There is no question that the sport of boxing has been in a funk for the past few years.
But the game is far from being “dead,” as some pundits have opined.
Asleep? Yes. Resting? Perhaps. But, dead? Hell no! Especially when the drums have begun to pound loudly for the upcoming multimillion-dollar match between Floyd Mayweather and Manny Pacquiao for the lightweight title.
For some years I have always said, “Boxing must always have a popular heavyweight to lead the parade.” I still adhere to that notion, but after watching Pacquiao strip the bigger Miguel Cotto of his fighting talents in their November '02 fight, I changed the words to say: “And a little guy shall lead them.”
Pacquiao fights like a man who knows all there is to know about boxing. Although he has been well-schooled by Freddie Roach, a trainer in the Ray Arcel, Eddie Futch and Charley Goldman mold, Pac has a natural talent that no one can teach. The little guy is a package of speed, grit and sudden inventive moves not seen since Sugar Ray Robinson and Willie Pep, two of boxing’s all-time greats.
Which brings me back to the days when boxing and baseball were the most popular sports in the country.
Think of names like Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Lefty Grove, Ted Williams. Jack Dempsey, Max Baer, Jim Braddock, Rocky Marciano. Put the ballplayers and boxers together and you have the two most popular sports entry of the ‘20s, ‘30s, ‘40s and arguably the ‘50s.
Now think about where today’s sports rank among fans: (1) pro football, (2) baseball, (3) pro basketball, (4) college football and basketball, (5) tennis, (6) hockey, (7) soccer, (8) a tie between horse racing and boxing.
How did the sport go from the top of the rung to the bottom? The answer lies not only with boxing’s stall but with the sudden rise of pro football and pro basketball. And then there's the man who last made the sport No.1.
He is Mike Tyson, the last of the “you gotta see this guy in the ring” heavyweights.
WHEN HEAVYWEIGHTS RULED
Since John L. Sullivan, the first heavyweight champion who held the title from 1882 till 1892, the aura of King of Boxing was born. Sullivan’s often used phrase was, “I can lick any man in the house.” And for a little while, the hefty braggart could.
King in boxing was used not loosely but with a respect held for actual kings of nations. This may sound a bit grandiose but the doings of heavyweight champions was known throughout the world.
Later in boxing when Dempsey captured the throne, the world knew who the king was even in the far corners of the Earth.
After Sullivan, came James J. Corbett (1892 to 1887), the clever boxer who put the science in boxing.
Then came Bob Fitzsimonms (1897-1889), followed by Jim Jefferies (1899-1905), Marvin Hart (1905-1906) and Tommy Burns (1906 -1908).
Then like a bolt, came a man who changed the color of this once lily-white sport.
Jack Johnson, a black man, hard-hitting puncher and clever boxer, came on the scene. The tall, slender well-built heavyweight threw a wrench into the pure white machinery, thus disturbing the not yet educated. Shamefully, at the time, the country was still infected with unwanted bigotry.
Johnson, in spite of having to endure the heavy burden of constant damning slurs and even death threats, held the heavyweight title for seven years.
The end of his reign came in 1915 when he was matched against the 6-foot-6 giant Jess Willard, out of Kansas.
This has always been a questionable win for Willard and only because of a famous photo showing Johnson laying on the canvas after being knocked down by the 260-pound giant in the 26th round. As Johnson lay stretched out, taking the 10-count, he was seen shading his eyes from the bright Cuban sun.
The photograph of him doing this led fans to believe he was not hurt at all and hinted he might have dumped the fight right there. The candid shot became so famous that fight fans who bet on Johnson used it in an attempt to cancel out their bet.
Willard was not what you’d call a finesse fighter. He was clumsy, slow and threw punches like he was in a street fight. The only thing that made him popular was that he was the “white hope” who had beaten a black and satisfying the bigots.
In time the “dump” talk faded away because there never was any evidence of corruption to the title changing hands.
Willard, the former backwoodsman, now was the king of the world and he proudly wore the crown like royalty. And, indeed he was, holding the bejewled lid for four years.
On July 4, 1919, the big guy signed to defend his title against a young man who already had a reputation of being a killer who never let up on his opponents until lights-out time. The “Black Panther” was his handle and it fit him like the 6-ounce gloves he wore in battle.
That July day in Reno, Nevada, an animalistic Dempsey went at Willard from round 1 and laid such a beating on the giant from Kansas that he left him wanting no more.
For three rounds Dempsey stalked his man while landing steady rights and lefts on the now unguarded chin of Willard.
The mismatch ended in the third, making Dempsey the heavyweight champion.
And, here’s when the sport of boxing gained a greater personality. The man from Manassa, Colo., had all the right stuff that went with being a world hero. He had the looks, always stayed in fine shape and developed a standard and polite way to answer reporters’ questions.
In no time, the new champ catured the mass public. “DEMPSEY! DEMPSEY! DEMPSEY!” were the chants when the new champ walked the streets of New York.
Jack, now a household word in all parts of the world, held the title for seven years and his Waterloo came when he signed to defend against Gene Tunney, a smart-looking Marine who was brought up in downtown New York.
To the surprise of many, Tunney boxed Dempsey’s ears off and now we had another champ who could reach the public. He got everybody interested when it was related that this new champ was no common pug from the fight clubs. This dude could not only outbox everybody but, by golly, he read George Barnard Shaw and William Shakespeare as well.
Thus a a bit of class and a red ribbon was now wrapped around Pugsville.
Tunney, who was only beaten once (by Harry Greb) in his career total of 83 bouts, gave — by popular demand — Dempsey a return bout in the first million-dollar gate.
The famous event took place in Chicago, where the champion retained his title over Dempsey. But not without a strange incident which is still debated today by fistiana purists.
In the seventh round of this 10-round title bout, Dempsey landed a terrific left hook to the jaw and Tunney dropped like he was hit by a mallet.
Seemingly out, Tunney took the count by the referee: One, two, three, four, five ... then, a strange thing happened. The ref stopped counting and turned to Dempsey, who hovered over his foe, and ordered him to go to a neutral corner.
Confusion became a part of the scene when the ref, instead of continuing the count, started from the beginning. He counted from one to nine and by that time Tunney had cleared his head, got up and hung on for the rest of the round.
This, which was now and forever to be known as the “14-count,” has been a bone of contention, leaving Dempsey fans feeling their man was robbed by the referee. Dempsey himself always maintained he had scored a clean knockout.
One summer day, Tunney had worked all afternoon training in the gym with two sparring partners. Being a man of discipline, he was preparing for the next fight his managers were signing him to.
After the hardy workout, Tunney went home, had a good meal and went to bed. When he awoke the next day, he had no memory of working in the gym the day prior.
Because of this confusion to his mind, the heavyweight champion took little time in announcing this stunning decision to retire from the ring, leaving the heavyweight division without a champion. He could not see himself becoming a brain-damaged ex-fighter, so there was no problem with his decision.
With no king for the next two years, the division started elimination bouts that would leave two men to fight for the vacant crown. The finalists were Jack Sharkey from Boston and Germany’s Max Schmeling.
When they met in the ring on June 12, 1932, in New York, an extraordinary thing happened in that bout. In the fourth round, Sharkey, a free-swinging, hard-punching sailor, started a right uppercut that landed below the belt; the German going into a sitting position while yelling, “Foul!”
The referee looked at it as a legitimate complaint and awarded Schmeling the bout on a foul. A big, disappointed crowd favoring Sharkey booed the call, feeling it was robbed of a good show.
Still, the ref raised Schmeling’s hand making him the first heavyweight champion to come out of Germany. This was the first and only time a man won the heavyweight title while on the seat of his pants.
Max was to hold the title for only a short while, because there was that return fight with Sharkey. This time Sharkey beat Schmeling easily in 15 rounds at the famed “Jinx Bowl” in Long Island City.
King Sharkey, now in the lap of luxury with the big purses from the two title bouts and taking in the adulation the world gives a champion, signed to defend his title against Primo Carnera.
This Italian giant was being maneuvered to the title shot by the mob who controlled, and allegedly “fixed,” most of his fights in this country.
The Long Island City Bowl was tagged the Jinx Bowl for this very good reason: Of the five title bouts held there not one champion successfully defended his title.
So in 1933 in this very arena, Sharkey was defending against the manipulated Carnera.
The writers had no problem picking Sharkey, since the gob from Boston already had easily beaten Carnera two years before. Besides, there was no worry about Sharkey dumping — he liked winning too much.
Well, not this time, Sharkey backers. Big Primo unleashed his right uppercut, landing on the chin of Sharkey in the sixth round. It was lights out for Sharkey, and the big Italian was the new heavyweight champion.
Sharkey, of course, always denied any thought of him throwing that fight but for years after, fight people would question the result.
The odd thing about Carnera was that he was the only one who wasn’t aware of the many fights the mob fixed in his favor. Primo was a wonderful guy who was the innocent victim of a handful of mobsters.
Carnera’s reign lasted only one year because the gang pulling the strings felt they had squeezed all the money there was to garner from this affable giant. His next fight was going to be on the level.
Along came Max Baer, a clownish and well-liked boxer who had a right hand with the power of a sledgehammer. Baer became the logical contender to meet Carnera after his stirring knockout over Schmeling, the former champion.
The signing of the fight proved to be a big seller for newspapers and they ballyhooed it for months. Every day the papers ran special stories building up to an eventual tremendous gate.
There was some concern from Carnera bettors that the bout was being held in the Jinx Bowl.
On June 14,1934, the jinx worked once again after Baer gave Carnera the beating of his life, knocking down the giant 11 times before putting him away for good in the 11th.
Now the Clown Prince of Boxing was the new heavyweight king, and he played the part to the hilt. With his likable personality and boyish ways, he was Muhammad Ali before Muhammad Ali.
Carnera was now on his own, continuing to fight for low purses and eventually turned to wrestling, where he earned more money than he had ever seen as a fighter.
You can’t write the story of boxing without bringing in the obvious element, which came in and out and back in again.
To mention names like Frankie Carbo, Frank Costello and Blinky Palermo from Philadelphia is like putting a rubber stamp to who controlled boxing at one time or another.
The mob slowly faded from the scene as major bouts became the thing in the new Madison Square Garden, forever known as “The Mecca of Boxing.” It was a happy time for boxing now, and Baer, with his fun life and harmless antics, was giving it even more glitter.
Baer lost his title after one year when, as an overwhelming favorite, he lost to Jimmy Braddock, a down-and-out pro who had to put his family on home relief for lack of money.
The bout was a clear-cut, 15-round victory for Braddock, who gained the nickname of “Cinderella Man��� because of it. And where do you suppose the bout was held? The Jinx Bowl in Long Island, of course.
Braddock dodged Schmeling, the No.1 contender, to defend the title against the popular Joe Louis, who had been beaten by Schmeling.
This was a money thing with Braddock getting 10% of Louis’ income for the next 10 years.
The promoters had figured that Braddock-Louis would pack them in a lot more than Braddock-Schmeling. In spite of his loss to Schmeling, Louis was still all powerful at the gate. Besides, this was 1937 when Adolf Hitler was already making sounds that threatened a free world. Because of this, Schmeling, the German, was not too popular in our country.
So, this night in Chicago, when the clock struck 12:00, “Cinderella” Braddock found himself atop the pumpkin instead of the gold carriage. He had been knocked out by Louis in the eighth round. T
hus began the long reign of “King” Joe Louis, whose greatest moment was when he avenged his KO loss to Schmeling by knocking the German out in the very first round in 1938.
So vindicating for Louis was this fight that historians later called it the most important sports event of the century.
The fact is that it not only settled an old score for Louis, but Americans took it as U.S.A. besting Germany, which we later did in the big arena during World War II.
Now, you must be getting just how huge and popular the sport of boxing was in its heyday. The glamour and exciting time continued with Louis coming to the end of his wearing of the crown after a glorious career of 70 total bouts and winning 53 by knockout.
The heavyweight division continued to capture the fight fan even after Louis.
In rapid succession came champions Ezzard Charles, a good and very underrated champ. He was follwed by Jersey Joe Walcott, as savvy a boxer with crafty moves as ever entered the ring.
In 1952, a young man out of Brockton, Mass., by the name of Rocky Marciano came along and rocked Walcott out of his shoes with a tremendous right hand to the chin, making him the champ. And here’s where the fight fan was left with that Tunney thing again — a champion retires from the ring, leaving the title vacant once more.
In yet another elimination, young and eager Floyd Patterson emerged the winner of the crown by knocking out the ol’ Mongoose, Archie Moore, no small feat.
After Floyd, came the Swede, Ingemar Johansson, who shocked the sports world with his knockout of Patterson. Ingo didn’t hold it long because a year later, a determined Patterson won back his crown with a devastating left hook that put the Swede out in the fourth round.
Patterson lost his title to the mean-looking Sonny Liston who took only one round to do it. To make sure it wasn’t a fluke, Sonny did it again in the same round a year later.
Here we come to Cassius Clay, a brash, highly visible and loudmouth braggart. The story of Clay then becoming Muhammad Ali is so well-known to this generation that I won’t go into any detail — except to say that this man created an entire boxing history within himself and to this day is revered as the most interesting guy to ever lace a boxing mitt.
Ali lost to Joe Frazier in the greatest of all Madison Square Garden events and their names today are sealed together forever. It’s always, “Ali/Frazier.”
Frazier lost to big George Foreman, then Foreman lost to Ali giving who took it with a whirlwind finish by landing a right that KO’d a tired Foreman.
This was Ali’s greatest hour, in my judgment.
Ali then got careless and lost his crown to Leon Spinks, a man with just eight pro fights under his belt. You might say that Ali merely loaned Spinks the title, because months later Ali took it back.
Muhammad announced his retirement in 1979 but came back in 1980 and foolishly took on Larry Holmes, a fine and steady left-jabbing heavyweight who never got the merit he deserved.
Holmes beat Ali very easily, becoming the heavyweight champion. He was a good one, too.
Michael Spinks, a genuine light-heavy who went to the heavyweight division, beat Holmes out of the title.
Then onto the scene came a short, stocky hunk of muscle and brawn from Brooklyn who was going to make everybody forget the rest of the great ones. He was good and getting better, learning his skills from Cus D’Amato, a teacher of fighters who had developed three champions in all.
The new guy on the block was Mike Tyson, and he was knocking out everybody he faced with his sure and steady punching. And, with his constant moving of his head and body he was being looked at as a boxer-puncher, but puncher first.
When he was ready, Tyson went to Atlantic City to challenge Michael Spinks for the title. Ninety seconds later, Tyson was the undisputed heavyweight champion of the world.
Here, I say, came the end of what the sports world once felt about the importance of boxing as we once knew it.
The story of Tyson and his cyclone-like life and the up-and-down drama he created in his life is well-documented, so again I’ll skip that part of this long saga.
Yes, there have been other champions after Tyson, but they couldn’t sustain the great interest the heavyweights once had.
There was Buster Douglas, Michael Moorer, Riddick Bowe, Evander Holyfield, Lennox Lewis and today the Klitchkos. But none of these had that extra something that would bring back those old days.
I’m not saying it was them exactly, maybe just the times which no longer attracts the game that was once king of sports.
There were other factors that contributed to help kill the importance of the heavyweight champion and it deals with greed of the promoters and others seeking to cash in on the game..
What once was a perfect eight-division sport with just one champion in each became a laughingstock to fight fans when separate groups like the WBC, WBA, IBF, WBO and I don’t know how many other alphabet soups came on the scene.
These particular groups put in their chits to collect what is called “sanction fees” today.
That didn’t help since they created more champions — so many more that the fan was left to guess who was the champion of what division, which, by the way, also grew in number. There we saw the clunkers that would help do in the attraction for boxing.
The sign of the times tell us that today fans are going for this mayhem called Ultimate Fighting. God help us.
Will the heavyweights ever return to past glories, you ask?
I dare tell the truth and say that I very much doubt it. You see, the big, strong, natural athletes who once would venture into a gym with dreams of eventually becoming heavyweight champions, are not to be found anymore.
Those who would be good candidates for the squared circle look at the unheard of salaries football, baseball and basketball players are fetching these days and say to hell with putting on boxing gloves and getting my head banged up with cauliflower ears.
They would rather learn how to throw a good pass, learn the art of hitting a baseball or practice 3-pointers. They reason that they’re not only better careers to follow but the money is better — and you keep it longer.
Fight fans, you want boxing? Watch the little guys.
Source: nydailynews.com
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