For the first time in the history of boxing, a national organization controlling the sport has deprived a man of his title because of his religion. Until the atrocious Adolf Hitler regime had come into being, it always was a recognized fact in boxing that a title could be won and lost only in the ring. Of course at times an American boxing commission has relieved a title holder of his crown because he has failed to live up to the requirements of a champion within that territory, but in such cases, the action was approved by popular acclaim.

But no such acclaim will be rendered the German Boxing Federation for its bigoted, depraved ruling against the Jewish fighters of Germany. The Federation shocked the boxing world a few weeks ago when it banned Seelig, holder of the national lightweight and middleweight championships and declared his titles vacant because he is a Jew. Seelig was born in Germany and has brought ring honors to his Fatherland, yet because he is of Hebrew faith, he has been shorn of his titles.

And at the same time the Federation issued an ultimatum to all German fighters that they must not be controlled by Jewish managers under penalty of being ostracized. What about Max Schmeling?

Will he permit the Federation to dictate to him when he has not fought in Germany for almost four years?

Will he throw aside the man who made him a world champion, Joe Jacobs, American Hebrew, to abide by the German edict?

Will he accede to that ruling when he has an opportunity to regain the world crown by continuing under the guidance of this American Jew?

I venture to predict that he will tell the Federation officials to take a trip to Hades, where they belong. The Federation ruling particularly is directed against Schmeling and Neusel, another great heavyweight fighter who is managed by a Jew.

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By Nat Fleischer

Boxing did itself proud in the War Bond show in Madison Square Garden, in which Pvt. Beau Jack, the Georgia Buzz Saw, gained the decision over Pvt. Bob Montgomery of Philadelphia, holder of the lightweight crown via New York. The two soldiers, granted a furlough to participate in the show as its headliners, left the arena beaming with joy, for they had set a world’s record for gate receipts with a grand total of $35,864,900 in war bonds purchased by 15,882 persons.

The cheers that greeted these young warriors will long be remembered by them for they came mostly, not from the usual everyday fight fan who is a regular attendant at Garden shows, but by a mixed assembly of which more than half were service men and women, with almost a thousand recent arrivals from the battlefields of France and Italy. They were the guests of those who had purchased bonds and had turned in the tickets which went with each sale for use by some wounded person of the armed forces.

Many of those present at this patriotic show, staged under the guiding hand of the veteran Mike Jacobs and aided by the Sports Writers’ War Bond Committee of New York City, were in attendance with nurses at their side, because of their wounds, but they gave vent to their enthusiasm like the most lusty fight fan who had been no nearer a battlefield than the Great White Way.

These men who had paid a heavy sacrifice, with loss of arm, leg or eye, and in many cases with both limbs gone, had come to enjoy a fight of another kind, with nature’s hands as the weapons instead of steel bayonets, hand grenades, or guns, and they were treated to exactly what they had hoped for—a real, lively, two-fisted affair that kept the gathering on edge from start to finish. It wasn’t as interesting or thrilling a mill as two of their three previous bouts, but there was enough action to satisfy all and that’s what counted most.

They enjoyed every minute of the bout, judging by their shouts of encouragement and their generous applause at the end of each round. It was a proud night for the ring men, a glorious night for Mike Jacobs, whose untiring efforts brought about the success of the show, with prices of admission ranging from a $25.00 war bond to a $100,000 bond for a ringside seat in the first row. Every one of these seats was sold and each was contributed to a wearer of the Purple Heart just returned from the scene of much more bloody action than the Garden fight produced.

When anyone hereafter tries to toss mud at boxing, he had better look at the figures—$35,804,900—and hide his face in shame. It was a feather in the cap of boxing with an all-time gross that is likely to stand as a record for many years.

The fight itself was secondary with those who had used their tickets in person. With them the treat was those laughing, carefree, chipper lads sitting in the first five rows, boys who had come as guests of bond buyers, Some on crutches, others with bandaged legs and arms, covered eyes, and some in wheel-chairs—all to make merry in the true American way. If boxing never does anything else for charity or for war fund drives, what was accomplished in its name in the Garden should keep it in the good graces of the American fight fans.

Where else, in what other country, could such a record be made? I daresay that not even in England, the cradle of boxing, could $35,000,000 be raised in one night by a fight. It takes the Americans to do things big, and when it comes to patriotism, they come no higher than the dyed-in-the-wool American sports fans. They have proved it repeatedly since Pearl Harbor. The stay-at-homes are doing their bit, boys! They’re backing you men at the front.

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By Nat Fleischer

Is Sugar Ray Robinson the greatest boxer of the last half-century?

Although a recent poll designated Jack Dempsey as the man, with Joe Louis as runner-up, a surprisingly large number of fistic experts, old and new, can’t see anybody but Robinson as the best all-around fighter of the past 50 years.

They have some good, sound, logical arguments to back up their opinions. Let’s lend an ear to the genteel and dignified Mr. Jimmy Bronson, for example. Active as a manager and promoter since the turn of the century, Mr. Bronson certainly qualifies as a genuine authority on things pugilistic, and here’s what he says:

“I don’t see how you can fail to name Ray Robinson the best fighter of the past 50 years, for the simple reason that he can do anything any other boxer could ever do and maybe just a little bit better. Pound-for-pound, I can’t recall a harder hitter. On the other hand, I have never seen anybody who is harder to nail with a good punch. Great hitter, great boxer—what more can one ask?” explained Mr. Bronson.

“I’ve seen them all since (Joe) Gans,” chimed in veteran publicist Francis Albertanti, “but I can’t rate anyone over Sugar Ray. Those four wins over LaMotta sold me—a welterweight licking a good tough middleweight! And what a fighter he is when the chips are down!”

Support for Robinson comes from an unexpected source in the person of the oldest living former world’s champion—Frank Erne. Erne, sprightly, clear-eyed and mentally alert at the age of 75, unhesitatingly ranks Sugar Ray with the greatest of his day.

“This boy is a natural. He does everything just as well as any fighter I have ever seen,” is Frank Erne’s tribute to the current welterweight champion.

As might be expected, the younger generation of boxing observers can’t see anyone but Robinson as top man in the pugilistic parade. The case for Sugar Ray is best expressed here by Harry Markson, mastermind of the International Boxing Club, which stages bouts in Madison Square Garden. Harry, who is still on the youthful side, doesn’t place himself in the same category with long-timers like Bronson, Albertanti or Erne, but reasons it this way:

“With all due respect to all the good fighters who were before my time, I can’t conceive of a better fighter than Ray Robinson, and here’s why: If you take all the requisites necessary for a great boxer, you find that Ray Robinson not only possesses them all, but does everything to perfection. Everybody agrees on that. So, to be better than Ray Robinson you have to improve on perfection. I ask you—is that possible?”

Most of the old-timers in the fight business agree that only Benny Leonard and Gans rate with the Harlem Hotshot in both the skill and punch departments.

Veteran scribe Ed Van Every, while recognizing Robinson’s greatness is still loath to rate him above Benny Leonard. Van Every looks at it this way:

“For all-around ability the two were about the same. In my opinion, if there is an edge, I would give it to Leonard because he was such an outstanding repeat performer.

“Take the two Tendler fights, for example. In the first, Tendler gave Benny all kinds of trouble. The second time they clashed, Lew never had a chance. Benny knew what Tendler was going to do before Lew did.

“Now, against Marty Servo, Robinson had to go all out to win both times. I think Leonard would have had Servo pretty well figured out the second time where Robinson still had trouble.”

The equally ancient Lew Raymond doesn’t see it that way.

“Sure, Leonard was a wonder, but he fought a lot of fellows smaller than he was. I know, because he fought some of them for me. I can’t remember ever hearing about Ray Robinson fighting any little fellows. They’re usually bigger than he is. Leonard-Robinson, it’s a close race, but I’ll go along with Robinson.”

Fight people today generally have a class all to himself reserved for Robinson. A typical opinion is voiced by promoter and matchmaker Chickie Bogad:

“I’m ready to argue with any man in the world that Ray Robinson is the greatest fighter that ever lived. They can bring in all the Mickey Walkers, Tunneys, Armstrongs, Dempseys and Louises they want. All those guys were either boxers or punchers. Robinson can box as well as anybody ever could, and for his weight, he hits as hard as anybody ever did. What more can you ask from a fighter?”

The careful and canny Irving Cohen, manager of Rocky Graziano, in one of his rare unguarded moments some years ago, got off an opinion that represents the feelings of most of his fellow managers about Robinson. Cohen was managing tough Terry Young at the time, when someone hopefully hinted at a Young-Robinson match. The audacity of this proposition brought about one of the few moments when Cohen has lost control. Soft-voiced Irving really sounded off as he yelled:

“What are you saying! Ray Robinson! Why, he’s the greatest fighter that ever lived. I’m a manager, not an undertaker!”

Since they don't come any smoother or smarter than Irving, his words should carry a lot of weight.

Among his battling brethren, Robinson commands a similar respect. Ike Williams is a lightweight champion who would ordinarily be challenging the welterweight title holder, but so long as that title holder is Ray Robinson, Ike admits that nothing is further from his mind.

Such a fight could mean a $50,000 purse for Ike, but it’s still nothing doing. In his own division, things have reached the stage where Robinson, the champ, is willing to make concessions to get a challenger into the ring with him. He even goes so far as to offer to split the purse with capable Charley Fusari.

Fusari is apparently willing to forego a probable 25-grand-plus and a chance at the title, in favor of tangling with middleweights rather than get in there with the welter king. This is unprecedented.

In years gone by, no matter how formidable the champion, the contenders seldom passed up the opportunity for a crack at his title. This is no discredit to Fusari, who is a good welterweight, but just goes to show how far Robinson towers above the rest of his division.

Ray Robinson has been much criticized, and with reason in many instances, but fight followers are unanimous that he is probably the most “humane” of all the great boxers. It is no secret that Sugar Ray often goes in there with the idea of doing as little harm as possible to an opponent. In such cases he puts on a show of every fancy boxing trick ever heard of, to the usual delight of the spectators and with a minimum of wear and tear to his foe.

With punchers, he is seldom so charitable, however, since he cannot afford to he. On those occasions, he sends them in as hard as Louis or Dempsey ever did, pound-for-pound. The George Costner and Steve Belloise fights were striking examples of the power the stylish slugger can generate when such blasting is called for.

Furthermore, for a fighter who features fast movement, Sugar Ray seems to be wearing unusually well. There was some wishful thinking that he may have lost some of his lustre two years ago when he razzle-dazzled his way through 10 not-too-exciting-non-title rounds with Kid Gavilan. He took care of any such opinions along those lines with that snappy snuffing out of Sugar Costner on March 22, last.

As wisecrackers pointed out, Ray has gone back just one minute in five years. On February 14, 1945, he had Costner out of there in a little over one minute; last month it took him all of two minutes, 49 seconds to erase the much-improved Cincinnatian.

Ray’s durability is surprising to many, for at one time it was believed that the blandishments of the bright spots held more allure for the Sugar Baby than the rigors of the ring. Although the owner of one such hot spot himself, Ray concerns himself much more with the cash register than with the revelry. He is a strict teetotaler, and that always helps.

It is becoming more and more evident that the class limit of 147 pounds is no longer his best fighting weight, yet he is still so potent at this poundage that potential challengers invariably have other engagements when a title match with Ray Robinson is suggested. At 154 pounds or thereabouts—his weight for the Costner bout--he 1oses none of his speed while picking up added TNT with the extra poundage.

With an opponent given any kind of a look-in at all by the public, Robinson packs in the customers. In the recent Costner affair, a downpour failed to drench the enthusiasm of 11,592 Philadelphians, who put $53,752 in the till for a non-title fight. There were as many out-of-towners as Philadelphia natives among the crowd who coughed up a whopping $175,754 for the Gavilan title shot last July 11, and good old Steve Belloise drew down the biggest purse of his career when the gate for the New York Robinson-Belloise battle soared to $120,860.

It should be noted that Ray inspired these turnouts, although an odds-on favorite every time.

Unlike some other mechanically able boxers there is nothing drab or uninteresting about his ring technique. Louis, Johnson, Gans, and most of the other great Negro fighters fought with a flat-footed shuffle. Sugar is up on his toes like a ballet dancer.
His lithe, graceful movements can be appreciated by the uninitiated as well as the connoisseurs of fist fighting. In his title-winning battle with Tommy Bell, Robinson took one of his rare trips to the canvas when the hard clouting Bell landed a good one. Sugar went down with a grace that led fight manager Jimmy DeAngelo to crack:

“That’s the only guy I ever saw who’s got class even on the floor. He even looks good getting knocked down.”

Coming out of a rugged neighborhood of the type the social workers call “depressed,” and with a background subject to all the dangers contingent to such environment, no claim is made here that Sugar’s career outside the ring has been exemplary or that he hasn’t made mistakes. The consideration presented here concerns fighting ability pure and simple and when his gifts in this direction are detailed, his ranking as the greatest boxer of them all can’t be belittled.

His purely mechanical assets of unusual skill and power being obvious, they have been dealt with superlatively for years. Other and less readily recognized qualities which add up to making Ray Robinson a near perfect fighting machine are the ability to take a punch unusually well for such a frail appearing fellow, and an ability to maintain full possession of a shrewd fighting brain when he is tagged.

Ray seems immune to panic if the going gets rough. He can whale away and rip and tear like a little Dempsey at times, for all of his skill.

The record book adds more weight to the say-so of Sugar Ray’s acclaimers. He has been beaten only once. That loss was to middleweight Jake LaMotta, present holder of the title, whom he defeated four times out of five. A couple of draws with middleweights Henry Brimm and Jose Basora are the only other blemishes on an otherwise perfect record.

Possibly the greatest tribute of all to this incredible pugilist comes in the suggestion frequently made and seriously received that Ray Robinson challenge Ezzard Charles or light-heavy king Joey Maxim. This proposal has been advanced by none other than New York State Boxing Commission boss Eddie Eagan, who, gazing at the welter king with wondering admiration advised him to build up to 160 pounds and go after the heavyweight title.

The good Colonel was probably thinking of the original Joe Walcott, a 142-pounder, who beat the great light-heavyweight, Joe Choynski, when he came up with that one. Conservative Gene Tunney has been known to express similar sentiments regarding Robinson’s chances against light-heavyweights and heavyweights.

Most folks are inclined to laugh off any attempt to rate any one fighter as the superior of all others past and present. Those who reserve this spot for Ray Robinson counter by defying the questioners to come up with anybody with as strong an argument as they can put up for the Sugar Baby.

Try comparing your own candidate some time with Robinson and you will find that Sugar Ray is hard to top.

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By Nat Fleischer

The confusion around the ring following the bout between Bud Smith and Jimmy Carter with the world lightweight championship at stake, proved the ridiculousness of the 10-points scoring system in use in all National Boxing Association territory. It made the Cincinnati Commission and its officials look foolish as they romped around from one side of the ring to the other trying to tally one score card, that of Judge Blink.

It will be recalled that his score showed 140 points for each boxer. As a result the announcement was made that Smith retained his throne by a vote of two judges with the third calling it a draw.

In Cincinnati, as in parts of Canada, the referee has no vote and the decision is rendered by the three judges. Mr. Blink’s notation on his card was 140 to 140, but when the points were counted by the Commission, it was found that he had voted 144 to 141 for Smith, making the decision unanimous.

Then came added comedy. When Judge Blink learned that the Commission had reported his card as favoring Smith, he declared:

“I don’t care what my score card shows, I voted for Carter.”

Humorous? Rather!

We can sympathize with the official, a gentleman in his seventies who had considerable experience in the boxing game. I know of many far more youthful judges in N.B.A. states who have had great difficulty with their addition.

All of which harks back to the scoring systems in use in various states. Of all, New York’s is by far the best. It is simple.

An ordinary primary schoolboy can quickly tally the card, on which the officials allot from one to four points to a winning battler with zero for the loser. Once the four points for any one round is reached, the fight is automatically halted since such figures may only be given for three or more knockdowns and unless the fight is a title bout, the contest is stopped when this occurs. Even in a championship affair, the margin of four-to-zero has never been recorded.

In New York, the round-by-round system augmented by the four-points system has been found to excel. How much simpler it is to tally a round 1 to 0 when the margin of victory is small, than 10 to nine.

When the NBA has its next annual meeting, it should abolish its present weird, unwieldy scoring system in favor of that used in New York or that used in England, the five-points system. Then we’ll be certain that when Judge Blink officiates again, he won’t have to wrack his brains to add up to 140 points.

And what’s more, the Cincinnati Boxing Commission won’t be held up to ridicule and receive world-wide adverse criticism for its failure to carry out a world championship fight properly.

Let’s do away with the 10-points system. It doesn’t help to keep up the public’s confidence in boxing.

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By Nat Fleischer

Sonny Liston, the Philadelphia jawbreaker whose name has headlined the sports pages of the country following his knockout of Zora Folley in the third round in Denver, has only one more obstacle to hurdle to gain a match with champion Floyd Patterson. No heavyweight has done more to earn a heavyweight championship fight than Sonny. But contractual commitments, his association with individuals who have been banned in boxing and past record outside the ring, stand in his way.

Sonny passed his most important ring test when he stopped Folley, his nearest rival in the ratings. This important win followed knockouts of Roy Harris in one round and Cleveland Williams in two, leaving only Eddie Machen of Redding, California, and Henry Cooper of England, of the first five, as possible opponents. The better of the two, Machen, soon will be placed on the also-ran list when Liston and he clash on September, in Seattle.

Folley was Liston’s ninth-straight knockout victim. It was Sonny’s 13th triumph in 31 battles. Twenty-one of his rivals suffered knockouts. No other heavyweight contender can match the record of this lanky Philadelphian, who, finding it difficult to obtain first-rate opposition, has done it the hard way—by granting heavy financial concessions.

In his fights with Harris, Williams, and Folley, Liston was so confident that he accepted the short end of the purses to prove his point. He accepted $25,000 for his bout witl1 Folley while Zora took down $40,000.

Despite his fine record, and his willingness to eliminate all other contenders for a shot at the crown, Liston is likely to grow whiskers before he gets that chance.

Johansson and Patterson have a return-bout clause and according to promoter Bill Fugazy they will meet for the third time in the Los Angeles Coliseum on November 1.

If Ingemar regains the throne—unlikely, but possible—Cus D’Amato, manager of Patterson, will see to it that Floyd will get another chance to regain the title. Cus says that a return bout clause will be in the new contract.

Thus the round-robin may continue indefinitely, based of course, on a Johansson victory, in which ease Liston would be stymied. The California Commission can prevent this by insisting on a contract, such as the National Boxing Association suggests, in which the winner agrees to meet Liston. Such an agreement would be a big boom for the game.
Since starting his climb, Liston has been on his good behavior. He has lived down his unsavory past and should no longer be punished.

Since his ability is such that he is being touted as the best heavyweight in the field, there are those who have come forth with demands that he be banned from taking part in a world heavyweight championship match. I disagree, vehemently!

A parole board seeks to help a parolee stay out of mischief by keeping him occupied in the field for which he is best suited. Boxing is Liston’s profession and he stands out as the best challenger.

Recently the National Boxing Association took a poll of its members and a unanimous vote was cast in favor of Sonny’s receiving a title shot. That is also the opinion of this publication.

The California Commission, which frowns on return-bout clauses in contracts, should see to it that the winner of the Los Angeles bout agrees to meet Liston. It must not permit any agreement granting a fourth match should Floyd lose. Liston has proved his right to get first call and the public would favor such a contest.

I.iston is not the type to remain idle. He seeks work and has no intentions of growing stale awaiting a title bout.

Two days after scoring the Folley knockout, he accepted terms for a bout with Machen. Machen, like Folley, is no man’s setup, despite his one-round knockout at the heels of Ingemar Johansson in 1958. Since then he and Folley fought a listless 12-round draw, after which Folley defeated him in 17.

Since the Johansson kayo, Machen and Folley have alternated frequently in first and second places in international ratings.

Liston’s triumph over Folley has hurled Sonny into the center of the heavyweight picture. The interest in the division has increased and to Patterson and Liston belong the honors for keeping boxing in the spotlight.

The one defeat suffered by the 27-year old challenger was meted out to him by Marty Marshall in Detroit, when Sonny suffered a broken jaw. Later, in a return bout, he knocked Marshall out.

The 6-foot, 215-pounder Liston has a left that that Rocky Marciano says is the best he has seen. He is a slow fighter, but makes up for that with the power of his punch with fists that measure 14 inches in circumference.
Machen was the only one in sight for Liston who could add to Sonny’s prestige if he could duplicate the Folley feat. That's why Pep Barone accepted Eddie as Liston’s next opponent.

Liston has proved in his last four contests that whatever deficiencies he has, he compensates for with his power. He is the kind of fighter who must be kept busy to remain at his best and no finer move could have be made than to have him face Machen.

If Patterson again defeats Johansson —a prediction we now make—D’Amato wil1 find detours around the Philadelphia destroyer pretty hard to find. A fight with Liston would be a natural—a far bigger moneymaker than was the one with Johansson at the Polo Grounds.

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By Nat Fleischer

Cassius Clay, heavyweight champion of the world, last defended the title on March 22, 1967, stopping Zora Folley in seven rounds in New York.

Not long thereafter Clay refused to accept a draft into the Army, and eventually the Federal courts found him guilty of a felony. The Supreme Court did not reverse the lower courts, but asked them to throw out any significant evidence obtained with wiretapping and bugging.

Now the case goes back to the Supreme Court, which may look at it a second time next fall or winter, or in the not too predictable future thereafter.

During the nearly three years in which Clay has been in limbo, The Ring has continued to recognize him as the world champion, pending final action by the Supreme Court. He has been out on bail of $5,000, barred from leaving the United States.

For more than three years, this magazine, and I personally, have received an average of 200 Clay case letters a month, in toto. These communications have backed up The Ring; have attacked The Ring; have either supported or blasted me personally; have demanded that Clay be continued as the champion until disposal of the case; or that Cassius Clay be barred from boxing.

The letters bearing on the case continue to be split into numerous categories, with the majority supporting the policy of The Ring. Letters demanding Clay's being deprived of the championship and others are divided like this:

1. Accusations of being in cahoots with, in the employ of, the Black Muslims and Clay.
2. Charges of plain, ordinary bribery by the Clay interests.
3. Charges of being in the pay of Joe Frazier, with the idea of working up a Clay-Frazier fight.
4. Strong support for The Ring and Nat Fleischer, in their determination to let Cassius Clay have his day in court.
5. Letters of the who-gives-a-damn class, which insist that the fight public no longer is interested in Clay.
6. The strongest condemnation of Clay as a "draft dodger" and "a phony conscientious objector."
7. Invitations to Clay to move to Egypt and "his pal Nasser."
For a time, The Ring made it a practice to answer all letters with a statement of policy.

Of late, The Ring has abandoned this expensive and time-consuming job. This editorial is an open letter to all those whom the case may concern, interest, and involve.

The Ring magazine was started by me 48 years ago. It has won and kept the respect of all boxing buffs, all its thousands of readers, all its numerous subscribers the world over.

The bona fides and honesty of The Ring very seldom have been challenged, never with success. You cannot please all the people all the time, Mr. Lincoln said. But comes close.

Letters which cast aspersion on The Ring and me are in the low minority. "Just so long as you back up a traitor we will not read your magazine," say some of the correspondents. This we regret greatly. But we have seen no reason for changing policy and taking the backing of The Ring from Cassius Clay as the heavyweight champion of the world, inactive though he may be.

It's up to the Supreme Court. In the meantime, many authorities refuse to approve a ring appearance of Cassius Clay just so long as he has that felony hanging over him.

Clay has been getting chances without number to tell the fight fans why he is inactive as the champion of the world. He has not done this with any success.

One night he called the Frazier-Ellis match a fight between his one-time sparring partner and an amateur, and the best available in the heavyweight class, just because Clay is not allowed to fight. He did declare a match for himself with Frazier the big desideratum. This without changing his rating of Joe, an obvious inconsistency.

The Ring may be forced to change its attitude toward Clay insofar as the world title is concerned.

The Federal courts and the Supreme Court have been extremely laggard in their handling of the case. It has been a hot potato politically. It has been a strong deterrent to boxing interest in the United States, if not in other parts of the world.

The Ring and I wonder how much longer the courts will dilly-dally on this matter.

The Frazier-Ellis fight may make fight fans more extremely intolerant of the championship situation.

The Ring has refused to support either Frazier or Ellis as a world champion.

But The Ring does admit that in the near future it may be forced to review the case, look into its future, and determine if Clay's position can be maintained for the best interests of boxing.

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By Michael Katz

There are millions of reasons why Ray Leonard should not fight again. I don’t know how many and neither do you. It’s none of our business.

And so is whether Ray Leonard should fight again.

The choice is Leonard’s. Hopefully, he will have a choice. Hopefully, no doctor is going to tell him in the next few months that the risk to the left eye is too great. Hopefully, he will hear that the surgery not only repaired the detached retina, it made it stronger than ever. Hopefully, Ray Leonard will again light up a ring. Whether he does or not is none of our business.

The early returns are favorable: Operation success, patient recovering well. “He’s not going to be a visual cripple,” said his lawyer, Mike Trainer, shortly after the stunning news that boxing’s biggest star was injured.

And as Ray Leonard, in those harrowing days after the operation, lay in a Johns Hopkins hospital bed, a patch over his left eye, the well-wishers and the hypocrites jointly decided that enough was enough: Ray Leonard should not fight again.

“He doesn’t need the money.”

“He’s crazy to risk his sight.”

“He has nothing more to prove.”

“He doesn’t need boxing, he can be a television or movie star.”

No, he doesn’t need the money. But Ray Leonard has not been fighting for money for more than a year. The same fierce athletic pride that made him so great drove him on, always seeking new obstacles to overcome. Money isn’t everything, especially when you have millions. Ray Leonard was not born to be rich. He was born to be a fighter.

Of course he would be crazy to risk his sight. And if the doctors tell him there is such a risk, Ray Leonard will retire. But all boxers are crazy, anyway. There’s no guarantee on any fight contract that brains won’t be scrambled or eyes thumbed. Leonard has been taking chances ever since he put on a pair of gloves. If his doctors say there is no more chance of the problem recurring following the prescribed recuperation period than there was before the injury, how can anyone else make a better diagnosis sight unseen?

Leonard has a lot more to prove. Unquestionably one of the best fighters of his generation and one of the best in the welterweight division’s rich history, his place in that history was not yet decided.

Jimmy Jacobs, the boxing film collector, fight manager, and historian, was asked to rate the fighter among all welterweights in history.

“I can’t,” he replied. “The only real time you can evaluate a fighter is after the book is closed. Now we may never know how great a fighter he could’ve been, and certainly he already proved that he was a great fighter. But it was very possible for him to have gone on and won the middleweight championship, and who knows where it would stop.”

And what if Ray Leonard does not want to be a movie star? What if he wants to be a boxer? There can be no doubt that he has enjoyed his profession. If he did not need it, then mountain climbers don't need mountains. And it’s none of our business if A.J. Foyt still wants to drive racing cars at more than 200 miles an hour at the age of 50 as long as he endangers no one else.

There was a volume of sincere wishes that Leonard peacefully retire. But there was also a disturbing outcry from boxing’s establishment, the same people in many cases who wanted to see Ray Leonard disappear. Ray Leonard, it must be remembered, was an independent. The Establishment does not like to deal with independents, especially when the independent is in the driver’s seat.

“The so-called boxing insiders,” said Mike Trainer, “where were they before? There isn’t a promoter or a TV network or an arena that gave retinal examinations to all fighters before fights. If they knew how prevalent this type of injury is, why didn’t they? I’m not talking about Ray. Thankfully, Ray caught it himself. I’m talking about boxers who don’t get the same care. Those commissions worried about Ray, why don’t they make retinal examinations—they’re not very expensive—mandatory?”

Ray Leonard will get advice. His wife, Juanita, and son, Little Ray, will advise him to retire. Perhaps he will. Perhaps after six months of staying home, without having to get up at 5:30 in the morning to go off and run five bone-chilling miles but instead being able to enjoy the warmth of a full family life, Ray Leonard will choose not to run and not to fight.
Probably, it will not be an easy decision. We can only guess. But the minds of champions are not easy to read. Champions are different.

“Ray is a terribly special person,” said Jimmy Jacobs. “Enormously competitive. He is the type when you tell him something is impossible, his attitude is, ‘You say it can’t be done because you can’t do it.’ And then he’ll go out and do it.

“I believe that if he is told his eye is completely healed, and that boxing would put it in no position to be injured anymore than it would his other eye, I think he will fight again. People who say he’s terribly wealthy and could make a very fine living doing other things are thinking the way they would think in his position, not the way he thinks. The thing that makes people fascinating is that they are different.”

Emanuel Steward, his old rival from Thomas Hearns’ corner, would like to see Ray Leonard fight again.

“He was always one of my favorite fighters to watch,” said Steward. “He was so well-balanced, so well-thinking.”

I would like to see him fight again, to see the dazzling hand and foot speed, the frightening beauty of this baby-faced boxer with rare punching power, the cold courage of a man born to fight.

Yes, I would like to see him battling again on the inside with Duran, exchanging subtle strategy on the outside with Benitez, and braving Hearns. I would like to see him fight Hagler.

But there is nothing wrong with my eyes and I take no risk in watching. So it is none of my business whatever Ray Leonard decides.

It would be with some sorrow not to be able to watch him fight again. But we can always close our eyes and look at memories. Mike Trainer is right: Let us not worry about Ray Leonard. Let us worry, about the blind commissions leading the disenfranchised majority of fighters.

Make mandatory the thumbless gloves and make them work. Make prefight retinal examinations mandatory. Weed out the brave referees who allow too much punishment, especially in the preliminary bouts where the risks are seldom worth the taking.

Let’s open our eyes.

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By Steve Farhood

Never call me a boxing apologist, you know, the type of ringsider who claims he’s never seen a punch-drunk fighter, and that if you examine the statistics, boxing is no more dangerous than bocce. Violence is a major part of both boxing and its appeal, and if you deny it, you’re either lying to yourself, or you’re a Michael Nunn fan.

Like any other observer who loves the sport, I encourage uniformed rules and medical improvements. But they can only reduce—and not eliminate—head injuries and fatalities.

Which brings me to Richard Steele’s stoppage of the Julio Cesar Chavez-Meldrick Taylor title fight. Because there were two seconds left in the last round and Taylor was comfortably ahead on two of the three cards, Steele’s intervention will be debated long into the next century. But I’m not going to wait that long to tell you why he did the right thing.

First of all, it must be understood that Steele’s call was a subjective one. It’s possible that had he allowed the bout to continue, the bell would have rung before any more punches were thrown, and Taylor would have triumphed by well-deserved split decision. It’s also possible that upon receiving a signal from Steele, Chavez, his adrenaline racing, could have rushed across the ring and fired one last straight—and potentially tragic—right.

If you believe that Steele should have recognized the flashing l0-second warning lights and considered the time remaining before making his decision, you’re missing the point. Given the situation, Steele’s sole responsibility was to determine Taylor’s condition and his ability to defend himself. It was long ago that in most states, referees were wisely relieved of scoring fights so they could concentrate on their primary duties. By having them act as in-the-ring timekeepers, boxing would be taking a giant backward step.

Never mind that Steele received no response after twice asking Taylor if he was okay. Why do referees demand verbal communication? Most fighters answer “I’m okay” by instinct, just as most instinctively rise from knockdowns. A fighter who tells a referee he’s all right is not necessarily a fighter who should be waved back into battle. That aside, Steele took a look at Taylor’s eyes and, realizing how the brutal pace—and Chavez’ brutal fists—had weakened him, decided to stop the bout. Taylor and his camp might have objected, but in retrospect, Steele’s judgment seemed solid. After the bout, Taylor was hospitalized. He had swallowed two pints of blood, was suffering from dehydration, was bleeding in his kidneys, and had a fracture of the orbital bone surrounding his left eye. Other than that, he could have boxed another 10 or 12 rounds.

Those who call for a referee to stop a fight as soon as one of the boxers is hurt are failing to acknowledge the nature of the beast. But given the circumstances of the Chavez-Taylor fight and the track record of Steele, those who question the timing of his stoppage are failing to acknowledge that the beast can kill.

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By Ivan Goldman

A spirit of forgiveness is sweeping our proud land. Tonya Harding has returned to the ice, and Mike Tyson is back in the ring committing brand-new atrocities. Perhaps next we'll see O.J. scoring NFL touchdowns and the Unabomber released to his hut to resume wrapping packages.

But the return of Iron Mike has been a ghastly mistake. It's time for him to hang up his gloves and get a day job. Yes, quitting time. Finito. No mas. End of story. Bedtime for Basket Case.

When some of us suggested that Nevada throw him out of boxing after he chewed off a piece of Evander Holyfield's ear and spit it on the canvas, we were told it's not fair to take away a man's livelihood for one mistake. Since then, Tyson has fought twice. Against Frans Botha, while wrestling with "The White Buffalo" and referee Richard Steele, our hero did his best to break his opponent's elbow. Against Orlin Norris, once again wrestling Steele, the determined Tyson threw a successful cheap shot long after the bell rang five times and Steele had hollered "Break!" in his ear. On the flagrant foul chart, Tyson is oh-for-three in his last three.

His supporters say he has to make a living. But what if a truck driver tried to run over stray toddlers every time he took his rig out of the lot? Should he keep his license so he can make a living?

If Tyson were a younger man, I would suggest his license be suspended, not revoked. If he hadn't perpetuated a series of other exceedingly serious offenses, I wouldn't even suggest a suspension on the heels of the Norris incident. But Iron Mike is a sociopathic 33-year-old recidivist. Suspend him and he will come back—just as vicious, but even older. Somebody, possibly Tyson, will get seriously hurt. Tossing him out permanently is a better solution.

Yet before he even had his hearing the Friday after the Norris fight, the Nevada commission had already signaled Tyson would keep his license. The excuse? Steele called the foul against Norris unintentional. But Steele's original decision to take two points from Tyson made it clear he considered the foul both flagrant and intentional.

Once Norris let it be known that he could no longer walk, everything changed. An intentional foul ruling would have forced the commission to suspend or revoke Tyson's license because he is a repeat mutilator. So presto, as fast as Vegas' Siegfried and Roy can make a white tiger disappear, members of the commission and its executive director, Marc Ratner, huddled up with Steele, and an intentional foul became unintentional. This is the kind of decision rendered when boxing must fit within the context of a casino-driven economy. Like a 400-pound man confronting a fresh doughnut, Vegas has a hard time saying no to Tyson.

But by now, even Vegas is getting a bit weary of him. The no-contest ruling forced casinos to return wagers, which made no one happy except the few smart or lucky bettors who put money on a draw.

Although cuts, bruises, and Queer Street are part of the game, Tyson's opponents end up with wrenched knees, missing sections of ear, and elbows bent the wrong way. What's he have to do to lose his license? Pull out an AR-15?

Deciding he's more knowledgeable than X-rays and doctors, Tyson ridiculed Norris' dislocated kneecap and said he should have continued to fight anyway, just as earlier he concluded Holyfield should have stayed in their second fight missing a chunk of his ear. But it's not what Tyson says that counts. It's what he does. And he shouldn't be allowed to do it anymore. He needs to work on his problems out of camera range and out of boxing.

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