"Sit down, son, it's all over" whispered Eddie Futch to Joe Frazier after 14 gruelling rounds against Muhammad Ali in Manila. His fighter may have lost, but Futch's moving moment of compassion was as important as any victory in his celebrated career as one of history's finest trainers.
“I thought, ‘He’s a good father and I want him to see his kids grow up,’ ” Futch later said.
“With Eddie,” said Marc Ratner, executive director of the Nevada State Athletic Commission, “it was always about the fighter. It was never about money.”
The great cornerman died in 2001 at 90 years old.
Futch trained five heavyweight champions: Larry Holmes, Joe Frazier, Riddick Bowe, Michael Spinks and Trevor Berbick. Among his other titleholders were light-heavyweights Bob Foster and Montell Griffin, light-middleweight Mike McCallum, the great multi-weight champ Alexis Arguello, and welterweights Marlon Starling and Don Jordan.
The sequel that made every fight feel personal. You’d step into the ring as Little Mac again, dodging lightning-fast punches and waiting for that perfect counter to land a knockout.
Each boxer was a cartoon character come to life — from Bald Bull’s charge to Bear Hugger’s belly slams.
The crowd cheers, the announcer’s energy, the punch impact — all pure SNES perfection.
Super Punch-Out!! was fast, flashy, and brutally satisfying.
Tami Mauriello and the night he staggered the great Joe Louis
by John J. Raspanti
Mauriello was confident. If he could land his right...
As he circled to his left, the underdog likely pondered when would be a good time to throw his vaunted right. If the punch landed, his entire life would change.
The underdog, Stefano “Tami” Mauriello, was 23, the highest-ranking contender for heavyweight championship honors. His chances of winning were considered slim at best. But Mauriello had hope. His right hand could be deadly, causing most of his 49 victims to go to sleep, 11 in succession.
His opponent that night was a legend, winner of 57 of 58 professional fights. His single loss had happened at the same venue 10 years before, in a stunning upset. He avenged it two years later in just over two minutes.
Joe Louis was 33 when Mauriello fought him, and had recently concluded his military service honorably. His first real fight in four years (he had fought close to 100 exhibition bouts while in the U.S. Army) had been a much-anticipated rematch against Billy Conn in 1946. Conn had come within a whisker of winning the title five years before. The sequel was a disappointment. Both fighters had slowed. Louis knocked out Conn in eight.
Despite having polio that affected his legs in childhood, Mauriello, born in New York, made his professional debut at 15, knocking out Gilberto Ramirez Vasquez in the opening stanza. Two years later, he challenged reigning light heavyweight champion Gus Lesnevich. Floored for a nine count in round two, Mauriello battled back, only to lose the fight by split decision.
Lesnevich prevailed again in a rematch less than two months later. Mauriello shook off the losses and, fighting sometimes twice a month, won his next ten bouts.
In 1942, he went to Cleveland to face hometown hero, Jimmy Bivins. The talented Bivins, who held victories over Lesnevich, and future champion, Joey Maxim, (and would defeat future heavyweight champion Ezzard Charles the following year) knocked down Mauriello – winning the fight over 10 hard fought rounds.
Mauriello rebounded by defeating warhorse, Lee Savold, and stopping former title challenger Lou Nova. Nova had him down for a nine count in the opening stanza, but as he was prone to do, Mauriello got up and battled back.
A rematch with Bivins went down in New York in 1943. Prior to the fight, Mauriello friend, Frank Sinatra, sang the national anthem. Just like in their first fight, Bivins floored him early. Mauriello rallied, but ran out of time. Mauriello’s loss “made Frank Sinatra cry” writes Jerry Fitch in his book, Cleveland’s Greatest Fighters of All Time.
A pattern was emerging. Mauriello fought harder after he tasted the canvas. Savold had him down in their second fight, but couldn’t keep him there. Mauriello got up and won the fight.
Twenty fights later, he faced off against the aging Louis. Mauriello weighed 198 pounds, Louis 211.
Everyone and his brother knew Louis could be tagged by right hands. That flaw had been exploited by Max Schmeling in 1936. Louis had tweaked his tendency to drop his left, but openings occasionally did present themselves. But Louis was always dangerous. Mauriello was confident he could land his Sunday punch. Louis was noticeably slower. Mauriello wasn’t awed. He’d go for it.
Less than ten seconds into the first heat, he did just that. He let the right fly. The arc was true. The blow landed—sending Louis stumbling into the ropes. Most of the thirty thousand plus in attendance rose in surprise. Was one of the biggest upsets in boxing history imminent.? Mauriello certainly thought so. He followed Louis into the ropes, going for a knockout.
Louis grabbed Mauriello for perhaps a second, and reacting like a switch had been flipped, fought back furiously. It was as if he said, “OK, that got my attention. Now it’s my turn.” Mauriello landed another right, but Louis shook it off and uncorked a wicked left hook that crumbled Mauriello. The challenger rolled over and took a knee, rising at six. He went back to moving to his left as Louis pursued. A big right to the chin hurt Mauriello. He held on. Louis shook him off.
Seconds later, a wicked combination sent Mauriello to his knees. He rested his head on the ring rope, like a man resigned to his fate. For the first time in his career, he wouldn’t be able to get up.
“I thought I had him,” said Mauriello to AP writer Gayle Talbot as tears rolled down his checks. “I thought I had him, and I grew careless.”
Perhaps, but Mauriello had gone for it, which is always admirable. He’d lose five of his next 18 bouts, and retire at 26.
In 1954, he appears in the classic film, On the Waterfront, starring Marlon Brando as Terry Molloy. Mauriello plays Tillio, who bullies and laughs at the misfortune of others. It’s quite enjoyable when Terry, repulsed by the corruption surrounding him, sends the mouthy Tillio flying with a crisp combination. His acting, as the goonish Tillio is solid, and completely opposite of the real happy-go-lucky and kind-hearted Mauriello.
Mauriello died in 1999. His last years were tough. One can only wonder how often he thought about that night in 1946.
No matter. His right hand shook up the world of a legendary heavyweight champion.
Tami Mauriello was a good fighter, good heavyweight contender in the 1930s and 40s, with great power in his right hand. But Joe Louis is arguably the greatest heavyweight that ever lived, he had ridiculous recuperative powers, and he's the greatest puncher in boxing history, you just couldn't hold Louis back for long. He was ruthless.
Gosh, this stuff is so fascinating, boxing is such a fascinating sport. Paul "Scrap Iron" Ryan could really bang, 14 straight KOs culminating in a 1 round blowout of top 10 contender Ross Hale for the Britsh/Commonwealth 140lbs titles. He was 1 fight away from a world title shot. Only two of his fights lasted the distance, and he never went beyond eight rounds. 24 of his 28 fights ended within 4 rounds. His fights usually ended with him knocking out his opponent, or getting knocked out himself, regardless, "Scrap Iron" was a fight fan's dream come true, his fights were always action packed.
Paul ‘Scrap Iron’ Ryan brought excitement and a no-nonsense attitude
By Paul Zanon
PAUL ‘SCRAP IRON’ RYAN was pure entertainment value, with dynamite in his fists and an extremely low bulls**t threshold.
At 60 years of age, he still wears his flat cap, an item of clothing that remained glued to his head whenever he strolled out to the sounds of, ‘Any Old Iron?’ However, life for the London knockout artist didn’t start as he had intended.
“I grew up in Limehouse, London, and was there until about 12, then we moved to Hainault and stayed there for about five or six years,” Ryan told Boxing News.
“Then we moved to Hackney where my dad rented the house out that we had, and he bought a pub, which we also lived in. That’s where my life of trouble started.
“I didn’t like school and I basically got in with the wrong crowd. I’m badly dyslexic, but in them days they didn’t know anything about that. The teachers would be explaining things and I didn’t have a clue what they were talking about. I was terrible at English, good at maths, but all the other stuff I just couldn’t do. As a result, I just messed about.”
From flicking the back of fellow students’ ears in class, to bunking lessons, Ryan’s focus started drifting into darkness.
The London-based southpaw explained: “I was 15 when I first went to prison. It was always for stupid stuff like thieving and fighting. In the space of about seven or eight years, I was only outside of prison for about three months.
“I’d be let out, get nicked, go back in, and get let out. Again and again and again. I was either thieving someone or having a fight with someone. That was my life.”
While serving time, Ryan fell victim to a broken arm, which for a future professional boxer wasn’t ideal, as he would never be able to fully extend it.
“I got let out of Chelmsford and, a week later, I was back in there again,” he recalled. “When I walked in, this screw said, ‘look who’s back. It didn’t take you long!’ I just said, ‘don’t talk to me like that.’ He then grabbed me, so I nutted him.
“It all kicked off, and next thing I knew, there were about eight or nine screws on me. I don’t even remember the moment when my arm got broken.”
Thankfully, a switch of mindset put Ryan onto a more positive and productive path.
“I started watching boxing when Barry McGuigan had just won the world title in 1985,” Ryan said. “I was out for a little while from Chelmsford at the time, but went back in soon after.
“When I saw [McGuigan] in that ring, I loved it, but I didn’t do anything about it because I didn’t know where to go in terms of boxing clubs and all that, and shortly after I was back in the nick anyway.
“My last stretch was in Chelmsford prison. I was there for about 18 months and was let out in my early twenties, thinking to myself, ‘I don’t want any more of this.’ I knew I had to do something different with my life, and that’s when I decided to try boxing.
“I went to Repton Boxing Club when I was about 25 and spoke with the bloke who was running it and said, ‘I’m a bit old now, don’t you think?’ He said, ‘come back tomorrow and there will be people your own age.’ I went back the next night and it was the juniors.
“I thought he was messing me about, so I walked out of there and went to another club called St Monica’s, which was in Hoxton. I loved it, and never looked back. The club is not there anymore, which is a shame.”
Ryan soon studied the mentality of a boxer, and the commitment needed to succeed.
“I used to run about five and a half miles at a good pace and, at the end of each run, there was a tower block. We used to run right up to the top, which was 21 floors, then I’d try to walk down with wobbly legs, holding onto the railing in case my legs gave way!”
The training paid off and Ryan launched himself into a short, yet fruitful, amateur career.
“I had 18 amateur fights and won 16,” he claimed. “I won the London ABA’s and got to the semi-finals of the nationals.”
Ryan had no intention of turning professional, however, a bit of encouragement from British training legend, Howard Rainey, soon changed his mind.
“I went down to his gym, training, and was an amateur at the time,” he said. “Howard said to me, ‘you’d make a good pro,’ and I said, ‘pro?’ I didn’t have a clue what pro boxing was back then, but I had a think about it and decided to give it a go.
“That was that. It was actually him that gave me the nickname ‘Scrap Iron.’ We got on like a house on fire, me and him. He was a great trainer and a brilliant human being.”
Ryan’s pro debut was on 26 September 1991 against fellow debutant Chris Mylan at the Queensway Hall, Dunstable. He recalled. “I remember it like it was yesterday. He was a tough boy and took me all the way. I hit him with everything and I mean everything and he didn’t go nowhere. I was trying to knock him out and kept hitting him and hitting him, but he wouldn’t go down. He was like a brick.”
Ryan’s next fight was on the undercard of Colin McMillan at the Royal Albert Hall, which he fondly remembers.
“I was blown away by it all,” he gleamed. “Even now, I enjoy telling my sons about that fight at the Albert Hall. Getting my first stoppage [in the fourth round against Alex Sterling] at somewhere like that was something else. I can still hear the crowd cheering and clapping.”
1995 was an action-packed year for Ryan. After clocking up three stoppage wins and extending his record to 18-0, he took on tough hombre Oscar Palamino at the Albert Hall in his first title fight for the WBO Inter-Continental super-lightweight strap. Palamino was 15-2 and had never been stopped.
“Now, that was a nice fight,” recalled Ryan. “All that fear stuff – I didn’t have any of that. I was always scared of getting beat, because I didn’t want to get beat. I wasn’t scared of an opponent or being hurt by them. Never. I had a mad way of thinking. When I saw blood, I had to go in for the kill. I went nuts and went in with the big shots. Palamino was a tough bastard. I hit him with loads of big shots, but he also caught me with loads. I stopped him in the end, but it could have gone the other way.”
It’s worth noting that Palamino had back-to-back European title fights straight after the Ryan defeat, and also went on to become the Spanish lightweight champion.
On December 9, 1995, Ryan took on Ross Hale for the British and Commonwealth super-lightweight straps. Hale was the reigning champion since 1994, and had won the Lonsdale Belt outright. In 27 fights, he’d only lost one, however Ryan was unbeaten in 21 fights, with only two of them going the distance. Surely ‘Scrap Iron’ fancied the challenge?
“Believe it or not, I wasn’t confident at all,” he admitted. “I knew there was a possibility that, if he hit me, I’d go, but I kept telling myself that it wouldn’t happen. I fought him like all the others I fought. I went straight for him from the first round and, fortunately, he went down. I had a pretty good punch.”
Ryan certainly did have the firepower to back up his talk. He stopped Hale in two minutes and 12 seconds of the first round.
Three months later, last-minute substitute Jon Thaxton stepped in at the York Hall, possessing a record of 10-3. Unfortunately, Ryan was stopped in the opening stanza.
“I was absolutely gutted,” he said. “It still kills me thinking about that fight. The bell went and it was going the same as all the other [fights]. I’d just caught him with a big shot and he went on the ropes, came off, and caught me right on the chin. I was sparko. I can’t say I didn’t prepare for that fight. Absolutely not. I got ready for him like it was a world title fight. In fact, I fought every fight like it was a world title fight.”
Thankfully, the titles were not on the line against Thaxton, but they certainly were against Merseyside’s Andy Holligan five months later, once again at York Hall. Holligan had been stopped in three rounds by Ross Hale in 1994, which consequently made Ryan the betting favourite. Ryan shook his head as he recalled that night.
“Listen,” he said. “The Thaxton fight, yep, I was sparko, I couldn’t fight on, but the Holligan fight, nah. That fight should have never been stopped in a million years. He caught me with an absolutely nothing shot on the side of the head, I went down, I got up and the ref stopped it. I was fine to go on, but the fight was over. That’s boxing for ya.”
Nine months later, Ryan was back in the ring at welterweight and, over the next three months, from April to July 1997, he clocked up three stoppage wins. On September 13, 1997, Ryan had his last fight against Geoff McCreesh for his British welterweight title.
Recalling his swansong, Ryan said: “He was a tough boy, Geoff. I truly believed I was going to win it, but that night he came on to me, hit me, and kept throwing punches when he thought he had me hurt. He stopped me before I could fire back. After that fight, I’d had enough and knew that I was getting on. I didn’t want to get beat anymore and, after that last loss, I knew that I couldn’t take a punch as well as I used to.”
Ryan finished his career with three losses and 25 victories, which included an incredible 92% stoppage ratio. Surely Paul ‘Scrap Iron’ Ryan would have been a fan-favourite in Saudi Arabia? Ryan laughed, before saying, “Big time! I’ve been there about five or six times and love it. I would have absolutely loved to have fought out there, but it’s a bit late now!”
Ingemar Johansson lies unconscious on the canvas as Floyd Patterson is mobbed by his jubilant cornermen at the Polo Grounds in New York in 1960.
Patterson avenged his 1959 upset defeat to the Swede and became the first boxer to ever regain the heavyweight championship of the world when he knocked "Ingo" out in round five. It had been a competitive and crowd-pleasing brawl before Patterson crashed home a vicious, leaping left hook that instantly rendered Johansson unconscious; he would lie on the canvas for five full minutes before he could be revived.
The Ring awarded the battle its Fight of the Year award, while Patterson would be declared Fighter of the Year. A third Patterson vs Johansson clash in 1961 saw Floyd and Ingemar trade knockdowns before Patterson won by KO in round six.
"Little Apache" Charles Ledoux, bantamweight contender from Pougues-les-Eaux, France who fought from 1909 to 1926. Murderous puncher, he iced 80 opponents during his career.
Love this. A statue honoring one of Britain’s most beloved boxing legends, Ricky “The Hitman” Hatton, has been unveiled in Manchester, the city where his incredible journey from a local hero to a global boxing superstar began.
Hatton’s career remains a golden chapter in British boxing history — a fighter defined by relentless aggression, fearless determination, and an unbreakable bond with his passionate fans. From his unforgettable nights at the Manchester Arena to his world title triumphs, Hatton embodied the fighting spirit of the working class and became a symbol of pride for millions.
This statue immortalizes not just his achievements in the ring, but his enduring legacy as a champion who gave everything for the sport and his supporters.
Ricky Hatton’s story is one of heart, humility, and heroism. His statue now stands as a timeless reminder that true greatness is not only measured by titles won, but by the love and respect earned from the people.
Love this shot with the birds perched on his shoulders. It's the perfect image of Hatton, with his arms and mouth open, yelling out in joy after he stopped Jose Luis Castillo with a brutal body shot in 2007.
Dave Tiberi, born on September 12, 1966, in New Castle, Delaware, was a middleweight boxer who left an indelible mark on the sport despite a relatively short professional career. At 5'11" with a 72.4-inch reach, Tiberi's orthodox stance and solid chin would become his trademark in the ring. He began his professional journey on July 24, 1985, at the age of 18, securing a unanimous decision victory over Mike Jefferson in a four-round bout in Atlantic City.
Throughout his career, Tiberi steadily climbed the ranks, amassing an impressive record of 22 wins, 2 losses, and 2 draws. His most notable fight came on February 8, 1992, when he challenged the undefeated James Toney for the IBF World Middleweight title at the Trump Taj Mahal in Atlantic City. This bout would be the pinnacle of Tiberi's career and his last professional fight, ending in a controversial split decision loss that many observers believed Tiberi had won.
The Toney-Tiberi fight remains one of boxing's most contentious decisions. Tiberi, a significant underdog, employed a pressure-heavy strategy devised by his trainer, Marty Feldman and honed through sparring sessions with future Hall of Famer Bernard Hopkins. Despite being rocked in the first round, Tiberi's chin held up, and he continued to push forward, seemingly outworking Toney for much of the fight. The controversial nature of the decision led to a Senate investigation, which revealed irregularities in the judging process, including the use of unlicensed judges.
Tiberi's career was marked by his willingness to face tough competition. He had previously turned down fights with ageing legends Sugar Ray Leonard and Roberto Durán, believing the Toney fight was coming at the perfect time in his career. His training camps were notable for their quality, often featuring world-class sparring partners like Bernard Hopkins, Prince Charles Williams, and Steve Little.
Following his retirement from boxing, Tiberi transitioned into the business world, founding a successful security system company. He briefly returned to the sport as a promoter in Delaware, organizing shows at Dover Downs before deciding to focus on his primary business. Tiberi's final professional record stands at 22 wins (8 by knockout), 3 losses, and 2 draws.
Today, Dave Tiberi is remembered not just for his controversial fight with James Toney but also for his dedication to the sport, his tactical acumen in the ring, and his ability to compete at the highest level of middleweight boxing during the early 1990s. Though his career was shorter than some, it left a lasting impact on the boxing world and continues to be a topic of discussion among fight fans and historians alike.
"The Wee Man" Walter McGowan was a Scottish boxer born in Hamilton, South Lanarkshire. He was known for having been lineal world flyweight champion. He was a skillful boxer, who showed brilliant footwork and knew how to use the ring. However, he suffered throughout his career with cuts, often having fights stopped despite being ahead on points. Without this failing, he would have had an even more successful career. He was the son of Thomas McGowan, a miner who boxed professionally under the name of Joe Gans in tribute to the great American fighter of that name. At their home in Hamilton, his father taught young Walter the basics of the noble art, and it was soon clear that the diminutive McGowan – he was just over 5"2' at his tallest and his usual fighting weight was just over 8 stone – was a boxer of the highest class.
As an amateur, he enjoyed an outstanding career, losing just two of 124 bouts and winning the ABA flyweight title in 1961. Turning professional under his father’s management, McGowan’s strict training regime included cold baths and daily five mile runs.
Such was his prowess that he was matched against Edinburgh’s Jackie Brown for the Scottish flyweight championship in only his third paid fight. Brown won on points, but McGowan gained revenge two years later when he defeated Brown, by then the British and Commonwealth champion, to gain a Lonsdale Belt.
McGowan knocked Brown out in the tenth round of the fight at Paisley Ice Rink and was soon awarded the Belt outright, there being no other British challenger good enough to face him. In April 1964, McGowan took on Salvatore Burruni of Italy for the European flyweight title, losing on points in Rome. Burruni went on to win the world title, and in the rematch at the Empire Pool, Wembley, in April 1966, McGowan gave Burruni a masterclass in boxing skills to win the WBC championship aged 23, for which he was awarded the MBE. McGowan had one great weakness, and that was a tendency to cut easily. His next opponent, Alan Rudkin of Liverpool, tried to aim for the scar tissue around McGowan’s face, but was completely outboxed as McGowan took Rudkin’s British and Commonwealth bantamweight titles. A terrible cut to his nose saw McGowan lose his world title in Thailand in his first defence against Chartchai Chionoi, and it was more cuts which stopped McGowan in the rematch in September,1967. After he lost his British and Commonwealth titles to Rudkin, McGowan fought on until 1969, when he retired with a record of 32 wins, seven losses and a draw.
Peter Harrison, father and coach of former world featherweight champion Scott, said, “Boxing as an amateur in the 1960s, Walter was my hero. He had such fantastic skills.
It was on June 14, 1966, when Walter McGowan, well ahead by the seventh round of his world WBC flyweight title clash against Salvatore Barruni, sustained a gashed eye of sufficent severity to warrant the close inspection of English referee, Harry Gibbs. But McGowan shrugged off the handicap to box, as one ringside ring critic put it "like a little master. Using his speed, jabbing in clusters and bringing the right hand home." These were the boxing skills which brought him victory and Scotland her fourth world flyweight champion.
The legendary lightweight Ken Buchanan was good friends and sparring partners with McGowan:
'The wee man was only 5ft 3in but, in terms of his heart, he was a giant,’ said Buchanan. ‘He was also an articulate guy and his only flaw was that the skin around his eyes wasn’t thick enough, so he had a tendency to cut — that was the only thing that held him back. I used to spar with him when I was a youngster. I’d travel through from Edinburgh to his dad’s gym in Hamilton and I learned a lot from Walter.
‘He could counter-punch before you’d even thrown your punch!
‘Any time I hit him I’d apologise because you knew there was going to be more coming back at you. He was a lovely man, though, always willing to pass on advice to younger fighters like myself.
Walter had a terrific left hook and he’d hit you with uppercuts and leave you wondering where those punches had come from.
‘But his most important weapon was his jab. He could keep you off balance all night with it and that was the foundation for everything else.
‘He was brave, too. He never ducked anyone, although the opposite isn’t true.
‘Walter was also a gentleman outside the ring. I’m not ashamed to say that I loved the man.’
Boxing promoter and manager Alex Morrison became a friend and confidant of McGowan’s, and had no hesitation in describing him as the greatest Scottish fighter of them all.
‘Pound for pound, I believe that Walter was the finest boxer ever to come out of this country,’ he said.
‘He had everything — his skills were amazing and he was so fast that opponents often couldn’t see the punches coming.
‘There weren’t enough flyweights around at the time but Walter didn’t let that bother him — he’d take on bantamweights, even though they were bigger and heavier.'
Vernon Forrest pulled off a stunning upset in 2002, winning a unanimous, overwhelming decision over the man generally considered the best pound-for-pound fighter in the world at the time – Sugar Shane Mosley.
Forrest knocked him down twice, battered him from ring post to ring post and blasted away at his body in front of a shocked crowd of 5,323 at Madison Square Garden.
“If he is the best boxer in the world,” Forrest said, “the Michael Jordan of basketball, and I beat him, does that make me the Michael Jordan of basketball?”
Forrest won the WBC welterweight title that Mosley had won from Oscar De La Hoya in June 2000.
Prime Vernon Forrest was no joke, one of the greatest technicians of all-time. He was nicknamed "The Viper" because of the speed of his punches and his impressive hand speed, which allowed him to throw fast, eye-catching combinations. The nickname reflected his quick and dangerous style in the boxing ring. This is a sick poster of Vernon Forrest with Viper snake boxing gloves on.
Obscure bad a$$ time. Australian power puncher Elley Bennett.
Following the theme of tragic men, with gold in their gloves, and a life missing the sparkle, Elley Bennett is another who fits the picture.
Aboriginal KO machine, Elley Bennett was born at Pialba, QLD April 3, 1924. Just a year before his hero, Ron Richards had his first tent fight. Elley grew up with dreams of emulating the career of Ron, and in many ways, both careers were the same. The final result in life, a definate draw.
As a child, he tried his hand at any work available for an Aboriginal boy. Typically, all involved manual labour, bullock driving and cane cutting being a standard bread winner.
After a fruitless earlt attempt in the punch-for-pay arena, Elley finally struck some success, and via Stan McBride, was enticed to Brisbane to train under the eye of Snowy Hill, formerly a Qld champ. With three quick KO's in '46 Snowy was certain Elley Bennett was a force to be reckoned with, a potential champion. Snowy also felt the effects of Elley's punching power, suffering a single body blow in training, which left the trainer with breathing difficulties for months.
In 1947 after a string of KO's, Elley battled Val Newman for the Qld Bantamweight title, a mere formailty for Bennett, and the beginning of what should appear the road to greatness.
In April, 1948, Elley toppled National Bantam Champ Mick Francis in 3 rounds. The same Mick Francis was a KO machine himself, defending his crown 4 times via the KO route, before relinquishing the title, and sailing to England. Sadly for Mick, upon return to our shores, he again was appointed champ, and sent to neverland via the iron fists of Elley.
For Bennett, the world was almost upon him, boxing well before dispensing Philipino Little Paras, sending Emile Famechon to bed early twice, as well as Emile's countryman, Jean Jouas. By the time Elley had his first Sydney appearence, he was already rated the worlds #7 Bantam. For this particular fight, Cecil Schoomaker had the misfortune of having a 3-1 betting favour for himself. Cecil was a schooled boxer, evasive and sharp. Looking the googs for the first half of the fight, Cecil become careless, Elley tagged him in the 6th round, and Cecil never heard the count.
Come 1950, Bennett again faced the biggest names in contention. Firstly, Ernesto Aquilar, the man who'd been the distance of 15 rounds with brilliant Carloz Ortiz a few years prior. This time, Bennett lost on points over 12 rounds. Former champ, Harold dade was another foe for Bennett, who would lose again via the points route.
Settling back, and facing Ray 'Mustard' Coleman, a tough guy with 100 fights to his name, for the national Feather crown, Elley had lost the fight in all eyes after 14 rounds. For Elley, a one punch KO artist, time was nigh..... a two punch combo send Coleman into dreamland, and the Feather crown was the reward.
At the time, a skinny southpaw was making noise throughout the country in the Bantam division. Never one to train religiously, having to boil down to make the weight, took its toll on Elley, and the 'skinny' southpaw took the points over 15 rounds... the following year, the same 'skinny' southpaw took the World Bantamweight title from Vic Toweel.. KO1. This or course, was our first recognised World Champ, Jimmy Carruthers.
Elley returned to meet Ray Coleman again, in defence of the feather title, again KO15 was the result, although, the police ordered the fight to cease...Next defence was the same result against gentleman 'Bluey' Wilkins, this time without police intervention. . Bluey had the misfortune of meeting Bennett 5 times in his career, including a 9th round KO victory over a drained Bennet, whilst Ray Coleman lasted the distance with Jimmy Carruthers.
In 1954, the battles against the weight had taken its toll, relinguishing his Australian Featherweight Title. For Elley Bennett, a career tally of 44 wins (40KO's) against 11 losses, his standing in the record books is limited. Suggestions of a World Title shot against Vic Toweel had circulated... the dissapointing colour-bar had aparently been raised, ensuring Toweel a painless defence against Carruthers, painless due to the fact Vic was rendered useless after the first punch.
For Bennett, the pains had just begun. Have made a small fortune, and hitting the bottle, he still followed his dream of buying a fishing trawler, the venture failed dramatically. Legend has it, he deliberately sunk the boat, quicker than a bottle, and continued the booze with terrible effect.
Nothing went well for Elley, his own son was sentence to life in prison, and Elley, having been locked up for drunkeness over 50 times, was to meet his death in Bundaberg, 1981. Trevor King, a former oponent mentioned his last meeting, "I'll never forget it, there was this pathetic little man, his mind all jumbled and dribbling at the mouth. When they let me in to see him, he put his arms around me and cried like a little baby"
The greats who knew Elley Bennett, always spoke of him with a great mixture of emotion, admiration and regret. Those who experienced his power, spoke of the same man who 'The Ring' magazine rated as the P4P hardest puncher of the era.
Elley Bennett is still considered by many, as the Hardest puncher in the history of the game... and those who suggest it, are those who felt his sting... even though Elley would be smiling at the same time.
For Elley Bennett, he managed to emulate the same as Ron Richards, sadly, the greatest comparison is post career.
Another obscure bad a$$, Johnny Verderosa, lightweight contender who fought between 1979-1984 amassing a record of 27-3 including a victory over Sean O'Grady. Nicknamed "The Heat", Verderosa won the USBA lightweight title in March, 1981. The Heat made his big debut in a showdown with fellow unbeaten Robert Mullins for the vacant USBA super featherweight title. First, he ruined Mullins during the pre-fight staredown using the biggest and most vacuous gray eyes and slack jawed gape. This weirdest of stares sent the message, "Who are you, and what are we doing here?" To look into those eyes was to see chaos, and glimpse the mind of a crazy person. When the bell rang, Mullins tore after him in a panicked attack, leaving himself wide open for a counter right which put poor Mullins to sleep in 28 seconds. Johnny would enter the ring dancing to the AC/DC he had playing for announcing his arrival on the public address system. Early in his career, he owned and operated an arcade which he ditched as his career picked up momentum and recognition. He never lost his USBA SFW belt. Nicky Perez, Louis "The Syrian" Hubela, Julio Valdez and Enrique Solis make for some fine scalps on his record, and recovering from the beating Boza Edwards leveled on him, he did well to recover within a year to retire O'Grady in four. The Bubblegum Bomber Sean O'Grady started out superbly, with sharp and slashing combinations. Johnny just tank rolled through and under Sean's attack, then it became apparent who had the superior strength, chin and firepower. O'Grady was finished when it became apparent that he couldn't go toe-to-toe with the smaller and older Verderosa. One thing's for certain, Verderosa brought the heat with him to the ring, he was an exciting fighter with brutal knockout power.
Hall of Famer Jack Britton, "The Boxing Marvel", who won the world welterweight title twice in a ring career that spanned twenty-six years, was born William J. Breslin in Clinton, NY in 1885. He won the welterweight crown twice and lost it once between 1916 and 1919 against arch rival Ted Kid Lewis. They fought an incredible twenty times covering 222 rounds. The most remarkable rivalry in boxing history. Most of the Britton-Lewis matches were officially no-decision bouts, but in 1916, Britton won a decision over Lewis to take the welterweight title. For the next six years, the two fighters monopolized the championship. Lewis regained it in a twenty-round decision in 1917. In 1919, Britton knocked out Lewis in the ninth round to take it back. Britton remained the champion until 1922.
Britton failed to go the distance only once in 344 bouts, he had one of the greatest chins in the history of the game, he was basically as close to unknockoutable as a fighter comes at a given weight.
“THE BOXING MARVEL”
Today, if a writer or historian brings up Jack Britton’s name at all, it is usually while praising his great Hall of Fame rivals Benny Leonard and Ted “Kid” Lewis. That is a disservice to this terrific three-time world champion who engaged in an unbelievable 40 bouts (at least — possibly more!) against world champions and Hall of Famers.
Over the course of more than a quarter century and a mind-boggling 342 professional bouts, Jack Britton displayed magnificent ring generalship and the ability to hold his own with and beat some of the greatest lightweights and welterweights ever to lace on the leather.
Born William Breslin in Clinton, New York, the man who would be Britton did not get off to a great start in his pro career, battling in obscurity throughout the Eastern and Midwestern states and hiring and firing a revolving door of ineffective managers until he hooked up with Dan Morgan in 1912 seven years into his pro career.
Morgan reminded his heretofore undisciplined charge that he was supposed to go to bed at night, that being a boxer did not mean one had to knock down as many beers as he did opponents, and that exercise was supposed to happen in gyms not bordellos. He changed the course of Britton’s career and guided him to a match with world welterweight champion Mike Glover on June 22, 1915, in Boston, Massachusetts. Already a veteran of over 200 prize fights, Britton won a 12-round decision in front of Glover’s hometown crowd to take the title seven years into his career.
Britton was one of the great practitioners of boxing technique of his generation, a slick, quick-moving thinker who often outwitted and set traps for his opponents. The fact that he was only knocked out once in 342 bouts speaks to his supreme defensive skills. He was not, however, a hard puncher, scoring knockouts in fewer than nine percent of his matches.
Britton and Lewis fought a ridiculous 19 times (some sources purport as many as 28 fights!) between 1915 and 1921, trading the welterweight championship back and forth between each other like their fans traded the cigarette cards that carried their pictures. Theirs was an especially bitter rivalry, both men often refusing to speak to one another or shake hands, and the action in the ring was usually closely and viciously contested. Most of their bouts ended in no-decision results, as rendering official boxing decisions was illegal in several states at the time. But of the eight that did produce a true result, Britton was victorious in four, Lewis won three, and one was a draw. Britton scored the only knockout victory of the three, finishing off Lewis in the ninth round of their March 17, 1919 battle in the Canton Auditorium in Ohio to regain the championship a second time at age 33.
In arguably his most memorable bout, Jack defended the championship against Leonard on June 13, 1922, in New York’s Velodrome before 18,000 spectators. Leonard, today considered by many the greatest lightweight that ever lived, had the upper hand in the fight when he dropped Britton in the thirteenth round. But Leonard hit the champion while he was down and was disqualified, giving Britton his last successful defense of the championship.
At age 37, Jack lost the championship less than five months later in New York’s Madison Square Garden to another of the sport’s true legends in the awesome slugger Mickey Walker, who was 15 years his junior. Though he never got another shot at a championship, Britton fought on until age 44 due to financial troubles, not retiring in 1930. In later life, he became a trainer in New York City.
"What a shame that Jack Britton is virtually forgotten today...Boxing fans just think about this amazing fact, in about 344 bouts or more, Jack Britton was stopped just ONCE...Britton fought the best welters of his time in a 26 year career, relying on great boxing skills and acumen. He couldn't punch hard, making almost all his fights going the full distance...As there are no available films of him, I envision a much better version of the master boxer Billy Graham, of the 1940s, who I saw fight often." - Burt Bienstock
Jack Britton was by all accounts, a defensive wizard as well, it's a shame we have zero footage of him, he is a legend. We have footage of most of his peers, but nothing of him. Jack Britton is pictured on the left in both of these photos.
It's fascinating, Ernest Hemingway was a huge boxing fan and Jack Britton was a major inspiration for some of his writings on boxing. Specifically, Britton and his fights are connected to these Hemingway works:
"Fifty Grand": This short story is based on the famous welterweight title fight between Britton and Mickey Walker in 1922. The fictional main character, Jack Brennan, is also modeled in part on Britton.
A deleted passage: An earlier draft of "Fifty Grand" featured a direct anecdote about a fight between Britton and boxer Benny Leonard. Hemingway removed this at the suggestion of his editor, F. Scott Fitzgerald, who found the incident too well-known. However, Hemingway later regretted his humility in following that advice.
The Killers": Some historians also believe that the boxer targeted in the story "The Killers" is likely based on Britton's opponent Benny Leonard.
On final say about "The Boxing Marvel, the brilliant boxing analyst Matt McGrain made al list of the top 50 welterweights of all-time, he ranked Britton at number 3. Matt McGrain on Jack Britton:
03 – Jack Britton (103-29-20; 137-28-22)
Of the men to make the top ten, Jack Britton is the only one of whom I have seen no footage. I'm sad about that. Britton was likely one of the greatest defensive fighters in history.
Having fought in around 350 contest (that we know of) and having been stopped only once (in an early fight), his chin is confirmed both as granite and hard to reach; having knocked out only one in ten of his recorded opponents, he was also almost entirely without power. Think, for a moment, of the level of skill necessary to become the single greatest welterweight of your generation despite boxing to a schedule that would have pricked Harry Greb's ears over the course of no fewer than four decades and doing it all without a power punch and you begin to understand the absolute wonder that was Britton.
I once wrote that it is impossible to provide even a cursory explanation of Britton's career on the internet and that if ever a fighter needed a really good book, it is him. In truth, even surmising his drawn out series with Ted “Kid” Lewis, his mortal enemy and a man he repeatedly fought in contesting the welterweight championship, is impossible. The details of these contests, so numerous and closely contested are too numerous to account here, so, in summary: he won. He won numerically but he also staged an almost impossible moral and literal victory. Champions boxing in the teens of the last century could make a vanquished opponent wait as long as they liked for a rematch with usually the market determining if a defeated foe was in line for another crack. Britton, who claimed the title after his defeat of Mike Glover, had been beaten by Lewis for the title. The fledgling American Boxing Association was flexing its newfound muscle, however, and Britton found himself back in the ring with his mortal enemy, this time boxing a draw. He then defeated Lewis in a six-round non-title fight earning him, in the early part of 1919, a re-match for the title.
But there was a complication. Lewis, in keeping with his era, met Britton in a No Decision bout, a bout where no scorecards were rendered and no judges were present, outside of the newspapermen who would often declare a winner in print in their paper's next edition. The only way for the title to pass on to the challenger was for him to knock the champion out. Given Lewis's iron mandible and Britton's lack of power this seemed impossible.
So Britton did the impossible. He stopped Lewis in the ninth round of a scheduled ten, fighting with uncommon spite, dropping Lewis repeatedly before ripping the title from him. He never lost to Lewis again, running away with their series in repeated defeats of his nemesis.
There is so much more to Britton than Lewis but Lewis did define him. Winning the greatest series in boxing history, despite the hyena hounding him for his title, scrapes him past Napoles and into the top three.
“Hurricane” Tommy Jackson was bullied as a youngster, entered adulthood unable to read or write, and remains underrated by boxing historians — largely because of his 1956 defeat to former sparring partner Floyd Patterson in a bid for the world heavyweight title.
His life and career were far from happy, yet Jackson was a rugged, relentless heavyweight who claimed several notable scalps during the 1950s.
He twice beat the fading Rex Layne in the middle of the decade, ended the career of Clarence Henry, outpointed Dan Bucceroni, and notched two wins apiece over Bob Baker and a shopworn Ezzard Charles. There were setbacks, too: Jimmy Slade edged their trilogy 2–1, while Nino Valdes demolished him in two rounds to end any hopes of a shot at Rocky Marciano. Following his second defeat to Patterson (this time via stoppage), Jackson was dismantled by the slick Eddie Machen and pulled out on his stool after 10 rounds.
He was known to enjoy a drink – even turning up for one bout with a blazing hangover – but despite his erratic technique, Jackson's awkward, unorthodox style made him a nightmare to figure out.
What he lacked in finesse, he made up for in sheer durability. He was easy to hit, but his breakneck work rate and relentless pressure posed serious problems for all but the very best conditioned fighters.
The late New York Times columnist Red Smith described his style this way:
"Hurricane Jackson fights like a swarm of gnats, a cloud of mosquitos, a visitation of wasps. He doesn't knock people out. He drives them mad."
While driving his cab in late 1981 Jackson was hit by a car and was critically injured. He died in 1982 in New York City due to his injuries.
Three years ago today, Caleb Plant defeated Anthony Dirrell by KO in round 9 of 12 with a murderous left hook. Earlier in the bout, Dirrell had gotten cocky and taunted Plant by tapping his glove to his right jaw as if to say, "come on, hit me with your best shot." Plant obliged him.
So, I was asked today about which country I think has produced the best fighters in boxing history and I didn't have to think about this question long at all. The answer is Mexico, and it's not even close. Mexico. Julio Cesar Chavez, Salvador Sanchez, Vicente Saldivar, Canelo Alvarez, Marco Antonio Barrera, Oscar De La Hoya, Juan Manuel Marquez, Erik Morales, Jorge Paez, Chiquita Gonzales, Pipino Cuevas, Baby Arizmendi, Chucho Castillo, Ruben Olivares, Carlos Zarate, Ricardo Lopez, Michael Carbajal, Jorge Arce, Raul Macias. Mexico is stacked, and Mexican fighters are the epitome of what it means to be a warrior, there's no quit in them, they'd just as soon die as surrender.
"It was very difficult fighting with only one eye. But I'm Mexican. I will never quit." - "El Terrible" Erik Morales, Four division world champion
Primo Carnera was one of the tallest heavyweight champions in the history of boxing, he stood 6'6", 275 pounds, he was a behemoth of a man. Look at this photo of Jack Sharkey and Primo Carnera at a weigh-in, Sharkey literally has to stand on the scale to reach eye level with Carnera.
Primo was nicknamed "The Ambling Alp" because of his size, big like an Alp mountain, and because he was rather slow or "Ambling" because of his sheer size, it's one of the coolest nicknames in sports history. But Primo could fight, despite his size he was surprisingly mobile with good boxing skills, and he was a big, strong dude, and if he caught you with a good shot, good night. This is a photo of Primo after knocking out Jack Sharkey for the heavyweight title in 1933.
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Not many photos of Ben Villaflor, but the few photos that do exist show his punching power.
This is one of my favorite photos, Ben Villaflor with the mask headgear.
Ben Villaflor holding his jr. Lightweight belt.
"Sit down, son, it's all over" whispered Eddie Futch to Joe Frazier after 14 gruelling rounds against Muhammad Ali in Manila. His fighter may have lost, but Futch's moving moment of compassion was as important as any victory in his celebrated career as one of history's finest trainers.
“I thought, ‘He’s a good father and I want him to see his kids grow up,’ ” Futch later said.
“With Eddie,” said Marc Ratner, executive director of the Nevada State Athletic Commission, “it was always about the fighter. It was never about money.”
The great cornerman died in 2001 at 90 years old.
Futch trained five heavyweight champions: Larry Holmes, Joe Frazier, Riddick Bowe, Michael Spinks and Trevor Berbick. Among his other titleholders were light-heavyweights Bob Foster and Montell Griffin, light-middleweight Mike McCallum, the great multi-weight champ Alexis Arguello, and welterweights Marlon Starling and Don Jordan.
Never forgotten. Rest in peace, Mr Futch.
The sequel that made every fight feel personal. You’d step into the ring as Little Mac again, dodging lightning-fast punches and waiting for that perfect counter to land a knockout.
Each boxer was a cartoon character come to life — from Bald Bull’s charge to Bear Hugger’s belly slams.
The crowd cheers, the announcer’s energy, the punch impact — all pure SNES perfection.
Super Punch-Out!! was fast, flashy, and brutally satisfying.
September 18, 1946, Tami Mauriello goes for it.
Tami Mauriello and the night he staggered the great Joe Louis
by John J. Raspanti
Mauriello was confident. If he could land his right...
As he circled to his left, the underdog likely pondered when would be a good time to throw his vaunted right. If the punch landed, his entire life would change.
The underdog, Stefano “Tami” Mauriello, was 23, the highest-ranking contender for heavyweight championship honors. His chances of winning were considered slim at best. But Mauriello had hope. His right hand could be deadly, causing most of his 49 victims to go to sleep, 11 in succession.
His opponent that night was a legend, winner of 57 of 58 professional fights. His single loss had happened at the same venue 10 years before, in a stunning upset. He avenged it two years later in just over two minutes.
Joe Louis was 33 when Mauriello fought him, and had recently concluded his military service honorably. His first real fight in four years (he had fought close to 100 exhibition bouts while in the U.S. Army) had been a much-anticipated rematch against Billy Conn in 1946. Conn had come within a whisker of winning the title five years before. The sequel was a disappointment. Both fighters had slowed. Louis knocked out Conn in eight.
Despite having polio that affected his legs in childhood, Mauriello, born in New York, made his professional debut at 15, knocking out Gilberto Ramirez Vasquez in the opening stanza. Two years later, he challenged reigning light heavyweight champion Gus Lesnevich. Floored for a nine count in round two, Mauriello battled back, only to lose the fight by split decision.
Lesnevich prevailed again in a rematch less than two months later. Mauriello shook off the losses and, fighting sometimes twice a month, won his next ten bouts.
In 1942, he went to Cleveland to face hometown hero, Jimmy Bivins. The talented Bivins, who held victories over Lesnevich, and future champion, Joey Maxim, (and would defeat future heavyweight champion Ezzard Charles the following year) knocked down Mauriello – winning the fight over 10 hard fought rounds.
Mauriello rebounded by defeating warhorse, Lee Savold, and stopping former title challenger Lou Nova. Nova had him down for a nine count in the opening stanza, but as he was prone to do, Mauriello got up and battled back.
A rematch with Bivins went down in New York in 1943. Prior to the fight, Mauriello friend, Frank Sinatra, sang the national anthem. Just like in their first fight, Bivins floored him early. Mauriello rallied, but ran out of time. Mauriello’s loss “made Frank Sinatra cry” writes Jerry Fitch in his book, Cleveland’s Greatest Fighters of All Time.
A pattern was emerging. Mauriello fought harder after he tasted the canvas. Savold had him down in their second fight, but couldn’t keep him there. Mauriello got up and won the fight.
Twenty fights later, he faced off against the aging Louis. Mauriello weighed 198 pounds, Louis 211.
Everyone and his brother knew Louis could be tagged by right hands. That flaw had been exploited by Max Schmeling in 1936. Louis had tweaked his tendency to drop his left, but openings occasionally did present themselves. But Louis was always dangerous. Mauriello was confident he could land his Sunday punch. Louis was noticeably slower. Mauriello wasn’t awed. He’d go for it.
Less than ten seconds into the first heat, he did just that. He let the right fly. The arc was true. The blow landed—sending Louis stumbling into the ropes. Most of the thirty thousand plus in attendance rose in surprise. Was one of the biggest upsets in boxing history imminent.? Mauriello certainly thought so. He followed Louis into the ropes, going for a knockout.
Louis grabbed Mauriello for perhaps a second, and reacting like a switch had been flipped, fought back furiously. It was as if he said, “OK, that got my attention. Now it’s my turn.” Mauriello landed another right, but Louis shook it off and uncorked a wicked left hook that crumbled Mauriello. The challenger rolled over and took a knee, rising at six. He went back to moving to his left as Louis pursued. A big right to the chin hurt Mauriello. He held on. Louis shook him off.
Seconds later, a wicked combination sent Mauriello to his knees. He rested his head on the ring rope, like a man resigned to his fate. For the first time in his career, he wouldn’t be able to get up.
“I thought I had him,” said Mauriello to AP writer Gayle Talbot as tears rolled down his checks. “I thought I had him, and I grew careless.”
Perhaps, but Mauriello had gone for it, which is always admirable. He’d lose five of his next 18 bouts, and retire at 26.
In 1954, he appears in the classic film, On the Waterfront, starring Marlon Brando as Terry Molloy. Mauriello plays Tillio, who bullies and laughs at the misfortune of others. It’s quite enjoyable when Terry, repulsed by the corruption surrounding him, sends the mouthy Tillio flying with a crisp combination. His acting, as the goonish Tillio is solid, and completely opposite of the real happy-go-lucky and kind-hearted Mauriello.
Mauriello died in 1999. His last years were tough. One can only wonder how often he thought about that night in 1946.
No matter. His right hand shook up the world of a legendary heavyweight champion.
Tami Mauriello was a good fighter, good heavyweight contender in the 1930s and 40s, with great power in his right hand. But Joe Louis is arguably the greatest heavyweight that ever lived, he had ridiculous recuperative powers, and he's the greatest puncher in boxing history, you just couldn't hold Louis back for long. He was ruthless.
Look at this shot that Louis hit Mauriello with, it lifted Mauriello clear off of his feet.
Gosh, this stuff is so fascinating, boxing is such a fascinating sport. Paul "Scrap Iron" Ryan could really bang, 14 straight KOs culminating in a 1 round blowout of top 10 contender Ross Hale for the Britsh/Commonwealth 140lbs titles. He was 1 fight away from a world title shot. Only two of his fights lasted the distance, and he never went beyond eight rounds. 24 of his 28 fights ended within 4 rounds. His fights usually ended with him knocking out his opponent, or getting knocked out himself, regardless, "Scrap Iron" was a fight fan's dream come true, his fights were always action packed.
Paul ‘Scrap Iron’ Ryan brought excitement and a no-nonsense attitude
By Paul Zanon
PAUL ‘SCRAP IRON’ RYAN was pure entertainment value, with dynamite in his fists and an extremely low bulls**t threshold.
At 60 years of age, he still wears his flat cap, an item of clothing that remained glued to his head whenever he strolled out to the sounds of, ‘Any Old Iron?’ However, life for the London knockout artist didn’t start as he had intended.
“I grew up in Limehouse, London, and was there until about 12, then we moved to Hainault and stayed there for about five or six years,” Ryan told Boxing News.
“Then we moved to Hackney where my dad rented the house out that we had, and he bought a pub, which we also lived in. That’s where my life of trouble started.
“I didn’t like school and I basically got in with the wrong crowd. I’m badly dyslexic, but in them days they didn’t know anything about that. The teachers would be explaining things and I didn’t have a clue what they were talking about. I was terrible at English, good at maths, but all the other stuff I just couldn’t do. As a result, I just messed about.”
From flicking the back of fellow students’ ears in class, to bunking lessons, Ryan’s focus started drifting into darkness.
The London-based southpaw explained: “I was 15 when I first went to prison. It was always for stupid stuff like thieving and fighting. In the space of about seven or eight years, I was only outside of prison for about three months.
“I’d be let out, get nicked, go back in, and get let out. Again and again and again. I was either thieving someone or having a fight with someone. That was my life.”
While serving time, Ryan fell victim to a broken arm, which for a future professional boxer wasn’t ideal, as he would never be able to fully extend it.
“I got let out of Chelmsford and, a week later, I was back in there again,” he recalled. “When I walked in, this screw said, ‘look who’s back. It didn’t take you long!’ I just said, ‘don’t talk to me like that.’ He then grabbed me, so I nutted him.
“It all kicked off, and next thing I knew, there were about eight or nine screws on me. I don’t even remember the moment when my arm got broken.”
Thankfully, a switch of mindset put Ryan onto a more positive and productive path.
“I started watching boxing when Barry McGuigan had just won the world title in 1985,” Ryan said. “I was out for a little while from Chelmsford at the time, but went back in soon after.
“When I saw [McGuigan] in that ring, I loved it, but I didn’t do anything about it because I didn’t know where to go in terms of boxing clubs and all that, and shortly after I was back in the nick anyway.
“My last stretch was in Chelmsford prison. I was there for about 18 months and was let out in my early twenties, thinking to myself, ‘I don’t want any more of this.’ I knew I had to do something different with my life, and that’s when I decided to try boxing.
“I went to Repton Boxing Club when I was about 25 and spoke with the bloke who was running it and said, ‘I’m a bit old now, don’t you think?’ He said, ‘come back tomorrow and there will be people your own age.’ I went back the next night and it was the juniors.
“I thought he was messing me about, so I walked out of there and went to another club called St Monica’s, which was in Hoxton. I loved it, and never looked back. The club is not there anymore, which is a shame.”
Ryan soon studied the mentality of a boxer, and the commitment needed to succeed.
“I used to run about five and a half miles at a good pace and, at the end of each run, there was a tower block. We used to run right up to the top, which was 21 floors, then I’d try to walk down with wobbly legs, holding onto the railing in case my legs gave way!”
The training paid off and Ryan launched himself into a short, yet fruitful, amateur career.
“I had 18 amateur fights and won 16,” he claimed. “I won the London ABA’s and got to the semi-finals of the nationals.”
Ryan had no intention of turning professional, however, a bit of encouragement from British training legend, Howard Rainey, soon changed his mind.
“I went down to his gym, training, and was an amateur at the time,” he said. “Howard said to me, ‘you’d make a good pro,’ and I said, ‘pro?’ I didn’t have a clue what pro boxing was back then, but I had a think about it and decided to give it a go.
“That was that. It was actually him that gave me the nickname ‘Scrap Iron.’ We got on like a house on fire, me and him. He was a great trainer and a brilliant human being.”
Ryan’s pro debut was on 26 September 1991 against fellow debutant Chris Mylan at the Queensway Hall, Dunstable. He recalled. “I remember it like it was yesterday. He was a tough boy and took me all the way. I hit him with everything and I mean everything and he didn’t go nowhere. I was trying to knock him out and kept hitting him and hitting him, but he wouldn’t go down. He was like a brick.”
Ryan’s next fight was on the undercard of Colin McMillan at the Royal Albert Hall, which he fondly remembers.
“I was blown away by it all,” he gleamed. “Even now, I enjoy telling my sons about that fight at the Albert Hall. Getting my first stoppage [in the fourth round against Alex Sterling] at somewhere like that was something else. I can still hear the crowd cheering and clapping.”
1995 was an action-packed year for Ryan. After clocking up three stoppage wins and extending his record to 18-0, he took on tough hombre Oscar Palamino at the Albert Hall in his first title fight for the WBO Inter-Continental super-lightweight strap. Palamino was 15-2 and had never been stopped.
“Now, that was a nice fight,” recalled Ryan. “All that fear stuff – I didn’t have any of that. I was always scared of getting beat, because I didn’t want to get beat. I wasn’t scared of an opponent or being hurt by them. Never. I had a mad way of thinking. When I saw blood, I had to go in for the kill. I went nuts and went in with the big shots. Palamino was a tough bastard. I hit him with loads of big shots, but he also caught me with loads. I stopped him in the end, but it could have gone the other way.”
It’s worth noting that Palamino had back-to-back European title fights straight after the Ryan defeat, and also went on to become the Spanish lightweight champion.
On December 9, 1995, Ryan took on Ross Hale for the British and Commonwealth super-lightweight straps. Hale was the reigning champion since 1994, and had won the Lonsdale Belt outright. In 27 fights, he’d only lost one, however Ryan was unbeaten in 21 fights, with only two of them going the distance. Surely ‘Scrap Iron’ fancied the challenge?
“Believe it or not, I wasn’t confident at all,” he admitted. “I knew there was a possibility that, if he hit me, I’d go, but I kept telling myself that it wouldn’t happen. I fought him like all the others I fought. I went straight for him from the first round and, fortunately, he went down. I had a pretty good punch.”
Ryan certainly did have the firepower to back up his talk. He stopped Hale in two minutes and 12 seconds of the first round.
Three months later, last-minute substitute Jon Thaxton stepped in at the York Hall, possessing a record of 10-3. Unfortunately, Ryan was stopped in the opening stanza.
“I was absolutely gutted,” he said. “It still kills me thinking about that fight. The bell went and it was going the same as all the other [fights]. I’d just caught him with a big shot and he went on the ropes, came off, and caught me right on the chin. I was sparko. I can’t say I didn’t prepare for that fight. Absolutely not. I got ready for him like it was a world title fight. In fact, I fought every fight like it was a world title fight.”
Thankfully, the titles were not on the line against Thaxton, but they certainly were against Merseyside’s Andy Holligan five months later, once again at York Hall. Holligan had been stopped in three rounds by Ross Hale in 1994, which consequently made Ryan the betting favourite. Ryan shook his head as he recalled that night.
“Listen,” he said. “The Thaxton fight, yep, I was sparko, I couldn’t fight on, but the Holligan fight, nah. That fight should have never been stopped in a million years. He caught me with an absolutely nothing shot on the side of the head, I went down, I got up and the ref stopped it. I was fine to go on, but the fight was over. That’s boxing for ya.”
Nine months later, Ryan was back in the ring at welterweight and, over the next three months, from April to July 1997, he clocked up three stoppage wins. On September 13, 1997, Ryan had his last fight against Geoff McCreesh for his British welterweight title.
Recalling his swansong, Ryan said: “He was a tough boy, Geoff. I truly believed I was going to win it, but that night he came on to me, hit me, and kept throwing punches when he thought he had me hurt. He stopped me before I could fire back. After that fight, I’d had enough and knew that I was getting on. I didn’t want to get beat anymore and, after that last loss, I knew that I couldn’t take a punch as well as I used to.”
Ryan finished his career with three losses and 25 victories, which included an incredible 92% stoppage ratio. Surely Paul ‘Scrap Iron’ Ryan would have been a fan-favourite in Saudi Arabia? Ryan laughed, before saying, “Big time! I’ve been there about five or six times and love it. I would have absolutely loved to have fought out there, but it’s a bit late now!”
Not many photos of Paul Ryan available, here are a couple. Ryan KO's Ross Hale in 1 round for the British/Commonwealth titles.
Paul Ryan with the British/Commonwealth titles.
Ingemar Johansson lies unconscious on the canvas as Floyd Patterson is mobbed by his jubilant cornermen at the Polo Grounds in New York in 1960.
Patterson avenged his 1959 upset defeat to the Swede and became the first boxer to ever regain the heavyweight championship of the world when he knocked "Ingo" out in round five. It had been a competitive and crowd-pleasing brawl before Patterson crashed home a vicious, leaping left hook that instantly rendered Johansson unconscious; he would lie on the canvas for five full minutes before he could be revived.
The Ring awarded the battle its Fight of the Year award, while Patterson would be declared Fighter of the Year. A third Patterson vs Johansson clash in 1961 saw Floyd and Ingemar trade knockdowns before Patterson won by KO in round six.
"Little Apache" Charles Ledoux, bantamweight contender from Pougues-les-Eaux, France who fought from 1909 to 1926. Murderous puncher, he iced 80 opponents during his career.
Love this. A statue honoring one of Britain’s most beloved boxing legends, Ricky “The Hitman” Hatton, has been unveiled in Manchester, the city where his incredible journey from a local hero to a global boxing superstar began.
Hatton’s career remains a golden chapter in British boxing history — a fighter defined by relentless aggression, fearless determination, and an unbreakable bond with his passionate fans. From his unforgettable nights at the Manchester Arena to his world title triumphs, Hatton embodied the fighting spirit of the working class and became a symbol of pride for millions.
This statue immortalizes not just his achievements in the ring, but his enduring legacy as a champion who gave everything for the sport and his supporters.
Ricky Hatton’s story is one of heart, humility, and heroism. His statue now stands as a timeless reminder that true greatness is not only measured by titles won, but by the love and respect earned from the people.
Love this shot with the birds perched on his shoulders. It's the perfect image of Hatton, with his arms and mouth open, yelling out in joy after he stopped Jose Luis Castillo with a brutal body shot in 2007.
Dave Tiberi, born on September 12, 1966, in New Castle, Delaware, was a middleweight boxer who left an indelible mark on the sport despite a relatively short professional career. At 5'11" with a 72.4-inch reach, Tiberi's orthodox stance and solid chin would become his trademark in the ring. He began his professional journey on July 24, 1985, at the age of 18, securing a unanimous decision victory over Mike Jefferson in a four-round bout in Atlantic City.
Throughout his career, Tiberi steadily climbed the ranks, amassing an impressive record of 22 wins, 2 losses, and 2 draws. His most notable fight came on February 8, 1992, when he challenged the undefeated James Toney for the IBF World Middleweight title at the Trump Taj Mahal in Atlantic City. This bout would be the pinnacle of Tiberi's career and his last professional fight, ending in a controversial split decision loss that many observers believed Tiberi had won.
The Toney-Tiberi fight remains one of boxing's most contentious decisions. Tiberi, a significant underdog, employed a pressure-heavy strategy devised by his trainer, Marty Feldman and honed through sparring sessions with future Hall of Famer Bernard Hopkins. Despite being rocked in the first round, Tiberi's chin held up, and he continued to push forward, seemingly outworking Toney for much of the fight. The controversial nature of the decision led to a Senate investigation, which revealed irregularities in the judging process, including the use of unlicensed judges.
Tiberi's career was marked by his willingness to face tough competition. He had previously turned down fights with ageing legends Sugar Ray Leonard and Roberto Durán, believing the Toney fight was coming at the perfect time in his career. His training camps were notable for their quality, often featuring world-class sparring partners like Bernard Hopkins, Prince Charles Williams, and Steve Little.
Following his retirement from boxing, Tiberi transitioned into the business world, founding a successful security system company. He briefly returned to the sport as a promoter in Delaware, organizing shows at Dover Downs before deciding to focus on his primary business. Tiberi's final professional record stands at 22 wins (8 by knockout), 3 losses, and 2 draws.
Today, Dave Tiberi is remembered not just for his controversial fight with James Toney but also for his dedication to the sport, his tactical acumen in the ring, and his ability to compete at the highest level of middleweight boxing during the early 1990s. Though his career was shorter than some, it left a lasting impact on the boxing world and continues to be a topic of discussion among fight fans and historians alike.
"The Wee Man" Walter McGowan was a Scottish boxer born in Hamilton, South Lanarkshire. He was known for having been lineal world flyweight champion. He was a skillful boxer, who showed brilliant footwork and knew how to use the ring. However, he suffered throughout his career with cuts, often having fights stopped despite being ahead on points. Without this failing, he would have had an even more successful career. He was the son of Thomas McGowan, a miner who boxed professionally under the name of Joe Gans in tribute to the great American fighter of that name. At their home in Hamilton, his father taught young Walter the basics of the noble art, and it was soon clear that the diminutive McGowan – he was just over 5"2' at his tallest and his usual fighting weight was just over 8 stone – was a boxer of the highest class.
As an amateur, he enjoyed an outstanding career, losing just two of 124 bouts and winning the ABA flyweight title in 1961. Turning professional under his father’s management, McGowan’s strict training regime included cold baths and daily five mile runs.
Such was his prowess that he was matched against Edinburgh’s Jackie Brown for the Scottish flyweight championship in only his third paid fight. Brown won on points, but McGowan gained revenge two years later when he defeated Brown, by then the British and Commonwealth champion, to gain a Lonsdale Belt.
McGowan knocked Brown out in the tenth round of the fight at Paisley Ice Rink and was soon awarded the Belt outright, there being no other British challenger good enough to face him. In April 1964, McGowan took on Salvatore Burruni of Italy for the European flyweight title, losing on points in Rome. Burruni went on to win the world title, and in the rematch at the Empire Pool, Wembley, in April 1966, McGowan gave Burruni a masterclass in boxing skills to win the WBC championship aged 23, for which he was awarded the MBE. McGowan had one great weakness, and that was a tendency to cut easily. His next opponent, Alan Rudkin of Liverpool, tried to aim for the scar tissue around McGowan’s face, but was completely outboxed as McGowan took Rudkin’s British and Commonwealth bantamweight titles. A terrible cut to his nose saw McGowan lose his world title in Thailand in his first defence against Chartchai Chionoi, and it was more cuts which stopped McGowan in the rematch in September,1967. After he lost his British and Commonwealth titles to Rudkin, McGowan fought on until 1969, when he retired with a record of 32 wins, seven losses and a draw.
Peter Harrison, father and coach of former world featherweight champion Scott, said, “Boxing as an amateur in the 1960s, Walter was my hero. He had such fantastic skills.
Walter McGowan cut easily, but he was a Gladiator.
It was on June 14, 1966, when Walter McGowan, well ahead by the seventh round of his world WBC flyweight title clash against Salvatore Barruni, sustained a gashed eye of sufficent severity to warrant the close inspection of English referee, Harry Gibbs. But McGowan shrugged off the handicap to box, as one ringside ring critic put it "like a little master. Using his speed, jabbing in clusters and bringing the right hand home." These were the boxing skills which brought him victory and Scotland her fourth world flyweight champion.
The legendary lightweight Ken Buchanan was good friends and sparring partners with McGowan:
'The wee man was only 5ft 3in but, in terms of his heart, he was a giant,’ said Buchanan. ‘He was also an articulate guy and his only flaw was that the skin around his eyes wasn’t thick enough, so he had a tendency to cut — that was the only thing that held him back. I used to spar with him when I was a youngster. I’d travel through from Edinburgh to his dad’s gym in Hamilton and I learned a lot from Walter.
‘He could counter-punch before you’d even thrown your punch!
‘Any time I hit him I’d apologise because you knew there was going to be more coming back at you. He was a lovely man, though, always willing to pass on advice to younger fighters like myself.
Walter had a terrific left hook and he’d hit you with uppercuts and leave you wondering where those punches had come from.
‘But his most important weapon was his jab. He could keep you off balance all night with it and that was the foundation for everything else.
‘He was brave, too. He never ducked anyone, although the opposite isn’t true.
‘Walter was also a gentleman outside the ring. I’m not ashamed to say that I loved the man.’
Boxing promoter and manager Alex Morrison became a friend and confidant of McGowan’s, and had no hesitation in describing him as the greatest Scottish fighter of them all.
‘Pound for pound, I believe that Walter was the finest boxer ever to come out of this country,’ he said.
‘He had everything — his skills were amazing and he was so fast that opponents often couldn’t see the punches coming.
‘There weren’t enough flyweights around at the time but Walter didn’t let that bother him — he’d take on bantamweights, even though they were bigger and heavier.'
Walter McGowan was a brilliant pure technical boxer, boxing 101 right here.
Vernon Forrest pulled off a stunning upset in 2002, winning a unanimous, overwhelming decision over the man generally considered the best pound-for-pound fighter in the world at the time – Sugar Shane Mosley.
Forrest knocked him down twice, battered him from ring post to ring post and blasted away at his body in front of a shocked crowd of 5,323 at Madison Square Garden.
“If he is the best boxer in the world,” Forrest said, “the Michael Jordan of basketball, and I beat him, does that make me the Michael Jordan of basketball?”
Forrest won the WBC welterweight title that Mosley had won from Oscar De La Hoya in June 2000.
Prime Vernon Forrest was no joke, one of the greatest technicians of all-time. He was nicknamed "The Viper" because of the speed of his punches and his impressive hand speed, which allowed him to throw fast, eye-catching combinations. The nickname reflected his quick and dangerous style in the boxing ring. This is a sick poster of Vernon Forrest with Viper snake boxing gloves on.
Obscure bad a$$ time. Australian power puncher Elley Bennett.
Following the theme of tragic men, with gold in their gloves, and a life missing the sparkle, Elley Bennett is another who fits the picture.
Aboriginal KO machine, Elley Bennett was born at Pialba, QLD April 3, 1924. Just a year before his hero, Ron Richards had his first tent fight. Elley grew up with dreams of emulating the career of Ron, and in many ways, both careers were the same. The final result in life, a definate draw.
As a child, he tried his hand at any work available for an Aboriginal boy. Typically, all involved manual labour, bullock driving and cane cutting being a standard bread winner.
After a fruitless earlt attempt in the punch-for-pay arena, Elley finally struck some success, and via Stan McBride, was enticed to Brisbane to train under the eye of Snowy Hill, formerly a Qld champ. With three quick KO's in '46 Snowy was certain Elley Bennett was a force to be reckoned with, a potential champion. Snowy also felt the effects of Elley's punching power, suffering a single body blow in training, which left the trainer with breathing difficulties for months.
In 1947 after a string of KO's, Elley battled Val Newman for the Qld Bantamweight title, a mere formailty for Bennett, and the beginning of what should appear the road to greatness.
In April, 1948, Elley toppled National Bantam Champ Mick Francis in 3 rounds. The same Mick Francis was a KO machine himself, defending his crown 4 times via the KO route, before relinquishing the title, and sailing to England. Sadly for Mick, upon return to our shores, he again was appointed champ, and sent to neverland via the iron fists of Elley.
For Bennett, the world was almost upon him, boxing well before dispensing Philipino Little Paras, sending Emile Famechon to bed early twice, as well as Emile's countryman, Jean Jouas. By the time Elley had his first Sydney appearence, he was already rated the worlds #7 Bantam. For this particular fight, Cecil Schoomaker had the misfortune of having a 3-1 betting favour for himself. Cecil was a schooled boxer, evasive and sharp. Looking the googs for the first half of the fight, Cecil become careless, Elley tagged him in the 6th round, and Cecil never heard the count.
Come 1950, Bennett again faced the biggest names in contention. Firstly, Ernesto Aquilar, the man who'd been the distance of 15 rounds with brilliant Carloz Ortiz a few years prior. This time, Bennett lost on points over 12 rounds. Former champ, Harold dade was another foe for Bennett, who would lose again via the points route.
Settling back, and facing Ray 'Mustard' Coleman, a tough guy with 100 fights to his name, for the national Feather crown, Elley had lost the fight in all eyes after 14 rounds. For Elley, a one punch KO artist, time was nigh..... a two punch combo send Coleman into dreamland, and the Feather crown was the reward.
At the time, a skinny southpaw was making noise throughout the country in the Bantam division. Never one to train religiously, having to boil down to make the weight, took its toll on Elley, and the 'skinny' southpaw took the points over 15 rounds... the following year, the same 'skinny' southpaw took the World Bantamweight title from Vic Toweel.. KO1. This or course, was our first recognised World Champ, Jimmy Carruthers.
Elley returned to meet Ray Coleman again, in defence of the feather title, again KO15 was the result, although, the police ordered the fight to cease...Next defence was the same result against gentleman 'Bluey' Wilkins, this time without police intervention. . Bluey had the misfortune of meeting Bennett 5 times in his career, including a 9th round KO victory over a drained Bennet, whilst Ray Coleman lasted the distance with Jimmy Carruthers.
In 1954, the battles against the weight had taken its toll, relinguishing his Australian Featherweight Title. For Elley Bennett, a career tally of 44 wins (40KO's) against 11 losses, his standing in the record books is limited. Suggestions of a World Title shot against Vic Toweel had circulated... the dissapointing colour-bar had aparently been raised, ensuring Toweel a painless defence against Carruthers, painless due to the fact Vic was rendered useless after the first punch.
For Bennett, the pains had just begun. Have made a small fortune, and hitting the bottle, he still followed his dream of buying a fishing trawler, the venture failed dramatically. Legend has it, he deliberately sunk the boat, quicker than a bottle, and continued the booze with terrible effect.
Nothing went well for Elley, his own son was sentence to life in prison, and Elley, having been locked up for drunkeness over 50 times, was to meet his death in Bundaberg, 1981. Trevor King, a former oponent mentioned his last meeting, "I'll never forget it, there was this pathetic little man, his mind all jumbled and dribbling at the mouth. When they let me in to see him, he put his arms around me and cried like a little baby"
The greats who knew Elley Bennett, always spoke of him with a great mixture of emotion, admiration and regret. Those who experienced his power, spoke of the same man who 'The Ring' magazine rated as the P4P hardest puncher of the era.
Elley Bennett is still considered by many, as the Hardest puncher in the history of the game... and those who suggest it, are those who felt his sting... even though Elley would be smiling at the same time.
For Elley Bennett, he managed to emulate the same as Ron Richards, sadly, the greatest comparison is post career.
Unfortunately no film exists of Elley Bennett, but we do have a few good photos. This is Bennett on the cover of Australian Ring Digest magazine.
Elley Bennett showcasing his hard hitting power.
Some photos of Elley Bennett training.
Elley Bennett with his trainer Snowy Hill.
Elley Bennett, murderous puncher.
Another obscure bad a$$, Johnny Verderosa, lightweight contender who fought between 1979-1984 amassing a record of 27-3 including a victory over Sean O'Grady. Nicknamed "The Heat", Verderosa won the USBA lightweight title in March, 1981. The Heat made his big debut in a showdown with fellow unbeaten Robert Mullins for the vacant USBA super featherweight title. First, he ruined Mullins during the pre-fight staredown using the biggest and most vacuous gray eyes and slack jawed gape. This weirdest of stares sent the message, "Who are you, and what are we doing here?" To look into those eyes was to see chaos, and glimpse the mind of a crazy person. When the bell rang, Mullins tore after him in a panicked attack, leaving himself wide open for a counter right which put poor Mullins to sleep in 28 seconds. Johnny would enter the ring dancing to the AC/DC he had playing for announcing his arrival on the public address system. Early in his career, he owned and operated an arcade which he ditched as his career picked up momentum and recognition. He never lost his USBA SFW belt. Nicky Perez, Louis "The Syrian" Hubela, Julio Valdez and Enrique Solis make for some fine scalps on his record, and recovering from the beating Boza Edwards leveled on him, he did well to recover within a year to retire O'Grady in four. The Bubblegum Bomber Sean O'Grady started out superbly, with sharp and slashing combinations. Johnny just tank rolled through and under Sean's attack, then it became apparent who had the superior strength, chin and firepower. O'Grady was finished when it became apparent that he couldn't go toe-to-toe with the smaller and older Verderosa. One thing's for certain, Verderosa brought the heat with him to the ring, he was an exciting fighter with brutal knockout power.
Hall of Famer Jack Britton, "The Boxing Marvel", who won the world welterweight title twice in a ring career that spanned twenty-six years, was born William J. Breslin in Clinton, NY in 1885. He won the welterweight crown twice and lost it once between 1916 and 1919 against arch rival Ted Kid Lewis. They fought an incredible twenty times covering 222 rounds. The most remarkable rivalry in boxing history. Most of the Britton-Lewis matches were officially no-decision bouts, but in 1916, Britton won a decision over Lewis to take the welterweight title. For the next six years, the two fighters monopolized the championship. Lewis regained it in a twenty-round decision in 1917. In 1919, Britton knocked out Lewis in the ninth round to take it back. Britton remained the champion until 1922.
Britton failed to go the distance only once in 344 bouts, he had one of the greatest chins in the history of the game, he was basically as close to unknockoutable as a fighter comes at a given weight.
“THE BOXING MARVEL”
Today, if a writer or historian brings up Jack Britton’s name at all, it is usually while praising his great Hall of Fame rivals Benny Leonard and Ted “Kid” Lewis. That is a disservice to this terrific three-time world champion who engaged in an unbelievable 40 bouts (at least — possibly more!) against world champions and Hall of Famers.
Over the course of more than a quarter century and a mind-boggling 342 professional bouts, Jack Britton displayed magnificent ring generalship and the ability to hold his own with and beat some of the greatest lightweights and welterweights ever to lace on the leather.
Born William Breslin in Clinton, New York, the man who would be Britton did not get off to a great start in his pro career, battling in obscurity throughout the Eastern and Midwestern states and hiring and firing a revolving door of ineffective managers until he hooked up with Dan Morgan in 1912 seven years into his pro career.
Morgan reminded his heretofore undisciplined charge that he was supposed to go to bed at night, that being a boxer did not mean one had to knock down as many beers as he did opponents, and that exercise was supposed to happen in gyms not bordellos. He changed the course of Britton’s career and guided him to a match with world welterweight champion Mike Glover on June 22, 1915, in Boston, Massachusetts. Already a veteran of over 200 prize fights, Britton won a 12-round decision in front of Glover’s hometown crowd to take the title seven years into his career.
Britton was one of the great practitioners of boxing technique of his generation, a slick, quick-moving thinker who often outwitted and set traps for his opponents. The fact that he was only knocked out once in 342 bouts speaks to his supreme defensive skills. He was not, however, a hard puncher, scoring knockouts in fewer than nine percent of his matches.
Britton and Lewis fought a ridiculous 19 times (some sources purport as many as 28 fights!) between 1915 and 1921, trading the welterweight championship back and forth between each other like their fans traded the cigarette cards that carried their pictures. Theirs was an especially bitter rivalry, both men often refusing to speak to one another or shake hands, and the action in the ring was usually closely and viciously contested. Most of their bouts ended in no-decision results, as rendering official boxing decisions was illegal in several states at the time. But of the eight that did produce a true result, Britton was victorious in four, Lewis won three, and one was a draw. Britton scored the only knockout victory of the three, finishing off Lewis in the ninth round of their March 17, 1919 battle in the Canton Auditorium in Ohio to regain the championship a second time at age 33.
In arguably his most memorable bout, Jack defended the championship against Leonard on June 13, 1922, in New York’s Velodrome before 18,000 spectators. Leonard, today considered by many the greatest lightweight that ever lived, had the upper hand in the fight when he dropped Britton in the thirteenth round. But Leonard hit the champion while he was down and was disqualified, giving Britton his last successful defense of the championship.
At age 37, Jack lost the championship less than five months later in New York’s Madison Square Garden to another of the sport’s true legends in the awesome slugger Mickey Walker, who was 15 years his junior. Though he never got another shot at a championship, Britton fought on until age 44 due to financial troubles, not retiring in 1930. In later life, he became a trainer in New York City.
"What a shame that Jack Britton is virtually forgotten today...Boxing fans just think about this amazing fact, in about 344 bouts or more, Jack Britton was stopped just ONCE...Britton fought the best welters of his time in a 26 year career, relying on great boxing skills and acumen. He couldn't punch hard, making almost all his fights going the full distance...As there are no available films of him, I envision a much better version of the master boxer Billy Graham, of the 1940s, who I saw fight often." - Burt Bienstock
Jack Britton was by all accounts, a defensive wizard as well, it's a shame we have zero footage of him, he is a legend. We have footage of most of his peers, but nothing of him. Jack Britton is pictured on the left in both of these photos.
It's fascinating, Ernest Hemingway was a huge boxing fan and Jack Britton was a major inspiration for some of his writings on boxing. Specifically, Britton and his fights are connected to these Hemingway works:
"Fifty Grand": This short story is based on the famous welterweight title fight between Britton and Mickey Walker in 1922. The fictional main character, Jack Brennan, is also modeled in part on Britton.
A deleted passage: An earlier draft of "Fifty Grand" featured a direct anecdote about a fight between Britton and boxer Benny Leonard. Hemingway removed this at the suggestion of his editor, F. Scott Fitzgerald, who found the incident too well-known. However, Hemingway later regretted his humility in following that advice.
The Killers": Some historians also believe that the boxer targeted in the story "The Killers" is likely based on Britton's opponent Benny Leonard.
A couple more photos of the great Jack Britton.
On final say about "The Boxing Marvel, the brilliant boxing analyst Matt McGrain made al list of the top 50 welterweights of all-time, he ranked Britton at number 3. Matt McGrain on Jack Britton:
03 – Jack Britton (103-29-20; 137-28-22)
Of the men to make the top ten, Jack Britton is the only one of whom I have seen no footage. I'm sad about that. Britton was likely one of the greatest defensive fighters in history.
Having fought in around 350 contest (that we know of) and having been stopped only once (in an early fight), his chin is confirmed both as granite and hard to reach; having knocked out only one in ten of his recorded opponents, he was also almost entirely without power. Think, for a moment, of the level of skill necessary to become the single greatest welterweight of your generation despite boxing to a schedule that would have pricked Harry Greb's ears over the course of no fewer than four decades and doing it all without a power punch and you begin to understand the absolute wonder that was Britton.
I once wrote that it is impossible to provide even a cursory explanation of Britton's career on the internet and that if ever a fighter needed a really good book, it is him. In truth, even surmising his drawn out series with Ted “Kid” Lewis, his mortal enemy and a man he repeatedly fought in contesting the welterweight championship, is impossible. The details of these contests, so numerous and closely contested are too numerous to account here, so, in summary: he won. He won numerically but he also staged an almost impossible moral and literal victory. Champions boxing in the teens of the last century could make a vanquished opponent wait as long as they liked for a rematch with usually the market determining if a defeated foe was in line for another crack. Britton, who claimed the title after his defeat of Mike Glover, had been beaten by Lewis for the title. The fledgling American Boxing Association was flexing its newfound muscle, however, and Britton found himself back in the ring with his mortal enemy, this time boxing a draw. He then defeated Lewis in a six-round non-title fight earning him, in the early part of 1919, a re-match for the title.
But there was a complication. Lewis, in keeping with his era, met Britton in a No Decision bout, a bout where no scorecards were rendered and no judges were present, outside of the newspapermen who would often declare a winner in print in their paper's next edition. The only way for the title to pass on to the challenger was for him to knock the champion out. Given Lewis's iron mandible and Britton's lack of power this seemed impossible.
So Britton did the impossible. He stopped Lewis in the ninth round of a scheduled ten, fighting with uncommon spite, dropping Lewis repeatedly before ripping the title from him. He never lost to Lewis again, running away with their series in repeated defeats of his nemesis.
There is so much more to Britton than Lewis but Lewis did define him. Winning the greatest series in boxing history, despite the hyena hounding him for his title, scrapes him past Napoles and into the top three.
Music break, a classic from the 80s.
“Hurricane” Tommy Jackson was bullied as a youngster, entered adulthood unable to read or write, and remains underrated by boxing historians — largely because of his 1956 defeat to former sparring partner Floyd Patterson in a bid for the world heavyweight title.
His life and career were far from happy, yet Jackson was a rugged, relentless heavyweight who claimed several notable scalps during the 1950s.
He twice beat the fading Rex Layne in the middle of the decade, ended the career of Clarence Henry, outpointed Dan Bucceroni, and notched two wins apiece over Bob Baker and a shopworn Ezzard Charles. There were setbacks, too: Jimmy Slade edged their trilogy 2–1, while Nino Valdes demolished him in two rounds to end any hopes of a shot at Rocky Marciano. Following his second defeat to Patterson (this time via stoppage), Jackson was dismantled by the slick Eddie Machen and pulled out on his stool after 10 rounds.
He was known to enjoy a drink – even turning up for one bout with a blazing hangover – but despite his erratic technique, Jackson's awkward, unorthodox style made him a nightmare to figure out.
What he lacked in finesse, he made up for in sheer durability. He was easy to hit, but his breakneck work rate and relentless pressure posed serious problems for all but the very best conditioned fighters.
The late New York Times columnist Red Smith described his style this way:
"Hurricane Jackson fights like a swarm of gnats, a cloud of mosquitos, a visitation of wasps. He doesn't knock people out. He drives them mad."
While driving his cab in late 1981 Jackson was hit by a car and was critically injured. He died in 1982 in New York City due to his injuries.
He was 50 years old.
This is my favorite image of "Hurricane" Tommy Jackson, great boxing photo.
Three years ago today, Caleb Plant defeated Anthony Dirrell by KO in round 9 of 12 with a murderous left hook. Earlier in the bout, Dirrell had gotten cocky and taunted Plant by tapping his glove to his right jaw as if to say, "come on, hit me with your best shot." Plant obliged him.
So, I was asked today about which country I think has produced the best fighters in boxing history and I didn't have to think about this question long at all. The answer is Mexico, and it's not even close. Mexico. Julio Cesar Chavez, Salvador Sanchez, Vicente Saldivar, Canelo Alvarez, Marco Antonio Barrera, Oscar De La Hoya, Juan Manuel Marquez, Erik Morales, Jorge Paez, Chiquita Gonzales, Pipino Cuevas, Baby Arizmendi, Chucho Castillo, Ruben Olivares, Carlos Zarate, Ricardo Lopez, Michael Carbajal, Jorge Arce, Raul Macias. Mexico is stacked, and Mexican fighters are the epitome of what it means to be a warrior, there's no quit in them, they'd just as soon die as surrender.
"It was very difficult fighting with only one eye. But I'm Mexican. I will never quit." - "El Terrible" Erik Morales, Four division world champion
"The Ambling Alp" Primo Carnera, heavyweight champion in the 1930s, goes after some logs in training.
Primo Carnera was one of the tallest heavyweight champions in the history of boxing, he stood 6'6", 275 pounds, he was a behemoth of a man. Look at this photo of Jack Sharkey and Primo Carnera at a weigh-in, Sharkey literally has to stand on the scale to reach eye level with Carnera.
Primo was nicknamed "The Ambling Alp" because of his size, big like an Alp mountain, and because he was rather slow or "Ambling" because of his sheer size, it's one of the coolest nicknames in sports history. But Primo could fight, despite his size he was surprisingly mobile with good boxing skills, and he was a big, strong dude, and if he caught you with a good shot, good night. This is a photo of Primo after knocking out Jack Sharkey for the heavyweight title in 1933.
Primo with his world heavyweight title.
Excellent book about Primo Carnera.
The great Primo Carnera, absolutely fascinating fighter.