PeteLeo
02-13-2006, 03:52 AM
Willie "the Sandman" Edwards. His combination of brutal punching power (including one-punch KO potential when he landed right) and a very iffy chin made every bout in which he was a participant exciting. When Willie was in the ring, the fight literally could end at any moment and with either boxer on the floor. I rewatched his title bout with Bobby Czyz earlier this evening, and it was a round and a half pressure cooker: the then tough Czyz was down in the first, and Edwards was left a quaking, deep-breathing mass of flesh in the second after a single Czyz right cross. I hope Willie's healthy and in high clover now.
Chris Calvin. Chris had a fair jab, a fair, left hook, a decent chin, and a right hand that could puncture the side of a battleship. His bouts usually followed a pattern of Chris taking all manner of stick in and about the face, looking on the verge of an ambulance ride, and then finding the sweet spot with that atomic right. Good fighters like Bret Summers and Forrest Winchester seemed unable to believe it when Calvin knocked them down round after round while taking severe punishment himself. Cocky, talented former street fighter Juan Arroyo was so distraught after being caught by Calvin's money punch that he struggled Judah-like in the arms of his cornermen following his knockout loss and cried loudly enough to be heard over the air, "I gotta kill that guy, I gotta kill that guy!"
But Chris was visited with that rare yet still too-frequent tragedy innate to boxing when his powerful blows landed with too much impact on brave Shaun Thomas and took his life (Thomas' last words were, "Is this the end of my career?"). Calvin was really never the same thereafter. In his next bout, Chris faced then-undefeated and hard-charging Greg Haugen. He stung Haugen early, but the finishing instinct was no longer there, and Greg came back to stop him. There were a few wins (including KOs) and more losses following that, but these only confirmed that the road led downhill after Thomas. As with Edwards, my hope is that Calvin is healthy and comfortable now.
Maybe it's selfish of me, but I also miss Buck Smith. He wasn't exceptional in any way (though when an opponent coorperated by allowing him to crank up that big hook, Buck could look like gangbusters), but I appreciated the fact that boxing was his business, and apparently his only business. Smith literally was a "Have gloves, Will travel" kind of fellow who fought dozens of times every year and gave a real effort every time I saw him. In these days of 20 bout "veterans," Buck had over a hundred and seventy (or so) wins in his road warrior career. This schedule can't be good for the human body, but it sure was a nice change for those of us who followed boxing back in the Eighties through one and two-line result posts in our daily newspapers. Buck Smith was a steady presence when boxing offered more dilettantes than hard-nosed journeymen. What can I say other than express my wish that he's enjoying the fruits of his labors alongside Calvin and Edwards and thousands of other honest performers who put so much into the sport with so little resulting fame and fortune? PeteLeo.
Chris Calvin. Chris had a fair jab, a fair, left hook, a decent chin, and a right hand that could puncture the side of a battleship. His bouts usually followed a pattern of Chris taking all manner of stick in and about the face, looking on the verge of an ambulance ride, and then finding the sweet spot with that atomic right. Good fighters like Bret Summers and Forrest Winchester seemed unable to believe it when Calvin knocked them down round after round while taking severe punishment himself. Cocky, talented former street fighter Juan Arroyo was so distraught after being caught by Calvin's money punch that he struggled Judah-like in the arms of his cornermen following his knockout loss and cried loudly enough to be heard over the air, "I gotta kill that guy, I gotta kill that guy!"
But Chris was visited with that rare yet still too-frequent tragedy innate to boxing when his powerful blows landed with too much impact on brave Shaun Thomas and took his life (Thomas' last words were, "Is this the end of my career?"). Calvin was really never the same thereafter. In his next bout, Chris faced then-undefeated and hard-charging Greg Haugen. He stung Haugen early, but the finishing instinct was no longer there, and Greg came back to stop him. There were a few wins (including KOs) and more losses following that, but these only confirmed that the road led downhill after Thomas. As with Edwards, my hope is that Calvin is healthy and comfortable now.
Maybe it's selfish of me, but I also miss Buck Smith. He wasn't exceptional in any way (though when an opponent coorperated by allowing him to crank up that big hook, Buck could look like gangbusters), but I appreciated the fact that boxing was his business, and apparently his only business. Smith literally was a "Have gloves, Will travel" kind of fellow who fought dozens of times every year and gave a real effort every time I saw him. In these days of 20 bout "veterans," Buck had over a hundred and seventy (or so) wins in his road warrior career. This schedule can't be good for the human body, but it sure was a nice change for those of us who followed boxing back in the Eighties through one and two-line result posts in our daily newspapers. Buck Smith was a steady presence when boxing offered more dilettantes than hard-nosed journeymen. What can I say other than express my wish that he's enjoying the fruits of his labors alongside Calvin and Edwards and thousands of other honest performers who put so much into the sport with so little resulting fame and fortune? PeteLeo.