BW Archive – Farr: “Ali wouldn’t have hit Joe Louis on the bum with a handful of rice!”

First published August 29th 2008

Tommy Farr said that and who am I to argue? Tomorrow will mark the 71st anniversary of his courageous but ultimately unsuccessful attempt to dethrone the newly crowned heavyweight champion Joe Louis. The humble ‘Tonypandy Terror’ is long remembered for giving the legendary ‘Brown Bomber’ an arduous first defence of his heavyweight title and for the unflinching resolve he demonstrated in doing so.

His effort was as herculean as it was unexpected to ringside observers. Those hunched around the family wireless back in Britain, were moved to believe he’d done enough to topple the great champion.

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Ward retires undefeated and he will beat the comeback call too

The fact Andre Ward’s retirement leaves a bittersweet taste shouldn’t surprise those of us who could appreciate his skill and yet felt infuriated by his inactivity. His scripted departure message was as deft and well crafted as some of his performances. It was a professional career that began in December 2004 and followed an unbeaten run that stretched back to his teens.

He will tease but he will stay retired.

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Wladimir Klitschko, dominance and the burden of proof

Historically, dominance is a fleeting experience in the heavyweight division. Perhaps, thankfully fleeting. In the last century we’ve seen a number of periods in which one fighter reigned over the sports blue ribbon division. Louis, Marciano, Holmes, Tyson. An exalted list of greatness. Once in a generation fighters who destroyed their contemporaries and illuminated their respective eras. Something else unified those luminaries; the lack of a defining opponent.

Wladimir Klitschko, who turns 38 ahead of his next defence, is in the Autumn of a career even by today’s extended measure. Like those illustrious greats he finds himself searching for an opponent who will offer triumphant definition to his manicured statistics. Without one he is at risk of being remembered for a defeat to Lamon Brewster in 2004 or a slew of moribund victories similar to the one he will accrue in April when he tackles the over-matched Alex Leapai.

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Boxing: “Just wave Joe, you’re beautiful baby. God bless ya champ.”

Lennox Lewis simply isn’t celebrated enough. Now before you depart, mistaking this statement as a prelude to a tired hit-chasing argument about Lennox always beating Tyson – even in 1993 – or whooping Vitali in the never seen rematch, it points instead to his well timed retirement; faculties in tact, money safe and talent fulfilled.

Too few have the wisdom and foresight to resist the public or personal clamour to continue or, worst still, return. Great, good and those no more than game very rarely depart from boxing on their own terms, and if they do, they are frequently drawn back. Invited or not.

Joe Louis, for some the greatest heavyweight of all, was reduced to welcoming tourists to Caeser’s Palace before an equally humble turn as a wrestler and wrestling referee following his second retirement. For fifty years it remained the most visible and documented example of a fall from greatness. Until now.

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Magee and Confusion Reign; the WBA and the quest for ever more titles

Only those entirely immersed in the sport are able to negotiate the labyrinthine collection of weight classes, governing bodies and titles the sport has adopted in recent years. Designed to provide a measure of its participants’ success or failure these multitudinous belts simply add ever more tiers and layers, so the benchmarks become ever more meaningless. Even the seemingly unimpeachable concept of a fighter’s record is blighted by the need for context and understanding of the titles and belts that will adorn it.

There is no longer an available method for recognising a fight’s or a fighter’s place in the sport’s hierarchy. And there is the rub. The simplest, purest sport is now engulfed in unnecessary complication. Complication that ostracises the general public and pushes boxing further to the margins of the sporting landscape.

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Boxing: Reassembling a defeated fighter, Kevin Mitchell begins to convince

The winning of a prizefight is decided by a complex algorithm. Combining the unquantifiable x and y’s of the scientific and the visceral, the physical and the emotional. Each aspect of a fighter’s make-up contributes to that which he is and decides the tipping point between winning and losing. These variables are infinite and even at a fight’s conclusion, the outcome can remain subjective and the underlying building blocks for the triumph and disaster which befalls them is often only ever partially revealed.

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BoxingWriter Fighter of the Month; September 08

Thus far the BoxingWriter.co.uk Fighter of the Month award has been won by Monte Barrett for his destruction of Tye Fields’ flimsy standing as a heavyweight contender, Antonio Margarito’s thrilling suffocation of Miguel Cotto’s resistance and latterly Cedric Boswell’s destruction of pampered prospect Roman Greenberg. I found the stand out performance in September was much harder to select. Continue reading “BoxingWriter Fighter of the Month; September 08” →

Ruddy cheeked and ready, boxing is back baby!

How fickle the fortunes of British boxing, and boxing in general in fact. A year or less ago, every article spoke of the terminal outlook of boxing’s various ills. Naysayers pointed to the rise of Mixed Martial Arts and its most notable body, the UFC. David Haye’s weekend capture of the World Cruiserweight title and Joe Calzaghe’s acceptance as a modern day great are the latest links in a chain of good news that has transformed the complexion of British boxing.

For now, the doom-merchants have been vanquished, the threat of UFC forgotten and boxing galvanised.

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Is Zab You Judah?

In one of the most bizarre stories I’ve heard in a while and for a sport which, to paraphrase Dennis Norden, doesn’t lack stories you’d have to file under strange but true, a recent conference call held between the media and Welterweight contender Zab Judah proved to be a misleading endeavour for the hacks who dialled in.

Why? Because the classless Judah the Junior had his father Yoel sit in and pretend to be him. Cheap.

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An Apology To Crawford Grimsley

I was taken to task overnight by Jodi Grimsley, the wife of returning heavyweight Crawford Grimsley, with regard to my flippant remarks about Crawford’s condition and repute as a heavyweight following his withdrawal from the Michael Moorer contest.

Quite rightly, Mrs Grimsley questioned my intent, research and experience on the subject of diverticulitis, the affliction that prevented her husband fighting, and boxing in general. The whole episode was a dose of reality as to the surprising reach of this blog and the random thoughts it covers.

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Hopkins Returns. Did he ever leave?

When you start to open a door, the pressure has to be greatest in the beginning, yet the door moves the least.

Norman Mailer, Author, 1923-2007, The Executioner’s Song (1979)

Boxing needs personalities. And never more so than in the beleaguered heavyweight division. Yesterday’s announcement, and the worst kept secret in boxing, that former middleweight great and presently consensus Light-Heavyweight champion, Bernard Hopkins plans to return in the blue ribbon weight class didn’t cause the gasps of disbelief the ‘Executioner’ appears to crave.

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