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Oscar De La Hoya. Oba Carr. Zab Judah.
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A group of names etched in my memory from high school days playing “Knockout Kings” in 2001. I didn’t know it then, but Judah would go on to become my favorite fighter in the sport that would soon consume my life (and eventually my career).
I wasn’t familiar with Carr or Judah at the time, but their unique names caught my attention. My knowledge of boxing was limited, though Mike Tyson was one of my favorite athletes (I was introduced to him as a 4-year-old watching my dad play “Punch-Out!!” in Brooklyn). When Tyson’s knockout highlights were played on “SportsCenter” — a program I was obsessed with — I watched them over and over.
But besides a Tyson bout here and there and occasionally “Friday Night Fights,” my focus was centered on the NFL, NHL, MLB and WWF.
That all changed when Tyson signed to face Lennox Lewis in 2002, a superfight that shattered the pay-per-view record and captured the imagination of sports fans across the globe in a way few bouts have since. I was mesmerized by the pre-fight hype, the theatrics and, of course, Tyson’s incendiary remarks directed toward Lewis at every turn.
I consumed every bit of content surrounding the fight. The beatdown at the hands of Lewis as trainer Emanuel Steward pleaded with his charge to “put this motherfucker away” didn’t deter my interest in boxing. After all, I was used to heartbreak as a diehard fan of the Washington Redskins and New York Knicks. I was hooked.
Tyson would compete three more times, including upset losses to journeymen Danny Williams and Kevin McBride (I was in attendance in Washington D.C., for the latter, Iron Mike’s final fight). Even before those defeats, it was clear Tyson wouldn’t be around boxing for too much longer. I needed a fighter to live and die by; that fighter was Zab Judah.
By the time 2003 rolled around, my affinity for boxing blossomed into a full-blown obsession. I never missed a fight on HBO or Showtime. That year I saw advertisements on HBO for a fight between Judah and DeMarcus “Chop Chop” Corley. Where did I know the name? Ah, yes. “Knockout Kings.”
The more I researched Judah, the more I liked him. He was flashy, headstrong and he wore his heart on his sleeve. I was always drawn to charismatic, cocky athletes (Deion Sanders is my all-time favorite outside of boxing). Judah fit the bill perfectly.
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The lightning-quick hand speed. The crackling power from the trademark right uppercut he could uncork seemingly out of nowhere. The bravado.
Judah eked out a split decision over Corley to regain a piece of the 140-pound crown. Nine months later, I watched as Judah attempted to become an undisputed welterweight champion in his fight at 147 pounds. Cory Spinks edged him on the cards, but I just knew Judah had it in him to be the best. The talent was obvious. He just needed to put it all together.
“Super” Judah returned one month later (an unthinkable turnaround even in 2004) and struggled to outpoint Rafael Pineda. It was a disappointing performance, but Judah was on his way to another title shot in the future. That fall, I was a freshman at George Mason University in Virginia (a few miles outside D.C.) but made the trip back to New York to attend my second fight live, Felix Trinidad vs. Ricardo Mayorga.
It remains, to this day, one of the greatest atmospheres I’ve ever experienced at a fight. The night was all the more special because Judah performed in the co-feature, a bludgeoning of no-hoper Wayne Martell with five first-round knockdowns. Martell didn’t even make it to Round 2.
Back at my freshman dorm, watching boxing wasn’t easy. There was no HBO or Showtime, and reliable streams were hard to come by. Fortunately, I became best friends with a fellow freshman on my floor who was also bitten by the boxing bug, and his family lived in the area. I caught countless fights with his family, but I’ll never forget the one I missed live: Zab’s rematch with Spinks.
Fights weren’t available immediately on YouTube then, but it was on the DVR at my friend’s family’s place, and I caught the bout days later, even if the recording ended just before the TKO (you all know the feeling). This time, Judah ended Spinks in the ninth round and became undisputed champion. My guy was finally on top.
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I moved off campus for my sophomore year, and I never had to miss a fight again (save for some of the embarrassing mismatches on PPV; I’m looking at you, Marco Antonio Barrera-Robbie Peden).
When Judah signed for a homecoming title defense against Carlos Baldomir at the Hulu Theater at Madison Square Garden in 2006, I immediately snatched tickets. The fight coincided with winter break, a no-brainer with my family just outside New York City, even if it appeared to be a mismatch.
My friend and I watched our beloved Redskins upend the Tampa Bay Buccaneers on Saturday of wild-card weekend (I’m still waiting for another playoff victory 14 years later) and later that night, settled in for Judah-Baldomir. The Showtime co-feature was one of the best cruiserweight title fights of all time, O’Neil Bell’s knockout of Jean-Marc Mormeck. I figured that was all the drama we’d bear witness to that night. Of course, I was wrong. Looking ahead to a superfight with Floyd Mayweather, Judah somehow lost to Baldomir.
I was shell-shocked. How could such a vastly superior fighter lose to a seemingly ordinary opponent like Baldomir? And now, surely, the Mayweather fight would fall by the wayside. I was confident Judah had the style to give “Pretty Boy” problems with his speed and southpaw style.
This being boxing, the fight still happened as planned. Judah did give Mayweather problems. He was in command over the first three rounds and even dropped Mayweather, though referee Richard Steele missed his glove touching the canvas.
Mayweather, as he always does, figured out his foe and dissected him. The event eventually turned into mayhem. Judah hit Mayweather with a low blow and a rabbit punch. Roger Mayweather rushed the ring. Pandemonium.
One year later, Judah fought Miguel Cotto in another major fight, and I was there, another one of the best fight atmospheres I’ve been privileged to soak in. Cotto was the crowd favorite, but Judah had plenty of supporters too. Again, Judah came up short when I was there in person. I can still feel that gut punch when the fight was stopped, the sensation you experience when your favorite team loses in heartbreaking fashion. I still contend that if it weren’t for that Cotto low blow in Round 1, the Puerto Rican would have been in big trouble. He was reeling from that patented Judah uppercut when the punch south of the border was delivered.
Alas, more heartbreak. A lifetime of suffering as a sports fan prepared me for this. Still, Judah was my guy. He seemingly had a cheat code for unlimited lives. No matter how surprising the defeat, no matter how much he underachieved, Judah was back in a significant fight.
And every time the news broke of his next notable bout, I just knew: this would be the time he proved his greatness. He was already a star in the hip-hop community. His fight with Mayweather dominated conversations on rap stations like “Hot 97” in New York. Judah just resonated.
Fast forward one year after the loss to Cotto and Judah was back in a title bout. He lost again, this time at the hands of Joshua Clottey. Surely he was finished as a main event fighter on HBO, right? Not even close.
He was on the cusp of a title shot in 2010, and by then, I was just starting out my pursuit of a career in boxing.
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I interned at USA Today and was fortunate to assist on the coverage of Paul Williams-Sergio Martinez 1. The following summer, I was studying French in Montreal (the last credits I needed to graduate) and it just so happened that Jean Pascal was set to challenge Chad Dawson for the light heavyweight championship the day after my program was set to end. I extended my stay one day and picked up a freelance assignment for my old newspaper.
Three months later, a second assignment: Judah vs. Lucas Matthysse, a welterweight title eliminator. I wrote a short feature on Judah that ran in the paper days before the fight, and then covered the bout ringside in Newark, N.J. Interviewing Judah at the media workout was a thrill. He earned the nod over Matthysse, who didn’t yet hold the reputation as one of boxing’s most fearsome punchers, and thus, Judah didn’t receive proper credit for the win. The decision was also controversial, but certainly not the robbery some made it out to be. I scored the fight 114-113 for Judah from ringside.
I also covered Judah’s fights against Kaizer Mabuza — a spectacular knockout to regain a 140-pound title at the practice rink of the New Jersey Devils with Mike Tyson in attendance — and Vernon Paris, another victory.
Judah was set to face Danny Garcia in February 2013, and I booked the trip from Los Angeles to New York to cover the fight. Then I broke the news that Garcia suffered a rib injury and the fight was postponed. It was my first major scoop. By the time the fight was rescheduled, I couldn’t make the trip. As a freelancer, I was paying my own way and was forced to eat the cost of the initial booking. Judah, 35, was a sizable underdog in that fight. But in yet another defeat, Judah earned the respect that eluded him from many in boxing, a valiant effort against one of the best fighters in the sport.
I wrote a longer feature on Judah for The Ring Magazine leading into the bout, and finally, I got to know my favorite fighter. I was nervous, of course, but Judah couldn’t have been nicer. We had lunch at his restaurant inside Caesars Palace and then I watched him work out at the UFC gym he owned off the Las Vegas strip.
Over the years, I’ve texted with Judah occasionally and often ran into him at fights. The last time was inside the press center at MGM Grand days before Wilder-Fury 2 in February.
I was standing feet away from him when fellow boxing writer Dan Rafael walked over and said to him, “You know you’re his favorite fighter, right?”
Judah smiled.
He knew.
(Top photo: Elsa / Getty Images)