On the first day of a new month, a monarch of the boxing world passed through to a new kingdom.
Alexis Arguello, known the world over as “The Explosive Thin Man” because of the destruction he wrought on others with his fists, reportedly used those hands to end his own life in most explosive fashion. His body was discovered inside his home in Managua with a gunshot wound to the chest, a chest that had housed one of his sport’s most enormous hearts in terms of competitiveness and compassion for his fellow man.
Compassion for his impoverished family compelled him to leave school at age 14 and embark on a career in boxing. After compiling 58-2 (48 KO) record as an amateur, the rail-thin 16-year-old engaged in his first professional contest on August 1, 1968 with the most catastrophic result possible – a first round TKO loss to one Cachorro Amaya. In fact, he lost two of his first five fights after dropping a six-round decision to Miguel Espinoza the following April. It was a most inauspicious beginning but the determined teen-ager refused to give in to whatever discouragement he must have felt.
As Arguello’s body filled out ever so gradually, so did his skills – and his successes. He returned to the ring 15 months after the Espinoza loss and over the next three-and-a-half years he was a holy terror as he won 33 of his next 34, 28 by knockout and 21 within the first three rounds. His biggest win during that stretch was a one round icing of Jose Legra, a former featherweight champion who boasted 133 wins in 148 bouts and only two previous KO defeats. The 21-year-old Arguello parlayed that stunningly decisive victory into a shot at Ernesto Marcel’s WBA featherweight title on February 16, 1974 in the champ’s home country of Panama.
Weighing just 122 ? to Marcel’s rock-solid 125 ? Arguello was soundly defeated over 15 rounds, not just because of Marcel’s flashing fists but also his fertile mind. It proved to be a transformational moment, for Marcel’s all-around skills convinced the youngster that he needed to become more than a one-dimensional bomber if he wanted to achieve greatness – and the financial security that came with it.
“Up until then, I thought that power was everything,” Arguello told MaxBoxing’s Thomas Gerbasi in a 1998 interview for CyberBoxingZone.com. “And that night I found out that technique, speed, intelligence, is what controls the sport. It’s not power. When I fought that day I realized that boxing is not only strength and power. It’s beauty, it’s rhythm, it’s coordination, it has movements that are like a ballet dancer’s. The movements are to look good and connect the punches one after the other and to leave you in a position where you are in balance. Like you’re flowing. And that’s the beauty of it. And that night I found that out. That defeat helped me to get the grounds better to understand that that was the day I grew up as a boxer.”
From that day until the day he hung up his gloves for good, Arguello was the epitome of style and grace in a most vicious and unforgiving sport. Like the Brazilian national soccer team who loves to play “the beautiful game,” Arguello did the same for boxing. At 5-10 – and sporting a physique that was always immaculately conditioned – he towered over virtually every opponent and he knew how to exploit his albatross-like 72-inch reach to fullest effect. His scholarly jab was a weapon unto itself as it either probed an opponent’s defenses for openings or ripped wounds over countless brows. They also set up thumping body shots, scything uppercuts, neck-wrenching hooks and his signature punch, a wickedly accurate right cross.
Every punch Arguello threw was executed with an artist’s care and more often than not they produced violently aesthetic masterpieces. The first of his many creations at the elite level came in the 13th round of his second title opportunity against WBA featherweight champ Ruben Olivares on November 23, 1974 at the Fabulous Forum. Trailing on points after 12 rounds due to “Rockabye Ruben’s” startlingly effective stick-and-move tactics, Arguello dipped his brush into the palette and found the right brush strokes to produce two knockdowns and snatch the crown from Olivares’ battered head in the 13th.
Arguello successfully defended his featherweight crown against Leonel Hernandez, Rigoberto Riasco, Royal Kobayashi and Salvador Torres – all by knockout – before weight issues forced him to vacate. Following seven more victories (and six knockouts) he gunned for a second divisional belt against the formidable “Snake Man” Alfredo Escalera, who had notched 10 successful defenses in his two-and-a-half year reign as WBC super featherweight champion. Their first fight became known as “The Battle of Bayamon” because of Arguello’s pinpoint savagery and Escalera’s inspired comeback in the midst of horrific facial injuries that included an upper lip in danger of falling off. In the June 1978 issue of International Boxing, referee Arthur Mercante called the first Arguello-Escalera encounter “the most brutal and exciting championship I have ever refereed in the lighter weight divisions.” He also wrote that “Arguello’s punches with both hands were razor sharp, and each time they landed more blood appeared as he continued to bust open cuts on Alfredo’s face and inside his mouth.” It required 30 stitches to repair the damage and Escalera more than earned every penny of his $60,000 check.
It was during his reign as 130-pound champion that observers saw Arguello at his absolute best. His 27-month reign showcased all sides of Arguello’s fistic personality: A breathtakingly brutal 13-round rematch against Escalera, a 116-second blast out of Diego Alcala, a comeback over Bobby Chacon and clinical dissections of Rafael “Bazooka” Limon, Rey Tam, Ruben Castillo, Rolando Navarrete and Arturo Leon. Of those, only Leon survived the full 15 rounds. Just as he had at 126, Arguello departed the super featherweight class as an unconquered king – at least in title fights. A shocking non-title 10 round loss to Vilomar Fernandez in July 1978 — Arguello’s first in 25 fights — not only showed that Arguello had feet of stone but also scuttled a proposed superfight with the “Hands of Stone,” lightweight champion Roberto Duran.
The Fernandez loss only delayed Arguello’s march toward glory at 135.
Following three “tune-ups” against Cornelius Boza-Edwards (KO 8), Jose Luis Ramirez (a hard-fought W 10 that saw him floored for only the second time in his career) and Robert Vasquez (KO 3), Arguello dethroned cagey WBC lightweight champion Jim Watt over 15 rounds. With the win Arguello became just the sixth man in boxing history to capture crowns in three weight classes, an achievement that was still unique as of June 1981 and one that officially heralded his arrival as a ring immortal.
Arguello, now a young veteran at 29, continued to conduct master classes in boxing technique at 135. Victories over Ray Mancini (KO 14), Roberto Elizondo (KO 7), James “Bubba” Buscheme (KO 6) and Andy Ganigan (KO 5) allowed Arguello to run his championship fight winning streak to an amazing 19 contests, 17 of which ended in knockout. He was universally hailed as among the sport’s best pound-for-pound fighters long before that term became fashionable.
Because most of his fights were shown on free over-the-air American TV, the U.S. public became familiar with not just the warrior inside the ropes but also the regal yet soft-spoken man beyond them. The power of his personality was such that it could convert even the most heated of rivals into admirers. Two incidents best illustrated that capacity:
* On October 3, 1981 in Atlantic City, Arguello risked his lightweight belt for the first time against Mancini, whose quest to win the 135-pound title denied his father due to his World War II commitment captivated the nation. Thus, Arguello entered the ring in a most uncharacteristic role – villain. Though Mancini enjoyed many good moments over the first 10 rounds Arguello’s experience, patience and unrelenting accuracy led to a punishing 14th round TKO. The final blow, a searing right to the chin, came as referee Tony Perez moved in to stop the slaughter.
As remorseless as he had been in the fight’s waning moments, that’s how sympathetic he was toward Mancini in the post-fight interview.
“I love your father,” Arguello said after he shook Mancini’s hand. “That’s the most beautiful thing you have, like I have my father. I want to make you a great, great promise. I promise if I can do something for you, let me know please.” The gesture moved Mancini to the point that he wrote a tribute piece to Arguello in the October 1982 issue of Ring that concluded thusly:
“I’ve watched Arguello closely since (our fight). Everything he does is with class. He fights with class. He moves with class. He gives interviews with class. He is more of a champion than any man I’ve ever known or heard about, besides my father. Arguello is a man to be respected. By the young and old. By the rich and poor. By everybody. Too many young, impressionable sports fans idolize athletes who, quite frankly, have no right being idolized. Their attitude, both on and off the playing field, is not exemplary of what a champion or superstar should be. Arguello is an athlete deserving of being idolized.
“I watch him. Study him. Admire him. I will always be proud to say I gave Arguello one of his toughest fights. I hope we can do it again next year. Maybe then I’ll be able to say, ‘I even beat the great Arguello.’ Maybe I’ll even become the champion he is.”
Name another fighter who could make a man he conquered speak of him in such glowing terms. And imagine him doing so in the permanence of print. That was the incandescent power of Arguello’s persona.
* On July 4, 1982 WBA junior welterweight champion Aaron Pryor was fresh off his sixth round off-the-floor destruction of Akio Kameda and was in the middle of conducting a post-fight interview with NBC analyst Dr. Ferdie Pacheco. Arguello, who was at ringside, was climbing into the ring as this exchange took place:
Pacheco: Now you looked like you really got down to business and serious when you got cut. It looked like he got you mad when you got cut. Did you get right down to business right after that? It looks like you really got into it.
Pryor: Yeah, I felt like it was time to go into business then because I knew that ARGUELLO was looking at me and I want him bad. Bob Arum has already signed for the fight and I signed already. (His eyes narrowing and his face twisted into a sneer as Arguello approaches off-camera) You think you saw something today, God don’t know and he don’t know I want him. Arguello, you’re mine sucker, you’re watching me, you’re mine.
Pryor was in full fighting froth but as Arguello smiled and warmly shook his hand that hostility quickly gave way to gratitude and thinly veiled admiration.
Pryor: “I’ll pay you back for Boom Boom Mancini. Boy I’m so glad you signed it ain’t funny. You’re going to fight a man this time. I’m a man, you fought that young 19-year-old boy (referring to Mancini, who was actually 20 at the time)….”
Arguello: “God bless you. God bless you and I know you are a man and a good boxer.”
Pryor: “Thank you, you are too. You’re a great fighter.”
Arguello: “Good luck, good luck to you.”
Pryor: “I’m just like Duran, I was born with no shoes on. I was raised up with no shoes on so this fight is going to pay for it.”
Arguello: “The same thing happened to me.”
Pryor: “You’re a great champion. I don’t put you down but I’m going to go to a higher level. I’m glad you signed.”
When Pacheco realized this confrontation wasn’t going to produce the fireworks NBC surely wanted he threw it back to Marv Albert at ringside.
No one but Arguello could instantly quell the emotional hurricane that was Pryor, especially minutes after an adrenaline-fueled title defense. No matter how hard Pryor tried to pump himself up, Arguello pacified him with soothing and honest words.
But Pryor could not be contained forever. On November 12, 1982 at the Orange Bowl in Miami “The Explosive Thin Man” and “The Hawk” would cross paths in what would become an all-time classic. Arguello was out to make history by becoming the first to capture a fourth divisional crown while Pryor was fighting for his very life at the pinnacle of the sport. Many experts thought Arguello’s textbook countering ability was the antidote for Pryor’s maniacal approach but it was Pryor who dictated the terms from first bell to last. He swarmed when he wanted to swarm and boxed when he wanted to box but every so often Arguello would remind him that he was in with a bona fide legend. Arguello’s last best chance came with 1:27 left in the 13th when he delivered a pulverizing right to the point of Pryor’s chin, the kind that had resulted in 61 previous knockouts. But Pryor, fueled with ambition (and perhaps the contents of a black bottle administered to him several times between rounds) not only absorbed the bomb but danced on his toes and snapped in two of the hardest jabs of the fight thus far.
That small piece of psychological theater was a precursor to the nightmarish end that unfolded in round 14. It began when Pryor ripped off a series of combinations capped by a huge right that buckled Arguello’s legs. With Arguello reeling semi-consciously toward the ropes “The Hawk” swooped on his prey and polished him off with a 23-punch explosion that included three sickening rights that caused Arguello to slump toward the floor.
The moment referee Stanley Christodoulou waved off the contest at 1:06 of the 14th, Arguello’s aura of invincibility was irreparably shattered. A revenge 10 round decision over Vilomar Fernandez and a three round stoppage of Claude Noel did nothing to persuade anyone that Arguello would prevail in the September 1983 rematch against Pryor. Though he fought valiantly, he couldn’t overcome knockdowns in the first and fourth rounds as well as a rally-stopping point deduction for low blows. The end came in the 10th when Arguello, down for the third time and sitting with his gloves holding his knees, allowed referee Richard Steele to count him out. Unlike Roberto Duran’s “no mas” surrender in the second fight with Sugar Ray Leonard, Arguello did not quit but rather resigned. He promised before the fight that he would fight until his last drop of blood was shed but as he sat on the canvas he realized that it was no longer his time and that Pryor was simply too strong and too good for him.
There would be a pair of two-fight comebacks in 1985-86 and 1994-95, the latter of which unfolded two years after his enshrinement into the International Boxing Hall of Fame. The last hurrah was a 10 round decision loss to Scott “Pink Cat” Walker, a lanky six-foot speedster who could make anyone look bad, much less a 42-year-old icon with 90 fights spread out over more than 26 years.
In retirement Arguello kept his hand in boxing in several capacities: Judge, TV analyst, trainer, adviser and administrator. He had always been politically active, alternatively fighting for and against the Sandinistas and spending several years in self-imposed exile in the United States after the ruling government seized his assets. He eventually returned to Nicaragua and last year was elected mayor of his beloved hometown of Managua, though the decision from the electorate was hardly unanimous as he won just 51.3 percent of the vote. His private life was not the picture of serenity: He suffered through several failed marriages, fell into the abyss of substance abuse and reportedly spoke several times about taking his own life to escape his personal despair. But each time he faced a crisis he managed to lift himself from the canvas and those who knew him believed he had regained a sense of happiness and stability.
He was a fixture at the International Boxing Hall of Fame induction weekend but missed this year’s festivities for the first time in memory. Some of his friends in the industry have speculated that his death was not a suicide but rather an act of political or personal vengeance. After all, Arguello was now part of the Sandinista party that he so virulently opposed in the past. The world may never know the whole story surrounding his sudden and untimely demise.
Arguello’s death at age 57 has produced an outpouring of emotion throughout the boxing world and it is easy to see why. He was a sportsman and a statesman, a gladiator and a glad-hander and a fighter whose style was both beauty and beast. His physical body may no longer be with us but his gentle and magnificent majesty will serve as his legacy for all time.
Farewell, Alexis. The boxing world may have suffered a great loss but the world beyond has gained a most wondrous soul.
