God knows that a miniature Cuban island has produced so many boxing greats – champions, technicians, fighters, sluggers and combinations of all four and more. But it could be that the best and greatest boxer that the still communist island produced was a certain Kid Chocolate, or rather Eligio Sardinas Montalvo. Nicknamed the “Cuban Bon Bon” in his heyday, this Kid, or “Keed,” was unique.

Fascinated by the art of nobility at a juvenile age, with few prospects open to him in boxing or otherwise, the teenage Chocolate studied the films of such greats as Jack Johnson and Benny Leonard. And he knew. He just knew. He would do what those giants did. Legend has it that Kid set an amateur record of 100 wins without defeats and 86 KOs. It may be just a legend, but Chocolate quickly proved its greatness at a world level.

Turning professional in October 1927, at the age of just 17, Chocolate won his first 22 fights. After boxing in Cuba for his first nine fights, Chocolate headed to Fresh York, where he boxed almost exclusively until the very end when he returned to his homeland to fight.

Skillful, masterful and incredibly stylish in and out of the ring, Chocolate lost in his first attempt at winning the world featherweight title when Battling Battalino won a 15-round decision against him in December 1930, with the fight taking place at Madison Square Garden . Before this fight, actually just a month earlier, Chocolate had lost a decision to Fidel LaBarba.

But then, in July 1935, sporting a record of 61-3-1!, Chocolate defeated Benny Bass by seventh-round KO to become the super featherweight champion of the world. The victory took place in Philadelphia. Chocolate, still only 21, retained the lightweight title once before losing a 15-round split decision to the incredible Tony Canzoneri for the lightweight crown the following November.

Dropping down to 126 pounds again, Chocolate scored massive victories over great fighters like Lew Feldman, Labarba in return and Seaman Tommy Watson. Previously, Chocolate had lost a decision to Jack “Kid” Berg (who is probably one of the top 5 British fighters of all time, the man who defeated Chocolate twice), and in 1933 he lost a rematch to Canzoneri, with him being stopped in just two rounds.

Chocolate lost the featherweight title to Frankie Klick, who retained it on December 7, 1933, and by then Chocolate had a rather astonishing record of 94-7-1. Having lived life “in the grand scheme of things,” as one might say today, Chocolate lived and loved and fought many battles while battling the effects of syphilis and possibly gonorrhea.

At the age of 24, Chocolate looked nothing like the great warrior he once was. Fighting on, “The Keed” fought in the US, in Cuba, in the US again, and finally in Cuba again. His fortune long gone (Chocolate loved costly suits, fine dining, women and songs), Kid lived a silent life in Cuba in the 1950s when Fidel Castro came to power.

In later years, chocolate was forgotten, with only a commission from Ring magazine to track him down, revealing the misery of his life in his final year (“The Horror Of Kid Chocolate” by Jonathan Rendell, truly moving). But Kid’s legacy was protected and intact. The one and only Sugar Ray Robinson studied Chocolate’s fight tapes, and the greatest P-4-P in history noted that he had never seen anyone box like Kid Chocolate.

The best (probably) of Kuba died destitute and forgotten 35 years ago. But the truth is, boxing will never forget Kid Chocolate. He was really great. Just ask boxing historian Mike Tyson.

Final record: 136-10-6(51). Kid died at the age of 78 on August 8, 1988. He was only arrested twice in a fight.

Yesterday it was reported that former heavyweight title challenger and world title challenger Roy Harris had died at the good vintage age of 90. Harris, of Cut and Shoot, Texas, died at home yesterday morning. Older fight fans will be familiar with Harris, but younger fans should take the time to look up his record if they don’t know him.

Harris, a handsome guy with an athletic build, was born in June 1933 and was taught boxing by his father, who was a pig farmer by trade. Harris had a solid amateur career, winning the Texas Golden Gloves four times, and Harris also won the Joe Louis Sportsmanship Award in 1954 at the National Golden Gloves.

In April 1955, he turned professional and boxed in Texas. Harris, who wasn’t a sturdy puncher but had good skills and a lot of heart, won his first 23 fights. Along the way towards his expected world title shot, Harris defeated several good fighters, including Bob Baker, future delicate heavyweight champion Willie Pastrano and Willie Besmanoff, with Harris defeating all three on points.

This gave 25-year-old Harris a chance to capture Floyd Patterson’s heavyweight crown. The fight took place at Wrigley Field in Los Angeles in August 1958, and Harris scored an early knockdown before being dropped multiple times himself, with his corner opting to heavily chop and beat Harris after 12 rounds (interestingly, Patterson’s trainer/manager Cus D ‘Amato noticed after the fight that the gloves used had thinner leather than usual). A bloodied Harris then humbly expressed how he had “given his all” in the fight. Live Gate broke the California record of just over $234,000, which was a huge sum for its time. The crowd of 21,000 was completely behind Harris, but Patterson was just too good for him. The referee was the great Mushy Callahan.

More fights with large names followed. Harris had a top fight with Sonny Liston in April 1960, with a rampaging Liston winning in one round. Harris was then stopped by Bob Cleroux before he traveled to London to fight British hero Henry Cooper. Cooper won a close decision over 10 rounds. Then in May 1961, Harris was retained by Cleroux for a second time, after which he retired from the sport. After hanging up his gloves, Harris became a lawyer. Harris’ final record was 30-5 (9).

Harris remained alert and in good health well into his later years, and his popularity among those who knew him and followed his career never waned.

Rest in peace.

A national treasure here in the UK, Michael Parkinson, for many of us the king of chat show hosts, died today at the advanced age of 88. Loved by everyone, welcomed by everyone as an interviewer (well, almost everyone; Meg Ryan and her infamous Parky “interview” was another story), Parkinson, at the height of his career, regularly attracted millions of television viewers whenever his show aired.

Just look at the long list of giants Parky sat across from in the studio, asking unlimited, unscripted questions:

Clint Eastwood

Orson Welles

Jimmy Cagney

James Stewart

Woody Allen

John Lennon

John Wayne

Fred Astaire

Betty Davis

Lauren Bacall

Jerzy Best

Peter Seller

Paul McCartney

David Bowie

Michael Caine

Will Smith…… and many others.

Including Muhammad Ali.

Parky interviewed Ali four times – in 1971, twice in 1974 and in 1981.

All four interviews were wonderful in their own way, and Parkinson was somehow able to bring out so many emotions and reactions from Ali: anger, rage, almost uncontrollable laughter (see Ali’s last appearance on Parkinson and what comedian Freddie Starr did to him!) , pride, satisfaction and even fear.

The most renowned interview took place in overdue 1974, just after Ali had reclaimed his throne by dismantling George Foreman in Africa. As enormous as the universe, Ali held nothing back when he spoke, especially his religious beliefs (taught by The Nation of Islam). Ali didn’t like it when Parkinson had the audacity to adopt confrontational tactics in defense of his former champion when the reigning heavyweight champion of the world called Joe Frazier “Uncle Tom.”

“Oh, that’s not Uncle Tom,” Parky said in Joe’s defense.

“He’s not! So why does he insist on calling me Cassius Clay?” Ali shot back. “He’s a different type of Negro, he doesn’t like me. There are two kinds of slaves. To me, Joe Frazier is worse than you! He’s working for the enemy.” “

It was shocking at the time (and Ali’s inflammatory words took his already intense rivalry with Frazier to a whole recent level).

Ali was also angered by the way Parky tried to “trap” him on live TV. Parkinson had previously mentioned in an interview how Ali left school almost illiterate, and later when he used quotes about Ali in a book focusing on his double standards (Ali, preaching the belief that nothing material mattered, lived in a mansion and owned over one Rolls Royce and as Ali said, in accordance with Muslim doctrine, that “all white people are devils”, even though he had many whites on his staff at the time) – Ali really lost it.

Looking genuinely incensed, Ali felt that he had indeed been the victim of a fraud, that he had been cornered.

“You can’t beat me mentally or physically,” Ali spat at his host. “You really are a joke.”

Parky laughed, not at all sincerely, waiting for the cute, cheerful and comfortable version of Ali to return, which he did at the right time.

But for a while, consciously or unconsciously, Parkinson unsettled Ali and angered him in a way that none of his in-ring rivals had ever done. Even Frazier, apparently.

Yes, Parky has interviewed many giants and his shows are gold today. But no show was more entertaining or truly stimulating than Parkinson’s overdue 1974 interview with “The Greatest.”

We will miss Parky greatly. In fact, his great chat was overlooked for many years.