Fight Films
When I was about 11 or 12, newly absorbed with boxing and hungry to learn anything I could about the sport and its history, I discovered Ring Classics, a mail-order company (owned, I believe, by Everlast) that sold 8-mm films of historic fights. The first one I bought was Dempsey-Willard. I must have screened it (or “sheeted it,” given that I used an old white bed sheet tacked up on my bedroom wall in place of a screen) a thousand times. As I sat there in the darkness, the scorching heat of Toledo on July 4, 1919 was palpable, even in the washed-out black and white footage (especially when my cheap-ass Bell&Howell projector would jam and a frame would singe and bubble and, literally, go up in smoke before I could rethread it properly), and Dempsey’s punches seemed to thud against Willard’s vast flank, even though there was no soundtrack. It was a revelation to realize that I could actually see a fight that I had already read so much about. And one that had taken place 40 years before I was born.
I started saving up and ordering new films whenever I could, poring over the Ring Classics “catalogue” — basically a printed list of the available fights — going down to the post office to buy a money order (the plodding, yet fulfilling, mechanics of those pre-Internet days!) and then waiting (weeks) for the arrival of the familiar flat, yellow box (each one, no matter the fight it contained, bearing a black and white photo of Rocky Marciano clubbing Roland LaStarza). Dempsey-Carpentier, Dempsey-Willard, Louis-Schmeling, Moore-Durelle, Robinson-Turpin, Graziano-Zale, and on and on. They filled up my shelves and they filled up my head. Even as I was watching the current Ali against the likes of Bob Foster and Joe Bugner on Saturday afternoon TV, I was watching and rewatching the old Ali against Liston and Cooper and Cleveland Williams in the whirring darkness of my room every night. (So taken was I with the kinetic brilliance of Ali’s knockout of Williams that I wrote an essay for my no-doubt mystified English teacher entitled “The Greatest and the Big Cat.”)
I had a friend, Carl, who was also into boxing. He was a year older than me and we’d met one spring Saturday when I was in seventh grade. And when I say met, I mean stripped to the waist and wearing eight-ounce gloves — pitted by kids from our respective neighborhoods in a three-round “boxing match” in his front yard. (Nowadays, of course, that would never happen: a) kids don’t care about boxing b) nobody leaves their Xbox long enough to go outside and c) even if they did, some asshole adult would put a stop to such barbaric behavior.) Carl, not only older, but bigger and stronger, if just as white and untutored, poleaxed me with a right hand early in the first round. I’d never been knocked down before and it seemed a colossal embarrassment, a social gaffe, really, in front of all those other kids. I got up and the bout went the distance, but it was clear who’d won, and it was a long walk back to my block.
Thankfully, no films exist of that ring classic, but Carl and I would eventually become fast friends, with boxing — and boxing films— a big part of our bond. We’d coordinate our film purchases and share the viewings and together we developed a substantial historical archive. Partly because of those fight films, Carl started to make his own movies, and he went on to study film in college. He’s a computer guy and a professional musician now, living in the Bay area and, I am happy to say (and this is the point of this whole rambling post), is still very much into fight films. Everyone here should check out his Youtube site (http://www.youtube.com/profile_videos?user=datman2000&p=r). It is a treasure trove of boxing on video, from Sam Langford vs. Jim Flynn to Chuvalo-Quarry to Liston-Westphal. Browsing through Carl’s stuff is a far cry from those old days beside the projector, but the thrill and the satisfaction is the same.
And, really, is there any sport in which the viewing of historic action is as rewarding — as essential, really — as it is in boxing?
posted by Richard O'Brien @ 5:39 PM
9 comments
9 Comments:
Rich, Datman 2000 used to be Rotoscope. I check his site out once or twice a week. He's used some of the content in a few of my articles to accompany some of his videos.
I'm betting IF you got a rematch today, the result would be reversed. He says on his site that he's a former amateur welterweight. Do you know anything about that, like how many fights he had and where did he fight out of?
I love that image of getting knocked down as feeling like "a social gaffe." I know exactly what you mean. You could have blood coming out of every orifice but the main thing is you feel like you came out of the bathroom at a wedding with a long piece of toilet paper trailing off the sole of your shoe and didn't realize it until everybody started laughing at you while you were in the midst of what you imagined to be a dignified foxtrot with the sister of the bride.
I just went into his trove to watch what he has of Moore-Durelle I, apropos of the discussion we've been having a couple of items down. It wasn't the whole fight, but it was a pleasing survey of its beginning and end. I really do like watching whole fights I've seen before, pretty much exactly the way you'd watch an old movie. It'll come as no surprise to this group that I occasionally take out Holmes-Mercer and watch it, just to see a lesson properly given and taken.
I take out Frazier-Ali I to see the lesson given by Frazier on how to Fight a mover/boxer IE: Ali & Holmes. IF I trained a fighter who was a swarmer, I'd make him watch it over and over. IF I trained David Tua, I'd tie him to a chair and make him watch it so much, that like me, he'd know the round by watching any 20-30 second clip of it. I think watching film/tapes of an opponent is great preperation on how to fight him and exploit his weakness, and nullify his strengths.
As far as watching fights for enjoyment and studying a fighter for historical purposes, I prefer watching the entire bout with the live call IF possible. I think watching it without audio, takes away from getting a true feel for the Fight.
I definitely agree that nothing else in sports holds up like old fights. The ratings must bear that out since there is so much boxing on ESPN Classic, but so little elsewhere on their related networks.
Who would want to rewatch over and over again an old World Series or Super Bowl, especially knowing the final scores? Much more of the drama in those sports is in the build-up to the outcome itself. After the game is over, the drama evaporates. There are some reruns of those sports, but they garner no buzz.
In boxing, the drama is to a large degree in the danger of the fight itself. You can know exactly what happened and when, but the tension remains as you watch it unfold time and again. The only sports close to this are other combat sports, as old mma fights seem to have a similar appeal to fans of that sport, although not yet, at least, to the degree they do in boxing.
We also watch boxing to see who is the best and toughest fighter in the world. The greats of one era are often measured against greats from other eras. We want and need to see these all-time great fights and fighters repeatedly to satisfy our need to see fights. That transcends time, especially in a sport with no definable season.
Styles may have changed over the years, but it is still boxing. By comparison, sports like baseball and especially basketball and football from even a few decades ago look barely recognizable today. The ring ropes, trunks, accents, scoring, etc. have also evolved, but a left hook is still a left hook.
The downside of all this is that while boxing respects its history more than just about any other sport, it also is probably the most backwards looking and resistant to change. Thus, so many of the great fights appear on YouTube, while the rights holders of these videos shed tears for the days when their black-and-white televisions received three channels, and they got their boxing news in their morning and afternoon daily newspapers.
Eddie,I wish boxing were more resistant to change, not less. Almost every significant change the sport had implimented over the past thirty years-from the abolition of fifteen rounders to ring walks-has been to its detriment. One of the many reasons we watch old fight films (I think) is to marvel at how great the fighters of earlier eras were as compared to today's guys. That said, there's been a healthy recent upsurge in fight quality across the board, excluding the heavyweights.
I think one small but telling reason I like watching old fights, too, is because the announcers are so unobtrusive. The punching and corners and crowd aren't miked as they are today, so it's not like you can hear everything that's going on (the ideal would be the precision miking we've got today, but minus the announcers), but with the announcer staying out of the way you can at least watch a fight with ambient sound and without having to mentally shove aside the wall-to-wall yammering of somebody who doesn't know what he's talking about. And, too, I appreciate the quality of understatement in old fight calls. The announcer will say, at the beginning of a round, "Champ's looking a little tired," then shut up for thirty seconds, then say, "A flurry from the challenger," then shut up for a minute, then say with deadpan matter-of-factness, "And it's over. A knockout for the young challenger." We didn't need to hear any of that, but compared to what we hear now it's pleasantly ultra minimalist.
I agree with, Carlo. The way the fights are miked today, minus the blow-by-blow guy never shutting up, :IE Bob Sheridan. The thing I Loved about Don Dunphy was, he assumed you knew what you were watching and didn't become the focus during the Fight. Sadly, he'd never make it today, just for that reason.
Dunphy, even then, was a class apart. It was such a pleasure every Saturday night to know that you'd be in his company for ninety minutes or so. He not only really knew what he was watching, he was also quiet, self-effacing, and wryly funny. And he called Ali "Ali" right from the start.
Charles, while I can’t argue with reducing title fights to 12 rounds, I generally agree with what you said. I was mainly referring to the media aspects, where the sport’s inept hierarchy lives in more fear of things digital than Ibragimov and Klitschko did of each other. Web sites, blogs, podcasts, and the like make it much harder to find the guy to give the envelope.
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