"Taking it on the chin is as much mental as it is physical" Wayne McCullough

Wayne McCullough.


Many boxing fans think that to have a good chin you have to have a big, muscular neck, be built like Mike Tyson and have legs like tree trunks.

I'm known as having one of the best chins in boxing. Many have likened my chin to a slab of granite, but contrary to what people believe, I've got a skinny neck and I'm certainly no Tyson.


In my opinion, you are either born with a good chin or you're not. But having a good "chin," so to speak, is as much a mental thing as it is a physical one.


A lot of fighters are known for having a good chin but when they get hit by a big shot, their brain tells them to go down. Personally, I don't think you can have a great chin and still be put on the canvas.

It's been highly publicized both online and in my autobiography that I've been out on my feet just once in my career. Back in 1994, I fought former world champion Victor Rabanales in an eliminator fight for a shot at what would become my WBC world championship title.

I was very inexperienced and still adapting to the American style of fighting. Rabanales had about 50 fights under his belt, whereas it was only my 13th, but I was sure he wasn't going to stand in my way of becoming a world champion.


Nevertheless, in Round 9, Rabanales almost shattered my dreams when he hit me with a shot so hard that my head snapped back and all I could see were black flashing lights and three of him. Within a millisecond, I was faced with the choice of staying on my feet or going down. I choose to stay on my feet.


When you get hit with a hard shot -- that makes you consider going down -- you definitely feel a buzz going all the way down your body to your toes. I've felt it and seen the black flashing lights that come along with that feeling.


You grit your teeth when you're hit full force. It's almost as though your brain is offering you a deal -- a 50-50 chance, per se -- go down or stay up.


I have always chosen to stay up.


I believe that not going down has a lot to do with your mental state of mind. Your head and body are telling you one thing, but your heart and determination to go on are telling you another.


A few years after the Rabanales fight, I fought a prime, 23-year-old Erik Morales.

Coming into my fight with Morales, the Mexican was riding a nine-fight knockout streak and was promising to do the same to me -- nothing I hadn't heard before.


After the fight, I understood how those previous nine guys had been knocked out. I just don't know how I wasn't. In the second round, he hit me with a three-punch combination -- a left, right, left uppercut. Every punch landed flush and they almost took my head off. Instead of going down I did what looked like an Irish jig and tried to push Morales back.


It didn't really work, so I said to him, "hit me harder." Only problem was, he did!


From that point on we both knew he wasn't going to knock me out but the shots I took that night should, and could, have knocked anyone else out. My choice was to stay on my feet and take all the punishment he wanted to dish out.


Morales was a great puncher. He hit me as hard in the first round as he did in the 12th, carrying his power through the fight.


He told me afterwards that he thought I was crazy that night and we still joke about our fight to this day. Maybe I am crazy or perhaps I was trying to play a mind game with him, but I was hurting so bad and ready to go down; I just didn't want him to know that.


On the other side of the spectrum are fighters who are blessed with a great punch but no whiskers. Tommy Hearns, for example, could knock almost anyone out with a single punch but if he got hit on the right spot, he went down.


Honestly, I'd rather have a solid chin than be a one-punch knockout artist. As long as I've got my strength and jaw, I can mix it in the ring with anybody for 12 rounds. In over 300 amateur fights, over 30 pro fights and thousands upon thousands of rounds in the gym, I've never gone down.


So if there's anybody out there who has the image in their head of the big-necked or stocky guy, come take a look at me -- all 122 pounds of me soaking wet!

 

I knew taking a punch was more mental than physical as do most people including yourself. Just thought I'd post this from a fighters perspective since chins have been discussed on here over the last few days. Physical condition and being comfortable at the weight obviously helps a great deal as well.

 

The Ring magazine gave McCullough's chin the award as 'the best chin in boxing'

 

I'd like to follow up on what I've highlighted above. If McCullough was ready to go down it certainly never looked like it from a viewers angle. He never wobbled or looked like going down throughout the entire fight. Maybe he just hid the pain well. McCullough took Morales' punches for 12 rounds in a similar fashion to Hagler taking Hearns' while it lasted. He just walked through everything.

The man was made of granite.