A History of Boxing in Black & White
By Curtis Scoon
America’s Bicentennial year coincided with a resurgence of popularity in the sport of boxing. The 1976 U.S. Olympic boxing team, featuring future Hall of Famers Sugar Ray Leonard and the Spinks brothers, won five gold medals and was a source of national pride for years to come. Moreover, the box office success of the Hollywood blockbuster Rocky demonstrated America’s undying appreciation for a white champion, even if fictional. The story of an Italian fighter from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, defeating a black champion against all odds resonated with the mainstream as it always had. So much so, the Rocky franchise has grossed nearly $2 billion worldwide in 47 years. A statue of the fictional protagonist, Rocky Balboa, has been a major tourist attraction in Philadelphia since 1982. It took Philadelphia’s former heavyweight champion, Joe Frazier, more than 40 years after his epic victory over Muhammad Ali, and four years after his death in 2011, to be honored similarly in his own hometown. Such disparities reinforce a belief among Black people that they have to do more, with less, for less—a common sentiment among Black folk that history appears to support. Comedian Chris Rock summed it up with this quote: “The black man gotta fly to get to where a white man can walk.
“The Great White Hope
On December 26, 1908, in Sydney, Australia, heavyweight champion Tommy Burns defended his title against Jack Johnson, aka “The Galveston Giant.” At 6’1” and 212 lbs, the challenger was considerably larger than the 5’7”, 175 lbs champion, Burns. For their efforts, Burns and Johnson were paid $30,000 and $5,000, respectively. To his credit, Burns was the first white heavyweight champion to give a title shot to a black challenger. A previous champion, Jim Jeffries, opted to retire undefeated rather than fight a black man. Although Baltimore lightweight Joe Gans became the first black world champion in 1902, the heavyweight title remains the pinnacle of prize fighting to this day. As the heavyweights go, so does the sport.
The ostentatious Johnson was deemed a scourge in the media for both his skin color and his audacious antics, taunting white champions to get a title shot. He boldly did this during the height of “Jim Crow” laws in America. Racial segregation was the rule, not the exception, which contributed to the fight taking place in Australia. Moreover, the heavyweight title was more than a sports trophy. It symbolized and promoted a perception of white superiority that boosted morale among working-class white men everywhere. For your “Joe Public” white man working in coal mines, factories, etc., the image of an invincible white man was critical to their self-worth and identity. Black inferiority was/is necessary for many to not feel like abject failures in a construct where whiteness implies supremacy and success.
There had never been a black heavyweight champion, and many considered Johnson’s challenge a display of insolence. Johnson, with his incredible physique, skill, and power, toyed with the smaller Burns. By Round 14, ringside police had seen enough of the mauling and intervened to save the game Burns from serious injury. So unsettling was the sight of a black man pummeling a white man that the police made sure the motion picture cameras stopped recording before they ended the fight.
In the aftermath of Johnson’s triumph, a call went out for a “Great White Hope” to restore the honor of the white race. In 1910, none other than undefeated, former heavyweight champ Jim Jeffries came out of retirement to pick up the gauntlet. Jeffries explained coming out of retirement to white America by stating, “I am going into this fight for the sole purpose of proving a white man is better than a Negro.” Furthermore, the vaunted New York Times published an editorial addressing the matchup between Jeffries and Johnson with these repulsive words:
“If the black man wins, thousands and thousands of his ignorant brothers will misinterpret his victory as justifying claims to much more than mere physical equality with their white neighbors. If the Negro loses, the members of his race will be taunted and irritated [provoked] because of their champion’s downfall.”
As if ordained by the Heavens, Jack Johnson defeated the “Great White Hope,” Jim Jeffries, on, of all days, the Fourth of July, 1910, in what was billed as “The Fight of The Century.” After a 15th-round stoppage, the modest Jeffries later admitted in an interview that he could have never beaten Johnson—not even in his prime. This level of respect between pugilistic adversaries is not uncommon after meeting in the ring. It supersedes race because only they truly understand what it takes to climb those three steps to enter the ring.
History presents Johnson as a fearless black man who thumbed his nose at a racist American society in a grand battle for black self-determination—a race warrior who would leave hostile arenas with his white woman in tow after defeating “white knights” sent into battle. It makes for great cinema but is far more fiction than fact. The truth of the matter is Johnson’s promoters for “The Fight of The Century,” Tex Rickard and John Gleason, along with his manager George Little, were white men who kept their asset safe and profited immensely from racial acrimony. There was simply too much value in keeping Johnson alive at a time when blacks were lynched with impunity for much less. Historically, black men in America are permitted to be “successful” so long as their success enriches others even more. At its core, racism is always about economics for the rich and gratifying emotions for the poor.
The advent of a black heavyweight champion revealed new levels of profit potential derived from interracial conflict in the sport. So much so, that for the first five years of his reign, Johnson didn’t fight another black fighter. The purse bid guarantee for his fight against Jeffries was $101,000—the equivalent of $3,355,379 today. An unimaginable sum for a boxing match at that time, considering there were no TV rights nor pay-per-view. There’s nothing like “green” to make some people look past “black & white.” In the wake of Johnson’s groundbreaking accomplishment, black fighters found greater acceptance and quickly began to dominate. In many respects, Johnson paved the way for all crossover black celebrities in sports and entertainment by demonstrating the financial potential. Once promoters prioritized black champions, white fans found them more acceptable. Contrary to promoted narratives, black talent has always been enjoyed by the mainstream if presented properly. White fans eventually embraced black fighters such as Joe Louis and arguably the greatest fighter of all time, Sugar Ray Robinson. The key to such acceptance is finding a narrative that resonates with the paying public. Skillful promoters can sell water to a fish. Ultimately, promoters determine how fighters are marketed to fans. That is the essence of promotion.
When black American Joe Louis faced German Max Schmeling in their rematch in 1938 for his title, the pride of a nation entered the ring with Louis, aka “The Brown Bomber.” Schmeling, too, had become a reluctant symbol for his homeland, where the Nazis were in power and would begin World War II the following year. Louis avenged his loss and defended his title in stunning fashion with a first-round knockout, making the American people proud in the process. A remarkable contrast from when a black man became champion, sparking nationwide race riots thirty years earlier in 1908.
“Float like a butterfly sting like a bee…”
After serving three years and eleven months in prison for taking a man’s life, Cleveland gangster and racketeer Don King walked out of prison a free man in 1971. In a bid to reinvent himself, King promoted an exhibition boxing match to raise money for a local hospital. Through a mutual acquaintance, [singer Lloyd Price], King was able to secure former heavyweight champ Muhammad Ali for this charitable endeavor. Ali had made quite a name for himself while King was in prison. His refusal to fight in the Vietnam War as a conscientious objector due to his religious beliefs made him a hero to the counterculture movement of the 1960s. Consequently, his membership in the black supremacist “Nation of Islam” made him a polarizing figure along racial and ideological lines in America. However, it was perhaps Ali’s loss against ‘Smokin’ Joe Frazier in their version of the “Fight of The Century” the year King exited prison that contributed to his availability for King’s philanthropic affair. Ali was also in need of image repair, as mainstream and middle America viewed him as radical and unpatriotic. That connection to King would put Ali at the epicenter of some of the greatest bouts in history and permanently stamp him as “The Greatest.”
In the sport of boxing there are many champions but only one King…
Two short years after promoting Ali in an exhibition, Don King put together the historic “Rumble in the Jungle,” where Ali faced heavyweight champion George Foreman for his title in Kinshasa, Zaire. King did this with the help of Zairian President Mobutu Sese Seko. Mobutu bankrolled the fight with the wealth of his mineral-rich nation. The fighters were offered $5,000,000 each—double what Redskins owner Jack Kent Cooke paid Ali and Frazier for their historic clash. Mobutu was a tyrannical dictator and suspected CIA asset for his role in the death of his mentor and Soviet ally, Patrice Lumumba. Entertainment extravaganzas have long been tools of distraction for oppressed masses in third-world nations, similar to the Romans and their “bread and circuses.” An event of the magnitude of the “Rumble in the Jungle” could legitimize Zaire to the international community. A price tag in the tens of millions was a paltry sum for that level of public relations.
The “Rumble in the Jungle” placed Don King atop the “throne” of the sport. So successful was the event that fighters stateside lined up to work with him upon his return. His reputation for paying black fighters, in particular, more money than they had ever earned helped him corner the market with the biggest names in boxing—primarily black heavyweights. In 1975, for his encore to Zaire, King promoted the “Thriller in Manila,” paying opponents Muhammad Ali a whopping $9,000,000 and Joe Frazier $5,000,000 for the capstone of boxing’s iconic trilogy. Much like Mobutu in Zaire, President Ferdinand Marcos of the Philippines was a staunch anti-communist ally and rumored CIA asset in the region. CIA headquarters for Southeast Asia just so happens to be in Manila. Marcos sought to shift focus from the martial law he imposed several years prior by sponsoring a grandiose entertainment event. It remains unexplained how Don King, a local gangster and convicted killer from Cleveland, Ohio, gained access to ruthless dictators on the world stage. Also worthy of scrutiny is King’s long friendship with George H.W. Bush and the Bush family. Bush was Director of the CIA for one year during the 1970s before later becoming Vice President and eventually President of the United States.
After the “Thriller in Manila,” King set his eyes on network television back home. He sold the concept for a tournament called the United States Boxing Championship to ABC president Roone Arledge, best known for constructing the NFL’s Monday Night Football franchise. The tournament would crown undisputed American champs in all weight classes and be the centerpiece of programming for ABC’s popular Wide World of Sports show. To legitimize the matches, King partnered with Ring Magazine for trustworthy rankings to ensure competitive matchmaking. After allegations of fraudulent rankings and falsified records of fighters, ABC pulled the plug on the tournament, leaving King’s reputation bruised and no network to back him. For most promoters, this would’ve been the death knell for their career, but not for King. As one door closed, another surely opened. In those days, network television was the primary outlet for visual content. However, the cable industry was in its infancy and positioning itself to surpass the networks, with boxing playing a major role.
Understanding the significance of the heavyweight division, Don King had to find a replacement for a declining Muhammad Ali to sell his fights. Historically, heavyweight championship fights were the pinnacle of the sport, and as the heavyweights go, the sport follows. Every pivotal moment in King’s career involved Muhammad Ali, but Ali was nearing the end of his run. King honed in on Ali’s sparring partner, Larry Holmes. Holmes routinely dominated Ali in sparring, so King knew his potential. Nevertheless, Holmes was a hard sell, and ABC passed on his fight against Mike Weaver. For $150,000, the fledgling HBO network stepped in to save the promotion. Thus began King’s symbiotic 13-year relationship with HBO. Once again, King proved to be in the right place at the right time.
By 1982, there was another Great White Hope on the horizon, and his name was Gerry Cooney. Cooney was a big, strapping Irishman from Long Island who, despite being left-handed, fought from the orthodox stance, giving him a powerful left jab and hook. After demolishing former champ Ken Norton in one round, his challenge of the unpopular Holmes was set for June 11, 1982, to be telecast on HBO. The network was rapidly expanding, and, per usual, racial combat was must-see TV. Even President Ronald Reagan had a direct line set up in Cooney’s dressing room to congratulate him after his anticipated victory. Cooney’s team placed the slogan, “Not the white man but the right man,” on their team outfits. Holmes felt disrespected and unappreciated going into the fight. Both champion and challenger received $10,000,000 for the bout. Holmes persevered by stopping Cooney in the 13th round, dashing all hopes of a Hollywood ending like the movie Rocky.
A vainglorious champion the likes of Muhammad Ali was a tough act for Larry Holmes to follow, despite beating every challenger placed before him, including Ali. Holmes’ final hurdle to greatness was the undefeated record of the last white heavyweight champion, and real-life Rocky—Rocky Marciano. Marciano’s 49-0 heavyweight record stands to this day. Having vanquished one “white hope” in the ring, Holmes embarked on a mission to eclipse the legacy of the most celebrated white champion of all time. Standing in his way was Michael Spinks of the storied 1976 Olympic team. Spinks had become light heavyweight champion as a pro but was attempting to be the first to move up and become champion in both divisions. In a controversial unanimous decision, Spinks was awarded the victory over the heavily favored Holmes, who was left seething in the post-fight interview. When asked about Marciano’s record, Holmes responded, “I’m 35, fighting young men. Rocky was 25, fighting old men. To be technical, Rocky couldn’t carry my jock strap.” Holmes is a lot of things, but a liar he is not. This and other unflattering statements about Marciano won Holmes no fans. Following his controversial loss to Spinks in the rematch, Holmes had this to say to HBO commentator Larry Merchant: “I can say to the judges, the referees… the promoters… to kiss where the sun don’t shine, and since we’re on HBO, that’s my big black behind.”
The baddest man on the planet…
Nothing can satiate the casual fan’s bloodlust like a heavyweight knockout artist. Make no mistake about it, the overwhelming majority of fight fans are not purists. They tune in for brutal violence. Right around the time Holmes was losing his bouts to Spinks, there was a young phenom fighting out of Catskills, New York, named Michael Gerard Tyson, or Iron Mike as the world came to know him. The self-proclaimed “baddest man on the planet” hailed from Brooklyn, New York. Tyson found himself upstate in youth detention due to a troubled childhood. There, he was discovered by legendary trainer Cus D’Amato. Training a fighter is one thing, but financially backing a career is another matter. For that end of things, D’Amato enlisted Bill Cayton and Jimmy Jacobs as managers. The duo had been around boxing in various capacities for decades. In Tyson, D’Amato felt he had another heavyweight champion—his first being Floyd Patterson. Cus eventually adopted Tyson after his mother passed. Tyson exhibited early signs of mental fragility and lack of impulse control, which became his signature in later years. There was an incident with an underage female relative of trainer Teddy Atlas that was never properly addressed, legally or therapeutically. Being under Cus D’Amato’s tutelage was a double-edged sword. Tyson’s knowledge and proficiency in his craft came at the expense of his personal growth and development. The Hebrew word golem comes to mind when studying Tyson’s early career— a mindless, one-dimensional automaton.
Iron Mike’s rise through the heavyweight ranks was meteoric. He had 15 fights in 9 months in 1985, but sadly, he’d lose his mentor and trainer, Cus D’Amato, that year. In spite of the loss, he proceeded to become the youngest heavyweight champion in history over Trevor Berbick. His relationship with his managers, Jacobs and Cayton, declined without Cus to mediate. Despite Jacobs’ odd penchant for kissing Tyson on the mouth in the ring after fights, there was a growing disconnect. According to Don King’s son, Carl, in his interview for Born to Box, Tyson had to ask for access to his money like a child. This and other things pushed Tyson closer to King. Tyson even sued the no-nonsense Cayton after Jacobs’ passing to get out of his contract and officially replace Cayton with the elder King.
Control of Mike Tyson meant King controlled the top draw in the sport, a position he grew accustomed to. It also gave him a considerable advantage over his competition in network negotiations. There were other promoters, such as the Duvas, Cedric Kushner, Butch Lewis, Murad Muhammad, and King’s chief rival in the business, Bob Arum, but none were a match for King. Arum’s introduction to boxing began as an attorney in the Department of Justice investigating corruption in the sport. In that capacity, Arum gained great insight into the revenue potential of the business. He was later introduced to Muhammad Ali by NFL great Jim Brown in the mid-60s. After a meeting with the leader of the Nation of Islam, Elijah Muhammad, Arum was approved to represent Ali. Without that approval, it would not have happened. Remarkably, Ali was instrumental in jump-starting both fierce competitors, King and Arum, in the business.
HBO’s PPV arm, TVKO, launched in 1990. This was an effort to corner the boxing market and rout its competitors, like Showtime Championship Boxing. The goal was to bring all the big promoters in the sport under one banner, making it easier for cross-promotional matchmaking. HBO’s Seth Abraham had major leverage in this proposal because all promoters need distribution. However, Don King was unwilling to include Mike Tyson in this arrangement. Tyson was a bigger draw than all the other fighters combined. Fighting on his undercard could make any fighter a household name. It did precisely that for Christy Martin and women’s boxing. It did the same for Julio Cesar Chavez and Mexican fighters, who were commercial non-factors in the sport prior to King. They were deemed too small, and there was also a language barrier. King understood his power, and he wasn’t trying to share it. Excluding Tyson strained the relationship between Abraham and King. HBO’s Larry Merchant coverage of Tyson became increasingly abrasive on-air. Things got so bad that Tyson demanded Merchant not work his fights. Abraham, the network boss, sided with Merchant, the commentator, and effectively sent the two biggest names in the sport packing in a move clearly meant to put Don King and Mike Tyson in their place. Capitalism teaches us the only color that matters is “green,” but HBO and Abraham showed us that who controls the money is more important than the money itself.
Don King and Mike Tyson took their business to Showtime Championship Boxing once their contract was over. The first match on Showtime was a bout with Donavon “Razor” Ruddock in March 1991. Ruddock was a feared puncher, and the match did not disappoint, but it ended in controversy when referee Richard Steele stopped it. The rematch was set for June 28, 1991, at the Mirage Hotel and Casino. It was my first time attending a major fight live, and nothing comes close. The fight took place in an outdoor arena behind the casino. Sitting on the equivalent of bleacher seats, I imagined what it must’ve been like to watch gladiators engage in combat in the Roman Coliseum. The fight was brutal. Ruddock suffered three broken ribs and a broken jaw. There was no controversy that night, and the fight was the highest-grossing PPV fight at the time, with no title on the line. Don King pulled it off, yet again.
Not even a full month after his victory over Razor Ruddock, Mike Tyson found himself in trouble with the law. Charged with rape, he was eventually convicted and sentenced to prison. In Tyson’s absence, King pivoted and made Mexican welterweight Julio Cesar Chavez his marquee fighter. King doesn’t get enough credit for the brilliance of this move. It expanded boxing’s market share with an influx of new fans spending plenty of “dinero” to support “La Raza.” Per usual, all promoters followed his blueprint. The importance of Mexican fighters and fans to the sport cannot be dismissed. Mexican fighter Saul “Canelo” Alvarez is currently the top draw in the sport, and the foundation for that began with Don King.
King boosted subscriptions for Showtime just as he did for HBO, and things were going well despite Tyson’s incarceration. He successfully entered an agreement with the recently opened MGM Grand in Las Vegas to host his fight cards. Upon Tyson’s release, King signed an exclusive six-fight site deal with the MGM to host his fights. The deal also allowed King to keep the lion’s share of the gate receipts, which was unheard of. Additionally, King received an interest-free loan to buy stock in the MGM that was guaranteed to double in value in two years. Simply put, the man is a business genius. Tyson fought a string of easy opponents for $25,000,000 each. His first opponent was Peter McNeely, a white guy who delivered pizzas. Muhammad Ali did the same thing, for the same reason, when he fought Jerry Quarry in his first fight back from his suspension. Nothing sells boxing like race in America because there’s a racial undertone to everything. Tyson’s fight with McNeely lasted less than a round before his corner intervened after he hit the canvas twice. The charade came to an end when he fought Holyfield, and in the rematch, it only got worse. Tyson had a meltdown in the ring and bit off a piece of Holyfield’s ear. The bout ended in a disqualification, and Tyson was banned by the Nevada Athletic Commission. Nowadays, Tyson repeatedly accuses King of robbing him, when in reality, he and King made out like bandits selling fights like the McNeely fight to the public. Tyson’s suspension ended a lucrative deal for King with the MGM and forced him to sell his 615,557 shares of MGM stock.
The fiasco at the MGM with Tyson and Holyfield marked the beginning of a slow descent for Don King. He would never dominate the sport as he once had. In 2013, his last remaining champion, IBF light heavyweight Tavoris Cloud, lost the title to Bernard Hopkins. At the post-fight press conference, Hopkins, who is Black, gloated about ‘putting Don King out of boxing.’ In a shameful display of sycophancy, Hopkins took gleeful pride in doing what none of King’s white rivals in the sport had managed to do over the course of decades. When asked about this, Don King’s son, Carl, had this to say: ‘There’s one thing niggers and white folk have in common… they both hate niggers.”
The last man standing…
After winning a gold medal at the 1992 Summer Olympics, Los Angeles native Oscar De La Hoya, aka “The Golden Boy,” chose Bob Arum and Top Rank to promote his professional career. With his movie-star looks, fluency in English, Mexican heritage, and incredible fighting skills, Arum struck gold of his own. With Arum, De La Hoya became the highest-grossing non-heavyweight of his time. As is customary in boxing, when the winning stops, the relationship sours. Losses to Shane Mosley and Felix Trinidad caused the promoter and fighter to have differences regarding his future. As a result, De La Hoya took legal action to sever business ties. Upon winning the case, he foolishly proclaimed, “I defeated the biggest Jew to come out of Harvard.” Poor judgment on his part, but only an indicator of things to come. De La Hoya eventually started his own promotional company and worked closely with Al Haymon, whose foray into boxing began with De La Hoya’s Olympic teammate, Vernon Forrest. Haymon, like Don King, hails from Cleveland, Ohio. He is popularly known for promoting the Budweiser Super Fest music tours of the 1980s. Haymon worked in a managerial role for many fighters signed to Golden Boy Promotions, but it was his relationship with Floyd Mayweather that catapulted both to the top of the boxing hierarchy.
In a sit-down with Dan Le Batard and Bomani Jones of ESPN’s “Highly Questionable,” Bob Arum recounts the time he got Floyd Mayweather out of a jam. According to Arum, “We were at dinner one night, and I got a call that there was a disturbance at my gym… the disturbance in my gym was that some people came over, with or without the knowledge of James Prince, and proceeded to break a couple of heads of people in Mayweather’s camp with baseball bats. So, the gym was splattered with blood…” The unofficial story circulating for years in boxing circles is that they were stripped naked and then beaten. James Prince was Mayweather’s manager at the time, and according to Arum, he paid Prince $600,000 to make the issue disappear. Normally, a legitimate Jewish businessman and former federal investigator such as Arum would promptly notify the proper authorities and prosecute to the fullest extent of the law in such circumstances, but Arum did not. Apparently, Prince made an impression on Arum because they’ve worked closely ever since. Prince manages most of the Black talent at Top Rank.
Coincidentally, as Floyd Mayweather was going through his tribulations with Top Rank and Bob Arum, Al Haymon was making a name for himself in the sport. In many ways, Haymon is the antithesis of King. Whereas King is flamboyant and loud, Haymon is discreet and stealthy—an enigmatic man who has become the “Keyser Söze” of the boxing world. You hear his name, but you never see him. When Mayweather and Haymon connected, the stage was set for a new era in boxing. Haymon is the mastermind behind Mayweather’s lucrative career. No fighter in the history of the sport has made as much money as Floyd Mayweather, and Haymon is a major reason why. Understandably, Mayweather refers to him as a second father. It all began with a buyout of his contract from Top Rank for $750,000. Mayweather bet on himself, and with Haymon’s guidance, he has never looked back.
The passing of the torch from De La Hoya to Mayweather happened on Cinco de Mayo 2007. Mayweather entered the raucous arena draped in Mexico’s national colors, wearing a sombrero reminiscent of his uncle and trainer, Roger Mayweather, known as the “Mexican Assassin.” Mayweather was willing to be the villain of the sport, and his victory helped him attain superstar status. Mexican opponents became his blueprint for financial reward. As for De La Hoya, his defeat had the opposite effect, as his personal life unraveled. Later that year, racy photos of De La Hoya in high heels and women’s lingerie were published by the New York Post. Subsequent stints in rehab had unintended consequences for De La Hoya and set the stage for a “punch” he never saw coming. Al Haymon and a large contingent of Golden Boy fighters left Golden Boy to begin Premier Boxing Champions, more commonly known as PBC.
The last thing anyone wanted was another “Don King” to contend with. PBC was promptly hit with lawsuits from rivals Golden Boy and Top Rank. Haymon was accused of violating the Muhammad Ali Boxing Reform Act by functioning as both manager and promoter. Ironically, the law was created to curtail Don King. PBC’s competitors tried everything to undermine the “new kid on the block.” HBO’s Jim Lampley predicted PBC wouldn’t last, but it was he who didn’t last, as HBO left boxing not long after. Boxing media loyal to Bob Arum and/or Oscar De La Hoya maintained a relentless campaign of either ignoring PBC fighters or disparaging them. This coincided with efforts to prioritize Latino and Eastern European fighters. A blatant strategy of undermining Black American fighters to undermine Black promoters and managers emerged. In the ongoing war to control boxing’s economy, Black fighters are collateral damage.
ESPN’s Mike Coppinger wrote in 2022, “Terence Crawford accuses Bob Arum of bias favoring white and Latino fighters in a lawsuit against Top Rank.” ESPN is the host network for Top Rank. Crawford ultimately withdrew his lawsuit, but he is a case study for how the tactic works. Promising welterweight Rashidi Ellis left Golden Boy for PBC because, despite being undefeated, the fights stopped coming. The racial bias isn’t limited to fighters, managers, and promoters but extends to trainers as well. Roger Mayweather and Floyd Mayweather Sr. have never been named “Trainer of the Year,” despite training the biggest name in the sport this century, Floyd Mayweather Jr. Freddie Roach, on the other hand, won Trainer of the Year seven times between 2003 and 2014, despite being diagnosed with Parkinson’s in 1990. How a man with a progressive neurodegenerative disorder performs at such high levels with elite athletes is anyone’s guess. Roger Mayweather worked his nephew’s corner against Roach for the Pacquiao and De La Hoya fights. In both fights, Team Mayweather won.
Throughout all the criticism, Al Haymon hasn’t said a word publicly. He doesn’t do interviews, and the internet is scrubbed of his images. The man doesn’t even attend his own events to avoid attention. Whether this is done as a precaution or not, it shouldn’t be this way. This is a man who takes care of all of his fighters, regardless of race or ethnicity. Mexican fighter Leo Santa Cruz even named his son after him. The mother of Puerto Rican fighter Prichard Colon recently praised Al Haymon for his generosity regarding her son’s medical expenses over the past nine years. Colon suffered a brain injury during a PBC fight. There are many stories of Haymon tending to fighters long after their careers are over.
Boxing is a microcosm of the world today—a hierarchical order divided along racial and ethnic lines to ensure the right people control the vast economy of the sport. Neither Al Haymon nor Don King fits the acceptable profile in the sport, regardless of how much they pay fighters or keep the sport going. While race may play a role in the control of the sport, boxing has had interracial friendships among former combatants in racially charged matches. Jack Johnson was friends with Stanley Ketchel and Joe Choynski. Max Schmeling and Joe Louis became really good friends after their epic matches. Schmeling even helped pay for Louis’s funeral. Gerry Cooney and Larry Holmes are close friends to this day. Shakespeare wrote, “All the world’s a stage,” and in the sport of boxing, the fighters are just bit players on that stage.
Currently, the entire boxing establishment, with the exception of PBC, is groveling at the feet of “Saudi advisor at the Royal Court,” Turki Alalshikh. Observing them gratuitously refer to him as “Your Excellency” in hopes of a payday is priceless comedy. Meanwhile, in America, a white “YouTuber” named Jake Paul earns more money than 99% of professional boxers for pummeling Black opponents in exhibitions. He is the equivalent of Rocky Balboa for his generation. There’s a perverse satisfaction derived from seeing Black men lose. The blonde-haired Paul has figured out the blueprint. For his most recent “fight,” he took on boxing’s “baddest man on the planet,” Mike Tyson. For those who have seen this “movie” before, the outcome was no surprise. Jake Paul was paid a reported $40,000,000, and Tyson received half of that for a losing effort. The names and faces may change, but the game remains the same.
Curtis Scoon is the founder of the independent media platform scoontv.com and the producer of the boxing docuseries borntoboxfilm.com. Download the ScoonTV App today for all the news you can use.
