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 My Favorite Guys
Part II of II by Lee Groves (December 14, 2005)
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Every boxing fan has a group of fighters who hold a special place above all others, and the first part of this series covered the bottom half of my top 10 list. Today’s second and final installment reveals my top five personal favorites. After reading my story, I’d like to hear from the members of MaxBoxing Nation on whom their "guys" are and why. If there are enough good replies, I’ll put together a mailbag next week. I can’t wait to see what comes up.
In the meantime, it’s onward and upward:
5. Hilario Zapata – The pages of Ring were indeed "The Bible of Boxing" for me because the articles played a major role in shaping opinions and impressions that hold to this day. My admiration for boxing’s smallest men was formed by the many fight reports written by Joe Koizumi, who was Ring’s correspondent for the Orient (if he’s not already in the Hall of Fame, he definitely should be). His highly descriptive writing style painted word pictures that enabled me to visualize how the fighters appeared and the way they fought. A tall lanky fighter was "elongated," particularly effective body blows were "sticky" and uppercuts were "sickle-like." A stick-and-move boxer "outlegged" his opponent using "hit-and-run" tactics while a cautious fighter was "nervous."
Because many of the world’s outstanding lighter-weight fighters resided in Japan and Korea, it was Koizumi who covered most of Zapata’s title fights there. One of his more memorable reports appeared in the February 1983 issue when he recounted Zapata’s rematch victory over Tadashi Tomori. His lead grabbed me: "WBC junior flyweight champ Hilario Zapata must have a computer in his brain. He seemingly compiles complete data on his previous opponents – then demolishes them in return bouts. Zapata had won a disputed split duke over Tadashi Tomori last July to regain the WBC junior flyweight title. This time, he had stopped him in the eighth." Another time, Koizumi wrote that Zapata "has more moves than a snake on a hot sidewalk." I like big punchers as much as the next guy but I also appreciate watching a craftsman break down an opponent with a wide range of skills. That was Zapata’s appeal for me.
I didn’t get to see Zapata in action until February 1986 when "El Mundo Del Box" aired a tape of his WBA flyweight title fight with Mexican power puncher Javier Lucas. Zapata fought brilliantly, both on offense and defense. More than a few times, Zapata left Lucas bewildered by executing the "squat" move later made famous by Pernell Whitaker. The difference between Zapata and Whitaker is that the Panamanian used the move as part of his normal ring work while Whitaker’s intent was purely show business. Zapata was often criticized by his countrymen for not being exciting like Duran but on this day there were no boos from the boxing-savvy crowd.
One of my most prized possessions is a personalized autographed photo from Zapata that reads "Para Lee Groves, my biggest fan!" I think it’s safe to say that I’m his biggest fan in America – all 5 feet 11, 223 pounds of me.
4. Eder Jofre – In the August 1986 issue of Ring, Nigel Collins wrote a profile of Jofre after he was elected to the magazine’s Hall of Fame. To be honest, this was the first I ever heard of Jofre, at least in this much detail. Collins described Jofre as one of the hardest punching bantamweights who ever lived and recounted how many experts regarded the Brazilian as the world’s top pound-for-pound fighter during the early 1960s.
"Wow," I thought, "why hadn’t I heard of this guy before?" I learned through Collins’ prose that Jofre compiled a 72-2-4 (50 KOs) record, losing only to Fighting Harada in two savage wars in 1965 and 1966, after which he retired for three years. Jofre rejoined the fray in 1969 as a featherweight and proceeded to put together boxing history’s most successful comeback – 25 fights, 25 wins and the WBC featherweight championship, a belt he won from the heavily favored Jose Legra at age 37. After defending the belt with a four-round KO of Vicente Saldivar, Jofre was stripped after his manager failed to arrange a title defense against mandatory challenger Alfredo Marcano. Jofre soldiered on until age 40, winning a 12-round decision over Octavio Gomez in his final fight.
After reading Collins’ piece, I was anxious to get video on Jofre to see how great he was. I was disappointed to find that the only two complete fights of Jofre available were his two losses to Harada. They were both great fights, and I thought Jofre did enough to win the rematch.
Several years later, a complete version of Jofre’s first victory over Joe Medel surfaced but no other complete fights are known to exist. Until they do, the boxing world can only rely on word of mouth to spread the gospel of Jofre’s greatness.
3. Danny Lopez – Most of the guys on my list so far were skillful artisans whose styles were better suited for the symphony than the mosh pit. "Little Red," on the other hand, was boxing’s ultimate thrill ride, a television fighter’s television fighter whose bouts stirred the passions of red-blooded boxing fans everywhere.
To me, Lopez was the king of the small screen as he rescued himself from certain defeat time and time again with one mighty swing of his wrecking ball right hand. A few weeks back, one of the installments of "Closet Classics" recounted Lopez’s two-round demolition of Juan Malvarez because I felt it was the one fight that best represented "Little Red’s" legend. The fight lasted 3 minutes 44 seconds and Lopez lost all but the final 10 seconds as he overcame a knockdown in round one and a battering early in round two to emerge victorious by way of one concussive right to the jaw.
Unlike most big hitters, Lopez was a volume puncher of the highest order because Lopez knew he had to work hard to set up the knockout blow. If he didn’t get it, he was secure in the knowledge that he outpunched his opponent enough to win on points. This was no muscle-bound guy who waited endlessly to land one big blow; he was more like a termite that relentlessly bore holes through his opponents’ defenses, and before long their weakened foundations would crumble.
In a 10-round fight against Genzo Kurosawa, Lopez threw – unofficially -- 1,791 punches. It was that count that eventually led to my part-time gig with CompuBox a few years later. For that, I will always be grateful to Lopez.
My father Gary also likes boxing, though he’s nowhere near the hardcore junkie I am. But he loves Lopez above all others because "Little Red" gave it all he had during every second of every round, no matter how badly things were going.
"When Danny Lopez fought, you knew what you were going to get," he told me recently. "You were going to get excitement and that’s the way boxing is supposed to be." Lopez was willing to walk through any amount of punishment to get the job done because he had unwavering faith in his ability. More often than not, that faith was justified – all he had to do was look down at his fallen opponents for evidence.
2. Alexis Arguello – When I shadowboxed as a kid, I always envisioned myself being like "The Explosive Thin Man." As I threw punches in the air, I imagined dissecting opponents with long, hard jabs, thumping body shots and powerful right crosses that would render my opponents senseless. I would execute my fight plan with intelligence and mental energy.
I wanted to be like that, but Alexis Arguello WAS that – and more. Not only was Arguello a classy fighter, he was also an admirable sportsman. His conduct following the Ray Mancini fight was as memorable as the fight as he encouraged "Boom Boom" to keep fighting for his father and offered his help if he ever needed anything. When it comes to having class, you either have it or you don’t, and Alexis had it in abundance. I had so much regard for Arguello that when I began posting on boxing message boards, my pseudonym was "Arguello."
The night before Arguello fought Pryor for the first time, I dreamed that I was sitting ringside at the Orange Bowl. I was looking up at Arguello and Pryor fighting against a completely dark background. I perceived it was a late round and Arguello was being hammered into unconsciousness along the ropes. Seeing the unpleasant scenario, I snapped awake. "Wait a minute," I thought. "Why did I dream that? I know that Arguello’s going to win the fight tonight. Pryor’s too wild and he’s going to run into something." Comforted by my own reasoning, I went back to sleep.
When I heard that Arguello had been knocked out in the 14th round, I was disappointed but when I saw the video of the knockout a few days later I was shocked. The KO sequence almost exactly matched the scenario I had dreamed about, right down to the side of the ring it took place. It remains the only time I had a premonition about a sporting event, though it almost happened again when I dreamed I was at the Kentucky Derby and I saw a betting sheet that had a monarch butterfly instead of a name. Three days later, Monarchos won the Derby. What made this even more eerie was that I had not even seen a list of the horse’s names beforehand.
1. Roberto Duran – Duran was the first winning fighter I ever saw and his performance against Esteban DeJesus in their second fight sparked my lifelong passion for boxing. How could I not put him at the top of this list?
Duran not only had tremendous ability, he also personified the raging fire needed to become successful. Unlike the amiable Arguello, Duran disdained his opponents and dismissed them as unworthy to share the same ring. Even sparring partners got "the treatment" from Duran, and if they showed any sign of disrespect – look out. In that circumstance, being knocked unconscious would be considered light punishment. He might have been short on sophistication, but Duran at his best was the single greatest example of "machismo" ever conceived.
When he was lightweight champion, his jet-black hair, coal-black eyes and goatee that framed his sneer gave him a satanic visage that frightened fighters and writers alike. The last time we saw the Duran persona in its purest form was the night he ravaged Sugar Ray Leonard in "The Brawl in Montreal." Duran was incensed by Leonard’s "All-American Boy" image, and he felt he, not Leonard, was more deserving of the money and fame that came with superstardom in the United States. Driven by a tidal wave of hatred mixed with an unquenchable thirst for combat, Duran nearly swept Leonard under with a torrent of blows. But Leonard showed he had the "right stuff" as he fought Duran toe-to-toe, never willingly ceding an inch. When Duran was announced as the winner, he had achieved his greatest victory and stood alone atop the boxing world.
That’s why the "no mas" fight five months later was so shocking. Those two words drove Freddie Brown into retirement and many fans left Duran for dead. Though he would never be the same rampaging animal, Duran would become boxing’s phoenix, rising from the ashes again and again. After a dispiriting defeat to Kirkland Laing, Duran knocked out Pipino Cuevas and WBA junior middleweight champion Davey Moore before losing a close decision to fearsome middleweight champion Marvelous Marvin Hagler. Five years after being knocked unconscious by Thomas Hearns, a 37-year-old Duran won his fourth world title by beating WBC middleweight champion Iran Barkley in a glorious give-and-take war. There were more than a few people who thought a 47-year-old Duran could somehow rise again and beat WBA champion William Joppy in 1998.
As Duran aged, he transformed himself from a raging ball of fire into a cerebral assassin who picked opponents apart while staying incredibly relaxed. He won many fights on knowledge alone, and one would think Duran would still be fighting had it not been for a car accident suffered shortly after his final fight with Hector Camacho in 2001.
"The Hands of Stone" will be on the IBHOF ballot for the first time next October and if anyone can be considered a lead-pipe cinch for enshrinement, he is. Anyone who withholds his checkmark from Duran is either stoned – or should be stoned.
The First half.
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