Phil Rice

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When Losing is Winning:
Tony Baltazar vs. Howard Davis, Jr.

The mid-1980s represent something of a golden age for televised boxing. ESPN and USA had weekly boxing shows that often included all of the preliminary matches as well as the main events, so fans got a chance to see the up-and-coming fighters alongside the hard-working clubfighters who might not ever get beyond four-round status. HBO and Showtime programs featured big name attractions, and if a fan watched the cable listings closely, other boxing shows could be found on more obscure channels. But cable television was new and, though the technology was spreading at an enormous rate, as late as 1984 the majority of homes in the United States still picked up their television signal via antennae, which meant their viewing options consisted of ABC, NBC, CBS, and sometimes PBS.

The good news for the boxing fans without cable was that some of the sports' biggest match-ups were still shown live on network telecasts for free, though the viewer was usually forced to wait through various competitions, such as figure skating or skeet shooting, to get to the boxing match. And this is why Sunday, February 22, 1983 found me sitting in front of the television with CBS Sports Sunday on the screen. The telecast featured an indoor track meet, which was not something that would have normally appealed to my tastes but I was willing to keep the show on in anticipation of the intriguing boxing match being offered afterwards. Howard Davis, Jr. was set to box Tony Baltazar in a lightweight match-up.

Davis was a well-known athlete even to the casual sports fan because he had won a gold medal in the 1976 Olympics and had received the Val Barker Award as the outstanding boxer at those games. Afterwards he was considered a star-in-the-making and accordingly signed a huge contract with CBS Sports, but unlike his teammates Ray Leonard, John Tate, Leo Randolph, and brothers Leon and Michael Spinks, as of 1983 Davis had yet to fulfill his promise by winning a professional world championship. Not that he hadn't tried. In 1980 he traveled to Scotland to wrest the WBC crown from Jim Watt, but Watt retained the title with a unanimous decision.

Following his loss to Watt, Davis fought sporadically against good but carefully chosen opponents. With his record stalled at 21-1, he was now looking to drum up interest in a title shot against Ray Mancini, who had won the WBA title from Arturo Frias in an exciting one-round donnybrook. Mancini, a power puncher with a tough chin and enormous heart, was a popular champion and a television favorite, but most boxing insiders gave the slick boxing Davis a comfortable edge in the match-up. Conventional wisdom suggested that Mancini's only chance would be to land a knockout punch, and Davis's skills were considered more than up to the task of keeping him out of harm's way while he piled up the points with combinations from the outside.

In the midst of the build-up to a possible Davis-Mancini battle steps Tony "The Tiger" Baltazar. According to the pre-fight commentary, the fundamental elements of a classic boxer versus puncher encounter were present: a highly skilled defensive master with quick feet and fast hands against a powerful and presumably plodding tough guy with a big punch. The fact that the flashy boxer had shown a questionable chin in previous fights added the necessary element of suspense to the match-up, but the odds still heavily favored the supremely-skilled boxing master over the rugged slugger.

On paper Baltazar was an obvious choice as a tune-up for Davis because he brought many of the same weapons into the ring as Mancini—he was a tough power puncher with an excellent left hook who could be expected to last the distance in a losing effort. To again borrow the old boxing cliché, he only had a puncher's chance in the contest. At least that is what the boxing pundits suggested going into the bout. But, unbeknownst to most of the television viewers, "The Tiger" was much more than a rough brawler. The first clue came when commentator Gil Clancy mentioned that Baltazar "had a great amateur background. He was the National AAU champion . . . ."

Once the bell for round one rang, the Olympic champion began to discover what patrons of the Olympic Auditorium in Los Angeles had known for years—that Tony Baltazar was a well-trained, fine-tuned fighting machine with good defensive skills. And, as advertised, he also had power to spare.

My casual round-by-round summary of the fight:

The fight is officially scored on the round system with a supplemental points system to be used in the event of a draw. Because I was, as a fan, pulling for Baltazar, my scoring gives Davis the benefit of the doubt on the close rounds to offset my favoritism. My scorecard shows the fight even at 5 rounds apiece. Using the supplemental scoring system, Baltazar wins 45-43, thanks to the two knockdowns. But the official scorecards were 7-3, 8-2, and 5-4-1 for Davis, thus rendering the supplemental scoring system moot. The Olympic champion is still on course for a title shot.

Baltazar shakes his head when he hears the lopsided scoring as if he senses what is about to happen. When the final verdict in favor of Davis is announced he looks over at Frank Baltazar, his father and chief second, who flashes a cynical and resigned expression that seems to say "well son, we knew you'd have to knock him out to get the win."
 

Despite being on the victorious end of a highly debatable verdict (most observers felt Baltazar earned the victory), Howard Davis, Jr. proved that he was not only a brilliant boxer but that he possessed a champion's heart. He received more than he bargained for in his opponent this day—Baltazar was clearly a more complete fighter than Mancini—and he had weathered the storm admirably. He had also showed a willingness to get into the trenches and trade punches if necessary, though that was certainly not his preference.

His flawed performance made a fight with Mancini even more intriguing, but it never happened. When he did get another title shot it was against Edwin Rosario for the WBC title. Rosario was a skillful boxer-puncher with good power, and he was at the peak of what would prove to be his athletic prime. Davis lost a split decision, with two knockdowns—both from left hooks—making the difference in the scoring. He retired in 1996 with his goal of becoming a World Champion in the pro ranks unfulfilled, but his legacy of being one of the finest amateur boxers ever to lace up the gloves remains untarnished.

Stepping in against Howard Davis marked the big-time debut for Tony Baltazar, and his outstanding performance instantly elevated him to genuine contender status. As he would further demonstrate in subsequent fights, Baltazar possessed a professional demeanor, a sturdy chin, a tremendous heart, great power, and one of the best left hooks in the sport. Just five months after the Davis fight he was in the ring with Robin Blake, a tall power puncher who was receiving tons of media exposure. Baltazar and Blake traded bombs back and forth in one of the most exciting fights of the year. Once again Baltazar raised his stock in a losing effort, this time by ninth round technical knockout.
 

Unfortunately, like Davis, Baltazar never brought home a world title, but his resume is littered with victories over world-class opponents, most notably a decision victory over Roger Mayweather in 1984. Regardless of such baubles, "Tony the Tiger" proved that he was one of the best lightweights of his generation. Howard Davis, one must assume, would agree with that assessment.

More so than probably any other sport, assessing a boxer's career by looking at the final tally of wins and losses barely provides even a clue as to the athlete's true worth. Perhaps that's a point for the rest of us—that simple two dimensional analyses are ultimately superficial and deceptive. On February 22, 1983, Howard Davis, Jr. was awarded a victory, and from that day forward Tony Baltazar carried an "L10" on his record. But the story is much deeper and richer than those simple facts illustrate. The story is one of growth and fortitude, of living and breathing. And so it is that a single boxing match in the career of two legendary pugilists can stand as a definitive moment for each, regardless of whose hand was raised after the final bell.