“Boxing is the toughest and loneliest sport in the world.”
Those words were uttered by Frank Bruno, and while nowadays many people would claim otherwise (saying mixed martial arts [MMA], or even...[gasp]...pro wrestling is tougher, as evidenced by the comments posted on Dorothy Willis’ piece), those words still ring true when it comes to many boxing matches.
One of those fights took place a week ago last Saturday night, when Juan Manuel Marquez had to have felt all alone in the world as he was pummeled in a tough matchup with one of the best fighters in the world today, Floyd Mayweather Jr.
It was an exciting fight in many ways, but Marquez was simply overpowered and outmatched. Mayweather dominated the fight from start to finish, winning by unanimous decision after 12 rounds.
Mayweather fought another Mexican, Oscar De La Hoya, in February of 2007, though that match was more hyped than the Mayweather/Marquez bout. In fact, the fanfare surrounding that fight was so great it amazed even some sportswriters covering the clash.
One such writer, James Slater, wrote a piece before the fight that struck me then as oh-so true. His piece seems even more poignant now, and really sums up the entire theme of my article.
The title of his piece: "'Sugar' Ray Robinson: Good Enough to Have Beaten Both De La Hoya and Mayweather on the Same Night?"
Although I’ve never once seen the late Ray Robinson, or "Sugar," as he was known to his fans and many friends, fight in person (having only been blessed to watch YouTube videos of his fights), I’m confident Mr. Slater was, and is, absolutely correct.
Robinson would have manhandled Mayweather and De La Hoya easily, with nothing more than a 15-minute break between the fights.
Former heavyweight champion Max Schmeling once said of Robinson, “He was the greatest. A distance fighter. A half-distance fighter. An in-fighter. Scientific. He was wonderful to see.”
Another former heavyweight champion, Joe Louis, known as “The Brown Bomber” and considered by many to be the best heavyweight boxer ever, once called Robinson, “The greatest fighter ever to step into the ring.”
The Boxing Writers of America were of the same opinion, voting Robinson the Best Fighter of All Time in 1977.
In 1997 The Ring magazine concurred, naming Sugar Ray the best boxer in its 75 years of publication.
A panel of experts from the Associated Press seemed to agree with Schmeling and Louis as well when, in 1999, they voted Robinson the “Fighter of the Century.”
In 2007, ESPN.com ran a piece titled “50 Greatest Boxers of All Time,” in which Robinson claimed the top spot.
All of these accolades from his peers and those who would know more than testify to the fact that Sugar Ray Robinson had no equal in the ring and dominated the “Sweet Science.”
Simply put, his brilliance in the ring is unparalleled, and that’s precisely why I’m somewhat amazed that his life outside the ring, in part, seemed to mirror my own in many ways.
My Introduction to the “Sweetest” Boxer Ever
My father left my mother when I was only five years old. I won’t go into all of the troubled reasons for this here other than to say that they separated and he was never in my life again, but I will say that I only have three real memories of him and they are dear ones.
The one memory that’s relevant to this article is of him trying to teach my older brother David and me how to box. He’d bought us two small sets of boxing gloves and would have us spar each other, giving us tips and pointers.
He knew what he was doing, too, for he had at one time in his life been a light-heavyweight contender in the 1940s. That was long before he’d met my mother, but he hadn’t lost his knowledge of the sport that was dearest to him. While he loved other sports, it was the "Sweet Science" that held his heart.
Although I would later box a little as a youth, as did my brother David, neither of us really ever developed a love for the sport to the degree our father had. He loved it so much he lived to participate in it. You could hear the ache of desire in his voice, as he laced up our gloves and sent us at each other, to once again lace up a pair of gloves himself and get in the ring.
It was easy to tell he wanted desperately to return to his youth for one last shot at glory as he taught us the difference between a jab and a left hook. You could see the gleam in his eyes that I only recognize now through the dim haze of memory, as he instructed us on how to keep our hands up and to protect our heads.
It was evident he would trade anything for another go in the ring. He’d once been a lion, and like a lion he longed to hunt his prey.
While I don’t have a distinct memory of him telling me who his favorite boxers were, talks with my mother about him have revealed that he was a huge fan of the “Brown Bomber” Joe Louis (who he told my mother he’d once sparred with) and Sugar Ray Robinson.
She says he was adamant that while Louis was the greatest heavyweight fighter he’d ever seen, Robinson was the best boxer ever born.
And he’s not alone in this assessment. As stated above, Robinson is considered by most experts, historians, and knowledgeable fans as the greatest “pound-for-pound” fighter to ever take to a ring or lace up gloves.
More important than all of those people, though, is the man known as “The Greatest,” Muhammad Ali, who many others feel was the greatest. Ali himself said that honor belongs to Sugar Ray. He called Robinson “the king, the master, my idol.”
How, then, can anyone doubt it?
In fact, the “pound-for-pound” rankings (a term used in boxing to describe a fighter’s value in relation to fighters of different weight classes) were devised by sportswriters because of Robinson’s performances and dominance of the welterweight and middleweight divisions.
That dominance was complete, as Robinson held the welterweight title once, as well as the middleweight championship five times.
He even tried to take the light heavyweight (175 pound) crown from Joey Maxim on June 25, 1952, but was overcome by the heat (reportedly 104 degrees) in Yankee Stadium, and couldn’t continue the match he was winning on all cards after the 13th round.
Maxim was awarded a TKO; the only time in Robinson’s career he didn’t finish a fight.
Roots of the “Sweet Science” That “Sugar” Dominated
Boxing has been a sport far longer than almost all others, dating back thousands of years. Sometimes referred to as pugilism, from the Latin word pugil, which means “a boxer,” it’s a sport that has been criticized by many for its violent nature. These critics would probably be happy to note that boxing has seen a marked decline in popularity in the U.S. over the last decade.
Literary great Joyce Carol Oates once said of the sport, “Boxing has become America’s tragic theater.”
Another writing luminary, Roger Kahn, said of it, “Boxing is smoky halls and kidneys battered until they bleed.”
While the smoky halls are a thing of the past here in America because of our nation’s politically correct nature, the battered kidneys definitely aren’t in short supply in the sport. Also, while they were spoken long before the bout, Oates’ words rang especially true the night Mike Tyson tried his best to bite off Evander Holyfield’s ear.
Despite that, and despite the fact I never had a strong desire to get in the ring myself, I will always find a visceral desire at times to watch a good fight. I’m guessing this is primarily because I’m a man, and we men tend toward violence. I know I certainly have in my lifetime, although I’ve worked hard to curtail such urges.
This desire is precisely why I wish I could have seen Sugar Ray Robinson box in person, for as many of my elders have regaled me, he was a wonder to behold in the ring. According to many, his combination of speed, athleticism, power, and poise, along with his sheer determination to conquer his opponent, were a marvel to watch.
He was also bigger than life outside the ring. He was slick and handsome, and knew it. He was reportedly a womanizer, and lived a lavish, flamboyant life, driving a flamingo-pink Cadillac everywhere he went and tipping $20 bills to those who served him when $20 was a great deal of money.
He was the first in the sport to really have what’s known today as an entourage, with a private secretary, barber, masseur, voice coach, along with numerous trainers, beautiful women, and even a dwarf mascot following him and his lifelong manager, George Gainford, to every match.
Yet, it was his skills in the ring that make me yearn to have enjoyed watching him in real life.
I’ve witnessed my fair share of great boxing matches, including a couple that have been labeled the greatest matches in the history of the sport—Hagler vs. Hearns and Hearns vs. "Sugar" Ray Leonard to name two.
I’ve also seen some of the greatest fighters ever display their skills, as they bobbed and weaved, danced and tilted, while delivering whirling cracks of thunder to the body and jaws of their opponents.
That being said, I would give quite a bit to have witnessed the man considered the greatest ever do his thing. As the title of this piece alludes to, Robinson simply dominated the Sweet Science, and how great it would have been to see that dominance in person.
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