Official 2013 Boxing Thread: Year is over, please lock.

[solidus snake]

#28 Gene Tunney (65-1-1; Newspaper Decisions 15-0-3)

Readers of this series may have noticed the tendency amongst even the greatest fighters to drop numerous losses in newspaper decisions. These were fights where the boxers were fighting to “no decision,” that is, the rules of the time and place they fought in did not allow a decision to be rendered in a prizefight, so there would be no official victor in the event that the two remained on their feet at the end of the agreed distance. Newspapermen in attendance would have their say the next day but there was no “official” victor. Many fighters slacked off in such contests. During the era and for many years afterwards, no-decision bouts were reported as just that when a fighter’s record was being discussed, the fight regarded as neither a win nor a loss but a no-decision—so what was the difference?

Doubtless Gene Tunney did not see it that way. In all his eighty-six fights, including the eighteen no-decisions he competed in, Tunney officially lost just once. This is extraordinary. Even the other greats who competed in nearly ninety contests during a career that spanned more than ten years have many more losses to excuse.

Of course, he was lucky. After Harry Greb gave him the beating of a lifetime in their 1922 affair, his face so distorted by Greb’s punches that “The Fighting Marine” avoided family and friends for days afterwards, the two fought a rematch which reads like a blatant robbery for Gene (an “unjustifiable” verdict according to New York commissioner William Muldoon, and almost every other unbiased observer). Tunney can be credited for agreeing to a third fight in 1923, which he won clearly, a fourth fight was then seen by most as a draw. In the fifth fight Tunney finally proved his clear superiority, winning a one-sided decision in 1925 but by this time Gene was a 186-pound heavyweight and Greb had begun to slip, blind in one eye and past his best.

There are other concerns about Tunney’s opposition. Tommy Gibbons was ring-worn and had been chasing Tunney for years by the time they met; Carpentier was past his best, having lost two of his last five; Tommy Loughran was young and green when Tunney and he boxed a draw and the fact that they were never rematched is peculiar. Jack Dempsey, famously, was nothing like his magical best when Tunney twice outpointed him for the heavyweight title.

I personally have some sympathy with this point of view. Tunney’s best opposition tended to be notably smaller than he or past prime, and he never matched a black contender in a very carefully handled—one might almost say stage-managed—career. But there are still those eighty wins to weigh against a single loss, a loss that came against a fighter who would surprise absolutely nobody were he to appear at #1 in this list, a fighter that Tunney showed great determination, mental strength and brilliance in eventually mastering. More, like Michael Spinks he lifted the heavyweight title as a former light-heavyweight. No mean feat against a great champion, whatever his condition.

 

[solidus snake]

#27 Billy Conn (64-11-1)

Billy Conn had no amateur background. He was the purest of professionals, taking up the cudgel as a teenager under the tutelage of defensive specialist and kindred spirit Johnny Ray (“As soon as he put up them little fists, I fell in love with him”). An apprenticeship served against older men in the tough spots in and around the fight-crazy city of Pittsburgh did harm to his paper record seeing him lose seven of his first fourteen but built a fighter who had learned the hard way how to win and what it meant to lose. By the time he had grown his way into adulthood and the middleweight division he had developed some of the skills that would make him great. Between 1936 and 1948 he would face just one opponent he could not beat: Joe Louis.

Even in that fight, Conn added to legend, turning in perhaps one of the most lauded and famous losing performances of all time. Despite the emergence of footage it has become truth by repetition that Billy ran his way through that fight—in fact, he fought Louis, fought him hard, even in the pocket. Johnny Ray had told their story a year before, telling pressmen that “you have this Louis guy all wrong. You can put all the boxers you want in front of him and he’ll catch them. You need someone who can fight him.” Conn was that man and he boxed, fought, spoiled and blasted his way through twelve rounds, demonstrating a brilliant grasp of broad strategy and an iron jaw. Conn famously came out for that thirteenth ready to fight a ring war with the last man in boxing history whom you would want to meet for one, a step too far for even this brilliant talent—but by then, he was already a great.

Conn had defeated Teddy Yarosz, Fritzie Zivic and Young Corbett III, all of whom appear on this list, former middleweight champions of the world Vince Dundee and Babe Risko, reigning middleweight world champions Solly Krieger and Fred Apostoli in non-title affairs—twice each. And he did all of this before his twenty-third birthday.

He then took the light-heavyweight championship from Melio Bettina, before beating him again for his first defense, then twice defeated successor to the crown, Gus Lesnevich before relinquishing the title undefeated. Up at heavyweight he found his punch, even knocking out Bob Pastor, something nobody other than Joe Louis was able to do in Pastor’s entire career.

He couldn’t beat Louis, but he beat everyone else he faced in his prime building an incredible win ledger over three divisions, leaving us to wonder what damage he might have done over the six his career would have spanned in the modern era.

 

[solidus snake]

#26 Holman Williams (146-30-11)

Holman Williams owns the best win resume in middleweight history; one more time: no middleweight in history has a deeper win ledger than the man Eddie Futch called “a great fighter with the finesse of Ray Robinson.”

He needed every drop of that finesse to compensate for what has been mistakenly described as a lack of power but what were actually terribly fragile hands. Holman redesigned his style to take this into account and then, boxing at welterweight, he beat Cocoa Kid, Fritzie Zivic, Gene Buffalo, Ceferino Garcia and Jimmy Leto. Moving into the middleweight division, he defeated Charley Burley on three occasions, the bigger Lloyd Marshall on two occasions, the monstrous Jack Chase four out of four, Eddie Booker, Kid Tunero, Steve Belloise, Aaron Wade, Bert Lytell twice, a light-heavyweight Archie Moore, legendary puncher Bob Satterfield, and Joe Carter, as well as others. Past his best and giving away a definitive weight advantage to a primed Jake LaMotta he ran the Bronx Bull close, dropping a close decision that was booed by sections of the crowd. This was part of the run that saw him lose ten of his last seventeen. Taken in tandem with his eight losses to Cocoa Kid, a brilliant fighter too inconsistent for this list, who had a strange hex over Williams, more than two-thirds of Holman’s defeats are accounted for. Utterly brilliant at his best, his transformation from boxer-puncher to defensive specialist made him perhaps the definitive technician of his era, a man Eddie Futch claimed he would rather watch shadowbox than see his contemporaries fight.

 

[solidus snake]

#25 Charley Burley (83-12-2)

It was explained to Charley Burley by Henry Armstrong’s management that he could not fight for Henry’s welterweight title because Henry was dropping back down to lightweight after his next title defense…and after the next one—and after the next one. After a record number of defenses, Armstrong did indeed give the title up, to Fritzie Zivic, a fighter that Charley Burley had already beaten twice and who was ranked behind him at welterweight. The story goes that Zivic, rather than meet a fighter that had proven himself the superior of the two, bought out Burley’s contract in order that he might avoid meeting him. Burley went hunting bigger game, up at middleweight, but fought almost perennially at a disadvantage, keeping his poundage low in order that he might quickly boil down to 147 pounds should his moment come at the lower weight.

When it passed instead to Red Cochrane, equally unsure about the benefits of meeting Burley ring-center, Charley went to the bizarre lengths of meeting the future heavyweight champion of the state of Texas in order to attract what he hoped would be the necessary attention. J.D. Turner, though not a special heavyweight, was purportedly smooth in style, although ponderous—at 220 pounds he was entitled to be. Just a month before he had extended Billy Conn the distance and he held a win over the ranked Neville Beech. Not the most formidable of heavies, but not someone a common garden 150-pound fighter should be messing with, Turner represented a new angle for a fighter desperate for a title shot. Obtaining special permission from the Athletic Commission of Minnesota due to “a shortage of opponents in his own class,” Charley Burley proved he was anything but common, stabbing and staving a bewildered Turner to a seventh round TKO, the giant sure he wanted no more of the 70-pound lighter steel-spring rattlesnake in the opposite corner. Promoter Tommy O’Loughlin attempted to ride the crest of this strange wave all the way to New York, where Red Cochrane sought an opponent to box him in a charity event. Burley was passed over for the honor despite volunteering his services for free.

According to biographer Harry Otty, no less a personage than Sugar Ray Robinson turned down an invitation to dance with Burley that included a career’s best payday. Marcel Cerdan was rumored to have spent an uncomfortable afternoon watching the always vicious Burley sparring, after which he was said to dismiss out of hand the notion of ever meeting him. When Jake LaMotta was asked about a possible meeting with Charley he is said to have muttered, “What do I need Burley for when I have Zivic?” Telegrams offering up Burley as an opponent for both Conn and Zale apparently went unanswered. He was a problem nobody needed.

Those that took to the ring with him during his breathtaking prime were left with even more terrifying impressions. Archie Moore, who met a prime Ezzard Charles, a prime Rocky Marciano, a prime Floyd Patterson and a prime Holman Williams, who watched and even trained men like Muhammad Ali and George Foreman, named Burley the best fighter he had ever met, and the best fighter he had ever seen. “He did things I’ve never seen anybody else do,” Moore explained. “He could feint you like crazy. The man could feint you with his eyebrows! Fighting him was inhuman. He was like a human machine gun.”

Moore is to be congratulated for showing the guts to take to the ring with Burley, but it should be noted that he doggedly avoided any rematch. Picked by Arthur Donovan as the superior of Henry Armstrong, Archie Moore as the superior of Sugar Ray Robinson and Eddie Futch as the superior of everybody, Burley ranks here one slot higher than Williams by virtue of two facts. Firstly, he didn’t have Holman’s desperate struggle with Cocoa Kid, in fact he beat the mercurial stylist with as much ease as just about anybody. Secondly, he was unlucky to go 3-3-0-1 with Williams, repeatedly flooring his greatest foe in their first fight in December of 1939 and dominating him up until the ninth when he dislocated his shoulder. He hung on in there, but couldn’t lift his arm to win another round, dropping a close fifteen-round decision. When their May 1943 meeting was thrown out and ruled a no contest after the two defensive geniuses were seen to be missing one another just a little too often, Burley was ahead on the cards, deeply unfortunate not to take the deciding fight between them. In his best years of ’41-’46 only four fighters were able to defeat him, Holman Williams, and three all-time great light-heavyweights Jimmy Bivins, Ezzard Charles and Lloyd Marshall, Marshall taking him to a split decision win against a Charley Burley nursing a broken hand. He beat Turner, Williams, Moore, Cocoa Kid, Shorty Hogue, Gene Buffalo, Fritzie Zivic, Jimmy Leto, Billy Soose, Jack Chase, Aaron Wade, Bert Lytell and in the only film to emerge of Burley, one of the era’s hardest punchers, a man who had knocked out Harold Johnson with a single punch and boxed Archie Moore to a draw, light-heavyweight Oakland Billy Smith, who until the emergence of additional footage showing him to be something of a technician, was regarded by history as no more than a buffoon—Burley made him appear as one.

Most likely it was the overprotective businessmen whose job was to draw maximum reward for minimal risk from their opponents that kept Armstrong and Robinson from Burley’s munitions, but maybe, just maybe, it was the only fear truly great athletes ever really suffer—the fear of being made look a fool by a fighter too good for his own good.

 

[solidus snake]

 

[solidus snake]

#24 Stanley Ketchel (51-4-4; Newspaper Decisions 2-1-1)

During his savage prime Stanley Ketchel was regarded as one of the greatest fighters in boxing’s short history—Abe Attell went so far as to name him just that. Battling Nelson labeled him the greatest fighter of his time and James Corbett agreed with him. Jim Jeffries named him the gamest fighter he had ever seen. Joe Gans labeled him a “past master.” Those that saw him, including Charley Rose and Dumb Dan Morgan, named him the greatest middleweight in the history of the division. That was by the end of 1908—the strange truth is that at the beginning of that year, Ketchel was just another fighter.

This was due to the terrible strength of the middleweight division in which he found himself. The world’s best middleweight may have been Jack Sullivan, named the best fighter in the world at the end of 1907 by Tommy Ryan. Sullivan was busy battling it out with heavyweights, the most recent fighter to hold a victory over champion Tommy Burns he was determined to cash in those chips but he moved back down to take on the man that had smashed his brother to pieces in just one round three months before. Sullivan had just extended 200-pound heavyweight contender Al Kaufman to twenty-five rounds. Ketchel rounded him up, set him on fire, brutalized and stopped him in twenty.

Next up was Billy Papke. If there is a single middleweight—if there is one, single fighter—who personified ring savagery to a greater degree than even Ketchel, it was Papke. Given credit by many as technically less baggy than Stanley, he fought with even greater abandon, and it was his undoing in the first meeting between these two—Ketchel kept a cool head and took Papke apart in the dramatic exchanges that punctuated each of the ten rounds, coming within a hair’s breadth of stopping him.

Next up was the world’s #2 middleweight going into ’08, Hugo Kelly. Kelly hadn’t been stopped since his second fight and had boxed draws with Sullivan, Papke and heavyweight champion Tommy Burns; Ketchel tore him to pieces in three. He moved on quickly, a shark in pursuit of prey, stepping up to light-heavyweight to meet the Joe Thomas for a fourth and final time. They had first met in the middle of 1907, Thomas the ranked fighter, Ketchel the wild usurper from the Montana hills. Their twenty-round draw surprised many; when Stan knocked Thomas out in thirty-two rounds of their torrid rematch, a star was born. Winning a twenty-round decision in their fourth fight seemed to put the matter to bed, but Thomas demanded more. Ketchel laid the table and smashed his one-time peer into the ground in just two rounds. He was disappointed, he said, not to have done it in one.

He then posted a loss to Billy Papke, impressing his peers even in defeat, absorbing perhaps the most astounding beating of the era. Many thought he wouldn’t make it back—he did, knocking Papke out in eleven rounds, three minutes earlier than Billy had turned the trick against him. A twenty-round victory in their fourth fight in ’09 made him forever Papke’s better, a year in which he also destroyed Jack O’Brien in just three. Already, though, there were signs of slippage. The talk in the press was of his keeping strange hours with strange people. Ketchel was working on the opium addiction that would send him drifting from the world of boxing. There were still a few good performances left in the can; the strange loss to the great Jack Johnson, the brutal dispatch of heavyweight Dan Flynn, the narrow newspaper loss to Sam Langford, the draw with Frank Klaus.

One of the greatest punchers of all time, he sported an iron-jaw and almost limitless stamina. Also a more thoughtful boxer than the scant footage and his terrifying reputation allow, Ketchel was amongst the very greatest fighters of the pre-television era—and to hear his contemporaries tell it, during his rare and savage peak of 1908, he was perhaps the best.

 

[solidus snake]

#23 Sandy Saddler (144-16-2)

Sandy Saddler boxed like a stylist who hated the world and everything in it. Some of the most brutal offense in boxing history brought him 144 wins and 103 knockouts. Only a tiny handful of men have more stoppage wins to their name, and none of them boxed at featherweight.

Saddler’s legacy is defined by his series with Willie Pep. Between 1940 and 1951, Pep was defeated by exactly one featherweight, and that featherweight was Sandy Saddler. Their first fight saw Pep made a strong favorite and with good reason—he was as brilliant and dominant a champion as had lived—but some saw upon looking closely reason to favor Saddler. For two years he had been trailing Pep and seemed eerily confident of his chances, with good reason. He found Pep with ease, busting him up, cutting him, stopping him in four with a brutal left hook. In the rematch, Pep found his range and put up a brilliant foraging fight against a blank-faced Saddler, waiting to take advantage of every single mistake. And, despite the loss, he did that. Pep won clean but his face at the finish was anything but, some of the same cuts that adorned his face after their first fight adorning him once more.

Pep had hoped to see the back of his brutal foe, but Saddler simply wiped the floor with the wider field, winning twenty-three in a row, eighteen of these by stoppage, lifting the 140-pound championship in the process. Pep could make him wait no more, and in 1950 they met once more.

“He got me in a double arm-lock,” sulked Pep after his ninth round quittage with an apparently damaged shoulder. Saddler saw it differently.

“Body punches. I could see in his eyes something was wrong with him but I didn’t think it was no shoulder.”

Whether by way of Saddler’s brutality in the clinch or brutality in the body attack, Pep had begged “no mas” and Sandy was the champion again. A fourth meeting was inevitable and was a farce. Saddler was slipping by this time and met Pep between losses to Tony DeMarco. What had become a bitter feud ended amidst bitter scenes, the fight running badly out of control and turning into as savage a foul-fest as had ever been seen in a New York ring. Both men had their licences to box suspended in the aftermath. Pep was generally handled in what was very much Saddler’s fight; in the second round he was dropped with what the Telegraph-Herald described as a combination thumb and “straightening head-butt.” But it was Pep who had the seventh taken away from him for excessive roughness and who at the end of the ninth round calmly quit on his stool for the second time.

Saddler’s overall offense, the knotted branch of his summary attack, was too much for Pep. No matter what this defensive genius threw up to protect himself Saddler found a crack for a one form of torture or another. Pep, basically unbeatable at the weight according to all other evidence, bowed to Saddler three times.

In a wider sense, Saddler did not achieve anything like as much as Willie, managing fewer defenses and showing greater inconsistencies throughout his savage career, but he remained absolutely deadly even past his very best, knocking out Lulu Perez with a single punch in four, breaking down Flash Elorde in thirteen. His prime domination of the field combined with his domination of a series against a genuine giant—no, God of the sport—makes a high ranking a must.

 

[solidus snake]

#22 Jimmy McLarnin (54-11-3)

Jimmy McLarnin blew his first title shot. His 1928 tilt at Sammy Mandell’s lightweight championship proved premature as he repeatedly walked onto the champion’s sharp left, lost his temper, missed. McLarnin would later claim that he had been thumbed, but to ringsiders it looked like what it was, a boy trying to outfight a man. It was five years before he was presented with another chance, facing the brilliant Young Corbett III for the 147-pound title. Corbett had never been stopped at welterweight; he would never be stopped at welterweight again; but McLarnin walked him onto punches for a KO1, perhaps the most sensational in boxing history. He immediately lost his title to Barney Ross before reclaiming it again only months later. When Ross grabbed it back it was clear that for McLarnin, the end was near, but he closed out his career going 1-1 in two incredibly savage battles with Tony Canzoneri before outpointing the great Lou Ambers in his very last fight.

As top-to-bottom win resumes go, McLarnin’s is amongst the best of all time. As a teenaged flyweight he picked off the future all-time great Fidel LaBarba twice, then moved up to box a draw with a veteran Pal Moore and beat no less a figure than Pancho Villa. Still serving his apprenticeship, he defeated future welterweight champion Jackie Fields, future bantamweight champion Bud Taylor, world title challenger Joe Glick and when he hit his prime, contenders and greats fell like bowling pins. He took vengeance against Mandell on two occasions, beat Petrolle twice, Sammy Fuller, Ray Miller, Ruby Goldstein, an aged Benny Leonard, Al Singer who declared McLarnin the best puncher he had ever faced and that he feared his neck had been broken by the knockout blow.

A boxer of the highest class as well as a puncher, few men match him out-and-out for names on a list. This must be tempered by the fact that he was often the bigger man and that the best he faced generally managed steal from him at least one in a series.

 

[solidus snake]

#21 Tony Canzoneri (141-24-10)

Tony Canzoneri’s fifteen-year, 175-fight career was a series of surges and spurts towards greatness that confuse both the eye and the mind. He won more than McLarnin, he lost more than McLarnin, and like McLarnin he blew his first title shot, going 0-1-1 against bantamweight champion Bud Taylor. He bested an emaciated Johnny Dundee struggling with the comeback trail in 1927 and then avenged himself upon a deposed Taylor before lifting the featherweight title against Benny Bass. Frenchman Andre Routis separated him from it a few months later and the following year he was beaten out up at lightweight by Sammy Mandell in his quest for another title. When Kid Berg decimated him in January of the new decade, Canzoneri’s journey seemed over; but in a second attempt at the world title Canzoneri shocked the world, separating champion Al Singer from his senses in a single round.

His pathology ran so deep that even his extended apprenticeship did not meet his potential. He needed more time to perfect his method. Short, thick, hair slicked back and placid of face even in the worst of pinches, Canzoneri had the look of a gangster but the style of a physicist. A destructive vapor of leans, feints, sells, pulled-punches and hard counters, he is a prototype too complex for mass production, a dead end in the expansion of boxing technique but personally brilliant enough to make it work. He was hell to box. He took his revenge on Kid Berg in an unprecedented three rounds, then outpointed him over fifteen, adding the junior-welterweight title to his lightweight kingship. Successful defenses followed against Philly Griffin and the brilliant Kid Chocolate. Losing the 140-pound championship, he continued to defend the lightweight title, beating both Petrolle brothers and re-lifting a piece of the light-welterweight title before he ran slap bang into Barney Ross, the man he would never beat. Still, he was not finished, beating Frankie Klick, Chocolate and Baby Arizmendi, the great Lou Ambers in a fight that restored his lightweight title to him and then, for good measure, Jimmy McLarnin up at welterweight. The beating he absorbed winning that fight was horrific and signaled the end of his prime, enabling Ambers and McLarnin to take their revenge but Canzoneri’s monumental greatness was established.

A three-weight world champion, elite at five, a ready dispatcher of fellow 100 ranked men and it is still not enough to break the top twenty. Above him lurk the behemoths, big and small but massive as planets, gravity spanning the years.

 

[solidus snake]

#20 Pernell Whitaker (40-4-1)
Pernell Whitaker made the fatal mistake of interrupting the powers that be in hijacking a Jose Luis Ramirez-Julio Cesar Chavez fight that had been planned for early 1988, insisting that Ramirez follow through on his promise to box him. Whitaker merrily packed up his 15-0 record and headed for foreign soil, unintimidated by the connections Ramirez’s management enjoyed on the European continent and expecting to dominate the 100 fight veteran in the other corner and lift his first alphabet strap. He was right about the first part but wrong about the second. In the first half of the fight a wide-eyed “Sweet Pea” boxed wonderfully. He snapped out a crackling southpaw jab, doubling it, trebling it, sweeping his trailing hand over the top even as Ramirez dared to edge forwards, stabbing a harder punch into his Mexican opponent’s ribs when the opportunity presented itself. He was at his unhittable, dazzling best. In the second half of the fight, he tired a little, hampered by a damaged hand, and Ramirez began to chug into range, still swallowing more punches than he landed but no longer embarrassed. The split decision victory that went his way though, was as embarrassing as any ever seen, one judge managing to find 118-113 in Jose’s favour, a candidate for the most bizarre scorecard in the history of fights.

The fight is significant in more than one sense because whilst Ramirez was able to fight Julio Cesar Chavez for lineage, Whitaker would have to wait until 1990 and his astonishing one round knockout of Juan Nazario to establish his own lineage, and wait even longer to match Julio Cesar Chavez. He finally tracked down his fellow pound-for-pound great in 1993 up at welterweight. Whitaker, now a seasoned veteran, controlled almost the entire fight, even out-punching the legendary in-fighter up close and forcing the Mexican to turn counterpuncher for spells in an attempt to wrestle back some measure of control. His punches feathering around an elusive Whitaker who stabbed Chavez up the middle and then turned on a pin to leave his opponent flailing at nothing. It was a masterful performance ten pounds north of his best weight but two of the judges colluded to rob him once more, ludicrously ruling a majority draw.

These two horrible decisions aside, Whitaker won nine “title” fights at lightweight including a total humiliation of Ramirez seventeen months after the original and against fellow strapholders Greg Haugen, Freddie Pendleton, Azumah Nelson and Juan Nazario, before stepping up to 140lbs, taking belts from Rafael Pineda, defending once and moving up to 147lbs where he won an additional nine title fights, finding time to add a strap at light-middle, before losing out to the much bigger Oscar De La Hoya at the age of thirty three. In his prime he was without a legitimate loss and dominated two weights with what amounts to some of the very best boxing ever seen in colour. He stands, along with Roy Jones, as the genuine colossus of the modern fight game, nothing less than the modern Sugar Ray Robinson in the sense that his enormous physical gifts were matched by a technical brilliance that sustained him when his body (and lifestyle) began to betray him.

BONUS Video

 

[solidus snake]

#19 Packey McFarland (69-0-5; Newspaper Decisions 37-1-1)

Records list a single newspaper loss for Packey McFarland to an unknown in 1904, the year of his professional debut. Occasionally described as a fifth round knockout, research has revealed the contest may have been awarded to the otherwise unremarkable Dusty Miller on a foul; McFarland reportedly took his revenge in an unlisted three-round knockout of the single man to beat him. Whatever the detail, he was never beaten again. Fighters of this era fought with great frequency, and McFarland was no different except in that one thing—he did not lose.

Incredibly, this near-perfect record over more than one-hundred fights never brought him a world title, but in meetings with champions of the past or future he was consistently and inarguable the better. In his key year of 1908, he outpointed the future lightweight king Freddie Welsh over ten fast and brilliant rounds before meeting former title claimant Jimmy Britt who he destroyed in six. Britt, who was “outclassed in every department,” had met both Terry McGovern and Joe Gans but labeled Packey the fastest fighter he had ever met. Referee Jack Welch, who had refereed Jack Johnson, Abe Attell and Joe Gans, amongst others, named him “one of the best boxers I ever saw.” Three months later he boxed Welsh to a controversial draw, named a McFarland win in many quarters but a legitimate tie by others, a result the two repeated in London two years later. The London bout was controversial according to the Cincinnati Enquirer’s London correspondent writing that the decision was “hooted from cellar to roof. Never was there such a scene in the club. The decision was unanimously declared the worst ever declared at the club…[E]ven those who wagered on Welsh joined in the demonstration.”

It would be 1912 before he would meet with another champion, this time up at welterweight where he met and bested welterweight title claimant Ray Bronson and then in 1913 Jack Britton, two years before he would lift the 147-pound crown. The wire report notes wryly that whilst McFarland was clearly slipping, finding a fighter to beat him was going to be difficult.

That unknown writer was quite correct. Britton tried again later in the year and once more came up short, and even after two years out of the ring he was able to come back and take the newspaper decision from the active and the great middleweight, Mike Gibbons, settling inexorably any argument concerning which of the two great denied men was the best fighter of the era to go without a title. Between that match and his defeat of Freddie Welsh, McFarland went a listed 20-0-5 and was on the right side of the argument in any meetings deemed to be draws. His victims included Tommy Murphy (credited with wins over Abe Attell and Ad Wolgast), Jimmy Duffy (credited with wins over Freddie Welsh and Ted Kid Lewis), Leach Cross (who beat Joe Rivers and Battling Nelson) and Owen Moran (one of the few men accredited with beating Wolgast and Nelson both).

Sporting an upright stance of varied depth, he owned the most cultured left hand of his era and used it to dominate his competition with a stylist’s joy supplemented by a puncher’s gristle, although it was his speed that really set him apart. So fast at hitting and moving that words like “bewildered” and “uncertain” littered the sports reports of the era in relation to his world-class opposition and that Owen Moran actually laughed at himself whilst he boxed Packey, shaking his head at his own inability to land. Like Roy Jones he seemed to box under different physical laws than that of the opposition—unlike Jones, he got out before the mortals could catch up to him, part of the reason he is listed here, with the truly immortal.

 

[solidus snake]

#18 Terry McGovern (59-5-4; Newspaper Decisions 6-1-4)

The destructive prowess of heavyweight upon heavyweight champion has been lauded and feti****ed in the past one-hundred years of boxing, but it is very probable that none of them—not Tyson, not Dempsey nor Marciano—had the sheer and destructive prowess of “Terrible” Terry McGovern.

Between turning professional in 1897 and the end of 1901, McGovern boxed sixty times and lost just twice on disqualifications. Pedlar Palmer was the poor soul caught holding the bantamweight title when McGovern bludgeoned his way to number one contendership, knocking out ten of twelve, chopping down made men like so much wheat. It is likely Palmer was not intimidated for he was a most excellent champion, victorious in six title fights and unbeaten since turning professional.

“McGovern simply battered his opponent into partial sensibility,” reported The San Francisco Call. After just 144 seconds, Palmer was “laying helpless but semi-conscious on the floor of the ring.” The brutal prototype for every swarming power-puncher to follow had been born.

He immediately relinquished his title and moved up to featherweight in search of bigger game, specifically the great featherweight champion, George Dixon. Terry wiped out nine consecutive featherweights in making his case, most impressively Harry Forbes, a bantamweight champion of the future who had only been stopped once before—also by McGovern in 1898. It had taken him fifteen rounds on that occasion, but on this occasion he shortened matters to two, punishing Forbes brutally for the crime of attacking him. Bigger or smaller, nobody extended him further than three rounds between title shots. By the time George Dixon gave him the nod, he was boxing with the apocalyptic savagery of a butcher turned trained killer.

A narrow favorite, Dixon started brightly, feinting and leading for the head, but McGovern unleashed upon him the most terrible body attack of the era, two-handed, each thudding blow bound inevitably for the champion’s kidneys. This pattern repeated itself through the early rounds, Dixon coming closest to saving himself with a left hook that sent McGovern into and nearly through the ropes in the second, and a huge right hand that staggered the challenger in the third; but that was all. Wearing him down with an incessant, autonomous offense, McGovern dropped Dixon as many as seven times in the eighth round. He was retired on his stool by his corner.

“Veteran followers of the prize ring,” commented the New York Tribune, “will look upon the result much as they did upon the downfall of [John] Sullivan or Jack Dempsey.”

McGovern was the first man to knock the legendary Dixon out. Six months later he met lightweight champion Frank Erne in a non-title match. Erne was coming off a stoppage victory over Joe Gans. Terry smashed him to pieces in three. In those twelve months, he became the first man to knock out the reigning bantamweight, featherweight and lightweight champions of the world. As intimidating in his short prime as Mike Tyson or Sonny Liston, he also brutalized the best fighters in the world in three different weights. Relative to his peers, perhaps only Henry Armstrong and Harry Greb can lay claim to twelve month periods as impressive. More likely, no one can.

 

[solidus snake]

#17 George Dixon (67-29-51; Newspaper Decisions 6-1-4)

George Dixon was a pioneer. As brilliant a technician as his era produced he was as much a pathfinder of boxing technique and style as Tommy Ryan or Nonpareil Jack Dempsey. Alas, the racism that ran rampant in much (but by no means all) of the sports-press of that time fetters even historians enlightened by these more reasoned times, and Dixon often doesn’t get the credit he deserves. His record, though, cannot be undermined by something as banal as prejudice, nor his great talent.

His prime lasted an astounding decade. Traveling to England to become the first black man to win a world title, he beat Nunc Wallace to claim the old-weight featherweight title, cementing that claim amidst tumultuous scenes against Johnny Murphy upon his return to America, overcoming a world-class opponent as well as multiple attempts at sabotage by a partisan crowd desperate to see the black man fail. He did not fail. The result was one of the greatest title runs in history that saw him box defense after defense of either the bantam or featherweight titles.

Dixon made eight successful defenses and won numerous non-title fights before dropping a questionable decision to Frank Erne. He immediately recaptured his title and avenged himself upon Erne before dropping a legitimate decision to Solly Smith (whom he had previously beaten by knockout). By this point he had been the best fighter in the world for a number of years, but was about to be usurped by the coming Joe Gans. Nevertheless, he reclaimed his title, then receiving a questionable decision of his own, over Oscar Gardner, his decline seemingly deepening but Dixon, as always, surprised, adding an additional eight title defenses until Terry McGovern chopped him down in 1900. He boxed on for another six years, but wins were few and far between. Having lost four in ten years, he would lose eleven in just two, going 1-10-11 in what heralded the saddest decline of one of boxing’s greatest trailblazers and warriors.

 

[solidus snake]

#16 Ray Leonard (36-3-1)

For some, Ray Leonard has only one peer in all of boxing, Sugar Ray Robinson, perhaps the greatest fighter ever to have lived. I believe there are other fighters that share this class, but I have some sympathy with those that think otherwise—both Rays had literally everything.

Leonard held a brutal shot, as he proved in fights with Tommy Hearns, against whom he also proved his power and heart. Against Hagler, whatever your own opinion of that decision, he demonstrated a maxed out boxing IQ and once in a generation type generalship. He was fast, fit, and technically brilliant but riffed with the best of them; he was close to perfect.

But, compared to most of the men on this list, he hardly boxed a career. Most of his fellow greats hadn’t even fought for a title when Leonard hung them up. Leonard is fascinating in that he crammed enough great wins into those few fights to find himself firmly ensconced in the top twenty regardless. Between 1979 and 1987 he defeated Wilfred Benitez, Roberto Duran and Thomas Hearns, then after a short retirement came back past-prime to shade Marvin Hagler. Few of the men ranked above him have four better wins, never mind the men ranked below. He also defeated Randy Shields, Floyd Mayweather Sr., Dave Green, Ayub Kalule and Donny Lalonde. His one prime loss is to the all-time great Roberto Duran but it was a fight the naturally smaller man should not really have been winning. In tandem with a relatively short career arch, it keeps him from the top fifteen.

BONUS Video

 

[solidus snake]

#15 Archie Moore (185-23-10)

Archie Moore is a testimony to the effects of gathering experience in boxing. As a young middleweight, although clearly already superb, his form against the best he faced was decidedly patchy. Stepping up class in 1939 after three years as a professional, Moore was outpointed by the great Teddy Yarosz who seems to have outfoxed him. He was also twice beaten by Shorty Hogue but in the first of what was to be a succession of turned corners, he boxed a draw with the brilliant Eddie Booker in ’41, calling upon that experience to lay Hogue low in just two rounds the following year. Moore had overcome the first marker denoting his improving quality. There would be many more in his career, his domination of Jack Chase then tempered by his one-sided loss to Charley Burley; piercing wins over Lloyd Marshall blunted by his defeat to Jimmy Bivins; his going 1-1 with the great Holman Williams undermined by the 3-0 drubbing Ezzard Charles dealt him. Despite these setbacks, finally, painfully, Moore summited the absolute heights, probably indicated by his three rematches and defeats of Jimmy Bivins, first edging him on points, then twice stopping him.

“I never went out thinking knockout at the start of the fight,” said Moore, who nevertheless became the all-time knockout king with 131 stoppages stretching from welterweight to heavyweight. “I’d go in there thinking, ‘Let’s see how I can hit this guy without getting hit. Can I work on is ribs? Can I wound him with a punch to the biceps?’ A lot of boxers don’t understand that a decent shot to the arm can make an opponent back off.”

This is the type of considered thinking and tactical awareness that built in Moore one of the most formidable strategic quilts ever sewn. One of the truly great ring generals, he left no stone unturned in his quest for tactical superiority. After stomach surgery left scar tissue on his abdomen, Moore would make a show of protecting it against an opponent, momentarily expose it and then counter the body shot he knew he had hooked and baited. The lessons he had learned against the infamous Black Murderer’s Row would finally be unleashed upon champion Joey Maxim in 1952, who he also beat twice in rematches. In his lengthy run to the title he had beaten fellow great Harold Johnson three times out of four, Billy Smith, Bert Lytell and had also begun edging his way towards heavyweight, a division which he would never rule but in which he would still do damage. In defense of his light-heavyweight title, which he only lifted at the age of thirty-nine, he knocked out Harold Johnson, Bobo Olson, Yolande Pompey, Tony Anthony and Yvon Durelle as well as outpointing Giulio Rinaldi and Joey Maxim. He never lost his title in the ring and up at heavyweight he defeated Howard King, Bert Whitehurst, Nino Valdes, knocking out much heavier men such as Bob Baker, Embrel Davidson and James Parker.

It took him three decades, but the Old Mongoose was eventually able to distinguish himself from the men that harried him so in his youth, Charley Burley, Holman Williams, Eddie Booker and Shorty Hogue all long retired by the time Archie Moore ruled the world.

 

[solidus snake]

#14 Barney Ross (72-4-3; Newspaper Decisions 2-0)

Unquestionably the greatest man on this list, upon his retirement Barney Ross enlisted in the United States Marine Corps and demanded he be sent overseas to fight in World War Two rather than kept at home in a ceremonial role like so many other celebrities. He fulfilled his self-determined obligations and more, killing a reported twenty Japanese soldiers in defense of three wounded comrades, carrying the only other survivor of the engagement to safety behind his one-man battle. He was awarded the Silver Star.

He returned home addicted to painkillers and heroin, an addiction he broke in the second toughest fight of his life. Perhaps his unbreakable heart is in part responsible for his astonishing achievements in the boxing ring.

Between beating the excellent Ray Miller in 1932 and his retirement in 1938, Ross lost two fights—one, a split decision loss to the great Jimmy McLarnin, disputed, twice avenged, and once to Henry Armstrong in his very last fight. He beat:

Ray Miller, Battling Battalino, Billy Petrolle twice, Joe Ghnouly, Tony Canzoneri in two title fights, Sammy Fuller, Frankie Click, Jimmy McLarnin twice, future middleweight champion Ceferino Garcia, Phil Furr and Izzy Jannazzo, winning the 135-pound, the 140-pound and the 147-pound titles in the process. Never anything like a full-grown welterweight, he was still able to defend that title several times after winning and re-winning it from McLarnin, before Armstrong caught up with him.

Along with Canzoneri and McLarnin, Ross made up the holy-trinity of that era’s boxing deities, and he was the master. He defeated the other two twice whilst losing only once to McLarnin, going 4-1 against his generation’s best who both rank here in the top 30 all time. Never knocked down in his professional career, a chin of hewn granite was the bedrock of a technical styling that nevertheless placed him in the danger zone against bigger men and brutal punchers. Capable of outboxing the faster Canzoneri, or outfighting the big-punching McLarnin, Ross was one of the defining talents to box between Harry Greb and Sugar Ray Robinson, his astonishing triple-crown achievement and as wonderful a prime-run as can be seen outside of the top ten seeing him sneak onto this list just ahead of Ancient Archie.

 

[solidus snake]

#13 Willie Pep (229-11-1)

Can a fighter be said to be in his prime after surviving a plane crash that fractured both his back and his leg? If not, Willie Pep lost exactly once in his prime, to the naturally bigger world-class lightweight Sammy Angott, also the only loss he would post in his first 136 fights. Already the reigning featherweight champion of the world, Pep had embarrassed the huge punching Chalky Wright over fifteen one-sided rounds late in 1942. Pep was a nightmare for a stalking slugger like Wright. Perhaps the best pure boxer ever to have fought, his style was propelled almost entirely by faultless footwork that left him out of range in two short and graceful steps but brought him back in to range with the same smooth elegance. He feinted with his feet, boxing high on his toes whether he was pivoting, stepping out or stepping in, coming down only when he was ready to punch and it was safe to do so. Fundamentally correct in essence his style was technician-plus in the sense that what he did could not be taught or learned, it was an instinctive understanding of the harmony of distance and relative positioning and a fighter so exquisitely balanced as to be able to take advantage. It is something that can be said or implied about every fighter left to discuss but it is perhaps especially true of Pep: there has never been another one like him.

In part, this is a matter of era. Pep’s incredible potentiality was fulfilled by the experience he accumulated in more than 240 fights. In appraising his record there is a concern voiced by some that Pep built the greatest run in the sport’s history against weak opposition, that his record contains a great deal of filler. It is true that he didn’t box ranked men every week, but he did outbox, outhustle and sometimes humiliate a roster of former, present and future champions that belies those concerns. In addition to Wright, who he beat several times, he defeated the diminutive former featherweight champion Joey Archibald; former featherweight champion Jackie Wilson; tricked, trapped and knocked out future featherweight champion Sal Bartolo; completely outboxed the primed all-time great bantamweight champion, Manuel Ortiz; future lightweight champion Paddy DeMarco; the superb European featherweight champion Ray Famechon; and former NBA featherweight champion Phil Terranova. Terranova was an excellent and difficult fighter who would go on to beat the man that would define the second half of Pep’s career: Sandy Saddler.

Pep beat Saddler only once, in their second confrontation regarded as one of the most extraordinary boxing displays in history, including by Pep himself who named it the greatest night of his career. In their three other meetings, Saddler outhustled and ground down Pep, stopping him on each occasion, denying Pep space and ripping him out of his comfort zone with a combination of brutal offense and absolutely superb pressure footwork. Losing 3-1 to the best fighter he met in one of boxing’s most astonishing careers does hurt Pep’s standing here; had he retired in early 1950 after taking his revenge on his nemesis, he would likely rank even higher. As it stands, his nine defenses boxed over two spells as featherweight champion, in combination with perhaps the greatest hot streak in boxing fought against quality opposition sees Pep nestled just outside the top ten.

 

[solidus snake]

#12 Mickey Walker (94-19-4; Newspaper Decisions 37-7-1)

Think of a fighter weighing over 200 pounds; Mickey Walker would take that fight. His own weight varied greatly during what is one of the most storied careers in history, from 140 to 175 pounds, but it was up at heavyweight he made his most stunning impact. He outpointed the 210-pound Bearcat Wright, the 200-pound contenders Paulino Uzcudun Johnny Risko and King Levinsky, rated all, he knocked out the 200-pound Les Kennedy in two rounds, the 223-pound Arthur De Kuh and the 205-pound Salvatore Ruggirello in just one, fought future heavyweight world champion Jack Sharkey to a draw and fought former heavyweight champion Max Schmeling so hard the German found himself begging the referee to stop the fight as Walker sucked up an horrific beating and kept coming. He made himself a legitimate heavyweight contender despite the fact that he never weighed in as one and stood just 5’7. “It was my idea to fight the big guys,” Walker would say casually some years later, “to see if I really could. As a kid, I found it easier to fight big guys.”

Raw ingredients make for the best stew and Walker brought extreme durability, a very nice punch, and frightening physical strength. These are all things that can be said about another welterweight slayer of heavies, Barbados Joe Walcott who retired just eight years before Walker turned professional in 1919. Like Walcott, Walker did seem to find it easier to fight big guys, the jaw-dropping feats of giant-killing he perpetrated amongst the heavyweights not reflected by dominance or wider resume at his natural weights of welterweight and middleweight.

Certainly the most natural heir to welterweight grandmaster Jack Britton, he nevertheless needed two bites at the old man to pick him off. He then managed defenses against Pete Latzo, Lew Tendler, Bobby Barrett and in a close struggle with Dave Shade, who he edged out to claim a 2-1 victory in their series. Latzo then returned to take his title from him and after another loss to Joe Dundee, Walker moved up. Having already been beaten soundly by Harry Greb at middle, he needed a highly debatable decision to beat Tiger Flowers but with that out of the way he ripped some superb scalps at middleweight and light-heavyweight: Tommy Milligan, Mike McTigue, whom he had also bested in a no-decision contest when Mike had held the light-heavyweight title, Jock Malone, Leo Lomski, Paul Berlenbach and the fearsome Ace Hudkins. He would never lift the championship at 175, bested by both Tommy Loughran and Maxie Rosenbloom for the title that would have forced him into the top ten, but even Rosenbloom fell to him in a non-title match less than a year later.

Boxing with the bigger men is what made Walker truly great and the period between 1927 and 1931, five full calendar years and thirty-seven fights during which he was only beaten by Loughran is what squeezes him ahead, barely, of Willie Pep.

 

[solidus snake]

#11 Benny Leonard (90-6-1; Newspaper Decisions 93-18-7)

Just as the alphabet governing bodies are the enemy of clarity in the modern era, so the no-decision bout could confuse the title picture one-hundred years ago. A champion refuses to put up the title in anything but a no-decision bout against an emerging talent, that talent outboxes the champion for a one-sided newspaper decision, and what do you have? An outclassed champion who up and walks away with the title anyway. It is a wonderful thing then, when a truly great challenger finds a way to rip that title from the opponent anyway, by knocking out a champion who can box only to survive, by stopping a champion who only has to make the final bell to remain the champion of the world. This is what Benny Leonard was able to do against no less a figure than Freddie Welsh in 1917. Welsh had never been stopped before and never would be stopped again but Leonard, who had won and lost a newspaper decision to Welsh in the previous two years, did what the great ones do and found a way. Thirty seconds after the opening bell for the ninth of ten rounds, Leonard broke through with a right hand that sent Welsh to his knees. He hauled himself to his feet, as champions will, but after being dropped twice more he was rescued by referee Kid McPartland. The Leonard era had begun.

It lasted seven and a half years, a time during which he may have crept into double figures for defenses. The picture is made uncertain by Leonard’s coming in overweight for his 1920 defense against Charley White and by the confusion surrounding both the weight stipulation and the bizarre non-effort of opponent Jimmy Duffy in 1919. He was no abuser of the no-decision rule however, and when he failed to put away Lew Tendler whilst jabbing and crossing him to a clear newspaper decision in 1922 he repeated the feat in a legitimate but close decision bout in 1923.

For all that he was not the busiest of champions. He was a busy, busy fighter often boxing three times a month during his early twenties which included more than one sojourn up to welterweight in search of that title, boxing a close no-decision with champion Ted Kid Lewis in 1918, and losing in a bizarre disqualification to then champion Jack Britton in 1922. Never the man at welterweight he nevertheless outpointed bigger men like Soldier Bartfield and Jack Britton [newspaper decision 1918] during the course of a career that did not see him dominate competition as brilliant as that of Joe Gans or engage in the weight-hopping exploits of Roberto Duran but that nevertheless saw him defeat multiple champions of the world and first-class men of all styles. He retired as undefeated champion of the world, unbeaten by knockout or in decision fights between 1913 and 1932, and if his comeback was deemed a failure (he went 19-1-1) it was only because he set the bar so high for himself.

His placement here outside the top ten is perhaps the ultimate endorsement of those that are enshrined within.

 

[solidus snake]

Whew.  I'd like to see people's opinions on the list (how close is it to your own??)

We are knocking on the doors of the top 10 gentlemen, some places of fighters will shock you to your core.

 

[threeoneoh]

chavez at 35?
lol that list needs some work.

 

[rook]

Mayweather is not going to fight Canelo, he probably won't even fight again at 154. He's going to look for guys like Devon Alexander and Kell Brook.

Pre Showtime deal, I would've said you're wrong. Canelo would represent the biggest payday, esp on Mexican Independence Weekend. PPV numbers would be huge BUT...

Floyd is guaranteed 30 million per fight BEFORE sales under the new deal. :x Dude is gonna coast for the next 6 fights...

The promotion for Ghost/Floyd has been HORRIBLE. Floyd hasn't been doing any interviews...

Only way I can see Floyd fighting Canelo is if he loses some fight prior and he's like F it, mind as well get a big paycheck.

My thoughts as welll.

How many more fights do you guys see Floyd fighting after Ghost?

 

[freakydestroyer]

Mayweather is not going to fight Canelo, he probably won't even fight again at 154. He's going to look for guys like Devon Alexander and Kell Brook.

Pre Showtime deal, I would've said you're wrong. Canelo would represent the biggest payday, esp on Mexican Independence Weekend. PPV numbers would be huge BUT...

Floyd is guaranteed 30 million per fight BEFORE sales under the new deal. :x Dude is gonna coast for the next 6 fights...

The promotion for Ghost/Floyd has been HORRIBLE. Floyd hasn't been doing any interviews...

Only way I can see Floyd fighting Canelo is if he loses some fight prior and he's like F it, mind as well get a big paycheck.

My thoughts as welll.

How many more fights do you guys see Floyd fighting after Ghost?

Well his contract is for 6 fights in 30 months.most people think there's no way since he's fought like once a year. But it's possible if he fights guys like Devon Alexander, Kell Brook, Amir Khan, Danny Garcia, etc. If his fight vs Ghost Guerrero is close, there will probably be a rematch.

 

[solidus snake]

chavez at 35?
lol that list needs some work.

Why do you think that?

 

[951guero]

Well his contract is for 6 fights in 30 months.most people think there's no way since he's fought like once a year. But it's possible if he fights guys like Devon Alexander, Kell Brook, Amir Khan, Danny Garcia, etc. If his fight vs Ghost Guerrero is close, there will probably be a rematch.

He basically got the hugest pay day of his life and can basically take anyone on! Including bums! Smh

I guess Canelo wants to fight on September 14 as the same day Mayweathers fight this year but doesn't want to be on the undercard
Ol ginger now making demands now but truly doubt Golden boy or showtime would budge