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50 Years Ago This Month, Rocky Marciano KOed Muhammad Ali

At the dawn of the year 1970, Rocky Marciano had been dead for five months and 1012 days had elapsed since Muhammad Ali had last stepped into the ring. But before the first calendar month was over, Marciano and Ali would sling leather in a battle witnessed by roughly a million people in theaters and arenas across North America and by millions more on TV in England and Japan.
What they witnessed, of course, was a simulation, a faux fight. But it wasnât as if Marciano and Ali were animated figures. They actually did share the ring, pulling their punches and occasionally landing a real punch by accident, over the course of 75 one-minute rounds filmed against a black backdrop behind locked doors at Chris Dundeeâs Fifth Street Gym in Miami. Dundee, the older brother of the famous trainer Angelo Dundee, served as the third man in the ring.
The âfightâ between the 45-year-old Marciano (49-0, 43 KOs) and the 28-year-old Ali (29-0, 23 KOs) was the brainchild of Murry Woroner. A man in his mid-40s who grew up in the Bronx, Woroner entered the radio field at a station in the coal-mining town of Harlan, Kentucky, and made several other stops before turning up in Miami where he started his own production company.
Three years earlier, the resourceful Woroner had concocted a heavyweight tournament consisting of 15 fantasy fights that he sold to 380 radio stations around the world. There were 16 entrants, seven deceased, and the last man standing became the mythical greatest heavyweight champion of all time.
A large panel of boxing historians rated each fighter on a host of variables, the results were coded onto punch cards that were fed into a bulky contraption called a computer, and the computer determined the winner of each match. (In the finals, Marciano rallied to stop Jack Dempsey in the 13th round.)
Ali, then known as Cassius Clay, was the only active fighter in the tournament. He was eliminated by turn-of-century stalwart James J. Jeffries in the second round.
Ali/Clay was so incensed by the verdict that he sued Woroner for defamation of character. Jack Johnson had run circles around Jeffries when Jeffries came out of retirement in 1910, and in Aliâs eyes it was absurd to think that he wouldnât have conquered Jeffries in a similarly one-sided fashion.
Murry Woroner reportedly gave Ali $10,000 to drop the suit with the proviso that Ali film a simulated match with Marciano if Marciano could be lured out of retirement. Exiled from boxing and with his bankroll slowly dwindling, Ali accepted the offer. He received an unspecified guarantee plus a percentage of the profits.
In the late spring of 1969, when Marciano consented to participate, he had been out of the ring for 13 years. In retirement, his legend grew his larger â he was the only former heavyweight champion to retire undefeated â and so also did his waistline. A proud man, he lost 50 pounds before the first fake punch was thrown.
Marciano was a bleeder. A lot of ketchup was used during the filming, but lore has it that during one segment Marciano was cut between the eyes so severely that it necessitated a three-week recess. But Ali wasnât unscathed either. He was sidelined, however briefly, when the lumps in his arms became too tender — or so it was written.
After the footage was edited and boiled down to a manageable length, it was placed in a vault where it was guarded, said Time magazine, more closely than the gold in Fort Knox. Only a handful of people knew how the âfightâ would turn out and they were sworn to secrecy. Couriers delivered the final cut to exhibitors less than an hour before it was to be shown, an added measure of protection.
This was a first-class production. Every living former heavyweight champion â except Gene Tunney, who declined to participate â and other ring notables such as The Ring magazine founder Nat Fleischer, was interviewed and appeared on camera. Veteran New York sportscaster Guy LeBow, who had narrated the radio tournament, returned as the blow-by-blow guy.
LeBow wasnât as well-known to boxing fans as Don Dunphy, but he was the perfect choice because of his familiarity with recreations. He had previously worked for the New York Giants baseball team whose road games (and all games in 1958, their first season in San Francisco) aired on a New York radio station with the announcer sitting in a studio working off a Western Union ticker.
Marciano vs. Ali ran on Jan. 20, 1970, a Tuesday, with the opening credits appearing at 7:30 PM Pacific time; three hours later, to the very minute, in the East. At a few of the venues, the movie was conjoined with other entertainment. At Boston Garden, it was paired with a six-fight card. The ending of the fight, which saw Marciano win by stoppage at the 57-second mark of round 13, met with the roaring approval of the Beantown crowd, especially the Italians in the audience who venerated Marciano as if he were the Pope.
Ali, who watched the movie at a theater in Philadelphia, was foiled once again, and once again by a dead man. Three weeks after the final day of filming at the Main Street Gym, and not quite five months before the film appeared on the big screen, Marciano died when the small airplane in which he was an occupant, crashed in an Iowa cornfield.
Of course, Ali held no grudge against Marciano. The two reportedly came to like and respect each other during the course of their Miami adventure. Aliâs beef was with the computer which he characterized as a Mississippi redneck.
Seven different endings were filmed. Itâs widely assumed that the version shown on TV in England was different than the version shown in the United States. Thatâs partly true.
Rocky Marciano wasnât as venerated in England as he was in his native country. Conversely, Muhammad Ali was a far less controversial personality. A much smaller percentage of the British population were inclined to root against him.
When the fantasy fight aired in England, there was a great outcry that Ali had gotten a raw deal. To appease their viewers, a different version was acquired by the TV network. The revision, which aired three days after the original broadcast, showed Ali winning the fight on cuts. However, the round in which the fight was halted wasnât perfectly clear.
Theater owners were forbidden to show the film more than once. If you missed it, you missed it, but eventually a surviving print was located and turned into a DVD. Released in 2005, it was re-titled âThe Superfight: Marciano vs. Ali.â The posters for the original included both names under which Ali was known, but the words âCassius Clayâ were dropped from the promotional materials for the DVD.
Murry Woronerâs fantasy fight hardly settled the argument as to who would have won if Ali and Marciano had met in their respective primes. Many that favor Ali believe he would have won in a cakewalk (similar to Jack Johnson over the aforementioned Jeffries), whereas those favoring Marciano invariably see him taking a lot of punishment before he wears down Ali with his relentless pressure (similar to the first Ali-Frazier fight with Marciano assuming the role of Joe Frazier).
Where do you stand?
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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 Goodmanâs 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 â below his left eye in the eighth and above his right eye in the ninth, the latter the result of an accidental head butt â but by then he had the bout firmly in control, albeit the match wasnât 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 Raâeese 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 â 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. Melbourneâs 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 Aussieâs 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 Hauserâs 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: âLook, Johnny; professional boxing works two ways. Youâre either a ticket-seller and make money for the promoter, in which case you get to win fights. If you donât sell tickets but can look after yourself a bit, you become an opponent and you fight to lose.â
By losing, he could make upwards of one thousand pounds for a nightâs 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 â âjourneymen,â theyâre 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 Londonâs 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 Greavesâs thoughts follow:
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âWe all knew why we were there, and it wasnât 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.â
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âIf you fought too hard and won, then you wouldnât get booked for any more shows. If you swung for the trees and got cut or knocked out, then you couldnât 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.â
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âThe 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.â
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âNo matter how well I fought, I wasnât going to be getting any decisions. These fights werenât 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?â
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âWhen 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, youâre never quite the same fighter.â
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âI 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. Iâd grown sick and tired of it all. I wished that I could feel pride at what Iâd achieved. But most of the time, I just felt like a loser.â
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âThe 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 didnât have time to heal. I was staggering from one fight to the next and picking up more injuries along the way.â
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âI was losing my toughness and resilience. When thatâs all youâve ever had, itâs 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 shouldnât be doing this anymore.â
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âMy 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 couldnât stop fighting yet. Not before the 100.â
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âI 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.â
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âWas 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 shouldnât have been fighting but the promoters didnât care. Johnny Greaves was still a good booking. Maybe an even better one now that he might get knocked out.â
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âNobody gave a f*** about me and whether I lived or died. I didnât 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 â a nobody.â
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âI was a miserable bastard in real life. A depressive downbeat mouthy little f***er. Everything Iâve done has been to mask the feeling that Iâm 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 donât know. If suicide wasnât so impactful on people around you, I would have taken that leap. I donât enjoy life and never have.â
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.’â
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,â Albert recounts. âHe 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 â The Most Honest Sport: Two More Years Inside Boxing â 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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Argentinaâs Fernando Martinez Wins His Rematch with Kazuto Ioka

In an excellent fight climaxed by a furious 12th round, Argentinaâs 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 Iokaâs 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 wasnât 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 âBamâ Rodriguez, the lineal champion at 115. San Antonioâs Rodriguez is a huge favorite to keep his title when he defends against South Africaâs obscure Phumelela Cafu on July 19 in Frisco, Texas.
As for Ioka, had he won todayâs 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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