I know we have quite a few sentimental Boxing fans on the Classic Forum so I was wondering if any of you have ever cried or come close to tears watching a fight before? Maybe it was a sad occasion, like Muhammad Ali beating whipped by Larry Holmes, or perhaps a performance was so great you were humbled, like Roberto Duran vs Iran Barkley. There has been numerous wars over the years, where both combatants have gone to outrageous lengths to win a fight, taking bad beatings, and I've found this to be a humbling experience, too. Fights like Alexis Arguello vs Aaron Pryor or Muhammad Ali vs Joe Frazier 3. Any takers?
Unless somebody you love dies OR you are in a stadium where the national anthem is rendered in full flow you shouldn't cry. That seems obvious enough. But. Eunank-Watson II you knew something was very wrong
The first time I saw Jean Francois Bergeron lose, it was such a horrible beating, he really lost his ATG potential in that fight, even in going the distance. I nearly lost it there. But the right guy won, and I felt very happy for him and it counteracted the feeling of sadness for Bergeron. Right after that match he was stopped in two by Dominick Guinn.
This content is protected If you have followed a fighter for his entire career and you see him get a massive beatdown I wouldn't blame ya if you shed a tear.
Holmes-Ali made me sick. Especially the documentary. I later felt bad for Holmes too because he shouldn't have took that beating against Tyson.
I'd sooner cry over Marco Antonio Barrera getting beaten up for 11 rounds and then rendered unconscious than I would hearing the National Anthem.
I had seen Boza Edwards defeat Chacon after 13 rounds, and earlier, Arguello beat him after seven. Both times, he ran out of gas. When Chacon-Limon IV took place, I was sick in bed with the flu, and started out watching it lying on a sofa. In the closing seconds, when Bobby staggered him, and it looked like Limon might go down, I leaped up from the sofa. Jumping up and down, I was waving over with my right arm, body English to induce Bazooka to fall from right to left on the screen, convinced that if he hit the deck, Schoolboy would score the 10-8 round he needed to put himself over the top. That's the most excited I ever got watching a televised match. After Boza Edwards stopped Chacon, the fight press published their boxing obituaries of the man. Everybody who saw his losses to Arguello and Boza Edwards knows what a staggering comeback from oblivion Chacon-Limon IV was at the time. Huffing and puffing between rounds late in that loss to Boza Edwards, he was pleading with his corner for, "Just one more round!" Then, staggeringly, unbelievably, he became a champion again by dethroning a rival who was crowned twice by outlasting two top opponents. There's a very good reason Chacon-Limon IV supplanted Pryor-Arguello I as FOTY. Nobody saw it coming. In his 30s, Schooboy turned his most notorious weakness into his greatest strength. That was the World Boxing Council's final match scheduled for the championship distance, and that made all the difference.
The only time I ever teared up over a fight was maybe a couple years ago, when I happened to find Leo Randolph - Ricardo Cardona on youtube. It's sadly been taken down since, but I knew Leo when I was fighting, back at the Tacoma Boys Club. He was always so cool to me as a kid, very helpful and encouraging to such a noob that none of the trainers wanted anything to do with. I knew how much that title meant to him, so it was cool to see it finally, albeit many years on. When he's pounding Cardona along the ropes in the 15th and the referee steps in, Chris Schenkel calls out to the nationwide audience, "We have a new champion!! We have a new champion!!" Leo's corner, family and friends were all jumping up and down and the expression of joy on his face was memorable. I got a little misty-eyed over that one, but that's about it.
Because of Bass and Lederman's syndicated Cavalcade of Boxing program, the history of that title was not as obscure to American fans as it might have been. Soo Hwan Hong's incredible comeback knockout over the favored Hector Carrasquilla in the inaugural WBA SBW title fight had been seen by millions, as was Ricardo Cardona's horrifyingly gory bloodbath dethroning of Hong in Seoul. (The referee, terrified for his life, didn't dare stop it in the champion's hometown. Hong himself, weakened from blood loss, finally waved it off himself.) Cardona was established in American minds as a credible champion. Randolph's loss to David Capo had also been seen, and got a tremendous amount of press. When Cardona tagged him early, and Randolph stiffened up and dropped, it looked like the challenger was out of his league. Seattle used a 14 foot ring for Randolph-Cardona, the smallest ring I can recall off hand for a televised boxing match. As their bout progressed, the commentators extensively discussed coaching Leo was supposed to have gotten on the execution of his jab from Ali. Although considerably shorter than the 5'8" Cardona, he actually outboxed the Columbian from what little ring center there was, and seriously wobbled him with a jab at one point. Considering the fact that Cardona had won five consecutive times over the championship distance, while Randolph had never gone past ten rounds (and stopped nobody beyond round five), the way it ended, as well as the result, was a big surprise.
Great info, thanks! I showed that fight on another forum a couple years back, and someone mentioned that Randolph's jab reminded him of Quartey's. It did in that fight.
Yeah, I suddenly started sobbing uncontrollably whilst watching the rematch between SRR and Carmen Basilio once.
Well, I did almost when Alexis Arguello was so compassionate and nice in consoling Ray Mancini after their fight...I though about how damned decent Arguello was.