By Ted Spoon

KABOOM! reverberated around the Mandalay Bay arena when Lennox Lewis’ right hand flattened the then former undisputed Heavyweight champion, Hasim Rahman. The bills feature attraction had a lot of critics divided, but for me, the outcome was as expected as their previous fight was unexpected.

As Lewis closed the gap on the ring his face was a picture of piercing focus -- the polar opposite of his uninterested demeanor five months prior in Africa, where everything went wrong. Calmly, Lewis shuffled through the crowd with a visible intensity brooding underneath his composure. The air of confidence that surrounded his finely chiseled hulk confirmed that he was in a frightening state of mind. It was a victory before the first bell gonged. 

My self assured theory upon observing Lewis was made an emphatic reality as he became a 3-time Heavyweight champion after demolishing his overmatched rival in 4 rounds. 

Like Lennox, distinguished champions are recognized as such because they overcame problems with the talent that initially led them to the crown. While many did not lose, they did not always win, convincingly that is, which prompted a second clash and vital tactical adjustment.

When needed, subtle style alterations were rarely better applied than by former heavyweight supreme, Joe Louis. With a perfect 10-0 record in rematches, all by KO, Louis’ natural ability was matched only by Jack Blackburn’s wisdom on pugilism. When the student and trainer were combined the world witnessed an explosive boxer dominate the division for a record that still stands at 11 years, 8 months, 11 days.

During Louis’ long stint as champion he had a few rough rides, but never did the usually dynamic ‘Brown Bomber’ put in a less satisfactory piece of work than when he was bulled to the ropes for fifteen by the fearless man from Chile, Arturo Godoy.

Louis had no answer to his roughhouse opponent; every time Godoy closed the gap, Joe could not get off. Louis was accustomed to keeping the fight ring center, but he was denied that comfort zone, as his counters did not have the range of his ducking opponent. Neither man was able to notably hurt the other and Godoy’s close quarters battle probably smothered his own work just as much as Louis’, but the champ was made to look bad.  

Evenly contested was the bout, but awarded to Louis over 15 -- a decision that Godoy’s optimistic corner were scornful towards. More than a couple of the present spectators favoured that Godoy’s efforts had won him the fight.

Just over four months later was all it took to set up the rematch.

During preparation, Blackburn and Louis devised a plan to stop Godoy in his tracks as he leapt forth out of his crouch. In their first fight, Godoy denied Louis the space to box, this time, Louis was going to deny Godoy the pleasure of crowding.

Having previously spent an uncomfortable 15 rounds with Arturo, Louis was ready to happily close the book on this chapter as he entered the ring. The bell called for both men, and revealed the champion to be deadly serious. From the outset Joe had his mans measure; finely judging the range of engagement with steady skips to steer him off the ropes. When Godoy ducked forth that was Louis’ call to set his feet into the canvas. Just like before, Arturo leaped in to rough him up, but halfway there his face collided with expertly timed counters.

Tremendously short uppercuts and hooks were the bane of Godoy’s rushes time after time. The story of the bout was akin to a dog chasing its tale -- Godoy continually tried to take the fight to Joe, but all the meanwhile he was getting taken apart.

By the seventh round, Godoy’s heavily swelled a lacerated visage bared more than hint of desperation. His quickly degrading state just spurred on Louis to ‘up’ the pace and put the finishing touches to his butchering job. Short, sharp punches continued to reign on Godoy until he sagged to the floor for the first time in his professional career. Saved by the bell, Arturo was dropped twice more, the last punch being a vintage Louis right cross. As Godoy was left on his knees, composing himself to carry on again, the referee had to restrain the frustrated warrior to explain that the fight had to be stopped.

Louis’ brilliance in return bouts was mirrored during the career of a Cuban known as Jose Napoles - a name synonymous with Welterweight domination during the 1960’s & 70’s. Napoles was slick, powerful and loaded with ring savvy to the gills, but a pair of high cheekbones spawned a cut problem that would haunt him throughout his time in the ring. 

Stoppages due his vulnerable skin had been reversed a couple of times in the past, but it looked like it may have been the end of one very long road when a rematch with hard man Armando Muniz was a set in stone following one of the worst ever decisions.

The aging champion, whose bad (alcoholic) habits began to get the better of him, was drawn into a brawl and seemed to have little, if anything, left in reserve when it was declared that the scheduled 15 round bout was over after the 12th. A new champion looked to have emerged but a technical decision was submitted in Napoles’ favor. Jose’s face was a mess thanks to Armando’s fists, but Muniz’s much sought after championship victory never came to fruition when the newly appointed WBC president, Jose Sulaiman, cut his friend a break.

Now at 35 years of age, and owner to many taxing contests, Napoles had to work against the grain in order to iron out another crease in his record. Stints in the gym proved hard work, but eventually successful in chiseling the faded magician into the best possible shape.

Muniz was a game, pressing fighter who could get more than just the opponents attention with his punches. He had put the champion through a spot of hell first time around, so Jose knew this fight, win or lose, would demand all of his fighting qualities if he were to make his presence known.

After the rematch came to a close, and 15 rounds were completed, Napoles had convincingly retained his crown. The fatigued victor was clearly battle scarred but how Muniz ever made it to the final bell is another story.

In the heated struggle, Napoles constantly out-did his dogged opponent; long range, inside, off the ropes - Jose’s sizzling combinations found their mark whatever the position he found himself in. A deceptive jab began and rounded of an attractive arsenal while he steadily back peddled to draw Muniz onto disguised shots.  

Pushed very hard again, but this time Napoles had an extra gear, which he dedicated to honing in on any of Muniz’s exposed anatomy. In the eighth round, Muniz found himself on the floor -- dipping at the knees Jose got Armando to react and then pulled a 1-2, left hook combination out of nowhere. It would have been wise to stay on the floor as Napoles played pinball with Muniz’s head in the following round. 

From then on till the last bell it was a case of Napoles just edging himself away from the heavy punches but staying in punching range and returning with interest. Muniz began to flail away near the end and copped sharp single pop‘s followed by creative volleys.

No consolation to Muniz was the fact he got a rematch, but at least the one called ‘Mantequilla’ removed any bouts of who should be wearing the crown.

Manipulating the rules has been a part of boxing since it began. A more subtle form of this is the terrible decisions, in particular, the corrupt judges that have discredited the ‘fight game’.

An instant classic in this genre was when Lightweight sensation, Pernell Whitaker hooked up with Jose Luis Ramirez. As the verdict was given, and Ramirez’s corner began to jump about in their elation, Whitaker abruptly went to the floor, gloves on his face. A mixture of despair and disbelief was written all over his body.

Whitaker, for the majority, soundly out boxed Ramirez as he kept him on the outside of his southpaw jab, but in the fourth round he broke his right hand after it bounced off the top of Ramirez’s head. In retrospect, this sudden ailment must have helped Ramirez made the necessary amount of the rounds close enough to get the better share in the end.

While Pernell felt, and was, hard done by, this mistake on behalf of the officials paved the way for a ‘Sweet Pea’ master class when they squared off for a second time.

Whitaker was always in superb shape at 135lbs. He had a super high punch output, perhaps to counter his lack of genuine power, but he could tattoo any fighter with the sheer amount of leather he threw. 

As the fight began, Whitaker initiated his circling movement. Pernell’s jab, his bread and butter, worked double time on Ramirez’s head and the left was not far behind. Unrelenting combinations found their mark, then Whitaker would pivot and attack from another angle - ‘POP, POP, POP…SMACK!’. Utterly dominant was Whitaker from rounds 1-6, but never did he indulge in his position and always brought his left hand back up for the odd right hooks that came his way. The kind of offence he was creating from his distinctively defensive posture was a testament to his aptitude for fighting. 

The ever animated Lou Duva expressed his delight at Whitakers progress: “Ray Robinson couldn’t do it as good as this baby, you‘re beautiful out there!”. Lou may have had a point -- the way Whitaker was managing to contain Ramirez made the fight appear like a high-paced sparring session, not a world championship bout.

Only in the 8th round did Ramirez make a real case for a round as he took whatever fight he could to Pernell. The pace from Whitaker went down a touch, but he handled proceedings without fault, and even showboated for the crowd in the last round.

The scoring was a near landslide victory on all cards in favor of Whitaker, and this time the decision accurately reflected the fight.

Whether a fighter is given a close contest, a gift decision, or raw deal, it is up to them to come back and wipe up the spilt milk, regardless of who made the mess. How a boxer handles adversity is the primary yardstick for measuring ones greatness, and hopefully, they will continue to climb over walls to give us something to cherish…or even write about.

Ted Spoon is a boxing historian who is based in the UK.