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Boxing History

Editor selection: When the Mexican hero Julio Cesar Chavez went 89-0 against Andy Holligan

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Julio Cesar Chavez

During the roll in Mexico in the winter of 1993, the great Robbie Davies was in Ringside in his Blazer from the games of the Nations Community. Behind the scenes, in a frigid room used by the student Matadors, Andy Holligan was preparing to fight the hero of all Mexico, Julio Cesar Chavez, for the title of WBC a delicate beef weight. There was no need for bookmakers.

At night, when he approached the ring, the fans were focused on the cheapest seats – not seats, only concrete slabs – around fires burning metal drums. I saw high flames, whenever someone spitted his lips full of beers in barrels. It was a vision of hell from my unthreatening seat, but Holligan had a sedate choice and knew exactly what he signed. “I’m not stupid, I’m fighting a living legend,” he said on Wednesday.

Davies threw his blows, screaming, delighted and dived during the fight. He was a man completely devoid of any concept of fear, that is. He was an ideal travel companion, and he just added a tight, tight blazer to its appearance.

It was a lost and painful cause, and at the end of the fifth round Arthur Mercante, the iconic judge, went to the corner of Holligan. Mercante told Colin Moorcroft: “I think this fight should end.” Moorcroft and Frank Warren pulled out Holligan. It was the perfect break. Chavez moved to 89 wins that night and without failures.

A few days before the fight, there was a run on the streets of Puebly with Chavez, a plain idea in which the Master of Mexico escaped, and thousands would go up to him and down the cobbled streets. It was an elevator from Rocky and there would be stray dogs, boys with shoes, jovial teenagers, cameras and publicity. It made sense; Brief gear, nice photos, and then a word with an idol. However, it turns out that I had the right attitude, but at the wrong height. At 7200 feet I finished after 10 minutes, catching my breath, sweating, fighting and drinking water, hallucinating on the stairs of the restaurant, which gave me chicken with chocolate last night. This is a local delicacy. The run was not nice and the chicken was not for me.

Holly Stein/Allport

After returning to Maison Del Exportion, a great fight hotel, in which the management increased by prices by about 300 percent without any warning, in the Michael Nunn camp there was an augment in the crisis; The master was bulky, very bulky. He was in the steam room and went out, he looked exhausted and dangerously close to falling. It was a regular thing from Nunn, which had six feet and vast. And he lacked discipline.

The state of Nunna led to one of the largest lines of Don King, a wicked mixture of joke, grain and placement of the product. One day, on the edge of the pool, King was asked about Nunna’s problems with weight and could he recover on Saturday’s fight against Merqui Sos about Super-Middleight WBA.

“Sure, Nunn can soak his balls in frosty crowns,” King said as he pulled a bottle from a bucket of ice, water drips over his Safari suit. It was perfect. Nunn won, beating the sauce at points to keep his title. This was his last victory in the fight for the title of Master and only his last battle with Scales. By the way, Sosa is one of the bravest and the most fearless people I’ve ever seen live.

Hector Camacho and Oliver McCall were also on a long account; They were not guests in the same hotel. I can only imagine a party that I missed tardy at night somewhere in Puebla. I chose a reasonable tardy evening, found somewhere to eat and a place where competing Mariachi teams would sing a lullaby for almost every warrior you asked. It cost a few pesos to hear glory in their words and observe their actions. They tell the story of the fight; They put on imaginary bandages, go to the ring, touch the gloves and tell the action. These hypnotizing, and these wonderful, emotional songs should be called Boxeocorrido, the boxing version of the infamous Narcocorrido ballads, those devoted to drug traders and killers. I have no idea if Nunn, Camacho and McCall have their own catalog.

So many elderly, king’s elderly bills in the nineties had hidden jewels. In Puebla Derrick James, coach Errola Spence, moved to eight and zero, winning with the legendary Irishman of Danny Morgan. In the next fight for the title of world champion Terry Norris was knocked out by Simon Brown for the title of WBC Featherlight-Middle. Norris and Brown is the main event in any language.

It was a arduous, arduous night for Andy Holligan in this distant and hostile place. Chavez was full of respect after the fight, not calling Holligan “a coward, a bitch, a dog”, just like with Greg Haugen at the beginning of the year. By the way, Chavez fought six times in 1993, which includes a draw with Pernell Whitaker. In fact, he fought in Juarez six weeks before the fight in Holligan. It sounds like a warrior of the fifties, not very current.

Chavez would lose for the first time in the next fight, divided into Frankie Randall on MGM in Las Vegas. His troubles started away from the ring.

Holligan was then a British champion and lost for the first time in 22 fights; Only six months later he was beaten by Ross Hale, losing his British title.

Nunn lost his way after Puebla. In the process of having cocaine in 2003, it was claimed that in 1993 there was a year in which he developed a cocaine problem – it was, unfortunately, probably earlier. He was sentenced in 2003 to a stunning 24 years in prison for paying a secret agent of 200 bucks for cocaine; He walked for free in August 2019.

McCall had its demons for years, Camacho is dead. Don King met Mike Tyson again last week in Florida. In Mexico, they are still singing songs about Chavez and what he achieved in the ring, and with even greater attachments, arduous times from boxing. Even Saul Canelo Alvarez will never replace Chavez in the hearts, souls and minds of Mexicans.

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Boxing History

Freddie Mills, promoter Boxing news

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Freddie Mills

A lot was written about Freddie Mills, such a hero in the years after the Second World War. I contributed to the documentary about him, regularly appearing at BBC Four, in which I described him as a man who was at that time a man who bet on the British ghost bulldog. Many nonsense was also written about this man and I don’t have any time for the absurd theory that he was somehow involved in the murder of “Jack The Stripper” – he was not.

Today he is particularly well remembered in the tragic way of his death. He certainly fought in later years after his business ventures began not to go. When he withdrew from the ring in 1950, he initially did very well and soon became so known as “Celebrity”, regularly appearing on television on all programs, from quiz games to musical functions. He also forged a compact acting career. Less known in it is his tiny time as the best boxing promoter, the side line he liked, in which he managed to succeed.
In 1951, Freddie managed several useful warriors, including good boys from Bristol. In January 1951 he took out a promoter license and tried to set regular shows at Bristol City football, Ashton Gate, where he planned to take part in his two juvenile stars, Gordon Hazella and Terry Ratcliffe. His first show took place on May 28, 1951, and both Hazell and Ratcliffe won the complex foreign opposition. That night eight thousand went through the gates, and Freddie began to try. He was promoted here, every great success.

In August 1952, a terrible tragedy met with the seaside town of Lynmouth North Devon, when a fierce storm caused earnest plaintiffs, and 34 people lost their lives. The local boxing community gathered quickly, and Freddie was at the forefront. Within a month, he organized a charity show in nearby Barnstaple to lend a hand the Danger Fund, and one of the most outstanding local civic dignitaries, as well as the former weight champion in world weight, Terry Allen from Islington, who presented the exhibition, free of charge.

Freddie was used to larger stages because he honored them all as a boxer, and hired an Empress Hall, Earls Court, in which boxing was staged for many years, in March 1952 he took over the place from David Braitman and Ronnie Ezra, who promoted several years. His first program was attended by a local hero, Joe Lucy, Yolande Pompey and Freddie King from Wandsworth, another warrior in which Mills was interested.

In his program, Mills said, with typical playness, that “I try to provide the best possible talent at popular prices, and all dissatisfied customers can meet me in the ring.” He did not have to worry that customers would not be satisfied, because Freddie issued many programs there in the next four years, and most of his best competitions are perlera. His first British title took place in 1953, when one of his favorites, Joe Lucy, raised a free featherlight belt from another London, Tommy McGovern.

Freddie was undoubtedly the most popular British boxer when he was lively and no one else reached his appreciation until Henry Cooper appeared in the 1960s. That is why it is satisfying to notice that the juvenile Cooper Boxed for Mills at the Earls Court show in 1955, stopping Joe Crickmar from Stepney to win his eighth professional competition.

Our photo this week shows that Frank Williams from Birkenhead hugged his hands with his opponent Gaetano Annaloro from Tunisia, while weighing before the 10-Runder second promotion of Freddie in the Earls Court in April 1952.

When Freddie stopped promoting, in 1956 he moved to other business and media projects and, as we know, he was dead at the age of 46.

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Boxing History

That day Andre Ward fought the last fight

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Sergey Kovalev

Sergey Kovalev shook. Right hand with Andre Ward He blew him up his chin and left him fears of the Russian legs of “Krushera”. He was seriously hurt.

Ward did not see it at the beginning. He became, leaving Kovalev on his feet. But then he stood up over him, hammering the Russian into the ring, feeding the arrows. Kovalev was eating in the ropes, fading him, folding on the hook.

Kovalev was trapped in ropes, pressed between the bands. He looked miserably at the judge, complaining about the low blow, but Tony Weeks stated it as a sign of anxiety. He fell to wave him there, and then, at 2-29 eighth round. Lithe championships in the world were resolved. Andre Ward has preserved the titles of IBF, WBA and WBO.

The Russian seemed spent at the moment, but soon explained his indignation. “He didn’t hurt me. I got tired, but I could still fight,” said Sergey. “He hit me [with] Low strokes several times during the fight. I don’t have a metal ass. “

He came to the fight, complaining about the decision of points in the first fight in November last year, about a department evading promotional duties and allegations that a team of Americans tried to prick their coach, and Kovalev left even more, fighting on a weekly intervention. “Who knows who would have victory if he did not stop fighting. I did not agree,” he added.

But Ward was in the process of expelling him from the competition. He had Kovaleva in a perilous place, and for me it was more a matter of the schedule of detention by a judge when the American finished him, and not the result was somehow illegal.

In the sharper evaluation department and his team they thought that Kovalev was looking for a way out. “He abandoned. I know what I have and I was lucky to show a high level of skill against the best in the world,” said Andre. “I think there should be a discussion if there is a deliberate foul, over and over, if I try to get out of trouble and hit him low because I am wounded. But when he bends, sometimes you hit a guy on the waist line …

Coach Ward Virgil Hunter can take some debt collection. Before the fight, he said that he trained his man for a victory in a knockout, at that time he was an unlikely perspective. But Ward proved that he could hurt “Krusher”.

The Russian decided that Mauling Clinches Warda was frustrating, but the American was also more effective in the middle, working in a close sucking in difficult hooks and upper. It has not been denyed now that Kovalev felt bodies. As the first half of the competition progressed, his hands were drifting lower, baseing gloves on the hips when he sucking in the air.

He revived too much, leaning after a low blow, as if he wanted to make a judge to intervene. He also left himself earlier in the eighth round, leaning at the waist, trying to emphasize another low blow, but the judge said nothing. Ward could then bring him a leisurely blow, but he refused.

“I was confused,” said Ward. “When I hit him with a shot, he tried to behave as if it was a low blow. It was border. I looked at weeks like” Can I go? I can’t go? “I didn’t want to score a point, I didn’t want something crazy to happen.”

It was far from the threat with which Kovalev began the fight. He caught a higher than Ward, looking like a stronger man. He moved and launched the lead right next to his body. Andre came down the law and tapped on a stab. These shots were not discouraged by Kovaleva, and his march lasted the attacker.

But most importantly, Ward began to choose the land in which the battle fought. Kovalev wanted him at the end of straightforward blows. But Ward either maneuver clearly, circled around him, or flowed forward, binding Sergey more and more moved in clinchs, but, most importantly, they also work on the inside.

He captured Kovaleva under many shoots and made the Russian miss many of his blows. He worries him during the opening of the exchange, especially when Sergey brought his bulky stab, Ward began to include these numerous threats. They were neck and neck after the first half of the fight (on two cards of judges and in my opinion).

But Ward’s strength attacks on the body affected. Kovalev was breathing heavily. Nevertheless, he stabbed firmly. Sergey threw himself right at the end of the seventh round, but only after surviving a wide left hook did he get into the head.

“I think he was almost the same as for the first time, so I knew what he liked to do and what he didn’t like to do. A high -quality warrior, but I was able to do several different things tonight,” Ward said.

“I am not fighting a C -class warrior. I fight the world champion, so he doesn’t separate you much in this kind of fights.”

But he added: “I am used to the vigilance of the uncomfortable. I train this way. I knew that he was approaching the round. I could say.”

When Ward began to wear in the competition, the decisive right cross began.

The blow drilled Kovalev’s jaw, wounded him like never before. It was a moment of truth.

From there, Sergey solved, rolled up by the ring, when Andre was tearing from the front. Kovalev shot, imprisoned on the ropes. Even with the last blow, he was in a bad position, there is nowhere to go. It is straightforward to understand why the judge who had to give his judgment at this wild moment spared him a further punishment.

“He was on his feet. I showed that I could hurt a larger man,” said Ward. “I did what I had to … Ref may allow it a little longer. But it’s not my fault. This is not my problem. I did my job.”

Sometimes even a knockout can be questioned. But Ward is undoubtedly the best weight for airy in the world. It dominates in its second weight class. After shocking Mikkel Kessler, controlling Carl Froch and taking Chad Dawson, this win is another key moment in search of size.

“It seems that they are constantly knocking the giants one by one,” says Ward. “Can I now get to the pound list for a pound? Is it possible?”

I suspect yes.

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Boxing History

Editor selection: When Carlos Zaryate, Alfonso Zamora and the invader on his fronts went crazy in Los Angeles

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Carlos Zarate

It was an exotic fight, with-men, two fighters from the promised land of boxers on an insignificant Inglewood forum. He was out of reach, foreign in every way for a British fight fan. It took me over 30 years to finally watch the fight from 1977 between Carlos Zaate I Alfonso Zamora. The reports were absorbed, the iconic status of the fight protected for a long time against watching the miracle of the fight. They were both world champions in Bantamweight, both undefeated, both adolescent and at some point, the godfather of Mexican boxing, Arturo “Cuyo” Hernandez, managed and managed them. His role is part of the story. They were not only invincible, they were ruthless, able to finish men with almost every blow. Zarys was 25 years aged, WBC champion and undefeated in 45 fights, and 44 ended quickly. Zamora was 23 years aged, WBA master and stopped or knocked on a senseless each of the 29 men he met. It was not an ordinary fight in the times of great boxing history, not a fight that has ever been in danger. In the decade, the decade, a decade, when any nostalgia struggles with the splendor of the day, the two little ones Mexicans shared several rounds of size. They belong, they are history.

However, before the first bell on the night of genius and madness, it is necessary to travel a little further in your schedules. We all know that the biggest fights in history are not the number of cases, they happen because of pride, stupidity, harm, rights and hundreds of external reasons that motivate the warrior.

Hernandez sold a contract for $ 40,000 to the boxer’s father. He never offered ZARAT’s contract for sale. This movement was personal and the plain feud of blood was inevitable from the perceived betrayal. But Hernandez was a ruthless man, and business in boxing is always to be only a business. However, Zamora was a traitor to the Clan, an enemy.

“I liked the boy, still like that. But to get rid of my father, I would sell a Pinto bean sack,” said Hernandez. This is a fight.

Kabala Aged Los Angeles Fight Fight entered this contract, promising each boxer a record bag of $ 125,000. The seventies were probably the last decade in which Los Angeles took place on the highest box of boxing, and when the city delivered itself, it delivered. The fight was agreed to one pound above Bantam’s weight limit, it would be only for the Macho belt and everyone left the ring as a master.

The forum was in a part of the city, often called Little Mexico, and in the night 13,966 tickets sold. This place was sweated, don’t make a mistake. The problem was that we did not deny it – it was expected, and the police were in their characteristic white helmets with their naked desire for confrontation. Crosses in the ring, looking for a pliable head to bury your long sticks. And, like fans, they would not be disappointed.

Richard Steele is the third man.

After only 54 seconds, the opening round is happening something really crazy. The fragility of the blows, the intensity of both boxers is interrupted when a fat man wearing a cozy white vest and a pair of gray fronts and climbs the ropes. The man gets between two boxers, raises his finger, has something to say, is on a mission, and then takes the pose kung fu. It happens that the fight has stopped and Steele just looks. The man just stands there.

Then the white helmets correspond and attack the ring. It’s wild, trust me. Five police of riots evict a man from the ring, the package and sticks him while flying. Then he is pulled and kicked from the ring, and his departure screams Zakopane near Ryki, when the boxers throw blows again. The fight is not even a minute.

Every blow is cruel, they fight, as if there was something bad on the line, and Zarys is hurt in the first. This is the fight of miracles and in the third round of Zamora begins to disappear. Zarys drops his great rival in the third. After the fourth Zamor, it is more than twice as much, she once hit tidy and slow by Zara. I would like to be there in affordable places for this fight.

When Zamora is on the back for the second time in the fourth round. His father climbs through the ropes and throws a moist towel from surrender to his son and lands on his face. However, he does not approach his affected boy. The fight officially ended in 71 seconds of the round. But Zamora SNR has unfinished business and she bursts Hernandez with a blow or two or three. The boxer is still on the floor when the ring is again besieged and the men begin to throw blows at each other.

Riot police return, this time six of them, and they are lost in a swing in a low -circuit 30, which took over the ring. It was the only possible ending.

Zamora lost the title in the next fight, lost three of the next seven and left boxing when he was only 26 years aged. It is rarely mentioned on the lists of Mexican idols.

Zarys lost the title next year with Wilfredo Gomez, lost over 15 rounds with Lupe Pintor in 1979 and gave up in 1988 after losing another fight with Daniel Zaragosis.

Zarys is a great Mexican, he won this fight, and his position will never have doubts. It was a fight that could permanently change man. The fate and life of a comic superhero on the Y fronts remain unknown. What a fight.

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