March 1st, 1937. Manchester, UK.

Benny Lynch goes down five times in his bout with Len 'Nipper' Hampston. Lynch is immediately disqualified when his second jumps into the ring in the fifth claiming a foul.

"Lynch had been discovered on the eve of the fight in such a state of intoxication his handlers tried to coerce the Hampston camp to fix the fight so the follow-up bout could have more meaning. Naturally the offer was refused and Benny suffered five rounds of torture, continuously being felled by body punches, which was a sure-fire indicator of his lax approach to preparation. The rematch sated some of the indignation Benny felt at the previous humiliation (Lynch won by 10th round tko)"

(By Ben Hoskin)

In early 1916, a frenzied group of fight promoters gathered in Barcelona to organize what promised to be a 'sensational encounter' between former world heavyweight champion Jack Johnson (the famous black fighter who was living in Europe, a fugitive from his native land because of charges of having violated the Mann Act) and Arthur Cravan, an outspoken, notoriously eccentric Englishman, who claimed not only to be a professional fighter, but also the nephew of Oscar Wilde. Posters were hung throughout the city to publicize the event. In the controversial match, which took place at the Plaza de Toros Monumental on Sunday afternoon, April 23, we can safely surmise that Cravan fought true to form, that is, leading more with his mouth than with his fists. After six rounds of what must have amounted to little more than a skillful demonstration of shadow boxing -  staged more for the benefit of a rolling camera than the disappointed audience - Johnson finally dropped Cravan with an upper-right/left-cross combination. Knockout or not, the audience smelled farce, and because of the guaranteed fifty-thousand-peseta purse, the next day the daily press proclaimed the fight 'The Great Swindle.'

For Johnson, it was just one more relatively uneventful 'ring contest,' as he called it, arranged for the benefit of his pocketbook. For Cravan, it was the main event in his tragically short life; two and one-half years later, at the age of thirty-one, he would disappear off the coast of Mexico, leaving behind only scant traces of a fascinating and adventurous life, one that stretched from the outback of Australia to the inner circle of vanguard artists and poets on both sides of the Atlantic.

Though he claimed to be a light-heavyweight champion (of something, somewhere) Cravan, according to Boxrec, had absolutely no competitive experience prior to the fight. Indeed, his official record notes  that he fought only three bouts: With Johnson (knocked out); against Frank Hoche (a draw, June 26, 1916); and against Jim Smith ("The Black Diamond" with only this fight to his credit) in Mexico City, September 15, 1918 (knocked out). With a record of no wins, two losses via knock-out, and a draw his only threat as a boxer was to his own safety.

(By Stephen J. Gertz)

In one of the stormiest scenes in British ring history, Walter Cartier of New york was disqualified Tuesday night for persistent holding in the second round of his bout with Randy Turpin, ex-middleweight champion and current top contender for the vacant crown.

No sooner had referee Tommy Little stopped the bout at 1.30 of the second session in Earl's Court Arena when Cartier, who had received seven separate warnings for holding, touched off a near-riot by rushing across the ring like a wild man with his fists flying at the referee and at a surprised Turpin as he screamed and kicked the ropes as hard as he could.

More than a dozen men swarmed into the ring from opposite corners and they milled about, waving their arms, shouting and cursing in wild argument. The sellout crowd of 18,000 cheered the referee, booed Cartier and began surging towards the ring.

Wild-eyed Walter claimed he had not been holding and that the referee had no right to disqualify him. Arena attendants finally cleared a path for him and he was escorted to his dressing room.

(The Times-News - Mar 18, 1953)

The first black boxer to contest a British title was Dick Turpin against Vince Hawkins in June 1948. It was felt to be significant enough to warrant coverage on BBC radio. Dick Turpin comprehensively won the fight before a crowd of 40,000 at Villa Park to become the first black boxer of the modern era to hold a British title.

.....................

British Boxing’s Colour Bar lasted between 1911 and 1948.

Charles Donmall, the General Secretary of British Boxing Board of Control was quoted in 1947 - "It is only right that a small country such as ours should have championships restricted to boxers of white parents. Otherwise we might be faced with a situation where all our British titles are held by Coloured Empire (Commonwealth) champions. The Board has done much for the Empire boxers of colour. We have a very high regard for them as men and boxers. They are not penalized by this rule. They have the British Empire (Commonwealth) championship open to them"

However, it was only a year after the above statement that the colour bar in british boxing was repealed.

After an operation whereby monkey's glands were grafted into his body, Frank Klaus, former Middleweight Champion, will attempt to come back in the roped arena and regain his crown.

"I never was in better physical health in my life than I am right now and I believe my vitality is stronger every day" he says.
Klaus kept the operation a secret at first, no-one but his wife knew that the operation was performed.

"I was advised by a friend who returned from France a few months ago to try the operation" said Klaus. "Through the aid of a prominent Pittsburgh doctor, who is at the head of one of the largest hospitals here, I had the job done."

Klaus has had offers to fight in England and Belgium and will sail for the latter country next month.

(The Milwaukee Journal - Feb 10, 1920)

.........................................


(Klaus is pictured here in 1912 in a hotel room near Dieppe, France...receiving a massage while in preparation for his bout with World Title claimant Georges Carpentier.)

On September 7, 1960, Eddie Machen stepped into the ring to face the feared Sonny Liston.  To many, Liston was the “Uncrowned Heavyweight Champion” and a bout with Patterson was being called for by the fans and press alike.  Only Eddie stood in Sonny’s way.  The bout took place in Seattle and Eddie gave the brutish Liston all he could handle.  In the end, Sonny took a unanimous decision despite losing three points for low blows.

"Liston is a good fighter," Machen said, "but he won't knock down any walls. I don't like to alibi, but I hurt my shoulder six days ago in training and couldn't use my right too well. I want very much to fight him again when I have two hands." Liston, the number one contender for the crown, was equally unimpressed with second-rated Eddie. "All Machen wanted to do was go 12 rounds," he said. "He didn't want to fight. I had a bad night." Liston, who at 211 had a 15-pound weight advantage over Machen.

Machen later said he believed that Liston's handlers made deliberate use of illegal medication in an attempt to temporarily blind him during the fight. He theorized that Liston's handlers rubbed medication on their fighter's shoulders, which was transferred to Machen's forehead during clinches and dripped into his eyes. "I thought my eyes would burn out of my head, and Liston seemed to know it would happen," Machen said. When Liston fought Muhammad Ali—then Cassius Clay—in 1964, Ali returned to his corner after the fourth round and complained that there was something burning in his eyes and he could not see. "The same thing happened to me when I fought Liston," Machen said two days after Ali upset Liston. "Clay did the worst thing when he started screaming and let Liston know it had worked," Machen added. "Clay panicked. I didn't do that. I'm more of a seasoned pro, and I hid it from Liston."

Although I have fought more than 60 opponents, I will never forget my bout at Warrington with Joe Curran of Liverpool. I consider this my most thrilling contest. It was unusual how the fight came to be fixed up.

Early in 1936 I was told that I was to meet Laddie Hines of Colne, and I was looking forward to an interesting tussle, as Hines had a good record. Then we in the North got a severe shock when news came through that Laddie had died suddenly. Hardly had the announcement been published when I was informed that Joe Curran had been engaged as a substitute.

Curran was fighting impressively, and I trained hard, hoping to keep up my winning form. For the second time the show was cancelled owing to the country going into mourning through the death of His Majesty King George V.

However, the promoter managed to overcome a series of problems, and the contest took place at catch-weights over 10 rounds. I knew that I would have to put up my best display, because Curran has a reputation of being a crafty boxer.

I began confidently. Unfortunately, I was too confident. In the second round I came close to defeat. Such a result would have been disastrous at that vital stage of my career. A strong punch put Curran on the boards for a long count. Thinking that Joe had been close to a knockout, I went in to finish the fight. Then came a thrill for the crowd, but not for me! Everything appeared to go black. Joe had evidently been resting, and had taken full advantage of the long count.

Seeing me uncovered, he swung a smashing blow, which, I learnt afterwards, caught me flush on the jaw and I collapsed. Everything that happened from this stage and in the following rounds until the start of the eighth session seemed like a dream - and a blank one at that!

After seeing Curran on the canvas I remember nothing until I heard the time-keeper shout, "Seconds out; eighth round!" I had fought five rounds without knowing it! But my supporters told me later that I had done well during the "blank rounds". Crafty Curran nearly did the trick.

I put everything I knew into the remaining rounds, and fortunately did not fall into Curran's trap again. I got the verdict, but Curran taught me a lesson - never to be too sure of oneself. Although Curran did not get the decision, he can say that he is the only boxer to put me down for a count.

(Peter Kane)

..................

Born on 28th February 1918 in Heywood, Lancashire, UK, Peter Kane was a blacksmith in the neighbouring district of Lowton, and lived in a bungalow on Liverpool Road, Pewfall, near St Helens for most of his professional career. Following in his father's footsteps, he began boxing at 16 years of age and took the professional name 'Kane'. He went on to win lasting fame as a boxer, and became World Flyweight Boxing Champion in 1938.

The video below is from the later 1942 bout between Kane and Curran, the final bout in their trilogy.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=84eMh5UV87g

One night before boxing practice in the late 1970s, amateur fighter Jeff Lanas had a dream that he fought the legendary Roberto Duran.

In the dream Lanas was flustered because he couldn't find his boxing equipment. He rummaged through a laundry closet, looking for his boxing trunks. He arrived late to the arena. He found that Duran was much shorter than he had expected -- the size of a gnome, only a few feet tall. He couldn't tell you what Duran looked like because the fighter from Panama was wearing oversized headgear.

Fully awake, Lanas went to boxing practice the next morning. He told members of the Mount Prospect Boxing Club about the funny dream he had the night before.

About 10 years after that dream, Lanas got a chance to fight the authentic, full-size Duran. Lanas had won the 1982 Chicago Golden Gloves welterweight title and had an impressive professional career.

It was a "Rocky" story. Duran's handlers seemed to pull the 26-year-old Lanas' name out of a hat. Lanas was not a top-10 ranked middleweight. Duran was set to challenge Iran Barkley a few months after for the world middleweight championship. It was clear that Duran's people were looking for a tune-up fight, an easy opponent for the 37-year-old Duran whose nicknames were "Hands of Stone" and "El Cholo."

But Duran didn't get the easy opponent he wanted.

Many who saw the bout at the International Amphitheatre on Oct. 1, 1988, felt that Lanas beat Duran, that he had outpointed one of the great boxers of that era. Duran even hit Lanas below the belt in what could be construed as a dirty tactic to slow Lanas down. Duran had done the same to Ken Buchanan when he beat the Scotsman years before to win the lightweight title.

The local press didn't give Lanas credit for a strong showing. Instead they berated Duran, saying that the former lightweight champ was finished as a fighter. One sportswriter wrote: "Stick a fork in Roberto Duran. He's done."

But it turned out that Duran wasn't cooked. He beat Iran Barkley to capture the WBC Middleweight title just four months later in Atlantic City.

(By Tim Kane)

May 04, 1986

It looks as if boxing will have to wait a few more fights for its savior, a curious block of muscle known as Mike Tyson, 215 pounds of promise that as yet remains unfulfilled. He's still undefeated after 20 fights and still the hope of a desperate division. But he is not, as James (Quick) Tillis demonstrated, a finished piece of work.

In fact, Saturday, in an Adirondack arena hard by his Catskill camp, the boy wonder of boxing suffered some growing pains.

You could see it in his eyes as he stalked the ring afterward, looking uncertainly upon the Civic Center crowd. It wasn't that the decision, yet to be announced, would be close, a freak knockdown being the difference between a victory and a draw on two judges' scorecards, but that it was a decision at all. It was his first in 20 amazing fights, after 19 knockouts, and he didn't like it and the crowd didn't like it.

And you can be sure that the larger world of boxing, which is waiting somewhat impatiently for Tyson to grow into a credible champion and restore respect to the heavyweight division, didn't like it either.

Tyson had never needed more than six rounds to dismantle his opponents, and 12 times he did it within one. The sight of this compact hulk moving across the ring, his gloves held tightly in front of his lips as if to hide a bone-chilling smile (it is actually cherubic), has been impressive enough that you wonder why some of those one-round knockouts lasted so long.

So how could it take 10 rounds to defeat, and narrowly at that, a warhorse like Tillis, a man who had lost every important fight he'd been in? What gives?

Later, Tyson would explain his failure to take Tillis out by saying he "was laying for one punch, an uppercut, and (I) wanted to take him clean. I never got that opportunity." Later, Tyson's co-manager, Jimmy Jacobs, would say that the lapse was a most positive experience. "It's simply marvelous for the fighter," Jacobs said. "Now, he knows he can go the distance."

But neither Tyson nor Jacobs could cloak the disappointment in the air. It's as if nobody thought that Tyson, after all, just 19, would ever have any trouble in a man's game. Expectations have been high. But of course, they have been unrealistic as well.

Anybody would have had trouble with Tillis, 27, a promising contender until Mike Weaver sent him into decline five years ago. At 207 3/4 pounds, he was in the shape of his life. And though clearly an "opponent," an upgraded stiff meant to provide some quality to Tyson's list of victims, he was certainly of a mind to fight back. He had his own plans.

And if not for a wild left hand that Tyson easily evaded in the fourth round, Tillis might have had his own future. But Tyson stepped around and delivered a crisp left hook of his own, and Tillis, off-balance, spun down. Until that exchange, which came within 10 seconds of the bell, Tillis appeared to be winning the round. Had he won the round, the scores on two of the cards would have been 5-5 instead of 6-4, Tyson. Even with the third card, which favored Tyson, 8-2, the decision would have been a majority draw.

But what happened, happened. People ordinarily fall down when Tyson hits them. Tillis didn't fall down as most had, but once was enough.

Tyson tried to shrug off the disappointment, saying: "I'm moving up in class. For people who don't understand, if a fighter doesn't want to get knocked out, he won't get knocked out."

Not that this punching prodigy was without visible effect. In the first round, Tyson delivered three right hands to Tillis' body that resonated throughout the hall. And again in the fifth, he delivered several smacking rights to the body. He also opened cuts inside Tillis' mouth in the sixth round and ripped a small tear above his left eye with a staggering right hand that Tillis, amazingly, recovered from.

The question, thus, was to Tillis: Did he hurt you? "I'd say he hurt me," Tillis said. "You could see he was hurting me. . . ." Tillis, the Fighting Cowboy from Tulsa, went on to recommend that Tyson hereafter keep company with Earnie (Acorn) Shavers when hard hitters are evaluated. "He punches harder than the Acorn," Tillis said, "and the Acorn can crack."

Still, Tyson did not do as much damage inside as he normally does, and he was strangely inactive in the final three rounds. He said he was waiting for an opportunity to send Tillis back on the horse he rode in on. And Tyson got hit with some open shots, contradicting any possible notion that he can't take a punch but still encouraging some other heavyweights in the division.

There is plainly work to be done. But in his amazing two-fights-a-month career, he has hardly shirked that. Since he has plans to fight again May 20 (Mitch Green) and again June 13 (Reggie Gross), you can be sure that he will get that work. But now, he doesn't have to knock them out to win. He just has to win.

(Los Angeles Times)

"That’s right, folks, my robust opinions are in The Times while the Manassa Mauler had to harrumph in the obscure New York Amsterdam News. How appropriate. For years I pursued frightened opponents around the world before winning the heavyweight championship at age thirty. Jack Dempsey got his title young and spent the next seven years dodging formidable black fighters, pummeling white stiffs, and fooling around in Hollywood. I don’t begrudge him the latter, but when a man’s most significant victories come over hundred-ten-pound starlets, he’s no champ, at least in the ring. And, please, disregard those who say I was bad as Dempsey in denying black fighters opportunities. I only did that after I became champ. At least I fought my brothers while I ascended.

Study the record. Jack Dempsey, already a lazy titleholder, didn’t fight for three years before skinny Gene Tunney peppered him ten rounds. Dempsey was then an old man at thirty-one. At that stage I kept getting better. That’s why, if Dempsey had given me a shot in 1919, when I was only forty-one, I’d have boxed and confused him and made him stumble around the ring before I dropped the hammer. But of course Jack Dempsey wouldn’t fight me then. Maybe he will now. He’s only forty-six and I’m sixty-three and been losing most of my fights for years.

Joe Louis also irritates me. I don’t know why black folks cheer such an inarticulate guy. They must not remember. If I were twenty-five years younger, I’d tattoo the Brown Bomber."

(1941 column by former heavyweight champion Jack Johnson published in The New York Times.)

I went all over Harlem searching for Sam Langford. Nobody even knew the name. Nobody had heard of him. Finally, someone said "You know, when I was at Amherst I played against Frtiz Pollard, a Negro from Brown. Find him. Maybe he can help."

I went back to 125th Street and asked for Pollard and was told "Oh, sure, he's a booking agent. He books Negro acts into all the Negro theaters"

I found Pollard and said "Look, I want to find Sam Langford. Do you know anything about him?" - He didn't. But I figured he could still help me. I wrote a piece about him, as a matter of fact, to butter him up. It wasn't really one of the series because there wasn't much to write about him. Anyhow, one day he said, "Let's go to the ration office" This was during the war and he meant the place where you get your ration books to buy a pound of meat and so on. We went down there. They had never heard of Langford.
"Well," Pollard said, "let's go over to the welfare office." - At welfare they said "Yes, Langford used to come in. He used to be on welfare."

This was the first lead I had, after almost a month. So we knew Langford was somewhere in the area. We left, and as I was walking with Pollard down Lenox Avenue, he said "Let's go in here" It was a butcher shop. Pollard said, "I know this fellow. He's a great sports fan."

The butcher was a white man. Pollard asked him if he had ever heard of Sam Langford. The man said "Sure, he comes in here every day. I give him pig's feet. He lives around the corner."
That's where we found him, in a terrible, terrible old room. He was blind of course. I knocked on his door, this rickety old door, and I said "Sam?"...and this voice says "Yes, c'mon in"
We went in. I could see by the light through the door that he was reaching for a string to turn on the light above him. He was sitting on this bed, the only thing in the room. There was a tiny little window facing on to the courtyard.

I sat and talked with him. The stench in the place was awful. He was so cheerful, laughing all the time. Of course, he didn't know me from Adam. I told him who I was. He asked if I knew all the old people he used to know. We talked and talked. He told me he had been on and off welfare so much the welfare office had lost track of him.
I went back to the office and wrote a piece that night. It ran the next morning. It was quite a short piece, no more than a thousand words. When I saw it in the paper I said to myself, "My God, what a terrible job I've done."

But then I was deluged with money. Every day came dozens and dozens of letters with postage stamps and dollar bills and two-dollar bills, and quaters wrapped in bits of paper. The piece had been picked up by the Associated Press and put on the wire. So this stuff was coming in from all over the country.
This was early in December, and at Christmas I went back to see him again and do another piece. I neglected my family to go up there. By this time we had all this money, and I bought him a guitar, a box of cigars, a bottle of gin, all that stuff. He loved to take a slug of gin. He never took much.

Sam was wonderful, and there was this one wonderful touch. He was blind, remember, but he said, "I got a little money now. Buy me a couple of candles, will you?"
He fished into his pocket and gave me a quarter. "I want you to light the candles. I can't see them. But I want the candles lit for Christmas."

The christmas story turned out to be better than the other. In anthologies they put the two stories together because they supplement one another. They put a title on it, "A dark man laughs" It's in a dozen or so anthologies.

I wrote five pieces on Sam altogether, and we raised twelve thousand dollars. We got a lot of pleasure out of the Langford story and the organization of the fund.

Sam was such a wonderful person. There was no evil in him. Nothing but sweetness. He had no grudge against anybody. The only person he didn't like was Harry Wills. He kept telling me, "Don't you accept nothing from Harry Wills. I don't want anything from Harry Wills."
Sam had fought Wills nineteen times, but he couldn't fight for the title. No Negroes were fighting for titles back then. By the time Jack Johnson was champion and Negroes were beginning to be accepted for big bouts, Sam was practically blind. He got that lime stuff in one eye, and the eye was gone. But he still fought on. He fought at 160 pounds. Fought the heavyweights too.

Sam and I were friends until he died. We got about a hundred dollars a month for him, which was plenty at the time. He got more and more feeble and then he got diabetes very bad. He kept telling me "I'm going back to Boston". He had a friend up there, a fellow who ran a pub. He finally came down and got Sam and put him in a nursing home. There was enough money to pay his way up there. That's where Sam died.
There was one thing I forgot. Sam is noted for calling everyone "Chief" and I forgot to put that in the story. The first thing I heard him say was "C'mon in, Chief."

The story was not a straight job of reporting. For the facts about Sam, you could say "There he is. He's forgotten. He's blind. He hasn't got any money. And he's very cheerful about it." That's all there is to it, that would be the whole story, if you were just using facts. But this kind of feature reporting is different.

By Al Laney


..............................


From The New York Times - Feb 3rd 1992...

"Al Laney, a sportswriter for more than four decades, died last Sunday at his retirement home, the Fellowship Community, in Spring Valley. He was 92 years old.

In 1924, Mr. Laney went to Paris for the European edition of the New York Herald Tribune and worked there until 1930, when he went to New York to work for The Herald Tribune. In New York, he covered baseball, tennis and golf.

He is survived by a son, Michael Laney of Spring Valley."

Jan 17, 1954. New York.

Sandy Saddler, the featherweight champ, goes to Ft. Jay Monday to work out his last three months in the Army Confident he still can handle anybody in his division.

The lanky 5 foot 7" New Yorker gave little Billy Bossio, a 5 foot 1" halfpint, a solid going over last night in his first start in 22 months.

Saddler, sleek at 130 1/2 pounds, stopped Bossio in 2:35 of the ninth round of a non-title go at St Nicholas Arena after dropping him twice for automatic eight counts in the third and the ninth. The second knockdown was actually more of a push than a punch.

"I wasn't sharp, I guess" said saddler. "But it felt good to be in there again."

At 130 1/2 pounds, Sandy was only 4 1/2 pounds over the class limit. Bossio weighed 128.

Bossio, a 5-1 underdog was the peoples' choice with the crowd of 1,902 who paid $4,228 to see the nationally televised bout.

(Times Daily)

Dick Madden, young Boston heavyweight, shared Max Baer's mood for good, clean fun last night and they put on one of the most amusing travestries a Boston boxing crowd ever witnessed.

The heavyweight champion was wearing his motion picture ring costume and was eager to provide comedy. His hilarious antics had the over-flow crowd of 4,000 in hysterics all through the four round skit.

Max reeled and slipped, walked bow-legged and acted punch drunk from Madden's futile efforts to hit him. In the second round Madden became a bit serious but he desisted when Max rapped him on the jaw a few times and reminded him he was forgetting his lines.

The champion got a great kick out of his performance but his 239-pound brother Jacob, known as 'Buddy', ran into an unexpected setback. In a four round bout with the veteran Babe Hunt of Ponca City, Oklahoma., Young Baer was soundly drubbed.

(The Miami News - Jan 11, 1935)

*This was one of five exhibition bouts that Baer had in January 1935

June 20, 1940. New York. - Arturo Godoy, the Chilean challenger, walks to his dressing room after a futile fight to lift Joe Louis' heavyweight title. Arturo weathered almost seven rounds at Yankee Stadium without much damage; using the same crouch and cling tactics which carried him through 15 rounds of his first fight with the Brown Bomber. But Joe caught him right as the seventh round was ending. Arturo dropped. From then on it was a question of time, and not much time either. Arturo was dropped twice in the next round and referee Billy Cavanaugh stopped the bout to award Joe Louis technical knockout victory in one minute 24 seconds of the eighth round. Arturo may not have a title-but he is not entirely undecorated-notice his battered face.

From the CBS YouTube page...

Ezzard Charles vs. Lee Oma - World Heavyweight Title - 1951-01-12 - Extended Highlights

Immediately following the fight, a bitter Cincinnati Cobra was irritated because of the boos and catcalls yelled at him after the fight, and because he felt he was not getting the credit that he deserved, even after a convincing win over Joe Louis. In truth, Ezzard was not getting the credit he deserved, primarily because he was fighting in the shadow of the great Joe Louis. "I'll keep on fighting and I'll keep on winning and then maybe the people will give me full recognition as champion. Maybe I'll show them more next time" Ezzard said.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sf2XzmPtcMk

15th Nov 1940.

"In New York's most riotous ring brawl in years, young Al (Bummy) Davis was disqualified for repeated fouling tonight in the 2nd round of his scheduled 10 round non-title bout with welterweight champion Fritzie Zivic. In the opening session, Zivic battered the floundering Davis about the ring and hit him so hard with a right to the chin that Davis half sank to the canvas, supporting himself on his gloves, with one knee also touching the canvas. Davis was up without a count. In the 2nd round, referee Billy Cavanaugh warned Davis at least four times that he would DQ him if he continued fouling. But Al kept pegging away with his steaming left hook at the champiuon's groin. The fans were screaming, "Foul, foul. Throw him out." And that's what Cavanaugh finally did at 2:34 of the turbulent 2nd round. When Cavanaugh pulled the gladiators apart and motioned Davis to his corner, Davis became almost insane with rage. He tore after Zivic, despite the referee's warding arms, with Zivic desperately trying to fight back. Zivic's manager Luke Carney, joined the fray, then two uniformed policemen leaped into the ring, as newspapers, magazines, and peanut bags showered into the ring." -United Press

"That Zivic is a quittin' bum, he gave me the works and then deliberately stepped into my body punches to make them appear foul. I hit him in the belly and he quit." -Al (Bummy) Davis

"The first two low blows didn't hurt much because my protector caught them. But the third was an uppercut that hurt terribly. I tried to fight back but about every third punch was down in my groin. I was almost paralyzed." -Fritzie Zivic

"I can't talk about rules now because Davis threw them all out the window. We won't need Al Davis anymore in New York. You can say for me that Davis will be barred from NY state for life, and I mean it." -Bill Brown, Commissioner of the NYSAC.

In the continuing series, just for fun, the next fantasy fight report kindly passed to CBS courtesy of Jimmy Krug (Jersey-Jim), theboxingmagazine.com

Sugar Ray Robinson vs. Roy Jones, Jr.

........................................

There’s electricity in the air tonight as the referee Carlos Berrocal sends Robinson and Jones back to their respective corners… we are moments away from one of the most anticipated fights of the past month of this tournament.

And there’s the bell!

Round 1

Robinson and Jones meet in center ring. Ray goes to the body. That punch was caught on the arm by Roy Jones. Jones doubles up with the jab. The second one gets through! Robinson slips a right and scores with a straight left. Robinson strikes with a fast two punch combination and Jones misses with the counter!

They’re trading punches! Blazing speed on display by both fighters!

You can see the intensity in their eyes. Both men feinting and moving – looking for openings.

There’s the bell. That’ll do it for a very close opening round!

............

Round 2

Ray Robinson opens up the 2nd round with a hard, fast left to the head of Jones. Robinson can strike like a cobra at times… and so can Jones. A hard combination from Ray Robinson jolts Roy Jones! Jones fires back but Robinson was already out of range. You can see a little smile on Jones face. He felt those punches.

Robinson scores well with a combination to the body! Ray Robinson with a right to the head!

That’ll do it for the 2nd. Good round for Ray Robinson.

Neither fighter is marked. Each round is like a suspense novel right now… wondering how this one is going to play out.

We’ll be back for the 3rd in just a moment.

..............

Round 3

Welcome to the 3rd… and Roy Jones snaps Robinson’s head back with a hard jab! Robinson misses with a hook and Jones connects with a uppercut that lands flush. Robinson smiles at Jones. He felt that one.

Jones rips Robinson to the body with a savage combination!! Oh! Another big right lands to the head! Robinson wobbles!!

Robinson fires back with a four-punch combination!!

The fans are roaring their approval! And there’s the bell to end the 3rd round.

If we look at that replay again… look at those punches to Robinson’s body! Roy Jones Jr. threw those punches with some bad intentions and I’m surprised Robinson didn’t at least drop to a knee after taking those thunderous shots!

We’ll be back in just a moment.

.............

Round 4

Roy Jones and Ray Robinson are starting to light it up out there. We’ve got a long way to go… but maybe not! We’re in the 4th. Roy with a cracking right hand!! Robinson seemed a little surprised by that last shot! Jones has the power to Robinson’s attention. We’ve established that, now.

Jones with a huge right hand!

Robinson counters with a left to the body. Robinson absorbed that punch without buckling somehow. He can’t keep taking that shots all night without getting into trouble, though!

Robinson goes to the body.

Roy Jones scores with a fast combination downstairs at the bell! Another good round for Jones.

.............

Round 5

Roy Jones Jr. backs Robinson up with a blazing combination of punches to the head and body! It seems like Jones’ unnatural speed is giving Ray Robinson some problems! Jones rocks Robinson with a hard right hand and Robinson ties him up! Here comes Carlos Berrocal to separate them. He’s had hardly nothing to do tonight so far.

Robinson scores with a fast right hand over the top.

That punch wobbled Jones!! Robinson scores with a combination to the body! They exchange another blaze of leather and the crowd rises to their feet!! I can’t even hear myself talking… the sound is deafening!

Robinson rocks Jones with a left hook!

Jones with a booming right hand!

Robinson staggers back into the corner! He’s hurt! There’s the bell to end the 5th and Carlos Berrocal jumps between the fighters. Great, great round!

........................

Round 6

Roy Jones blocks a right hand from Ray Robinson. Jones scores with a hard right hand – right on the button. You can feel the momentum once again shifting towards Jones as it has many times already for him in this tournament.

Robinson misses with a left. Both fighters have slowed the pace down noticeably this round. Robinson has taken a few big shots over the last few rounds, but there’s no visible damage.

Jones lands another booming left hook! Oh, that shot sent sweat flying from Robinson’s head into the third row!

Robinson’s looking for the openings, but he’s just not connecting.

That’ll do it for round 6.

.................

Round 7

Robinson and Jones trade combinations. Nice way to open a round. Ray lands a left. Roy with a straight right hand. Roy takes a right hand high on the head. He was relaxing for the first time in this fight, letting his left hand drop below his waist and Robinson made him pay.

We’re just about at the midway point of this scheduled 15 rounder.

Roy scores to the body of Robinson with a hook. Ray Robinson returns fire – scoring well to the head.

They trade right hands at the bell!

A close round and difficult one to score.

.................

Round 8

Roy Jones Jr. – stringing together a beautiful salvo of punches! Robinson takes them well… but Robinson must be falling behind on the scorecards by now. He’s needs to start stepping it up! Another hard combination scores for Roy Jones Jr. Robinson seems to have been taken out of his rhythm. You can hear the buzz around the arena… we may be seeing a huge upset here tonight!

Jones scores with a left at the bell!

...............

Round 9

Robinson’s left eye is starting to swell noticeably! The camera went into his corner in between rounds and you could see the swelling. They’re out for the 9th! Jones lands a big hook that lands flush! Robinson scores with a right to the body.

Robinson lands a big right hand! Jones wobbles!! That punch hurt Roy Jones Jr.!!

Ray Robinson lands to the head and body! Ray Robinson’s got Roy Jones Jr. in trouble! Robinson scores with a combination! Robinson with another combination! He’s backed Jones into the corner!!

Ray Robinson lands a booming right hand at the bell! That was the best round, possibly in this fight, for Sugar Ray Robinson!

.................

Round 10

Robinson’s out fast for the 10th. He fires several rockets into Jones’ midsection. Jones took them well. Jones turns Robinson’s head with a screaming left hook! Robinson digs in and blasts a left hand off the side of Jones’ rib cage! They’re letting it fly now!

Another combination scores from Robinson! Robinson finished up with a hook to the head! He rocked Jones with that hook! Robinson blasts Jones with two hard rights to the head!!

Jones catches Ray with a booming right hand as Ray was moving in!

They’re trading their biggest guns in ring center as the bell ends the 10th! Wow, they were shooting it out as the 10th round came to its end!

.................

Round 11

We’re in the 11th. These are the championship rounds. Robinson is no stranger to 15 rounds. Roy Jones never had to go beyond the 12th during his career. But he looks to be in great shape. Robinson just rocked Jones with a hard right to the head!

Robinson scores with a hard right to the body!

Jones returns fire with a smoking combination to Robinson’s body!

Jones with another combination!!

Robinson hooks to the head.

Down goes Roy Jones, Jr!! That hook caught Jones flush on the chin and down he goes!

Wait... he's getting up

1

2

Jones is back on his feet! He looks a little groggy and referee Carlos Berrocal is taking a long close look at Jones.

Okay, he's going to let this one continue!

Here comes Robinson! Ray Robinson misses with a right hand. He scores with a combination downstairs... and there's the bell!

Ray Robinson's turning up the heat - here in the championship rounds.

They’re working on Jones in the corner. You can see the swelling now appearing around his left eye. That was a big round for Ray Robinson. It’ll be interesting to see if he can turn this fight around.

....................

Round 12

Both fighters seem tired as we’re underway in the 12th. Robinson and Jones are both dealing with swelling around their eyes. Jones lands first. Jones with a heavy combination downstairs. Those punches backed Robinson up. Ray lands a hook upstairs. Jones took it well. Jones scores with a right… Robinson scores with a right hand of his own.

They tie up along the ropes. Carlos Berrocal comes and separates them.

They’re both moving slow. And they clinch again. No boos coming from the crowd, though. Robinson and Jones are keeping the fans on the edge of their seats tonight!

That’ll do it for the 12th!

.................

Round 13

Jones and Robinson are both dealing with noticeable swelling around their left eyes round thirteen gets underway. Roy Jones scores to the body. Robinson scores with a right hand to the head. Jones scores with an uppercut, Robinson counters with a straight left!

Roy Jones nails Ray with a booming hook! Jones with another left to the body! Robinson lands a right hand upstairs!

The bell ends the 13th, and they’re standing toe-to-toe as the round ends! I’d give that round to Roy Jones. There are only two rounds left. The winner of this fight moves to the finals. It’s all on the line with only six minutes remaining!

........................

Round 14

Robinson and Jones are out fast for the 14th round. They exchange right hands. Nice clean punches, no clear advantage to either fight. Jones lands a nice right hand from the outside. They're circling one another.

Robinson steps in with a hard right hand to the body. Jones counters upstairs with a combination... Robinson counters Jones counters with a blazing hook, uppercut!

The crowd's mesmerized by the skills of these two fighters!! Jones scores with a hard right to the head of Robinson!

Robinson scores with a hard left to the head of Jones! Everyone's on their feet cheering wildly as Robinson and Jones bring down the house!!

There's the bell and that'll do it for the 14th round. Only one round remaining... and you've gotta wonder how the judges have been scoring this fight. Robinson may be behind and the whole tournament is riding on this final round for these two fighters!

Looking back over the past rounds and I don’t know… Roy Jones Jr. may just be looking at the ultimate upset – defeating Ray Robinson on points with only 3 minutes to go.

.................

Round 15

Carlos Berrocal has Sugar Ray Robinson and Roy Jones Jr. touch gloves in ring center for this – the 15th and final round of their amazing matchup tonight!

Roy Jones lands a hard right cross! That shot wobbles Robinson momentarily! Robinson scores with a left to the midsection. Roy Jones rips Robinson’s head back with a booming uppercut! Jones scores with a hard right to Robinson’s head! Roy Jones is bringing on the pain in the 15th and final round!

Ray Robinson slips a hook and snaps Jones’ head back with a hard uppercut on the inside! Robinson blasts a blur of punches off Jones’ body!!

Jones nails Roy Jones with a hard hook to the head. The crowd’s on its feet for the final shootout of the night!!

Robinson nails Jones with a big left hook on the chin!
Robinson with another hook!

Robinson with another!!!
Jones is hurt!! Jones is hurt!!

Robinson rips Jones with a huge right hand to the head! Jones staggers back against the ropes! Robinson scores with a combination! Robinson scores with another combination! Robinson is raining punch after punch after punch down up Jones!!
Jones hands are coming down! Robinson rips into Jones with a left… two rights, another left… Robinson with an uppercut!! Jones can no longer defend himself!! Robinson lands punch after punch after punch!!

That’s it!!

Berrocal jumps in as Jones is out on his feet!! Two seconds left in the round and Sugar Ray Robinson has stopped Roy Jones Jr. in the 15th and final round!

I can hardly believe my eyes! What an incredible finish by one of the greatest fighters to ever step through the ropes!

We’ll be back in just a moment!

..............

I just had a moment to check out the scorecards of the judges at ringside. One had Robinson up by 2 rounds going into the 15th. Another had Jones ahead by 5 rounds. And the last judge had Jones ahead by one round!

We were looking at a majority draw had Jones been able to survive the round. The referee Carlos Berrocal could have stopped the fight a little sooner than he did and no one would have complained, though. Jones collapsed in the corner as soon as Berrocal halted this fight. He was definitely OUT.

This fight does nothing short of adding to the legend of P4P King, Ray Robinson.

What a great finish to this fight!

"Cus had wanted me to beat him so bad," he said.

He explained how D'Amato took him and Jay Bright, a longtime member of the inner circle, from their home in Catskill, N.Y., to Albany to watch on closed circuit as Holmes retained the title in a 1981 destruction of the faded Muhammad Ali. He even recalled the exact date: Oct. 2.

"I was offended by how bad he beat up Ali," he said. "When we drove home to Catskill [about an hour from Albany], nobody in the car said a word, we were all so upset. The next morning, Cus was on the phone with Muhammad Ali after taking this shellacking from Holmes. He said to Ali, 'I have this young black kid who is going to be heavyweight champion someday and I want you to talk to him.'"

The young black kid got on the phone and told Ali, "'When I grow up, I'll fight Holmes and I'll get him back for you.' He was 14 years old.

When he did meet Holmes seven years later, Ali was a guest at the fight and whispered to him beforehand, "Remember what you said -- get him for me."

From the CBS YouTube page.

Muhammad Ali v Tommy Hearns short sparring exhibition clip

The Bahamas, 1981, while Ali was in preparation for Trevor Berbick.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3-Ik77QyAAw

RETIRED boxer Johnny Melfah took on some of Britain’s most famous fighters during his long sporting career in sparring contests and title fights.

The Gloucester pugilist, now 53, is now facing his biggest battle yet as he fights back against debilitating disorder Lupus.

Johnny, from Robinswood, took on Herol ‘Bomber’ Graham, Nicky Piper, the Dark Destroyer Nigel Benn and his middleweight rival Chris Eubank at the Royal Albert Hall in 1989, losing in four rounds.

In a decade of fighting, Johnny rubbed shoulders with some of the best fighters in a golden generation of British boxing.

He finally retired in 1994 after two bruising encounters with Steve Collins in a super middleweight eliminator bout for a shot at the world title. Johnny then went on to coach boys in the art of boxing at the Viking Club in Coney Hill.

(The Gloucester Citizen)

.............................................


This week Johnny spoke with boxing journalist Steve Bunce (as part of his ESPN boxing podcast) about his career...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L2ORHackhIk

When Stanley Ketchel dispatched Mike “Twin” Sullivan in a single round, a man previously stopped by only Joe Gans over 10 and 15 rounds, big brother Jack “Twin” Sullivan tried to restore the family reputation. The business became personal.

“From a fight fan’s point of view nothing better than this Sullivan-Ketchel match could possibly be offered in the pugilistic line. Ketchel, the most spectacular knocker-outer of the current crop, is to hook up with the larger of the famous Boston Twins…the winner of the scrap will be the bona fide champion…to add a bit of spice to this Sullivan will be seeking revenge…to wipe the Ketchel blot off the family escutcheon.” - The LA Herald.

Sullivan entered the ring first, taking up the northwest corner, the sun to his back. Ketchel, arriving moments later, stalked across to his opponent and confronted him. Sullivan moved to the other corner. Ketchel had enforced his right to chose which corner he would take his rest in, having won the pre-fight toss.

They began at a stiff pace. Ketchel set it, fighting directly, determinedly, but missing often. Sullivan broke into a smile and eventually a laugh as Ketchel repeatedly missed him. Ketchel took the first round on his aggressive pursuit of his elusive opponent and Sullivan finished the round as cheerily as he had begun it, seemingly fighting his own fight. Observers noticed a thin trail of blood coming from Sullivan’s nose as he returned to his stool, squinting at Ketchel through the blazing sun.

The second round was rougher, Ketchel rattling Sullivan’s kidneys in a prolonged clinch, Sullivan “lifting Stanley off his feet” with a huge right hand uppercut, blocking well against the punches that Ketchel brought back. By the third Ketchel was already hunting the body with both hands, Sullivan blocking well to the head, winking happily at his opponent when he managed to get one through. Sullivan seemed primed to take over in the fourth. “Ketchel was right on top of his man,” noted the LA Herald, “but was unable to land. Jack mystified Stanley with clever footwork as the later tried with both hands at the gong.” In the fifth Sullivan “laughed again as Ketchel missed yet another left to the body…feinted Ketchel out of position and they clinched.” In the 8th, Ketchel was cut again, this time over the left eye, which “made him vicious” and he drove Sullivan back to the ropes “missing wildly” with two lefts before slipping to the floor and being rattled at the bell by a returning left hook. Ketchel was winning rounds but at a terrible price. Meanwhile, boxing with great economy, Sullivan was tricking his way through the fight whilst Ketchel expended energy on wasted punches and rushes.

Round nine began quietly, Ketchel chasing Sullivan around the ring to little affect, some ineffective punching was exchanged. Half way through, Ketchel caught Sullivan a hard right-hand punch to the jaw and followed it with a left to the body. A genuinely two-handed fighter, he had landed his first flush combination. Sullivan’s response? To laugh once more. But this time he did not manage to escape, did not manage to counterpunch but instead got hit again, hard. And then again. Ketchel’s variety of attack cannot be overstated, he worked body and head with straight, hooked and uppercut punches and he seems in this round to have utterly destroyed the surety of Sullivan’s guard. Sullivan was still landing at the same rate – but Ketchel was no longer missing.

Sullivan finished the ninth staggering Ketchel with a shot to the chin. He ended the tenth with a “hurricane finish” forcing Ketchel back with headshots. He would not win another round. He would never be the same again. He would win only three of his next ten fights. He was being finished as a fighter. “One of the bloodiest contests seen in recent years” was all but settled. “For the next ten rounds Ketchel battered Sullivan about the ring severely punishing him about the head and body,” said The Herald. “He knew he was beaten many, many round before the end actually came but he saw no way he could get out of his predicament gracefully,” observed The San Francisco Call.

Indeed, Sullivan’s grace deserted him. He would be dropped five times in the coming rounds, four times by body blows, and each time he would attempt to claim a foul. Each time the referee dismissed the claims and Sullivan was forced to climb back into the furnace. When the end came in the 20th, it was pitiful. Forcing Sullivan to the ground with a straight left, Ketchel leapt upon the tortured great as soon as he rose and drove him down again with a left-right combination. Sullivan hauled himself up for once last try. Ketchel smashed through the guard with another left hook to the body and Sullivan fell once more. He shook his head. “No.”

When he came to his sense he tried to claim a foul once more. The referee dismissed him out of hand. Sullivan continued to make his case in a post-fight interview. His words were not carried far, likely because they held no truth, but possibly because Sullivan found it difficult to make himself understood -his lips were so grotesquely swollen he found it hard to talk.

(By, and courtesy of, Matt McGrain)

From the Classic Boxing Society YouTube page...

HENRY ARMSTRONG VS. FRITZIE ZIVIC II - JAN 17th 1941 - Original Radio Broadcast with updated audio preview...

"A great fighter went over the fistic horizon last night in Madison Square Garden. Henry Armstrong, the gallant, tornadic Hammering Hank of another day whose little fists pounded him to the distinction of being the ring's only exponent to hold three titles at the same time, was knocked out in 12 rounds of savage fighting....
"The end came after 52 seconds of the 12th round.... Referee Arthur Donovan mercifully ended the battle after twice having entreated the gallant Armstrong to retire, only to have his pleas rejected. Once, after the tenth round, Donovan solemnly notified Armstrong that he would give him on more round. Armstrong retorted to the warning with a flash of the fighting demon of old. It was as if he wanted to demonstrate that, though battered and bruised, cut and bleeding, his eyes puffed and cut, he still had plenty of fight left.
"Through the 11th round he pulled the crowd to its feet in as glorious a rally as this observer has seen in 25 years of attendances at these ring battles. The former champion hammered Zivic all over the ring. He pelted the title-holder with lefts and rights to the body, plied him with savage thrusts of the left and wicked right smashes to the face and head. Repeatedly Armstrong grazed the jaw with desperate rights, blows with which he hoped to turn the tide of crushing defeat that was engulfing him. For two minutes Armstrong went beserk. He was a fighting maniac in the one flash he gave of the Hammering Henry of old.
"It was glorious, spectacular while it lasted. Zivic was too busy trying to defend himself in this unlooked-for charge to launch a counterfire. But then Zivic stepped to the attack and through the last minute of the 11th round he hammered and punched Armstrong mercilessly with short, choppy but stinging lefts and rights that ripped open old wounds and started a flow of blood.
[Examined by the doctor between rounds Armstrong was allowed to continue and he] "started the 12th as if to press his dynamic recovery. But he had given all his strength in that 11th round stand. Hammering Henry shuffled into a barrage of straight lefts, a criss-cross fire of lefts and rights, punishing, cutting blows. He tried a roundhouse right for the jaw, missed and slipped. Up he came, facing his foe, charging recklessly, only to be pelted by Zivic's shower of blows. When Donovan realized what Armstrong must have known but would not admit, the referee stepped between the fighters and waved an end to the battle, and Armstrong's career."

(James P. Douglas, New York Times)

Fantasy fight report kindly passed to CBS courtesy of Jimmy Krug (Jersey-Jim), theboxingmagazine.com

Ben Foord, perhaps the most tragic figure in the history of South African Boxing, was born on January 21, 1913, in Vrede and grew up in Ladysmith. As a teenager, Foord was a gifted athlete, excelling in rugby, swimming, and track and field. He also had a pronounced daredevil streak and it was this, perhaps, that led him to dabble in boxing. After ditching a humdrum career in, of all pursuits, hair styling, Foord found adventure as a lifeguard in Durban. His next career choice–prizefighting–suggests just how much Foord enjoyed being on the dangerous edge of things. At nearly 6’ 3” and 208 pounds, Foord had the kind of physique even the Great Sandow might have admired, but South Africa offered little in terms of sparring and training for an aspiring boxer.

After an unexceptional amateur career, Foord turned pro in 1932 and soon moved to London in order to get bigger fights and bigger thrills. In addition to the hazards found between the ropes, Foord regularly accepted wagers on risky feats outside of the ring, like high diving from bridges. Once, Foord swam the Thames River from Windsor Bridge in under a minute. Two auto wrecks in three years–including one that left a passing cyclist dead–underscored his recklessness and his practical jokes (Foord, like Baer, was an incorrigible prankster) often included firearms as props.

For all his size and athleticism, Foord cared little for the austere rigors of training. He preferred golf to the speedbag and donning a smoking jacket to slipping on mitts. “As far as I am concerned,” his brother, Stephen Foord, told Chris Greyvenstein, “Ben regarded even boxing as just an easy way to make money and a good way to impress the fair sex.” Impress the fair sex he did; Foord was soon a-man-about-town and his gallivanting kept gossip columnists sleepless with overwork.

From 1932 to 1934 Foord was considered a raw but promising talent, one whose powerful right hand and sheer athleticism made some observers rhapsodize. “I regard Foord as the best prospective candidate for heavyweight honors this country has seen for years,” wrote former flyweight champion Jimmy Wilde. Foord was erratic, certainly, but his potential box office appeal could not be underestimated; powerful, dapper, and with matinee idol looks to boot, Foord resembled a marquee heavyweight. In fact, he resembled Max Baer, and crowds flocked to see the debonair South African.

Although Foord had earned a measure of fame on the society pages, his career was largely unremarkable. Still, he was undefeated during his campaign in the UK and after pounding out a decision over future British Heavyweight champion Jack London on November 6, 1933, he was signed to face dangerous Jack Petersen at Royal Albert Hall. On March 8, 1934, Foord fought courageously against the talented Welshman in a sadistic brawl before succumbing in the thirteenth round. Foord cut Petersen early in the fight and rocked him with several overhand rights. Petersen dropped Foord twice in the fourth round, but Foord, despite the beating he was taking, responded with spiteful blows of his own. Finally, after several more rounds of pitiless give and take, Foord was knocked out of the ring in the thirteenth round. Somehow he managed to beat the count, but the fight was stopped after Petersen began teeing off on his defenseless opponent. “No words of mine can tell of his enormous courage,” Petersen praised Foord after the match. “No man can ever put up a gamer fight. I felt sorry for Foord, and could scarcely force down the lump in my throat as I helped him back to his corner. If the day comes that I must take a beating so terrible, may I take it like he did.” Foord showed incredible resilience and courage during his breathtaking bout with Petersen. It was enough, in fact, to make him a star. His performance electrified the crowd and left Trevor Wignall, reporting for the Daily Express, sounding like a minor Edwardian poet: “Watching Foord I was thrilled as never before by a heavyweight bout and felt nothing could stop him but death.”

Over the next year his popularity grew even as the quality of his performances diminished. Foord captured the South African Heavyweight title in Cape Town in June 1934, but returned to London as casual as ever and lost dreary bouts to Gunnar Barlund, Maurice Strickland, and Roy Lazer. In 1936, however, Foord, spurred on by marriage to a beautiful socialite, momentarily discovered ambition and ran off a string of victories. Among the fighters he defeated were Larry Gaines, Roy Lazer in a rematch, and former light heavyweight champion Tommy Loughran. He capped off a dramatic year by annihilating Jack Petersen in only three rounds on August 17, 1936, to win the British Empire and British Heavyweight titles. This would prove to be the peak of his career, as Foord went on to lose decisions to Walter Neusel and Tommy Farr. By the time Foord signed to fight Max Baer he was hoping to reverse a losing streak.

A crowd of over 8,000 watched these two idiosyncratic boxers meet at Harrringray on May 27, 1937. Foord entered the ring with a record of 35-9-4, while Baer, coming off of his loss to Tommy Farr, was 61-11. The Sunday Times all but sniffed at the bout: “And because one has no confidence in the true fighting fitness of either, however much they may have “trained” in camp, it seems a waste of energy to attempt a reasoned estimate of their respective chances on this occasion and in the future.”

After the fight, however, the British press was a little more feverish. “If ever a man came near to meeting his death in the ring,” wrote Peter Wilson of The Daily Mirror, “Foord did at the hands of Max Baer, who seemed to turn, in a twinkling, from a strutting, grimacing playboy to a snarling wild beast.”

The opening bell rang and the fighters met at centre ring. Barely a minute into the first round, Foord landed his fearsome right hand on target, but Baer, with a chin as sturdy as a dolmen, shrugged it off and ploughed forward with short hooks in the clinches and looping punches from outside. In the second round, Baer dropped Foord twice with crushing rights and hammered Foord against the ropes. Somehow the woozy South African managed to survive until the bell.

For the next few rounds Foord utilized his jab while Baer alternated between punching and capering. The crowd chuckled as “Madcap Maxie” barked, hitched up his trunks, and tossed the kind of haymakers typically seen in slapstick comedies. In between routines, however, Baer went to work and whacked Foord around the ring like a shuttlecock. Nearly every blow he landed shook Foord to his boots, and, to the delight of the crowd, even referee Jack Hart took a clout from an inaccurate Baer.

By the eighth round, Foord, undertrained to perfection, was through. Disoriented, exhausted, and bloodied, he staggered to the wrong corner after the bell and plopped onto his stool. Baer, sensing blood, stormed out at the start of the ninth. Two quick rights and Foord was down. When he rose, another bombardment dropped him again like an anchor thrown from the side of a deck. He listened to the count flat on his back before using the ropes as a ladder and hauling himself, nearly knock-kneed, to his feet. Baer, determined to show the world that he was still a contender, moved in for the finish. A vicious combination sent a wobbly Foord sprawling for the last time with blood dripping from his ear. As soon as the fight was stopped, Baer rushed across the ring and knelt by his stricken opponent. He cradled Foord in his arms like a baby. “I have rarely seen a man more genuinely moved in the ring,” noted Peter Wilson at ringside. Perhaps Baer saw Frankie Campbell (a previous opponent who died from injuries fighting Baer) in the ring that night; or, perhaps, with the incredible similarities Baer shared with Foord, he saw himself.

Ben Foord continued his disappointing career with little success but lots of bruises following his loss to Baer, finally retiring in 1938 after being knocked clear out of the ring by George James in White City. Foord then shocked the British public by confessing that he had suffered from amnesia after his last few bouts. “Looking back,” Foord wrote in a syndicated article, “I know it was Max Baer who started the trouble. He was by far the hardest hitter I ever met. Dimly I remember him pillowing my head on his lap after he had knocked me down for the last time. He hit me on the chin with punches I felt for days, but I stuck it.”

Less than a year later, despite concerns about his health, Foord returned to the ring in South Africa before quitting to join the army. Home on furlough in 1942, Foord played a prank on his wife, Phyllis, that ended tragically. After sneaking up on her with a pistol and pretending to be a desperado, Foord twirled the gun Old West style and accidentally shot himself in the face. He was 29 years old when he died.

(by Carlos Acevedo)

Dempsey never had a “boxing match” with anyone in his life. It was always a fight. He began talking about one of the fights, one of the toughest. It was a ‘fight he lost to a roughneck puncher named Johnny Sudenberg in Goldfield, Nevada, in 1915. Dempsey was 20 years old then, not fully grown, weighing 165 pounds. He had been hopping freights, working in mines, traveling all over Utah, Colorado, Ne­vada, trying to get into the ring against anyone who would fight him.

Sudenberg was a heavyweight, one of the most rugged and skilful the mining country had ever produced. Dempsey went up against him as a substitute for a fighter who had backed out. The promoters were worried, because Jack looked too small and seemed too green as a fighter. But Dempsey talked them into it.

He trained in a dive called the Northern Bar. His first sparring part­ner was a rough Indian pug named Kid Harrison. Dempsey, never easy on spar‑mates, knocked Harrison stiff one day and lost him. He took on an­other boy named Roy Moore. This one managed to stay on his feet during the training. Before the bout, Moore, who had seen Sudenberg fight, advised Dempsey not to start slugging it out with his opponent.
That went against Dempsey’s grain. He knew how to do only one thing, go in there and slug. The fight was held in the town dancehall. For three rounds, the two men stood toe to toe and tried to kill. each other with punches. The place was a madhouse of screaming miners and farmers. They had never seen anything like it.
“Johnny could hit,” Dempsey said. “From the fifth round on, I had no idea what was happening Sometimes there was a face in front of me. Some­times there was nothing. I just kept throwing my fists.”

The fight went ten rounds. Dempsey was on his feet when the bell rang, but for hours afterwards he didn’t know whether he had won or been knocked out. The fight went to Sudenberg on a decision. Dempsey dragged his bat­tered body and welted, shapeless face to a shack outside of town where he slept. When he woke up the next morning, he discovered that his man­ager had skipped off with the $100 Dempsey was to get for the fight. He was flat broke.

The beaten‑up kid fighter hung around town for a few days, then a wire came from a promoter in Tono­pah, Nevada, 30 miles away. Would Dempsey fight Johnny Sudenberg again? Dempsey’s answer was to start for Tonopah, walking. It was a walk over the mountains. He legged it 15 miles before he was picked up by a wagon. And ten days later, his face and body still swollen and bruised, Young Dempsey, as he was then known, climbed into the ring again against Sudenberg.

The second Dempsey‑Sudenberg fight was rougher than the first. In the first round, Dempsey floored Suden­berg seven times. Each time, Johnny bounced back and crashed into Demp­sey. Round after round wore on. One of the fighters had to retreat. It was Sudenberg. He began to back up, but as he went back, he kept belting away and gaining strength. Dempsey, not used to fighting in high altitudes, began to weaken. In the seventh round, Sudenberg brought up a right from the floor and knocked Dempsey flat on his back. Jack got ‑up. Suden­berg knocked him down again. Demp­sey took three knockdowns in that round, but kept on boring in for more.

The crowd watching that fight was as exhausted as the fighters. By the last round, with the two men still slugging at each other, they watched in silent, breathless awe. They had seen the greatest prizefight of their lives, probably one of the most brutal of all time. It was called a draw. Dempsey pulled himself across the ring at the final bell, put his arm around Johnny Sudenberg’s shoulders. They left the ring that way, support­ing each other.

“He was a fighter,” Dempsey said. “I really liked that guy.”

Those were the fights, dozens of them, that made Dempsey the kind of fighter he was. Hard, back‑breaking work and cruel jungle‑camp brawls developed Dempsey into the merciless, stalking killer he became in the ring Those who criticize Dempsey’s lust for mauling his opponents don’t realize that these were the only tac­tics he knew. The fighters of that day asked no quarter and gave none. To win, you had to be the tougher. You fought to prove how strong and mean you were.

(By Jack Sher)

Spurred by the success of his All-Time Heavyweight Fantasy Boxing Tournament, staged via computer in 1967, Promoter Murry Woroner came back the following year with an All-Time Fantasy Middleweight elimination that promised to answer some intriguing questions.

.........

The middleweight tournament was run in the same fashion as the heavyweight tourney. Sports writers around the country selected the 16 champions whom they considered the all-time greats, and there's plenty of room for argument over the fighters entered. The tournament kicked off on Sept 30 1968 with Carmen Basilio meeting  Marcel Cerdan, and other -first round bouts included Emlfe Griffith against Kid McCoy, Gene Fullmer against Stanley Ketchel, Tiger Flowers against Rocky Graziano, Nonpareil Jack Dempsey against Sugar Bay Robinson, Bob Fitzsimmons against Jake La Motta, Mickey Walker against Dick Tiger and  Harry Greb against Tony Zale.

"We sent questionnaires to about 500 writers," said Woroner, "and got about 300 replies. Frankly, I thought some fighters who were omitted should have been included. The writers were required to rate each fighter on 129 variables, on such as speed of foot, ability to take a punch, and accuracy, on a 1-10 scale. The fighters were matched by promoter Chris Dundee, manager Angelo Dundee and Nat Fleischer, publisher of Ring Magazine, and the material then was fed into a computer. "The idea started one night after I'd spent a couple of hours listening to arguments about what fighters were the best, who would have done what to whom" said Woroner. "I asked a friend who works for a computer company whether a tournament couldn't be arranged if data was obtained on the fighters. He said it could be done and we were on our way:" Besides the questionnaires, Woroner also got information by interviewing each living fighter in the tourney and getting all the facts he could from the World Boxing Historians and Ring Magazine. Woroner also spent a lot of time recording sound effects at actual fights, including punches landing, feet . scraping on the canvas, the timekeeper counting the knockdown and the crowd. ' The tapes of each-match are delivered to the stations in sealed containers two hours before fight tune so the results cannot be divulged in advance.

(The Ogden Standard-Examiner)

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The following are the results of Woroner’s Semi-Finals and Finals Match-ups!

Round 1:

Marcel Cerdan KO 4 Carmen Basilio

Emile Griffith W points Kid McCoy

Stanley Ketchel TKO 7 Gene Fullmer

Rocky Graziano KO 11 Tiger Flowers

Sugar Ray Robinson TKO 11 Jack "Nonpareil" Dempsey

Bob Fitzsimmons W points Jack La Motta

Mickey Walker KO 9 Dick Tiger

Harry Greb KO 14 Tony Zale

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Round 2:

Cerdan TKO 10 Griffith

Ketchel KO 11 Graziano

Robinson TKO 3 Fitzsimmons

Walker W points Greb

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Semifinals

Cerdan v. Ketchel
Robinson v. Walker

Cerdan-Ketchel: In 12 bloody rounds, Marcel Cerdan was floored 5 times and Stan Ketchel twice before the Michigan Mauler finally put the Ferocious Frenchman down for the big sleep at 2:08 of the 12th round. Cerdan was decked in the 7th, twice in the 9th, and twice in the 12th.

Winner: Ketchel, KO 12.


Robinson-Walker: The arms of Sugar Ray Robinson were a bit too long for the Toy Bulldog. Robinson set himself up for the all-time finals by outpointing Walker 145-141 in a close one.

Winner: Robinson.

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Final -
Sugar Ray Robinson v. Stanley Ketchel

Background: It was a duel made in promoters' heaven. Ray Robinson, the angelic boxing master, v. Stan Ketchel, the demonic fury, who fought as if every round put his life on the line. Ketchel had become a ring legend in 8 years. Robinson fought everybody and beat the greatest during a 25-year career.

Sugar Ray had an assortment of punches that would rival a soda fountain. Ketchel was as tough as homemade iron. Robinson's flickering feet and hands kept him in control of a fight. It was said that Ketchel could stop any man on any given evening. What would the computer have to say about it?

The fight: The real Sugar Ray Robinson listened to his computer image on the radio and said: "I kept ducking and blocking, feinting and moving. . . . I felt every punch."

His transistorized alter ego felt one especially in the 1st round when Ketchel surprised him with a right to the head. Robinson, down for one of the few times in his life, knew that he was in a fight.

Ketchel moved in to work on the body and Robinson used his reach to punish the little battler to the head. Robinson drew blood in the 3rd and kept it flowing. In the final rounds, knowing he needed a knockout to win, Ketchel unleashed a brutal attack, but Robinson's long arms and clever combinations kept him at bay. The officials gave the mythical all-time championship to Sugar Ray 147 to 139. Even though Robinson tilted the electrons in his favor in every round except the 1st and 8th, he never had Ketchel off his feet.

Winner and All-Time Middleweight Champion: Sugar Ray Robinson.

"What have we got to lose?" asked Jimmy Jacobs, Benitez' astute manager, before the fight. "If Wilfred beats Hamsho, then we fight for the middleweight title. If we lose, we'll still be the mandatory challenger to Hearns for the junior middleweight championship."

Al Certo thought Hamsho had an even better deal. Since the sudden death of Paddy Flood on March 28, Certo has been Hamsho's sole manager and trainer. "They are giving us a quarter million for fighting a bum, a myth," he told Hamsho. "You can forget about those three titles, about him being a superstar. That's all media hype. He fought only two good fighters, Sugar Ray Leonard and Hearns, and he lost to both [and lost the welterweight and junior middleweight titles, respectively]. He beat Carlos Palomino, but I think Palomino took the day off. It's going to be a piece of cake."

Since his marriage last January to Elizabeth Alonso, Benitez has split with his father, Gregorio, who had trained him since his first day in the gym, 16½ years ago. When Wilfred and his bride moved from Puerto Rico to New York, Gregorio closed his gym in Puerto Rico, but remained there. The father told the son, "You are married and you are a big man now. You know how to walk in New York City."

Benitez selected Victor Machado as his new trainer. Later, Cus D'Amato, who trained champions Floyd Patterson and José Torres, was brought in as an adviser. Benitez claimed, however, there was nothing the two men could teach him. "No, no, no," he said. "You know, my father showed me how to take care of myself when I am not with him. But my father is taking care of business in Puerto Rico. He's doing good. Someday he'll be in my corner again. Never should a son give his back to his father. I trust my father. I believe in him."

Benitez has always been a brilliant defensive fighter, sometimes at the expense of his offense. D'Amato delicately suggested a few changes that would improve Benitez' attack while taking nothing away from his defense. Benitez would listen intently and nod but....

"See, I know this fellow, Hamsho. He's an aggressive guy," D'Amato said. "He keeps coming, almost on a straight line. Now he can absorb the punches because he sees them coming. Now Benitez can punch a lot harder than people think. But he doesn't punch; he just comes out to outbox opponents with his smarts. I talked to him about moving side to side and punching. With Hamsho coming on a straight line, Benitez can move to the side and hit with maximum power and not be afraid of being hit, because Hamsho won't be in a position to hit him."

During training, Benitez showed no inclination to adopt D'Amato's suggestion. Instead he tried to refine a defense that was already perfect. Meanwhile, Hamsho, a 29-year-old native of Latakia, Syria, practiced doing what he does best: hitting other people. He recounts with great pride his prowess as a street brawler in Syria. "I fight so much that every day I need a new shirt, and every day they throw me out of school," he says. "I live in a tough neighborhood and sometimes it was hell. You fought to survive. You fought because you are bored. You were young, and you had nothing else to do."

Hamsho was thrown out of school in the fifth grade and went to work for his father in a grocery store. As an amateur boxer he won 31 fights, lost one. In 1969 he was the Syrian junior middleweight amateur champion. Then he went to work as a seaman. In 1974 he jumped ship in Providence and headed for New York City, where he hooked up with Flood at the Gramercy Gym on 14th Street.

"I noticed him because he was always trying to help somebody," says Hamsho, who now lives in Bayonne, N.J. "In the beginning he gave me hope. He kept me alive; he carried me. He saw something in me. It was my anger. In the gym I'd fight anybody who'd stand in front of me. Even heavyweights. I always had guts. He always told me to be a boxer, that I didn't have to beat up everybody I fought."

In his early professional career, before he got his green card as a resident alien in 1978, Hamsho fought under the names of Rocky Estafire, Mike Estaire and Mike Estafire. He lost his first pro fight in 1975, and then fought 34 times without a defeat until meeting Hagler in 1981.

"I've got no excuses for the Hagler fight," Hamsho says. "I was too cocky. I didn't respect the guy. I wasn't worried about his punching. I didn't listen to anybody. I caught every punch he threw. Now I listen to people."

When Flood died, of a cerebral hemorrhage, Hamsho was devastated. On Father's Day, he went to Flood's grave. "He was like a father to me," Hamsho said. "I'm not fighting Benitez to get another fight at Hagler. I'm fighting for me and for Paddy. I'm fighting because I want to prove I'm Number One, not by politics but because of my ability." For the final week of training, Certo brought in Al Salvani, a 73-year-old cornerman from California, for his skill as a cut man and for his counsel. Salvani went right to work. First he told Hamsho to forget about Benitez' head. "His head will feint you crazy," said Salvani. "Ignore it. All I want you to hit is anywhere between his collarbones and his belt buckle. And I want your punches short and all from underneath. Dig. They're the most damaging punches. And he thinks you are going to come straight at him. Don't. Move side to side. Annoy him. You don't go straight at nobody. Never."

After a week, Salvani shook his head as he watched Hamsho work. "He's a marvel," Salvani said. "You tell him something once and he does it like he's been doing it all his life. Before, all he wanted to do was work, work. work. You couldn't stop him. Now he listens to me. He says, 'Whatever you tell me, I do.' I think he respects me."

Hamsho introduced himself to Benitez very quickly. In the opening seconds he rushed across the ring, drove Benitez into the ropes with a forearm chop to the throat and then slammed a straight left to the face. Benitez' eyes opened wide. No one had ever treated him so roughly. Then Hamsho, a southpaw, went to work on Benitez' body. By the second round Benitez was flinching as Hamsho slammed shot after shot at the Salvani target zone.

Hurt by a hard left to the head late in the second, Benitez barely made it back to his corner, where Machado revived him with an ammonia capsule. It's a very common practice, only Machado made the mistake of dropping the capsule in front of a Nevada State Athletic Commission inspector. He could be fined as much as $1,000.

"Everybody does it," Machado said. "I just got caught. I was stupid because I dropped the capsule. Wilfred took a heavy blow in the second round, and I used it. Otherwise in the third they would have been counting 10 over him. I'm never going to see anyone count 10 on Wilfred."

In the third, the revived Benitez tried to bring the fight into the center of the ring. It was a mistake. Five times Hamsho, between cuffing him handily, pushed him to the floor. Benitez averted a sixth trip only with a last-second desperate hug around Hamsho's knees. After that, until the end of the fight, Benitez chose never to venture farther than a few feet from his own corner. At each bell, he would take two steps out and then one back, and there he'd stay as Hamsho hammered away at will.

After the 10th round, as Hamsho waited in his corner, Certo looked at him and said, "Paddy is here. He knows what is happening."

"I know," Hamsho said huskily, tears forming in his eyes. "I can feel him."

(by Pat Putnam)

The scoring was lopsided: Judges Lou Tabat (118-109) and Chuck Minker (118-111) each gave Benitez two rounds; Dalby Shirley (117-111) gave him three.