Born Henry Jackson on Dec. 12, 1912, in Columbus, Miss., he was the 11th of 15 children. His father, also called Henry, was a mix of Indian, Irish and black blood. His mama, America, was half-Cherokee Indian. When Armstrong was 4, the family moved to St. His mother died a year later, and he was raised by his grandparent. As a lad, he got into neighborhood street fights. But there was a tender side, too, as he showed at his high school graduation when he read an original poem.

As an amateur Armstrong fought under the name of Melody Jackson. He quit his job working for the Missouri-Pacific Railroad, figuring he could make his riches fighting for pay. His debut as an 18-year-old pro was unfavorable, as he was knocked out in the third round by Al Iovino on July 27, 1931, in Pennsylvania. It was one of only two knockouts Armstrong would experience in his career. His next contest was four days later, and he won a six-round decision.

Armstrong moved to Los Angeles, where he resumed his amateur state. He teamed up with -- and took the last name of -- a coach and former boxer called Henry Armstrong. He officially turned pro a year later after failure to make the 1932 Olympic team, and he lost his first two fights, both four-round decisions in Los Angeles in 1932. Boxing as a featherweight, he gained quite a morsel of experience from 1933 to 1935, fighting 46 times, mostly in California and Mexico.

But 1938 was an even better year for Armstrong, as he took the two more championships. Although Armstrong was outweighed by at least 15 pounds by Ross, he dominated their fight in Madison Square Garden, pounding the champion unmercifully for 11 rounds. "I carried him the last four rounds," Armstrong said. "I was asked to do it, and he thanked me.".

Ten weeks later, Armstrong's fight with Ambers was a war. Armstrong knocked down the champ in the fifth and sixth rounds, but Ambers cut him severely. "If you spit any more blood on that floor," referee Billy Cavanaugh told Armstrong, "I'm going to stop this fight.".

They used to say of Henry Armstrong that he never threw a jab or took a backward step in his life. He'd be even money against a moving train. He'd charge a rhinoceros. He made his fight like a guy running for a bus. He walked through people like turnstiles. His manager, Eddie Mead, once summed up his fighting style as "he just kept hitting people till they disappeared." Henry came from a long line of people who suffered in this life, and he never expected anything but more of same.

Armstrong had his cornermen remove his mouthpiece so he could swallow the blood flowing in his mouth the last five rounds. Despite losing three rounds on fouls, having both eyes cut and swollen, and needing 37 stitches later to close the wound inside his mouth, Armstrong won a split decision. He had fulfilled his goal -- he reigned as champion over three divisions.

But not for long. He voluntarily relinquished his featherweight crown, and the next August he lost the lightweight title back to Ambers on a unanimous decision. That fight, before 29,088 fans at Yankee Stadium, was another brawl as the fighters pounded each other for 15 rounds. Armstrong was penalized five rounds for low punches, and that cost him the fight as two officials had Ambers winning by only an 8-7 margin.

After the decision was announced, the second fight started; both managers and the New York State Athletic Commission were the participants. Mead was suspended 13 months after accusing commissioner Bill Brown of favoring Ambers. Al Weill, Ambers' manager, was suspended four months for his unsportsmanlike behavior.

On March 1, 1940, in Los Angeles, Armstrong sought to become the first-ever four-division champion when he attempted to wrest the middleweight crown from Ceferino Garcia, whom he had decisioned in a welterweight defense in 1938. Fighting true to form, Armstrong applied pressure throughout the bout. But Garcia shut the challenger's left eye and gained a draw, enabling him to keep the title.

Seven months later, a fading Armstrong finally lost his welterweight title after the 19 successful defenses, including six in 1940. Fritzie Zivic, a veteran journeyman best known for questionable tactics, worked Armstrong's eyes, which were scarred and vulnerable to cutting, and took a unanimous decision. Armstrong fared even worse in their rematch in 1941, suffering a 12th-round TKO. That was the last time Armstrong would fight for a championship.

After taking 16 months off, he came back and stayed around until 1945, fighting 49 times although he had lost most of his skill. He finally did beat Zivic, by decision in 1942, but Zivic was no longer champ. In 1943, Armstrong lost a 10-round decision to an up-and-coming Sugar Ray Robinson, who had idolized the three-division champion.

He died at age 75 on Oct. After his death, his heart was found to be one-third larger than average. That didn't surprise anybody in boxing. Armstrong, who had been in poor health for nearly a year, died of heart failure early Saturday morning at California Medical Center where he had been brought from his South Central Los Angeles bungalow by paramedics, only 2 days after he had been released from another hospital.

Reference

Articles about Henry Armstrong. (2014). Retrieved on April 27, 2014, from http://articles.latimes.com/keyword/henry-armstrong.

ESPN.com: He was 'Homicide Hank' for a reason. (2014). Retrieved on April 27, 2014, from http://espn.go.com/sportscentury/features/00014077.html.

HENRY ARMSTRONG DVD COLLECTION

Eddie Mustafa Muham-

mad said it himself:

His recent career can be

summarized in only two

words: inactivity and con-

troversy. The 32-year-old

former WBA light heavy-

weight champion, a veteran

and one of the few world-

class boxers to combine de-

fense and boxing skills with

documented kayo power,

44-6-1 (35), lost his title to

Michael Spinks in 1981 and

has fought only six times

since. There have been no

further losses. In fact, four of Eddie's wins have been

against top-20 competition, including Pablo Ramos, Lottie

Mwale, Jerry Celestine, and Tyrone Booze. But no one

would call Eddie Mustafa Muhammad a hot fighter. The

nadir was struck in July 1983, when he scaled over the

division limit before a scheduled Washington, D.C., title

fight rematch with Spinks. Claiming that the scales had

been rigged, Eddie refused to lose the extra weight. The

bout was switched to a 10-round non-title contest, but

Spinks chose to pull out later that day and, during a wild

evening press conference, the police were called in to quiet

the chaotic scene.

Eddie was suspended, and he remained inactive for

almost a year. He came back to the ring with a one-round

stoppage of Andy Russell in the Cayman Islands in May

1984. After that bout, he bloated to 212 pounds and had

to shed 32 pounds to make the weight for his United

States return, a New York City-I0 rounder against Booze

in February. Still insisting he can make light heavyweight,

Eddie scaled 180 and won a unanimous 10-round verdict.

But not, of course, without some controversy and excite-

ment along the way.

***

THE MORNING

The weigh-in is scheduled for 10 a,m, at the New York

State Athletic Commission offices in downtown Manhattan.

Later that night, at the Garden's bargain basement

building, the Felt Forum, Eddie Mustafa Muhammad will

fight Tyrone Booze. Several fight figures and commion-

ers rill the seventh-floor

lobby and the room that

holds the official scale.

Madison Square Garden

matchmaker Harold Wes-

ton Jr. waits patiently, as

does Booze and his manag-

er, the colorful F. Mac

Buckley. The clock keeps

ticking. It is 10:30, and Ed-

die Mustafa Muhammad

has still not arrived.

"With Eddie you know it will always be interesting," says Weston.

Eddie appears with man-

ager-attorney Doug Thomas and a small entourage at

10:40 a.m. He looks tired and drawn, and remains

speechless. One wonders if he was telling the truth two

days before, when he said he weighed 176, "no prob-

lem." The contract for the bout is 179 pounds, give or

take a pound. In other words, Eddie can weigh as much

as 180, but not an ounce more.

Whispers begin, but the subject is not Eddie's weight.

Word quickly spreads: There are four sheriffs and a

lawyer at the weigh-in, and they aren't just interested

spectators. They have handcuffs with them. And they've

come to get Eddie Mustafa Muhammad.

After a 20-minute delay that only adds to the drama,

Eddie strips down to his briefs and eyes that familiar

nemesis, the scale. A semicircle of onlookers forms and

commissioner Petey D'Ella calls for more space. At 11

a.m., Eddie steps up and, standing on his toes, weighs in.

There is an unattractive roll of flesh around his midsec-

tion. "One-eighty-one," D'Ella reports after balancing the

scale. Eddie will have to reduce one more pound.

"We have a Detecto scale at Eddie's, it must've been

off a couple of ounces," says Thomas.

Unemotional and seemingly unaffected by the sur-

roundings, Booze weighs in immediately after. "One-sev-

enty-nine-and-a-halt," D'Ella announces. Booze smiles

and steps down.

“We gonna wipe that smile off your face,” one of

Eddie's followers threatens the Connecticut light-heavyweight.

"Hey, I'm from the ghetto, too,"

Booze responds calmly. "You can't

pull that on me."

Meanwhile, Buckley huddles with

Doug Thomas and tells him to "just

have Eddie move around a little bit."

Buckley is willing to waive the con-

tracted weight limit if Eddie shadow-

boxes for 10 or 15 minutes. Eddie

heads out of the room and across the

hallway to the bathroom. His entou-

rage follows, as do the sheriffs. One of

the sheriffs asks deputy commissioner

Marvin Kohn if there is an escape-

window in the bathroom. Kohn says

there is, but adds that it's a long way

down.

At 11:13 a.m., Eddie reenters the

room and weighs in at 180. "I'll take

it," he says. Buckley is satisfied. Eddie

sits down on a metal chair and quickly

gulps down three cups of chicken soup

served from a thermos by one of his

supporters. "I want to walk around a

little bit," he says, and he and his

people leave the room, with the sher-

iffs and lawyer alongside.

THE AFTERNOON

Eddie Mustafa Muhammad spends

the afternoon of his fight day in the

judges' chambers at New York Su-

preme Court. The sheriffs have

brought him there to answer a con-

tempt-of-court citation in a civil suit

wherein one of his former lawyers,

Daniel Kornstein, is suing for $35,000

in back legal fees. Eddie paid a $250

fine and was told to reappear in three

days.

"It's an incident that happened a

long time ago," Eddie later expalins.

"It was between my brother and this

lawyer. I wanted to pay the attorney,

but I was away for two months. After

what took place in Washington, noth-

ing can distract my concentration."

THE EVENING

It is 7:45 p.m., and the New York

boxing writers, most of whom are un-

aware of the legal episode that has

highlighted Eddie Mustafa Muham-

mad's afternoon, stand outside the Felt

Forum dressing rooms and wait for

hi. There is an eight round prelimi-

nary bout already underway, but Ed-

die, who is scheduled to fight as early

as early as 9p.m, hasn't yet shown up.

Concerned that he might lose his

feature fight, matchmaker Weston is even more edg than he was in the morning. And anager Buckley, one of Connecticut's top criminal lawyers jokes that “Maybe Eddie needed me this afternoon.”

Finally, one of the commisioners informs the writers that Eddie has arrived and is in his dressing room. But no one is allowed to interview him.

A junior middleweight named Carl Wilson kayos his opponent, Shawn Flynn, in the fourth round of a scheduled six round bout, and only a minute or two after ring announcer Dr. Marvin Goldberg raises the arm of the victor, Booze and Mustafa Muhammad are climbing through the ropes. Eddie, accompanied by his chief handler Don Caesar, is his usual confident self, expressionless, motionless, and unexcited, at least on the outside. It's his first fight in the United States in more than two years and his first fight in his hometown in almost six.

The fighters are introduced and giv-

en their instructions by referee Joe

Santarpia. The crowd, slightly bigger

than the usual cozy Felt Forum Friday

night house, is decidedly behind the

Brooklyn-born Mustafa Muhammad,

but quietly so. The opening bell rings,

and the fighters carefully move toward

one another. There has been none of

the extended prefight ceremony that

one would normally associate with the

comeback of a former world champi-

on. Nor is there more than a hint of

tension or electricity around ringside.

No one expects the limited Booze to

outbox Eddie or knock him out. The

way to defeat the often lazy and unin-

spired former titlist is to out-hustle

him. But Booze, surprisingly effective

in his previous bout, a critical 10-round

draw against Tim Broady, fights tenta-

tively. The first round is particularly

uneventful, as Booze allows Eddie to

pin him against the ropes and lean on

him. It becomes apparent from the

fight's start that neither light heavy-

weight will set a jackrabbit pace; if

Eddie is worried that he will wilt in the

late rounds, Booze will afford him the

opportunity to conserve energy over

the first half of the bout.

Eddie scores with a couple of jabs in

the second and shakes Booze with a right uppercut in the third. The fighters are content to infight. Seemingly glued at the forehead, they punch only in spurts. The difference in power is evident by the sound the body blows make. When Booze fires to Eddie's fleshy sides, there is a dull, almost polite tone. But when Eddie hooks to Booze's hips or ribs, there is more of apop, a smack, a thud. Predictably, however, Eddie's power is spent by the

seventh round.

"Usually when I dig that hook in,

they go," Eddie says later. "He was

looking at me and saying, 'Let's go.' 1

didn't want to tell him, 'Hey, that's all I got!' "

Booze starts fast in the sixth and

wins the seventh, but Mustafa Mu-

hammad regains control in the eighth

with superior defense and accurate

counterpunching. There is a wild ex-

change at the end of the eighth, and,

for the first time in the bout, the fans

stand and scream. Eddie does all the

scoring in the ninth and wants the

kayo, but doesn't come close in the

10th. The judges award him the unani-

mous decision by cards of 9-1, 6-4,

and 6-4. KO scores for Mustafa Mu-

hammad as well, 7-2-1. The victory is

not exciting, but in the ring, Eddie

Mustafa Muhammad rarely is.

"The type of fighter I am, I don't

want nobody easy," a tired but now

more talkative and cordial Eddie says

in a crowded dressing room. "In the

event Michael Spinks wants to fight

me, I'll be in shape."

"But Eddie," a writer asks, "is it

still realistic to think you can make 175 pounds?"

pounds?"

"As realistic as you standing there,"

he answers. "I want to be realistic, I

want four more fights before Spinks.

Michael Spinks needs me. I'm like the

white guy in the division."

Across the hall, Booze says he felt in the ring like Dan Marino in the Super Bowl. "I was never able to throw the touchdown pass," he reasons. "He's fair, though. I have to give him credit. I was relaxed and I wasn't scared, but I was in there with one of the best in the world. I learned from him."

Buckley, who says he's known Eddie

since the fighter was a welterweight in

the amateurs, is much more critical.

"If Tyrone did one-fifth of what he

should've done, this would have been

an easy fight for him," he says. "He

just never got off. Eddie's a nice guy,

but he should quit fighting. He's not

going anywhere. Just look at the guy.

He looks like Jackie Gleason. There's

no muscle tone, nothing."

Friends, relatives, and writers remain

in Eddie's dressing room long after the

bout is over. Thomas invites everyone

to a victory party. He says Eddie will

fight again in five weeks. "He's not on

the networks' shit list," he says.

just wanted to see some activity."

"My career has been nothing but

inactivity and controversy,” says Eddie. “Now I just want to be a fighter.”

KO Mag June 1985

EDDIE MUSTAFA MUHAMMAD DVD COLLECTION

HARRY ARROYO CAREER DVD COLLECTION

TERRENCE ALLI CAREER DVD COLLECTION

Terrence Alli's stomach muscles rise magnificently, sets of impressive brown ridges that inevitably

attract one's sight line. Pity the fragile fist that foolishly attempts to make a dent.

Intimidation.

Terrence Alli's self-assured smile is no camouflage. Nor are the bright eyes, the gold tooth, or the brown derby. Rather, they're personal statements. Lots of fighters are confident.

But only a few are sure.

Intimidation.

Terrence Alli's highlight film features only one constant, that mad dash from his corner at the start of every round, a psychological ploy that can eventually do more damage than any flashy jab-cross-hook combination. The rest of the package includes dancing and slugging, caution and creativity, slick boxing and crude phonebooth warfare. Total unpredictability. "I have five videotapes of Alli, and they all show him differently," said IBF lightweight champion, Harry Arroyo, a thinking man's fighter who didn't know what to think.

Intimidation.

But Terrence Alli features more than pretty muscles, costly teeth, and full-back-up-the-middle assaults. He can also fight, flashing fast hands, ample power, neat boxing skills, and a dependable chin, sometimes separately, sometimes all at once.

We've known for more than a year that Hairy Arroyo can fight. And we were pretty sure that he couldn't be intimidated. For those reasons, a ticket for the Arroyo-Alli championship clash at Bally's Park Place Hotel in Atlantic City became as hot as a free yank on a million-dollar jackpot slot machine.

In fact, according to Boardwalk veteran Frank Gelb, promoter Bob Arum's site coordinator, ticket interest was the best, "I've seen since a Matthew Saad Muhammad-John Conteh fight in Atlantic City in 1979."

The interest in Arroyo-Alli was testament to excellent matchmaking, the undiminishing popularity of the lightweight division, and the rise of Harry Arroyo. In truth, despite the CBS cameras and the title tag, no one expected Arroyo-Alli to generate as much attention as it did. Until he was stopped by Jose Luis Ramirez, Edwin Rosario, not Arroyo, was thought to be the best 135 pounder in the world. And how was Arroyo-Alli ever going to approach last November's Ramirez- Rosario explosion, one of the most dramatic lightweight brawls in years? Ray Mancini, not Youngstown, Ohio, neighbor Harry Arroyo, was still the most popular and recognizable 135-pounder in the world, and the Mancini-Livingstone Bramble rematch, not Arroyo-Alli, was the one lightweight fight the fans had to see. And Hector Camacho, not Harry Arroyo, was the consensus choice as the 135-pounder most likely to succeed supreme lightweight rulers Roberto Duran and Alexis Arguello and achieve superfighter status.

But Arroyo-Alli, fought on a convenient weekend—between the AFC and NFC championship games and the Super Bowl—sold itself. Viewers of ESPN's weekly boxing show had grown accustomed to regularly welcoming Alli, the energetic, colorful. 24- year-old Guyana-born entertainer extraordinaire, as a Thursday night prime time visitor. Alli first introduced himself as a late substitute for Howard

Davis Jr. on an ESPN special in November 1983. He overwhelmed the capable Ivan Montalvo (KO 5) and, two fights later, won the network's lightweight title with a close 12-round verdict over world class Melvin Paul. Alli defended that crown four times in 1984, scoring kayo wins over John Sinegal and Frank Newton and points victories over Efrain Nieves and Victor Babilonia. Though Paul remained the finest lightweight he had faced, Alli's other ESPN title fight victims had been capable 135 pounders. The jump to Arroyo was certainly a graduation into the big leagues (CBS), but a deserved one.

Arroyo, of course, had enjoyed a rather distinguished 1984 as well. His January upset decision over Robin Blake labeled him genuine. His April stoppage of Choo Choo Brown crowned him king of the IBF lightweights. And his first defense, a rugged September kayo of the previously unbeaten White Lightning Brown, established him as one of boxing's finest counterpunchers, a cool technician who had first learned the virtue of patience as a child at the dinner table.

"I was one of 16 children," he says "and we took turns eating dinners."

Handsome, soft-spoken, and far less emotional than Mancini, Arroyo developed a national following of his own in 1984, and CBS was anxious to spotlight him in the first quarter of 1985, one of the hottest three months in the history the hottest three months in the history of the love-hate relationship between

TV and boxing. But as network boxing adviser Mort Shama( and Arum's chief matchmaker, Teddy Brenner, knew, slow and steady Harry needed the right dance partner. In his first network appearance, in 1982 against Joe Manley, Arroyo took a 10-round spin with a mirror image and was offered

little to counter against; he barely escaped with a 10-round verdict and his unblemished record. But those bombardier B Boys, Blake and the two Browns, all tried to remove Arroyo's head from his shoulders, swing by swing. A counter puncher's delight.

It is difficult to picture the ebullient Terrence Alli waiting for anything,whether it be a traffic light, a late friend, or the most subtle of cracks in an opponent's defense. So no one anticipated a dull battle at Bally's. "He will have no trouble finding me, I'll be the one punching all the time," Alli said. And when asked what the fight plan would be, Allis trainer, Don Hayes, answered with one word:

“Pressure."

As if this delightful pairing needed any prologue, a relatively insignificant prefight gesture encapsulated the personalities of both champion and challenger and told uninformed viewers all they needed to know about who was fighting. Arroyo, minus the entourage that accompanied Alli, entered the ring only seconds after his adversary. He immediately crossed the canvas and approached Alli, his face as expressionless as a man cruising the aisles of a supermarket. Alli was facing his corner and did not see the chaimpion coming until his friendly hand was offered. But for Terrence Alli, this was no time for high fives, low fives, or any variations of patty-cake. The challenger's eyes widened and he quickly turned, right fist tight and cocked. Arroyo couldn't hide his amusement and grinned all the way back to his corner. After the opening bell sounded, however, Harry Arroyo knew it was time to make war, not friends. Alli didn't disappoint, racing across the ring as promised. But there was Arroyo uncharacteristically charging out as well, and only his delivery of a right ross prevented a mid-ring head-on collision that might have produced who knows what unfortunate damage.

The first round was meaningless, only because of what happened in the second. All missed and Arroyo countered and scored neatly to the body in the first, scored by all three judges for the champion. But Allis sneaky power

manifested itself early in the second,

when a right over a lazy Arroyo jab

connected with such violence and au-

thority that the champion had to grab

the top right to keep vertical. Arroyo's

left glove touched the canvas, howev-

er, and referee Tony Perez correctly

ruled a knockdown. The round must

have seemed endless, for before it

had concluded, Arroyo was troubled

again, this time by Allis wide, strong

left hooks. At this early stage, the

champion's prospects had to be

termed poor; Alli easily eluded all at-

tempts at clinching by simply shoving

Arroyo away, and the champion's jab,

at least on this day, was not sharp

enough to exact a toll for Allis

aggressiveness.

Alli did not decelerate either, end-

ing the third with a beautiful three-

punch combination and bruising Ar-

royo's left cheekbone in the fourth.

Still, the pace and Arroyo's well-

earned reputation as a sleepwalking

starter had to be considered. One

ringsider's notes included the scrib-

bling, "Watch for Alli burnout."

"He started breathing heavily [as

early as round four], but he was deter-

mined; he kept coming," said Arroyo,

who was forced to repeatedly retreat

and struggle on the inside and off the

ropes. But the champion had anticipat-

ed that in this bout, infighting would

be a necessity. He matched Alli flurry

for flurry in the fifth, sixth, and sev-

enth, and continued to drive his right

into Alli's ribs.

As the middle rounds progressed.

the lightweights began to demonstrate

clear signs of respect Each stopped

shooting out of his corner at the start

of the rounds, and both opted to rest

for portions of the incessant infighting.

Terrence Alli was proving that he was

indeed a fighter. As a result, Harry Ar-

royo would have to prove that he was

indeed a champion.

"They keep getting tougher," Ar-

royo said afterward, admitting that the

riddle of Alli had not been as easily

solved as those of the B Boys.

Alli rebounded to regain a slight

edge in the eighth, ninth, and 10th,

though he lost a point for hitting after

the bell ending the 10th. "Keep the

pressure, keep the pressure," Hayes

and manager Jimmy Glenn screamed

to their fighter, realizing that the title

would change corners only if Alli

could continue to hustle and force Ar-

royo to the ropes and corners. For

rounds 11 through 15, were a true

champion shines, were the road mark-

ers in Arroyoland.

Between the 10th and 11th, ring an-

nouncer Michael Buffer informed the

crowd that Alli had been penalized.

The announcement upset Alli, who

said, "I was upset. I wanted to know

why. I was too excited and overanx-

ious and I wanted to knock him out."

Perhaps only in boxing can an ath-

lete be excited and full of energy and

zest and, less than 30 seconds later, be

flat on his back, motionless, and the

subject of instant medical supervision.

It took a perfect blend of ring intelli-

gence, technique, and raw power for

Arroyo to end the afternoon early in

the 11th. And he did it with one short

stroke, like a surehanded golfer bag-

ging a 14-footer to win in sudden

death on the 15th green. One of Ar-

royo's only steady methods of scoring

had been that lead right to Alli's side.

When Alli saw Arroyo dip and lower

is vision to the challenger's midsection

he properly dropped his left-right elbow

to defense the blow. But he also created

an unmistakable route to his

unprotected jaw, Arroyo smart

enough to serve up the bait, was also

strong enough to reel in the game.

Boom! Up came Arroyo with his right,

crossing it splendidly to Alli's sweet spot.

Arroyo's follow up bullets-the

right that sent Alli to the neutral corner,

the right that landed after Alli had

already fallen, and the series of shots

following Perez's eight count—were

little more than dressing. The bottom

line: Harry Arroyo retained his title after

a fierce, close dog fight with a single punch.

"I was really looking for the left

hook because he did take a lot of

feints," said Arroyo, who applied ice

to the right hand he sprained early in

the bout at the postfight press confer-

ence. "But I decided to fake going to

his side and hope he'd try to block it,

which he did."

“I saw him getting closer and closer

with that right hand each round,” said

John Russell, Arroyo's trainer. “And

Alli had started leaning in.”

“The fight went the way I thought it

would,” added lightweight contender

Tyrone Crawley, an interested observer

at ringside. “Harry had to hurt him

to make him show respect. And that

didn't happen til the 11^th round. Until

then, I thought Alli was outpunching

him three to one. No doubt Arroyo's

one of the best out there. Of the three

lightweight champions, he's the best.”

Arum, whose relationship with Arroyo

somewhat compensates for the fact that

he no longer makes money promoting

Mancini, hinted that the champion's

next defense, to be televised by CBS

on April 6^th, will likely be against

Florida's Adolfo Medel. Other names

mentioned were bomber Chris Calvin,

USBA champion Jimmy Paul and

Blake. Of the four, Paul is the best

and the only boxer. You can bet his

style will likely disqualify him from

the running. After that?

“Late June, Hector Camacho, Madison

Square Garden,” said Arum.

Wouldn't that be something? The

brash fiery “Macho Man” a fighter

with many of Alli's qualities and

many of his own, against cool Harry O,

with two undefeated records and a world

title at stake. Can't you just see the brash

Camacho badmouthing the quiet Arroyo

at the press conference, blinding the champion

with all that jewelry, dizzying him with that street

talk, trying to intimidate him...

Excerpted from KO June 1985

 

HECTOR CAMACHO CAREER DVD COLLECTION

 

 

“He's everything I'd thought he'd be,” - Louie Burke after being stopped by

Hector " Macho" Camacho in five rounds in Atlantic City.

Excerpted from KO June 1985

THE MACHO MAN'S whole game is based on one element: motion. The motion of his fists, the motion of his feet, and now the motion of his emotion. Watch Hector Camacho move in the ring. The steps are small, and while the bounce is nowhere near as fluid or beautiful as Muhammad All's, for Camacho's purposes, it's better. Watch Camacho move right and then left, never ashamed to walk away from a particularly violent exchange or grab his onrushing opponent and start all over again. He fights on his terms, when he wants. Watch Hector create that unique Latin street beat by rat-tat- tatting on his man's head and then, in mid-assault, changing angles and rat- tat-tatting some more. Watch Hector Camacho at all times. He moves so much, you just might lose him.

Constant motion.

And emotion. Watch Hector Camacho, everybody's friend, poolside at a Las Vegas hotel, puckishly slapping rumps, smiling in the sunlight, posing radiantly for every Instamatic, joking about the woman he turned down this morning, the woman he made last night, the woman he wants tonight. Watch Camacho the city rat toughen up in Spanish Harlem as he talks nasty and tough about manager Billy Giles, who said last year that his former fighter was "drowning in drugs." And watch The Macho Man on national television in Atlantic City, resting his little boy head on the shoulder of CBS' Tim Ryan and crying the most famous jock tears since Mary Decker at the Olympics.

"I just hope everybody keeps supporting me and stays my friend because I need friends," Camacho told Ryan and then broke down. Is Hector Camacho vulnerable manchild or genuine Macho Man?

“I was caught off-guard because I wasn't working with a monitor and I couldn't see what was going on until he put his head on my shoulder," said Ryan. "It was an awkward moment, but a human one. When I realized he was weeping, I knew was a culmination of his feelings for the events of thepast eight months. He felt isolated from the people he could trust. He was vulnerable. He had come back, he had won, he had looked good. All that on his mind caught up with him."

The motion and emotion of Hector Camacho. The former dazzles his opponents; all 25 have left the ring dazed and dizzy. The latter keeps both him and us off balance and sets up the next chapter, whatever that will bring.

ON AUGUST 7, 1983, Hector Camacho, perhaps the hottest boxer in the fight game, kayoed Bazooka Limon to win the vacant WBC super featherweight title. It should have been the beginning of the second phase of the Camacho success

Lightning" Brown last July, never strays from a style that

perfectly complements quick counterpunchers like

Camacho. When The Macho Man was rising in the early-

'80s, Giles matched him intelligently with brass knuckle

types like Johnny Sato, Louie Loy, and John Montes Jr., and

most of Camacho's nationally televised performances were

spectacular. Harold Weston Jr., the Garden's matchmaker,

realized a similar strategy was now necessary. This was no

time for Camacho to look average.

"Burke leads with his face," said one observer, perfectly

summing up the matchup.

Armed with courage, conditioning, determination,

aggressiveness, and a dependable chin, Burke was

nevertheless overmatched. That's because Camacho, 25 0

(15), had the answer: speed and, of course, motion.

Looking very much like The Macho Man of 1981 to 1983,

Camacho demonstrated his boxing skills from round one,

catching the willing Burke with continual combinations. It

was at the start of round two, when Camacho opted to stand

still and play one of his macho games, that the former

champion marked the bout with his unique signature. There

they were in ring center, trading furiously, when southpaw

Camacho stepped in with an overhand left. Burke, the

victim of a blow he never saw, unceremoniously craStied to

the floor.

Burke rebounded and refused to slow his wide, desperate

attack. With Camacho resting—he appeared to tire fairly

quickly and easily in this bout—Burke may have carried the

Fighting more flatfooted, Camacho punched with more power. His sizzling third round. But the blood on the bridge of his nose and the

combinations bruised and floored Burke. mouse threatening the line of vision of his left eye told

much more than the judges' pens. Camacho sped through

story. Instead, it was almost the end of it all. Camacho two separate all-out assaults in the fourth and finished the

made one defense, stopping Rafael Solis three months fifth with a pair of straight lefts that convinced referee Larry

later, and then hibernated for the rest of the winter. He Hazzard to institute one of New Jersey's new rules, a

fought only once in 1984, knocking out Panama's difficult standing eight count. The bell rang as soon as Hazzard's

Rafael Williams in the seventh round of a non-title fight. fingers stopped flashing in front of Burke's battered eyes,

Then, either because he didn't want to fight for promoter but the inspection was just beginning. Dr. Frank B. Doggett

Don King, or because he could no longer comfortably examined Burke's face in the corner and decided to close

reduce to 130 pounds, he relinquished his crown. Soon the curtain.

after, he began feuding with longtime manager-trainer Billy "I loved my performance," Camacho said. "I needed

Giles, who made the now famous drug accusation. someone like Burke to come to me and make me move and

Suddenly, boxing was the furthest thing from The Macho do my little tricks that I haven't done in a while. I feel

Man's spinning head. strong. Everything went 100 percent."

In an explanation that at first might seem contradictory, It was true: Camacho had been sharp in his return, and

Camacho said that during his layoff, he felt like taking time he appeared to carry the 135 pounds well. But not all

off and fooling around with the girls and, as a result, lightweights were going to be as easy or made-to-order as

suffered through the worst period of his life. He played Burke had been. It was anticipated that Camacho's next

footsie with several managers and promoters who desired test would come against young powerpuncher Juan Ramon

his services, trained intermittently, and heard all the Cruz or slick speedster Darryl Tyson. After that, because of

rumors. Was drugs the reason for the suddenly haphazard The Macho Man's marketability, it would be time for a

motion and emotion? Was that the reason Hector Camacho world title try. Which champion? Camacho just might have

buzzed from station to station at 78 rpm while the rest of LIS his pick. Three titlists, three different promoters. Bob Arum

cruised at 45? has indicated that Camacho versus IBF champion Harry

"Drugs, liquor, women, people talk a lot, but that's all it Arroyo would be a fine midsummer attraction. Don King has

is —talk," said veteran Los Angelino Jimmy Montoya, who hinted that Camacho versus WBC king Jose Luis Ramirez

Camacho finally chose as his new trainer. (Carnacho's would sell a few seats and interest a few networks. (King

managerial contract with Giles expires in May.) "In all my has apparently convinced the Macho Man, because

years in boxing, I've never seen a fightPr who works harder Camacho has signed with King, and a Ramirez bout is

or who's in better condition." tentatively set for June.) And Dan Duva, though

The words were Wonderful, but we wanted to see for understandably preoccupied with WBA titlist Livingstone

ourselves. Get Camacho in the ring and we'll be the judges. Bramble's defense against Ray Mancini, isn't likely to much

Carnacho's rush to the lightweight title began with a longer ignore a money match like Camacho-Bramble. How

CBS-te-?y,seci battle against Alt), muercluo. New MOXiCO, would 1 he Macho Man fare against these three very

Lowe Burke, 19-2 (12), In d bout promoted by different opponents?

Square Garden. Burke, the loser in a close and • Harry Arroyo: Camacho-Arroyo. It sounds better on

F• ..116,17$7, . ,

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Will pamacho finally reach the stardom at lightweight that was predicted for him when he was a junior lightweight? The

Macho Man will probably compete for one of the three lightweight titles in 1985.

lightweight counterpunchers in the business, and while Camacho by unanimous decision.

their styles are hardly identical, there would be little offered • Livingstone Bramble: For Camacho, the most difficult

for each to work off. George needed Gracie, and Abbott foe of the three. Bramble moves forward behind a good jab

wasn't very funny without Costello. With neither fighter and can battle southpaw if the need arises. There would be

leading, who would get to deliver the punchlines? no Louie Burke-like rushes for Camacho to counter against

Arroyo's advantages would be height and reach, stamina, in this rumble. The WBA champion is also an excellent

and, perhaps, punching power. Camacho would have an counterpuncher, should Camacho decide to initiate the

edge in speed, defense, and movement. Arroyo has been action. And don't expect to ever see Bramble lose a bout

all-too-proficient in giving away early rounds, and the Macho because of fatigue.

Man would assume an early lead. Then what? What would No, Bramble isn't a Superman. Make him wrestle along

happen after five rounds? Because of his ability to strike and the ropes or exchange chest-to-chest and he becomes

either retreat out of range or clinch unashamedly, Camacho unpredictable and occasionally sloppy. But unless

would eventually force Arroyo, behind on points, to come Camacho drastically alters his style, that's not the Macho

forward. Speed burns, and Arroyo would begin to taste Man's way. Camacho's best chance would be to utilize

Camacho's full arsenal. In the end, the difference would be side-to-side movement, allow Bramble to chase him, and

Camacho's ability to determine the pace. Arroyo's finest pick his moments to score with those flashy flurries, much

virtue, patience, will cost him the decision and the fight. like he did against another taller, heady boxer, Cubanito

• Jose Luis Ramirez: Certainly the champion with the Perez. The 15-round distance would favor the stronger

style most likely to complement Camacho, but also the most Bramble. We call this one a pick 'em affair.

dangerous. Ramirez, a fellow southpaw, is a harder puncher In analyzing his chances against the lightweight

than either Arroyo or Bramble. And he has the scars of champions, we have considered the variables and

several wars to prove that he is at least as resilient. More circumstances of the Burke fight and decided that Hector

than a few boxing observers still question Camacho's chin, Camacho remains near his best. Suffice to say that a

and if it is indeed a weakness, this Mexican might just Camacho fighting at less than 100 per cent—physically or

knock The Macho Man into the eighth row. In fact, in the mentally—would not dethrone any of these three titlists.

"Head To Head" feature of last month's KO, three of the Motion and emotion. For Camacho to be the Macho Man,

four panelists selected Ramirez over Camacho, citing the he needs to control them as he has never controlled them

Mexican's superior strength and power. We disagree. before. History tells us that in recent years, more than one

exquisitely talented young fighter has abused his prime,

Ramirez is simply too slow and immobile to steamroll

wasted God's gifts, and spun himself into the ground and

Carnacho. The challenger would score almost at will, hut

wisely never trade toe to-toe long enough to feel Ram irez's then under. Toward the end of 1984, Camacho was against

hammers. It wouldn't be the prettiest win, with Camacho the ropes, dizzy and reeling, the target of blows he could

 

MARVIN JOHNSON CAREER DVD COLLECTION

Excerpted from KO Sept 1985

Somewhere along the road road, we think it was sometime this past year, light heavyweight Marvin Johnson acquired the nickname "pops." Seems like a strange name for someone who's 30 years old, but in boxing, 30 is closer to old than it is to young. And at the start of 1984, Marvin Johnson, former Olympic bronze medalist, former two time 175 pound titlist, and southpaw supreme, was an old 30.

 

 He didn't fight again for wish I was retired because they don't

two-time 175-pound titlist, and southpaw more than a year, and then fought only want to take that chance. They know that

supreme, was an old 30. twice in both 1982 and 1983. Only one of win or lose, they'll have to fight for their

The decade had begun poorly, when he those wins, a one-round demolition of

lives to stay in there."

lost the WBA title to Eddie Mustafa Mu-

fellow Incliana blfrp, A1,4!„ 1.-1----_

4, INC 1

 

1980. Then, a year later, an Atlantic city as significant.

odds makers had no choice but to be honest

1 — ...... -(;;

.411, MOW AIMIN. .C.. 01.

 

 

 

II. JAM%

(Continued from page 30)

Aim; t;n

ESPN or SportsChannel). The first two

wins and the last one were kayos over

/eight Eddie Gonzalez, and -rusty Eddie

km:.

ger who would have benefited greatly

-om a win over a name tighter. Clouden

a legitimate top-20 175-pounder, but his

early-round aggressiveness didn't work be-

cause there isn't a light heavyweight in the

world who sets a faster pace than John-

son. Clouden seemed amazed by the

number of punches Johnson was present-

The tight didn't last five rounds.

In August, the opponent was just a

little bit better, a perennial top tenner this

time, veteran Johnny Davis. Having

fought another pressure fighter and for-

former titlist, Dwight Muhammad Qawi,

three times, Davis was aware of what it

would take to conquer Johnson. Pops,

however, started fast, refused to rest in

the middle rounds, and accelerated near

he finish. Shut out and battered through-

nit, Davis was left wondering how John-

on had ever managed to gain a negative

:.reputation as a fighter who was good for

its six rounds. It was Johnson's most

impressive win of the year and the perform-

once that reestablished him as a championship

caliber fighter.

Johnson's third major triumph, a 10-

round decision over Charles Williams in

November, was more difficult. Williams

didn’t have the reputation of Clouden

d Davis, hut a 1983 upset over the

!previously unbeaten Anthony Witherspoon had established him as a difficult

d powerful 175-pounder. Johnson was

some while serving his usual portion

punishment. Still, his points win

him yet closer to a rematch with

CARL THE TRUTH WILLIAMS BOXING DVD COLLECTION

excerpted from KO Sept 1985

repeatedly scored with the jab that is Muhammad Ali

commanded and demanded the frequently compared to Holmes', and even

attention of the world by winning a gold talked to his man, ensuring victory in the

medal at the 1960 Olympics, Carl Williams psychological, as well as the physical, war.

was 10 months old. When Larry Holmes decisioned Ken Norton to begin one

Williams' graduation was impressive,

especially considering what had transpired in

most dominant title reigns in heavyweight round one. But was Carl Williams satisfied?

history, Carl Williams was 18 and -getting "I couldn't watch the film more than

into the basic trouble kids get into.- He still once," he said. "He hit me with right hands

hadn't punched anyone—at lead .it flush. To me, that's like taking a beating.

boxing gloves on. Tillis was really a piece of cake. He was a big

Carl "The Truth- Williams is now 25.11 jump up in class compared to fighters like

Terry Mims, who were pushovers, hut I

he isn't already the best young heavyweight

knew I could handle him. I knew I was

prospect in the world, he will be by the

physically stronger and mentally sharper.

year's end. When Ali completed an amazing

But my twos were inoperative that night I

and unprecedented 14-year run by defeating

had a cold, and I sustained an injury to my

Leon Spinks and then retiring. Larry

right hand in training. I regret going

Holmes was 28 and visiting for the baton,

through with the fight, but I got bad advice.

ready for his own run. Today. seven years

People haven't seen me at my best."

later, Holmes is decelerating as he

How good can Williams be at his best?

approaches the finish line. The likely

Considering the fighter's natural gifts and his

candidates to nod sprint to the front

limited experience, the possibilities are

include Pinky Thomas, Greg Page, David mind-boggling. The heavyweight grew up in

Bey, and Gerry Cooney. Then there's New York City (he now lives in White

undefeated (1601 Cart Williams, 6'4", 220 Plains, a suburb), and fought in the streets,

pounds, quick, mobile. strong, and

not gyms and rings, until age 20. He opted

possessing an almost unbelievable 85-inch

to try boxing after watching top amateurs

reach. You'll know -The Truth" when you

like Marvis Frazier and Tony Tubbs and

see it.

deciding he could beat them. Not eventually,

"My friends and I used to watch boxing

all the lime.- said Williams, one of the more or after a hit of practice. Right then. If you

articulate fighters in the game. "We'd watch Carl Williams has bowled over many of his opponents haven't already noticed, confidence isn't one.

all the big fights. the Sugar Ray Leonard (stopping Michael Greer on opposite page) of Carl Williams' weaknesses.

fights, and bet on them. We had a slogan in winning all 16 of his pro bouts. Will The Truth

"By 1980 I had already been molded into

be victorious after challenging for a world title

about Leonard that he was nothing but the (above)? a style because my street fighting style was

truth. When I started boxing, I remembered

methodical boxing," he said. "I put up a bag

that. I started beating bigger guys. guys with and watched his heralded foe fall on his

in my basement and hit it for 30 minutes, 60

experience. I used to call myself 'The Man,' butt. Williams rose quickly, but this was no minutes at a time. I used to run and train

but then I said about myself, must be The harmless flash knockdown. A few seconds

brutally. Then I went to the gym in

Truth.'" later, Tillis landed a right and a straight left,

O'Connell Park and fought in the Golden

• • •

and back down went Williams. The Truth, it Gloves without even one smoker. They said

On October 23, 1984, at the Atlantis Hotel seemed, was nothing more than one big

it was natural ability."

on the Boardwalk in Atlantic City, promoter snow job.

Williams won his first four amateur fights

Jeff Levine hosted a coming-out party. After Forty minutes later, the ring announcer

and, with them, the New York Golden

15 bouts, mostly against fighters who told us that one judge gave Tillis that first

Gloves Sub-Novice title. A year later, he won

weighed 30 pounds less, fighters who shook round and not another. Another judge gave

the Gloves Open crown and the World Cup.

when brushed with a jab, fighters who Tills two rounds. The third could have been

He ended his amateur career with only 22

should've moved back three spaces and termed generous for awarding the Tulsa

bouts (21-1, the loss being via

never passed Go, Carl Williams faced his cowboy three rounds. By the end of the disqualification to Benny Heard in the 1981

think he exercises a lot of displaced hostility)

If things are not going well in one phase of

his life, he'll strike out. And since I'm in the

gym with him every day. I'm an easy target. I

would never call him loyal. He's selfish,

disrespectful, and ungrateful, in my opinion.

Sometimes I think he can't be that bad, that

he's just trying to set me up."

Unlike most disgruntled fighters,

Williams does not complain about his

eaming. In Williams' ninth fight, an eight-

rounder at the Felt Forum and his last bout

for Madison Square Garden, he was paid

$7,500, far more than the average paycheck

for Forum main-eventers. He made $75,0C

in three fights in 1983 with promoter Dan

Duva, and signed with Jeff Levine in 1984

for three years and $50,000 up front. He

was paid $20,000 for a Westchester bout

against trialhorse Lou Benson (his first bout

 

network TV, are extraordinary. But

promoters judge Williams as an

extraordinary property, and they've been

willing to demonstrate that in the most

definitive way—with their checkbooks.

Talented, undefeated heavyweights, you so

are an endangered species.

As we went to press, Levine was

attempting to finalize a bout with NABF

champion James Broad, a fighter Williams

calls "a fat kid, the dough boy." After the win

over Tillis, and Williams' sparkling

September 1983 fourth-round stoppage of

one-time prospect Percell "Magic" Davis,

Broad would seem to be the perfect level o

opposition. At this point, Berlingo believes

there is no need to be overly selective.

"The only thing that he still needs is

experience and seasoning," he said. His

is phenomenal and his timing is beautiful

He throws a great assortment of punches

and he's durable. I don't know if he a_tea

rock-hard jaw [the only criticism consist

get clipped by

the same combinations

now he has .111 the tools to beat anybody y.

 

from winning the heavyweight championship

:h, (as,ts;,I've been

championship

know because sets the job done. By the

fight for title.

 

"I got started in boxing due to my original trainer Ben Getty putting on a boxing exhibition at the after-school YMCA program, and I was just intrigued at a very young age. I was intrigued. There was something inside my heart that said, 'That's you.'

"Working with Ben was very intimidating. He was just what we'd call the definition of old school. He was the head janitor of my elementary school, so he would drive me directly from the school to the gym and we would go to work every day. He was almost like a second dad. I spent more time with him than I really did with my parents growing up.

"By the time I hit 16, after I've seen myself win several national titles in the amateur rankings, I said to myself, 'Keith, you might be able to be a pro.' I actually sat down with a promoter with my mother and my father and Ben Getty at 16 years old, and started to negotiate a professional contract. The only thing that held me from turning pro was the desire to be an Olympian.

"We made it to the Olympic trials back in 2007, trying to get on the 2008 team, and we lost in the finals of that trials. It was right after I declined the alternate position that I decided to turn pro.

"There were no signs of what was going on with Ben. He was a diabetic. Something happened with his medications. When his family went to check on him, he was passed away. It hurts to know that he's not here. Now that my original trainer isn't here with me, every day at the gym, I just go back to the fundamentals. The way Ben showed me how to throw the jab, how to sit down with the right. And I just always listen to him: 'Don't ever lighten up on your power, boy, because that's what they're afraid of.'

"As you see me, you will see Ben Getty on my trunks. I wear it in honor of him and all the years he spent teaching me to be the fighter I am today. Ben told me, 'You have what it takes to be a champion.' And not to be any champion, I wanna be a legendary champion. That's one thing that truly keeps me motivated. I just want to prove him right."