By Jason Peck: Kelly Pavlik won’t last long as middleweight champion, if his fans have their way. That’s because immediately after winning the titles, they called for him to gain a few pounds and fight super-middleweight champ Joe Calzaghe. It’s all part of a common misconception that boxing excellence means fighting in multiple weight classes..
Ricky Hatton bought into it, and seriously damaged his credibility at welterweight where he didn’t belong. And fighters such as Roy Jones Jr. and Bernard Hopkins only truly etched their names in history when they moved up in weight to fight at heavyweight and light heavyweight, respectively.
Which raises the question: What’s wrong with fighting at a single weight class? What about guys like Marvin Hagler, Bob Foster and Kostya Tszyu – fighters who spent titles at a single weight? When in Willie Pep’s name did holding belts at different weights become proof positive of excellence?
More and more people are buying it. Throughout history, relatively few fighters won in multiple divisions because there were fewer titles – and fewer divisions – available. It’s quite different from today, and can make comparisons of the all-time greats somewhat misleading.
But the belief is wrong because of a simpler, more basic fact: Not all weight classes are created equal. Some are less competitive than others, meaning that moving up could actually be far easier that staying put.
Generally, speaking, the older the weight class, the more settled in the fighters are. Just about any fighter out there, for instance, can tell you of the huge gap in punching power between junior middleweight (established 1962) and middleweight (first fought in 1884). A world of difference exists between super-flyweight (established 1980) and bantamweight (established 1890), despite a mere three pounds. And obviously, there exists a huge gap between cruiserweight (established 1980) and heavyweight (1885) – why do you think Al Cole never won the heavyweight title?
Over the decades, many weight classes have emerged between the originals and become transitional classes. Many fighters are perfectly suited for them – Mikkel Kessler, for instance, is very well-suited for super middleweight. But for the most part, the average super-middleweight could easily fight at either middleweight or light heavyweight. They don’t because (and I know Joe Calzaghe fans will comment) the super-middleweight division is simply less competitive. It lacks the history; with few exceptions it therefore lacks the money and talent.
That’s why weight switching doesn’t always mean you’re dealing with a great fighter. For example –
Fabrice Tiozzo won the WBC light heavyweight belt from Mike McCallum in ‘95. He defended it, then moved up to cruiserweight and took the WBA belt from Nate Miller. Four defenses later he lost it to Virgil Hill in 2000, and moved back to light heavyweight, eventually winning another title at 175 pounds.
So there you have it – Tiozzo is the perfect multiple weight class champion. His spot in the Hall is assured.
But –
Had Tiozzo stayed at light heavyweight back in 1995, he would have faced mandatory challenger Roy Jones Jr. – a far deadlier opponent than the one he scored the cruiserweight title from. Why Tiozzo opted out of the Jones fight is irrelevant; I’m not saying that he did duck a tough fight. But it illustrates the fallacy in thinking – he could have ducked Jones. An obsession with fighting in multiple weight classes makes fighters more opportunistic, and provides an easy means to keep their perfect records.
To cite another example: In 2003, Roy Jones moved up from light heavyweight to heavyweight and took the heavyweight title from John Ruiz. Today it remains his most heralded accomplishment.
But in doing so, he ignored a challenge from light heavyweight challenger Antonio Tarver. What was more difficult – fighting Antonio Tarver at light heavyweight, or fighting John Ruiz at heavyweight? That answer is obvious: Ruiz never challenged Jones. On the other hand, Tarver knocked Jones out.
I cited Bernard Hopkins earlier, and he presents another great example. Aside from his victory over Oscar De La Hoya, Hopkins’s greatest victory is his easy decision win over Tarver, when Hopkins finally moved to light heavyweight after 20 title defenses at middleweight.
But the middleweight reign was obviously more impressive. At 160, Hopkins had lost his last two fights to Jermain Taylor, and many other middleweights would certainly have given the aging champ some grief. But Tarver was hitting 40, and coming off a tough fight with Rocky Balboa. At middleweight, Hopkins had beaten tough, unheralded fighters such as Awtum Echols, Keith Holmes and Segundo Mercado. And if fate hadn’t given Glen Johnson a freak chance of winning the light heavyweight title, we’d never have known how impressive Hopkins’s earlier victory was over Johnson.
Not everyone can pack on the weight. Many fighters are perfectly fine where they are, but too many have been lured from their peak performances for the sake of pride.
Jorge Arce moved to super-flyweight and faced a beat-down from the much-larger Christian Mijares. Today he remains at bantamweight, where I fear disaster lays in wait. Oscar De La Hoya moved to middleweight, where he had absolutely no business being. And time will tell if Felix Trinidad’s decision to gain an additional 10 pounds (beyond the extra weight the natural welterweight already carries) will result in victory against the larger Roy Jones.
So what’s wrong with fighting at a single weight? Nothing. It’s all for show, and show isn’t what boxing needs. We need quality fights, and there’s a lot of weight-shifting that provides pretty wrapping, but little package.