It’s Kentucky Derby Week (sort of), so Let’s Talk Boxing

Published

5 years ago

April 30, 2020

It’s Kentucky Derby Week (sort of), so Let’s Talk Boxing

This is the week that many of us would have shifted our gaze from boxing to thoroughbred racing. The Kentucky Derby, an event pinned to the first Saturday in May, is America’s biggest single-day sporting spectacle aside from the Super Bowl.

How many people nowadays are as conversant with the Sport of Kings as with the Sweet Science? Whatever the number, it has to be miniscule. But there was a time when men of a certain age who followed boxing religiously were also, by and large, attuned to the doings on the turf.

All sports were once identified with gambling, but none more so than horseracing and boxing. In the late 19^th century, as prizefighting was coming out of the shadows, the leading destinations for big fights were Coney Island, New Orleans, and the Bay Area of San Francisco. It was no coincidence that horse racing also flourished in these locales. Coney Island, which was then an adult playground – having not yet morphed into a family amusement park — then housed three racetracks which sat in close proximity. Jockeys were well-represented among boxers in the smallest weight class.

Back in those days, boxing writers often doubled-up as turf writers during the racing season. The boxing scribe invariably knew where to find the best odds in the bookmakers’ ring; the baseball guy not so much.

The great John Lardner, who created vivid portraits of Stanley Ketchel, Doc Kearns, and other boxing characters, could hold his own talking angles and systems with the sharpest of horse handicappers. The same could be said of Hall of Fame boxing writer Dan Parker who authored an outstanding primer for novice horseplayers titled “The ABC of Horseracing.”

Bill Corum, a nationally syndicated columnist, had his feet planted in both worlds while writing for the New York Journal-American. Corum did hundreds of fights on radio as Don Dunphy’s sidekick before scooting off to Bluegrass Country where he became the president of Churchill Downs.

The boxing/turf writer, someone who follows these two sports above all others, appears to have passed into oblivion with the death of Bill Nack in 2018. The title of Nack’s 2004 memoir, “My Turf: Horses, Boxers, Blood Money, and the Sporting Life,” captures his fancies but it should be noted that Nack wasn’t a conventional turf writer. He was drawn to the romance and pageantry of the racing game, feeling no obligation to share any tidbits that might prove useful to a fellow trundling off to the track with hopes of returning home with a few more bucks in his pocket.

During the bare-knuckle days in England, fights were commonly hitched to horseracing festivals. The custom, although somewhat diluted, carried over to the United States. With the advent of electric lights, many big fights were staged on the eve of a big race or the eve of the opening day of a racing meet.

Between 1921 and 1947, 13 future Hall of Famers boxed in Louisville on Derby Eve. In order of appearance, they were Joe Lynch, Memphis Pal Moore, Sammy Mandell, Bud Taylor, Young Stribling, Tommy Loughran, Mickey Walker, Jackie Fields, Freddie Miller, Barney Ross, Wesley Ramey, Sammy Angott, and Joey Maxim. All of their fights were held at the Jefferson County Armory, Louisville’s largest indoor meeting place.

Lynch, Loughran, Walker, Miller, Ross, and Angott were title-holders, but only Miller and Angott fought title fights in Louisville. In those days, champions typically fought non-title fights – sometimes lots of non-title fights – between title defenses and Kentucky actually had a law against title fights that wasn’t rescinded until 1934.

The well-known fighters that fought in Louisville on Derby Eve were typically on the downward slope of their careers, not necessarily washed-up, but well-seasoned. The American Legion, which had the final say-so on approving matches, wanted a recognizable name to ensure good newspaper coverage.

The exception was Sammy Angott who won the vacant NBA lightweight title (recognized in 41 states) in Louisville on Derby Eve, 1940, with a 15-round unanimous decision over Chicago’s Davey Day.

best

Angott hadn’t yet reached his peak. He was still three years away from what many would consider his signature win, a 10-round unanimous decision over Willie Pep at Madison Square Garden. Pep was 62-0 going in.

There were, however, extenuating circumstances. Angott was born in Pennsylvania and made his pro debut in Brooklyn, but in the late 1930s he made his home in Louisville and was one of the city’s most popular athletes before the onset of his title reign.

The thread between boxing and the Kentucky Derby frayed and eventually broke apart. The reasons aren’t completely clear, but the local organizers took to sponsoring competing attractions on the eve of the big race, giving visitors many more diversions from which to choose.

Many racetrack terms diffused into boxing. In the olden days when proceeds from winning bets were an important component of a boxer’s earnings, boxers were often accused of fighting under wraps, meaning fighting in a way that concealed their true form so as to build up the odds in a rematch. The unscrupulous Abe Attell, by his own gloating admission, mastered this artifice. “Under wraps” was originally a racetrack term. It denoted the practice by which a trainer covered a horse’s unique leg markings with bandages so as to confuse the clockers that timed the workouts. I don’t know who invented the term “tomato can,” but before this cruel aspersion entered the language an inferior boxer was often classed as a selling-plater, the reference to a horse only good enough to run in a cheap claiming race where every horse is for sale.

Nowadays, both horse racing and boxing are derided as an old man’s sport. This is certainly true of horseracing. A handful of historic races, most notably the Kentucky Derby, attract large crowds, but on an ordinary racing day, the races play to a sea of empty seats and the few regulars in attendance are invariably pensioners. The sport would have died out years ago if the U.S. government hadn’t carved out an exemption for horseracing when updating legislation prohibiting sports betting across state lines and if the technology hadn’t advanced to where a man could wager into a pari-mutuel pool from the comfort of his home or office.

As for boxing, it has struggled to attract new fans in the United States in the white non-Hispanic demographic, but calling it an old man’s sport betrays a parochial sensibility. Moreover, it should be noted that the popularity of boxing has always been cyclical.

—

The Kentucky Derby, a rite of May from the very inception, has been held every year on the first Saturday of the month since 1932.

With one exception.

In January of 1945, all of America’s racetracks went dark by order of the Department of War Mobilization, a lockout that ended with the signing of the Armistice on May 8. That year, the Derby was run on June 9, five weeks past the due date.

The United States, indeed virtually the entire world, now finds itself in a different kind of war. The 2020 edition of the “Run for the Roses,” the 145^th renewal, won’t transpire until Sept. 5 (knock on wood) where it will rub up against the first big weekend of college football (knock on wood).

I’m not a horseplayer, but I wouldn’t let a Kentucky Derby pass without having a flutter (a British expression). Over the years I have made a few nice scores, a corroboration of the daffodil that even a blind squirrel will sometimes find an acorn.

I’ll miss the Kentucky Derby this Saturday. I have no tie to Kentucky, but hearing “My Old Kentucky Home” always brings a tear to my eye. And the sense of anticipation as the final horses enter the starting gate just can’t be beat.

Stay safe. Be well.

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Arne K. Lang

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

Published

7 hours 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

17 hours 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

19 hours 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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