Boxing’s Chaotic Weight Divisions: Part Two of a Two-Part Story

Published

4 years ago

November 20, 2020

Boxing's-Chaotic-Weight-Divisions-Part-Two-of-a-Two-Part-Story

In May of 1987, The Ring magazine, boxing’s premier publication, announced that it would be turning back the clock. In the future, the monthly top-10 ratings would be limited to the eight classic weight divisions. The champions of the “junior” divisions would be rolled into the next highest weight class.

“Our goal,” said The Ring editor Nigel Collins, “is to restore boxing to the way it used to be, when the champ really meant something. The thing is so watered down now that it has become a farce.”

The last straw for the self-styled Bible of boxing was the introduction of the 105-pound weight class earlier that year. The fledgling International Boxing Federation got the ball rolling and the two other relevant organizations, the WBC and WBA, were quick to embrace it. This latest addition to boxing’s taxonomy created a second weight division below the standard flyweight class. Only three measly pounds separated the 105-pound class from the class directly above it.

Making matters more confusing, the three organizations could not agree on what to call the new weight division. The IBF named it mini-flyweight, the WBC called it the strawweight, and the WBA named it the minimumweight division.

The addition of this new weight class was seen as a cash grab, a move to extract more money in sanctioning fees from the sport’s promoters. It was certainly that, but there was more to it. The honchos of the three organizations could see that the Orient was “under-served.” The best fighters in this region of the world, with few exceptions, were “mighty-mites.” When the IBF released its first mini-flyweight top-10 list, only four countries were represented: Thailand, the Philippines, Indonesia, and South Korea.

Cruisers

The cruiserweight division was born before the bottom end of the weight spectrum was cluttered with sub-flyweight divisions. The WBC led the way, setting the limit at 190 pounds.

Marvin Camel, who was born on the Flathead Indian Reservation in Montana, had the distinction of being the world’s first cruiserweight champion, but it took him two tries. In December of 1979, Camel’s 15-round fight with Mate Parlov in Yugoslavia ended in a draw. The do-over was held three months later in Las Vegas and Camel copped the vacant belt, winning a unanimous decision.

Camel became a two-time cruiserweight champion when he scored a 5^th-round stoppage over Roddy McDonald on McDonald’s turf in Halifax, Nova Scotia, on Dec. 13, 1983, in the first world cruiserweight title fight sanctioned by the infant IBF.

Prior to this, in February of the previous year, the first WBA cruiserweight title fight was held in South Africa. Ossie Ocasio claimed the vacant belt with a 15-round split decision over Robbie Williams. In point of fact, Ocasio actually won the WBA’s junior heavyweight title, but the name never caught on and the WBA eventually fell in line with its rivals and accepted the handle “cruiserweight.”

Super Middles

The idea for a 168-pound weight class had been kicking around for some time before the International Boxing Federation gave it the stamp of approval, taking it out of the hands of fly-by-night organizations.

The IBF, headquartered in New Jersey, was pressured to create the new weight class by the management of Garden State native Bobby Czyz who had outgrown the middleweight division, but the popular Czyz was a spectator when the IBF held its first super middleweight title fight, a match between Murray Sutherland and Ernie Singletary at Atlantic City on March 28, 1984. Sutherland, who was born in Scotland but fought out of Bay City, Michigan, won the vacant belt with a lopsided decision in a dull 15-round fight.

South Korea’s Chong Pal-Park, who dethroned Sutherland but left the IBF, won the first WBA super middleweight title fight with a second-round stoppage of Tijuana’s Jesus Gallardo on Dec. 6, 1987. In November of the following year, the first-ever WBO and WBC super middleweight title fights were staged three days apart in Las Vegas.

On the 4^th, at the Hilton, Thomas Hearns became the first WBO 168-pound title-holder when he got off the deck to win a 12-round majority decision over James Kinchen. On the 7^th, at Caesars Palace, Sugar Ray Leonard got off the deck to stop Donny Lalonde in the ninth frame. Leonard won two titles that night as Lalonde entered the ring sporting the WBC light heavyweight title, but Sugar Ray never had any intention of defending this belt.

That set up a unification fight between Hearns and Leonard, a rematch of their scintillating welterweight battle, but almost eight years had passed since that famous fight and Leonard-Hearns II, contested at Caesars Palace on June 12, 1989, was a pale imitation of the original even though it was a very close fight that ended in a draw.

All four governing bodies would eventually bump the cruiserweight class up to 200 pounds. The changeover was made in rapid succession, one of the few instances in which the rival organizations operated more or less in concert.

Olympic Boxing

The lords of professional boxing were too smart to tamper with the traditional eight weight classes. The weights have remained unchanged for more than 100 years. At the amateur level, however, there have been frequent shake-ups.

As noted in PART ONE, the 1920 Summer Games were an important development in putting the seal of approval on the eight traditional classes and standardizing the weight attached to each class. This template remained in place until 1948 when there were changes across the board resulting from the decision to express the weights in kilograms rather than pounds. Every weight class was impacted to some degree. To take just one example, the lightweight division went from 135 pounds to 62 kilograms, the rough equivalent of 136.7 pounds.

Four years later, at the 1952 Olympics, two new weight classes were introduced, boosting the number of divisions from “8” to “10.” The new divisions were called light welterweight and light middleweight and the divisions adjacent to them were adjusted so that they wouldn’t rub too close against them.

Another new weight class was introduced in 1968, the light flyweight class with a ceiling of 105.8 pounds (48 kilograms) and in 1984 the number of Olympic weight classes went from “11” to “12” with a super heavyweight class for boxers weighing more than 91 kilograms (200.6 pounds).

The light middleweight division was eliminated in 2004 and the featherweight division was expunged in 2012, bringing the number of Olympic weight classes back to “10.” As was true when a new weight class was added, the elimination of a weight class brought about some adjustments. And it now became necessary to qualify the number by noting that these were men’s classes. The women had crashed the party.

At the 2012 Games, the first for female boxing, and once again in 2016, the ladies were sorted into three divisions: flyweight, lightweight, and middleweight.

At the forthcoming Tokyo Olympiad — pushed back from 2020 by the pandemic — there will be five weight classes for women. A featherweight (125) and a welterweight (152) class has been added. Concordantly, the lightweight division has been redefined, going from 132 to 138 pounds.

As has happened in the realm of sports at America’s colleges and universities, as more opportunities have been provided for women, there’s been some contraction for men. To accommodate the ladies, AIBA, the international governing body of amateur boxing, is doing away with two men’s classes. The light flyweight and bantamweight divisions are biting the dust.

—

It seems odd that as amateur boxing is returning to eight weight classes (for males), the pro game is heading in the other direction. The addition of a bridgerweight class will swell the number to 18.

And by the way, The Ring magazine now rates boxers in 12 weight categories. The well-intentioned rollback to the original eight never did take hold.

Check out more boxing news on video at the Boxing Channel

To comment on this story in the Fight Forum CLICK HERE

Post Views: 0

Share The Sweet Science experience!

Arne K. Lang

Up Next

Conor Benn Improves to 17-0 at the Expense of Sebastian Formella

Don't Miss

Ring City Hollywood Debut Sees Foster KO Roman

Sam Goodman and Eccentric Harry Garside Score Wins on a Wednesday Card in Sydney

Published

14 hours ago

May 14, 2025

Arne K. Lang

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

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.

To comment on this story in the Fight Forum CLICK HERE

Post Views: 0

Share The Sweet Science experience!

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

Published

3 days 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.

To comment on this story in the Fight Forum CLICK HERE

Post Views: 0

Share The Sweet Science experience!

Argentina’s Fernando Martinez Wins His Rematch with Kazuto Ioka

Published

4 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.

To comment on this story in the Fight Forum CLICK HERE

Post Views: 0

Share The Sweet Science experience!