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I think Rigondeaux will shock some people on the 13th. He has some of the best footwork in boxing and he's a solid counter-puncher with power. Nonito better be ready!Conte no longer part of Team Donaire............
Official 2013 Boxing Thread: Year is over, please lock.
- Thread in 'Sports & Training' Thread starter Started by proshares,
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- Sep 28, 2003
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I think Rigondeaux will shock some people on the 13th. He has some of the best footwork in boxing and he's a solid counter-puncher with power. Nonito better be ready!Conte no longer part of Team Donaire............
And he has Angel on his side
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Guillermo's camp denied it. It's inconclusive.And he has Angel on his side
lightweight champion
Banned
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Has he submitted his contact info yet? Or is that also inconclusive?
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Guillermo's camp denied it. It's inconclusive.And he has Angel on his side
Even if they did work together they wold deny it especially since his opponent is or was working with Conte.
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Well, he's a Top 6 HW (Ali, Louis, Holmes/Lennox, Holyfield/Foreman, Marciano) And he's in the Top 65 of time. Pretty good I reckon.
He's a bit like Mayweather where his resume falls short but his consistency and H2H abilities in his prime (yet again like Floyd) are great.
Why do you think he should be rated higher? and what do you think so far of the list? Have you learned of some fighters you never knew before?
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#64 Vicente Saldivar (37-3)
Saldivar was tiny and deadly. At just 5’3, his physical limitations should have curbed his potential but the Mexican genius learned to box around them. He developed an uncanny ability, even against a fighter as superb as Ismael Laguna, at judging the range, stepping with the type of timing that made the difference in height and reach between him and his opponent unimportant and then lashing home, generally with combinations. He hit out with hard punches with great speed behind an elegant and accurate right jab out of the southpaw stance. Although a fearsome and gradual body attack was a favored tactic, he could box with the best of them and he could brawl with the bad; as complete a featherweight boxer as ever laced ‘em up.
He broke out of the Mexican scene in 1963, cracking two of the toughest hombres Mexico ever tossed out of its brutal ghettos, Eduardo Guerrero who boasted a win over then #2 contender Don Johnson, and Juan Ramirez, who headbutted his way to a disqualification loss against the same (whilst ahead on the cards, no less). Then came that superb win against Laguna, a fight that was written up in some corners as a robbery until footage emerged last year, clearly showing Saldivar as superior to a fighter who was less than a year away from a win over the great Carlos Ortiz up at lightweight.
For an encore, he broke the legendary Sugar Ramos (then 45-1-3, the single loss a disqualification), brutalized in twelve savage rounds as a counterpoint to his beautiful boxing performance against Laguna and the featherweight title belonged him. For his first defense he utterly outclassed future champ Raul Rojas, stopping him in fifteen, then he all but outclassed another champion-to-be, Howard Winstone (53-2), a trick he would pull off again in 1967 and in 1970. In all, he would defeat an astounding five past, present or future world titlists; like Miguel Canto the dominance of his reign illustrated by the ability of his opponents to prosper only in his wake. The loss of his title (after a failed retirement attempt) to Kuniaki Shibata, who basically outfought Saldivar, is concerning, as is his lack of longevity, but in a short career the Mexican great beat enough champions for two careers, drying the paint on one of the most outstanding of featherweight title reigns.
Saldivar was tiny and deadly. At just 5’3, his physical limitations should have curbed his potential but the Mexican genius learned to box around them. He developed an uncanny ability, even against a fighter as superb as Ismael Laguna, at judging the range, stepping with the type of timing that made the difference in height and reach between him and his opponent unimportant and then lashing home, generally with combinations. He hit out with hard punches with great speed behind an elegant and accurate right jab out of the southpaw stance. Although a fearsome and gradual body attack was a favored tactic, he could box with the best of them and he could brawl with the bad; as complete a featherweight boxer as ever laced ‘em up.
He broke out of the Mexican scene in 1963, cracking two of the toughest hombres Mexico ever tossed out of its brutal ghettos, Eduardo Guerrero who boasted a win over then #2 contender Don Johnson, and Juan Ramirez, who headbutted his way to a disqualification loss against the same (whilst ahead on the cards, no less). Then came that superb win against Laguna, a fight that was written up in some corners as a robbery until footage emerged last year, clearly showing Saldivar as superior to a fighter who was less than a year away from a win over the great Carlos Ortiz up at lightweight.
For an encore, he broke the legendary Sugar Ramos (then 45-1-3, the single loss a disqualification), brutalized in twelve savage rounds as a counterpoint to his beautiful boxing performance against Laguna and the featherweight title belonged him. For his first defense he utterly outclassed future champ Raul Rojas, stopping him in fifteen, then he all but outclassed another champion-to-be, Howard Winstone (53-2), a trick he would pull off again in 1967 and in 1970. In all, he would defeat an astounding five past, present or future world titlists; like Miguel Canto the dominance of his reign illustrated by the ability of his opponents to prosper only in his wake. The loss of his title (after a failed retirement attempt) to Kuniaki Shibata, who basically outfought Saldivar, is concerning, as is his lack of longevity, but in a short career the Mexican great beat enough champions for two careers, drying the paint on one of the most outstanding of featherweight title reigns.
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#63 Wilfredo Gomez (44-3-1)
“The wonder kid from Las Monjas” is what they called him as an amateur. This list is littered with men who have used boxing to wrench themselves from the most disgusting of poverties; none more so than Wilfredo Gomez.
A natural puncher even as a child, Gomez harnessed that ingenerate ability to become one of the most destructive hitters in fight history and the undisputed king of the super-bantamweights, drawing in his debut but then knocking out thirty-two consecutive opponents, including, in just his sixteenth professional fight, the excellent strap-holder Dong-Hyun Yum (then 50-2-6). He boxed seventeen successful defenses of this strap, scooping up the linear title in the process, all of them by knockout. To suggest that Gomez was dominant over the field is like saying the Romans did alright in Europe. Gomez was awesome. He was awesome in dispatching Royal Kobayashi in his native Japan with a single punch after just three rounds (a trick it had taken Alexis Arguello, in a career’s best performance, five rounds to turn all the way up at featherweight) and he was more than that in dispatching the legendary Carlos Zarate in just five rounds in October of 1978. Gomez did what no fighter down at bantamweight ever did and attacked Zarate directly, out-speeding and out-punching another technical genius and likely settling the question of who was the best box-puncher of that era—for the moment. Defenses followed, but Gomez’s ambition knew no bounds. He moved up to featherweight and met with no less a fighter than Salvador Sanchez. Sanchez was, in many ways, the Hagler to Gomez’s Sugar Ray, less natural gifted, bereft of the superstar stylings Gomez enjoyed and the bigger man determined to brutalize his due from the smaller man who earned the bigger purses. For Gomez however, there would be no miracle victory. He was clinically destroyed.
Whereas Zarate had seemed troubled in the wake of his defeat by Gomez, Gomez, although utterly devastated, went right back to work in the super-bantamweight division in his normal fashion, adding yet more defenses, including a victory over the superb Lupe Pintor in a brilliant and grueling battle.
When his war with the scales became more than he could overcome he finally was able to add a featherweight strap to his locker, outclassing Juan LaPorte in March of 1984. When it was ripped from him by a rampant Azumah Nelson in his very next fight, Gomez took the astonishing step of moving up in weight again and becoming the linear super-featherweight champion of the world, winning a fortunate decision over Rocky Lockridge. In truth, he lost the fight, but it was a performance of such pride and bravery that it enhances his standing still. Gomez, no longer the superb technical mover of the 1970s, had to stand and trade with the bigger man, “I hit him, then he hit me, it was brutal. We went at it from the start.”
Gomez, like Marciano, has all the apparent tools, physical, technical and psychological to remain, in his prime, undefeated in any super-bantamweight division you would care to array. Winning eighteen title bouts by knockout, many of them against superb opposition, is an astonishing achievement. Whilst it is true that he ruled over a weaker division than some, he ruled for many years, and with an iron fist, and this, combined with his determination to succeed at the higher weights and his brilliance on film, finds him in the high sixties on this list.
“The wonder kid from Las Monjas” is what they called him as an amateur. This list is littered with men who have used boxing to wrench themselves from the most disgusting of poverties; none more so than Wilfredo Gomez.
A natural puncher even as a child, Gomez harnessed that ingenerate ability to become one of the most destructive hitters in fight history and the undisputed king of the super-bantamweights, drawing in his debut but then knocking out thirty-two consecutive opponents, including, in just his sixteenth professional fight, the excellent strap-holder Dong-Hyun Yum (then 50-2-6). He boxed seventeen successful defenses of this strap, scooping up the linear title in the process, all of them by knockout. To suggest that Gomez was dominant over the field is like saying the Romans did alright in Europe. Gomez was awesome. He was awesome in dispatching Royal Kobayashi in his native Japan with a single punch after just three rounds (a trick it had taken Alexis Arguello, in a career’s best performance, five rounds to turn all the way up at featherweight) and he was more than that in dispatching the legendary Carlos Zarate in just five rounds in October of 1978. Gomez did what no fighter down at bantamweight ever did and attacked Zarate directly, out-speeding and out-punching another technical genius and likely settling the question of who was the best box-puncher of that era—for the moment. Defenses followed, but Gomez’s ambition knew no bounds. He moved up to featherweight and met with no less a fighter than Salvador Sanchez. Sanchez was, in many ways, the Hagler to Gomez’s Sugar Ray, less natural gifted, bereft of the superstar stylings Gomez enjoyed and the bigger man determined to brutalize his due from the smaller man who earned the bigger purses. For Gomez however, there would be no miracle victory. He was clinically destroyed.
Whereas Zarate had seemed troubled in the wake of his defeat by Gomez, Gomez, although utterly devastated, went right back to work in the super-bantamweight division in his normal fashion, adding yet more defenses, including a victory over the superb Lupe Pintor in a brilliant and grueling battle.
When his war with the scales became more than he could overcome he finally was able to add a featherweight strap to his locker, outclassing Juan LaPorte in March of 1984. When it was ripped from him by a rampant Azumah Nelson in his very next fight, Gomez took the astonishing step of moving up in weight again and becoming the linear super-featherweight champion of the world, winning a fortunate decision over Rocky Lockridge. In truth, he lost the fight, but it was a performance of such pride and bravery that it enhances his standing still. Gomez, no longer the superb technical mover of the 1970s, had to stand and trade with the bigger man, “I hit him, then he hit me, it was brutal. We went at it from the start.”
Gomez, like Marciano, has all the apparent tools, physical, technical and psychological to remain, in his prime, undefeated in any super-bantamweight division you would care to array. Winning eighteen title bouts by knockout, many of them against superb opposition, is an astonishing achievement. Whilst it is true that he ruled over a weaker division than some, he ruled for many years, and with an iron fist, and this, combined with his determination to succeed at the higher weights and his brilliance on film, finds him in the high sixties on this list.
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#62 Salvador Sanchez (44-1)
There is a mutter, sometimes, when discussing the career of Salvador Sanchez and the mutter mutters that we need to be careful about overrating him due to his early and tragic death, which cannot be counted in his favor—his potential is meaningless, it is what he achieved that counts. Firstly, only in the midst of the vagaries of an all-time great list can concerns about somebody dying “being held in their favor” come up naturally as a part of the discussion and secondly, Sanchez does not need to be propped up by sentimentality and sensationalism—he boxed a career before his death at the tender age of just twenty-three.
Consider: Sanchez has as many wins as Wilfredo Gomez, fewer losses than Wilfredo Gomez, and like Gomez he never lost his (featherweight) title in the ring. He boasts more defenses of his title than Vicente Saldivar, and, as we shall see, his level of competition is comparable. It is not for the sake of tender feeling or a dwindled sense of what could have been that he is ranked a hair’s breadth in front of his fellow Latin American compeers but rather the overall sense that he combines the best of what makes them both great.
Sanchez won sixteen of his first seventeen fights by knockout and then dropped a split decision to Antonio Beccera down at bantamweight before stepping up to complete what would be perhaps the second most celebrated run ever at featherweight (the first is locked down by a fighter very near the top of this list, and if you don’t know who that is, you will by the end of the series). It would last from late 1977 until summer of 1982 and included the deeply unpleasant job of picking up the featherweight title from Danny Lopez, likely the hardest hitter ever at the weight.
Sanchez looked sensational in the first round of their February 1980 contest, a jab that came all the way from his toes and a hook that looked like it might be a jab until it landed, a shucking, sliding style that did not compromise his offense and, given that he was only twenty-one years old, an almost offensive confidence bordering on smugness putting him firmly in control. His confidence was justified as over and over again he slipped the Lopez jab and found a punch.
It was not abnormal for Lopez to have a bad first round, but it was abnormal for such an aggressive showing to bring such roaring success. Sanchez was able to box-punch Lopez in range without allowing him to get his offense going and when in the eighth round he felt that Lopez had become worn, he initiated bruising exchanges, coming out almost exclusively ahead. When the champion finally cracked in the thirteenth, awash in his own blood, it was only after several rounds equally awash with a sense of inevitability.
After beating the superb Ruben Castillo (47-1, and the “1” came against Alexis Arguello) in his first defense, Sanchez rematched Lopez and showed him a subtle difference—boxing more—and although it produced an almost identical result, it was telling. Sanchez was a thinking fighter; wary of showing a top-class opponent the same thing twice he re-developed the same strategy to present new problems. It was this kind of astonishing tactical awareness that brought him wins over Juan LaPorte, Wilfredo Gomez, Pat Cowdell and Azumah Nelson.
Who knows what we in boxing lost when we lost Sanchez? He consistently showed the understanding and awareness of a veteran in his early twenties, a testimony perhaps to the number of fights and defenses he crammed into his short career. As a veteran, he might have attained the rare heights of strategic genius reserved for the likes of Archie Moore and Bernard Hopkins.
There is a mutter, sometimes, when discussing the career of Salvador Sanchez and the mutter mutters that we need to be careful about overrating him due to his early and tragic death, which cannot be counted in his favor—his potential is meaningless, it is what he achieved that counts. Firstly, only in the midst of the vagaries of an all-time great list can concerns about somebody dying “being held in their favor” come up naturally as a part of the discussion and secondly, Sanchez does not need to be propped up by sentimentality and sensationalism—he boxed a career before his death at the tender age of just twenty-three.
Consider: Sanchez has as many wins as Wilfredo Gomez, fewer losses than Wilfredo Gomez, and like Gomez he never lost his (featherweight) title in the ring. He boasts more defenses of his title than Vicente Saldivar, and, as we shall see, his level of competition is comparable. It is not for the sake of tender feeling or a dwindled sense of what could have been that he is ranked a hair’s breadth in front of his fellow Latin American compeers but rather the overall sense that he combines the best of what makes them both great.
Sanchez won sixteen of his first seventeen fights by knockout and then dropped a split decision to Antonio Beccera down at bantamweight before stepping up to complete what would be perhaps the second most celebrated run ever at featherweight (the first is locked down by a fighter very near the top of this list, and if you don’t know who that is, you will by the end of the series). It would last from late 1977 until summer of 1982 and included the deeply unpleasant job of picking up the featherweight title from Danny Lopez, likely the hardest hitter ever at the weight.
Sanchez looked sensational in the first round of their February 1980 contest, a jab that came all the way from his toes and a hook that looked like it might be a jab until it landed, a shucking, sliding style that did not compromise his offense and, given that he was only twenty-one years old, an almost offensive confidence bordering on smugness putting him firmly in control. His confidence was justified as over and over again he slipped the Lopez jab and found a punch.
It was not abnormal for Lopez to have a bad first round, but it was abnormal for such an aggressive showing to bring such roaring success. Sanchez was able to box-punch Lopez in range without allowing him to get his offense going and when in the eighth round he felt that Lopez had become worn, he initiated bruising exchanges, coming out almost exclusively ahead. When the champion finally cracked in the thirteenth, awash in his own blood, it was only after several rounds equally awash with a sense of inevitability.
After beating the superb Ruben Castillo (47-1, and the “1” came against Alexis Arguello) in his first defense, Sanchez rematched Lopez and showed him a subtle difference—boxing more—and although it produced an almost identical result, it was telling. Sanchez was a thinking fighter; wary of showing a top-class opponent the same thing twice he re-developed the same strategy to present new problems. It was this kind of astonishing tactical awareness that brought him wins over Juan LaPorte, Wilfredo Gomez, Pat Cowdell and Azumah Nelson.
Who knows what we in boxing lost when we lost Sanchez? He consistently showed the understanding and awareness of a veteran in his early twenties, a testimony perhaps to the number of fights and defenses he crammed into his short career. As a veteran, he might have attained the rare heights of strategic genius reserved for the likes of Archie Moore and Bernard Hopkins.
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#61 Lou Ambers (91-8-7)
Eight losses posted in nine years over more than one-hundred fights in an era as deep as the one he fought in is an insane return. He was stopped but twice, by big punching Lew Jenkins, both occurring in the final ten months of his career and this diminutive lightweight (5’4) took some scalps.
Take a deep breath, say it with me:
Bummy Davis, Henry Armstrong, Baby Arizmendi, Paul Junior, Tommy Cross, Pedro Montanez, Tony Canzoneri, Fritzie Zivic, Jimmy Leto, Cocoa Kid and about eighty-five other forlorn souls who had the bad luck to share the ring with a lightweight as brutal as any who would come after him.
Beyond the names lie almost exclusively clean wins, although his single victory over Armstrong is tainted by the involvement of referee Arthur Donovan who took away multiple rounds from Henry in what was considered excessive interference, and he was perhaps a shade lucky to get through versus Zivic. The victories over Canzoneri are legitimate and at least one of those encounters was as brutal a lacing as that ring giant has ever suffered, right behind his victory over Jimmy McLarnin no less. His shallower win resume and lack of their startling pound-for-pound achievements means he doesn’t quite belong in their company, but as a fighter he sure as hell belonged in their ring.
Eight losses posted in nine years over more than one-hundred fights in an era as deep as the one he fought in is an insane return. He was stopped but twice, by big punching Lew Jenkins, both occurring in the final ten months of his career and this diminutive lightweight (5’4) took some scalps.
Take a deep breath, say it with me:
Bummy Davis, Henry Armstrong, Baby Arizmendi, Paul Junior, Tommy Cross, Pedro Montanez, Tony Canzoneri, Fritzie Zivic, Jimmy Leto, Cocoa Kid and about eighty-five other forlorn souls who had the bad luck to share the ring with a lightweight as brutal as any who would come after him.
Beyond the names lie almost exclusively clean wins, although his single victory over Armstrong is tainted by the involvement of referee Arthur Donovan who took away multiple rounds from Henry in what was considered excessive interference, and he was perhaps a shade lucky to get through versus Zivic. The victories over Canzoneri are legitimate and at least one of those encounters was as brutal a lacing as that ring giant has ever suffered, right behind his victory over Jimmy McLarnin no less. His shallower win resume and lack of their startling pound-for-pound achievements means he doesn’t quite belong in their company, but as a fighter he sure as hell belonged in their ring.
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Love the list.
I think He's got 5 wins over Hall of famers. that's enough for me
Just for beating Jersey Joe and Joe Louis, Rocky has to be in top 20. (at least thats where I would have him) and he wasnt "hand picking" fights. That's my Main issue/gripe with FLoyd.
I think He's got 5 wins over Hall of famers. that's enough for me
Just for beating Jersey Joe and Joe Louis, Rocky has to be in top 20. (at least thats where I would have him) and he wasnt "hand picking" fights. That's my Main issue/gripe with FLoyd.
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Maybe in Floyd's later career but he beat everybody in front of him and looked good doing it.
And Louis was shot to hell, Walcott win was pretty good (not an ATG by any means).
Charles was more impressive and a top 10 lock of all time P4P (imo) but he was at his best as LHW but it's still a good win.
The fighters on the list from 25 and below have dozens of HOF(not an indication of greatness either, Hall of Fame).
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A quick 20 fighters who I'd no question put over Rocky (not in the top 20 but just a list of 20 fighters over him)
Greb
Langford
Robinson
Charles
Duran
SRL
Whitaker
Ali
Moore
Pep
Fitzsimmons
B. Leonard
Roy Jones
Napoles
Hearns
Hagler
Chavez
Arguello
Monzon
Hopkins
Greb
Langford
Robinson
Charles
Duran
SRL
Whitaker
Ali
Moore
Pep
Fitzsimmons
B. Leonard
Roy Jones
Napoles
Hearns
Hagler
Chavez
Arguello
Monzon
Hopkins
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Imma get killed for this but who besides Hearns, Benitez and a split with Duran did Sugar Ray Leonard beat?
He certainly didnt beat Hagler in their show down.
and do we just forget about Leonard late in his career. it's still part of his career. If we take away strength of wins for fighters who fought older fighters, dont you have to take into consideration how bad some fighters looked later on?
thats the thing with lists, whats more important? the skill of a fighter or their resume?
Roy Jones skill off the hook, his resume is average at best
He certainly didnt beat Hagler in their show down.
and do we just forget about Leonard late in his career. it's still part of his career. If we take away strength of wins for fighters who fought older fighters, dont you have to take into consideration how bad some fighters looked later on?
thats the thing with lists, whats more important? the skill of a fighter or their resume?
Roy Jones skill off the hook, his resume is average at best
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Sugar Ray Leonard is always going to get the poster boy treatment. Its arguable both ways whether he deserves it or not.
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He's a Top 5 WW with good reason, beating Hearns, the rematch with Duran (as much as I'm a Duran fanboy SRL did a great job there).
Faces Benitez ( A wunderkind and one of the greatest defensive fighters the sport has ever seen) and basically smashing him up and gets the TKO. Good wins in Shields, Virulet, Finch, and right before fighting Hearns lest I forget he goes up to 154 and beats Kalule (Damn good at the weight and would do in plenty of good fighters).
Retires for 2 years (comes back to beat Howard but gets decked and hangs them up again), and then comes back another 3 years to fight the undisputed MW champ and... beats him. If you think Hagler was past his prime then Leonard must have been near shot.
A definite Top 20 fighter, if not Top 15.
And a proper list is made up with a fighters skills and resume but for me it's a bit more important who they fought and how dominant at their best they were.
Jones has a prime Toney and Hopkins (maybe slightly green but still was great) and beats the latter with just one hand, his right being injured, and gets wide decisions over both.
Good wins over Griffin, Hill, Johnson, (Old) McCallum and then goes to HW and beats Ruiz handily.
I never get where people think Jones has an "ok" resume, it's good. Damn good.
Then you factor in his H2H (skills) and he's rated very highly.
Faces Benitez ( A wunderkind and one of the greatest defensive fighters the sport has ever seen) and basically smashing him up and gets the TKO. Good wins in Shields, Virulet, Finch, and right before fighting Hearns lest I forget he goes up to 154 and beats Kalule (Damn good at the weight and would do in plenty of good fighters).
Retires for 2 years (comes back to beat Howard but gets decked and hangs them up again), and then comes back another 3 years to fight the undisputed MW champ and... beats him. If you think Hagler was past his prime then Leonard must have been near shot.
A definite Top 20 fighter, if not Top 15.
And a proper list is made up with a fighters skills and resume but for me it's a bit more important who they fought and how dominant at their best they were.
Jones has a prime Toney and Hopkins (maybe slightly green but still was great) and beats the latter with just one hand, his right being injured, and gets wide decisions over both.
Good wins over Griffin, Hill, Johnson, (Old) McCallum and then goes to HW and beats Ruiz handily.
I never get where people think Jones has an "ok" resume, it's good. Damn good.
Then you factor in his H2H (skills) and he's rated very highly.
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Agreed.
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What do you think of the list so far Pro?
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Best thing about the list are the history lessons
I want to just be able to raid the late Cus d'amato's film room and see what all is up in there
I want to just be able to raid the late Cus d'amato's film room and see what all is up in there
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I'm glad Azumah Nelson was on it, overlooked by so many.
McCallum isn't as forgotten as years ago, the fight against Toney was awesome. Makes how dominant Kalambay was over him in their fight that much more impressive.
McCallum isn't as forgotten as years ago, the fight against Toney was awesome. Makes how dominant Kalambay was over him in their fight that much more impressive.
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Keep em coming love reading and watching the vids man
I'm loving it so far. I don't have any problems with it so far, maybe just with Marciano. I think once you start getting into the top 50 or so, it'll pick up with who you think should be higher or lower than another fighter.
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Yeah, it actually started as a Top 20, then 50, and lastly 100. It took 160 odd pages to complete it.
Good thread it was.
Can't wait for Greb's write up. Not too many know of that man's greatness.
Good thread it was.
Can't wait for Greb's write up. Not too many know of that man's greatness.
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#60 Freddie Steele (125-5-11)
Undisputedly the most underrated middleweight ever to have drawn breath, Steele’s paltry five losses from more than one-hundred and forty contests came as bookends to a prime during which he was undefeated for four calendar years and fifty-five contests. Even before hitting his stride he twice flattened future middleweight strap-holder Ceferino Garcia sending out the warning that, whilst he might be king of a shallower pond than the one that pooled in New York, nobody was really going to be safe once he left Washington and California behind him.
This proved to be the case as after defeating Joe Glick, Frankie Petrolle, Gorilla Jones, Fred Apostoli, Vince Dundee, Gus Lesnevich and lifting the middleweight title against Babe Risko, Steele added the best New York had to offer. Frank Battaglia and Ken Overlin both succumbed early and then in 1938, with his record standing at 122-2-11, Apostoli exacted a terrible revenge on the champion, breaking his breastbone in a non-title fight. It ushered in the end of Steele’s astounding prime and he stuttered through his curtain call going 3-2.
Although he has been accorded recognition in the previous decade, Steele was something of a forgotten man for much of the last seventy years; no more. One of the best runs in all of middleweight history makes him a lock for any ATG middleweight list and a pound-for-pound list such as this one. Game, and in his best years granite-chinned, he had two-handed hitting power and was a superb boxer. He feasted on the best in the world when they dared broach his Washington territory and he dented New York when he finally got there. His failure to rematch Apostolini for the title is a black mark but is heavily outweighed by a brilliant march to the title.
Undisputedly the most underrated middleweight ever to have drawn breath, Steele’s paltry five losses from more than one-hundred and forty contests came as bookends to a prime during which he was undefeated for four calendar years and fifty-five contests. Even before hitting his stride he twice flattened future middleweight strap-holder Ceferino Garcia sending out the warning that, whilst he might be king of a shallower pond than the one that pooled in New York, nobody was really going to be safe once he left Washington and California behind him.
This proved to be the case as after defeating Joe Glick, Frankie Petrolle, Gorilla Jones, Fred Apostoli, Vince Dundee, Gus Lesnevich and lifting the middleweight title against Babe Risko, Steele added the best New York had to offer. Frank Battaglia and Ken Overlin both succumbed early and then in 1938, with his record standing at 122-2-11, Apostoli exacted a terrible revenge on the champion, breaking his breastbone in a non-title fight. It ushered in the end of Steele’s astounding prime and he stuttered through his curtain call going 3-2.
Although he has been accorded recognition in the previous decade, Steele was something of a forgotten man for much of the last seventy years; no more. One of the best runs in all of middleweight history makes him a lock for any ATG middleweight list and a pound-for-pound list such as this one. Game, and in his best years granite-chinned, he had two-handed hitting power and was a superb boxer. He feasted on the best in the world when they dared broach his Washington territory and he dented New York when he finally got there. His failure to rematch Apostolini for the title is a black mark but is heavily outweighed by a brilliant march to the title.
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