As the International Boxing Hall of Fame begins its third decade, the balloting process has reached a crossroads. The past several years saw many strong first-ballot candidates like Roberto Duran, Lennox Lewis and Pernell Whitaker among others earn induction. Their elevations, however, had an unintended consequence: It prevented more obscure candidates from earning enough votes to receive their own plaques, or making the ballot at all.
With Duran, Lewis and Whitaker in the rear view mirror and Julio Cesar Chavez, Mike Tyson and Kostya Tszyu poised to become the Hall of Fame Class of 2011, a rare window of opportunity has been created. Because no obvious all-time greats retired for good in 2004, this year’s voting process is particularly intriguing – and wide open. It is telling that this year’s “new kids in town” aren’t exactly new at all, as two of them have been eligible for more than a decade. The other, a true-blue rookie, has the numbers to get in but few see him as a shoo-in. Therefore, this may be the year when long-ignored lighter weight monarchs like Jung Koo Chang, Myung Woo Yuh, Yoko Gushiken, Masao Ohba, Miguel Lora, Wilfredo Vazquez and Hilario Zapata get enough votes. It might also offer openings for borderline – but big name – candidates like Donald Curry and Naseem Hamed to break through. Needless to say, the plethora of possibilities will make this year’s announcement a particularly riveting one.
The three newest additions to the 45-member roster in the Modern Category are, at least in my mind, deserving of their place on the ballot. But do they merit enshrinement? As someone who has voted for the past nine years, here is one voter’s perspective on their qualifications, whether they earned the prized check mark and why.
Danny “Little Red” Lopez (1971-1992, 42-6 with 39 knockouts): At the time Lopez first retired in 1980 most observers rated him among the all-time best in the historically deep featherweight division. But for whatever reason, the soft-spoken fighter with cannons for fists slipped through the cracks of history. Until now.
His spindly 5-8 frame, his flaming red hair and humble demeanor served as a benign disguise for the monster he was inside the ropes. Not only was Lopez capable of generating fantastic volume – he threw an unofficial record 1,781 punches in 10 rounds against Genzo Kurosawa – but he also produced highlight-reel quality knockouts with his wrecking ball right cross. Many of his fights were athletic melodramas in which he would suffer early knockdowns only to arise and inflict painful retribution.
“(Getting knocked down) actually stirred me up and infuriated me,” Lopez told me for a story in Ring in the early 1990s. “I’d think, ‘who is this guy to knock me down?’ All those times I got knocked down and jumped back up, I was never really hurt or dazed. Like when I fought Ruben Olivares at the Forum. I didn’t even feel the punch that knocked me down. Sure, I looked at the films and I saw the knockdown, but I didn’t even feel it. So Olivares comes jamming in to try and knock me out and – boom – I got him because I wasn’t hurt. The thing that went through my mind was to just get up and get that knockdown back.”
Longtime manager Benny Georgino marveled at Lopez’s comeback capacity, saying in the same piece, “(the knockdowns he suffered) touched a button on him and increased his incentive to come back and knock the other guy down. I would see his feet after he got knocked down, and he would start moving them like, ‘Okay, let’s get going, I gotta get you outta here now.’ “
With his tendency to cut, his susceptibility to knockdowns and his painfully leaky defense, no one could have known he would eventually become a champion, much less a long-term one. But that’s precisely what happened after he suffered three heartbreaking losses in a four-fight stretch – including two by knockout. After dropping a decision to Octavio Gomez, “Little Red” became red hot as he put together a five-year 18 fight win streak that included the entirety of his championship reign. That ended with back-to-back knockout losses to Salvador Sanchez in 1980 and he quit the game for good when the 38-year-old was stopped in two rounds following an 11-year layoff.
Did he get my check mark: Yes, and enthusiastically so. Regular readers of my Hall of Fame articles know that I have touted Lopez’s candidacy for years and earlier this year I submitted a letter to the IBHOF’s screening committee to plead his case. To see his name on the ballot was not only personally gratifying but also an honor that was long overdue. As long as he is on the ballot, Lopez will have at least one voter in his corner and here’s hoping this will be his only appearance.
Why: One of the criteria I use when judging a candidate is long-term dominance in his era and Lopez, warts and all, managed to do just that. He registered eight defenses in his more than three-year reign and none of them went the distance. He won the championship in commanding fashion from David Kotey before 100,000 fans in a soccer stadium in Accra, Ghana, then consolidated that victory by stopping him in six rounds in the rematch. He also stopped Jose Torres, Jose DePaula, Juan Malvarez, the undefeated Roberto Castanon, Mike Ayala and Jose Caba and in each fight his opponents got in their fair share of licks before ultimately succumbing. The only non-KO defense came against Fel Clemente, against whom Lopez got a butt-induced fourth round DQ win.
His eight featherweight defenses stack up well against Hall of Famers Willie Pep (nine), Johnny Kilbane (eight), Azumah Nelson (six), Terry McGovern (six), Sandy Saddler (four) and Alexis Arguello (four) while far outshining Barry McGuigan (two), Jeff Fenech (two) and Bobby Chacon (one). He also won 1979’s Fight of the Year by Ring Magazine when he knocked out Ayala not once but twice – first in the 11th round then in the 15th after referee Carlos Padilla restarted the bout.
Like Saad Muhammad – and unlike probable future Hall of Famer Arturo Gatti – Lopez was the rare all-action fighter who managed to put together a lengthy reign. That counts with me and hopefully it will count with enough electors to put him over the top.
Santos Laciar (1976-1990, 79-10-11 with 30 knockouts): As long as Lopez has had to wait, Laciar’s was even longer – 13 years after he first became eligible. At just 5-1 with an equally short reach, the diminutive Argentine was small even for a flyweight and while he sported a squat, powerful frame he lacked consistent one-punch power. Still, he made it all work and because of that his is a story of achieving maximum potential.
Like most Argentine fighters, Laciar maintained a busy schedule as he logged 13 fights in 1977, 13 in 1978, 12 in 1979 and 10 in 1980. Not surprisingly, Laciar didn’t emerge unscathed as seven losses and five draws dotted his 50-fight pre-championship record. Some of the more notable blemishes came against future champion Gustavo Ballas (L 10) and Charlie Magri (L 10) and the 29-0-2 Ruben Soria. Two other early defeats to Raul Eduardo Perez were troubling because Perez’s record was 23-23-11 and 25-23-12 at the time he met Laciar.
Still, Laciar eventually became the mandatory challenger to WBA flyweight champion Peter Mathebula and Laciar met South Africa’s first black champion in March 1981 in Soweto. Laciar broke open a relatively even fight with a power surge in the fifth that culminated in a seventh round knockout. That reign, however, came to a shocking – and, to some, scandalous – end when questionable judging (and alleged meddling by WBA officials) allowed Luis Ibarra to capture the crown before a stunned crowd at historic Luna Park in Buenos Aires.
Despite going 3-0-3 in his next six fights Laciar got another chance, this time from Juan Herrera, who stopped Ibarra in 11 to win the crown and had notched a seventh round KO over veteran Betulio Gonzalez. The pair battled evenly through 12 rounds but a shoulder injury enabled Laciar to regain his crown. This time, it wouldn’t be so easy to pry away the belt and the Argentine would enjoy one of the best flyweight reigns of the decade.
Over the next three years Laciar rolled up nine successful defenses before voluntarily giving up the belt and moving up to 115. “Falucho” failed in his first attempt by drawing with the skillful Gilberto Roman but succeeded in the rematch when cuts forced Roman to surrender the belt in the 11th. Unfortunately for Laciar, his reign at super flyweight lasted less than three months as the long, lean and speedy Sugar Baby Rojas scored a lopsided decision victory. Laciar made one attempt to recapture the belt but Roman took a 2-1 edge with a dominant decision.
Did he get my check mark: Absolutely. I have always had a soft spot for the little guys because I followed them so closely during the Miguel Canto era of the 1970s through Joe Koizumi’s highly descriptive prose in Ring Magazine. Thus, I tend to give them the benefit of the doubt as long as the record stands up to scrutiny.
Why: What won my vote was what Laciar did during his second WBA flyweight championship reign. First, he dethroned Herrera in a tough fight, then turned the trick again via split decision in the rematch. Second, he defeated former champions in Betulio Gonzalez (KO 7), Prudencio Cardona (KO 10) and the excellent Hilario Zapata (W 15). Third, he took down future champions (Hi Sup Shin) and other qualified challengers (Antoine Montero, Shuichi Hozumi, Stephen Muchoki and the undefeated deaf-mute Ramon Nery) while also sprinkling in six victories in non-title fights. Activity and accomplishment are definite plusses with me. Additionally, Laciar nearly doubled his knockout percentage in championship fights – when it counts most and against the best competition – as he logged a 12-3-1 (8 KO) record (.500) in title bouts as opposed to his .262 percentage in all other fights.
However, his struggles at 115 didn’t escape notice. As previously stated he failed to make a successful defense once he won the title in his second attempt and he was somewhat fortunate to go 1-1-1 with Roman (who I think should be added to next year’s ballot). So I wouldn’t be overly surprised if other voters pass him over this year.
Sven Ottke (1997-2004, 34-0-0 with six knockouts): This year’s only nominee with less than 10 years’ retirement personified his nickname of “The Phantom.” He was a purist’s delight as he utilized cat-quick hands and nimble feet to comprehensively out-box most opponents and pile up lopsided decisions. It is highly unusual for a fighter who enjoyed such a lengthy amateur career to translate that success to the pros – especially when he makes the transition at age 29 and does so without the safety net of immense punching power. Along with Nicolino Loche, Willie Pep, Maxie Rosenbloom and Miguel Canto, Ottke ranks among the most successful feather-fisted fighters of all time.
Put on the fast track due to his age, Ottke secured a crack at IBF super middleweight champion Charles Brewer in just his 13th fight. Though many observers believed the powerful Brewer did enough to retain his crown Ottke captured a split decision to launch what would become one of boxing history’s most prolific reigns.
Did he get my check mark: Yes, but he just made the cut. And given the feedback I’ve heard already I’m in the minority.
Why: On paper, Ottke should be a shoo-in. First, his championship arc encompassed six-and-a-half years and 21 defenses, a record for super middleweights that Joe Calzaghe later equaled. Second, he is one of a handful of champions who retired without a single loss or draw. Third, 22 of his 34 fights were for major championships – a mind-boggling 65 percent – and not only did he add the WBA strap by beating Byron Mitchell, he notched four defenses of the unified belts.
With that record of accomplishment, why did I hesitate before making the commitment? For one thing, Ottke’s entire reign overlapped Calzaghe’s and for whatever reason they never attempted to unify the belts. A victory over “Super Joe” would have cemented Ottke’s Hall of Fame credentials, especially since Calzaghe was taller, more powerful, nearly as nimble and capable of maintaining a frenetic work rate – and a southpaw to boot. All those factors would have made Ottke a significant underdog, though the margin would have been smaller had the fight taken place in Germany.
The last seven words of the previous sentence epitomize why Ottke may never be enshrined despite his superlative numbers. Ottke fought outside Germany just once – an eight round win over Roman Babaev in Vienna, Austria in his seventh pro fight – and many believe he received more than friendly judging along the way. Besides his two fights with Brewer, many observers think he would have lost to Mads Larsen and Robin Reid on neutral ground. Even if he had, Ottke by then had already piled up significant enough numbers to make a persuasive argument, so that argument is somewhat mitigated.
Ultimately, three factors solidified my decision in Ottke’s favor. One, the combination of his amateur career and his pro exploits can’t be totally ignored. After all, this is the International Boxing Hall of Fame, not the International Professional Boxing Hall of Fame. As an amateur, Ottke compiled a 256-47-5 record that included wins over Antonio Tarver, Chris Byrd, Michael Moorer, Zsolt Erdei and Juan Carlos Gomez as well as Olympic appearances in 1988, 1992 and 1996. Second, he did score credible wins over Mitchell, Glen Johnson, Thomas Tate, Armand Krajnc, James Butler and Anthony Mundine.
The Mundine fight provided the final piece of evidence. Trailing on points entering the 10th round, the light-hitting Ottke somehow achieved the one-punch KO he needed to save his belt. Like Pernell Whitaker against Diosbelys Hurtado, Ottke showed a champion’s mettle by digging deep and producing the most unlikely result possible against an ambitious and inspired opponent. Intangibles play just as big a part in a champion’s legacy as his record does and because Ottke delivered during a crisis he enhanced his case for enshrinement.
Ottke, a super middleweight, was by far the heaviest fighter for whom I voted this year. Besides the three listed above, I voted for Chang, Gushiken, Hamed, Lora, Vazquez, Yuh and Zapata. I wouldn’t be surprised if Curry sneaked in this year due to his high name recognition – and his potential drawing power for the weekend – but I think his elevation would be an error on the voters’ part because his prime was so brief and his failures so glaring. Perhaps Hamed or sentimental favorite Lloyd Marshall might receive more benevolent fates.
In conclusion, I hope that my fellow voters will not squander this chance to correct past oversights and allow a few more of boxing’s Mighty Mites to receive what their long records of success so richly deserve. Their names on the marquee might not help the weekend’s bottom line, but it will fulfill the IBHOF’s mission of honoring outstanding achievement.
