Boxing can be the greatest sport of them all - no other sport is so cruelly demanding on the body, so pure in it's outcome.

     Unfortunately, no sport has seen more fixed outcomes; the fact that snakes like Don King have controlled the last 50 years means that relatively few fights made the "Greatest Games" cut.

Olympic medalists

History of heavyweight champions

     The greatest fighter of all time, Muhammed Ali, was involved in 5 classic battles. Two of them are listed among the greatest games of all time - his fight against George Foreman in Zaire in 1974 to win the title, and his tremendous battle against Joe Frazier in Manila in 1975 to defend it. One of the other two made him the pre-eminent athlete of his generation - his 1964 victory over Sonny Liston. The younger Ali defeated Liston easily, and I believe the younger version of Ali could have easily beaten Frazier, Norton or Foreman in the 1970s.

     The next great Ali fight was his very first battle against Joe Frazier on March 8, 1971, dubbed "The Fight of the Century" - a rusty Ali was overmatched and took a beating.

     And finally, perhaps the most heartbreaking fight of them all - Father Time caught up with the champ in 1980.

     As for the rest of the most significant fights of the century, I show here a strong preference for heavyweight bouts - that's a deliberate choice, given my reluctance to treat lighter weight divisions as anything more important than minor league baseball or, say, women's golf - and an inclination to choose the earlier classics, as opposed to the overhyped modern fights.

The Greatest Fighters:

     Here are the greatest fighters of all time, in my view:

1. Muhammed Ali - Tremendous foot-speed and ring savvy. He could take a punch better than anyone, and was pound-for-pound the best fighter of all time. Arguably, he never developed a defense, and that could have have cost him against the only other fighter who might be #1.  Defeated Frazier twice, Liston once and Foreman once; beaten by Joe Frazier once.
2. Joe Louis - No one ever hit harder. To be honest with you, Louis might be in a class by himself, ahead even of Ali.  Once he fixed the flaw in his style (a low-carry of his left) that cost him a loss against Schmeling in 1936, he was unbeatable - but he didn't have the mobility of Ali.  Defeated Jersey Joe Walcott; lost to Marciano, but was almost 40 at the time.
3. Sugar Ray Robinson - The term "pound for pound, the greatest fighter" was practically invented for him.
4. Gene Tunney - Despite the controversy over the Long Count bout in 1927, he was better than Jack Dempsey.  He fought him twice, after all, and won 19 of the 20 rounds.  Defeated Dempsey twice.
5. Rocky Marciano - The only undefeated champ of all time.  Very dangerous in close, and a relentless brawler, but not a great ring tactician and hittable.  Defeated Jersey Joe Walcott, and Joe Louis, but both were almost 40 at the time.
6. Sonny Liston - Terrifying ring presence, tremendous intimidator.  But if he didn't scare you, he was hittable and, and he quit against Ali in 1965.  Lost to Ali twice.
7. Jack Johnson - the best fighter ever - until Louis came along.
8. George Foreman - Watching a taped fight of his in the early 1970s, one is struck by his raw power. But he was hittable, as Ali demonstrated, and his propensity for registering early knockouts might have sapped his stamina. Still, he makes a damned fine barbecue.  Beat Frazier twice and Norton once; lost to Ali.
9. Joe Frazier - Depended solely on his left hook - Marciano could hit with both hands.  Lost two of three to Ali; lost to Foreman twice.
10. Mike Tyson - Youngest champ ever, and for four years the most dominating man in boxing history.

     Next to Joe Louis, Sonny Liston was the most fearsome fighter of all time - here was a man who had once knocked out a mule with a six-inch punch, a street tough and ex-con who had grown up in a house with 25 brothers and sisters.

     Years later, Ali admitted that it was the only time he was ever scared going into a fight.  But the fleet-footed Clay, a 7-to-1 underdog, shocked the world by dethroning Liston at the young age of 22, and writing a new chapter in boxing history.

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   Ali, the most vilified athlete of the 1960s became an American hero in the 1970s, with his courageous wins over George Foreman in 1974 and Joe Frazier in 1975.

   After his fight with Joe Frazier in 1975, Ali's health was deteriorating, and he faced a string of relatively weak opponents (Jean-Pierre Cooperman, Jimmy Young, Richard Dunn and an aging Ken Norton in 1976; Alfredo Evangelista and Ernie Shavers in 1977).  Arguably, judges gave Ali a favorable decision over the latter two.

   But it was an overconfident and out-of-shape Ali who lost his title on Feb. 15, 1978 when Leon Spinks, a 1976 Olympic gold medalist who had only seven fights as a pro, took a split decision.

   Ali stayed on the ropes and assumed that Spinks was going to punch himself out (just like Foreman in Zaire).  But instead, Spinks punched nonstop, and racked up points against the once-unstoppable champ.  And although Ali had Spinks backed up in the last round, it was too late. For the first time in his long career, Ali lost his title in the ring.

   Ali regained the title from Spinks seven months later, winning a unanimous decision, to become the first three-time heavyweight champion.  It would be his last victory.  The following June, Ali announced his retirement.

   But money brought him back, along perhaps with some notion that he could still be "The Greatest" at the age of 38.  It was two years after Ali had regained his title for a remarkable second time, and 20 years since Ali's first pro fight.  Against the advice of his closest friends, Ali challenged the undefeated heavyweight champion, Larry Holmes, the dominant fighter of his era. Although he was in terrific shape, Father Time had eroded Ali's reflexes, and Larry Holmes exposed the ex-champ's hubris by simply pounding him.

   Ali later said: "All I could think of after the first round was, 'Oh, God, I still have 14 rounds to go."  Ali's former sparring partner beat him for 10 rounds, probably contributing mightily to the development of Parkinson's disease, the neurological disorder which has now left Ali a shadow of his former self.  Only courage kept Ali from being knocked out earlier; before the 11th round started, Ali's corner threw in the towel. 

   Sylvester Stallone watched the fight and likened it to "an autopsy on a man who's still alive." 

   More than 70 years since the Jack Dempsey vs. Gene Tunney rematch, the famous "Long Count" fight remains one of the most memorable moments in sports history. The first meeting between Dempsey and Tunney was among the greatest events in sports. A record crowd of more than 120,000 jammed Philadelphia's Sesquicentennial Stadium on September 26, 1926, and paid a record gate of $1.8 million to see Dempsey defend his title for the first time in three years.

   Dempsey was a magnet for publicity, a bruising, hard-hitting fighter known as "The Manassa Mauler." But Tunney, a superb ring tactician, cleanly outboxed him and won nearly all 10 rounds, to claim the heavyweight championship.

   Dempsey gained public sentiment in defeat. He showed dignity and class, and even wit - he uttered one of sports history's famous quotes when he explained the defeat to his wife, "Honey, I forgot to duck."

   So the public demanded a rematch. In their second fight, at Soldier Field, Chicago, with 104,943 fans watching, Dempsey appeared better-trained and in better shape. Still, he lost the first 6 rounds. In the 7th round, he finally connected with a long right then followed that with a left hook to the chin. Another straight right drove the champion backward and as he careened off the ropes Dempsey landed another hook to the chin. As Tunney began to fall the challenger connected with a four-punch combination to his head. The champion hit the canvas.

   Dempsey reacted the way he always had, remaining as close to the former champion as possible. But the Illinois State Athletic Commission rules stated that in the event of a knockdown, the opponent must go to the farthest neutral corner before the referee begins his count. When referee Dave Barry motioned Dempsey toward the neutral corner, he replied, "I'll stay here." Barry then walked over to Dempsey and half pushed him in the proper direction. Meanwhile, Tunney sat on the canvas. Instead of picking up the timekeeper's count at six, the referee shouted "One." At the count of three Tunney lifted his head and looked at Barry, but didn't get to his feet until the referee reached nine.

   Some witnesses claimed later that Tunney was down on the canvas for fourteen seconds, others claimed seventeen, and all agreed it was more than ten. In any case, for the rest of the round, Tunney cleverly backpedaled and parried the bull rushes of the ever-determined Dempsey, who at one point dropped his gloves in frustration and beckoned the champion to stand and fight. But the disciplined Tunney, who avoided fighting "Dempsey's Fight" through 16 rounds, ignored the goading and survived the round.

   In between rounds, regained his wits, resumed control of the fight in the latter three rounds, and won a unanimous 10-round decision. He said later that he was aware at every moment what the situation was, and could have been up in time even if the count had not been stopped.

   Two years after suffering his first defeat, Joe Louis exacted his revenge on Max Schmeling. But the fight was for more than the heavyweight championship, more than two individuals competing: it was built into a battle of two ideologies.

   As the United States inched closer toward World War II, Hitler preached about the racial superiority of Aryans and conveniently portrayed Schmeling as a symbol of that superiority (even though Schmeling was not a Nazi). Schmeling, born in Brandenburg, Germany, had won the vacant world heavyweight title via a fourth-round foul against Jack Sharkey on June 13, 1930. His title reign was brief - lasting just two fights - but the German was considered a very good puncher. He knocked out the likes of Johnny Risko, Young Stribling and Mickey Walker.

   On June 19, 1936, he fought the unbeaten Louis. Schmeling detected a chink in Louis' armor: because Louis carried his left hand low, he was vulnerable to a counter right. In the fourth round, Schmeling's overhand right dropped Louis, who never recovered, though he lasted until the 12th before two rights by Schmeling ended the fight. In the dressing room, Louis cried.

   The loss didn't derail Louis: on June 22, 1937, he became the first black since Jack Johnson to win the heavyweight title when he knocked out James J. Braddock in the eighth round. After that fight, Louis insisted he not be called champ until he avenged the loss to Schmeling. Louis made three title defenses and then signed to fight the only man who defeated him as a pro.

   The rematch was thus Schmeling, representing Hitler (though Schmeling wasn't a Nazi) in the public imagination, against the champion Louis, representing the forces of democracy. Louis was invited to the White House, where President Franklin Roosevelt felt the champ's biceps and told him. "Joe, we need muscles like yours to beat Germany." There are reports of messages to Schmeling from Hitler warning him that he had better win for the glory of the Third Reich. Hitler hailed him as a paragon of Teutonic manhood, and telephoned him personally before he left the dressing room.

   Before some 70,000 fans at Yankee Stadium, Louis pulverized Schmeling, knocking him to the canvas three times. Just 124 seconds into the fight, Schmeling lay broken on the canvas, counted out, having thrown just two punches in the bout.

   "Pound for pound" - the term was invented to describe Sugar Ray Robinson. He held the world welterweight title from 1946 to 1951, then was the middleweight champion five times between 1951 and 1960. At his peak, his record was 128-1-2 with 84 knockouts. And he never took a 10-count in his 200 fights, though he once suffered a TKO.  His one early loss was to Jake LaMotta, his career-long rival. They fought six times, and Robinson won five.

   Like Jack Johnson and Joe Louis, Robinson was one of the first black athletes to become a major star outside of sports. With his flashy pink Cadillac convertible and his Harlem nightclub, he was as much a part of the New York scene in the forties and fifties as the Copa and Sinatra. In fact, he was the pioneer of boxing's bigger-than-life entourages, including a secretary, barber, masseur, voice coach, a coterie of trainers, beautiful women, a dwarf mascot and lifelong manager George Gainford.

   Shortly after winning the New York Golden Gloves, Robinson turned pro at age 19, and began his rivalry with LaMotta. It started with his brutal, 10-round victory in New York. LaMotta, a middleweight, won their first rematch in Detroit, Robinson's first defeat in 41 pro fights. Then Robinson, a welterweight, avenged the loss three weeks later, also in Detroit. Robinson won two more decisions over LaMotta in 1945.

   Just before Christmas 1946, Robinson won the vacant welterweight championship with a unanimous 15-round decision over Tommy Bell. An eighth-round TKO of Jimmy Doyle in 1947 proved to be a tragic title defense for Robinson. Doyle suffered brain injuries that eventually cost him his life. When the coroner asked if he figured to get Doyle "in trouble," Robinson said, "Mister, it's my business to get him in trouble."

   Robinson continued to dominate his welterweight championship fights, including winning a unanimous decision over future champ Kid Gavilan on July 11, 1949. Then he moved up and won the vacant Pennsylvania middleweight title in 1950 with a unanimous decision over France's Robert Villemain.

   Still, there was that enduring memory of the only man who ever beat him. After more than five years, Robinson was reunited with LaMotta at Chicago Stadium on Feb. 14, 1951.

   Through seven rounds, the fight was competitive. Then the champ took command: he ripped into the "Raging Bull," and for four rounds he beat him as viciously as any boxer has ever beaten an opponent. A weary LaMotta came out for the 12th round, hanging onto the ropes, Robinson's trunks, anything he could find to avoid being knocked down for the first time in his career. Somehow, LaMotta answered the bell for the 13th, but a barrage of unanswered punches from Robinson led the referee to stop the bloodbath.

   Jack Dempsey and Luis Firpo engaged in one of the most exciting bouts in boxing history. Dempsey survived two knockdowns, including one in which he was knocked clear out of the ring by the Argentinean, and retained his heavyweight championship.

   The fight was basically a fierce exchange of wallops, unbroken by any kind of strategic history. Dempsey slipped coming out of his corner, and five seconds after the opening bell, Dempsey was felled to one knee after a right to the jaw from "The Wild Bull of the Pampas." Dempsey retaliated by knocking down Firpo seven times. But before the first round ended, a desperation right by Firpo sent Dempsey through the ropes and onto a sportswriter's typewriter, much to the shock of some 90,000 fans at the Polo Grounds in New York. The writer and a Western Union operator helped Dempsey make it back inside the ring before the count of 10.

   Firpo outweighed Dempsey by 24 pounds, but couldn't put the finishing blow to the champ. Dempsey used Firpo for a punching bag in the second round before knocking him out, ending the fight after three minutes and 57 seconds of mayhem.

   In storybook fashion, "Rocky" triumphed in Philadelphia. Marciano, that is, not Balboa.

   Unbeaten in 42 fights, the 29-year-old Marciano was a 9-5 favorite against heavyweight champ Jersey Joe Walcott. But the champion knocked the Rock down with a short left hook in the first round before 40,379 fans at Municipal Stadium. For the first time in his career, Marciano was looking up at his opponent.

   The 38-year-old Walcott, a clever boxer, kept at him, and after 12 rounds he was in total control, ahead by four rounds from one official, three by another and two by the third.

   Marciano needed a knockout to gain the title, and early in the 13th Marciano, though battered and bloodied, delivered one of the most devastating punches in boxing history, a short right to the side of Walcott's chin. Walcott sank to one knee, his left arm hooked around the middle rope, his head resting on the canvas. Then Jersey Joe went out, the 38th knockout victim of the Brockton Blockbuster, and Marciano was the new heavyweight champ.

   Marciano granted Walcott a rematch on May 15, 1953, and knocked him out in the first round. Marciano would go on to defend against Roland Lastaza (11th round K), Ezzard Charles (won by decision), Charles again (this time a KO in the 8th), Don Cockell (9th round KO) and perhaps most memorably Archie Moore (9th round KO). Marciano retired after his September 21, 1955 bout with Moore, with a record of 49-0 (43 by knockout), the only undefeated heavyweight champion in boxing history.

   Joe Louis was a bruising, intimidating figure: the son of an Alabama sharecropper, great grandson of a slave, great great grandson of a white slave owner became the first African-American to achieve lasting fame and popularity in the 20th century. Louis was perhaps the most successful heavyweight champion of all time. He held the belt from 1938 to 1949 - longer than any man in history - and he successfully defended his title 25 times; in those 25 wins he had 20 knockouts. And perhaps most impressively, he knocked out five world champions in his career. 

   So it must have seemed like another day at the office when he took on Billy Conn in June of 1941, in an attempt to defend his title for the 18th time. Conn was a former light-heavyweight champ, but he gave up 25 pounds to the great Louis. In front of a crowd of 54,487 at the Polo Grounds - some of whom paid $25 for a ringside ticket - the 174-pound Conn used his quick jab to outbox the heavyweight champion. Conn was more mobile than Louis had expected, and he was ahead on points when he began pummeling the champ in the 12th round. He hurt Louis badly, and with three rounds left, Conn was ahead 7-5 and 7-4-1 on two officials' cards and tied on the other. In his corner, his handlers instructed him to box with caution.

   In the opposite corner, Louis was told that he's losing. "I was hoping that he'd lose his head pretty quick," Louis said after the fight, "because I knew I was losing the title. They told me if I was going to win I had to knock him out."

   Conn didn't heed his corner's advice. He tried to slug it out with Louis, going for the knockout in the 13th round and trading blows flat-footed in the middle of the ring. But it was Louis who delivered the telling blows: a left followed by a hard right finally sent Conn to the canvas. With two seconds left in the round, Conn was counted out.

   After the fight, the chastened challenger said: "I guess I got too much Irish in me. I lost my head. You can't trade punches with that man." Then Conn added, "What's the sense of being Irish, if you can't be dumb?"

   The first boxing match of the 20th century that transcended the sport occurred on July 4, 1910 in Reno, Nev. Jack Johnson, the seventh man to hold the heavyweight title in the gloved era, was putting his crown on the line against former champion Jim Jefferies.

   This was dark chapter in American history: whites were in the process of re-assuming total control of Southern politics, and the elaborate machinery of segregation was being put into place. A Supreme Court decision in 1883 struck down the Civil rights Act of 1875, and the 1896 Plessy v. Ferguson case had not only granted racial segregation constitutional protection, but entrenched an educational system designed to keep blacks socially and economically inferior. 

   Despite all this, Jack Johnson broke the color barrier in a major American sport almost 40 years before the world heard of Jackie Robinson and  Larry Doby. Johnson was also a fugitive for seven years, having been accused of violating a white slavery act with a woman who would become his third wife.

   Johnson was also the most dominant boxer of his time. The Ring Record Book lists his record as 79-8 with 46 knockouts, 12 draws and 14 no-decisions. He moved to California in 1901 and, on Feb. 3, 1903, in Los Angeles, won the "Colored Heavyweight Championship of the World" with a 20-round decision over Denver Ed Martin.

   A year later, Johnson issued a challenge to Jim Jeffries, who held the world title at the time. But Jeffries wouldn't fight a black. It wouldn't be until Dec. 26, 1908, that Johnson would finally get his shot at the title. He got it for the simplest of reasons. Champion Tommy Burns was guaranteed $30,000 to fight him.

   Johnson, the first black champion, was vilified from coast to coast. Johnson was ... er, flamboyant: he had his own jazz band, owned a Chicago nightclub, acted on stage, drove flashy yellow sports cars, reputedly walked his pet leopard while sipping champagne, flaunted gold teeth that went with his gold-handled walking stick, and kept the company of some of his era's most desired women, most of them white: Moulin Rouge star Mistinguette; German spy Mata Hari; sex symbols Lupe Velez and Mae West.

   Within a year of winning the title, Johnson made five successful defenses, all against white challengers.  As this was happening, the media, boxing insiders and political forces mounted an effort to find a man - a white man - who could defeat Johnson.  It was decided former champion Jefferies would be the "Great White Hope."

   Jefferies, who had retired and become an alfalfa farmer, had bloated to more than 300 pounds, more than 90 pounds over his prime fighting weight.  Johnson, who had knocked out Jefferies' brother in 1902, was wary of the former champion in the first few rounds.  Jefferies, who had lost more than 70 pounds in training, looked physically fit at 227 pounds.  But it soon became apparent that the six-year layoff had robbed the 35-year-old Jefferies of his world class ability.

   Johnson, 32, slowly began to open up, but remained cautious through the sixth round.  Jefferies did land an occasional blow, but the punches lacked authority.  Johnson sprang from his corner to start Round 7 and landed a hard right to the jaw that visibly shook Jefferies. Johnson, who had peppered his opponent's face with brilliant counters throughout the fight, sent the former champion back to his corner with his right eye nearly swollen shut.  In Round 14 Johnson sent Jefferies to the canvas three times - the first time in Jefferies' career he had been knocked down - before the former champ's corner threw in the towel.

   Mike Tyson was the youngest fighter ever to win the heavyweight championship - he was 20 when he scored a second-round knockout of Trevor Berbick. Over the next four years, Tyson was the most dominant fighter in history - it wasn't so much a matter of whether he would win his fights, but of how quickly he would knock his opponents out.

   It took him four rounds to knock out former champ Larry Holmes; he bumped off Carl "The Truth" Williams in 93 seconds and Michael Spinks in 91 seconds. 

   But Tyson was vulnerable against fighters who weren't intimidated by him.  Whether or not James "Buster" Douglas - a massive 35:1 underdog - was scared or not, he appeared confident and stood up to the champ.  Fans were stunned to see "Iron" Mike Tyson begin to falter under Douglas' heavy blows - Douglas was exposing Tyson's lack of speed and poor defense to an extent that no one had thought possible.

   In the 8th round, Douglas got careless, and Tyson knocked him down with a vicious uppercut.  Douglas kept his eyes on the referee, and got up when the ref hit "9."  In fact, eleven seconds had elapsed after the time-keeper began, but the fight continued despite the discrepancy.

   Midway into the 10th round, Douglas floored Tyson, who clumsily regained his footing at the referee's nine-count.  The referee bear-hugged him and stopped the contest at 1:23 of the 10th round over the stunned roar of the crowd.  The upset was the biggest in professional boxing history, at longer odds than Clay-Liston I (7:1) or even Jim Braddock over Max Baer (10:1).

   Larry Holmes always resented the attention given to Muhammed Ali in the 1970s.  He complained that he was being ignored by the media, in favor of the fading champ, and he had a point.

   Rarely mentioned as one of the great ones - except by the cognoscenti - his bout with Ken Norton in 1978 for the WBC belt was proof that he was a courageous warrior.  Despite a torn left bicep, he took four of the first five rounds, mostly by using his jab (one of the best in heavyweight history) to great effect.  "Now it's my turn," Norton told his corner before the sixth, and he took five of the next six.

     After 11 rounds, Norton had a slight edge, but Holmes was relentless - he staggered Norton twice in the 13th, and Norton returned the favor in the 14th.  Going into the 15th, the fight was even on all three scorecards.  The 15th was like something out of a gladiator movie - two warriors hammering at each other, knowing that the victor would be the one who emerged the better after three climactic minutes.  Just before the final round, Holmes stunned Norton with a huge right, and that might have won him the bout.

   One judge gave the 15th to Norton, but the other two gave it to the Easton Assassin.  With it came the title that Holmes would hold for seven years and 20 defenses.

   When Ray Mancini defended his lightweight title in Caesar's Palace in 1982, he could have been staring into a mirror.  Kim and Mancini were the same height, the same weight, and fought with the same straight-ahead, throwing-punches-from-all-angles, tenacious spirit.

     Kim, a poor peasant from Korea's rice patties, gave Mancini the fight of his life.  "Boom Boom" Mancini later said that this was the only bout in which he considered quitting midway through; after 10 rounds,, the fight was a draw.  By the 11th, Mancini was gaining control, and in the 13th he unleashed an unanswered flurry of blows.  But Kim kept coming, displaying bravery in the face of incredible punishment.  Early in the 14th, Mancini knocked him down for good - Kim was down and out, and Mancini left victorious and immensely relieved.

   It wasn't until the next day that he found out the extent of Kim's injuries - doctors found a massive blood clot in Kim's brain, and four days later died as a result of the injuries. 

   Mancini was changed forever by the fight - he lost his title in 1984 to Livingstone Branable, then lost the rematch and never won another fight.  He retired in 1985, at the age of 23.  He would attempt a comeback a few years later, but that was uneventful. 

     In the weeks that followed, a debate raged about regulations, even a moratorium, on professional boxing - one of the major revisions of the rules that was a direct result was the reduction in the number of rounds in a prize fight, from 15 to 12.