Is this year?s crop of potential Hall-of-Fame inductees very good? They are. Are some of them excellent? Probably. Are they worthy of being remembered?
Once a year, members of the Boxing Writers Association of America receive a ballot from the International Boxing Hall of Fame with a list of potential candidates. When the ballot envelope arrives, I?m excited to see the roster for a couple of reasons. The first: many of the listed names remind me of the best fights I?ve seen, either live or on TV. The second: the right to vote for a Hall-of-Famer, to secure a fighter?s legendary status, has real gravity. It?s an honor to be part of a process that recognizes boxing?s elite.
This year?s election process is new and improved. The list of potential inductees has been streamlined to thirty names. And the updated modern category (as opposed to the old-timer category), is indeed more modern (candidates must have fought their last fight after 1988).
I haven?t been a member of the BWAA for very long, but until now the HOF selection process was easy. The brightest stars glittered on the ballot sheet, their names powerful enough to pull hand to paper for the requisite check mark. The select few men I selected almost always got to the hall.
This year, my hand was poised, I was ready to make my mark, but my hand didn?t move. I put down my pen. I did some due diligence?reading the well-prepared thumbnail sketches of each fighter, checking records on boxrec, and, most important, reminiscing about the fighters I knew, which felt like the most honest approach. Boxing leaves impressions?small, well-defined impressions like a single blow to the head, and large, broad-brushstroke impressions that encapsulate a ring-life lived. My holistic impression of a fighter, an impression more visceral than cerebral, felt like the right gauge for separating great from merely damn good.
My gut told me that if I needed to think too long and hard about whether a fighter was truly great, truly worthy of induction into boxing?s Hall of Fame, then the fighter probably wasn?t. My gut told me that if I didn?t know the fighter well enough, if he hadn?t made an indelible impression on me (and I?ve been a pretty serious follower of boxing for many years), he probably wasn?t superlative. My gut also told me that if a fighter was on the ballot, and his fighting prime was before my time, I shouldn?t be the one to judge his greatness?those who had seen him in action, who had witnessed the best of his career with a cold, critical eye as well as a warm, passionate heart, would have voted him into the hall already. Video clips and boxrec stats and thumbnail sketches provide a sense of a fighter, but a fighter?s presence, his true impact on the fight game at a given time, can only be measured by witnesses from that time. To be a fair judge, I need to know, really know, the fighters on the ballot?to have witnessed his fights, to have recognized the worth of his opponents, to have seen his behavior in the ring, to have judged, critical-cold and passion-hot the ways he faced adversity and the ways he dominated when his feet touched the canvas.
There were a couple of close calls on this year?s roster. Michael Moorer, who had an excellent light-heavy career and was the first southpaw heavyweight champ. Riddick Bowe, who never lived up to his potential, but polished off a list of title-holders (at least in name). Ray Mancini, whose heart was legendary, whose fights were wars. Nigel Benn, who brutalized some tough, tough men. But in the end, I wasn?t sure they were great. As a college teacher, I know too well the dangers of awarding superlative grades to non-superlative efforts. The ultimate problem with grade inflation, a problem that?s rampant these days, is that it tarnishes the A, renders supposed excellence meaningless. Suddenly the Dean?s List is not such a big deal. Suddenly Magna Cum Laude represents the merely adequate.
And then I started to think?who are the Hall-of-Famers fighting now, the men we are all familiar with because we see them fighting a few times a year and because our memories of them are so fresh they?re in living color without the gloss of sentimentality that comes from phrases like ITALICRemember when? There?s Mayweather and Pacquiao. They may not have fought each other (yet), and neither one of them are best-evers, but each man has been dominant for years at a time. There are the Klitschkos, at least Wladimir?I?ve never liked Dr. Steelhammer?s safety-first style, but have to admire his longevity as heavyweight king. There?s Roy Jones, who garnered too many hyperbolic adjectives, but whose undeniable speed made him the face of boxing for almost a decade. There?s Bernard Hopkins who, fighting strong at almost fifty, is a literal living legend. There?s Juan Manuel Marquez, of course. There?s Andre Ward whose domination in the Super Six tournament and mastery of the sweet science makes him worthy. But would I put Carl Froch on this list? Chad Dawson? Marco Huck? Glen Johnson, my favorite road warrior? These are all fine fighters. Each has had moments of distinction. But are they great? Are they superlative? Are they deserving of a place in the Hall of Fame?
Like every boxing fan and like every boxing writer (though some won?t admit it), I have my biases. There?s one fighter who has never been on the ballot and, if he were, would guide my hand to place a check mark. Iran ?Blade? Barkley. I think Iran is my litmus test. Fall below Iran, you don?t deserve to be in the Hall of Fame. Stand beside Iran or higher, you deserve boxing?s highest honor. Did Iran lose a number of fights? Sure. Were some of his losses controversial? Sure. Did he stay in the game too long? Sure. But look what he did. He won titles in three different weight classes?a feat that puts him in an elite class. He beat one of the shoe-in Hall-of-Famers in Thomas Hearns, not once but twice. He fought in a Ring Magazine fight of the year and a Ring Magazine upset of the year (when Ring Magazine meant something). And he possessed the hungry spirit we want in our best fighters. There?s a reason Iran gets the biggest hand when retired fighters are announced at venues across the country. There?s a reason fellow fighters make a bee-line to Iran whenever he?s in the house. If Iran Barkley?s name is not on the ballot, then at the very least, the names on the ballot must have done the equivalent of winning three titles in three weight divisions. Some of the names are sentimental favorites. Some have been hyped beyond their real skills. Some have the sheen of celebrity. But I?m not sure any of these men, on their best nights, were as good as Iran was, on his best nights.
Is this year?s crop of potential Hall-of-Fame inductees very good? They are. Are some of them excellent? Probably. Are they worthy of being remembered? Absolutely. All the listed pugilists, now at rest in retirement, were brave and battle-seasoned and admirable for having tested themselves the way most men never will, against men who were often their equals. But are the fighters on this list superlative?
My gut told me No.
I left the ballot sheet blank, signed my name, and sent it in.
Adam Berlin is the author of the recently published boxing novel Both Members of the Club (Texas Review Press/winner of the Clay Reynolds Novella Prize). His other novels are The Number of Missing (Spuyten Duyvil), Belmondo Style (St. Martin?s Press/winner of The Publishing Triangle?s Ferro-Grumley Award) and Headlock (Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill). His stories and poetry have appeared in numerous journals. He teaches writing at John Jay College of Criminal Justice in New York City and co-edits J Journal: New Writing on Justice. For more, please visit adamberlin.com.
