Last week, two-time heavyweight king Floyd Patterson died at age 71. Though a cursory exploration of his boxing career hints at a man known for his defeats, the life lesson of Patterson was that of victory.
Born into an "against all odds" situation in Waco, NC, Patterson was reared on the unforgiving streets of Brooklyn. Unable to find his way as a youth, he spent several years in reformatory institutions. From these beginnings, Patterson rose to become Olympic middleweight champ, the youngest heavyweight champion in history, and the first fighter in his weight class to recover the championship belt.
Because of his famous bouts with the menacing Sonny Liston and the militant Muhammad Ali, Floyd Patterson is unfortunately recalled as a man forced to defend clean living and Christianity against men who were out of his physical league. To paint such a portrait obscures the obstacles Patterson overcame to face these unpopular ring titans.
True, in his "matches" with both Liston and Ali, Floyd carried the hopes of Good Guy America. Keep Sonny and the Mob away from the coveted heavyweight crown. Retrieve the title from black Muslim "Clay" in a canvas crusade on November 22, 1965 in Las Vegas, two years to the day after the nation lost its greatest Catholic fighter, President John F. Kennedy. Both Sisyphean tasks were beyond Patterson's considerable talents, given he stood a mortal six-feet tall and weighed only 188 pounds. Had there been a cruiserweight classification when Floyd fought, he may have dominated it for a dozen years or more.
Yet Floyd was a true success story, a ringside rags-to-riches. Born into a family of 11 children, he turned his life around with the help of tender trainer Cus D'Amato. Consider this — Floyd fought in the Olympics at 156 pounds, but professionally as a heavyweight, a much more challenging transition than that of his successors Ali (who weighed 178 at the Rome Games), Joe Frazier (an Olympic heavyweight), and George Foreman (also a heavy as an amateur). Patterson employed flashing speed of fist and a dangerous leaping hook to remain a competitive heavyweight for all of 15 years. At his retirement in 1972, he was still a top contender capable of giving the best challengers all they wanted.
Floyd was a good sport, and shied from no challenges. When trainer D'Amato advised he not face the burly Liston, who outweighed Floyd by some 30 pounds, Patterson insisted on facing all worthy challengers. Even President Kennedy asked his fellow Catholic not to risk the crown against the former loan shark and union "enforcer" from St. Louis. Floyd sometimes took defeat so hard, he dressed in disguise thereafter. And though Patterson refused to address Ali by his converted name, he was gallant in his 1965 effort to unseat the champ, despite a bad back he threw out early in the bout.
Patterson went on the become New York State Boxing Commissioner, an articulate spokesperson and authority for an often dirty sport. He adopted and managed Tracy Patterson, a contender himself. After he regained his title from Swedish slugger Ingemar Johansson, he penned his autobiography "Victory Over Myself." In the memoir, he sounded off on everything from his lonely childhood to the abandonment he felt when American fans and media embraced the foreign Johansson over their own countryman.
Floyd appeared at benefits for leaders such as Martin Luther King, Jr. He encountered the vandalism of bigoted neighbors when he moved his family into an all-white enclave of Queens. He married a Swede at a time when interracial marriages were pariahs. Inside the ring, he was ever fit, businesslike, and clean. The man with the '50s pompadour emerged from a background that foreshadowed that of Cus D'Amato's last prodigy, Mike Tyson.
So when you remember Patterson, remember for the excitement embodied in the 21-year-old who beat the ageless Archie Moore for the vacant heavyweight crown, the underweight crusader against the ring villains of his day, the man who took the hammer back from Johansson's Thor figure, and a black man trying to provide his family with the best surroundings his ring purses could buy. None of is victorious in every battle, the most telling triumph is often internal.
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