Ali had welts on his body by the pulled punches from The Rock when they filmed the "Superfight" in the summer of 1969...just before Marciano's death in a plane crash at the age of 45...one day before his 46th birthday...Rocky broke bones and blood vessels...he sheared teeth off at the nubs..almost killed Carmine Vingo...Marciano ruined guys...it took some guys months to get over a beating by Marciano...one of the great punchers of all time...
At the risk of having some posters eyes glaze over, tempted to repost my recollections of Rocky. Perhaps it'll put his power in perspective. If your knee-jerk is: "No! Not again!", I'll resist the temptation.
I watched Rocky train in NYC, in camp in the Catskill mountains, and fight live. He was an acquired taste; it took a LONG time. But, even skeptics on Jacob's Beach became believers. He was clumsier sparring than a ham-‘n’-egger against most half-decent boxers in the gym...and it didn’t help that he resembled the Michelin Man in layers of sweat clothes, wearing 16-ounce gloves that looked like pillows on Thalidomide arms. Seeing him before the bell gave no hint of his being any kind of a fighter -- let alone world class -- more like a catcher to hone some one else's tools. A first-time observer would’ve advised him to pick up a hard hat. The only lesson he could teach was: what NOT to do. But every guy who looked like he boxed rings around him -- pinned his ears back -- never missed him with jabs -- came out of the ring lookin' like he dropped from a 10-story building and landed flat-footed. Rocky's cuffing, pawing, mauling, grazing shots, flicks to the sides when he was tied-up inside, impacted them like they'd been bumped by a rhino. From ringside, the only evidence was an "OOMPH!" grimace and quiver. Rocky was ponderous. Fighters could see the punches. They weren't surprised; they were pounded down. Every sparring partner who looked sensational against him, said the same thing exiting the ring: "I hurt all over." Good fighters rage back if they’ve been stung…Sometimes instinct, sometimes pride, sometimes to ward off a predator who smells blood in the water. The slick ones shoeshine for time. The solid pros -- no matter how resolute -- after being buzzed are rarely able to rumble back with maximum firepower. That was Rocky’s edge: He hit just as hard when his knee cleared the canvas – or clearing cobwebs -- as he did at the opening bell. Sure Rocky did all the things you read about to drain a man’s will, but that singular ability was more demoralizing than anything else in his arsenal, according to Louis, Moore, Walcott and LaStarza, who I spoke with years later, and trainers Ray Arcel, Whitey Bimstein, Al Silvani, and Freddie Brown. Rocky's training sessions beggared the mind, onlookers cringed imagining what his cannonades to a depth-charge-sized heavy bag would do to them. Could he handle himself against a 260-lb Sequoia-sized heavy?” Back in the 1970s a rag-tag bunch of inexperienced U.S. college hockey players were pitted against the Soviet juggernaut in the Olympic Games that steam-rolled all opposition and won gold several times with the same players. To a man, they were bigger, faster, better, stronger, and more experienced. They’d’ve beaten NHL teams. Came the game, they were out-played. Every statistical advantage can be thrown out head-to-head. It’s who wants it more …'specially over 15 rounds. Nobody ever wanted it more than Rocky.
Broner likes to bottom and bottom hard. But this thread is about how Marciano love to take it in the pooper