Why is Sweet Pea so highly regarded?

Pernell Whitaker made the fatal mistake of interrupting the powers that be in hijacking a Jose Luis Ramirez-Julio Cesar Chavez fight that had been planned for early 1988, insisting that Ramirez follow through on his promise to box him. Whitaker merrily packed up his 15-0 record and headed for foreign soil, unintimidated by the connections Ramirez’s management enjoyed on the European continent and expecting to dominate the 100 fight veteran in the other corner and lift his first alphabet strap. He was right about the first part but wrong about the second. In the first half of the fight a wide-eyed “Sweet Pea” boxed wonderfully. He snapped out a crackling southpaw jab, doubling it, trebling it, sweeping his trailing hand over the top even as Ramirez dared to edge forwards, stabbing a harder punch into his Mexican opponent’s ribs when the opportunity presented itself. He was at his unhittable, dazzling best. In the second half of the fight, he tired a little, hampered by a damaged hand, and Ramirez began to chug into range, still swallowing more punches than he landed but no longer embarrassed. The split decision victory that went his way though, was as embarrassing as any ever seen, one judge managing to find 118-113 in Jose’s favour, a candidate for the most bizarre scorecard in the history of fights.

The fight is significant in more than one sense because whilst Ramirez was able to fight Julio Cesar Chavez for lineage, Whitaker would have to wait until 1990 and his astonishing one round knockout of Juan Nazario to establish his own lineage, and wait even longer to match Julio Cesar Chavez. He finally tracked down his fellow pound-for-pound great in 1993 up at welterweight. Whitaker, now a seasoned veteran, controlled almost the entire fight, even out-punching the legendary in-fighter up close and forcing the Mexican to turn counterpuncher for spells in an attempt to wrestle back some measure of control. His punches feathering around an elusive Whitaker who stabbed Chavez up the middle and then turned on a pin to leave his opponent flailing at nothing. It was a masterful performance ten pounds north of his best weight but two of the judges colluded to rob him once more, ludicrously ruling a majority draw.

These two horrible decisions aside, Whitaker won nine “title” fights at lightweight including a total humiliation of Ramirez seventeen months after the original and against fellow strapholders Greg Haugen, Freddie Pendleton, Azumah Nelson and Juan Nazario, before stepping up to 140lbs, taking belts from Rafael Pineda, defending once and moving up to 147lbs where he won an additional nine title fights, finding time to add a strap at light-middle, before losing out to the much bigger Oscar De La Hoya at the age of thirty three. In his prime he was without a legitimate loss and dominated two weights with what amounts to some of the very best boxing ever seen in colour. He stands, along with Roy Jones, as the genuine colossus of the modern fight game, nothing less than the modern Sugar Ray Robinson in the sense that his enormous physical gifts were matched by a technical brilliance that sustained him when his body (and lifestyle) began to betray him.

 

noobs despair.