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The Greatness of Floyd Mayweather

“Floyd Mayweather’s Ridiculous T-Shirt”; “Could Manny Pacquiao’s Lawsuit Affect MMA?”; “What’s the Point In Being the Greatest Fighter in the World if Everyone Think He’s D—–d?”
The above are all real headlines generating a starling-thick flurry of hits on the internet this morning in the wake of the most media-friendly fight in the history of the sport. No stone left unturned, no inanity unexplored. Just as the information age has made available to us, the boxing fan, thousands of hours of footage of fighters we may not otherwise have heard of and virtual stacks of newspaper reports guiding us through the narrow maze of boxing’s infancy, so we have to suffer with the rest of the world concerning the grimmest platitudes that can be generated in the English language. For me, it was time, at last, to turn my face from the latest news on Pacquiao’s shoulder or Mayweather’s gambling and look, instead, to history.
You can’t beat the here and now of a fight night, but when it is not only the case that the falcon cannot hear the falconer but that the circus elephants have escaped from the circus and trampled the falconer and his entire menagerie to death, history is always waiting for you, arms open, offering a bloody embrace. When I’m considering his place in history my discomfort concerning Mayweather’s repeated arrests for domestic violence matter not; they are banished, just as they are the moment his right foot alights upon the canvas. Here, the disaster that is his public persona is vanished and his genius comes to the fore.
And he is a genius.
In the early part of 2013 I attempted, for another website, to construct a pound-for-pound list that examined, in order of greatness, the 100 most pre-eminent pugilists in history. It was a difficult, even an absurd task, calling for a comparative analysis of everyone from the legendary figures of the 1880s to the vivid superstars of the modern era, but it ended a moderate success that met with an overwhelmingly positive reaction from the biggest readership that website had gathered. I was pleased with the result for all that I acknowledge that the list wasn’t perfect.
Although we were at that time published at rival websites, The Sweet Science’s Springs Toledo was kind enough to lend me his eye, and chief among his concerns was my insistence that I rank active fighters alongside those who had retired. I still believe I made the right choice but his concerns were well founded. The Fight of the Century between Manny Pacquiao and Floyd Mayweather was contested not just between the two best pound-for-pound fighters in the world – something so rare that the meeting between Roy Jones and James Toney from 1994 may be the only example of such a clash since Joe Louis blasted out Billy Conn in 1941 – but a meeting between the two highest ranking active fighters (barring the by now ramshackle Roy Jones) that appeared on my Top 100 Pound for Pound list. What is more, the meeting had a special significance for each man’s legacy. As I wrote at the time:
“Fans whinge endlessly about Floyd Mayweather “cherry picking” his opponents whilst the other camp gnashes their teeth about Manny Pacquiao “weight-draining” his opponents in a series of catchweight bouts, but these men have both fought some of the best fighters of their era. But they haven’t fought each other…[a]s it stands, they are ranked almost together, just as they were through much of the past decade, with Mayweather slightly higher, just as he was for much of that time. Both were ranked on Ring Magazine’s pound-for-pound list between 2003 and 2013, with Mayweather ranked higher for most of six years and Pacquiao ranking higher for most of four.”
The failure of boxing to deliver Mayweather-Pacquiao remained the single greatest failure in the history of fights. They were the two best fighters in the world, they shared a division and yet the fight wasn’t made until not one but both were past their best and the fight’s meaning was lost to the bandwidth of a hundred angst-filled forums.
From an historical perspective, however, the fight did have meaning. It provided a method for separating the twin heads of the pound-for-pound monster which has dominated this era. Mayweather and Pacquiao ranked in the low forties on my original list, at #47 and #48 respectively. This sounds low and at the time it felt low, but a quick look at the men in the surrounding spots should quell any doubts:
45 – Jimmy Bivins
46 – Ike Williams
47 – FLOYD MAYWEATHER
48 – Manny Pacquiao
49 – Tommy Ryan
50 – Jack Dillon
Directly behind Pacquiao is Tommy Ryan, one of the most dominant champions of the 1800s, a fighter who exhibited dominance at both welterweight and middleweight in a time long before either junior divisions or a sense of humanity had crept into the sport. Like Mayweather and Pacquiao, he was hamstrung in his ranking by his failure to meet the other colossus of his era, Barbados Joe Walcott, and like Mayweather, he was considered the absolute master of the science of his era. Below Ryan, Dillon, the original Giantkiller, a man feared from welterweight to heavyweight by some of the best pugilists of the early 1900s. Mayweather and Pacquiao perched, pre-retirement, above some truly great fighters.
Directly above them: Ike Williams and Jimmy Bivins. Williams and Bivins illustrate the problems in ranking Mayweather among the true Dons of the sport beautifully. Viewing my 100 in isolation, Mayweather’s only wins against fellow centurions came against Oscar De La Hoya and Juan Manuel Marquez. Mayweather’s impressive problem-solving performance against Oscar enhanced his standing by my eye, as did his total domination of Marquez in what may have been a literal punch-perfect performance. It must be noted, however that neither man was at his respective best for his contest with Mayweather, and more than that, that although each makes the 100, they are firmly ensconced in the bottom-half. Meanwhile Ike Williams holds a victory over a top 50 lock in Kid Gavilan, Jimmy Bivins holds victories over top 30 monster Charley Burley, the celestial Archie Moore, the Godlike Ezzard Charles. While these men had the appearance of being more inconsistent, their losses were more indicative of the trials associated with fighting eight times a year against high quality opposition than they were of any lack in quality.
Nevertheless, how to balance the losses of fighters with deluxe resumes against Mayweather’s unbeaten status gained versus inferior opposition becomes the trick.
Mayweather fans will bristle at that terminology, “inferior opposition”, but that is no reason to shy from the facts. Direct comparisons between the best work done by someone like Bivins will always leave Mayweather languishing just as any comparison of losses makes Mayweather seem untouchable. Neither comparison unlocks the truth about either man, but quality of opposition vanquished is the single most important aspect when it comes to my criteria. But just as the list creates its own gravity – how to rank Mayweather ahead of Thomas Hearns, when Hearns has defeated the #10, Roberto Duran? – so it is littered with special cases that escape that gravity, big bright shining stars that slingshot their way around the contorting black hole of the upper reaches and burst free. Mayweather became such an exception when he vanquished Pacquiao.
Of course, a win can only catapult a fighter so far. My list was valid as of March 1, 2013 and between that date and his match with Pacquiao, Mayweather went 4-0, defeating Roberto Guerrero, Saul Alvarez and Marcos Maidana. This haul saw him creep past Ike Williams and probably even Bivins as his longevity began to elongate and the wins over ranked foes racked up.
When the fight with Pacquiao was made, I thought it prudent to identify the absolute limitation for a ranking achievable by each man in the case that they won; for Mayweather I found that ranking him any higher than 19 would be impossible:
15 – Archie Moore
16 – Ray Leonard
17 – George Dixon
18 – Terry McGovern
19 – Packey McFarland
20 – Pernell Whitaker
21 – Tony Canzoneri
22 – Jimmy McLarnin
23 – Sandy Saddler
24 – Stanley Ketchel
25 – Charley Burley
The barrier to his scaling any higher was, to my eye, Terry McGovern. McGovern defeated, within the space of just a year, the bantam, feather and lightweight champion of the world, all by knockout, and each and every one of them was a world-class fighter. The bantamweight champion was an old-town tough Englishman named Pedlar Palmer, unbeaten; McGovern smashed him to pieces in just a round. The featherweight champion was the immortal George Dixon, ranked here at #17. He was slipping, yes, but he had never been stopped – McGovern laid him low in eight. Frank Erne was the much bigger lightweight champion and perhaps the best lightweight to have boxed before the heyday of Joe Gans, a fighter he had defeated in twelve rounds just weeks before his contest with McGovern: McGovern battered him as though he were a rank amateur. Even if he had knocked out Pacquiao in one, I could see no way past McGovern for Mayweather.
But wait – a moment ago we were talking about Mayweather creeping past some of the wonderful boxers ensconced in the forties, now, somehow, he is enmeshed with the low twenties, all because he bested a past-prime former-flyweight with a bad shoulder who had already be knocked out by his closest rival, Juan Manuel Marquez. How is this justified?
It is justified by Mayweather’s resolution of question that would dog him always without his having some sort of showdown with Pacquiao. Yes, the great Filipino was past prime, but having defeated his generational rival, however unsatisfactorily, Mayweather forever separated himself from that rival, something remaining undefeated without having taken this ultimate risk – again, from the generational perspective, which does not interest itself in the relative status of each man – would never have done. Mayweather is now, beyond all hope of contradiction, the greatest fighter of his generation in addition to his being a fighter that has never been beaten. Men who can legitimately lay an unfettered claim to be the best pound-for-pound of their time are extremely rare. Of the men who can legitimately make such a claim, there is only one of them who can also lay claim to having remained undefeated and that man is Floyd Mayweather Jnr.
Of course, arguments abound that Mayweather is the pound-for-pound king of one of the weakest eras in boxing. I dispute this, but must concede that the current pound-for-pound list isn’t enormously impressive. But it is also true that Mayweather has sat astride it for years and the list of names that has peered across the vast chasm that separates him from the mortals at work in the gym is enormously impressive. Aside from the great Pacquiao himself, Mayweather has ranked clearly above the great Bernard Hopkins, Marco Antonio Barrera, Andre Ward, three-weight world champion and heir apparent Roman Gonzalez and the undefeated Joe Calzaghe. Pacquiao aside, who wrestled the pound-for pound crown from his rival upon and immediately after his 2008 “retirement”, Mayweather has stood a distance removed from them all.
As a counterbalance, it should be stated that his competition although excellent is not as dizzying as that of previous pound-for-pound kings and that his weight-jumping exploits, although impressive, haven’t seen him at a serious size disadvantage since his 2007 decision over Oscar De La Hoya. It is true that Canelo Alvarez looked the bigger man at light-middle, but it is also true that since his confrontation with Oscar De La Hoya and subsequent retirement, Mayweather has filled out to a legitimate welterweight and was never going to be truly out-monstered just 7lbs north of that weight division, even against the roomy Mexican.
So talk of the teens is premature. Total domination of a healthy, deadly Pacquiao might have bought him a birth in or around those slots, but I have not seen enough to rank him above the twin sons of Tony Canzoneri and Jimmy McLarnin. McLarnin arguably has the deepest resume in the sport between the death of Harry Greb and retirement of Ezzard Charles and Canzoneri was the smaller man who almost equalled that resume and went an astounding 1-1 with the larger McLarnin. Behind these two monsters, at #23, is Sandy Saddler. Saddler is an extremely difficult comparison. On the one hand he dominated a series with Willie Pep – to be clear, I consider this even more impressive than dominating a series with Floyd Mayweather – but on the other he was out-pointed by inferior pugilists. The difficult in the comparison tells me we are approaching the neighbourhood in which Mayweather will reside, but I can’t quite see him ahead of a looming nemesis to so great a fighter as Pep.
Can he be ranked ahead of #24, Stanley Ketchel?
Ketchel’s case is difficult. He was a force-of-nature, a furnace-bound warrior whose absurd brutality echoes down the century. He was a middleweight so terrible that he was at one time expected to rule as the heavyweight champion of the world, until a combination of the equally lunatic Billy Papke and the defeat of heavyweight king Tommy Burns by the invincible Jack Johnson combined to make that impossible. Ketchel’s loss to Papke is troubling. A borderline great as a middleweight, Papke beat Ketchel despite his having a similar style, something that surprises. Although Ketchel triumphed in their series and built himself an excellent and underrated middleweight resume before that gutsy, doomed tilt at Jack Johnson, he feels like a near miss who should have been wrestling with doppelganger Terry McGovern for a spot in the teens but who was prevented from doing so by a bullet in the back and an enthusiasm for opium. I can see an argument for Mayweather being ranked above Ketchel.
And it is my argument. Barely, barely, I think that Mayweather’s slick dance up the divisions, pound-for-pound certitude and undefeated status trumps Ketchel’s aborted whirlwind assault upon the middleweight, light-heavyweight and heavyweight divisions. Had he bested Sam Langford, avoided defeat against Billy Papke or lived to come again, it would be Ketchel, but none of those things happened, and so it’s Mayweather:
19 – Packey McFarland
20 – Pernell Whitaker
21 – Tony Canzoneri
22 – Jimmy McLarnin
23 – Sandy Saddler
24 – FLOYD MAYWEATHER
25 – Stanley Ketchel
26 – Charley Burley
27 – Holman Williams
28 – Billy Conn
29 – Gene Tunney
Below him now: Gene Tunney, a lock for the top five at light-heavyweight, former heavyweight champion of the world; Billy Conn, as brilliant an operator to ever have straddled the middleweight and light-heavyweight divisions; and the twin-towers of Charley Burley and Holman Wiliams, the true giants of the black murderer’s row of the 1940s, fighters so good that they terrified the management of fighters better than any that Mayweather has ever beaten.
Mayweather is ranked now in company that makes it reasonable to label his resume limited – it is less good than anyone who resides in his range, and even with the addition of the shopworn Pacquiao, probably compares unfavourably to some fighters ranked in the thirties. It is the wave of Mayweather’s status that carries him so far as the shore of the top twenty, a barrier he is unlikely to traverse without the great risk of pronounced longevity or some final and absurd assault on the middleweight division. This latter option is the preferred, I suspect, specifically because of the problematic presence of Miguel Cotto upon the middleweight throne. Of course, we all know that Golovkin is the best middleweight in the world but it is a fact that by defeating Cotto Mayweather could scoop the lineal middleweight crown to go with his light-middleweight and welterweight honours becoming a triple-crown lineal king in three weights despite the fact that none of them represent his best poundage. This would make him an Emperor of ring history, almost regardless of the circumstances.
Looking at things the other way, should Mayweather suffer the loss of his treasured 0, a tumble seems likely. My guess is that he is unlikely to risk his most treasured bauble at such a late stage in his career and the fulfilment of his Showtime contract and a prompt retirement will follow – although the absurd phantom of money troubles sometime in Mayweather’s future may make a comeback necessary.
Should the fiscal future remain rosy and the middleweight division remain untroubled, #24 is where I suspect Mayweather may remain – at least for me. And as a final point, that’s an important one. I feel satisfied at the spots these men inhabit, but you, of course, may feel differently and for many placements there are likely very strong counter-arguments in your support. Those wishing to investigate further for specifics to disagree on may do so by clicking here.
Arguments concerning the final placing of Manny Pacquiao await the great man’s retirement.
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Sam Goodman and Eccentric Harry Garside Score Wins on a Wednesday Card in Sydney

Australian junior featherweight Sam Goodman, ranked #1 by the IBF and #2 by the WBO, returned to the ring today in Sydney, NSW, and advanced his record to 20-0 (8) with a unanimous 10-round decision over Mexican import Cesar Vaca (19-2). This was Goodman’s first fight since July of last year. In the interim, he twice lost out on lucrative dates with Japanese superstar Naoya Inoue. Both fell out because of cuts that Goodman suffered in sparring.
Goodman was cut again today and in two places – below his left eye in the eighth and above his right eye in the ninth, the latter the result of an accidental head butt – but by then he had the bout firmly in control, albeit the match wasn’t quite as one-sided as the scores (100-90, 99-91, 99-92) suggested. Vaca, from Guadalajara, was making his first start outside his native country.
Goodman, whose signature win was a split decision over the previously undefeated American fighter Ra’eese Aleem, is handled by the Rose brothers — George, Trent, and Matt — who also handle the Tszyu brothers, Tim and Nikita, and two-time Olympian (and 2021 bronze medalist) Harry Garside who appeared in the semi-wind-up.
Harry Garside

Harry Garside
A junior welterweight from a suburb of Melbourne, Garside, 27, is an interesting character. A plumber by trade who has studied ballet, he occasionally shows up at formal gatherings wearing a dress.
Garside improved to 4-0 (3 KOs) as a pro when the referee stopped his contest with countryman Charlie Bell after five frames, deciding that Bell had taken enough punishment. It was a controversial call although Garside — who fought the last four rounds with a cut over his left eye from a clash of heads in the opening frame – was comfortably ahead on the cards.
Heavyweights
In a slobberknocker being hailed as a shoo-in for the Australian domestic Fight of the Year, 34-year-old bruisers Stevan Ivic and Toese Vousiutu took turns battering each other for 10 brutal rounds. It was a miracle that both were still standing at the final bell. A Brisbane firefighter recognized as the heavyweight champion of Australia, Ivic (7-0-1, 2 KOs) prevailed on scores of 96-94 and 96-93 twice. Melbourne’s Vousiuto falls to 8-2.
Tim Tsyzu.
The oddsmakers have installed Tim Tszyu a small favorite (minus-135ish) to avenge his loss to Sebastian Fundora when they tangle on Sunday, July 20, at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas.
Their first meeting took place in this same ring on March 30 of last year. Fundora, subbing for Keith Thurman, saddled Tszyu with his first defeat, taking away the Aussie’s WBO 154-pound world title while adding the vacant WBC belt to his dossier. The verdict was split but fair. Tszyu fought the last 11 rounds with a deep cut on his hairline that bled profusely, the result of an errant elbow.
Since that encounter, Tszyu was demolished in three rounds by Bakhram Murtazaliev in Orlando and rebounded with a fourth-round stoppage of Joey Spencer in Newcastle, NSW. Fundora has been to post one time, successfully defending his belts with a dominant fourth-round stoppage of Chordale Booker.
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Thomas Hauser’s Literary Notes: Johnny Greaves Tells a Sad Tale

Johnny Greaves was a professional loser. He had one hundred professional fights between 2007 and 2013, lost 96 of them, scored one knockout, and was stopped short of the distance twelve times. There was no subtlety in how his role was explained to him: “Look, Johnny; professional boxing works two ways. You’re either a ticket-seller and make money for the promoter, in which case you get to win fights. If you don’t sell tickets but can look after yourself a bit, you become an opponent and you fight to lose.”
By losing, he could make upwards of one thousand pounds for a night‘s work.
Greaves grew up with an alcoholic father who beat his children and wife. Johnny learned how to survive the beatings, which is what his career as a fighter would become. He was a scared, angry, often violent child who was expelled from school and found solace in alcohol and drugs.
The fighters Greaves lost to in the pros ran the gamut from inept local favorites to future champions Liam Walsh, Anthony Crolla, Lee Selby, Gavin Rees, and Jack Catterall. Alcohol and drugs remained constants in his life. He fought after drinking, smoking weed, and snorting cocaine on the night before – and sometimes on the day of – a fight. On multiple occasions, he came close to committing suicide. His goal in boxing ultimately became to have one hundred professional fights.
On rare occasions, two professional losers – “journeymen,” they’re called in The UK – are matched against each other. That was how Greaves got three of the four wins on his ledger. On September 29, 2013, he fought the one hundredth and final fight of his career against Dan Carr in London’s famed York Hall. Carr had a 2-42-2 ring record and would finish his career with three wins in ninety outings. Greaves-Carr was a fight that Johnny could win. He emerged triumphant on a four-round decision.
The Johnny Greaves Story, told by Greaves with the help of Adam Darke (Pitch Publishing) tells the whole sordid tale. Some of Greaves’s thoughts follow:
* “We all knew why we were there, and it wasn’t to win. The home fighters were the guys who had sold all the tickets and were deemed to have some talent. We were the scum. We knew our role. Give some young prospect a bit of a workout, keep out of the way of any big shots, lose on points but take home a wedge of cash, and fight again next week.”
* “If you fought too hard and won, then you wouldn’t get booked for any more shows. If you swung for the trees and got cut or knocked out, then you couldn’t fight for another 28 days. So what were you supposed to do? The answer was to LOOK like you were trying to win but be clever in the process. Slip and move, feint, throw little shots that were rangefinders, hold on, waste time. There was an art to this game, and I was quickly learning what a cynical business it was.”
* “The unknown for the journeyman was always how good your opponent might be. He could be a future world champion. Or he might be some hyped-up nightclub bouncer with a big following who was making lots of money for the promoter.”
* “No matter how well I fought, I wasn’t going to be getting any decisions. These fights weren’t scored fairly. The referees and judges understood who the paymasters were and they played the game. What was the point of having a go and being the best version of you if nobody was going to recognize or reward it?”
* “When I first stepped into the professional arena, I believed I was tough. believed that nobody could stop me. But fight by fight, those ideas were being challenged and broken down. Once you know that you can be hurt, dropped and knocked out, you’re never quite the same fighter.”
* “I had started off with a dream, an idea of what boxing was and what it would do for me. It was going to be a place where I could prove my toughness. A place that I could escape to and be someone else for a while. For a while, boxing was that place. But it wore me down to the point that I stopped caring. I’d grown sick and tired of it all. I wished that I could feel pride at what I’d achieved. But most of the time, I just felt like a loser.”
* “The fights were getting much more difficult, the damage to my body and my psyche taking longer and longer to repair after each defeat. I was putting myself in more and more danger with each passing fight. I was getting hurt more often and stopped more regularly. Even with the 28-day [suspensions], I didn’t have time to heal. I was staggering from one fight to the next and picking up more injuries along the way.”
* “I was losing my toughness and resilience. When that’s all you’ve ever had, it’s a hard thing to accept. Drink and drugs had always been present in my life. But now they became a regular part of my pre-fight preparation. It helped to shut out the fear and quieted the thoughts and worries that I shouldn’t be doing this anymore.”
* “My body was broken. My hands were constantly sore with blisters and cuts. I had early arthritis in my hip and my teeth were a mess. I looked an absolute state and inside I felt worse. But I couldn’t stop fighting yet. Not before the 100.”
* “I had abused myself time after time and stood in front of better men, taking a beating when I could have been sensible and covered up. At the start, I was rarely dropped or stopped. Now it was becoming a regular part of the game. Most of the guys I was facing were a lot better than me. This was mainly about survival.”
* “Was my brain f***ed from taking too many punches? I knew it was, to be honest. I could feel my speech changing and memory going. I was mentally unwell and shouldn’t have been fighting but the promoters didn’t care. Johnny Greaves was still a good booking. Maybe an even better one now that he might get knocked out.”
* “Nobody gave a f*** about me and whether I lived or died. I didn’t care about that much either. But the thought of being humiliated, knocked out in front of all those people; that was worse than the thought of dying. The idea of being exposed for what I was – a nobody.”
* “I was a miserable bastard in real life. A depressive downbeat mouthy little f***er. Everything I’ve done has been to mask the feeling that I’m worthless. That I have no value. The drinks and the drugs just helped me to forget that for a while. I still frighten myself a lot. My thoughts scare me. Do I really want to be here for the next thirty or forty years? I don’t know. If suicide wasn’t so impactful on people around you, I would have taken that leap. I don’t enjoy life and never have.”
So . . . Any questions?
****
Steve Albert was Showtime’s blow-by-blow commentator for two decades. But his reach extended far beyond boxing.
Albert’s sojourn through professional sports began in high school when he was a ball boy for the New York Knicks. Over the years, he was behind the microphone for more than a dozen teams in eleven leagues including four NBA franchises.
Putting the length of that trajectory in perspective . . . As a ballboy, Steve handed bottles of water and towels to a Knicks back-up forward named Phil Jackson. Later, they worked together as commentators for the New Jersey Nets. Then Steve provided the soundtrack for some of Jackson’s triumphs when he won eleven NBA championships as head coach of the Chicago Bulls and Los Angeles Lakers.
It’s also a matter of record that Steve’s oldest brother, Marv, was arguably the greatest play-by-play announcer in NBA history. And brother Al enjoyed a successful career behind the microphone after playing professional hockey.
Now Steve has written a memoir titled A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Broadcast Booth. Those who know him know that Steve doesn’t like to say bad things about people. And he doesn’t here. Nor does he delve into the inner workings of sports media or the sports dream machine. The book is largely a collection of lighthearted personal recollections, although there are times when the gravity of boxing forces reflection.
“Fighters were unlike any other professional athletes I had ever encountered,” Albert writes. “Many were products of incomprehensible backgrounds, fiercely tough neighborhoods, ghettos and, in some cases, jungles. Some got into the sport because they were bullied as children. For others, boxing was a means of survival. In many cases, it was an escape from a way of life that most people couldn’t even fathom.”
At one point, Steve recounts a ringside ritual that he followed when he was behind the microphone for Showtime Boxing: “I would precisely line up my trio of beverages – coffee, water, soda – on the far edge of the table closest to the ring apron. Perhaps the best advice I ever received from Ferdie [broadcast partner Ferdie Pacheco] was early on in my blow-by-blow career – ‘Always cover your coffee at ringside with an index card unless you like your coffee with cream, sugar, and blood.’”
Writing about the prelude to the infamous Holyfield-Tyson “bite fight,” Albert recalls, “I remember thinking that Tyson was going to do something unusual that night. I had this sinking feeling in my gut that he was going to pull something exceedingly out of the ordinary. His grousing about Holyfield’s head butts in the first fight added to my concern. [But] nobody could have foreseen what actually happened. Had I opened that broadcast with, ‘Folks, tonight I predict that Mike Tyson will bite off a chunk of Evander Holyfield’s ear,’ some fellas in white coats might have approached me and said, ‘Uh, Steve, could you come with us.'”
And then there’s my favorite line in the book: “I once asked a fighter if he was happily married,” Albert recounts. “He said, ‘Yes, but my wife’s not.'”
“All I ever wanted was to be a sportscaster,” Albert says in closing. “I didn’t always get it right, but I tried to do my job with honesty and integrity. For forty-five years, calling games was my life. I think it all worked out.”
Thomas Hauser’s email address is thomashauserwriter@gmail.com. His next book – The Most Honest Sport: Two More Years Inside Boxing – will be published this month and is available for preorder at:
https://www.amazon.com/Most-Honest-Sport-Inside-Boxing/dp/1955836329
In 2019, Hauser was selected for boxing’s highest honor – induction into the International Boxing Hall of Fame.
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Argentina’s Fernando Martinez Wins His Rematch with Kazuto Ioka

In an excellent fight climaxed by a furious 12th round, Argentina’s Fernando Daniel Martinez came off the deck to win his rematch with Kazuto Ioka and retain his piece of the world 115-pound title. The match was staged at Ioka’s familiar stomping grounds, the Ota-City General Gymnasium in Tokyo.
In their first meeting on July 7 of last year in Tokyo, Martinez was returned the winner on scores of 117-111, 116-112, and a bizarre 120-108. The rematch was slated for late December, but Martinez took ill a few hours before the weigh-in and the bout was postponed.
The 33-year-old Martinez, who came in sporting a 17-0 (9) record, was a 7-2 favorite to win the sequel, but there were plenty of reasons to favor Ioka, 36, aside from his home field advantage. The first Japanese male fighter to win world titles in four weight classes, Ioka was 3-0 in rematches and his long-time trainer Ismael Salas was on a nice roll. Salas was 2-0 last weekend in Times Square, having handled upset-maker Rolly Romero and Reito Tsutsumi who was making his pro debut.
But the fourth time was not a charm for Ioka (31-4-1) who seemingly pulled the fight out of the fire in round 10 when he pitched the Argentine to the canvas with a pair of left hooks, but then wasn’t able to capitalize on the momentum swing.
Martinez set a fast pace and had Ioka fighting off his back foot for much of the fight. Beginning in round seven, Martinez looked fatigued, but the Argentine was conserving his energy for the championship rounds. In the end, he won the bout on all three cards: 114-113, 116-112, 117-110.
Up next for Fernando Martinez may be a date with fellow unbeaten Jesse “Bam” Rodriguez, the lineal champion at 115. San Antonio’s Rodriguez is a huge favorite to keep his title when he defends against South Africa’s obscure Phumelela Cafu on July 19 in Frisco, Texas.
As for Ioka, had he won today’s rematch, that may have gotten him over the hump in so far as making it into the International Boxing Hall of Fame. True, winning titles in four weight classes is no great shakes when the bookends are only 10 pounds apart, but Ioka is still a worthy candidate.
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