great lightweight when he entered Madison Square Garden in May of 1935 to face a fresh-faced Lou Ambers for the vacant championship of the world. The great Barney Ross had walked away from the 135 pound title to compete at welterweight and Ambers vs Canzoneri was the obvious pairing to decide the next champion. But “The Herkimer Hurricane” was five years younger and his elder had a lot of hard miles on those frail-looking legs; the wiseguys pegged Canzoneri as the underdog.
Canzoneri in his prime.
So imagine their surprise when it was Canzoneri, not Ambers, who came flying out of his corner at the opening bell, throwing lethal right hands. He scored two knockdowns in round three and after holding off a late-round charge from Ambers he heard the cheers as he was awarded a lop-sided points win and his fifth world title. Ambers had been Tony’s sparring partner not that long before, but he hadn’t yet learned enough to better his old mentor. The first Ambers vs Canzoneri tilt surprised many and appeared to prove that there was still plenty of life left in the veteran scrapper.
Little did anyone know at the time, but it would prove to be one of Canzoneri’s last great performances. While only twenty-six, he had competed in over 130 pro bouts, including some grueling battles with Ross, Benny Bass, Kid Chocolate, Frankie Klick, Billy Petrolle and many others. And in fact, between that first clash with Ambers and the second, Canzoneri answered the bell eleven times, all victories, but there were some punishing scraps along the way, including tough distance battles with Klick and Jimmy McLarnin. Meanwhile Ambers, with only fifty matches to his credit, was just getting started.
Lou Ambers
But the oddsmakers saw only Canzoneri’s hot streak of fourteen straight wins and his one-sided victory over Ambers the previous May, and decided it was now the man from Herkimer, New York who was the underdog. How wrong they were, as that night it was clear to a near-capacity crowd in Madison Square Garden that Canzoneri just didn’t have it anymore.
This time it was Ambers who seized the initiative early, shaking Tony with a hard one-two in the third round and by the fifth the champion was bleeding from the nose. In contrast to their first meeting, Canzoneri had great difficulty finding the target with his dangerous right, though he staged a rally in rounds nine and ten to stay in it. But the late going saw Ambers back in control and when the final decision in his favour was announced none disputed it. Ambers was clearly the sharper, fresher and more effective fighter.
Two all-time greats mix it up.
“I was slow tonight,” lamented the former champ in his dressing room, blaming his showing on a four month layoff. “Guess I needed a fight under my belt. I’d like to take him right back tomorrow.”
But most observers agreed that activity was not the reason for Canzoneri’s less-than-impressive performance.
“Youth licked Tony tonight,” declared former lightweight king Benny Leonard to the press. “After all, he’s been tossing leather for eleven years.”
Canzoneri and Ambers exchange jabs in the late going.
The new champion echoed that sentiment: “Tony beat me a year ago because he was too fast and experienced. Tonight he punched as hard as ever but he was terribly slow and I had no trouble hitting him. Of course I’ll give him another fight if he wants it, because I know he’ll never be the old Canzoneri again.”
And indeed “Canzi” took a bloody battering from McLarnin in his next outing and when he got another crack at Ambers in May of the following year, the result was an even more one-sided fifteen round win for “The Herkimer Hurricane.” Canzoneri was an all-time great, a legend, a fighter whose name and reputation would never be forgotten. But no one could deny: the glory days were fading fast.
A happy Ambers after his big win.
As for Ambers, he was, without a doubt, the best 135-pounder on the planet, the new king of the lightweight castle as Canzoneri, Ross and Petrolle all contemplated the sands of time and retirement. And indeed it would take a fighter as great as the immortal Henry Armstrong to get the better of him in 1938 and, after a grueling fifteen round war, relieve him of the title he had taken from “Canzi.” — Robert Portis
Tony Canzoneri knocks out Al Singer in the first round to win the World Lightweight Championship on November 14, 1930. The knockout occurred just 56 seconds into the fight at Madison Square Garden.
Tony Canzoneri in the cover of Ring magazine in July 1927. These old issues of Ring magazine can be pretty hard to come by and often go for steep prices.
Just heard the terrible news that Ricky "The Hitman" Hatton passed away. Sad news, he is one of my favorites, one of the most vicious and greatest body punchers in the history of the sport, and a real gladiator.
I like to call Ricky Hatton "The Mad Hatter", that's the nickname I made up for him, it's just a cool nickname. Anyway, this is Ricky Hatton vs Jose Luis Castillo in 2007, and Hatton catches Castillo with a body shot to the liver and Castillo goes to one knee and the pain from the body shot will not allow his body to physically rise and beat the count, it's a thing of beauty watching a great body puncher.
Ricky Hatton's greatest moment was when he scored a monumental upset and beat the great Kostya "The Thunder From Down Under" Tszyu, on June 4th, 2005. Tszyu was a legend, and he earned his nickname because of his fierce and powerful fighting style, he was a punching machine. Nobody gave Hatton a chance in hell to beat Tszyu, but he pulled it off and defeated Tszyu by TKO in the 11th round at the M.E.N. Arena in Manchester, England, to win the IBF Light Welterweight title. Hatton's relentless pressure and body punches wore down the veteran Tszyu, forcing him to retire on his stool at the end of the 11th round. Here is what Hatton had to say about that night.
Mike Tyson bit Evander Holyfield's ear in their 1997 rematch as retaliation for what Tyson perceived as Holyfield's repeated, intentional headbutts, which the referee failed to stop. Tyson also stated he was enraged and wanted to inflict pain, possibly realizing he was losing the fight. The biting resulted in a disqualification loss for Tyson and Holyfield remained the heavyweight champion.
Mike Tyson was a freaking wild man the night he bit Holyfield's ear off, a real savage, he snapped and went crazy. This is a photo of the Las Vegas police standing in front of him to keep him back after he bit Holyfield.
One of the most iconic boxing photos ever taken, Luis Angel Firpo, "The Wild Bull of the Pampas", an Argentina heavyweight with murderous punching power, knocks heavyweight champion Jack Dempsey through the ropes. In the most exciting fight of Jack Dempsey's iconic career, he defended his world heavyweight title in one of the fiercest battles ever fought between heavyweights and knocked out the powerful Luis Firpo in front of 80,000 at the Polo Grounds in 1923.
It was the first time that a Latin American fighter would challenge for the world heavyweight championship.
No champion ever had a closer call.
In the first round, after Firpo had gone down seven times, one of his long smashing rights caught Dempsey fairly and knocked him clear through the ropes. The champion's head disappeared over the edge of the ring, his white-clad legs shot up in the air, and it seemed a new world champion was about to enter into his glory. On the count of nine, Dempsey managed to stagger back into the ring with the help of newspapers reporters sitting ringside, but the end of the round found him obviously badly shaken, and staggering as he had never been staggered before.
In the second round Firpo's right was too slow to reach the champion, who was striking in with all his power. He caught Firpo with a right and put him down. Two seconds later the challenger was up but a moment more and he was down again for a count of five. Once more Firpo staggered to his feet, Dempsey was on him instantly, caught him with a left to the jaw and then toppled him with a right as he sank. Bleeding slightly at the mouth, Firpo turned slowly over, striving vainly to rise as the referee's pumping arm reached the counts of eight and nine, and stiffened helplessly as the tenth count ended his championship hopes for the time.
Here is what Dempsey had to say about Firpo knocking him through the ropes:
"He is game and the hardest puncher I ever faced. It was the first time I was knocked down since I became champion and I'll never forget it... I didn't even know he had knocked me out of the ring until I came to on my stool between rounds. I thought I had been knocked out." - Jack Dempsey
One of the greatest victories by a Cuban fighter, "El Chacal" or "The Jackal" Guillermo Rigondeaux unified the junior featherweight title with a 12 round unanimous decision over Nonito Donaire at Radio City Music Hall in New York in 2013.
Though Rigondeaux was a slight underdog, he was a legendary amateur in Cuba, having won two Olympic gold medals, multiple Cuban amateur titles and World Amateur Championship titles. "El Chacal" utilized savvy and deft timing to hand the 31-1 Donaire his first loss in 12 years. Donaire came into the fight as 2012's "Fighter of the Year" for the highly respected run he was on.
As most counterpuncher vs counterpuncher matchups tend to, this fight opened up somewhat slowly as both fighters tried to feint the other out of position and refused to give up much. That was Rigondeaux's game, however, and Donaire had difficulty connecting.
The crowd of about 6,000 at the classic venue booed the lack of action, which again indicated that the fight was going how Rigondeaux preferred. Indeed Rigondeaux kept Donaire from being able to get anything going while landing sharper punches.
In round 10, Donaire finally broke through while southpaw inside and landed a left hand that put Rigondeaux down. Unfortunately it only seemed to wake Rigondeaux up, and the Cuban smacked Donaire around even worse in the championship rounds before winning a decision and The Ring's junior bantamweight championship.
“You saw it, moving, boxing," Rigondeaux said. "You can’t win by landing one shot. Donaire is an excellent fighter, but you can’t win a fight with one shot.”
“I apologize," said Donaire after the loss. "I wanted to deliver. During the last two rounds I got stupid. I felt his power in the last round. I wanted to put him away. There was a lot of pressure on me, I’ve got ligament damage in my shoulder and I need surgery. It was my mistake for not changing up throughout the fight. I have no excuse, he beat me tonight.”
"The Golden Boy" Oscar De La Hoya won a tense grudge match against "Ferocious" Fernando Vargas by 11th round TKO to win The Ring and unified junior middleweight titles at the Mandalay Bay Resort & Casino in Las Vegas, Nevada in 2002.
Vargas was angry at de la Hoya for a perceived insult from years earlier, when both trained in Big Bear, California. Vargas said he'd slipped on ice, and rather than help, De La Hoya continued with his road work and jogged away laughing at him. De la Hoya claimed the incident never happened, but it apparently fueled Vargas' animosity toward his foe and helped the promotion.
Vargas did well early as he pushed De La Hoya to the ropes and overwhelmed him with flurries of punches. De la Hoya's nose was bloodied by halfway through the bout, though Vargas was also losing energy. Vargas was cut over the eye in the 7th as De La Hoya fought his way back. He then stunned Vargas with a left hook near the end of round 10.
As he walked to his corner, it was clear Vargas had been wobbled, and the one-minute rest wasn't enough. In round 11, a snapping left hook sent Vargas onto his back. Vargas rose, but he was hurt and when action resumed De La Hoya swarmed him in the corner, rocked Vargas' head back and forced a stoppage.
"At first I thought he was too strong for me," De La Hoya said. "But when I was turning and he was missing, I knew he would get tired."
23-year-old Hiroyuki Ebihara became Japan's third world champion when he scored a shocking 1st round KO of Pone Kingpetch at the Metropolitan Gym in Tokyo, Japan in 1963.
Ebihara had only been a professional for about four years, and Kingpetch had earned a reputation as a tough out and Thailand's first world champion.
A ringside report said:
"The once-beaten Ebihara tore after Pone in the opening moments and soon floored him with a hard left to the face.
After Pone was given the mandatory eight count by Thai referee Sangwian Hiranyaleska, Ebihara stormed after his stricken rival. He battered him with a volley of lefts and rights and then dropped Pone for the full count with a solid left to the jaw.
Pone waved his arms weakly but was unable to get up.
The sudden ending brought a huge roar from the capacity crowd of 12,000 in the Metropolitan Gymnasium."
After the fight, Ebihara said, "I made the decision to attack in the first round. I was confident. I knew I could get him."
"He caught me cold," Kingpetch said. "I couldn't get set after the first knockdown."
One of my favorite fighters here, Paul Berlenbach, "The Astoria Assassin", 1920s all-time great light heavyweight with murderous punching power. He also possessed a numbing, paralyzing body punch that caused his opponents suddenly to crumple up as though they'd been shot. Paul Berlenbach, of French and German ancestry, was born in New York City on February 18, 1901. Berlenbach was both deaf and mute, having suffered from scarlet fever as a child; however, an electric shock, an accidental touch of a downed electrical wire at age 15 miraculously restored his hearing and speech. Berlenbach first showed promise as a wrestler, winning the 1922 and 1923 AAU championships, but switched to professional boxing in 1923. He has one heck of a resume, reigned for three years as light is champ, beating greats Jimmy Slattery, Mike McTigue, Battling Siki and Jack Delaney. He turned pro in 1923 and early in his career was matched and defeated by Hall of Famer Jack Delaney. Undeterred, "The Astoria Assassin" regrouped to score several knockouts, including a 10th round TKO over the great Battling Siki to set up a light heavyweight title shot against champion Mike McTigue. Renowned for his punching power, Berlenbach outboxed McTigue to win a 15-round decision and the title. He successfully defended the title three times (TKO 11 Jimmy Slattery, W15 Jack Delaney and W15 Young Stribling) before losing it to his nemesis Delaney in 1926. Berlenbach would meet and lose to Delaney once more before retiring in 1933. These are some really cool photos of Paul Berlenbach with his Great Dane "Shorty".
Jake LaMotta: “Fighting is all I ever knew, I started out at seven, fighting in the street, fighting to give a few bucks to my father to help pay the rent. You fight to get what you want.”
For Jake LaMotta, fighting was never just a sport, it was survival. From the streets to the ring, every punch thrown was a step out of poverty, a cry for control in a world that gave him none. Fighting was how he lived, and how he made sense of it all.
If you want to know how tough the old school boxers were, look no further than Jake LaMotta.
Jake LaMotta’s toughness is the stuff of boxing legend, both inside and outside the ring. Here are some facts that prove just how hard and unbreakable he really was.
He went the distance with Sugar Ray Robinson six times.. and is the only man to defeat him during Robinson’s prime. Their bouts were wars, and despite Robinson’s speed and skill, LaMotta never backed down. He once said, “I fought sugar Ray so many times, I’m surprised I’m not diabetic.”
In their final brutal bout, the infamous St. Valentine’s Day Massacre, LaMotta took a savage beating but refused to go down. He took 1,028 punches in that fight with Robinson. LaMotta absorbed over 1,000 punches.. yet stayed standing. That’s a staggering number in a time when gloves were thinner, and fighters went 15 rounds.
His chin was legendary, LaMotta was known for having one of the greatest chins in boxing history. He absorbed punishment most fighters would crumble under. After the Robinson massacre, he famously said: “You never got me down, Ray.” That line summed up his entire mentality.
"The Fearless" Owen Moran. He was an early 1900s bantamweight, featherweight, and lightweight, one of the best pound-for-pound fighters of his time. He was a skilled boxer/technician who could fight from the outside and at close quarters, with respectable power, an iron chin, and a hair trigger temper, of course you really have to have a bit of an edge to you in this sport. What kind of a fighter was Moran, well, he knocked out Battling Nelson, that should tell you all you need to know about Moran because Nelson was made of galvanized steel.
Fearless: When Owen Moran Thrilled America
By Mike Casey
The face stares out of the picture taken long ago, like that of an old gunfighter. The eyes are the most striking feature, baleful and quietly menacing as Owen Moran seems to challenge the camera to penetrate the shield of his tough countenance and guess his thoughts and innermost secrets. The dark hair that frames his face is defiant in itself, slightly dishevelled as it tumbles from his crown and flops casually across his forehead.
There is something haunting and oddly captivating about the less sophisticated photographs of the early twentieth century. People so often look like the living dead as their eyes meet yours and suck you into their fading and mysterious world. One instinctively looks for Boris Karloff in every family portrait. In a photographic studio of today, of course, the folks of that age would look no more mystical or threatening than you or I.
However, there are exceptions to every rule, and I would confidently wager that Owen Moran would look pretty much the same if he were able to step into a time machine and rejoin us now. For Moran was an exceptional human being and a true fighting man from head to foot. It helped to look like Owen did when you were plying your trade against men of the ilk of Abe Attell, Harlem Tommy Murphy, Ad Wolgast, Battling Nelson, Jim Driscoll and Packey McFarland.
People always commented on how hard Moran looked. They remarked constantly on his seriousness and intensity. But one word came up more than any other whenever the formidable Englishman was in the heat of battle: fearless.
Deceive
The written word, however well woven, can still deceive. Write about any tough guy from Moran’s stormy and anarchic era, and it is difficult to avoid the implication that he was a sullen, mean and thoroughly unapproachable individual. For many, the enduring appeal of Stanley Ketchel is that he was a psychotic powder keg that could go off at any moment.
But the truth is invariably more complex and far less dramatic. Owen Moran always staggered people on the rare occasions he cracked a smile, yet he was never anything less than a charming and sociable man to those who treated him fairly. But fighting was his trade and his life and could not, in his view, accommodate levity or benevolence. Owen, like so many of his contemporaries, simply had to be good at what he did and thoroughly committed. The simple alternative was a grinding life of anonymity in the harsh and unforgiving England of his time. Moran was a West Midlander from the city of Birmingham, or a ‘Brummie’ to his fellow countrymen. He could just as well have hailed from London, Liverpool, Manchester or Newcastle, where it was no less of an uphill task for a working class man to escape a grim and repetitive existence.
Owen wasn’t a big man and only spoke when he felt the need to. There was nothing gregarious about his nature. His statements of intent were delivered confidently and plainly. Like a miniature Clint Eastwood, he reminded one of that chilling old saying, “It’s always the quiet ones.”
Not that Moran was incapable of erupting if he felt he had been wronged. Promoter Jimmy Johnston saw the dark side of Owen when the two men had a difference of opinion during a meeting in Johnston’s office. The disagreement quickly escalated into a heated argument and climaxed with Moran throwing himself at Johnston with both fists swinging.
The size and reputation of an opponent never bothered Owen Moran inside or outside the ring. A natural bantamweight, he quickly tired of his weight class after winning the English version of the bantamweight championship by outpointing Al Delmont at the National Sporting Club in London. Moran wanted to hunt bigger game and began to attack the world’s best featherweights and lightweights. He loved to fight and he wanted to fight the best men available. In common with Jimmy Wilde and so many other fighters of that tough era, Owen cultivated his skills and his hard attitude in the rough and tumble arena of the boxing booths.
He captured the attention of Captain H.E. Cleveland, a famous boxing critic of the time, who saw Moran at work in Professor Harry Cullis’ booth. There was special aura about the laconic youngster, whose cyclonic style of fighting was tempered by wonderfully subtle cleverness.
For Owen Moran was indeed something of a technical paradox. He could attack and defend equally well and vary his tactics according to the task at hand. He loved nothing more than to scrap with a known scrapper, yet derived equal pleasure from outmanoeuvring a cunning fox.
Much like Roberto Duran in later years, Owen’s explosive, sudden rushes would often serve as a canny cloak for his precision punching and defensive skills.
Owen Moran had his first fight in America in 1907 and remained there for just over six years, during which time Uncle Sam couldn’t get enough of him. How good was the grimly determined little battler from Birmingham? After outclassing Frankie Neil in his Stateside debut at the Dreamland Pavilion in San Francisco, Moran was being likened to none other than the genius of the age: Joe Gans.
Champion
Before the Neil fight, Moran was aware that he had to sell himself to the American public, even though bragging never seemed to sit well with him. He kept it short and sweet as always. “I’ll show the people of this country that the country where I come from will be able to send over one champion.”
Frankie Neil was a dead game San Franciscan battler who never stopped attacking and probably had more courage than was good for him. Just a year before, he had fought with typical courage in an unsuccessful bid for Abe Attell’s featherweight crown, taking Abe all the way to a 20-rounds decision.
Against Moran, Frankie found himself hitting shadows and apparently getting hit by a hammer. Despite trying with everything he had, Neil simply couldn’t find a way past the technical brilliance of the English wizard. Owen put forth a memorable exhibition of skilful boxing and commanding power as he captivated and impressed the West Coast crowd. The scouting reports on Moran had filtered through in the run-up to the fight. Reports from the East and regular updates from the Moran camp had spoken glowingly of the tough and exceptionally talented man who was about to mark his territory. But the wonderful reality far surpassed the expectations.
Ringside reporter Eddie Smith wrote of Owen: “He proved to be the greatest find of many years, and his clean-cut clever style of milling will live in the memory of the lucky fans who witnessed last night’s contest for many days to come.”
Moran demonstrated that he could hit with great timing and precision with either hand. Beautifully balanced, he made so few mistakes that reporter Smith paid him the highest possible compliment by comparing his artistry to that of lightweight genius Joe Gans.
Frankie Neil won the admiration of the crowd at the Dreamland Pavilion for his enormous courage and willingness. Never once did he stop charging and ploughing forward, ever searching for the formula that would make the ghost before him turn into mortal flesh and blood. But Moran had Frankie’s number from the opening gong and never once looked like being toppled from his pedestal.
The intrigue of the battle was the strange marriage of Moran’s skill and Neil’s never-say-die pluckiness. Frankie took a sustained and painful beating, yet kept rushing Owen in frantic bids to land a significant blow and slow the Englishman’s march.
The bout got underway at seven minutes before ten and the opening round offered the first hint of Neil’s fate. The crowd was eerily silent as the two men initially felt each other out and showed some artful and clever feinting. Then Frankie made his move and discovered that Moran was infinitely more than just a nice boxer. Neil attempted a left to the body that fell short of the target and brought him to close quarters with Owen. The first significant action erupted suddenly as the two men teed off in a fast and vicious exchange. But one blow sounded above all the others. With an incredibly loud thud, Moran connected with a left hook to the jaw and followed up with a similar blow of equal force.
Neil took the punches remarkably well, but the warning signs continued to pop up on his bumpy road. What shocked the locals, who had grown accustomed to seeing their Frankie out-fight many bigger opponents at close range, was how superior Moran proved to be at the infighting.
Students of the game who were seeing Owen for the first time found him a fascinating case study. The English ace would only fire his punches when confident that he could hit the target, but his agile mind was no less evident as he studied Neil’s every move. What could Frankie do? He very quickly made the heart-dropping discovery that he could neither outbox nor out-slug Moran.
It appeared that the contest would be over as early as the second round, when Moran opened up in earnest and hammered Neil repeatedly with left hooks to the body and right crosses to the jaw. Paving the way for these blows was an educated and stunningly effective left jab that snapped to the target with great force from only a short distance.
Neil took his punishment and continued to rush Moran, but the only morbid intrigue of the one-sided battle was how long Frankie could last. It seemed he would go under in the sixth round as he wavered and shook from Moran’s precise jabbing and superb counters. Then Neil was suddenly down from a right cross to the jaw and apparently out to the world. But he somehow struggled up at nine and brought applause from the crowd as he bulled Owen to the ropes.
However, Neil’s increasing desperation was shredding his ability to think and plan correctly. He was hooking and swinging almost exclusively with his left hand and Moran was easily able to anticipate Frankie’s ill-timed rushes and predictable home run slashes.
The beating administered by Moran became more brutal as the bout wore on, to the distaste of many reporters who felt that Neil should be saved from further punishment. Referee Billy Roche felt that his hands were tied on that matter, revealing later that Frankie’s father had assumed responsibility for his son’s welfare and had urged Roche not to halt the proceedings.
That didn’t cut too much ice with Captain Duke of the local police, whose men were clambering into the ring in the sixteenth round just as Neil’s seconds finally threw in the sponge.
Moran received a tremendous ovation from the crowd and paid Frankie tribute when addressing reporters. “I asked referee Roche to stop the fight two rounds before the end came. I realised that I had Neil at my mercy and did not want to see such a game little fighter get an unnecessary beating. I believe I fought the greatest battle of my career. I want to take on Abe Attell next. If I beat him, I will demonstrate to the world that I am the greatest living boxer at my weight.”
Abe Attell
On January 1, 1908, at the Coffroth’s Arena in the great old fight town of Colma, Owen Moran got his chance when he fought the first of his five battles with fellow maestro, Abe Attell.
The two little titans were well matched, to the extent that referee and former heavyweight champ James J Jeffries was unable to decide a winner after 25 rounds of clever and hard- hitting duelling. So aligned were Moran and Attell in pure talent that one could barely slip a cigarette paper between them.
While Owen had played a wait-and-bait game for much of his contest with Frankie Neill, the game plan against the artful and cagey Attell required more urgency. Moran knew that he couldn’t afford to lay back. Much as the American public had quickly grown to adore him, he would learn that the more hardened officials of the game would do him no favours against their own.
Owen willingly took the role of the aggressor against Abe, pursuing the champion constantly and aggressively but always with great speed and deft skills. Attell, in turn, needed all of his tricks to bank the fire and keep his distance.
Abe’s punches lacked their normal snap and authority as Moran blunted their effect with his skilful and evasive form of aggression. But Attell was a wonderful fighter who could still leave his mark when under pressure. He found the range sufficiently to give Owen a black eye and a bleeding nose.
Moran clearly relished the examination paper that had been set. Abe was no less adept than the Englishman at feinting and slipping and was just as much of a tough cookie at taking his medicine. He avoided many of Moran’s hooks and swings to the jaw and didn’t appear greatly hurt by the body blows that were ripping into his stomach.
It was apparent that the two chess masters were cancelling each other out, but the crowd of some 8,000 found the battle of wits constantly engrossing. Moran switched between orthodox and southpaw to get close to Attell, following up with fast and hard blows on the inside. Abe jabbed and countered and hustled as each man searched for a weakness in the other’s game.
The twenty-fifth and final round saw Owen making a grandstand charge to grab the fight and the decision. Keeping his head down, he sailed into the champion with a volley of lefts and rights as Abe hit back in a thrilling finish. The fighters continued to tear at each other after the bell, and referee Jeffries needed much of his famous muscle to separate them. Jeff would tell reporters that he found it impossible to name a winner after such a close and intensely fought battle.
Attell would continue to frustrate Moran. Owen could equal and sometimes better Abe in combat, but could never conclusively or officially master the man they called the Little Hebrew. The two men would fight three further draws, while Attell would capture the newspaper verdict on two other occasions.
Battling Nelson
It is hard to believe that Owen Moran never added the featherweight or lightweight championship to his roll of honour. He truly was the nearly man who was as good as anybody on his day but never quite got the essential breaks. His progress was checked repeatedly by draw decisions and highly questionable defeats.
Only the unbiased boxing observers of the day knew the truth of some of these affairs, and there was certainly no doubt in the mind of the esteemed Nat Fleischer that Moran belonged with the all-time elite. In Nat’s view, Owen was the third greatest lightweight behind the dynamic duo of Joe Gans and Benny Leonard.
It was in that weight division, one of boxing’s most talent-laden, that Moran would make his indelible mark. On November 26, 1910, at Blot’s Arena in San Francisco, he did what no other man could ever do: knock out the great Durable Dane, Battling Nelson. Eddie Sterns had stopped the young Nelson and Ad Wolgast had butchered Bat to a standstill in their titanic engagement at Port Richmond. But nobody had put Nelson down for the count. It seemed that boxing would never see that particular curtain fall.
The execution was painfully drawn out as Moran’s clever attacks were heroically met by Nelson’s almost inhuman resistance. Bat, it seemed, regarded death as a more honourable exit than even the bravest capitulation. He was outsmarted and out-manoeuvred from the outset, yet never stopped trying to smash and batter his way through Owen’s defences.
There was nothing new in Nelson taking a shellacking to earn his daily bread. He had carved his formidable reputation from his simple but murderously effective hit-or-be-hit approach. But this time it was different and the wise birds at ringside sensed it.
By the ninth round, Nelson was tiring and flagging so badly that his backers feared the worst. Yet Moran’s coup-de-grace in the eleventh round was shocking for all that It is ever thus with the giants of the game. We see the axe cutting ever deeper into the tree, yet the inevitable crash still jolts the system. Nelson was moving in on Moran for the umpteenth time, enjoying limited success with occasional blows to the body. A left hook to the Englishman’s head offered Bat greater encouragement, but then he ran into the equivalent of a flying brick. As the fighters broke from a clinch, Moran ducked in anticipation of a left swing from Nelson. As Owen rose up, he fired a perfectly timed right straight from the shoulder that cracked against Bat’s chin with terrific force. Nelson was bowled over like a skittle as the crowd roared, yet remarkably scrambled to his feet at the count of nine.
There was no respite for the former lightweight champion as he was swept into a maelstrom that seemed to whirl and throw him around the ring for an eternity. He hit the deck five more times, twice being wrestled down as Owen tried to shake himself free to apply the kill. Finally, Moran found the killer punch. A right to the head concluded the rough-and-tumble battle, with Nelson just failing to beat referee Ben Selig’s count. Bat protested as great fighters do, but ringsiders were relieved that a legend of the sport would not have to suffer further.
Owen Moran had not won an elusive world championship. But with one of his greatest displays, he had written himself into the record books for all time.
Ad Wolgast at San Francisco
By Independence Day, 1911, Ad Wolgast was in the ferocious prime of his fighting life when he defended his lightweight championship against Owen Moran at San Francisco. Wolgast, the so-called Michigan Wildcat, was surely one of the most relentless and intimidating men who ever stepped into the ring.
In his savage marathon with Battling Nelson at Point Richmond, Ad had graphically demonstrated his maniacal and near suicidal desire to win. He was a furious fighting man, reckless and devil-may-care, no less of a danger to himself than he was to others. Punching, hustling and charging all the time, Wolgast would frequently offer his head as bait to his opponent and seemed to take his pain and punishment with as much relish as he gave it. Before his final fight in 1920, Ad would already be teetering between reality and fantasy from the brain damage of his many wars.
It could be said that Independence Day wasn’t the greatest day for an Englishman to be fighting Ad Wolgast, but the Wildcat never required special motivation. Like Moran, he just loved to fight.
The two men had engaged three years before in a no-contest in New York, when Wolgast was still climbing the ladder. By the time of their San Francisco meeting, Owen was twenty-seven years of age and already grizzled and jaded from a string of tough battles against talented and hungry men from a brutal boxing era that we will never truly understand.
Just as the great Nelson had taken his first ten count at the hands of Moran, so brave Owen would suffer the same fate against Wolgast. Ad set a breakneck pace and it was quickly evident that Owen would not be able to contain the Wildcat over the long haul.
Much of Moran’s genie-like magic was still in the bottle, and he was able to comfortably outbox Wolgast from long range, delighting the crowd with excellent jabbing and footwork and skilful ducking and slipping. But Owen’s finest work couldn’t prevent Wolgast from bulling his way inside and wreaking damage with his heavy body blows.
Ad walked through everything Moran had to offer and even took the play away from the challenger in the clinches. Few men had ever bettered Owen on the inside, but he simply couldn’t cope with the vicious right uppercuts that Ad was slamming home.
Deceptively clever in his own right, Wolgast was looping many of these hammer-like blows around Moran’s left arm.
The punishing attack of the champion eventually took its toll, although Moran’s confidence seemed to lift as the crowd applauded his skill. He got his second wind in the tenth and eleventh rounds, when he slowed Ad for the first time with an array of brilliantly timed punches.
Fighting Wolgast, however, must have drained many a man’s morale. Between rounds, Ad laughed and chatted with friends in the crowd, as if he were out for a pleasant stroll in the park in his own exceptional world.
No fighter is indestructible, but Wolgast was close to being so at that stage in his rip-roaring career. Moran was wearing down and even the feverish attention of his cornermen could inspire him no more. In the thirteenth round, Owen’s face turned sickly pale as Wolgast drove in a series of terrific right uppercuts to the stomach. A cut lip had left a smear of blood on Moran’s face as his tired body spluttered to a halt and began to waver and fall. A final left hook thudded against Owen’s jaw as he crashed into a sleep that lasted for some minutes.
As Wolgast’s supporters rushed into the ring to congratulate him, the champion tugged at the American flag he wore around his waist and exclaimed, “Some battle for the fourth of July!”
Some battle indeed.
Epilogue
Owen Moran was demonstrating how he knocked out Battling Nelson. The man gingerly pretending to be Nelson was Owen’s good friend, newspaper reporter Jimmy Butler. “It was like this,” Moran explained, dropping into a crouch. He feinted a punch to Butler’s stomach and then cracked him on the chin.
Owen was horrified as Butler staggered across the room, figuring that Jimmy would have the sense to step out of range. “Gosh, Jimmy, I’m sorry,” Moran said. “I didn’t mean to hit you.”
How Butler must have loved recounting that story. Owen Moran had actually apologized for hitting someone on the chin!
Owen Moran vs Battling Nelson in 1910, this is one of the most famous knockouts in boxing history because you just didn't knock Battling Nelson out, he was that durable and tough. This is the only time in Nelson's career that he was KO'd. Moran skillfully pot shotted Nelson from the outside and nullified him at close quarters en route to KO'ing him in 11, Nelson was on the canvas five separate times in the 11th round. It was the first and only time in his career that Nelson took the 10 count.
One of the scariest one punch KO's you'll ever see. I'll certainly never forget this one.
Sergio "Maravilla" Martínez got vicious revenge with an insane 2nd round KO of Paul "The Punisher" Williams when he made his first defense of The Ring and WBC middleweight titles at the Boardwalk Hall in Atlantic City, New Jersey in 2010.
After a string of bad luck that included a draw with Kermit Cintron that should have been a stoppage win and losing to William by close decision in their first fight, Martínez defeated Kelly Pavlik for the lineal middleweight title. It set up a rematch with Williams, who was generally known as a busy and tough fighter, and a nightmare to get in the ring with.
This time Martínez made it look easy.
After a good round 1 between them, Martínez lined up Williams, a fellow southpaw, for a hard left hand that left the taller man completely stiff. He fell face-first to the canvas and any count would have been useless.
"I started to attack, and when I did, we knew he was going to make a mistake, because he always makes mistakes," Martínez said. "He left me a lot of room to come in and hit him."
Undefeated contender and Olympic gold medalist Michael Spinks loads up his "Spinks Jinx," his dangerous right fist, as he takes the fight to tough veteran Álvaro "Yaqui" López in a nationally televised light heavyweight clash at the Atlantic City Convention Center in 1980.
The high profile crossroads fight saw an aggressive Lopez battle valiantly before Spinks scored two knockdowns to force a TKO in round seven, the victory helping to pave the way to a world title shot in 1981 against Eddie Mustafa Muhammad. Spinks would defeat Muhammad by 15 round unanimous decision.
Eddie Perkins, among the best boxers to ever call Chicago home, was World Boxing Council junior welterweight champion and two-time World Boxing Association junior welterweight champion during a 19-year professional career.
A native of Clarksdale, Miss., Perkins moved to Chicago as a child and settled with his family on the South Side. He graduated from Phillips High School and began boxing professionally in 1956 after compiling a 26-10 amateur record, according to the International Boxing Hall of Fame.
Perkins was trained and managed by boxing legend Johnny Coulon, who operated a gym in the 1100 block of East 63rd Street with his wife, Marie. Under Coulon's tutelage, he trained alongside reigning heavyweight champion Muhammad Ali and became a standout defensive specialist.
Perkins won his first WBA title in Milan, Italy, with a 15-round unanimous decision over Duilio Loi in 1962. He lost a rematch with Loi three months later, but would regain the WBA title and win the WBC belt in a unanimous decision over Roberto Cruz In the summer of 1963. He wouldn't lose another bout until 1965.
In retirement, Perkins spent a decade mentoring young fighters at Leo High School on the South Side. Boxing in more than 20 countries, Perkins often fought on consecutive nights for low pay. He felt he had to train harder than his opponents to gain decisive victories that left no doubt in the minds of judges who were sometimes prejudiced against African-Americans, said Leo graduate Thomas Hayes, Chicago Golden Gloves heavyweight champion in 2001.
"Don't leave it up to the judges," Hayes said was the lesson from Mr. Perkins. "And we didn't."
Mr. Perkins was "a lovely man," with a jovial nature that made it hard to envision him as a former world-class pugilist — until he stepped between the ropes, said Leo President Dan McGrath.
"Once he got into the ring, you could tell," McGrath said. "He was in his element."
Never known as a knockout artist, Perkins was a guileful puncher who remained elusive well into his 60s while training at Leo, where he would stand in the ring keeping his feet still and deflect punches from young men less than half his age.
"You could stand in front of him and throw punches and not be able to hit him," said Mike Joyce, Leo boxing coach.
Perkins retired from boxing in 1975 with a career record of 74 wins, 20 losses and two draws, and became a paper branch delivery manager for the Chicago Sun-Times. He remained in excellent shape by jogging and bowling, and imparted decades of his championship wisdom inside and outside of the ring.
"A lot of trainers can only tell you," said retired boxer James Kitchen. "He could put on the gloves and show you."
Former WBC light heavyweight champion Montell Griffin was a toddler when Perkins sparred at the Windy City Gym in Lawndale run by Griffin's father, Clarence. Windy City was previously the same gym owned by Perkins' former manager, Coulon.
Griffin, who has won 50 professional fights, said he tells people he's Chicago's greatest boxer when asked, and defers only to Mr. Perkins.
"Plain and simple, he's the best fighter to ever come out of Chicago," he said.
Armando Muniz (left) watching Eddie Perkins (center). Perkins finished his sparring session in preparation for their bout. Perkins beat Muniz twice both NABF welterweight title fights.
Eddie Perkins is one of the best technicians I have ever seen.
He would tie fighters in knots with feints, setting traps with his left hand, creating angles using pivots, landing hard straight right and left hook counters, and so much more.
A real complete technician. He kept his left hand quite low but it was always in a position to block and counter-punch. He did a lot of leading in with a low left then leaning back away from fighters shots and flicking a counter jab into fighters faces.
He also picked superb right hand and left hook counters. Another thing he excelled at was parrying with his right hand. And the feinting, well it was amazing and very effective. Another thing I loved was the way he got down low and pivoted to change angle as fighters opened up, it was just superb.
Eddie Perkins is the GZA of the boxing world, you watch him on face value and you see a very good fighter, you analyse him a bit more and you appreciate him even more. His style is just so layered.
Eddie Perkins chewing the fat with former world champion Johnny "Honey Boy" Bratton (left), a former undisputed world Jr welterweight champion, Eddie prepares for haircut in the barber shop of Bob Weatherly. Spot was a hangout for Chicago fighters. A stranger to the public, Eddie got VIP treatment from friends.
Eddie Perkins is one of my favorite fighters to watch, the way he could punch through someone's defense was incredible. There used to be a highlight video of him on YouTube but sadly someone took it down.
"Terrible" Terry Norris, 4-time Super-Welterweight Champion and Hall of Famer, defended his WBC title a total of 16 times and IBF title 4 times. One of the most gifted athletes ever seen, with otherworldly speed, power, footwork, stamina, a brilliant left hook and crazy combinations, Terry defeated the likes of Sugar Ray Leonard, Donald Curry, John Mugabi, Meldrick Taylor, Maurice Blocker, Simon Brown and Carl Daniels.
On March 8th, 2024, heavyweight Francis "The Predator" Ngannou was brutally knocked out in two rounds at the hands of Great Britain's Anthony Joshua. Ngannou, who was a former feared UFC Heavyweight champion, was attempting to make a cross over from MMA to boxing. Ngannou, known for his brutal punching power in UFC, had previously made his boxing debut against then heavyweight champion Tyson Fury, giving Fury a good tussle and even flooring Fury. But in his next fight, Ngannou quickly learned that boxing is a different world. Joshua floored a shell-shocked Ngannou with a vicious right hand in the opening round before knocking down the former UFC heavyweight champion twice in the next, the second of which would leave Ngannou flat out for the count.
Comments
Canzoneri had many battles with all-time great legends, his first fight with Kid Chocolate in 1931 was a classic, one of the greatest fights of all-time, great mixture of technical boxing and a slugfest. Kid Chocolate is a legend in this sport as well, he was from Cuba, a really slick boxer who was also ahead of his time stylistically, Chocolate was the reigning Super Featherweight and Jr. Lightweight champion, decided to try and move up to fight Lightweight champ Tony Canzoneri. The fight ended in a SD win for Canzoneri, it was about as close a fight as one can get, with both fighters having their moments. Their second fight in 1933 didn't disappoint either, but Canzoneri wouldn't let this fight end up in the hands the judges, he ended matters quickly.
James P. Dawson of the New York Times wrote:
"Tony Canzoneri knocked out Kid Chocolate last night in the most spectacular lightweight battle in a local ring since the night Benny Leonard stopped Richie Mitchell... Before 13,000 wildly excited boxing followers in Madison Square Garden, Chocolate suffered his first knockout loss... A right hand punch finished him after 2 minutes 30 seconds of the second round. But more blood and thunder was crowded into that five and one half minutes than has been seen here in years."
Tony Canzoneri and Jimmy McLarnin "The Belfast Spider", one of the great rivalries of the 1930s. Of course Mclarnin is an all-time great as well, he was Irish and was a murderous puncher, he had many nicknames, he was called"The Irish Lullaby" because he could put people to sleep, he was also called "The Murderous Mick" because of his KO power. By the time they met, Canzoneri was on the decline, but he still managed to beat Mclarnin once, they fought twice, with both fighters winning a bout, so the series ended a 1-1 tie.
Oct. 5, 1936: Canzoneri vs McLarnin
October 5, 2024 Robert Portis
Tony Canzoneri vs Jimmy McLarnin. Two of the very best from one of boxing’s greatest decades, the 1930’s, the Depression years, that glorious time of Kid Chocolate, Barney Ross, Henry Armstrong and Joe Louis.
Only a year separated the two greats in age and by 1936 they were both grizzled, though still-formidable, veterans. But between May of that year, when the two gave fight fans a thrilling ten round battle, and the following October when they locked up a second time, something happened to Canzoneri. A gifted pugilist in his prime, with sharp reflexes, crafty moves and dangerous power in both fists, he suddenly didn’t have it anymore. His prime was gone for good.
Canzoneri vs McLarnin
Just the year before “Canzi” was still a force to be reckoned with, seemingly not that far removed from the form he had when he was regarded as clearly the finest boxer in the game with big wins over Jackie “Kid” Berg, Kid Chocolate and Billy Petrolle. In fact, less than two years prior he had dropped a pair of close, hard-fought decision battles to Barney Ross and then in May of ’35 he regained the lightweight crown from the always tough Lou Ambers.
Meanwhile McLarnin was coming off his own great series with Ross, a trilogy of superb fifteen round battles which saw “The Baby Faced Assassin” lose the first and third clashes, leaving McLarnin empty-handed in terms of title belts. Not in terms of money, though. All three matches had been huge events and McLarnin looked to only add more funds to his bulging bank account as he set to rumble with Canzoneri at Madison Square Garden twice in the same year, both matches scheduled for ten rounds.
Canzoneri battles Ambers.
The first Canzoneri vs McLarnin match was a terrific battle that only became more dramatic with each action-packed round. It was made further memorable due to a bizarre incident just before the opening bell. After receiving the referee’s instructions, Canzoneri turned and walked into the overhead microphone hard enough to leave him slightly dazed. Naturally McLarnin took advantage, battering Tony about the ring in the opening round, but after that, “The Dublin Dynamiter” was clearly out-classed as Canzoneri recovered and went on to out-box his rival with authority. Bouncing energetically about the ring and consistently beating McLarnin to the punch, the Italian-American showed the New York fans the kind of skills which had made him one of boxing’s truly great lightweight champions. He even tried for a knockout in the last two stanzas and the judges all gave Tony the win by scores of eight rounds to two.
The two veterans pose for the
cameras.
But as it turned out, that was Canzoneri’s last great performance. Four months later he defended his lightweight title against Ambers and he suddenly appeared aged beyond his years, dropping a one-sided points loss that saw “The Herkimer Hurricane” win almost every round. Afterwards, no less an expert than Benny Leonard judged Canzoneri finished as an elite fighting force. “Youth licked Tony tonight,” he told the press. “After all, he’s been tossing leather for eleven years.”
But Canzoneri was far from ready to pack it in. A month later, it was time for a rematch with McLarnin, but the second meeting of these two ring legends would be of a very different order from their first. The match in May had been a thrilling shoot-out with both men looking to land big shots, but McLarnin’s aggressiveness had given Canzoneri chances to counter and land solid blows.
Canzoneri vs McLarnin
This time McLarnin boxed conservatively behind his left jab and it proved a winning strategy. Canzoneri couldn’t get past the left hand of “The Belfast Spider” and in the later rounds he bore the wounds of war: a swollen and bleeding right eye and a split lip. He was such a gory sight that by the seventh round fans were calling for the match to be stopped, but the proud former champion survived to hear the final bell.
The decision went to McLarnin, who would compete just once more, winning a ten round non-title match against Ambers, before he walked away from boxing for good. But his adversary, despite the fact he just no longer had the spark that made him an all-time great, journeyed on, losing another bid for the world title against Ambers and then answering the bell twenty-two more times before Al “Bummy” Davis knocked him out with his powerful left hook and finally ended the amazing career of the one-and-only Tony Canzoneri. — Robert Portis
Tony Canzoneri and Lou Ambers, "The Herkimer Hurricane." If you're not familiar with Ambers, he's an all-time great, and he idolized Canzoneri, he was actually a sparring partner with Canzoneri at one point in time, so the two got to know eachother very well, personally and in the ring. It was quite the rivalry, a fighter going toe-to-toe with his idol.
Sept. 3, 1936: Ambers vs Canzoneri
September 3, 2025 Robert Portis
Tony Canzoneri was already a lock for the Hall of Fame, not to mention an all-time great lightweight when he entered Madison Square Garden in May of 1935 to face a fresh-faced Lou Ambers for the vacant championship of the world. The great Barney Ross had walked away from the 135 pound title to compete at welterweight and Ambers vs Canzoneri was the obvious pairing to decide the next champion. But “The Herkimer Hurricane” was five years younger and his elder had a lot of hard miles on those frail-looking legs; the wiseguys pegged Canzoneri as the underdog.
Canzoneri in his prime.
So imagine their surprise when it was Canzoneri, not Ambers, who came flying out of his corner at the opening bell, throwing lethal right hands. He scored two knockdowns in round three and after holding off a late-round charge from Ambers he heard the cheers as he was awarded a lop-sided points win and his fifth world title. Ambers had been Tony’s sparring partner not that long before, but he hadn’t yet learned enough to better his old mentor. The first Ambers vs Canzoneri tilt surprised many and appeared to prove that there was still plenty of life left in the veteran scrapper.
Little did anyone know at the time, but it would prove to be one of Canzoneri’s last great performances. While only twenty-six, he had competed in over 130 pro bouts, including some grueling battles with Ross, Benny Bass, Kid Chocolate, Frankie Klick, Billy Petrolle and many others. And in fact, between that first clash with Ambers and the second, Canzoneri answered the bell eleven times, all victories, but there were some punishing scraps along the way, including tough distance battles with Klick and Jimmy McLarnin. Meanwhile Ambers, with only fifty matches to his credit, was just getting started.
Lou Ambers
But the oddsmakers saw only Canzoneri’s hot streak of fourteen straight wins and his one-sided victory over Ambers the previous May, and decided it was now the man from Herkimer, New York who was the underdog. How wrong they were, as that night it was clear to a near-capacity crowd in Madison Square Garden that Canzoneri just didn’t have it anymore.
This time it was Ambers who seized the initiative early, shaking Tony with a hard one-two in the third round and by the fifth the champion was bleeding from the nose. In contrast to their first meeting, Canzoneri had great difficulty finding the target with his dangerous right, though he staged a rally in rounds nine and ten to stay in it. But the late going saw Ambers back in control and when the final decision in his favour was announced none disputed it. Ambers was clearly the sharper, fresher and more effective fighter.
Two all-time greats mix it up.
“I was slow tonight,” lamented the former champ in his dressing room, blaming his showing on a four month layoff. “Guess I needed a fight under my belt. I’d like to take him right back tomorrow.”
But most observers agreed that activity was not the reason for Canzoneri’s less-than-impressive performance.
“Youth licked Tony tonight,” declared former lightweight king Benny Leonard to the press. “After all, he’s been tossing leather for eleven years.”
Canzoneri and Ambers exchange jabs in the late going.
The new champion echoed that sentiment: “Tony beat me a year ago because he was too fast and experienced. Tonight he punched as hard as ever but he was terribly slow and I had no trouble hitting him. Of course I’ll give him another fight if he wants it, because I know he’ll never be the old Canzoneri again.”
And indeed “Canzi” took a bloody battering from McLarnin in his next outing and when he got another crack at Ambers in May of the following year, the result was an even more one-sided fifteen round win for “The Herkimer Hurricane.” Canzoneri was an all-time great, a legend, a fighter whose name and reputation would never be forgotten. But no one could deny: the glory days were fading fast.
A happy Ambers after his big win.
As for Ambers, he was, without a doubt, the best 135-pounder on the planet, the new king of the lightweight castle as Canzoneri, Ross and Petrolle all contemplated the sands of time and retirement. And indeed it would take a fighter as great as the immortal Henry Armstrong to get the better of him in 1938 and, after a grueling fifteen round war, relieve him of the title he had taken from “Canzi.” — Robert Portis
Time for a few photos of Canzoneri before we move on, this is a great shot of the knockout of Kid Chocolate.
Tony Canzoneri knocks out Al Singer in the first round to win the World Lightweight Championship on November 14, 1930. The knockout occurred just 56 seconds into the fight at Madison Square Garden.
Canzoneri knocks out Kid Berg.
Tony Canzoneri in the cover of Ring magazine in July 1927. These old issues of Ring magazine can be pretty hard to come by and often go for steep prices.
These are two of my favorite photos of Tony Canzoneri.
The legendary Tony Canzoneri.
Just heard the terrible news that Ricky "The Hitman" Hatton passed away. Sad news, he is one of my favorites, one of the most vicious and greatest body punchers in the history of the sport, and a real gladiator.
I like to call Ricky Hatton "The Mad Hatter", that's the nickname I made up for him, it's just a cool nickname. Anyway, this is Ricky Hatton vs Jose Luis Castillo in 2007, and Hatton catches Castillo with a body shot to the liver and Castillo goes to one knee and the pain from the body shot will not allow his body to physically rise and beat the count, it's a thing of beauty watching a great body puncher.
Ricky Hatton's greatest moment was when he scored a monumental upset and beat the great Kostya "The Thunder From Down Under" Tszyu, on June 4th, 2005. Tszyu was a legend, and he earned his nickname because of his fierce and powerful fighting style, he was a punching machine. Nobody gave Hatton a chance in hell to beat Tszyu, but he pulled it off and defeated Tszyu by TKO in the 11th round at the M.E.N. Arena in Manchester, England, to win the IBF Light Welterweight title. Hatton's relentless pressure and body punches wore down the veteran Tszyu, forcing him to retire on his stool at the end of the 11th round. Here is what Hatton had to say about that night.
Mike Tyson bit Evander Holyfield's ear in their 1997 rematch as retaliation for what Tyson perceived as Holyfield's repeated, intentional headbutts, which the referee failed to stop. Tyson also stated he was enraged and wanted to inflict pain, possibly realizing he was losing the fight. The biting resulted in a disqualification loss for Tyson and Holyfield remained the heavyweight champion.
Mike Tyson was a freaking wild man the night he bit Holyfield's ear off, a real savage, he snapped and went crazy. This is a photo of the Las Vegas police standing in front of him to keep him back after he bit Holyfield.
One of the most iconic boxing photos ever taken, Luis Angel Firpo, "The Wild Bull of the Pampas", an Argentina heavyweight with murderous punching power, knocks heavyweight champion Jack Dempsey through the ropes. In the most exciting fight of Jack Dempsey's iconic career, he defended his world heavyweight title in one of the fiercest battles ever fought between heavyweights and knocked out the powerful Luis Firpo in front of 80,000 at the Polo Grounds in 1923.
It was the first time that a Latin American fighter would challenge for the world heavyweight championship.
No champion ever had a closer call.
In the first round, after Firpo had gone down seven times, one of his long smashing rights caught Dempsey fairly and knocked him clear through the ropes. The champion's head disappeared over the edge of the ring, his white-clad legs shot up in the air, and it seemed a new world champion was about to enter into his glory. On the count of nine, Dempsey managed to stagger back into the ring with the help of newspapers reporters sitting ringside, but the end of the round found him obviously badly shaken, and staggering as he had never been staggered before.
In the second round Firpo's right was too slow to reach the champion, who was striking in with all his power. He caught Firpo with a right and put him down. Two seconds later the challenger was up but a moment more and he was down again for a count of five. Once more Firpo staggered to his feet, Dempsey was on him instantly, caught him with a left to the jaw and then toppled him with a right as he sank. Bleeding slightly at the mouth, Firpo turned slowly over, striving vainly to rise as the referee's pumping arm reached the counts of eight and nine, and stiffened helplessly as the tenth count ended his championship hopes for the time.
Here is what Dempsey had to say about Firpo knocking him through the ropes:
"He is game and the hardest puncher I ever faced. It was the first time I was knocked down since I became champion and I'll never forget it... I didn't even know he had knocked me out of the ring until I came to on my stool between rounds. I thought I had been knocked out." - Jack Dempsey
One of the greatest victories by a Cuban fighter, "El Chacal" or "The Jackal" Guillermo Rigondeaux unified the junior featherweight title with a 12 round unanimous decision over Nonito Donaire at Radio City Music Hall in New York in 2013.
Though Rigondeaux was a slight underdog, he was a legendary amateur in Cuba, having won two Olympic gold medals, multiple Cuban amateur titles and World Amateur Championship titles. "El Chacal" utilized savvy and deft timing to hand the 31-1 Donaire his first loss in 12 years. Donaire came into the fight as 2012's "Fighter of the Year" for the highly respected run he was on.
As most counterpuncher vs counterpuncher matchups tend to, this fight opened up somewhat slowly as both fighters tried to feint the other out of position and refused to give up much. That was Rigondeaux's game, however, and Donaire had difficulty connecting.
The crowd of about 6,000 at the classic venue booed the lack of action, which again indicated that the fight was going how Rigondeaux preferred. Indeed Rigondeaux kept Donaire from being able to get anything going while landing sharper punches.
In round 10, Donaire finally broke through while southpaw inside and landed a left hand that put Rigondeaux down. Unfortunately it only seemed to wake Rigondeaux up, and the Cuban smacked Donaire around even worse in the championship rounds before winning a decision and The Ring's junior bantamweight championship.
“You saw it, moving, boxing," Rigondeaux said. "You can’t win by landing one shot. Donaire is an excellent fighter, but you can’t win a fight with one shot.”
“I apologize," said Donaire after the loss. "I wanted to deliver. During the last two rounds I got stupid. I felt his power in the last round. I wanted to put him away. There was a lot of pressure on me, I’ve got ligament damage in my shoulder and I need surgery. It was my mistake for not changing up throughout the fight. I have no excuse, he beat me tonight.”
"The Golden Boy" Oscar De La Hoya won a tense grudge match against "Ferocious" Fernando Vargas by 11th round TKO to win The Ring and unified junior middleweight titles at the Mandalay Bay Resort & Casino in Las Vegas, Nevada in 2002.
Vargas was angry at de la Hoya for a perceived insult from years earlier, when both trained in Big Bear, California. Vargas said he'd slipped on ice, and rather than help, De La Hoya continued with his road work and jogged away laughing at him. De la Hoya claimed the incident never happened, but it apparently fueled Vargas' animosity toward his foe and helped the promotion.
Vargas did well early as he pushed De La Hoya to the ropes and overwhelmed him with flurries of punches. De la Hoya's nose was bloodied by halfway through the bout, though Vargas was also losing energy. Vargas was cut over the eye in the 7th as De La Hoya fought his way back. He then stunned Vargas with a left hook near the end of round 10.
As he walked to his corner, it was clear Vargas had been wobbled, and the one-minute rest wasn't enough. In round 11, a snapping left hook sent Vargas onto his back. Vargas rose, but he was hurt and when action resumed De La Hoya swarmed him in the corner, rocked Vargas' head back and forced a stoppage.
"At first I thought he was too strong for me," De La Hoya said. "But when I was turning and he was missing, I knew he would get tired."
23-year-old Hiroyuki Ebihara became Japan's third world champion when he scored a shocking 1st round KO of Pone Kingpetch at the Metropolitan Gym in Tokyo, Japan in 1963.
Ebihara had only been a professional for about four years, and Kingpetch had earned a reputation as a tough out and Thailand's first world champion.
A ringside report said:
"The once-beaten Ebihara tore after Pone in the opening moments and soon floored him with a hard left to the face.
After Pone was given the mandatory eight count by Thai referee Sangwian Hiranyaleska, Ebihara stormed after his stricken rival. He battered him with a volley of lefts and rights and then dropped Pone for the full count with a solid left to the jaw.
Pone waved his arms weakly but was unable to get up.
The sudden ending brought a huge roar from the capacity crowd of 12,000 in the Metropolitan Gymnasium."
After the fight, Ebihara said, "I made the decision to attack in the first round. I was confident. I knew I could get him."
"He caught me cold," Kingpetch said. "I couldn't get set after the first knockdown."
One of my favorite fighters here, Paul Berlenbach, "The Astoria Assassin", 1920s all-time great light heavyweight with murderous punching power. He also possessed a numbing, paralyzing body punch that caused his opponents suddenly to crumple up as though they'd been shot. Paul Berlenbach, of French and German ancestry, was born in New York City on February 18, 1901. Berlenbach was both deaf and mute, having suffered from scarlet fever as a child; however, an electric shock, an accidental touch of a downed electrical wire at age 15 miraculously restored his hearing and speech. Berlenbach first showed promise as a wrestler, winning the 1922 and 1923 AAU championships, but switched to professional boxing in 1923. He has one heck of a resume, reigned for three years as light is champ, beating greats Jimmy Slattery, Mike McTigue, Battling Siki and Jack Delaney. He turned pro in 1923 and early in his career was matched and defeated by Hall of Famer Jack Delaney. Undeterred, "The Astoria Assassin" regrouped to score several knockouts, including a 10th round TKO over the great Battling Siki to set up a light heavyweight title shot against champion Mike McTigue. Renowned for his punching power, Berlenbach outboxed McTigue to win a 15-round decision and the title. He successfully defended the title three times (TKO 11 Jimmy Slattery, W15 Jack Delaney and W15 Young Stribling) before losing it to his nemesis Delaney in 1926. Berlenbach would meet and lose to Delaney once more before retiring in 1933. These are some really cool photos of Paul Berlenbach with his Great Dane "Shorty".
Paul Berlenbach also played the Saxophone, he said it helped him develop his wind.
A few more good shots of the Astoria Assassin.
World Light Heavyweight Champion, Paul Berlenbach (left) and Dan Hickey with manager Ben Stern looking on.
Paul Berlenbach floors Young Stribling in 1926, Berlenbach would retain his light heavyweight title by 15 round decision.
Berlenbach in Boxing Illustrated magazine in 1980.
Paul Berlenbach floors Jack Delaney in one of their bouts.
Berlenbach training.
A cartoon about Paul Berlenbach's punching power featured in a 1920s newspaper.
Jake LaMotta: “Fighting is all I ever knew, I started out at seven, fighting in the street, fighting to give a few bucks to my father to help pay the rent. You fight to get what you want.”
For Jake LaMotta, fighting was never just a sport, it was survival. From the streets to the ring, every punch thrown was a step out of poverty, a cry for control in a world that gave him none. Fighting was how he lived, and how he made sense of it all.
If you want to know how tough the old school boxers were, look no further than Jake LaMotta.
Jake LaMotta’s toughness is the stuff of boxing legend, both inside and outside the ring. Here are some facts that prove just how hard and unbreakable he really was.
He went the distance with Sugar Ray Robinson six times.. and is the only man to defeat him during Robinson’s prime. Their bouts were wars, and despite Robinson’s speed and skill, LaMotta never backed down. He once said, “I fought sugar Ray so many times, I’m surprised I’m not diabetic.”
In their final brutal bout, the infamous St. Valentine’s Day Massacre, LaMotta took a savage beating but refused to go down. He took 1,028 punches in that fight with Robinson. LaMotta absorbed over 1,000 punches.. yet stayed standing. That’s a staggering number in a time when gloves were thinner, and fighters went 15 rounds.
His chin was legendary, LaMotta was known for having one of the greatest chins in boxing history. He absorbed punishment most fighters would crumble under. After the Robinson massacre, he famously said: “You never got me down, Ray.” That line summed up his entire mentality.
"The Fearless" Owen Moran. He was an early 1900s bantamweight, featherweight, and lightweight, one of the best pound-for-pound fighters of his time. He was a skilled boxer/technician who could fight from the outside and at close quarters, with respectable power, an iron chin, and a hair trigger temper, of course you really have to have a bit of an edge to you in this sport. What kind of a fighter was Moran, well, he knocked out Battling Nelson, that should tell you all you need to know about Moran because Nelson was made of galvanized steel.
Fearless: When Owen Moran Thrilled America
By Mike Casey
The face stares out of the picture taken long ago, like that of an old gunfighter. The eyes are the most striking feature, baleful and quietly menacing as Owen Moran seems to challenge the camera to penetrate the shield of his tough countenance and guess his thoughts and innermost secrets. The dark hair that frames his face is defiant in itself, slightly dishevelled as it tumbles from his crown and flops casually across his forehead.
There is something haunting and oddly captivating about the less sophisticated photographs of the early twentieth century. People so often look like the living dead as their eyes meet yours and suck you into their fading and mysterious world. One instinctively looks for Boris Karloff in every family portrait. In a photographic studio of today, of course, the folks of that age would look no more mystical or threatening than you or I.
However, there are exceptions to every rule, and I would confidently wager that Owen Moran would look pretty much the same if he were able to step into a time machine and rejoin us now. For Moran was an exceptional human being and a true fighting man from head to foot. It helped to look like Owen did when you were plying your trade against men of the ilk of Abe Attell, Harlem Tommy Murphy, Ad Wolgast, Battling Nelson, Jim Driscoll and Packey McFarland.
People always commented on how hard Moran looked. They remarked constantly on his seriousness and intensity. But one word came up more than any other whenever the formidable Englishman was in the heat of battle: fearless.
Deceive
The written word, however well woven, can still deceive. Write about any tough guy from Moran’s stormy and anarchic era, and it is difficult to avoid the implication that he was a sullen, mean and thoroughly unapproachable individual. For many, the enduring appeal of Stanley Ketchel is that he was a psychotic powder keg that could go off at any moment.
But the truth is invariably more complex and far less dramatic. Owen Moran always staggered people on the rare occasions he cracked a smile, yet he was never anything less than a charming and sociable man to those who treated him fairly. But fighting was his trade and his life and could not, in his view, accommodate levity or benevolence. Owen, like so many of his contemporaries, simply had to be good at what he did and thoroughly committed. The simple alternative was a grinding life of anonymity in the harsh and unforgiving England of his time. Moran was a West Midlander from the city of Birmingham, or a ‘Brummie’ to his fellow countrymen. He could just as well have hailed from London, Liverpool, Manchester or Newcastle, where it was no less of an uphill task for a working class man to escape a grim and repetitive existence.
Owen wasn’t a big man and only spoke when he felt the need to. There was nothing gregarious about his nature. His statements of intent were delivered confidently and plainly. Like a miniature Clint Eastwood, he reminded one of that chilling old saying, “It’s always the quiet ones.”
Not that Moran was incapable of erupting if he felt he had been wronged. Promoter Jimmy Johnston saw the dark side of Owen when the two men had a difference of opinion during a meeting in Johnston’s office. The disagreement quickly escalated into a heated argument and climaxed with Moran throwing himself at Johnston with both fists swinging.
The size and reputation of an opponent never bothered Owen Moran inside or outside the ring. A natural bantamweight, he quickly tired of his weight class after winning the English version of the bantamweight championship by outpointing Al Delmont at the National Sporting Club in London. Moran wanted to hunt bigger game and began to attack the world’s best featherweights and lightweights. He loved to fight and he wanted to fight the best men available. In common with Jimmy Wilde and so many other fighters of that tough era, Owen cultivated his skills and his hard attitude in the rough and tumble arena of the boxing booths.
He captured the attention of Captain H.E. Cleveland, a famous boxing critic of the time, who saw Moran at work in Professor Harry Cullis’ booth. There was special aura about the laconic youngster, whose cyclonic style of fighting was tempered by wonderfully subtle cleverness.
For Owen Moran was indeed something of a technical paradox. He could attack and defend equally well and vary his tactics according to the task at hand. He loved nothing more than to scrap with a known scrapper, yet derived equal pleasure from outmanoeuvring a cunning fox.
Much like Roberto Duran in later years, Owen’s explosive, sudden rushes would often serve as a canny cloak for his precision punching and defensive skills.
Owen Moran had his first fight in America in 1907 and remained there for just over six years, during which time Uncle Sam couldn’t get enough of him. How good was the grimly determined little battler from Birmingham? After outclassing Frankie Neil in his Stateside debut at the Dreamland Pavilion in San Francisco, Moran was being likened to none other than the genius of the age: Joe Gans.
Champion
Before the Neil fight, Moran was aware that he had to sell himself to the American public, even though bragging never seemed to sit well with him. He kept it short and sweet as always. “I’ll show the people of this country that the country where I come from will be able to send over one champion.”
Frankie Neil was a dead game San Franciscan battler who never stopped attacking and probably had more courage than was good for him. Just a year before, he had fought with typical courage in an unsuccessful bid for Abe Attell’s featherweight crown, taking Abe all the way to a 20-rounds decision.
Against Moran, Frankie found himself hitting shadows and apparently getting hit by a hammer. Despite trying with everything he had, Neil simply couldn’t find a way past the technical brilliance of the English wizard. Owen put forth a memorable exhibition of skilful boxing and commanding power as he captivated and impressed the West Coast crowd. The scouting reports on Moran had filtered through in the run-up to the fight. Reports from the East and regular updates from the Moran camp had spoken glowingly of the tough and exceptionally talented man who was about to mark his territory. But the wonderful reality far surpassed the expectations.
Ringside reporter Eddie Smith wrote of Owen: “He proved to be the greatest find of many years, and his clean-cut clever style of milling will live in the memory of the lucky fans who witnessed last night’s contest for many days to come.”
Moran demonstrated that he could hit with great timing and precision with either hand. Beautifully balanced, he made so few mistakes that reporter Smith paid him the highest possible compliment by comparing his artistry to that of lightweight genius Joe Gans.
Frankie Neil won the admiration of the crowd at the Dreamland Pavilion for his enormous courage and willingness. Never once did he stop charging and ploughing forward, ever searching for the formula that would make the ghost before him turn into mortal flesh and blood. But Moran had Frankie’s number from the opening gong and never once looked like being toppled from his pedestal.
The intrigue of the battle was the strange marriage of Moran’s skill and Neil’s never-say-die pluckiness. Frankie took a sustained and painful beating, yet kept rushing Owen in frantic bids to land a significant blow and slow the Englishman’s march.
The bout got underway at seven minutes before ten and the opening round offered the first hint of Neil’s fate. The crowd was eerily silent as the two men initially felt each other out and showed some artful and clever feinting. Then Frankie made his move and discovered that Moran was infinitely more than just a nice boxer. Neil attempted a left to the body that fell short of the target and brought him to close quarters with Owen. The first significant action erupted suddenly as the two men teed off in a fast and vicious exchange. But one blow sounded above all the others. With an incredibly loud thud, Moran connected with a left hook to the jaw and followed up with a similar blow of equal force.
Neil took the punches remarkably well, but the warning signs continued to pop up on his bumpy road. What shocked the locals, who had grown accustomed to seeing their Frankie out-fight many bigger opponents at close range, was how superior Moran proved to be at the infighting.
Students of the game who were seeing Owen for the first time found him a fascinating case study. The English ace would only fire his punches when confident that he could hit the target, but his agile mind was no less evident as he studied Neil’s every move. What could Frankie do? He very quickly made the heart-dropping discovery that he could neither outbox nor out-slug Moran.
It appeared that the contest would be over as early as the second round, when Moran opened up in earnest and hammered Neil repeatedly with left hooks to the body and right crosses to the jaw. Paving the way for these blows was an educated and stunningly effective left jab that snapped to the target with great force from only a short distance.
Neil took his punishment and continued to rush Moran, but the only morbid intrigue of the one-sided battle was how long Frankie could last. It seemed he would go under in the sixth round as he wavered and shook from Moran’s precise jabbing and superb counters. Then Neil was suddenly down from a right cross to the jaw and apparently out to the world. But he somehow struggled up at nine and brought applause from the crowd as he bulled Owen to the ropes.
However, Neil’s increasing desperation was shredding his ability to think and plan correctly. He was hooking and swinging almost exclusively with his left hand and Moran was easily able to anticipate Frankie’s ill-timed rushes and predictable home run slashes.
The beating administered by Moran became more brutal as the bout wore on, to the distaste of many reporters who felt that Neil should be saved from further punishment. Referee Billy Roche felt that his hands were tied on that matter, revealing later that Frankie’s father had assumed responsibility for his son’s welfare and had urged Roche not to halt the proceedings.
That didn’t cut too much ice with Captain Duke of the local police, whose men were clambering into the ring in the sixteenth round just as Neil’s seconds finally threw in the sponge.
Moran received a tremendous ovation from the crowd and paid Frankie tribute when addressing reporters. “I asked referee Roche to stop the fight two rounds before the end came. I realised that I had Neil at my mercy and did not want to see such a game little fighter get an unnecessary beating. I believe I fought the greatest battle of my career. I want to take on Abe Attell next. If I beat him, I will demonstrate to the world that I am the greatest living boxer at my weight.”
Abe Attell
On January 1, 1908, at the Coffroth’s Arena in the great old fight town of Colma, Owen Moran got his chance when he fought the first of his five battles with fellow maestro, Abe Attell.
The two little titans were well matched, to the extent that referee and former heavyweight champ James J Jeffries was unable to decide a winner after 25 rounds of clever and hard- hitting duelling. So aligned were Moran and Attell in pure talent that one could barely slip a cigarette paper between them.
While Owen had played a wait-and-bait game for much of his contest with Frankie Neill, the game plan against the artful and cagey Attell required more urgency. Moran knew that he couldn’t afford to lay back. Much as the American public had quickly grown to adore him, he would learn that the more hardened officials of the game would do him no favours against their own.
Owen willingly took the role of the aggressor against Abe, pursuing the champion constantly and aggressively but always with great speed and deft skills. Attell, in turn, needed all of his tricks to bank the fire and keep his distance.
Abe’s punches lacked their normal snap and authority as Moran blunted their effect with his skilful and evasive form of aggression. But Attell was a wonderful fighter who could still leave his mark when under pressure. He found the range sufficiently to give Owen a black eye and a bleeding nose.
Moran clearly relished the examination paper that had been set. Abe was no less adept than the Englishman at feinting and slipping and was just as much of a tough cookie at taking his medicine. He avoided many of Moran’s hooks and swings to the jaw and didn’t appear greatly hurt by the body blows that were ripping into his stomach.
It was apparent that the two chess masters were cancelling each other out, but the crowd of some 8,000 found the battle of wits constantly engrossing. Moran switched between orthodox and southpaw to get close to Attell, following up with fast and hard blows on the inside. Abe jabbed and countered and hustled as each man searched for a weakness in the other’s game.
The twenty-fifth and final round saw Owen making a grandstand charge to grab the fight and the decision. Keeping his head down, he sailed into the champion with a volley of lefts and rights as Abe hit back in a thrilling finish. The fighters continued to tear at each other after the bell, and referee Jeffries needed much of his famous muscle to separate them. Jeff would tell reporters that he found it impossible to name a winner after such a close and intensely fought battle.
Attell would continue to frustrate Moran. Owen could equal and sometimes better Abe in combat, but could never conclusively or officially master the man they called the Little Hebrew. The two men would fight three further draws, while Attell would capture the newspaper verdict on two other occasions.
Battling Nelson
It is hard to believe that Owen Moran never added the featherweight or lightweight championship to his roll of honour. He truly was the nearly man who was as good as anybody on his day but never quite got the essential breaks. His progress was checked repeatedly by draw decisions and highly questionable defeats.
Only the unbiased boxing observers of the day knew the truth of some of these affairs, and there was certainly no doubt in the mind of the esteemed Nat Fleischer that Moran belonged with the all-time elite. In Nat’s view, Owen was the third greatest lightweight behind the dynamic duo of Joe Gans and Benny Leonard.
It was in that weight division, one of boxing’s most talent-laden, that Moran would make his indelible mark. On November 26, 1910, at Blot’s Arena in San Francisco, he did what no other man could ever do: knock out the great Durable Dane, Battling Nelson. Eddie Sterns had stopped the young Nelson and Ad Wolgast had butchered Bat to a standstill in their titanic engagement at Port Richmond. But nobody had put Nelson down for the count. It seemed that boxing would never see that particular curtain fall.
The execution was painfully drawn out as Moran’s clever attacks were heroically met by Nelson’s almost inhuman resistance. Bat, it seemed, regarded death as a more honourable exit than even the bravest capitulation. He was outsmarted and out-manoeuvred from the outset, yet never stopped trying to smash and batter his way through Owen’s defences.
There was nothing new in Nelson taking a shellacking to earn his daily bread. He had carved his formidable reputation from his simple but murderously effective hit-or-be-hit approach. But this time it was different and the wise birds at ringside sensed it.
By the ninth round, Nelson was tiring and flagging so badly that his backers feared the worst. Yet Moran’s coup-de-grace in the eleventh round was shocking for all that It is ever thus with the giants of the game. We see the axe cutting ever deeper into the tree, yet the inevitable crash still jolts the system. Nelson was moving in on Moran for the umpteenth time, enjoying limited success with occasional blows to the body. A left hook to the Englishman’s head offered Bat greater encouragement, but then he ran into the equivalent of a flying brick. As the fighters broke from a clinch, Moran ducked in anticipation of a left swing from Nelson. As Owen rose up, he fired a perfectly timed right straight from the shoulder that cracked against Bat’s chin with terrific force. Nelson was bowled over like a skittle as the crowd roared, yet remarkably scrambled to his feet at the count of nine.
There was no respite for the former lightweight champion as he was swept into a maelstrom that seemed to whirl and throw him around the ring for an eternity. He hit the deck five more times, twice being wrestled down as Owen tried to shake himself free to apply the kill. Finally, Moran found the killer punch. A right to the head concluded the rough-and-tumble battle, with Nelson just failing to beat referee Ben Selig’s count. Bat protested as great fighters do, but ringsiders were relieved that a legend of the sport would not have to suffer further.
Owen Moran had not won an elusive world championship. But with one of his greatest displays, he had written himself into the record books for all time.
Ad Wolgast at San Francisco
By Independence Day, 1911, Ad Wolgast was in the ferocious prime of his fighting life when he defended his lightweight championship against Owen Moran at San Francisco. Wolgast, the so-called Michigan Wildcat, was surely one of the most relentless and intimidating men who ever stepped into the ring.
In his savage marathon with Battling Nelson at Point Richmond, Ad had graphically demonstrated his maniacal and near suicidal desire to win. He was a furious fighting man, reckless and devil-may-care, no less of a danger to himself than he was to others. Punching, hustling and charging all the time, Wolgast would frequently offer his head as bait to his opponent and seemed to take his pain and punishment with as much relish as he gave it. Before his final fight in 1920, Ad would already be teetering between reality and fantasy from the brain damage of his many wars.
It could be said that Independence Day wasn’t the greatest day for an Englishman to be fighting Ad Wolgast, but the Wildcat never required special motivation. Like Moran, he just loved to fight.
The two men had engaged three years before in a no-contest in New York, when Wolgast was still climbing the ladder. By the time of their San Francisco meeting, Owen was twenty-seven years of age and already grizzled and jaded from a string of tough battles against talented and hungry men from a brutal boxing era that we will never truly understand.
Just as the great Nelson had taken his first ten count at the hands of Moran, so brave Owen would suffer the same fate against Wolgast. Ad set a breakneck pace and it was quickly evident that Owen would not be able to contain the Wildcat over the long haul.
Much of Moran’s genie-like magic was still in the bottle, and he was able to comfortably outbox Wolgast from long range, delighting the crowd with excellent jabbing and footwork and skilful ducking and slipping. But Owen’s finest work couldn’t prevent Wolgast from bulling his way inside and wreaking damage with his heavy body blows.
Ad walked through everything Moran had to offer and even took the play away from the challenger in the clinches. Few men had ever bettered Owen on the inside, but he simply couldn’t cope with the vicious right uppercuts that Ad was slamming home.
Deceptively clever in his own right, Wolgast was looping many of these hammer-like blows around Moran’s left arm.
The punishing attack of the champion eventually took its toll, although Moran’s confidence seemed to lift as the crowd applauded his skill. He got his second wind in the tenth and eleventh rounds, when he slowed Ad for the first time with an array of brilliantly timed punches.
Fighting Wolgast, however, must have drained many a man’s morale. Between rounds, Ad laughed and chatted with friends in the crowd, as if he were out for a pleasant stroll in the park in his own exceptional world.
No fighter is indestructible, but Wolgast was close to being so at that stage in his rip-roaring career. Moran was wearing down and even the feverish attention of his cornermen could inspire him no more. In the thirteenth round, Owen’s face turned sickly pale as Wolgast drove in a series of terrific right uppercuts to the stomach. A cut lip had left a smear of blood on Moran’s face as his tired body spluttered to a halt and began to waver and fall. A final left hook thudded against Owen’s jaw as he crashed into a sleep that lasted for some minutes.
As Wolgast’s supporters rushed into the ring to congratulate him, the champion tugged at the American flag he wore around his waist and exclaimed, “Some battle for the fourth of July!”
Some battle indeed.
Epilogue
Owen Moran was demonstrating how he knocked out Battling Nelson. The man gingerly pretending to be Nelson was Owen’s good friend, newspaper reporter Jimmy Butler. “It was like this,” Moran explained, dropping into a crouch. He feinted a punch to Butler’s stomach and then cracked him on the chin.
Owen was horrified as Butler staggered across the room, figuring that Jimmy would have the sense to step out of range. “Gosh, Jimmy, I’m sorry,” Moran said. “I didn’t mean to hit you.”
How Butler must have loved recounting that story. Owen Moran had actually apologized for hitting someone on the chin!
Owen Moran vs Battling Nelson in 1910, this is one of the most famous knockouts in boxing history because you just didn't knock Battling Nelson out, he was that durable and tough. This is the only time in Nelson's career that he was KO'd. Moran skillfully pot shotted Nelson from the outside and nullified him at close quarters en route to KO'ing him in 11, Nelson was on the canvas five separate times in the 11th round. It was the first and only time in his career that Nelson took the 10 count.
Here is the highlights of Owen Moran vs Battling Nelson in 1910, Moran really went after Nelson aggressively in the 11th round and finished him.
This is one of my favorite boxing cards and sets of all-time, the 1910 T9 Turkey Red Owen Moran.
Owen Moran in his prime featured on "Health & Strength" postcards of the time.
Owen Moran knocks out Luther McCarty.
Owen Moran (right) training on a rooftop.
One of the scariest one punch KO's you'll ever see. I'll certainly never forget this one.
Sergio "Maravilla" Martínez got vicious revenge with an insane 2nd round KO of Paul "The Punisher" Williams when he made his first defense of The Ring and WBC middleweight titles at the Boardwalk Hall in Atlantic City, New Jersey in 2010.
After a string of bad luck that included a draw with Kermit Cintron that should have been a stoppage win and losing to William by close decision in their first fight, Martínez defeated Kelly Pavlik for the lineal middleweight title. It set up a rematch with Williams, who was generally known as a busy and tough fighter, and a nightmare to get in the ring with.
This time Martínez made it look easy.
After a good round 1 between them, Martínez lined up Williams, a fellow southpaw, for a hard left hand that left the taller man completely stiff. He fell face-first to the canvas and any count would have been useless.
"I started to attack, and when I did, we knew he was going to make a mistake, because he always makes mistakes," Martínez said. "He left me a lot of room to come in and hit him."
The Sergio Martinez-Paul Williams KO.
Undefeated contender and Olympic gold medalist Michael Spinks loads up his "Spinks Jinx," his dangerous right fist, as he takes the fight to tough veteran Álvaro "Yaqui" López in a nationally televised light heavyweight clash at the Atlantic City Convention Center in 1980.
The high profile crossroads fight saw an aggressive Lopez battle valiantly before Spinks scored two knockdowns to force a TKO in round seven, the victory helping to pave the way to a world title shot in 1981 against Eddie Mustafa Muhammad. Spinks would defeat Muhammad by 15 round unanimous decision.
Eddie Perkins, among the best boxers to ever call Chicago home, was World Boxing Council junior welterweight champion and two-time World Boxing Association junior welterweight champion during a 19-year professional career.
A native of Clarksdale, Miss., Perkins moved to Chicago as a child and settled with his family on the South Side. He graduated from Phillips High School and began boxing professionally in 1956 after compiling a 26-10 amateur record, according to the International Boxing Hall of Fame.
Perkins was trained and managed by boxing legend Johnny Coulon, who operated a gym in the 1100 block of East 63rd Street with his wife, Marie. Under Coulon's tutelage, he trained alongside reigning heavyweight champion Muhammad Ali and became a standout defensive specialist.
Perkins won his first WBA title in Milan, Italy, with a 15-round unanimous decision over Duilio Loi in 1962. He lost a rematch with Loi three months later, but would regain the WBA title and win the WBC belt in a unanimous decision over Roberto Cruz In the summer of 1963. He wouldn't lose another bout until 1965.
In retirement, Perkins spent a decade mentoring young fighters at Leo High School on the South Side. Boxing in more than 20 countries, Perkins often fought on consecutive nights for low pay. He felt he had to train harder than his opponents to gain decisive victories that left no doubt in the minds of judges who were sometimes prejudiced against African-Americans, said Leo graduate Thomas Hayes, Chicago Golden Gloves heavyweight champion in 2001.
"Don't leave it up to the judges," Hayes said was the lesson from Mr. Perkins. "And we didn't."
Mr. Perkins was "a lovely man," with a jovial nature that made it hard to envision him as a former world-class pugilist — until he stepped between the ropes, said Leo President Dan McGrath.
"Once he got into the ring, you could tell," McGrath said. "He was in his element."
Never known as a knockout artist, Perkins was a guileful puncher who remained elusive well into his 60s while training at Leo, where he would stand in the ring keeping his feet still and deflect punches from young men less than half his age.
"You could stand in front of him and throw punches and not be able to hit him," said Mike Joyce, Leo boxing coach.
Perkins retired from boxing in 1975 with a career record of 74 wins, 20 losses and two draws, and became a paper branch delivery manager for the Chicago Sun-Times. He remained in excellent shape by jogging and bowling, and imparted decades of his championship wisdom inside and outside of the ring.
"A lot of trainers can only tell you," said retired boxer James Kitchen. "He could put on the gloves and show you."
Former WBC light heavyweight champion Montell Griffin was a toddler when Perkins sparred at the Windy City Gym in Lawndale run by Griffin's father, Clarence. Windy City was previously the same gym owned by Perkins' former manager, Coulon.
Griffin, who has won 50 professional fights, said he tells people he's Chicago's greatest boxer when asked, and defers only to Mr. Perkins.
"Plain and simple, he's the best fighter to ever come out of Chicago," he said.
Some more images of the great Eddie Perkins.
Armando Muniz (left) watching Eddie Perkins (center). Perkins finished his sparring session in preparation for their bout. Perkins beat Muniz twice both NABF welterweight title fights.
Eddie Perkins is one of the best technicians I have ever seen.
He would tie fighters in knots with feints, setting traps with his left hand, creating angles using pivots, landing hard straight right and left hook counters, and so much more.
A real complete technician. He kept his left hand quite low but it was always in a position to block and counter-punch. He did a lot of leading in with a low left then leaning back away from fighters shots and flicking a counter jab into fighters faces.
He also picked superb right hand and left hook counters. Another thing he excelled at was parrying with his right hand. And the feinting, well it was amazing and very effective. Another thing I loved was the way he got down low and pivoted to change angle as fighters opened up, it was just superb.
Eddie Perkins is the GZA of the boxing world, you watch him on face value and you see a very good fighter, you analyse him a bit more and you appreciate him even more. His style is just so layered.
He's just such a lovely fighter to watch.
Eddie Perkins chewing the fat with former world champion Johnny "Honey Boy" Bratton (left), a former undisputed world Jr welterweight champion, Eddie prepares for haircut in the barber shop of Bob Weatherly. Spot was a hangout for Chicago fighters. A stranger to the public, Eddie got VIP treatment from friends.
Eddie Perkins is one of my favorite fighters to watch, the way he could punch through someone's defense was incredible. There used to be a highlight video of him on YouTube but sadly someone took it down.
Chris Eubank: “A lot of people love boxing but they have not actually been in there, and haven't tasted the bitterness of a beating.”
Chris Eubank Sr. possessed one of the strongest chins in boxing history, an iron jaw that refused to crack, even against the heaviest of punchers.
Nigel Benn once said: “I hit him with everything, and he just stood there. I don’t know what that man’s chin is made of, but it ain’t human.”
"Terrible" Terry Norris, 4-time Super-Welterweight Champion and Hall of Famer, defended his WBC title a total of 16 times and IBF title 4 times. One of the most gifted athletes ever seen, with otherworldly speed, power, footwork, stamina, a brilliant left hook and crazy combinations, Terry defeated the likes of Sugar Ray Leonard, Donald Curry, John Mugabi, Meldrick Taylor, Maurice Blocker, Simon Brown and Carl Daniels.
On March 8th, 2024, heavyweight Francis "The Predator" Ngannou was brutally knocked out in two rounds at the hands of Great Britain's Anthony Joshua. Ngannou, who was a former feared UFC Heavyweight champion, was attempting to make a cross over from MMA to boxing. Ngannou, known for his brutal punching power in UFC, had previously made his boxing debut against then heavyweight champion Tyson Fury, giving Fury a good tussle and even flooring Fury. But in his next fight, Ngannou quickly learned that boxing is a different world. Joshua floored a shell-shocked Ngannou with a vicious right hand in the opening round before knocking down the former UFC heavyweight champion twice in the next, the second of which would leave Ngannou flat out for the count.