Former heavyweight king Larry Holmes celebrates his 75th birthday today, and that all-important number has added significance because it just so happens that the “Easton Killer” boxed exactly 75 times as a professional. Holmes, who boxed from 1973 to 2002 and who retired from the sport with a final record of 69-6(44), ruled the heavyweight world from June 1978 to September 1985.

Holmes is today considered one of the best, most talented, toughest and bravest massive men in the history of the division. Holmes is also unique for his incredible left jab, arguably the BEST ever, and for his sometimes almost supernatural regenerative powers.

Holmes’ stab was a thing of beauty, and the weapon stunned and even charmed his opponent. Holmes’ ability to recover after raw, chin-slapping bombs from Earnie Shavers and Renaldo Snipes crushed him remains the stuff of legend. But it’s all true, Holmes somehow not only survived after top-scoring Shavers and Snipes, but rose to win by stoppage.

Holmes also gave us what probably ranks as the greatest round in heavyweight history, an epic one, and it all came in the 15th round of his war with Ken Norton. Yes, Holmes was special. Holmes never shied away from anyone, reigning for over seven years, and the fighter from Easton, Pennsylvania, racked up an impressive 20 world titles.

Among the great fighters Holmes defeated during his long career:

Shavers
Norton
Mike Weaver
Snipes
Gerry Cooney
Randy “Tex” Cobb
Tim Witherspoon
James “Bonecrusher” Smith
Carl Williams.

And of course, when Holmes finally lost both his grip on the heavyweight crown and his undefeated record, it came after his most controversial decision, a 15-round loss to Michael Spinks. The rematch resulted in an even more controversial decision, with Spinks defeating Holmes again. Retreating with a bad taste in his mouth, Holmes returned, his attacks coming at the peak of Mike Tyson. We all felt that was the end. But surprisingly, Holmes, a natural fighter, was back again, with no fewer than 24 additional fights under his belt after the Tyson disaster. Holmes earned the title back twice, winning hard-fought decisions in honorable performances against Evander Holyfield and then Oliver McCall.

Holmes’ last massive win came in 1992 when he upset Ray Mercer. Holmes was 42 years ancient at the time. Stopping only once, when he entered the ring rusty before the Tyson fight, Holmes had one of the best chins in heavyweight history. And that jab… and that ability to come back when she gets hurt… and that title defense… and that pretty amazing list of defeated opponents.

Yes, Larry Holmes is a very special player.

This month, sitting unnoticed at York Hall was a former player who once made as many headlines as Chris Eubank and Nigel Benn.

Writers have made comparisons between Colin “Sweet C” McMillan and Sugar Ray Leonard.

“When I was growing up, my inspirations were Muhammad Ali and Sugar Ray Leonard,” said McMillan, a former WBO featherweight champion, now 58.

“Ali and Leonard were smart fighters, fighters who punched and didn’t get hit.”

At his peak, McMillan was almost untouchable, as Dennis Adams knows better than anyone.

Adams and McMillan fought countless rounds of sparring when both were trained by the overdue Howard Rainey.

They stayed in touch after their boxing careers ended, and McMillan now works as an advisor to Adams’ son, Billy, who he saw win all six rounds against Marvin Solano at York Hall this month to improve to 4-0.

“His jab was like lightning,” recalled Dennis Adams of his sparring sessions with McMillan.

“The gym used to say, ‘When you feel it, throw it.’ As soon as he hit you, you had to throw him. If you had waited a split second, he would have been gone.

Those he didn’t hit had doubts about McMillan.

The Boxing News headline before his fight with Maurizio Stecca for the WBO featherweight championship in May 1992 read: “Fighter Or Phoney?”

There were those who considered McMillan a fraud in this most arduous business. He was too shrewd, too pretty and too nice for boxing.

“My parents wanted me to go to university and become a lawyer or an accountant,” he said, but instead he struggled for money and had the confidence to take on the venture.

“I had problems in the boxing world,” he said, “because I wanted to take more control of my career.

“I went to the promoters and asked, ‘What can you do for me?’ and they didn’t like it because they were used to deciding.

“But if you’re a fighter who has some potential, you can take care of yourself and still be successful.

“I talked to many former champions and learned from their mistakes.

“I wanted to be in control of my career so that when it all ended, I wouldn’t have anyone else to blame. I wanted to make all the decisions.

“Sweet C” was good enough to do it and attracted celebrities to the ring who loved his lisping suaveness and breathtaking skills.

Coming off an early defeat to capable north London midfielder Alan McKay, McMillan took the British featherweight title from Gary DeRoux in May 1991.

“I remember being told before the fight, ‘He doesn’t like pressure being put on him,’” DeRoux recalled, “but it’s challenging to execute your game plan when you’re getting hit with quick shots from behind the scenes.” all angles.”

What was better was that 26-year-old McMillan challenged Stecca at the Alexandra Pavilion.

The Italian won gold at the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics, and in 45 previous professional fights he had only been beaten by high-class cinematographer Louie Espinoza.

Stecca reigned as WBO champion for the second time, winner of six of seven world title fights and known as a boxer who made few mistakes.

Promoter Frank Warren had enough faith in McMillan to pay Stecca handsomely to come to north London and voluntarily defend his championship.

Stecca “Sweet C” achieved such versatility that he became arguably the top British boxing star of the time.

“I had a great time,” McMillan said. “Chris Eubank, Nigel Benn were there and my name was there with them. I was in good company.”

The performance against Stecca was compared to British champions of previous eras.

“Master McMillan’s show is a throwback to the days of Winstone, Buchanan,” we read on the front page of Boxing News after McMillan’s masterclass.

For all his experience, Stecca had no answer to what Jim Watt described in commentary for ITV as “perfect boxing” from the challenger.

Already after the bell that ended the second second, the Italian expressed his frustration, and McMillan never allowed him to fight.

Time and time again, Stecca missed and ate the pricks. McMillan barely threw a right hand until the final rounds. He didn’t have to.

“This evening was the culmination of all the years of challenging work by both amateur and professional,” McMillan said, “and I was perfectly prepared for it.

“I didn’t want to miss my chance.

“I wanted to show everyone that I am the best in the world. I have always been very competitive and wanted to be the best.

“I went in there, took control and put on a show. I controlled the pace. I fought my fight.”

McMillan won by eight rounds on two cards, two on the second, and what’s more, he left the ring without a trace.

This night looked like a possible platform for McMillan. Instead, it turned out to be the highlight.

McMillan was ruled out of his first defense with a shoulder injury in the eighth round against underrated Colombian Ruben Dario Palacio.

After seven arduous rounds, McMillan was ahead on all three scorecards.

“I was in good shape and so much was expected of me,” McMillan said. “There was talk of fighting for unification [WBC champion] Paul Hodkinson.”

McMillan finally got a chance to regain his world title. Palacio tested positive for HIV just 48 hours before his scheduled defense against John Davison, with Welshman Steve Robinson stepping in to fight the North East crowd favorite for the vacant belt.

Boxing without nerves Robinson, whose record was an unflattering 13-9-1, won a deserved split decision. In his first defense, he faced McMillan and defeated him on points.

“After the shoulder popped out, I was never the same again,” McMillan said. “I became British champion but I wasn’t the same player anymore. A shoulder injury interrupted my career.”

The end came after Paul Ingle took the British title in January 1997.

“I’m philosophical about it,” said McMillan, who finished with a 31-4 (14) record.

“Looking back on it, I’m glad the shoulder injury happened after winning the world title and not before it.

“My goal has always been to go to the Olympics and win the world title. I didn’t go to the Olympics, but I beat the Olympic champion and won the world title.

“I know I could have achieved bigger and better things. But it wasn’t meant to be.

McMillan sees similarities between himself and Billy Adams, the stylish southerner from Upminster who won all 18 rounds he boxed as a professional.

“Billy’s dream was to go to the Olympics,” he said, “and that was my dream too.

“Billy couldn’t keep that weight. It wasn’t supposed to be for either of us.

Although he didn’t make the Olympics, Adams gained international experience with Great Britain during his 53-7 amateur career and showed his skills coaching the threatening Solano.

“I watched a lot of Billy’s amateur fights,” McMillan said. “I saw it had potential.”

McMillan thought he was done with boxing management after working with Audley Harrison early in his professional career, as well as Terry Dunstan, “Mighty” Joe Youthful and Nigel Benn’s cousins ​​Paul and Michael Bowen.

Since 2012 he has focused on the Colin McMillan Boxing Training Academy based at the Redbridge Sports and Recreation Center and also visits local schools to promote the values ​​of boxing.

McMillan received the British Empire Medal in the 2019 Up-to-date Year’s Honors list in recognition of his charitable work, before returning to professional boxing with Hamzah Sheeraz and his cousin Umar Khan.

“I still go to shows and do a dinner show once a year for the Barking Amateur Boxing Club,” he said.

“Hamzah’s dad, Kam, is energetic among amateurs [with Five Star ABC] and he wanted me to see Hamzah and Umar.

“I saw them working, I talked to them and I said, ‘Yes.’ I came as a technical advisor and mentor.

“I give them some technical tips and advice about life outside of boxing.

“I have been with them for four or five years. It’s electrifying to be able to fight some talented fighters again.”

Sheeraz said: “I watched Colin fight and he was restless and swift. Boxing is like chess and the key is to think a move or two ahead. You don’t want them to know what you’re going to do next.

What makes a fighter or boxer scary? Bad impact force? Really nasty personality and behavior? Utterly intimidating looking down skills that terrify not only the other guy in the ring, but also us, the fans, who are watching?
Maybe all this and more.

Here today or tonight, when it’s shadowy and the wind may howl and the kids come calling trick or treat, let’s look back at some of the scariest, most fearsome warriors of all.

In no particular order:

Edwin Valero.

Valero is truly a nightmare, and not in a fun and cordial, “Joyful Halloween” kind of way. Valero, a man seemingly possessed both in and out of the ring (pardon the pun), was actually a good fighter and potentially a great boxer. But aside from his achievements in the ring, Valero is best known today for the brutal murder he committed, and the mad fighter tragically took the life of his own wife. Valero then took his own pathetic life in his cell, and the tortured former champion hanged himself.

In miniature, if there is a place called hell, Valero is burning down there.

Sonny Liston.

Liston was a man who could turn an opponent’s legs to jelly, with both a punch and a baleful glare, before hostilities had even begun in the squared circle. Liston had truly terrifying punching power, and one bad look from Sonny caused many proud fighters to sink mentally. However, beyond his shadowy side portrayed in the media, Liston was considered a genuinely nice guy who loved children and had a great sense of humor.

Liston has for some time become known by many people as the most misunderstood fighter of all.

Mike Tyson.

How could Tyson not make such a list? Capable, in truly insane mode, of biting a man on the ear or trying his hardest to break another ring foe’s arm, Tyson was at one point capable of giving many children nightmares. Tyson in his prime was ferocious and regularly uttered some terrifying sounds: “I tried to grab him by the tip of his nose so the bone would go into his brain,” Tyson once said of his opponent.

Tyson, like Liston, had a truly kind side, but to many he was always considered a heavyweight terrorist that no one could defeat before everything fell apart.

Carlos Monzon.

Some say that “Escopeta” deserves to be called the best middleweight of all. But one thing Monzon didn’t deserve was freedom. It was a truly ghastly turn of events that ended the lives of Monzon and his wife Alicia Muniz in February 1988. Monzon, who had already shown the shadowy side of his nature, choked Muniz unconscious, then threw her (and himself) from the balcony. When confronted by authorities, Monzon claimed that the incident was the result of an accident.

Monzon, who was (legally) cold-blooded during the fight, had a blood-curdling mixture of ice and warm rage coursing through his veins as his shadowy side overwhelmed him.