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Marvin Hagler Vs Nigel Benn: Who Wins and Why?

Who Wins?

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Marvelous-MarvinIt’s getting late have you seen my mates
Ma tell me when the boys get here
It’s seven o’clock and I want to rock
Want to get a belly full of beer

Don’t give us none of your aggravation
We had it with your discipline
Saturday night’s alright for fighting
Get a little action in.–Elton John

If you close your eyes and listen hard enough you can hear it. The distant sound of a blood thirsty crowd roaring themselves hoarse. It’s instinctual. Primal hardwiring. They can sense a fighter’s spirit sag before his body betrays him. The blood surges in their veins and in the shadows facial features contort with rabid anticipation as the wounded warrior wills himself to fight on.

They want the head. Held up for all to see. Gore and all. For some there is no loyalty. Just the spectacle of two fighters stripped to the waist locked in single combat and the thrill of seeing a man fall under the piston like fists of another. But the truth is most could not make the lonely walk to the ring themselves – a long dark tunnel of doubt – without feeling like a man being led to the gallows. Couldn’t handle their fear undulating like a large snake in the pit of the stomach. As the great Pierce Egan said – they were, “without bottom,” – a 19th century euphemism for not having the necessary courage to fight.

But for the rabid voyeur the thirst must be sated. So they watch other men – fighting men – do so in their stead. Some of these warriors have left us feeling as if our hearts would take sudden leave from our chests. Such is the excitement generated during their ring exploits. Nigel Benn and Marvelous Marvin Hagler were two such men. But what would have happened had they met in the ring to settle Anglo-American hostilities?

Nowadays so called Superfights tend not to live up to expectations. But all the right ingredients were there to make this a guaranteed action fight for as long as it lasted.

A closer look at both men.

Marvelous Marvin Hagler

62-3-2, 52 KO’s

Marvin Hagler cut a menacing figure to any opponent who had the misfortune to be standing in the opposite corner.

An imposingly muscular middleweight champion with a shaven head and a grim countenance, he was one of the most avoided contenders in middleweight history when he fought his way into the top class of 160 pound boxers in the late 1970’s.

Hagler was the epitome of what those in the trade used to call a real ring mechanic. Balanced. Poised. Technically proficient. Through deep study and experience he was able to apply the full arsenal of punches on a level rarely seen and he possessed genuine knockout power in either hand. He had mastered the fundamentals – where the essence of all boxing secrets are found – and became an extremely dangerous switch hitting southpaw who could box smoothly from distance and tear a man’s face to shreds – Syrian iron man Mustafa Hamsho required 55 stitches to hold his face together after their first encounter in 1981 – or go to war in the trenches with an unbridled ferocity to break a man’s will while projecting his bitter rage against the boxing establishment onto his hapless opponent – as he did with the likes of Alan Minter, Thomas Hearns, and John Mugabi, among others.

Hagler kept his training camp or “jail” on the last curl of Cape Cod in Massachusetts. It was a bitterly cold, windswept, and harsh environment in the winter months but he thought it perfect for his training requirements. The harder Hagler made things on himself the better he would be. He was that kind of fighter. Extremely dedicated to his craft. There he would labor under the watchful eyes of Pat and Goody Petronelli until the apex of tremendous physical condition and boxing sharpness was achieved. No distractions. No entourage. No sycophantic hangers on – flattery tumbling from loose lips in a never ending effort to gain favor. He was nobody’s fool and trusted very few people aside from the Petronelli brothers. It was a spartan existence but Hagler was made for it.

“Marvin’s an old-time fighter,” boxing gym owner Johnny Tocco once said. ”He don’t train in no ballroom.”

And so Hagler toiled in an abandoned hotel -which became a kind of pugilistic monument to busted noses and cauliflower ears. A place where the middleweight world champion went to prepare for some of his biggest battles.

”I like to get the smell of a gym instead of a circus,” Hagler said. ”How can you be serious all the time when you’re surrounded by people?”

Years of being denied a shot at the title because other fighters and their managers deemed him too dangerous made him a bitter, hard-nosed fighter. Between winning the middleweight title in 1980 – when he crushed Britain’s Alan Minter in three rounds in London, England, only to have his moment of glory ruined when the Minter faithful rioted and threw cans of beer and chairs into the ring – and 1987 when he controversially lost the championship to Sugar Ray Leonard – Hagler was unbeatable.

Hagler once said, “If it ain’t one thing it’s another. That’s the story of my life.” He wore his resentment like his boxing robe and cowl – as a form of protection with which to cover himself – his shaven head partially obscured by shadow on his way to the ring.

A long line of successive challengers to his title were, systematically dismantled, beaten down and violently disposed of in crushing fashion. During his seven year championship reign only Roberto Duran and Sugar Ray Leonard – both legends in their own right – were able to really test him.

benn2Nigel Benn

42-5-1, 35 KO’s

Nigel Benn fought with the wild abandon of a man on a promise. Only he knew what that promise was. But within that private arrangement with himself there must have been some terrible commitment to inflict maximum damage on his opponent.

“The Dark Destroyer” had one of the best nicknames in the business. And he lived up to it in every way. A dark, thickly muscled, brooding ring presence, Benn was the king of bash. Possessing frightening power he brutalised his opposition with either hand.

A proud Londoner and former soldier who served in Northern Ireland, he was laid back outside the ring but ferocious once he laced up the gloves. Fans love a fighter who takes no prisoners and Benn didn’t take any destroying his first 22 opponents all inside the distance in highlight reel fashion.

Benn fought mostly in one gear. Forward. And his punches slammed into the opponent’s flesh and bone like RPG shells denting the outer skin of an armored vehicle. He’d weave in close – swaying this way and that – and hammer his way in behind slashing hooks and uppercuts to the body and head – every punch loaded with mean intentions. And he generated tremendous leverage and power from both fists. Many an opponent went down like a sack of potatoes dropped off the back of a truck – such was the ferocity and power of his two fisted attacks.

But Benn himself often proved vulnerable to good counterpunchers. Michael Watson handed him his first defeat and subsequently Chris Eubank turned the same trick. Doug DeWitt also put Benn down with a left hook counter in their meeting. Nigel wasn’t chinny but he could be found and hurt due to his habit of squaring up while throwing bombs. But let it be said Benn was even more dangerous when hurt. You had to advance with caution if you’d stung him. Failure to do so could result in disaster – as DeWitt and Iran Barkley found out to their peril. Benn stopped both Americans soon after being hurt himself.

Benn would not, could not, have gone quietly into the night. He didn’t know how. He was a two fisted battalion with a cockney boy’s, “Saturday night’s alright for fighting,” mentality. If the crowd wanted the opponent’s head Benn was going to give it to them. He could be likened to a bomb waiting to go off. Nigel wasn’t the silky smooth type. He exploded on you and blew you away.

The Fight

Hagler would often stand in his corner pummeling his own body and head with his gloves before the first bell. Benn would have relished being in the opposite corner. He would have considered Hagler a truly worthy challenge to that sense of himself as a fighting man.

In the early rounds I see Benn walking Hagler down and applying steady forward pressure while looking to land a big shot. Benn was never the type to worry about another fighter’s game plan. The Londoner’s strategy wasn’t a secret. It was obvious to anyone who was paying attention. He would work to his strengths. Find the range, keep his head moving, and land a big shot with enough mustard on it to end the argument once and for all.

At this point in the bout – during the first three rounds – Hagler would not be a stationary target. He’d be using his footwork to stay on the outside, gliding to his right and left, blocking and rolling under shots if Benn got too close and sliding out to either side to escape when the opportunity presented itself. He’d remain tucked up behind a high guard and throw mainly straight shots to maintain distance. By the fourth frame Benn would start pressing the action more, punching harder to the body, in an effort to slow the American’s legs down but Hagler always kept his elbows well tucked into his sides to ward off any damaging shots to the midriff.

Benn is attacking with the heavy artillery now and gaining more forward momentum – or so it seems to the beered up British fans waving their Union Jack flags and roaring at the top of their lungs every time their man plants his feet on the canvas and digs into Hagler with thudding blows. But the American – a master counterpuncher – is slamming the southpaw jab into Benn’s face and throwing the shorter spiteful shots inside Benn’s wide hooks and marauding attacks.

By the 6th stanza Benn’s facial features are marking up. A welt under his left eye where Hagler’s southpaw right lead has found a home and left its mark. Benn’s nose also bore the evidence of abuse, leaking claret onto his mouth and gumshield.

Benn is slowing down and beginning to look as if he’s running out of ideas. Hagler is coming down off his toes now, stepping to Benn and putting more leverage on his punches. A leaping southpaw lead slams into Benn’s face sending sweat flying into press row. And Benn is forced to back up for the first time in the contest.

In the 7th round Hagler steps up his attack strafing Benn with bursts of three and four punches at a time then taking a step round him to avoid any incoming return fire. Benn goes for broke and tries to blast back but Hagler steps inside a looping right and cracks Benn on the chin with a perfectly timed southpaw left hook to score a knockdown. Benn takes a knee and looks to his corner – a wounded warrior – and manages to unsteadily regain his feet at the count of 8 just as the bell sounds to end the round.

Hagler comes out of his corner to finish the job in the 8th ripping into Benn with a few well placed bursts of destructive ordinance. Hagler unleashes a brace of three hard shots to the head and Benn goes down once more sagging against the ropes. Beaten, bloody, but unbowed – the referee’s intervention saving the brave Englishman from further punishment at 1 minute 34 seconds of the 8th round. The title stays in America.

Epilogue

Marvelous Marvin Hagler is undoubtedly one of the top 4 middleweight champions in history alongside such greats as Carlos Monzon, Harry Greb, and Sugar Ray Robinson. Some regard him as the best ever 160 pound fighter. Regardless of where you place him in the all time middleweight rankings, it is an undeniable fact that he brought an intensity and excitement to the sport not seen today and fought and beat every conceivable challenger who presented a legitimate case for a shot at his lineal title. The Leonard fight is another conversation. He remains a truly outstanding champion the like of which we will never see again.

If anyone asked me who would be a strong ascendant opponent from today’s era to fight a peak Marvin Hagler? I wouldn’t say Gennady Golovkin. I’d probably answer, “How about China?”

 

 

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