This week I’m looking at fighters who quit. Is it ever acceptable? When and why?
When is it okay for a boxer to quit during the course of a fight? Isn’t it true that all forms of quitting aren’t equal? I’m not writing about fighters who “threw” fights for one reason or another, so I won’t go on my rant about what it looked like Bruce Seldon did against Mike Tyson. I’m also going to avoid discussing what I believe is the worst form of quitting; trying to take the easy way out of a fight you could have legitimately won. I’m looking at you Hector Camacho Jr., Hasim Rahman, and Anges Adjaho. Those three aren’t worth the web space to debate whether they could or could not have continued through their “injuries”. I say they could have, but feel free to decide for yourselves by looking up their fights against Jesse Leija, James Toney, and Antonio DeMarco respectively. This week, I’m writing about two categories of quitting; the first more “acceptable” than the second. I’ll also give examples for each category.
I just don’t have it tonight, and my opponent is going to hurt me bad, if I continue on.
This is a tricky category, because often times, the trainer makes the decision to stop such a fight. But I submit that the fighter makes the final call with his verbal and non-verbal reaction to the trainer’s recommendation. For example, think about when Frazier quit against Ali in the “Thrilla in Manila” and Ali later quit against Holmes in 1980. I understand that Eddie Futch and Angelo Dundee made those decisions. However, neither fighter put up much of a fuss at the time of the stoppage. Of course, I’m not blaming either fighter for respecting the wishes of their corner, but Ali’s quitting makes a tad more sense to me than Frazier’s.
Frazier v. Ali III
Frazier was involved in one of the most brutal fights in the history of boxing during his last war with Ali. There were 14 rounds of back and forth action and both fighters took a beating. However, in the 14th round, Ali really started to tee off on Frazier towards the end of the round. Joe’s eyes were closing shut, and Ali was hitting him almost at will. It was still a very close fight at that point and Ali no doubt felt the wear of a fight he would later call “the closest thing to death”. After the 14th round, Eddie Futch told Joe that he was stopping the fight. Futch was concerned about the punches Frazier was taking and the future of his eyesight.
Though Frazier has said some nasty things about Futch’s decision over the years, he didn’t put up much of a fuss at the time of the stoppage. Maybe he just knew it wasn’t his night. Still, considering how Ali collapsed in his corner after Frazier failed to answer the bell, we always must wonder how that last round would have turned out had Frazier come out of his corner. Ali has stated that Joe quit right before he could have done the same. Can you imagine how the legacies of each fighter could have been different had Frazier forced Ali to quit? I doubt Ali would have really called it a night, but who knows? That was a hellish fight.
Ali v. Holmes
On October 2, 1980, Muhammad Ali received a brutal beating at the hands of Larry Holmes. Even though Holmes was pulling his punches throughout the fight, Ali was battered over his body and face repeatedly. Ali was already showing signs of Parkinson’s disease before this fight. Also, he had very little energy from undertaking an unnecessary medication program after being mis-diagnosed with having thyroid problems. Ali could have died in the ring that night, and was never at any point competitive. After the 10th round, Angelo Dundee refused to let Ali come out for the 11th round. Ali didn’t dispute Dundee’s decision. He knew it wasn’t his night.
A few of the more recent examples that I can think of are unique because of the ethnic heritage of the fighters: Oscar De La Hoya, Antonio DeMarco, and Jose Luis Castillo.
De La Hoya v. Pacquiao
Like many, I thought that this would be a gross mismatch going into the fight. It was a mismatch alright, but not for the reasons we expected. This beat-down was similar to the one Holmes gave Ali, minus Ali’s physical and neurological problems. Pacquiao was the younger, hungrier, faster fighter, on his way to establishing one hell of a legacy. Most of us knew De La Hoya was on the downside of his career, but we didn’t expect to him to be totally “shot” like he looked against Pacman. Oscar certainly didn’t help his cause by refusing to cut weight and replenish for the 147 lb limit. He came in at a ridiculous 145 lbs, and on fight night, Pacquiao actually outweighed him by a couple of pounds.
After just a few rounds, we could tell that Oscar was absolutely unable to handle Manny’s speed. Oscar was also unable to pull the trigger to throw some blows of his own. In the middle rounds, it looked inevitable that Oscar was going to bet knocked out at any point. After receiving a great deal of punishment and looking pathetic in the 7th and 8th rounds, Nacho Beristain talked Oscar into retiring on his stool before the 9th round. Oscar quit, there’s no doubt about it, but he knew he couldn’t win.
DeMarco v. Valero
Antonio DeMarco quit against Edwin Valero a little over a month ago in his home country. He was the champion, but gave up his belt while sitting on his stool after the 7th round. Valero was no doubt getting the best of DeMarco at that point of the fight, and a knockout looked inevitable, but DeMarco was the champion for god’s sake. Valero also had an ugly cut on his forehead that could have emboldened DeMarco to fire away at it from a distance, and try to stick and move.
It wasn’t meant to be. I can’t get inside DeMarco’s head and body, so I don’t know what it felt like to deal with Valero’s constant pressure. How ever it felt, DeMarco didn’t like it. He didn’t think that he had a chance to win the fight, or perhaps, thought he could have gotten himself seriously hurt.
Castillo v. Gomez
Jose Luis Castillo is a borderline Hall-of-Famer, and was one of the top lightweights in the world during the first half of last decade. In 2005, he had a fight with Diego Corrales that has been called my many–me included–as the best fight of all-time. Since that fight, Castillo has battled weight problems and apathy. That fight likely ended his career as a relevant contender.
A couple of weeks ago, he had a big opportunity on the undercard of Pacquiao/Clottey to fight an anticipated war against Alfonso Gomez. Instead, Castillo had absolutely nothing in the ring, boxed like a mummy, and quit on his stool after the fifth round. After the fight, Castillo immediately announced his retirement and stated that he simply didn’t have it anymore. He’s right, and hopefully he’ll never step in the ring again. Gomez is barely a top 20 level welterweight, and he simply dominated Castillo. Castillo, like many others quit on his stool.
The quitting done by De La Hoya, DeMarco, and Castillo has an interesting commonality in that they’re all of Mexican descent. It’s a cliche, a stereotype, but perhaps true, that Mexican fans take great pride in the warrior-like, fighting spirit of their Mexican fighters. The fact that these three men had to call it a night, in the face of that added pressure, helps us understand the physical and psychological damage inflicted, when they just didn’t have it on a particular night.
Fighters have friends and families who depend on them. I don’t think there is much shame in quitting, if you think you’re at risk of serious bodily damage, against an opponent you’re not competitive against. It’s just a sport, and there are more important things in life.
I’m mentally off my game, don’t think I can win, and I just don’t feel like fighting this guy anymore.
This is a tough category, because it forces me to enter the mind of the fighter, and disregard the alternate excuses given. While watching a fight, the body language and actions of a fighter tell the whole story.
Leonard v. Duran II
That’s right, “no-mas-gate”. I know, I know, Duran may have actually never said “no mas”, but this incident has a name, and I’m sticking with it. Plus, no matter what he said, how, or in what language, we all know Duran quit.
In their first fight, Duran upset Leonard when Ray was looking like the second coming of the original “Sugar”-Robinson. It was a hard fought fight, and looked upon by some as a bit of an upset. Leonard didn’t use a lot of movement during that first encounter, and allowed himself to give away points with his back on the ropes. However, in the rematch on November 25, 1980, at the Superdome in New Orleans, LA, Leonard took advantage of more of his natural gifts. He fought in flurries, used his feet, and basically out-boxed Duran.
Leonard also engaged in some showboating by sticking his head out, making faces, and winding up for the “bolo” punch. Duran grew increasingly frustrated as he had problems catching Leonard and dealing with his hand-speed. In the 8th round, Duran simply turned his back to Leonard, made a gesture referencing Leonard’s showboating, and quit.
Over the years, Duran has explained that he quit the fight due to severe stomach cramping. However, sources in his corner have contended that he was tired of dealing with Ray’s antics, and referred to him as a clown. Here is what we know: Leonard was getting the best of Duran and clowning him, Duran got frustrated, and Duran quit.
Tyson v. Holyfield II
I can’t write much about this fight that hasn’t already been written. Tyson groupies will argue till they’re blue in the face that Tyson was just fed up with Evander Holyfied head-butting him. I’ve seen the fight over a dozen times, and all of the butts looked incidental to me. It was like the two fighters just had bad chemistry in the ring that night while in-fighting. I know Evander has always had a reputation for being a sneaky cheater, but on this night, I didn’t see any intentional butts. It doesn’t really matter anyway.
There was no excuse for Tyson going all “Uruguayan rugby team” on Holyfield’s ears. The way I see it, Tyson was a mentally weak bully who was used to getting his way in the ring by bullying fighters and intimidating them. He was also accustomed to his punches making the opponent afraid to engage him aggressively. Holyfield was the wrong opponent for Tyson’s fragile mind-set. Holyfield wasn’t afraid of anybody.
During their first fight, Tyson was unable to hurt Holyfied or intimidate him. Holyfield was relentless, kept coming, and eventually knocked Tyson out in the 11th round. In the rematch, I didn’t expect much different, but Tyson didn’t want to turn down the big payday, and was likely hoping to land something lucky to get Holyfied out of there early. Evander being Evander, knew he had Tyson’s number, and was ready to go to war with him.
In the 2nd round, we could see the frustration mounting on Tyson’s face. After his right eye was cut from a butt, he was completely flustered, and continuously looked to the referee for help. Evander was simply pushing Tyson around easily and punking him out-imposing his will.
In the 3rd round Tyson found a way to get himself out of the fight. In a sign of things to come, he left the corner without his mouthpiece before Mills Lane and the corner-men realized it in time. Then, Tyson fought one of the better 2 minutes and 20 seconds of the last half of his career. He was aggressive, threw power punches, and landed some combinations on Holyfield. However, Holyfied kept coming. Then Tyson turned into a mental midget and bit Holyfield’s freaking ear. After having a point deducted, and warned of disqualification, Tyson disregarded his second chance, and bit Evander’s other ear. He purposefully got himself disqualified in a fight against a better fighter, who he didn’t have the mental makeup or will to try to beat. He quit.
I know, who am I to sit behind the safety of a laptop while sitting on a couch evaluating the quality of certain fighters’ bravery? I’m just a boxing fan. Last week I wrote of Joshua Clottey not “trying” against Pacquiao, and stated “not trying is just about the worst thing you can say about an athlete”. Quitting is the most extreme form of not trying. But I think we can all agree that sometimes quitting is acceptable. Those are the times in which an over-matched fighter’s safety and perhaps life is seriously at stake.
However, when you milk an injury to get out of fighting to the finish, like I accused Camacho Jr., Rahman, and Adjaho of doing, I think it’s pathetic. When you’re like Duran and Tyson and don’t have the mental toughness to finish the fight, you deserve scrutiny. Quitting is often hard to understand and a tough accusation to make. But as you can see, all forms of quitting aren’t equal.
