27 Years Ago, Ray Mercer was `Army Strong’ in Rallying Past Tommy Morrison

Published

7 years ago

October 13, 2018

Former heavyweight champion Riddick Bowe lasted just 11 days at the Marine Corps Recruit Depot at Parris Island, S.C., until he was voluntarily granted his release and returned to civilian life. “Big Daddy” might have won two of his three classic battles with Evander Holyfield, but his approach to training camp was seldom military-grade and, besides, gentlemanly trainer Eddie Futch treated him with more patience and fewer cross words than did his expletive-spewing drill instructors.

Before he even took up boxing, future WBO heavyweight titlist Ray Mercer spent nine years in the U.S. Army. He was the recruiting-poster epitome of “Army strong,” toting an M-60 machine gun on his shoulder on 12-mile hikes without complaint, mentally and physically conditioned enough to tough it out on reforger exercises in the snowy woods of Germany, by survival courses in desert heat. In the ring and in the field, Mercer might have been fallible enough to lose, but nothing and no one was ever going to make him quit.

Roommates in the Olympic Village at the 1988 Games in Seoul, South Korea, the less-talented but more positive-thinking Mercer was so put off by what he perceived to be Bowe’s nagging self-doubts about his medal chances that he sought and was granted different quarters so as to not to have his temporary living space infected by what he later termed the younger fighter’s “defeatist attitude.”

Did removing himself from Bowe’s presence help? Well, let the record show that Mercer took the gold medal in the heavyweight division by winning all four of his bouts inside the distance, the last of which was an emphatic, first-round knockout of South Korea’s Baik Hyun-Man. Bowe had to settle for a silver medal in the super heavyweight division, losing in the final on a second-round stoppage. By maybe he shouldn’t be faulted too much for that; his opponent, after all, was some guy named Lennox Lewis, who was representing Canada. Maybe you’ve heard of him.

By any measure, Bowe, now 51, had the more distinguished of the former Olympic teammates’ professional careers, good enough to merit his 2015 induction into the International Boxing Hall of Fame. And, as he demonstrated in his trilogy with Holyfield, he had enough heart and commitment as the occasion warranted to satisfy even the saltiest Marine DI. It’s just that Bowe never found himself in as many pugilistic firefights as did Mercer, now 57, who had to fall back on his Army training whenever the going inside the ropes required he dig deep inside himself to find whatever was required to keep going and, ultimately, win. He has yet to be inducted into the IBHOF, despite having had his last pro bout in 2008, which would have made him eligible for consideration in 2013. Since his name has never even appeared on the ballot, it’s very possible he will never get a call to the hall.

It was the good-soldier Mercer who achieved perhaps his most memorable victory as a pro on Oct. 18, 1991, when the WBO heavyweight champ overcame three-plus rounds of having his butt kicked by young phenom Tommy Morrison to score a fifth-round TKO in Atlantic City’s Boardwalk Hall. The final barrage, which came after an elapsed time of 28 seconds, saw Mercer pummel “The Duke” into unconsciousness along the ropes before referee Tony Perez could jump in.

“I’m kind of glad it went like it did,” Mercer said afterward. “You like to take your man out convincingly, just so people will know he was really out.”

For those who were not in the arena or did not see the entire USA Network telecast, just the brutal knockout sequence that made all the late-news sports segments (and it was most definitely a KO; the only reason it went into the books as a TKO is because Perez dispensed with the formality of a count), it must have appeared that Mercer won in a rout. But for much of what had transpired earlier, quite the opposite was true. Morrison, who went in with a 28-0 record that included 24 KOs, 15 of which were one-round quickies, came out from the opening bell as if he imagined Mercer would also fall victim to his early onslaught. Sylvester Stallone’s co-star (as ungrateful protégé Tommy Gunn) in 1992’s Rocky V landed flush with an assortment of loaded-up punches, most notably his signature left hook but also a ripping right uppercut that would have taken off the head of most opponents. But Mercer was not like anyone Morrison had ever fought to that point as a pro, as he would eventually demonstrate.

The two big hitters – Mercer went in 17-0, with 13 KOs – actually had squared off once before, at the 1988 U.S. Olympic Boxing Trials. The older, more physically mature Mercer won on points, leaving Morrison with a taste for revenge he figured he would satisfy if and when they ever crossed paths again.

“I took a very long walk back to my locker room and looked at myself in the mirror,” Morrison said in the lead-up to the rematch of sorts in Atlantic City. “What I saw looking back at me was a very disappointed 19-year-old with a big decision to make.

“By pursuing my Olympic dream, I passed up several football scholarships and the education that in no way could be paid for by my family. (A linebacker and tight end, he had received an offer from Emporia State in Kansas.) But I knew I had the determination and desire that has driven me forward to the day I become a world champion. Now, the opportunity I’ve longed for is here. I have a chance to legitimize myself as one of the top heavyweights in the world today. And one thing is certain: it’s not 1988 anymore.

“Look, I know Ray’s got one of the best chins in boxing, and certainly he’s got the biggest heart. People like that, it’s not a matter of knocking them down. You have to break their will, make them want to quit. Nobody’s ever done that to Ray before, but I’m going to do it.”

Mercer, who went off a slight 6-5 underdog, listened to Morrison’s tale of festering resentment and shrugged. So what if the kid said he was determined and had desire. He’d never been in the Army, or the Marines for that matter. Pride in your branch of service is important to veterans, and it had rankled Mercer, the Olympic gold medalist, that a story in USA Today had referred to him as an “ex-Marine.”

“I’m not going back to the locker room and look at myself in the mirror,” the seemingly implacable Mercer said in comparing his state of mind and readiness to that of Morrison. “I look in the mirror before something bad happens. That way, I prevent it from happening. I wish Tommy all the luck in the world, but it’s not going to happen for him. He’s going to be right back in the locker room, looking at himself in the mirror again.”

Did Mercer, so capable of soaking up punishment and shaking it off as if punches were raindrops, intentionally expose himself to Morrison’s penchant for going hard and fast with the idea that the popular and possibly overconfident kid, who had never before gone more than six rounds, would burn himself out in a scheduled 12-round bout? Possibly, but not likely; in Mercer’s two previous bouts he had claimed the minor NABF title on a wide 12-round decision over Bert Cooper despite finishing with a grotesquely swollen jaw, and then won the WBO title on a bolt-of-lightning, ninth-round knockout of Italy’s Francesco Damiani, who was so far ahead on points as to be almost uncatchable had the fight gone to the scorecards.

Morrison easily won the first three rounds and was well on his way to winning the fourth when he seemed to tire in the last minute of that round, opening the door for a revived Mercer to launch a counterattack that foreshadowed the brutal ending. As the final seconds of the fourth ticked off, Akbar Muhammad, a Mercer adviser who was seated in the press section, leaped up and excitedly yelled, “Morrison is finished! He’s punched himself out!”

It was a spot-on assessment. Gasping as he came out for round five, Morrison quickly found himself with his back to the ropes, slickly maneuvered there by a spin move from Mercer, who unleashed a rapid-fire, 16-punch volley.

There would be moments later on in his career that Mercer would not be quite so proud of, most notably the $100,000 bribe he allegedly offered Jesse Ferguson during clinches of their Feb. 6, 1993, bout at Madison Square Garden to intentionally lose. The underdog Ferguson declined repeated enticements to go into the tank (apparently verified by enhanced HBO audiotapes) in a fight which the underdog was in the process of winning, and did. The upset loss put the snafu on a proposed shot for Mercer at his onetime Olympic teammate, WBA/IBF champ Bowe, which instead went to Ferguson. This time, however, Mercer – who would have been paid $2.5 million for the Bowe fight — had no one to blame but himself for the missed opportunity; he came in at a then-career-high 238 pounds, or 13 more than weighed for his fight with Morrison 15½ months earlier. Although charges brought against Mercer were eventually dropped (he faced up to seven years in prison had the case gone forward and he was convicted), his once-sterling reputation took a hit from which it might never have fully recovered.

But Mercer was still “Merciless” Ray the night he again played the familiar role of unconquerable soldier against Morrison, doing unto Morrison for real what Sly Stallone had done to the Tommy Gunn character in the closing scenes of Rocky V. To some, Mercer’s escape from the brink was a surprise; to one veteran observer it was anything but.

“I love Mercer’s chances,” Angelo Dundee, the legendary trainer of Muhammad Ali and Sugar Ray Leonard who had no ties to either fighter, had surmised beforehand. “To me, he’s a devastating inside puncher. I noticed that in the amateurs. His footwork is not that fluid, but when he gets inside, he can really percolate. Outside, he looks ungainly. But inside, it’s goodbye, Jack. I honestly believe he’s going to do a number on Morrison.”

Mercer appreciated the positive remarks from Dundee, but he did take exception to one thing. “Angelo Dundee is one of the greatest trainers around,” Mercer said. “It makes me feel good that he feels that way about me. That’s the way I feel about myself, except that I don’t think I’m that ungainly.”

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Thomas Hauser’s Literary Notes: Johnny Greaves Tells a Sad Tale

Published

1 day ago

May 11, 2025

Thomas Hauser

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

Published

2 days ago

May 11, 2025

Arne K. Lang

Argentina's-Fernando-Martinez-Wins-His-Rematch-with-Kazuto-Ioka

In an excellent fight climaxed by a furious 12^th 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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Emanuel Navarrete Survives a Bloody Battle with Charly Suarez in San Diego

Published

2 days ago

May 11, 2025

David A. Avila

Emanuel-Navarrete-Survives-a-Bloody-Battle-with-Charly-Suarez-in-San-Diego

In a torrid battle Mexico’s Emanuel “Vaquero” Navarrete and his staccato attack staved off the herky-jerky non-stop assaults of Philippine’s Charly Suarez to win by technical decision and retain the WBO super feather world title on Saturday.

What do they feed these guys?

Navarrete (40-2-1, 32 KOs) and his elongated arms managed to connect enough to compensate against the surprising Suarez (18-1, 10 KOs) who wowed the crowd at Pechanga Arena in San Diego.

An accidental clash of heads opened a cut on the side of Navarrete’s left eye and forced a stoppage midway through the fight.

From the opening round Navarrete used his windmill style of attack with punches from different angles that caught Suarez multiple times early. It did not matter. Suarez fired back with impunity and was just as hungry to punch it out with the Mexican fighter.

It was savage.

Every time Navarrete connected solidly, he seemed to pause and check out the damage. Bad idea. Suarez would immediately counter with bombs of his own and surprise the champion with his resilience and tenacity.

Wherever they found Suarez they should look for more, because the Filipino fighter from Manila was ferocious and never out of his depth.

Around the sixth round the Mexican fighter seemed a little drained and puzzled at the tireless attacks coming from Suarez. During an exchange of blows a cut opened up on Navarrete and it was ruled an accidental clash of heads by the referee. Blood streamed down the side of Navarrete’s face and it was cleared by the ringside physician.

But at the opening of the eighth round, the fight was stopped and the ringside physician ruled the cut was too bad to continue. The California State Athletic Commission looked at tape of the round when the cut opened to decipher if it was an accidental butt or a punch that caused the cut. It was unclear so the referee’s call of accidental clash of heads stood as the final ruling.

Score cards from the judges saw Navarrete the winner by scores of 78-75, 77-76 twice. He retains the WBO title.

Interim IBF Lightweight Title

The sharp-shooting Raymond “Danger” Muratalla (23-0, 17 KOs) maneuvered past Russia’s Zaur Abdullaev (20-2, 12 KOs) by unanimous decision to win the interim IBF lightweight title after 12 rounds.

Both fighters were strategic in their approach with Muratalla switching from orthodox to southpaw at various times of the fight. Neither fighter was ever able to dominant any round.

Defense proved the difference between the two lightweights. Muratalla was able to slip more blows than Abdullaev and that proved the difference. The fighter from Fontana, California was able to pierce Abdullaev’s guard more often than not, especially with counter punches.

Abdullaev was never out of the fight. The Russian fighter was able to change tactics and counter the counters midway through the fight. It proved effective especially to the body. But it was not enough to offset Muratalla’s accuracy.

There were no knockdowns and after 12 rounds the judges scored it 118-110, 119-109 twice for Muratalla who now becomes the mandatory for the IBF lightweight title should Vasyl Lomachenko return to defend it.

Muratalla was brief.

“He was a tough fighter,” said Muratalla. “My defense is something I work on a lot.”

Perla Wins

Super flyweight Perla Bazaldua (2-0) eased past Mona Ward (0-2) with a polished display of fighting at length and inside.

Combination punching and defense allowed Bazaldua to punch in-between Ward’s attacks and force the St. Louis fighter to clinch repeatedly. But Ward hung in there despite taking a lot of blows. After four rounds the Los Angeles-based Bazaldua was scored the winner 40-36 on all three cards. Bazaldua signed a long term contract with Top Rank in March.

Photo credit: Mikey Williams / Top Rank

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