 The Worldwide Boxing Magazine Site |
Got your free t-shirt yet? |
| articles from the magazine ... |
|
SEPTEMBER 2000
Each month we bring you a selection of articles from the current and past issues of BOXING MONTHLY. To buy the magazine, see our subscription or back issues pages, or use our world distribution map to find a news-stand copy. Why not use our Interactive Forum to express your own boxing comments and opinions!
|
 |
THE LION WHO COULD WHINE
Possibly the greatest ever Mexican fighter, Julio Cesar Chavez showed towards the end of his career that he could moan and bitch with the best of them. GRAHAM HOUSTON reports |
|
WHINGING WARRIOR: Chavez's complaints after first De La Hoya fight spoiled his reputation
- Get Big Pic Although Julio Cesar Chavez was predictably pounded by Kostya Tszyu he leaves
boxing — assuming he does indeed stay retired — with a long list of
accomplishments that arguably place him as the greatest fighter ever to come out
of Mexico. El grande campeon captured six major titles in three weight classes, starting
with the World Boxing Council super featherweight (9st 4lbs, or 130lbs) title in
September 1984, when he stopped fellow-Mexican Mario "Azabache"
Martinez in eight rounds for the vacant championship at the old Olympic
Auditorium in Los Angeles. He also won the WBC lightweight and light-welter titles (recapturing the
latter belt after losing it to Frankie Randall), the World Boxing Association
lightweight championship and International Boxing Federation junior welter belt. His 20-year career began as a 17-year-old bantamweight in February 1980 and
he went an astonishing 90 bouts without defeat before suffering his first loss,
when Frankie Randall defeated him on a split decision at the MGM Grand, Las
Vegas in January 1994. He was past his best by this time but was to fight on for
another six years, including the two big fights with Oscar De La Hoya in which
he was never off his feet although stopped each time. There are those who will say Chavez was a good "on top" fighter who
became a chronic complainer when things were not going his way, and there is
truth to the assertion. He in effect quit after bumping heads with Randall in their rematch, escaping
with a split, technical decision when the fight went to the scorecards due to
Chavez being cut. The general consensus that night was that a tiring Chavez knew
he could not have won and simply wanted to get out of the fight. Chavez disrespected De La Hoya after their first fight, but fought well in
the rematch. He looked a shell of his former self when soundly beaten by journeyman Willy
Wise at the Las Vegas Hilton last October and there were stories of heavy
drinking and darker excesses. Chavez got himself into the best possible condition for the fight with Tszyu.
But, after 109 bouts and having just turned 38, he did not really stand a
chance: he knew what he wanted to do but his body, his legs and his reflexes
were unable to do what was being asked of them. It was ever thus with faded
fighters. Yet for years Chavez was virtually unbeatable. He won 25 successive
championship fights from super feather to light-welter, from 1984 to 1993,
before fighting to a controversial draw with Pernell Whitaker for the
welterweight title at San Antonio. I was ringside at the Alamodome and thought,
as did the majority of observers, that Chavez had been beaten clearly. Afterwards, Chavez complained that referee Joe Cortez allowed Whitaker to get
away with low blows and holding. The New York daily Newsday ran a headline that
read "Call Him Julio Cesar Crybaby". Hugh McIlvanney wrote in The
Observer that the scoring of judges Mickey Vann of Britain and Franz Marti of
Switzerland, who each had the bout a draw, was "demented logic" and
that Whitaker could consider himself "a victim of larceny on the grand
scale". It all really went downhill for Chavez from here on, although he was to win
several more title bouts at 10st (140lbs). Overall, he had 31 wins, four losses and two draws in world championship
contests. Probably his most sensational fight was when he dramatically stopped the
unbeaten, fast-handed Meldrick Taylor with two seconds remaining in the final
round at the Las Vegas Hilton in March 1990. I was ringside for what was one of the most memorable fights I have been
lucky enough to see. Taylor piled up points with flashy combinations but Chavez
kept pressing ahead and was doing damage whenever he caught his opponent to body
and head. But, coming out for the 12th round, Chavez needed to stop Taylor to win. He
did just that, knocking down his opponent with a big right hand. Taylor got up
but his face was lumpy and swollen, he had been weakened by body punches and
from swallowing his own blood, and, two seconds from the final bell, referee
Richard Steele waved the fight over. That was sensational stuff, but Chavez’s most technically complete
performance probably came when he systematically broke up the hard-hitting
Puerto Rican, Edwin Rosario, in 11 rounds in their lightweight title fight at
Las Vegas in November 1987. Chavez was moving up from the 9st 4lbs (130lbs) division, and the fight with
Rosario was expected to be fiercely competitive. Instead, Chavez outclassed his
opponent. At his best Chavez was like a machine, steady, relentless, seemingly
tireless. He was an exceptionally accurate puncher and heavy handed. He could
hurt a man with the left jab. The right hands and the left hooks were truly
thudding punches. You did not have to be seated in the first few rows of
ringside to know that every time Chavez hit a fighter he was taking something
out of him. He was a good boxer, too, smart, clever at blocking and ducking punches. His
combination punching was sharp: downstairs, upstairs. The left hook to the body
was debilitating. His chin was rock-solid. Roger Mayweather hit him with the sort of right hand
that put fighters on their backs, and Chavez did not budge. He overpowered
Mayweather in two rounds in that 9st 4lbs title bout, which marked Chavez’s
first appearance on American network television, in July 1985. Later he was to
stop Mayweather in 10 rounds for the WBC 10st title, simply walking through the
"Black Mamba" and taking the fight out of him with body shots at Los
Angeles. When Chavez stopped Greg Haugen in five one-sided rounds in Mexico City a
record boxing crowd of 132,274 attended at the Azteca Stadium. I saw him on TV and on site in his biggest fights, including the disputed
draw against compatriot Miguel Angel Gonzalez at the Mexico City bull ring in
March 1998, when I noticed afterwards that the master scoresheet actually showed
Gonzalez winning by one point. The WBC later announced there had been a
"human error" in transferring the scores of one of the rounds on to
the master sheet, when a 10-10 round was wrongly credited to Gonzalez. I remain
sceptical. The Chavez who fought Gonzalez was a fighter in decline. Chavez at his best
was something special. He rose from the drug-infested streets of his hometown of
Culiacan in northwestern Mexico to become virtually a patron saint of his
country. But, last November, the father of three sons told a Mexican TV network
that he had considered suicide after a divorce, a custody battle with his
ex-wife and having to face tax evasion charges. "At times I’ve wanted to
leave all this, but I never did it because of my kids," he said. The WBC plans a farewell dinner for him in September, to be attended by
Mexico’s top sports and show business personalities. It should be an emotional night as celebrities pay their respects. A fine
note, perhaps, on which to bow out. But whether Chavez, having become accustomed
to adulation and being at boxing’s centre stage for many years, will ever be
able to come to terms with retirement is another matter altogether. |
|
Also available to read from issue:
|
|
On sale on the last Thursday of every month Ensure you never miss a copy . . . buy your subscription or back issues here. |