Boxing

 

Time Tunnel: David VS Goliath: The Night Billy Conn Almost KO'd Joe Louis

by B. R. Bearden

28.02 - David VS Goliath. It's the most intriguing match-up in human history, be it a simple shepherd boy with a sling and river stone against a giant in armor or a great small fighter against a great big fighter. It piques our interest, and though we may hope the little guy wins, as someone once said, "The victory doesn't always go to the side with the larger army, but that's the way to bet".

Who can deny it's this match up of skill versus size that will sell the Jones/Ruiz fight? With the ticket sales for Roy's recent fights less than those for heavyweight fringe fighter Joe Mesi, only such a challenge could lure the fans into shelling out more money to watch a Roy Jones fight. Unlike the part-time boxers, full time security guards/teachers/construction works Jones has been fighting, this time he's going in with a man who is good enough to make a living boxing. He's fighting someone who has recognizable names on his career sheet. Ruiz, though no great fighter, holds a belt that has been around the waists of some very good fighters. It' s the first real fight Roy has taken in many years and he deserves some praise for finally stepping up to the plate rather than standing in the warm-up circle, taking practice swings.

It might be fairly offered that Roy is a modern David. He's very skilled, he has speed and good ring instincts. It can't be argued that John Ruiz is the modern Goliath, of course. In the Bible, the giant was the greatest fighter of his army, a renowned warrior of great size and strength. Ruiz is not a giant among the heavyweight, neither in size nor in skill. It's more comparable if a sub-lieutenant in Goliath's army had stood in for him that fateful day and took a hard, round one to the temple. But Ruiz is a legitimate heavyweight and ranked #5 in the world among those who aspire to the real title held by Lennox Lewis.

It's this up-coming fight that put me to thinking about another David/Goliath situation; Billy Conn's challenge for the heavyweight title held by the great Joe Louis. Roy's defenders might like to image he's better than Billy Conn, better than any light heavyweight champion of the past, but honestly if he's compared as an equal to Conn that's very high praise. Billy was every bit as fast as Jones and his heart was never questioned by anyone. Watch the film of his first fight with Louis and you'll see blindingly fast combination, great footwork, and the audacity of a pit bull in attacking the deadly Brown Bomber. As to Joe Louis, any comparison of Ruiz to him is beyond ludicrous; the same number of arms and legs and both are heavyweights and that's as far as it can be taken. Ruiz is heavier than Joe Louis; and Butterbean is heavier than Lennox Lewis and so what? The pounds of weight difference don't offset the tons of skill difference.

Conn's credentials for a shot at Louis's title were solid. He was coming off 19 straight wins. His last loss was a 12 round decision three years earlier. He'd handled the top fighters of his day, including Gus Lesnevich, Bob Pastor, Al McCoy, Young Corbett III, Fritzie Zivic, Babe Risko, and Lee Savold. He had whipped heavyweights Pastor, McCoy, Savold, Gunnar Barlund, and Buddy Knox, three via KO. During his career he defeated 10 men who held titles at some point of their careers.

Conn started his career as a welterweight and fought his way up through the weight classes until he was a serious threat to take the title from the greatest heavyweight champion of them all. At light heavy he was the undeniable king, with no deserving opponent left unfought. Billy Conn was the real thing, a fighter who fought.

Bert Sugar said of Conn's career, "Never fed a schedule of stiffs, Conn took them all on, beating them with his speed of foot, his agility of hand and the balls of a cat burglar." As to his ability, Sugar added, "Conn's consummate boxing skill, with his flashy left hand the center piece, made him a lineal descendant of Gentleman Jim Corbett, the first of the great scientific boxers. Conn could block punches with his arms, elbows and gloves, and further nullify his opponent's punches by 'rolling' with them. Even when hit, Conn had remarkable recuperative powers, having been knocked down only twice in his career and having gotten up both times."

Billy's ring skills were admired by the boxing press of the time. When he took Henry Cooper through 12 punishing rounds, the New York Times said, "Conn was able to do with his rival just about what he pleased." He won 11 of the 12 rounds. He had done the same against Solly Krieger, with the NY Times declaring, "Conn handled his opponent as though he was little more than an animated punching bag for 11 of the 12 rounds." Winning a round against Conn was recognized as an accomplishment.

At the same time, Joe Louis was at the height of his powers. He was a deadly fighting machine in full prime; confident, fearless, and much feared. His opponents often trembled with dread on the way to the ring, treating the distance from the dressing room to the ring as if it was the final walk of Death Row. Louis had the hand speed of a master magician, supporting rapid, accurate combination punching. If an opponent left an opening the width of a boxing glove in his defense Louis would strike like a rattlesnake with punches so devastating that opponents often seemed to freeze in time as their bodies shut down, then collapsed to the floor like old dish rags. He showed no emotion on his face as he stalked his victims and was the greatest finisher of all the heavyweight champions; when he hurt a man, he never let him escape.

The Pittsburgh Kid, as Conn was nicknamed, had supreme confidence in himself, and set his sights on the crown held by Louis. Giving up his own light heavyweight crown, Billy challenged the king of the boxing world. Suddenly, a boxing press which had become jaded on Louis's rapidly depleting list of challengers, Jack Miley dubbing it the "Bum-of-the-Month Club", sat up with interest. Billy Conn wasn't a bum by anyone's measure. He was brave, skilled, and just might have what it took to beat the unbeatable champion. He wasn't a tap and run fighter, either. Conn had KO'd his last four opponents, including heavyweights Buddy Knox and Gunnar Barlund, both in the 8th rounds. No matter the difference in size, Billy Conn would come to fight.

It would be a great little man against a great big man; a spit in the eye of the adage that "a great big man beats a great small man every time". Perhaps, and perhaps not. Conn went into the fight an 11-5 underdog, but it was the closest margin of any Louis opponent since the second fight with Max Schmeling. Some top sports writers picked Conn to win, as did former champions Jimmy Braddock and Fritzie Zivic. Officially Conn came into the fight at 174 pounds against 199 ½ for Louis, but those in the know said he weighed only 167. Either way he was giving up 25+ pounds to Louis, somewhat akin to giving up the first three moves to a master chess player.

The event took place on June 18, 1941 in the old Polo Grounds and a crowd of more than 60,000 paid to see it. They came expecting to see a good fight and left knowing they'd seen one of the best fights in ring history. Sixty years later it stands as the unrivaled example of the light heavyweight champion going for the heavyweight crown. Max Kellerman called Conn's courageous showing against Louis the greatest feat in the history of sports. I would second that with the amendment "in a losing effort". It stands out when compared with other great light heavyweight champions taking the heavyweight champion to task. In the case of Carpentier/Dempsey, Moore/Marciano, Foster/Ali the lighter man won a round or two, but wasn't in command of the fight. With Conn/Louis, the small man not only dominated throughout, but dominated quite possibly the greatest fighter of the heavyweight division.

The first round Conn was tentative and Louis patient; the second was more of the same. But in the third, Conn began striking Louis with his rapier-quick left. Louis had trouble landing solidly and with each exchange Conn's self-confidence, never a minor trait in the man, swelled even more.

As the rounds swirled by in a fight better than any of the 60,000 ticket holders had hoped, Conn put on a show of ring mastery that dazzled even the ringside sports writers who thought they'd seen it all before. He moved in and out, threw blistering combinations, blocked Louis's punches, rolled with them, eluded them, and danced away. By the mid rounds Louis was holding Conn and attempting to muffle his attack. Nobody had expected such a sight, but there it was; Joe Louis was in trouble and clinching.

Louis was losing and he knew it. He couldn't solve the puzzle of Billy Conn; the pieces shifted position too fast to fit them into a picture that made sense. He couldn't catch him to deliver his own bombastic combinations. When he did get him in close and go to the body, Conn slipped away, threw a couple quick strikes to add insult to injury, and danced around him. With the fearlessness of a mongoose, the smaller man bet his speed and skill against the knockout power of the great heavyweight champion. But like the mongoose, he could survive only so long as he could avoid a direct hit.

In the 12th round Conn staggered Louis with a left hook to the jaw. Joe's mouth dropped open and he was clearly hurt. The end was so close Conn could taste it. A prudent man, a man of less courage but more sense, would have contented himself with three more rounds of boxing. Everyone knew of the recuperative powers of Joe Louis. He could be hit, he could be knocked down, but till that point, only Max Schmeling had knocked him out, and that after 12 rounds of staggering punch after staggering punch. Oh, Schmeling had done it, but he was bigger and stronger than Conn. He hit harder. Conn knew it, but in the heat of the moment, with the dazzling victory shining before him, he choose to forget.

In Louis's corner, they held smelling salts under his nose to revive him. His great trainer, Jack Blackburn told him, "You've got to knock him out to win."

In the 13th Conn came out with a do-or-die attitude. He moved in and decided he could trade with Louis and win the greatest prize in boxing. He believed he could knock out Joe Louis. It was a fatal error.

A hard right by Louis snapped Billy's head back. It was followed by one of the swift, lethal combinations for which Joe was renowned. Conn could have run; he should have run. But instead of letting his head clear, brave Billy sailed into Louis with all the audacity, and futility, of a leopard leaping in with a lion. Bert Sugar said, "Conn stood his ground, much like a prisoner lighting a cigarette without a blindfold, unmindful of what fate had in store for him. Louis followed with a volley of rights and lefts to Conn's head. Yet another right to the head spun Conn partway around and he fell, as if he were filmed in slow motion, there to take the ten count like a carney doll waiting to be claimed."

It was the greatest "almost" in boxing history.

Why did Conn throw away a fight he had won so masterfully? He laid it on his Irish heritage, the desire of Irish fighters to finish a fight throwing leather, and caution, to the wind. In his dressing room he said, "What's the use of being Irish if you can't be thick?" It might have been that simple; Conn was too proud to take a title running away.

Later he would joke with Louis, "Why couldn't you let me hold the title for a year or so?" Louis responded, "You had the title for twelve rounds and you couldn't hold on to it."

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