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INGEMAR JOHANSSON 1933-2009
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One of Sweden's greatest
sports heroes dies at 76
of TheColumnists.com
Ingemar Johansson, who died Jan. 30 at age 76 in his native Sweden, spoiled a lot of good times for American fight fans on the night of June 26, 1959, when he started bouncing world heavyweight champion Floyd Patterson all over the canvas and finally finished him off after seven official knockdowns in the third round of their title fight.
Patterson had been mowing down contenders for several years and was an authentic American sports hero--a gold medal winner as a middleweight in the 1952 Olympic Games and the legitmate successor to America's great heavyweight king, Rocky Marciano, who had retired undefeated. Patterson had won Rocky's crown by knocking out the No. 1 contender--an authentic ring legend--Archie Moore, then the light-heavyweight champion of the world.
However, "Ingo" hadn't spoiled any good times for me that night. He'd done that several months earlier when he annhilated my favorite contender for the heavyweight crown, Eddie Machen of Redding, Calif. He did it in one round. Machen was a careful, cautious boxer that opponents hardly ever landed a glove upon. But Ingo had flattened Machen without even mussing up his own hairdo.
So, that's why I figured he might do the same honor for Patterson, a puffed-up light-heavyweight who hopped like a kangaroo when he threw power punches and hid behind a "peek-a-boo" defense when others retaliated. I had a low opinion of Floyd because he had been fighting various "tomato can" contenders like Tommy "Hurricane" Jackson, a halfwit who could barely tie his own shoes; Roy Harris, a non-entity from "Cut and Shoot," Texas, and Pete Rademacher, an amateur boxer who fought Patterson for the title in only his first pro fight--and then managed to put Floyd on the canvas before finally being knocked out in the sixth round.
But lots of folks remembered that Johansson had been disqualified for "cowardice in the ring" when he faced American boxer Ed Sanders for the gold medal at the 1952 Olympic Games. Ingo ran and ran that day and many experts figured he'd fade as soon as Patterson whopped him one.
What nobody knew, though, except possibly Eddie Machen, was that Ingo's quick and powerful right hand, which the sportswriters dubbed his "toonder and lightning," wasn't some Viking myth. It was a genuine knockout punch, which could lay you out flat if he ever landed it on your kisser. Patterson was peek-a-booing his way around the challenger in round three when Ingo flashed that punch and down Floyd went. Ingo had another one waiting for him every time Floyd struggled to his feet.
I watched that awesome display of finishing power on a giant movie-sized screen that night in San Jose, Calif. In those days, there was no pay-per-view cablecasts for championship fights in most American cities. Instead, they were piped to auditoriums or theaters and people came from all over to see them like the big events they were back in the 1950s.
I was ecstatic at Ingo's victory. He was just exactly what the fight game needed in 1959. Patterson's manager, Cus D'Amato, had declared war on the crooks who then were running what was known as the National Boxing Assn. He would not fight their contenders, especially Charles "Sonny" Liston, the man they finally got behind and shoved toward a title showdown. Crooked boxing guys were cheering when Patterson lost the title to Ingo because they figured they'd get it right back as soon as Liston or one of their "boys" got a match with the Swede.
But D'Amato was one shrewd dude and he had an ironclad rematch agreement with Johansson. He also figured he could teach Floyd how to dodge Swedish thunderbolts. He was right. Patterson regained the championship quickly, demolishing Ingo in the process. The rubber match was also a rout for Floyd and Ingo lay twitching on the canvas, seriously hurt.
In his brief reign, Ingo was everything the world wanted from a heavyweight champ. He was handsome, could speak pretty fair English and was an incorrigible ladies man. He had a girl friend who was made for magazine covers and they partied down from the minute he arrived in the States for the first fight until Floyd ended the glory in the rematch.
Johansson fought again after the three Patterson fights, but he was never again a world class fighter. He faded from the international scene in just a few years. The only time we ever saw any photos of him in subsequent years was when some photographer wanted to show us how out of shape and bloated Ingo had become in retirement.
For the past couple of years, Johansson had been battling Alzheimer's Disease. Many prizefighters suffer from this illness earlier than normal, no doubt because of the damage to their brains from years of steady ring pounding.
In his day, though, Johansson was a skilled boxer-puncher with tremendous power, but limited by the serious flaw Patterson exposed for us: He couldn't take a punch to the chin. As the only Swede to ever hold boxing's highest honor, though, he remained a national hero in his own land throughout his life, which, from a distance, still seemed like a very pleasant one despite his quick exit from the international spotlight.
©2009 by Ron Miller. This column first posted Feb. 2, 2009.
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