by Mike Silver

No other sport has produced more memorable quotes or phrases than boxing. I am not referring to the many clever and colorful (and sometimes outrageous) statements uttered over the years by various boxing personalities. Mike Tyson’s obscene rants (obviously stated when he was off his meds) that included such gems as “I want to eat his children” or “I try to push the (nose) bone into the brain” do not qualify for this list. The winning quotes are those that have withstood the test of time and entered into the American lexicon. The following quotes fit these criteria. They have been used by journalists, politicians and people in all walks of life. Yet how many are aware that they emanate from the world of boxing? I’ve saved the best for last, so counting back from 10 to 1 here they are:

10. “I Shoulda Stood In Bed”—Joe Jacobs (1935)

Joe Jacobs was the prototype of the fast talking cigar chomping fight manager.

Sportswriters loved him as he was always quick with a memorable quote delivered in a staccato New York accent. As described by author David Margolick, Jacobs was “the quintessential Broadway guy, a Damon Runyon character from whom even Damon Runyon, then writing a sports column for the Hearst newspapers, could pick up some pointers.” As a “Broadway guy” Joe invariably slept late but one of the few times he broke

with tradition was when he got out of a sickbed to attend the 1935 World Series between the Tigers and Cubs on a wet cold day in Detroit when the temperature was near freezing. When a reporter asked him about the experience he famously complained, “I shoulda stood in bed”, which is New Yorkese for “stayed in bed”. Shakespeare could not have said it any better.

9. “I’ll Moida Da Bum” – Tony Galento The squat 5’9’ 235 pound New Jerseyite with the sledgehammer left hook was one of the most colorful fighters of any era. “Two Ton” Tony was a crude beer guzzling brawler who often used these words to describe what he would do to a future opponent. He said it most

often when referring to heavyweight champion Joe Louis, who he challenged for the title in 1939. In an unusual fit of pique, Louis, angered by Tony’s incessant pre-fight trash talk, decided to punish him. Galento, a stubborn foe, did his best and even managed to drop Louis in the third round. After taking a short count Louis got up even angrier and battered Galento into a bloody hulk before knocking him out in the next round.

8. “We Wuz Robbed”—Joe Jacobs (1932)

Another gem from the irrepressible Joe Jacobs who regularly butchered the King’s English. He spoke the immortal words after heavyweight champion Max Schmeling (whom he managed) lost a controversial decision to Jack Sharkey.

7. “Only In America”—Don King (1975)

The phrase was appropriated by King in the early 70s. But a more accurate phrasing should be “Only in Boxing”. For only in the unregulated “red light district” of sports could a convicted killer and diabolically clever sociopath run roughshod over an entire sport and bring it down to his level.

6. “The Bigger They Are the Harder They Fall”—Bob Fitzsimmons (1902)

The actual quote is: “The bigger they come the harder they fall.” It has been attributed to former heavyweight champion Robert Fitzsimmons in an interview in 1902, but it probably goes back farther than that. Fitzsimmons (heavyweight champion 1897-99) was one of the hardest punchers of all time. He weighed about 167 pounds in his prime and often beat heavier men, including a 300 pound opponent he flattened in the first round.

5.“Honey, I Forgot to Duck” Jack Dempsey (1926)

President Ronald Reagan was being wheeled into the operating room shortly after taking a bullet in the 1981 assassination attempt on his life. Still conscious, and amazingly maintaining his sense of humor, he looked up at his wife, Nancy, and told her: “Honey, I forgot to duck”. The President was referencing the line Jack Dempsey used to explain his defeat to his wife after he lost the heavyweight championship to Gene Tunney in 1926. Reagan was only 15 years old at the time but the phrase obviously made an impression on the young sports fan and future President of the United States.

4. “We Will Win Because We Are On God’s Side”—Joe Louis (1942)

Heavyweight champion Joe Louis, who had recently enlisted in the still segregated army, spoke these words at a March 1942 War Bond rally in front of 18,000 people in Madison

Square Garden. The great man’s words became a popular slogan and made its way into songs and posters.

3. “He Can Run But He Can’t Hide”—Joe Louis (1946)

Joe’s public comments were as compact and on target as his punches. He could say more in a few words than most people say in 100. On the eve of his rematch with Billy Conn a reporter asked Joe if his lighter and faster opponent’s speed would be a problem. Louis’s answer was prescient. He knocked Conn out in the eighth round.

2. “Float Like a Butterfly, Sting Like a Bee”—Cassius Clay (1963).

He did and he could!

1. “I Coulda Been A Contender”—Marlon Brando (1954)

One of filmdom’s most famous lines. It was spoken by actor Marlon Brando in the classic

movie “On the Waterfront”. The words originated from an actual conversation screenwriter Budd Schulberg had with Roger Donoghue, a once promising welterweight who quit the ring after killing an opponent. Donoghue was hired to instruct Brando how to move and act like a former fighter. When Schulberg asked Donoghue if he could have been a champion, the fighter replied, “I don’t know, but I could have been a contender.”

Boxing historian Mike Silver is the author of The Arc of Boxing: The Rise and Decline of the Sweet Science (McFarland Publishing, paperback 2014).

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BY

MIKE SILVER

A note of thanks to the daughter of Teddy Atlas for convincing her father to get back to doing what he does best—teaching boxers the (lost) art of boxing. Seven weeks ago Atlas took over the training of Timothy Bradley and the results were nothing short of phenomenal. Bradley said it best in a pre-fight interview; “I finally have a real trainer”. Indeed! Bradley’s ninth round stoppage of Brandon Rios this past Saturday night had “old school” written all over it, complements of “old school” trainer Teddy Atlas. Bradley also stated that Atlas’s schooling taught him more about technique and strategy than ever before. Good for him—and good for boxing.

Atlas’s job was not easy. He had a willing student in Bradley but also a fighter who had been worn out in fights where the strategy was simply to outwork the opponent. Bradley had also made the mistake in the past of exercising with heavy weights to increase his strength and punching power. Of course this misguided approach did just the opposite by making him muscle bound and robbing him of his punching power. Bradley’s overdeveloped pecs and lats are very impressive if he was entered into a body building contest but he can barely dent an egg with his feather like punches. Nevertheless, Atlas recognized a desire by Bradley to do whatever was necessary to turn his boxing career around and was willing to work with him and achieve the desired results.

Trainers take note: Watch the tape of the Bradley vs. Rios fight over and over, including especially the instruction given to Bradley between rounds. What a delight to watch a boxer actually attempt to think and avoid punishment by using tried and true methods of the type that had been effective for almost a century but are virtually forgotten today.

Rios could have tried to counter Bradley’s hit and move strategy but he simply had no answers—and neither did his clueless corner men. Rios kept coming straight ahead and made no attempt at all to cut off the ring, or duck Bradley’s counter punches, or throw more jabs in an attempt to disrupt his rhythm. The pitiful instructions (or lack thereof) he received was typical. In between rounds the microphone picked up Rios’s trainers telling him to “throw more punches…throw faster punches” and of course the oft heard expletive laced “what the f…k are you waiting for!….c’mon go for it!” That’s it. No strategic advice was given at any time. Not even at the basest level. Why are such people even allowed into the corner? Why isn’t there some sort of licensing procedure to make sure trainers have at least a minimum of boxing knowledge. It is so disheartening to see how dumbed down this sport has become.

Compare the above to a sampling of Atlas’s instructions to Bradley between rounds: “Control the outside and don’t stay in one place too long…use your jab and move to your left and then move to the right and set something up…catch him as he comes in and don’t drop your hands…move off to the side after landing your jab..” Atlas kept reminding Bradley to “control the geography of the ring” (meaning use footwork). Obviously these basic boxing moves had been practiced over and over throughout their training sessions. Another move involved Bradley stepping to his left after landing a jab and quickly landing a left uppercut to Rios’s midsection. His incessant body punching eventually brought Rios to his knees in the ninth round and he was counted out. (If Bradley had more power this fight would have ended much earlier). It is worth noting that over 50% of Bradley’s punches were aimed at Rios’s mid-section. This was a common practice among the top fighters of decades past but is virtually unheard of today.

Over the past 20 years, for a variety of reasons, (see the author’s book “The Arc of Boxing” for a full explanation) boxing technique has fallen to its lowest level in over 100 years. Defense has become a lost art along with so much else that is missing at virtually every level. That is why Bradley’s new evasive style, mobile footwork, body punches and his effective and intelligent use of the left jab was like a dose of fresh air—at least to those who can recognize such things.
Perhaps I am being overly optimistic, but are we seeing a trend developing here? Last month we saw two rare demonstrations of some old school boxing skills. First flyweight champion Roman “Chocolatito” Gonzalez gave a wonderful display of effective aggression while chalking up his 44^th straight victory. On the same night Gennady Golovkin, the true middleweight champion, showed how effective a left jab can be when used properly to set up power punches and eventually wear down a tough and determined opponent. (see article on this site: “Stop The Presses! Boxer Wins Fight Using Left Jab!”

Years ago these talented boxers would be considered excellent prospects because they would be competing in a much tougher environment, but today their use of solid but basic boxing techniques makes them stand head and shoulders above a very mediocre field of contenders.
Let’s hope that other boxers and trainers begin to understand that boxing is an art—the art of self-defense. This will not only result in more interesting matches but will make a dangerous sport safer. Two boxers moving toward each other like two trucks in a mindless demolition derby is not boxing.

Mike Silver is the author of “The Arc of Boxing: The Rise and Decline of the Sweet Science” (2014, paperback, McFarland Publishers).

The President Boxer

If there ever was an individual with the wherewithal, honesty and courage to clean up professional boxing that man would have been Theodore Roosevelt.

by Mike Silver

No U.S. President, past or present, was more associated with the “sweet science” than Theodore Roosevelt. It was not by accident that T.R. developed his interest in boxing. In Roosevelt’s formative years young men from the best families practiced the manly art. In the late 1800s amateur boxing “in gentlemanly fashion” (fought with gloves under Queensberry rules) was included in the athletic programs of Harvard and Yale. (Both institutions were among a handful of colleges that offered boxing instruction to their students). The future President boxed as a 135 pound lightweight while attending Harvard. He entered several tournaments, and though only moderately successful, his courage and tenacity was admired by his classmates.

During one tournament match he was hit hard by his opponent just after the referee yelled “time”. The crowd hissed and shouted “Foul, foul!” Roosevelt is supposed to have cried out “Hush! He didn’t hear.” Years later, during his campaign for the Presidency, his supporters would frequently reference the incident as an example of his extraordinary character.
In his junior year at Harvard (1879) T.R. fought for the university cup against a senior and was “severely punished” according to the New York Times. The Times often reported on the athletic exploits of Ivy League athletes as these schools were considered incubators for the future economic, social and political leaders of America. His opponent was two or three inches taller and had a much longer reach. “When time was called after the last round,” one spectator recalled, “his face was dashed with blood and he was much winded; but his spirit did not flag, and if there had been another round, he would have gone into it with undiminished determination.”

T.R. was at best a fair boxer and athlete, but he loved boxing, and was a steadfast supporter of the sport as long as it remained free of gambling and corruption. In 1896, while serving as police commissioner of New York City, Roosevelt endorsed a bill that legalized boxing in the state. He believed that under the right circumstances boxing had value as a “vigorous healthful sport that develops courage, keenness of mind, quickness of eye, and a spirit of combativeness that fits every boy who engages in it for the daily tasks that confront him.” But the professional side of the sport remained a problem for him. In 1899, during his term as New York’s Governor, boxing was rocked by a number of major betting scandals and fixed fights. The following year he reluctantly signed a bill outlawing professional prizefighting in New York State. (The ban lasted four years).

Roosevelt’s interest in athletics, and specifically boxing, was the result of a lifelong pursuit of what he called “The Strenuous Life.” TR exercised daily and was constantly challenging himself to do better. His favorite sports were boxing, tennis, hiking, rowing, polo and horseback riding. He greatly admired boxers and formed friendships with John L. Sullivan, Bob Fitzsimmons, Battling Nelson and Mike Donovan. Even while occupying the White House (1901-1909) Roosevelt enjoyed boxing with an array of sparring partners, including former professionals, several times each week. By then the President was a full-fledged heavyweight, weighing around 190 pounds

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During a sparring session with a military aide Roosevelt took a hard punch to his left eye. He gradually lost sight in the damaged orb, but that information was not made public until many years later. Although the injury failed to dampen his enthusiasm for boxing he thereafter confined his physical jousts to practicing judo, attaining a third degree brown belt.

Of all the fighters Roosevelt knew he was closest to Sullivan, who reigned as heavyweight champion from 1882 to 1892. They first met in the mid-1890s when TR was a crusading police commissioner in New York City. Sullivan had retired in 1892 after losing the title to James J. Corbett, but the public’s adulation for “The Great John L.” endured well after his last bout. During that time he earned his living as a professional entertainer and temperance lecturer.

The Patrician Roosevelt and the roughhewn Sullivan, an Irish-American from an urban, working class background, formed a sort of mutual admiration society based on their common interests. They were the same age, and as noted by Sullivan biographer Michael T. Isenberg, “Each worshipped the shrine of masculinity and had, in his different way, been a missionary of the strenuous life; each was his own brass band.”

Roosevelt’s friendship with Sullivan remained strong during and after his Presidency. In later years Sullivan was a frequent guest at Roosevelt’s Sagamore Hill Estate. Both of these fascinating and charismatic individuals were perfect symbols of their era. Energetic, confident, assertive and occasionally reckless their colorful personalities embodied the qualities of a country ascending to greatness at the turn of the last century.

The 25th President of the United States would have made a wonderful boxing commissioner but after his “Rough Rider” campaign in Cuba during the Spanish-American War of 1898 bigger and more important responsibilities awaited him. But if there ever was an individual with the wherewithal, honesty and courage to clean up professional boxing that man would have been Theodore Roosevelt.

Mike Silver is the author of “The Arc of Boxing: The Rise and Decline of the Sweet Science” (McFarland Publishers, paperback 2014).

A WORLD OF PROFESSIONAL AMATEURS            

By Mike Silver

     A few weeks ago I watched an HBO boxing double header featuring two light heavyweight title fights: Sergey Kovalev vs. Eleider Alvarez and Dmitriy Bivol vs. Isaac Chilemba. The bouts confirmed to me that the art of boxing, as I knew it, is dead and unlikely to be revived anytime soon. 

  It’s not so much what I saw but what I didn’t see. As in so many other televised contests the sophisticated boxing skills that were once so common among the top echelon of professional fighters 50 or more years ago are absent from today’s champions and contenders. In the title fights mentioned above less than a dozen body punches were exchanged and there was virtually no infighting. There were no double jabs or combinations and no feints, ducking, parrying, or weaving under punches. Footwork was in two directions—forward and back. Absent was lateral movement or circling an opponent. Other than occasionally stepping back out of range to avoid a punch, defense was limited to the usual gloves in front of the face while standing still and waiting to be hit. No attempt was made to slip a punch and counter. Every round was a repeat of the previous because the fighters did not have the experience, training or ring savvy to know how to change tactics. 

Today the difference between the best amateur boxers and the best professional boxers is negligible.

         With few exceptions the majority of today’s top professional boxers all fight the same way. There is very little variety in their fighting styles. Even several years after turning pro it is basically the same style they used as amateurs. In the past that would have been perceived as a weakness when competing against an experienced professional. Today the difference between the best amateur boxers and the best professional boxers is negligible. And that is why, in boxing’s current culture and climate, it is impossible to produce a world champion who merits comparison to the greatest boxers of the 1920s to the 1970s. 

       One of the sport’s current stars is the former two time Olympic gold medalist (2008 and 2012) Vasyl Lomachenko. This extremely talented boxer won his first title in 2014 in only his third professional fight. Over the next four years he added two more divisional titles to his impressive resume. But we will never know how great Vasyl can become because the talent pool in the lighter weight divisions lacks depth. Where are the great fighters to test him? Answer: there are none.   

     Lomachenko is a rare commodity. He reminds us of the very promising professional prospects who often caught our attention during boxing’s golden age. But even if he had been competing during the last vestiges of that era—the 1960s and 1970s—his rise to the top would not have been as rapid or as easy. And there would be no guarantees he would ever win a title. Despite his amazing amateur record he would not have been ready this early in his career (less than a dozen professional fights in four and a half years) for the likes of Sugar Ramos, Vicente Saldivar, Carlos Ortiz, Nicolino Loche, Roberto Duran or Aaron Pryor.

This used to be known as “stick and move” strategy. It is rarely seen today.

     What makes Lomachenko stand out today is his use of extreme speed of punches combined with rapid and constantly shifting footwork that he uses to confuse and befuddle second rate opponents. This used to be known as “stick and move” strategy. It is rarely seen today. I’m grateful to Lomachenko for reviving it. Hopefully it will catch on. After all, a target swiftly moving to and fro is always more difficult to hit than a stationary one. It is a simple concept that doesn’t seem to have penetrated today’s boxers or their trainers. The best way to neutralize a constantly moving target is to either keep your opponent preoccupied with a busy left jab, make him miss, and then counter, or cut off the ring while applying unrelenting pressure. Luckily for Lomachenko there are no outstanding pressure fighters today in the mold of a prime Manny Pacquiao or Julio Ceasar Chavez. Another was Ray “Boom Boom” Manicini who gave the great Alexis Arguello trouble for 13 rounds. Ray wasn’t ready to take on Arguello but if we were to replace Arguello with Lomachenko I think the result would be a win for “Boom Boom”. 

     Forty years ago another gifted professional, Wilfred Benitez, won the junior welterweight title from the great Antonio Cervantes in his 26^th professional fight. It is the same title Lomachenko won by stopping Jorge Linares in the 10^th round on May 12^th 2018. It was Loma’s 12^th pro fight. Linares had a decent amount of professional experience but at best he is a slightly better than average boxer. Yet by using an effective jab and quick counters he was able to keep the fight even through nine rounds. Now what do you think would happen if we were to replace Linares with a prime Antonio Cervantes or Wilfred Benitez?  

 Perhaps a boxer with as much natural talent as Lomachenko may have adapted if he had come along 50 or more years ago. But it’s impossible to say. In years past there were so many terrific prospects who faltered when it came time to make the leap from great prospect to great boxer. 

     I don’t say this to demean the current crop of world champions. (At last count there were over 100 spread over 17 weight divisions!) The best of them possess an abundance of natural talent, are in excellent physical condition, have extensive amateur experience, and usually put forth a tremendous effort. It is not their fault that after turning pro they do not receive the type of quality training and competition that would have a positive impact in improving their boxing technique. 

A major reason for the lack of refined skills is the shortage of qualified teacher-trainers who understand and can teach the finer points of boxing technique.

     A major reason for the lack of refined skills is the shortage of qualified teacher-trainers who understand and can teach the finer points of boxing technique. Nevertheless, despite these drawbacks, I think it is important to make comparisons between today’s best and those of decades past if only to gain perspective and to inform and enlighten us as to what it truly means to be a great boxer.  

          Among today’s fighters there are a few who are not of the cookie cutter variety. Lomechenko, Terrance Crawford and Gennady Golovkin are in this category. They are pleasing to watch because they are capable of performing at a higher level than the sea of mediocrity that surrounds them. They bring back memories similar to the type of young talent we used to see years ago. Golovkin is the most “old school” of the three. But an accurate appraisal of their current level of overall skill and experience indicates they are not as well rounded and seasoned as the top contenders and champions of boxing’s golden past. Through no fault of their own they will never be tested in the same way the best fighters of the 1920s to 1970s were tested. They will never experience the type of brutal competition their counterparts in decades past had to contend with while trying to hold onto a title or a top ten rating.   

     Let’s return to the four fighters mentioned at the beginning of this article, all of whom are either current or former light heavyweight champions. How would they have fared against the best light heavyweight champions of the 1970s and early 1980s? (Comparisons to golden oldies like Loughran, Rosenbloom, Lewis, Conn, Moore or Johnson are unnecessary because the answer is too obvious). Does anyone who has seen the following boxers actually believe today’s champions could defeat Bob Foster, Mathew Saad Muhammad, Victor Galindez, John Conteh or Michael Spinks? And what about Richie Kates, Jerry “The Bull” Martin, Yacqui Lopez, Eddie Mustafah Muhammed, Jorge Ahumada, Dwight Braxton, Marvin Johnson and Eddie Davis? These 1970s era light heavyweights did not build up their records fighting 2^nd and 3^rd rate opponents, as is the norm today. They did not avoid the hard fights. 

All of the above proved to be tough and seasoned professionals capable of giving any great boxer of the past a competitive fight. Aside from the quality of their training and the seasoning they acquired over the course of their careers these accomplished professionals possessed another very important weapon: psychological toughness. A fighter who could combine that type of resilience with superior boxing skills was very, very tough to beat.   

 Of the four light heavyweights  who headlined the HBO show the best of the lot is Alvarez who won his portion of the title by stopping Kovalev in the seventh round. He did very well considering he hadn’t fought in over a year. (Long layoffs and inactivity is another feature of the current boxing scene). I am impressed by Alvarez but also saddened. He is extremely talented, well-schooled in basic boxing technique and is very determined. Had he been more active (only four fights in the last two years) he could have eclipsed Andre Ward as the star of the division. But at the age of 34 and with only 23 pro fights in 11 years the former amateur champion will never have the opportunity to realize his full potential.   

        Another example of unrealized professional talent is Dmitry Bivol. As a successful amateur boxer he engaged in nearly 300 fights, winning a slew of regional titles before turning pro in 2014. Three years later Dimitry won a portion of the world light heavyweight title in only his 12^th professional fight. As an amateur he performed at the highest level. Using those same amateur skills he has attained great success in a very short time as a pro. Dmitry won’t be required to improve much beyond his current skill level because the line that once separated top amateur boxers from top professional boxers has become blurred. In his most recent bout he won a dreary 12 round decision against a second rate opponent whose purpose was just to survive the 12 rounds and collect his payday. It would be nice if the four current champs were to engage in a tournament to determine who is best—but don’t hold your breath waiting for that to happen.  

     Forty years ago Dmitry Bivol would be labelled a hot prospect and maybe in line for a semi-final in Madison Square Garden. But as good as he is Dmitry would not be ready to challenge a prime Victor Galindez, the reigning world light heavyweight champion. At that time 300 amateur fights and 14 pro wins (88 rounds) didn’t make you ready to challenge an outstanding professional boxer whose record showed over 50 pro bouts and 485 rounds.

That futile effort, and his opponent’s stubborn resistance, appeared to dampen Kovalev’s fighting spirit.

        And what of Kovalev—the once mighty “Krusher”?  Three years ago he put up a stirring but losing effort against a very good Andre Ward. That decision could have just as well gone to Kovalev. It was that close. His return bout with Ward seven months later ended in controversy and left many fans puzzled. Slightly ahead on points “The Krusher” took several borderline shots to the midsection. He reacted by draping himself over the ropes. The referee awarded the tko win to Ward. In his recent bout against Alvarez he was also ahead on points. Kovalev tried hard for a KO in rounds five and six but couldn’t put Alvarez away. That futile effort, and his opponent’s stubborn resistance, appeared to dampen  Kovalev’s fighting spirit. He came out for the seventh round looking tired and discouraged. Carrying his left hand dangerously low and moving slowly Kovalev was knocked down by a solid right cross. 

         What surprised me was that Kovalev, after arising from the first knockdown, did not appear to know what to do.  But a quick review of his record explained why. In nine years Kovalev had fought only 143 professional rounds. Seventeen of his 28 knockout victims never made it past the second round. A seasoned pro in the same situation would have known how to tie up his opponent in a clinch or bob and weave his way out of trouble, or at least make the attempt. Kovalev, used to knocking out inferior opposition, didn’t know what to do when the situation was reversed. He remained an open target and was quickly dropped twice more before the referee stopped the fight.

             If the reader is interested additional information related to the topic of this article is contained in the author’s book, “The Arc of Boxing: The Rise and Decline of the Sweet Science” (McFarland Publishing). It is available on Amazon. 

Mike’s other book is “Stars in the Ring: Jewish Champions in the Golden Age of Boxing”, also available on Amazon.  

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https://youtu.be/PXy3VHC0obY

Marlon Starling Interviewed by Mike Silver for Boxing Over Broadway 

Former welterweight champion Marlon Starling was the fifth boxer from Connecticut to win a world title. Louis “Kid” Kaplan, Pinky Silverberg, Batt Battalino and Willie Pep all won their titles during the golden age of Connecticut boxing from the 1920s to the 1940s. During that time the “Nutmeg State” was home to many other outstanding boxers including Lou Bogash, Ted Lowry, Chico Vejar, Julie Kogon, Johnny Cesario, Vic Cardell, Larry Boardman and Bernie Reynolds.   

     Marlon Starling is far removed from that era, nevertheless he could accurately be described as “old school”. There were few soft touches during his ascent to the title. He accomplished his goal the old fashioned way—he earned it. Along the way be became one of the top professional boxers of the 1980s.   

      Before turning pro Marlon reportedly won 97 of 110 amateur bouts. His professional career spanned 11 years (1979-1990). He lost only 5 of 52 professional fights and stopped 27 opponents.  Only one of his five career losses (all by decision) resulted in a unanimous verdict. He drew in two other bouts.

In an era of tough welterweight competition Marlon Starling stood out among his peers.

     Marlon won his first 25 fights before losing a split 12 round decision to future welterweight champion Donald Curry in 1982. He defeated his next six opponents (flattening four of them) and looked very impressive stopping hard punching Jose Baret and outpointing Kevin Howard over 12 rounds. 

     The rematch with Curry for the world title resulted in another decision loss for Starling. The Dallas hotshot seemed to have Marlon’s number. But showing the patience and persistence that was the hallmark of his stolid fighting style Marlon got back on track with wins over Lupe Acquino, Floyd Mayweather, Sr., Simon Brown and Pedro Vilella. 

     In 1987 he defeated Mark Breland in a torrid battle for the WBA welterweight title, stopping the former Olympic champion in the 11^th round. Less than a year later he won the WBC welterweight belt with a 9^th round TKO of England’s Lloyd Honeyghan.  

    Moving up in weight Marlon challenged IBF middleweight champion Michael Nunn but lost a majority 12 round decision. Four months later, on August 19^th, 1990, in the final fight of his career, Marlon lost the welterweight title to Maurice Blocker via another majority decision. 

    In an era of tough welterweight competition Marlon Starling stood out among his peers. Let’s read what he has to say about his career.

Interview:

Mike: Marlon, let’s start by talking about some of your most important fights. In 1982 you lost a split 12 round decision for the North American welterweight title to Donald Curry. It was your first loss in 26 professional fights. A year later you lost a 15 round unanimous decision to Curry, this time for the world title. Was he your most difficult opponent?

Marlon: Not difficult. Donald Curry was my most challenging opponent. That’s because Donald was a boxer like me. He did nothing great, but everything good. That was the kind of fighter I was. It was like fighting a mirror image of me. I mean he wasn’t a dynamite puncher. He didn’t have a great hook, didn’t have a great left jab, but everything was good. 

Mike: Often when boxers have similar styles it doesn’t make for an exciting fight. In fact, the New York Times reporter called it a “dull” fight. 

Marlon: I believe I won that first fight. I mean I didn’t get the decision but I know in my heart I won that first fight. But at the time Don Curry was a big Bob Arum fighter so he got the decision. The second fight was a different story. I lost that second fight more than he won it. Curry prepared himself better than I did for the second fight, even though I was prepared. He won a very close 15 round decision. My trainer kept saying ‘back him up, back him up’. But the problem was I couldn’t back him up. He was a little stronger than me in that fight. So he retained the title. I got out of the ring that day and for the first time in my career, maybe after 30 fights, said to myself ‘Wow, that guy beat me!’ And that was something that was tough for me to cough up.” 

Mike: You didn’t let that defeat slow you down. Over the next two and a half years you won 10 of 12 fights culminating in your 11^th round TKO victory over Mark Breland on August 22, 1987 for the welterweight championship. Before turning pro in 1984 Mark Breland had won every amateur title including an unprecedented five New York Golden Gloves championships and an Olympic gold medal.

Marlon: I knocked him out but I still got the worst ass whippin’ I ever took. His jab hurt like most guys right hand, and he was hitting me with that jab. His jab broke my nose. I should have boxed the man, worked my way in, feint the man, and do all this, but at the time I wanted that world championship. I got it, but I had to pay to get in. My strategy was to wear him down with body punches. Once I got inside I was banging that body. I didn’t like to pay the price but I had to.  

Mike: You also had a huge edge in professional experience—45 pro fights and 287 rounds to his 18 fights and 76 rounds. And you had fought tougher competition. 

Marlon: Yes, my experience was a factor but also my professionalism, my conditioning and my willingness not to quit. But you know what? Mark Breland became one of my best friends. We talk every other week. He is a good man. I respect him to the utmost. 

Mike: You fought a rematch with Breland eight months later that ended in a 12 round draw. Most observers thought you deserved the decision.  

Marlon: Mark was a bit better in the second fight. I was better too and got hit less this time. I deserved to win that fight but he was an Arum fighter and they didn’t want him to lose. 

Mike: Your victory over Breland won you partial recognition as welterweight champion. England’s Lloyd Honeyghan had defeated your nemesis Donald Curry two years earlier and was recognized as champion by a rival sanctioning group. In early 1989 you and Honeyghan met to unify the title. You stopped him in the 9^th round.  Tell me about that fight: 

Marlon: Now Lloyd Honygan was a whole different ball game. I knew I was going to beat him up.  

Mike: I recently watched a tape of the Honeyghan fight and you weren’t doing much for the first 3 or 4 rounds. Was that part of your strategy? 

Marlon:  The first two rounds I was just getting his technique…see what he’s doing…getting his timing down…getting his moves down. Lloyd was a good puncher but what good is a puncher if he ain’t gonna hit you? It’s all about hit and don’t get hit. I didn’t want to get careless. One time I did get careless and he hit me on top of the head and buckled my feet a little bit. Lloyd was a southpaw and every time he threw that right jab I’d counter with a right cross. If I showed him a feint and he put that left hand out I countered with the right. By the 5^th or 6^th round if I said jump he’d jump. He was actually waiting for it to happen. I mean by the 5^th round I had this guy scared to punch. I was not what you’d call a knock out fighter but I’d get your attention with everything I’d throw. 

Mike: Honeyghan had a big reputation coming into that fight, running up a string of impressive victories including a TKO of Donald Curry. Do you consider the Honeyghan fight your greatest career accomplishment? 

Marlon: Most fans would think that but Lloyd Honeyghan was one of my easiest fights ever as a professional. I mean he played right into my hands. Maybe I was just so eager and wanted to get him so bad. I was sharp that night. I would rather get knocked out than take a beating like he did. Nobody needs to take a beating like that. I know he wore that fight for a long time.” 

Mike: About a year after your victory over Honeyghan you put on 10 pounds and challenged middleweight champion Michael Nunn. You lost a 12 round decision. That was the only time you ever fought as a middleweight. 

Marlon: I was at the point where I said to myself there is nobody else in the world that can beat me at welterweight so I moved up a weight class to fight Nunn. What did I have to lose? He wasn’t a big puncher and I believed I could beat this guy even though he was undefeated and a southpaw. But he was a little quicker than I thought and a lot taller. That’s not an excuse why I lost that fight. In the middle of the third or fourth round I had him in the corner and I took my gloves and I like dug them into his face and he said to me, ‘c’mon man fight fair’. I decided to just get in there and box him.  I turned the fight into a sparring session. I didn’t go get him like I should have. That particular day he was a little sharper than I was. He won that fight because he worked harder. But you know what? After the fight we went out and had dinner together. 

Mike: Who trained you?

Marlon: My first trainer was Johnny Duke. He trained me as an amateur and in my early years as a pro. For a little while Eddie Futch trained me but we had a falling out and I let Eddie go. After that Freddie Roach, who worked with Eddie, became my trainer. But for most of my career my trainer was Marlon Starling. They just had to keep me in line with the training regimen. Whatever happened in my career happened for a reason. When I got with Freddie I finished with Freddie. He didn’t have to do a lot to get me ready—just sharpen me up. We were friends. 

Mike: What do you think of today’s top fighters? Do any of them stand out? 

Marlon: I watch the fights on TV now and then but I couldn’t tell you. There are too many champions. If one of them walked by me I would ask ‘who was that?’ I mean when I was fighting I knew everybody in the top ten. Now I don’t know who they are. That doesn’t mean I’m trying to degrade anybody. I just don’t know. But from what I see when I do watch the fights a lot is missing. They have a title but they don’t have the skills.

Mike: What is missing?

Marlon: I don’t see things that they should have been taught to do years ago. Listen, you can win a title with a three punch combination— left jab, right cross, left hook. You don’t see too many people throwing that combination. You don’t even see a double jab. If you throw a punch you have to bring it back from where you threw it, because if you don’t I’m going to make you pay for it. If you throw that right hand out you’ve got to bring it right back to your face. A lot of times I see a fighter throw the right and it comes back to his chest. I will counter punch you all day if you do that. You’ll be afraid to throw punches if I was in the ring with you. If all you know is “fight” I can beat you. I’m not going to fight you. I’m going to box you and win. Most of the guys when under pressure all they know is “fight”. They don’t know the professionalism of being a good boxer. Anybody could fight. Dogs fight. You’ve got to outthink the other fighter. What I mean by outthink is that sometimes you have to outfight your opponent. I’m not fighting with a guy that punches like hell. I’m going to box you, until you get tired, and then I’m going to fight you. I was a thinking fighter. I didn’t fight the fighters and I didn’t box the boxers. 

      “Today’s boxers have more toughness than knowledge. You can be tough. I love to fight the tough guys because they don’t have the knowledge. A good right hand, a good jab, and a good left hook. You have those three punches you can go places. If you don’t have a great jab it’s like training with one arm. Everything works off the jab, at least as far as I’ve been taught.”

Mike: I noticed in reviewing your fights that you rarely got trapped on the ropes or in the corner. 

Marlon: Ring generalship. Like I told people – ‘this is my house (the ring)’. I live here. I know that square. I got radar in back of me telling me ‘you’re coming close to the ropes, you’re coming close to the corner.’ You had to know these things.” 

Mike: You were very strong at 147 pounds. You had huge shoulders and a powerful physique. Many fighters today lift weights to increase strength. Did you ever lift weights as part of your training routine?  

Marlon: No, never. You know lifting weights tighten you up. I got most of my strength and power from punching the bag and training.”

Mike: You were sometimes criticized for showboating during a fight. In fact, your occassional clowning may have cost you the first Curry fight. Did you do it to play to the audience or confuse your opponent? 

Marlon: I don’t showboat. It’s all right if you do a move and knock the guy out– then it’s all right. But if something doesn’t happen then you’re accused of showboatin’. Sometimes it’s just in your rhythm. You couldn’t tell me ‘Oh Marlon do the Starling Stomp.’  I mean it wasn’t planned.  I was just in the moment. Emotions come with this sport. I wasn’t trying to showboat. I was just trying to be me trying to get what I can get out of this guy. 

Mike: In 1980, in only your sixth pro fight, you had the misfortune of fatally injuring your opponent Charley Newell. He never recovered from the brain injury and passed away nine days later. In spite of this tragedy you made the decision to continue with your career. 

Marlon: I had previously fought him in an amateur fight when he was in prison. Charley Newell was a bully on the street but to me he wasn’t a bad person. We fought at the Civic Center in Hartford. I think it was January 9^th. I hit him with a combo and knocked him out. I was working a job at that time and I went to work the next morning and I got a call that Charley Newell had passed away and that really bothered me. My parents always worried about what’s going to happen to me. I never worried about it. I came back for his funeral and his parents came up to me. His mother said to me ‘my son passed away doing something that he loved to do, don’t ever stop what you want to do.’ What she told me gave me the confidence to continue with my career. 

Mike: Tommy Hearns was welterweight champion while you were an up and coming prospect. You weren’t ready to take him on but you did spar with him while he was preparing for the Sugar Ray Leonard fight in 1981. What did you learn from that experience?   

Marlon: I got an offer to go to Vegas to work as a sparring partner and help Hearns get ready for Leonard. It was an opportunity for me to see what I could do with the ‘big boys’ out there. I sparred with Tommy and he broke my jaw but they knew I got the better of that sparring session. How do I know? They kept Milton McCrory far away from me after that. (Author’s Note: Milton McCrory, a future champion, was Hearns’s stablemate and a rising star in the welterweight division).  

Mike: A few years after that sparring session you were ready to challenge Hearns or Leonard but you never fought them. Why not?

Marlon: Marlon Starling fought everyone out there. The reason why I didn’t fight Leonard or Hearns is because my name wasn’t that big. I trained with Tommy but they just didn’t want to take a chance and give up something they had. That’ why they didn’t fight me…they couldn’t make a lot of money fighting me. 

Mike: Marlon, you lost the welterweight title to Maurice Blocker in your very last bout on August 19, 1990. The 12 round majority decision was very close and could have gone either way. You were only 30 years old and still a top rated welterweight. Why did you decide to retire? 

Marlon: I don’t think he won but it wasn’t one of my best fights. I quit the ring because the promoters and managers were making more money than me and they weren’t taking the punches.

Mike Silver is the author of The Arc of Boxing: The Rise and Decline of the Sweet Science and Stars in the Ring: Jewish Champions in the Golden Age of Boxing. Both books are available on Amazon.com.

END

By

Mike Silver

This past week the world lost a giant of musical theater, the legendary lyricist and composer Stephen Sondheim. One of the quotes attributed to Sondheim struck a chord with me. 

“The dumbing down of the country reflects itself on Broadway. The shows get dumber, and the public gets used to them.” 

If we replace the word Broadway with Boxing the quote can just as easily apply to the current boxing scene:  

          “The dumbing down of the country reflects itself in every aspect of boxing. Boxing gets dumber and the public gets used to it”.  

Anyone who has seriously studied boxing history is aware the sport has always reflected the society that surrounds it. That still holds true for today. Just consider one aspect—music. The great golden age of Jazz, musical theater, the Big Band Era and Rock and Roll, all coincided with the golden age of boxing from the 1920s to the 1950s.  When the heavyweight championship of the world mattered far more to society than it does today celebrity boxers such as John L. Sullivan, Jack Johnson, Jack Dempsey, Joe Louis, Rocky Marciano, Patterson, Liston, Ali and Tyson were not just important to the sport, they were also pop culture icons who were reflective of the era in which they fought. Today’s pervasive junk culture, where mediocrity is celebrated and flash over substance is the norm, has infested virtually every aspect of society and our lives, including boxing. It’s very appropriate to the times that most people–outside of those who still follow this sport–cannot name the current heavyweight champion, or the one who preceded him.  

“Today’s world champions and contenders are at the lowest caliber it has ever been in over 100 years”.

If you want to dumb down and ruin a professional sport, then boxing should be your template. No other sport has experienced the type of out of control anarchy that has plagued professional boxing for the past several decades. Aside from the industry’s lack of integrity, coherence, or respect for its fans, the boxing skill (or lack thereof) of the majority of today’s world champions and contenders are at the lowest caliber it has ever been in over 100 years.   

Case in point: The recently televised super bantamweight (weight limit 122 pounds) “unification” title fight between Stephen Fulton, the WBO (World Boxing Organization) champion, and Brandon Figueroa, the WBC (World Boxing Council) champion. 

“Skills common among champions in decades past, are impossible to acquire today”.

I’m not blaming the boxers for their lack of skills. It’s not their fault. Every fight today, with rare exception, is a dumbed down facsimile of what a match between top professional boxers used to look like. Fulton and Figueroa had the heart, desire and conditioning but lacked the subtle skills of a seasoned professional boxer. Such skills, common among champions in decades past, are impossible to acquire today. Aside from a dearth of competent trainers today’s boxers are not exposed to the type of competition that over time would add to their experience and improve their performance. From the 1920s to the 1960s boxers had, on average, 60 or more professional fights before getting the opportunity to fight for a world title. A boxer with less than 20 fights was still considered a work in progress. Today the average number of fights to a title is 10 to 20. Going into their fight Figueroa and Fulton had only 19 and 22 fights respectively. Sixty years ago their limited professional experience might have entitled them to an eight round preliminary match in the old Madison Square Garden—if they were lucky. A title fight pitting these novices against the then current world bantam or featherweight champions (think Eder Jofre, Rubin Olivares, Alexis Arguello) would never even be contemplated.    

“Fulton and Figueroa, like so many others, are not being taught properly”.

Even taking into account their lack of professional experience it was apparent that Fulton and Figueroa, like so many others, are not being taught properly. Instead of moving about the ring with the speed and footwork expected of featherweights they fought like amateurish heavyweights trying to overwhelm the other with power punches. Feinting, timing and judgement of distance were absent from their limited repertoire. There was no lateral movement. Both fighters were stationary targets and easy to hit. They did not step in with their punches but kept charging towards each other like two rams butting heads. When they closed and became entangled it was obvious that no one had taught them how to clinch. There were very few combinations thrown. They just mostly flailed away with “hail Mary” punches intended to knock out their opponent. When one landed it was usually by accident. 

Neither fighter displayed any coherent plan or strategy. As a result, the fight quickly deteriorated into a messy and artless brawl with every round looking exactly like the one that preceded it. If you saw one round you saw the entire fight. There was no change in tactics or adjustment in style because neither boxer was capable of doing that. The only intelligent comment made by one of the five incessantly yammering ringside commentators was that “they’re fighting like ‘rock ‘em, sock ‘em robots’”.  No doubt it was meant as a compliment, but is an apt description of boxers devoid of any cleverness or what used to be referred to as “ring guile”. As is often the case with today’s boxers they were getting hit far too often with punches that could have been easily avoided. Defensive moves in the form of parrying, ducking, sliding, slipping, weaving or simply taking a step back were nonexistent. According to CompuBox punch stats they threw a combined total of 1462 power punches (described as any punch not a jab) of which over two-thirds landed—far too many. Yet only 354 jabs were attempted, with barely 10% landing. If either fighter had employed an effective jab more often it could have changed the course of the fight. 

“The disappearance of the left jab is one of the more disturbing aspects of the dumbed down quality of contemporary boxing.”

Just as a comparison I watched a video of the Rueben Olivares vs. Alexis Arguello featherweight title bout from 1974 and counted up the number of jabs thrown by Olivares, one of the greatest punchers of the past half century. I stopped counting by the sixth round since Olivares had already thrown 216 jabs, 50 more than Fulton had attempted for the entire 12 rounds. The disappearance of the left jab is one of the more disturbing aspects of the dumbed down quality of contemporary boxing.

 If there is anything positive to say about this fight it is that both men were evenly matched. In the end Fulton was awarded a majority decision and thus unified the WBC and WBO super bantamweight titles. But don’t open the champagne bottles just yet. We should not confuse a “unification” fight with a fight for the “undisputed” title. The current IBF (International Boxing Federation) super bantamweight champion is Murodjon (let’s call him Muro) Akhmadaliev of Uzbekistan. In addition to the IBF title Muro also owns the WBA “Super World Super Bantamweight” title. No, that is not a typo. The word “Super” appears twice to differentiate it from the plain “Super” WBA title which appears to be vacant at this time. Adding another version of the same 122 pound title gives the WBA an opportunity to charge another “sanctioning fee” when the time comes to crown the next “super, super” world champion. What this means is that the WBA recognizes not one, but two versions of their same 122 pound world title. It is a clever subterfuge. More titles mean additional fees can be deducted from the boxer’s purse for the “privilege” of fighting for an organization’s title belt.  All four sanctioning groups are guilty of the same behavior. It’s why this farcical but dangerous sport currently has about 90 world champions (no one is sure of the exact number) spread over 18 weight divisions, at least 7 of which are unnecessary. Over the past 40 years millions of dollars in sanctioning fees have flowed into the coffers of the WBC, WBA, IBF and WBO with nothing of value being returned to the sport. One can never underestimate the arrogance and crass stupidity of these useless boxing parasites who continue to feed off of the blood, sweat and tears of the boxers they exploit. 

Mike Silver’s books include “The Arc of Boxing: The Rise and Decline of the Sweet Science” and “Stars in the Ring: Jewish Champions in the Golden Age of Boxing-A Photographic History”; His most recent book is “The Night the Referee Hit Back: Memorable Moments From the World of Boxing”.

By Mike Silver

On September 23, 1952, in Philadelphia’s Municipal Stadium, Jersey Joe Walcott defended his heavyweight crown against challenger Rocky Marciano. During the seventh round of a thrilling fight a caustic substance got into Marciano’s eyes. He returned to his corner blinking and squinting. “There’s something in my eyes, they’re burning.” Freddie Brown, one of the best corner men in the business, sponged Rocky’s eyes with copious amounts of water, giving the challenger some relief. But the burning began again in the eighth round. At the bell Rocky returned to his corner in obvious distress, telling his trainer Charley Goldman, “My eyes are getting worse. Do something, I can’t see.” Goldman and Freddie Brown continued to douse his eyes. Al Weill, Marciano’s volatile manager, was beside himself. Leaving the corner he approached referee Charley Daggert and pleaded with him to investigate Walcott’s gloves and shoulders. The referee waived him back to the corner.

If there was something illegal going on in Walcott’s corner Weill’s complaining must have gotten someone’s attention because by the end of the 10th round Rocky’s eyes have cleared and his vision returned to normal.

After 12 brutal rounds Walcott was ahead in the scoring. Unless Rocky can win by a knockout he will lose the decision. Less than a minute into the 13th round Marciano connects with a devastating right cross to Walcott’s chin and one of the greatest heavyweight title fights of all time comes to a sudden and dramatic ending.

The kinescope of the closed circuit telecast lends credence to the belief that Walcott’s gloves were doctored.

Was there foul play in Philly? The kinescope of the closed circuit telecast lends credence to the belief that Walcott’s gloves were doctored. At the end of the sixth round the camera shifts to Walcott’s corner and if you watch closely you can see Felix Bocchiccio, Walcott’s manager, rubbing Walcott’s left and right gloves as if he is applying something. Was this just a nervous reaction? I think not. The action looks too deliberate. After the eighth round the camera again follows Walcott to his corner. As soon as he sits down we see Bocchiccio leaning through the ropes and he again rubs Walcott’s right glove for at least six seconds in a circular motion before the camera moves over to Rocky’s corner. (My personal kinescope copy clearly shows this but for some reason it has been cut from the version available on YouTube). Just before the bell rings to begin the ninth round the camera moves back to Walcott’s corner and we again see his manager quickly rub Walcott’s gloves and then wipe his hands on the fighter’s stomach and trunks, as if trying to remove something. This part is included on the current YouTube version. Could the substance just be Vaseline? It’s doubtful. There is no reason to apply Vaseline to a fighter’s gloves in the midst of a fight.

Rocky never believed Walcott was aware of anything illegal going on in his corner. “He was too wrapped up in the fight (to notice),”

Rocky Marciano always believed that Jersey Joe’s manager had rubbed a hot, irritant salve—perhaps a capsicum ointment—on Walcott’s gloves and upper body. Rocky had good reason to suspect foul play. Felix Bocchicchio had resurrected Jersey Joe’s career and put him on the road to the championship, but he was also a well-known gambler and an organized crime figure in Philadelphia and New Jersey with a rap sheet dating back to 1925.  Rocky never believed Walcott was aware of anything illegal going on in his corner. “He was too wrapped up in the fight (to notice),” Marciano said. “He was too great a champ to go along with something like that. They wouldn’t tell him. But somebody did it, because I know what was happening to my eyes.” Peter Marciano, Rocky’s brother: “Rocky believed he was blinded intentionally until the day he died. He spoke of it often.” After he retired as undefeated champion Rocky accused Bocchicchio of rubbing the substance on Walcott’s gloves and upper body in a story published in the Saturday Evening Post in October 1956. Walcott’s manager sued for libel. A Pennsylvania jury believed the allegations and found in favor of the Post.

In Liston’s corner his principal seconds are two men whose home base just happens to be the City of Brotherly Love.

Now let’s jump ahead to February 25, 1964.  The scene is the Miami Beach Auditorium. Cassius Clay, a 7 to 1 underdog, is about to challenge heavyweight champion Sonny Liston. It’s not Philadelphia, but it might as well be. In Liston’s corner his principal seconds are two men whose home base just happens to be the City of Brotherly Love: Joe Polino, a well-known trainer and corner man, and former heavyweight contender Willie Reddish, Sonny’s chief trainer.

As the fourth round came to a close it was apparent that the odds did not reflect what was taking place in the ring. The challenger appeared quite capable of pulling off a huge upset. But near the end of the round Clay looked pained and began to blink furiously. He returned to his corner in an agitated state. “Cut the gloves off!” screamed young Cassius whose eyes felt like they were burning up. A caustic substance of unknown origin had somehow gotten into Clay’s eyes just as he seemed to be taking charge of the fight. The very capable and experienced Angelo Dundee, Clay’s trainer and chief second, kept a cool head. He sponged the stricken fighter’s eyes in an attempt to wash away whatever was causing the problem. At the bell to begin the fifth round Clay was still complaining. “I can’t see. We’re going home.” “No way” answered Dundee. “Get in there and fight. If you can’t see, keep away from him until your eyes clear. This is the big one. Nobody walks away from the heavyweight championship.” Dundee shoved him out of the corner.

Even though he was fighting half blind Clay incredibly was able to survive the round despite Liston’s best efforts to render him unconscious. Swaying and shifting like an Indian rubber man Clay instinctively avoided most of Liston’s punches. It was an amazing display by an extraordinarily talented 22-year-old athlete.

In the following round, with his vision improved, Clay dominated Liston, landing dozens of unanswered punches. The exhausted and demoralized champion returned to his corner at the end of the sixth round a tired and beaten fighter. Claiming an injured shoulder he told his seconds he could not go on. Cassius Clay—soon to be renamed Muhammad Ali—became the 22nd heavyweight champion of the world.

There is strong reason to believe that someone in Liston’s corner tried the same illegal methods used in the Marciano-Walcott fight to influence the outcome…

Conclusion: There is strong reason to believe that someone in Liston’s corner tried the same illegal methods used in the Marciano-Walcott fight to influence the outcome by temporarily blinding Clay. When asked his opinion Angelo Dundee, ever the diplomat, said that a substance used to treat Liston’s cut under his eye must have accidentally gotten into Clay’s eyes. But couldn’t it have gotten into Liston’s eyes as well, and why would anyone choose to treat an eye cut with a caustic substance in the first place?

Eddie Machen told reporters, “The same thing happened to me when I fought Liston in 1960.

Two days after the fight heavyweight contender Eddie Machen told reporters, “The same thing happened to me when I fought Liston in 1960. I thought my eyes would burn out of my head, and Liston seemed to know it would happen.” He theorized that Liston’s handlers would rub medication on his shoulders, which would then be transferred to his opponent’s forehead during clinches and drip into the eyes. “Clay did the worst thing when he started screaming and let Liston know it had worked,” said Machen. “Clay panicked. I didn’t do that. I’m more of a seasoned pro, and I hid it from Liston.”

Years later Joe Polino, Liston’s assistant trainer, told Philadelphia Daily News reporter Jack McKinney what actually happened.

According to Polino, in between the third and fourth rounds, Sonny had told him to “juice the gloves.” Polino said they were always ready to do that if Sonny was in real danger of losing. He admitted they had done it in Liston’s fights with Eddie Machen and Cleveland Williams. He said it was a stinging solution but did not specify what was in it.

According to McKinney, “Polino told me that he put the stuff on the gloves at Sonny’s express instructions and then threw the stuff under the ring apron as far as he could.” McKinney also added, “Joe himself felt so conflicted over this. He’d been sucked into it, but he knew if he ever came clean he would never work again.”

…both Walcott and Liston were handled by Philadelphia boxing people.

In each of the above scenarios the heavyweight champion of the world was facing defeat. It appears that desperate and illegal measures were taken by someone in the champion’s corner to influence the outcome. The other common denominator is that both Walcott and Liston were handled by Philadelphia boxing people. Philadelphia was home base for Blinky Palermo, the notorious fight fixer and longtime godfather of the city’s boxing scene. Blinky operated freely in Philly but was banned in New York State. This is not to say that he was involved in either incident (in fact he was in jail in 1964) just that Philadelphia was no stranger to boxing scandal considering who had been in charge for many years. Fight fans with long memories remember the notorious incident involving Harold Johnson, who claimed he was drugged after someone had given him a “poisoned orange” just before he stepped into a Philadelphia ring to face Cuban heavyweight Julio Mederos in 1955. Johnson, the betting favorite, was stopped in the second round. Professional boxing was suspended in Philadelphia for six months following the incident.

Perhaps because Marciano defeated Walcott to win the title the matter was not pursued by Weill or anyone else. There was no investigation by Pennsylvania boxing officials into the possibility that Walcott’s gloves were doctored. Florida officials were even more lax in the aftermath of the Clay-Liston bout. Florida didn’t even have a state boxing commission. Instead, local municipalities (in this case Miami Beach) ran the show. The only investigation that took place concerned the veracity of Liston’s claim that he injured his shoulder, which may have been bogus or exaggerated, but could not be proven.

The nefarious attempts to alter the course of boxing history failed…

Both Rocky Marciano and the fighter then known as Cassius Clay were destined for greatness. The nefarious attempts to alter the course of boxing history failed because Clay’s amazing speed, reflexes and uncanny athletic instincts enabled him to survive the fifth round. The attempt to foil Marciano was also unsuccessful because of the Rock’s almost super human toughness and determination. For three full rounds Marciano could barely see the target in front of him yet he kept attacking in his relentless way, bringing the fight to Walcott despite taking punches that would have stopped most heavyweights in their tracks. On that night it would have taken more than the two fists of a mortal being, let alone a “caustic solution”, to defeat the indestructible “Brockton Blockbuster.”

Article is excerpted from “The Night the Referee Hit Back: Memorable Moments from the World of Boxing” by Mike Silver (Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2020).

BY 

MIKE SILVER

Six weeks ago at the press conference announcing the highly anticipated July 29th welterweight title fight between Errol Spence Jr. and Terence Crawford something remarkable happened. Errol Spence boldly called out the four sanctioning bodies (WBC, WBA, IBF and WBO)   for the huge fees they charge to every boxer who fights for one of their title belts. “We got to know where this money is going to”, said Spence. “How is it helping the fighters out? What are they doing with it?” 

Highway Robbery

Spence had good reason to ask. According to ESPN both he and Crawford are guaranteed a minimum of 10 million dollars apiece for their Showtime pay-per-view unification fight. Since all four organizations’ title belts will be on the line Spence and Crawford are supposed to give up 3 percent of their purse to each group as a “sanctioning fee”. That amounts to a total 12 per cent of 20 million dollars ($2,400,000) to be split four ways by the sanctioning groups. At the very least each boxer will have to pay $1,200,000 to these groups for the privilege of fighting for the belts. (If pay-per-view sales are strong the amount will be even higher).That is an obscene price to pay for the right to be recognized as champion by these self-appointed quasi-official ratings organizations.  

Scam Artists

By the early 2000s the Mexico City based World Boxing Council (WBC) had already collected over $20 million in sanctioning fees from boxers’ purses, with an estimated ninety per cent of the money generated in the Unites States. The main source of income for the WBC, WBA, IBF and WBO (aka “the alphabet gangs”) are the aforementioned sanctioning fees. Each organization takes 3 per cent of the champion and challenger’s purse for every title fight they certify. The increase in the number of weight divisions in the 1980s from ten to 17 is directly tied to the desire of all four organizations wanting to collect additional fees while giving back to the sport nothing of value. It was a matter of simple economics– more weight divisions meant more title fights and thus more fees.  But it still wasn’t enough for these greedy hustlers. Adding yet more weight divisions would be too hard a sell, so they decided on a clever innovation. The sanctioning organizations invented additional titles within each of the 17 weight categories with names like “International”, “Global”, “Interim”,  “Super”, “Super, Super”, “Regular”, “Green”, “Diamond”, “Gold”, “Silver”, “Youth”, “Francophone”, “Champion in Recess”, “Franchise”.  As a result, there are nearly 200 of these fabricated titles currently crowding professional boxing’s schizoid landscape. Most of these “champions” are unknown to even the most avid boxing fans. But that is of no concern to the alphabet gangs. What is important to them is that every boxing match broadcast by cable TV or a streaming internet service is for some kind of cockamamie title that requires both challenger and champion to cough up the 3 per cent sanctioning fee.  With the rush to crown so many champions the fights often involve novice professionals with fewer than a dozen fights. 

New titles pop up every year, so it’s safe to say the only people keeping track of all the belts (and fees) are the organizations’ bookkeepers. The WBA alone has 45 “champions” across 17 weight divisions. As soon as a title fight ends a representative of the sanctioning organization enters the ring to present the winner with an oversized leather and metal belt.   

In his outstanding book, Boxing Confidential, author Jim Brady put the current title situation in historical perspective: “In the 1950s, there were approximately 5000 fighters worldwide. There were generally eight weight divisions, with one champion in each. That breaks down to one champ every 625 boxers. Today, with just the major sanctioning bodies and not counting the whackos, you have about one ‘world champion’ for every sixty-nine pros. It’s ridiculous.” No other major sport, with the exception of professional wrestling, would put up with the absurdity. 

So, in the words of Errol Spence, “Where is the money going to? How is it helping the fighters out? What are they doing with it?” In his blog post of June 22^nd, the Editor of England’s respected Boxing News, Matt Christie, wrote, “It clearly isn’t being used to pay honest and knowledgeable people to compile rankings, it’s not adding to a pension pot for boxers, it’s not being spent on the carrying out of background checks on the criminals they do business with, nor is a penny going to charities like Ringside Charitable Trust.” 

With no one to rein them in the alphabet gangs find it easy to make up their own rules and then break them when it suits their purposes. They manipulate their ratings of contenders to accommodate the needs of a few powerful promoters ahead of the welfare of boxers and the sport. Even casual fans know their monthly ratings are not to be trusted. Champions recognized by one sanctioning organization are not even rated in the top ten contender lists of a rival group. Under the table payments and secret deals between promoters and sanctioning organizations can get a less than mediocre fighter rated among the top contenders in his weight division. In order to provide a popular alphabet champion with a safe title defense the boxer’s promoter can arrange to have an inferior opponent rated to justify the mismatch. If boxing had a national commissioner similar to other professional sports the sanctioning organizations would have been thrown out years ago. 

A Rare Opportunity

Errol Spence Jr. and Terence Crawford have a rare opportunity to actually do something that could help their sport and all fighters who are forced to give up a large chunk of their earnings to these thieves. All it would take is for Crawford and Spence to refuse to pay any sanctioning fees to the WBC, WBA, IBF and WBO. There is no logical reason why they should have to pay. With or without the belts would any fight fight fan on the planet doubt that the winner of Spence vs. Crawford is the best welterweight in the world? The new champion, whoever it will be, does not need a belt to prove it. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if their refusal to pay sanctioning fees encouraged other high profile boxers to do the same?  Every boxer would benefit and so would the sport. It’s a long shot, but maybe this can be the start of a movement that will eventually drive the alphabet gangs out of the sport. Denying them fees would eliminate their raison d être and like rats deserting a sinking ship they would quickly disappear. 

If both Spence and Crawford refuse to pay fees, the sanctioning organizations, according to their rules, will strip them of the belts and declare the titles vacant. If past history is any guide all four groups will then seek to crown their own welterweight champion and return to doing business as usual.  

The People’s Champion

But what will we call the winner of the Spence vs. Crawford showdown if the new champion walks out of the ring without the four alphabet belts. Since he will no longer be a standard bearer for the WBC, WBA, IBF and WBO, why not call him “The People’s Champion”.  That title—“People’s Champion”—should only be reserved for the fighter who has proven to be the best in his weight class by beating the best. It would have nothing to do with holding 2, 3, 4 or more alphabet belts. The belts should be considered meaningless unless the fighter has earned the title of “People’s Champion” by meeting and defeating the best competition. The fans’ acknowledgement is all that is needed. That was the way it used to be from the early 1900s to the 1970s. 

When Jack Dempsey knocked out Jess Willard to win the heavyweight championship in 1919 there were no sanctioning organizations and no belts or fees. In fact, of the hundreds of photos I have seen of the legendary “Manassa Mauler” I have yet to come across one showing him wearing a championship belt. The public recognized Dempsey as a legitimate world champion because he beat the man that beat the man. The approbation of a “sanctioning organization” was unnecessary, and it was the same for every heavyweight champion that followed him for the next 60 years. So, to paraphrase the famous “badges” line from the classic 1948 film, Treasure of the Sierra Madre, both Spence and Crawford should tell the alphabet bandits—“We don’t need your stinkin’ belts!” 

When the undefeated heavyweight champion Muhammad Ali was stripped of his title for refusing to be drafted into the army in 1967 he declared himself “The People’s Champion” and until defeated by Joe Frazier the people agreed with him.  When great fighters such as Sonny Liston, Harold Johnson, Emile Griffith, Carlos Ortiz and Eder Jofre won their respective titles in the early 1960s there was no WBC or WBA. The only sanctioning organization that existed in the U.S. was the old National Boxing Association which began in 1921 and eventually grew to represent a loose confederation of 43 member states. Over the next 40 plus years it was staffed by a small group of unpaid but knowledgeable volunteers that recognized champions and rated the top ten fighters for each of boxing’s eight traditional weight divisions. Some of the volunteers were employed by their state athletic commission; most of the others had full time jobs unrelated to boxing. What they all had in common was a love for the sport. They were not seeking to use boxing to line their pockets. The ratings of the NBA were considered reliable and they could not be bought. Unlike today’s sanctioning organizations, the NBA was independent of promoters and did not seek to influence who would referee or judge a title fight. Their only purpose was to add a measure of credibility and coherent structure to boxing, something that is sadly lacking today. Yes, there was a sanctioning fee imposed for NBA recognized title fights. It was a token one dollar. That’s right—one dollar! And it was paid by the promoter. 

But, as noted earlier, things began to change in the late 1970s coinciding with renewed interest in televised boxing that took off a decade later. The National Boxing Association had since morphed into the World Boxing Association (WBA) and moved its headquarters from the U.S. to Panama where a new group took over. (Its current headquarters are in Venezuela). Executives at the CBS and ABC television networks, although satisfied with boxing’s high Nielsen ratings, were concerned about the sport’s less than stellar reputation and a recent scandal involving a corrupt Don King sponsored tournament. To defer blame for any future scandals they insisted on some type of official imprimatur when advertising title fights so they turned to the only “sanctioning organizations” available at the time—the WBA and a spinoff organization calling itself the World Boxing Council (WBC) with headquarters in Mexico. Don King and Bob Arum, the sports major promoters, each had contracts with most of the champions and contenders attractive to television. The competitors were quick to realize the importance TV was allocating to these mostly insignificant entities so they formed mutually beneficial partnerships with them (King with the WBC and Arum with the WBA). The rest is history. (For a complete explanation of how the alphabet gangs came to power see chapter 15 in Mike Silver’s book, “The Arc of Boxing: The Rise and Decline of the Sweet Science (McFarland Publishers, 2008). 

So I ask you, Terence Crawford and Errol Spence Jr., for the good of the sport you love and have devoted your life to, at this most important time in your respective boxing careers, toss your alphabet belts and refuse to pay the sanctioning fees. You will not only keep over two million dollars that no one should be entitled to take from you, but also strike the first significant blow that could mean the beginning of the end for the alphabet gangs. For too long they have robbed too many fighters while at the same time devaluing what it means to be a true “world champion”. Hopefully your action might encourage other high profile boxers to do the same. If some good comes out of it future generations of fighters will bless and honor you for your courage and commitment to doing what is right. 

Mike Silver is a former inspector with the New York State Athletic Commission and author of three books on boxing: The Arc of Boxing: The Rise and Decline of the Sweet Science; Stars in the Ring: Jewish Champions in the Golden Age of Boxing; The Night the Referee Hit Back: Memorable Moments From the World of Boxing. All are available on Amazon.com.