Top 100 Favorite Boxing Matches: #30-21
This is the eighth of my ten part series, covering my overviews of the best boxing has to offer. I said in the previous section that splitting hairs is just par for the course here. Nothing has changed. From here, anything could be in the top ten. We are at the peak of the mountain; these are the greatest of all fights; and there are only monsters that remain.
30 - Jeff Fenech vs Marcos Villasana (April 8, 1989)
When constructing this list, I had a rule that each entry would be competitive to an extent. Obviously, comebacks push some envelope of that, but the idea was to emphasize fight quality. This means bouts that were sensational performances to the degree of one-sidedness were removed. While Muhammad Ali vs George Foreman is a legendary event, watching it closer proves that Foreman never truly was allowed into the contest - that Ali controlled him from the opening seconds. While this is an all-time favorite display of mine, I could not add it to this project by virtue of my own rules.
But then how does Jeff Fenech’s victory over Marcos Villasana, one that ends with scorecards where the former wins arguably every round, fits within that criterion. Simply put, Fenech vs Villasana is the best one-sided fight of all time - one where that descriptor or the scorecards doesn’t tell the whole story. Fenech, a whirlwind whose swarming offense was among the best in history, takes to a patented overwhelming effort that would have broken lesser men - and had. Yet, Marcos Villasana may well have been the most immovable object in boxing history; to hurt Villasana was an exercise in futility, to tire him out wasn’t going to happen either. Fenech simply looks astounding as he ever could, crafting ways to enter the inside range, blasting Villasana with barrages that never ended, and shoving him all over the ring. Villasana never even showed a sign of folding, instead firing back salvos of his own, digging lever punches - low ones intentionally only earned the Aussie’s ire and officiating warnings - and channeling legendary counterpuncher Jose Medel with some of his savviness off the ropes. He was never going to match the champion’s volume, but he was still landing leather of his own - and only laughed as Fenech pummeled him with murderous intention in a mesmerizing sixth.
In front of an uproarious crowd led on by unhinged commentary, it was every bit a spectacle for everyone as both men were starting to spit red from their mouths by the eighth. The damage caused Fenech to play the boxer at points, but he went right back to work the moment the Mexican was on the verge of momentum. Unfortunately, Villasana made his breakthrough in the tenth, visibly stunning Fenech enough to cause his corner significant worry - it would be the only round he probably won. He pressed Fenech, coaxing him on, being met back by the champion’s classic transitions to the final bell. It was then revealed that Fenech had more wounds than he even showed: both of his hands had been broken in the final third of the fight. It was only when the scorecards were read - a result in zero doubt - that Fenech showed his own mortality in a battle where he was scarcely stopped.
29 - Chartchai Chionoi vs Efren Torres I (January 28, 1968)
Chartchai Chionoi was no technical savant, yet he was a man willing to fight to the death to win. Chionoi threw his punches with wild abandon; however, he surprised his man with his accuracy. Chionoi wasn’t bound for easy fights as the WBC flyweight champion and an equally determined challenger in Efren Torres led to as savage a title fight as you’ll ever see - and easily a candidate for the most horrifically violent fight in this whole project. Chionoi surprised Torres with a fast start, a short right sent the Mexican down. By the end of the round, a cut was over one of Mexican’s eyes. Spurred on, Torres took to the inside, kicking off the brawl in third, and proceeded to have Chionoi in trouble with his shorter, cleaner punches throughout the fight. Chionoi was nearly sent to one leg in the fourth and was flying into the ropes in the seventh - both leading to a survival period from the Mexican’s unbridled fury and a subsequent comeback as both threw with ill intent enough to prevent any prolonged dominance. This didn’t stop Torres from trying to take over, as he spent the eleventh beating Chionoi down, but the occasional return of the Thai’s power periodically made him back off. With his swollen shut, Chionoi needed something big and, off of a jab, he found his spot - two hooks had Torres hurt. The challenger survived the round, but the fight would end in the following round - Torres’ cut, existent since the second, had become so severe that officiators waved it off with zero hesitation. Perhaps it was an anticlimactic conclusion, yet I’d argue it’s a fitting one that this one’s brutality began and ended in blood.
28 - Leigh Wood vs Michael Conlan (March 12, 2022)
Olympic bronze medalist Michael Conlan entered his title fight against the gritted, experienced Leigh Wood in a matchup that was typical of the usual clash of styles: Conlan was expected to play the margins of the outside, drawing fire and playing with rhythm, while Wood would try to wear his man down the course for a stoppage. Naturally, this is how the fight would look, except no one can really account for the twists that happen. The first of many was that Conlan’s feints were so effective that he sent the defending champion crashing to the canvas in the closing seconds of the opening round. By all accounts, Wood may not have survived had that knockdown happened anywhere else, but he was still struggling for air. Conlan attempted to suffocate him in the second, putting a stumbling Wood on skates again. Wood made it through again, but the mountain he had to climb was seemingly greater than he imagined. Conlan wasn’t just having success because he was hurting him or faster than him, he was winning every phase the fight was taking place in. His jab was bossing the range between them, he was actively punishing Wood’s footwork, and, even if Wood got close, he was smothered or, even worse, battered to the ribs with venom. The only things Wood had success with was his right cross to the body and successfully getting the Irishman to the ropes, only to find Conlan difficult to hit even when pinned. Beaten or close-to-it on all fronts, Wood did all he could to at least make Conlan have to work for a victory - by the end of the seventh, even in a losing effort still, it was at least a firefight where he now had a chance. The last fourth of the fight would certainly be anything but tame, but Wood was fighting like he knew it was all he could give - while Conlan, between his agonizing blows that would have folded a less-determined man than Wood, was finally giving ground. The tenth and eleventh would be particularly ferocious, as the Brit was coming on strong, roasting Conlan’s own midsection with similar spite, emerging from the fire of exchanges with more to give. As the eleventh concluded, a fall by Conlan was controversially ruled a knockdown. Whether it was or wasn’t, maybe it was simply reaffirmation for Leigh Wood that in three minutes, he had only one last chance to go home with his title again. He went for it, again pinning Conlan up to the ropes, corking another right hand. But this time, he had made his read: using his jab first, he prompted Conlan to dip his head into a set position and launched the right. It wasn’t a seemingly empathetic finishing blow, but Conlan’s reaction said it all: it was a perfect one. Conlan, after standing atop the mountain peak the whole fight above Wood, was finally toppled as he fell back through the ropes, thankfully in health once the event was over - but the night was all for Leigh Wood, who had pulled off one of the most incredible comebacks the world would ever see.
27 - Muhammad Ali vs Joe Frazier III (October 1, 1975)
Muhammad Ali’s celebrity, cultural status is without question. His in-ring ability? ‘The Greatest’ was not simply some display of bravado, Ali was a man to prove his words. It was impossible to count such a man out and his dismantling of George Foreman firmly reinforced the absurdity of doing so to begin with. He had only lost to two men - said Ken Norton and Joe Frazier could barely tough Foreman; Ali did it whenever he wanted to that conqueror - and what could possibly be said about that? Still, Ali was a competitor, and when he found himself staring at the man who had beaten him years prior, Frazier, yet again, it was his chance to solidify his claim to an era. Ali wasn’t the flashy marvel he used to be - he couldn’t be - so his new game was built around his experience and craft to compensate for less mobility. Yet, he was likely better off than Frazier, whose career had been an adrenaline and violence to a degree that his body was more shopworn than most boxers could do - and for a swarmer, it was not a positive to lose your speed. Yet, against Ali, a rival whose relationship with Frazier was embittered in-and-out of the ring, Frazier was smiling from the start like he knew something we all didn’t - and sure enough, he took Ali into their own, personal hell in the scorching heat of Manilla.
There was no dancing in the first, both were in the firing range of a two-way squad. It was Frazier who took the first bullet, staggering, only to step back in. Ali posted with his lead to blind Frazier, following with venomous blows - he could sting still - or draw him into counters. Frazier lacked his patented closing speed, but he came prepared. Suddenly, Eddie Futch’s presence ringside had some meaning - Ken Norton’s cross arm guard and jabbing could be seen in Frazier’s battering ram. The physical declines were one thing, but these were still the same men they always were - capable of matching another’s will. Frazier was taking the worst of it, but the relentlessness was paying off as the ghostly grin of ‘Smokin Joe’ was getting wider. Ali was one to concede getting to the ropes to clinch, but the same tactics that undid Foreman were simply nothing to the challenger, and Ali started taking the beating his rope-a-dope was supposed to stop - as Frazier focused his efforts on the body. This opened up the thunderous left hooks in the sixth as the chase began, but then Ali realized he could at least stun his rival just enough for breathing room in a horrific eighth. The spots of respite were temporary, Frazier continued his siege, while Ali relied on every moment he could to land the most significant blows of the attritive war.
It goes without saying that this was as punishing it could get, that only Ali and Frazier could endure, even as older men, among the heavyweights of that generation. It was a battle that was as personal as it was cathartic. The exhaustion inevitably came in the final third, then the inevitable, decisive factor: damage. Ali poured his reserves out in the thirteenth and fourteenth, and only heart kept Frazier up. Eddie Futch stopped the contest himself, perhaps recognizing the instrumental danger of the deathmatch that had ensued - and the discourses of what could have been with only three minutes left remain only conjecture.
But one thing can be certain, ‘The Thrilla in Manilla’ remains more than just a boxing match or a legacy match. I’m not the person to fully encapsulate that picture for others, yet I think it goes without saying that it’s one of the greatest contests boxing has ever seen, period. It’s not quite the peak of the mountain for me, though it certainly is close.
26 - Roberto Duran vs Ray Leonard I (June 20, 1980)
The eponymous ‘Brawl in Montreal’ was the definition of a superfight for the ages. In one corner, media darling and Olympic champion turned professional great, Sugar Ray Leonard, was looking to defend his grasp on the welterweight throne like any of the divisional historics had. It was in the other corner, the former lightweight champion, one Roberto Duran, had the look of a man possessed. It was no coincidence that Duran’s focus was born of confidence - he was already an all-timer, one of the greatest of his generation. And now? He was looking to transcend against an unbeaten phenom of a champion - and he matched the same champion’s trunks to make his stance clear. Leonard could do it all. He could dance like his idols, he threw with an unmatched mean streak that betrayed the public perception of who he was, and he was technician enough to cleanly outscore Wilfred Benitez. It took less than a round for Duran to show the younger man how difficult a night he was in for, as he cut down on Leonard’s movement. Leonard, no stranger to exchanges - they were his most comfortable zone - found himself locked into needing to fight on his turf. Except it wasn’t, as a devastating hook in the second sent a ripple of shock in Leonard’s composure. Now, it was on the inside, against the ropes, where Duran came alive, painting a masterpiece of infighting with Leonard’s ribsection as a canvas. Whatever sort of fight Leonard wanted to wage was not going to be accessible; Duran was enforcing what he wanted and beating Leonard in all phases. The feints played havoc on his expectations, his body was getting torn up, and he was hurt repeatedly. But Leonard was never one to concede an easy defeat; he fought back, giving his absolute finest to make for a competitive inside battle and wicked exchanges on the outside. His left hook drew laughter from the challenger while the uppercut earned him some respect. It simply wasn’t enough to make for more than even rounds most of the time - Duran’s offense and defense melded in ways that few could ever have overcame.
Just to make his supremacy apparent, Duran would outbox Leonard with a mockery. And then he went right back to work. The final third of the contest would involve the most ferocious of action. Leonard was game, firing on all cylinders. Duran continued to look like he was a candidate for the greatest of all boxers. The result was in zero question: While Leonard had given it his all, he had no choice with who he was locked in with. To this day, it’s difficult to think of many greater victories.
25 - Wilfredo Gomez vs Lupe Pintor (December 3, 1982)
Few pugilists earn their ringname the way the great Wilfredo Gomez did ‘Bazooka’. The Puerto Rican legend was a force of nature, specializing in rendering his foes into beaten wrecks. And, if that wasn’t unfair enough, he was one hell of a boxing prodigy capable of teaching even fellow ring talents as Carlos Zarate lessons in destruction. It took an equally special man in Salvador Sanchez to stop him in his tracks, but one thing was clear: If Gomez stepped into the ring with you, then someone was going to be finished - and most of the time, it wasn’t him. While Gomez was a master ring general, he was a hothead unafraid to rely on his punch more than anything else. Lupe Pintor, a rugged, physical and durable Mexican champion took his chances, resulting in a generational firefight so intense that HBO’s Harold Lederman attested he would never see a better one ringside.
Gomez’s cleaner ability won the first two, but then he couldn’t help himself: In the third, he threw nothing but hammers, determined to end it early. The assault made no difference, Pintor would turn the tide for the second half of the round. From there, Pintor’s resistance led to aggression, as he walked down the champion, willfully firing a jab out to keep the brawl Gomez started going and ripping him to the body if the latter backed off. It was a gamble though, as Gomez proved his power was an equalizer, knocking Pintor’s head around with cracking blows, but it may well have been paying off as the Puerto Rican’s face was starting to swell in the sixth. It wasn’t just his visage that was taking a beating; he almost went down from a body shot that only his legs kept him up for. Seconds later, Pintor had those same legs wobble for a moment. Consequently, Pintor brought out Gomez’s mean streak - and fouls followed. With Pintor’s refusal to fold, Gomez changed tactics in the eighth, as he drew counters instead of looking to finish. Again, neither man could deny their nature - the ninth’s chaos resumed the brawl, and it was only escalating.
The twelfth simply defies description, there aren’t many more violent rounds than it; near finishes on both sides see corners drag their men back to the stool. Something had to give - and it did: a swollen Gomez put the unmarked challenger down in the fourteenth. Pintor took his mouthpiece out, having an ethereal look - as though he were contemplating continuing what he had already given so much to - and got up one last time to be knocked back down. Once again, Gomez proved, in his most savage outing, that his bouts were the definitive kill-or-be-killed.
In any other year, this would have won its due accolades.
24 - Evander Holyfield vs Dwight Muhammad Qawi I (July 12, 1986)
The greatest of all cruiserweight meetings can only be described as one of the most attritional fights to ever be waged. While Evander Holyfield’s amateur degree made up for a small number of professional outings, questions were asked when faced with the most arduous demand of going fifteen, especially against the WBA titleholder, Dwight Muhammad Qawi. ‘The Camden Buzzsaw’ was no hyperbolic namesake; Qawi loved to fight and he loved to beat his opponents down even more. Toughened by his background, Qawi was unlikely to be dissuaded, and, as Holyfield learned, Qawi had defense he had never faced before. Even in his fast start, Holyfield’s combinations simply hit hair as the shorter juggernaut rolled past all of them, then responded by blasting the challenger’s midsection. The energy expenditure and Qawi’s pressure seemed on the verge of breaking Holyfield’s will as the fight entered the fourth and he found himself the recipient of a vicious assault for the next few rounds, only earning more punishment and taunts for his attempts for respite. But these rounds proved Holyfield was no quitter the champion thought he was, and round seven let Holyfield prove he belonged: he turned his shoulder in and willfully chose to fight inside with Qawi, turning him into devastating crosses or creating space to fire the jab to set up the uppercut. From there, Holyfield earned his second wind, and the encounter became close. The younger man’s resurgence led the fight in volume, but a devastating counteroffensive from Qawi kept Holyfield honest and on the constant backfoot throughout.
While it was Qawi wearing the physical marks of the war, Holyfield’s admission of losing weight midfight from the damage dealt shows it was every bit a costly affair to him too - one that he considered quitting the sport for, yet he didn’t. But his activity was preoccupying a slowing Qawi’s defenses, and, in that physical decline, Holyfield began landing his hardest blows - a combination in the thirteenth had Qawi stunned only for a second, but it was what he needed. The two threw down the gauntlet to the final bell, with Qawi pulling out all the stops, even if it meant getting hurt - or faking it - to get to someone who proved who belonged. Sure enough, Holyfield won the victory to propel his legacy
23 - Jung Koo Chang vs Katsuo Tokashiki (August 18, 1984)
Jung-Koo Chang’s fourth title defense was against an extraordinarily valiant challenger in Katsuo Tokashiki, who endeavored to bring the war. Tokashiki was doing so much right, feinting with Chang, looking to press him to the ropes, throw at all levels and as the champion fired - he was here to make him work. And, in a scintillating opening round, he paid a price as he learned that this was no ordinary man from Korea: Chang’s left hook had Tokashiki meet the floor late. They went right back to it in the second, whereupon the firefight escalated to some of the greatest trades on film. It was apparent that Chang was still more than Tokashiki had bargained for, willfully waging the brawl in southpaw just because he could - something few could ever dare to try. Even a temporary breakthrough in the fourth that saw Chang visibly hurt was met with vicious, stylized retaliation. Chang’s accuracy defies destruction, his offense as dynamic as it gets, and his defense made only Tokashiki’s best efforts land clean. The jab maintains distance and the moment the challenger reclaimed ground, he was met with fury. Still, the fight had been at a tremendous pace, so Chang sought to end it in a seventh round where he turned Tokashiki’s corporeal being into a crash dummy, battering him all over the four corners in ways that visually seemed impossible.
Amazingly, the challenger survived to see some light: Chang was tired - and he went right back to pushing the firefight. He couldn’t make it past the champion’s diverse safety blankets - and the recovery allowed Chang to put Tokashiki down for good in the ninth to conclude an incredible shootout.
22 - Manny Pacquaio vs Juan Manuel Marquez IV (December 8, 2012)
Rivalries are, in many ways, the most thrilling scenario for sporting competition. After all, while one permanent victor has its own appeal, you want to see sportsmen tested. And when they meet their equal, you’ll get a series of contests that tell their own story. In the twenty-first century, the quadrilogy between Manny Pacquaio and Juan Manuel Marquez was one of twists and turns. Their first encounter, Pacquaio’s unrefined, offensive energy sent Marquez down three times, yet the counterpuncher fought his way back to a draw. Their second meeting was as desperately close, this time where both were around their technical peaks. In a brilliant clash of smarts and grit, Pacquaio won a razor-close decision. Their third, another fine contest, with Pacquaio taking home a controversial victory that most would have given to the Mexican. One way or another, however, regardless of circumstances that led to it, the final meeting between the two was a chance to settle things decisively.
The Phillipino great, whose offensive mixups were the sports best, came to counter Marquez’s premise that he was the lesser tactician: employing his jab at all levels behind myriads of feints, he boxed with splendor in the opening rounds. Marquez, while more than willing to trade fire, knew the dangers firsthand of his dynamic foe, so he made his adjustment. A series of body shots set the expectation, then an overhand delivered from all the frustration of thirty-nine previous rounds floored Pacquaio in the third. Pacquaio smashed his gloves together with bluster, but Marquez’s newfound aggression behind the jab told a different story: they were both on a knife’s edge. From there, the two’s hands fired straight across at another - as though they were fencing - on the centerline; he who controlled it was bound to win. But then, Pacquaio’s upperbody feints, in tandem with the offset rhythm of his punches, scored a knockdown of his own in the fifth. Pacquaio gave into his aggressive instincts, proceeding to tear into Marquez with all his pent up emotions. Marquez, the epitome of a survivalist, emerged from the corner a bloodied mess. Suddenly, he was in the same place as he was in the first fight, facing the same whirlwind again. It was an unstoppable storm, carving through his defenses, but Marquez did what he could anytime he was on the verge of being taken out - he remained calm and waited for his opportunity. To Marquez, regardless of how much trouble he was in, it was always the same matchup: Pacquaio was innately driven to be offensive and Marquez was the specialist at finding that one punch. As the seconds dwindled in the sixth, Pacquaio lunged behind his jab - and it was exactly what Marquez waited for, stepping in on his rival and unleashing his power hand, coded in four fights worth of learning, into Pacquaio’s only blind spot. Pacquaio wasn’t getting up from this one.
It was the perfect punch - the exact story closing ending Marquez could have asked for. Their series, spanning nearly a decade, had reached its conclusion. Marquez was never going to be greater than Pacquaio, but for one night, he proved that he could do something that the latter could never have dreamed in their meetings. Manny Pacquaio had wreathed havoc in every division he had entered. It.had been over a decade and multiple divisions since he had been finished - here, there was no question.
The 2010s could not have had a better fight that decade - and there isn’t one. However, this one is not my favorite.
21 - Julio Cesar Chavez vs Meldrick Taylor I (March 17, 1990)
The collision course for Julio Cesar Chavez and Meldrick Taylor’s unification title belt wasn’t simply a high-stakes match, it was an encounter that was one of the generation’s most anticipated meetings. Chavez, arguably Mexico’s greatest historical boxer, effectively cut the ring as well as anyone else could, seized the reins up close, and mauled his opponents down. Taylor, molded by that patented Philadelphia masochistic streak, was a paragon of speed and grit. ‘Thunder Meets Lightning’ had never been as fitting a title for a bout that was destined to live up to expectations. From the beginning, Taylor’s jab was on point, though he met an early problem in that no amount of training could prevent Chavez from limiting his movement, and the Mexican great showed he was savvy at range with heavy right leads that drew the first visible damage of the night. Conceding that he couldn’t get away from Chavez, Taylor decided to outwork him, dazzling with his handspeed and surprising with his inside efforts. His jab remained a constant factor, allocating his goals to be first and last. Taylor’s laborious workrate earned him the optical and scoring victories he needed for points, only there was a gradual cost in that he could never make Chavez flinch while the blood from his mouth was only presenting what his opportunism had given him. Attempts to stay on the outside led to closer rounds than Taylor seemed to like - or maybe it was his own love for war that drove him on - so he stepped back into the fire with the generation’s most clinical inside technician. The seventh would be a war, as both ripped into another with the sort of intensity that you could never imagine in most fights, but whatever lead Taylor had was dissipating, so he bit on his mouthpiece and tried to work harder. He wasn’t the only one worried, as Chavez’s corner demanded a sense of urgency despite the grisly swelling on the American’s face - that even if Chavez was wearing him down, the time remaining was nothing to scoff out. No one wasted any time as the ninth began and the tenth would only raise the stakes as Taylor’s visage resembled a recipient of a vehicle collision while Chavez ripped into him. It was simply a race against time.
With three minutes remaining, Taylor was told by his corner, perhaps against their judgment, that the final round was needed. Chavez, for his part, suddenly seemed to play the waiting game in a reversal of fortunes. Did he know something we didn’t - did he expect Taylor to break from his will being too much for his body? Either way, it wouldn’t matter, as Chavez picked his spots. And then he launched a perfect right cross. Taylor faked a wobble, but the next right had him staggered for real.
Tired behind imagination, Taylor’s bravado disappeared as Chavez finally showed his hand, diving for a desperate clinch only to be met with a series of blows. A final, coffin-nail right landed with only fifteen seconds remained - and Taylor crumpled at last.
Except he didn’t. He got up one more time. The referee, one Richard Steele made his count to eight, asked Taylor if he was fine to no reply - and waved the contest with almost no time remaining. The result is controversial for a reason - perhaps deserving more discussion than I have time for. Personally, it’s a stoppage I believe is justifiable if I was forced to comment. Nonetheless, if one thing is clear: there are very few matches boxing has ever seen that surpass this one. It’s a dramatic affair from start to finish, as Chavez cements himself as the pound-for-pound king against a game opponent who gave everything he had to.
This concludes part eight. Next time, more of the same, and yet, every bit it isn’t.