Another Man's Opinion on 'Too Sharp' & 'The Rock'!

I found a very interesting article on MaxBoxing.com that gives candid opinions about two of the Beltway's most accomplished boxers -- Mark "Too Sharp" Johnson and Hasim "The Rock" Rahman.

The views come from Lee Groves of MaxBoxing.com whom I had the pleasure to meet during the Peterson Brothers card on May 25 at the DC Armory. With his permission, I share his views with you.

"When I was in Washington, D.C., in late May, I had the chance to speak briefly with two-division champion Mark "Too Sharp" Johnson. The first time I met Johnson was in April 2006 at the weigh-in between Nate Campbell and Issac Hlatschwayo in Tampa, and now, as was then, his father/trainer/manager Abraham "Ham" Johnson was at his side.

It used to be a cliché that fathers, sons and boxing don't mix but the Johnsons are just another example that stereotypes aren't universal. Both father and son are strong and determined men, yet each has a deep and genuine respect for the other that has made this relationship work at all levels.


The last time fans saw the younger Johnson in the ring was February 25, 2006 when he lost by eighth round TKO to then-WBO bantamweight champion Jhonny Gonzalez. The Gonzalez fight was to be a title bout but turned into a 10-rounder because Johnson was unable to make 118 pounds. The defeat was his second in a row and many observers felt that "Too Sharp" had lost his edge. Johnson, who will turn 36 in August, is hopeful that he will return to the ring sometime in August, but whether he does or not, there is no question that he is headed toward the end of a fine career. The question to be addressed here is whether that career will translate into a plaque at the International Boxing Hall of Fame.


If an elector bases his decision on talent alone, Johnson definitely qualifies. The D.C. born and bred boxer possessed a fully loaded arsenal of offensive weaponry and wielded them with a well-channeled arrogance and aggressiveness. The 5-3 southpaw was a bit shorter than the usual flyweight, but his 67 ½ inch wingspan equipped him with offensive options for which other men his size would be envious.


After losing his second pro fight to Richie Wenton, Johnson would embark on a five-and-a-half year, 28-fight winning streak that saw him become one of the most avoided fighters in the world. Fight number 13 was an action-packed split decision over Alberto Jimenez for something called the WBB flyweight title. That belt usually served as a steppingstone for a crack at one of the three "major" titles, but because those belt-holders saw "Too Sharp" as "Too Risky" he ended up defending the WBB bauble 10 times over the next two years. Johnson became a staple at the Great Western Forum as he took on – and defeated – Mexican after Mexican. His four-round knockout over Leon Salazar was among the most savage fights of 1995, and like "The Mexican Assassin" Roger Mayweather, the fans developed a love-hate relationship. They didn't love seeing him beat their favorite fighters but they respected the way he went about it.


His was as complete a package as one could find – speed, power, combination punching, defense and desire. But the one thing he lacked was the critical ingredient he needed to secure any fight his ability demanded – the perception of charisma. One of boxing's cruel realities is that ability isn't enough to get the big fights if the decision-makers believe that he doesn't have the star power to generate the dollars necessary to make the reward worth the risk. Mike McCallum possessed Hall-of-Fame caliber talent but because he didn't have a big enough name to prevent a potential Thomas Hearns-Roberto Duran fight, he was the odd man out.


In short, McCallum had the game, but because he didn't have the name, he didn't get the fame. But McCallum pressed onward and made himself into an attraction by blasting out favored challenger Donald Curry with a single hook to the jaw. From then on, the "Body Snatcher" would grace his share of big stages and he was successful often enough to become an immortal.


Such would not be the case for Johnson. The best junior flyweights, flyweights and super flyweights of his day – and today – have precious little opportunities to make six-figure paychecks. Fighting in their home nations before larger crowds is the most common way to do this and the only way to draw them out of their territorial cocoons is to offer them far more money – often an amount of money that would result in a loss for the promoter.


Why would longtime WBC flyweight champion Yuri Arbachakov, with whom a fight with Johnson was most often talked about, leave the safety of Japan when he could make the same cash defending against easier foes? Why would longtime WBA junior flyweight champion Myung Woo Yuh risk losing his belt before thousands of adoring South Koreans when he didn't have to? What would established names like Michael Carbajal, Humberto "Chiquita" Gonzalez, Johnny Tapia and Danny Romero have to gain by granting Johnson an audience with them?


Why? Because it just wasn't worth it to them.


Johnson finally received his crack at an IBF belt when he was paired with former champion Francisco Tejedor after Romero vacated it. "Too Sharp" had trained himself to a razor's edge and just 95 seconds after the opening bell he had sliced the Colombian to bits. After seven defenses at 112, Johnson moved up to 115 in hopes of landing a fight with Tapia. Instead he fought for Tapia's vacated WBO belt against Ratanachai Sor Vorapin, whom he easily decisioned.


The wheels began to fall off when Johnson, angered by Raul Juarez's repeated fouls, struck Juarez with a retaliatory low blow that left the challenger on the canvas for 10 minutes before being removed on a stretcher. It was a snapshot of Johnson's career-long frustration – why was he fighting Juarez, a man he had already knocked out in eight rounds three years earlier, when he deserved to fight big names for big money?


Johnson wouldn't fight again for 18 months, and by this time the edge was lost. Though he won, longtime admirer Max Kellerman put it best when he said that Johnson was "Sharp" but not "Too Sharp." Two defeats to Rafael Marquez led many to believe Johnson was finished as a top-shelf fighter, but he proved the naysayers wrong when he upset the 26-0-1 Fernando Montiel to regain the WBO super flyweight belt. Johnson defended it once against Luis Bolano (KO 4) before losing it to Ivan "Choko" Hernandez by eighth round TKO on the undercard of Glen Johnson-Roy Jones.


The question to consider is not only will Johnson be elected, but will he even be placed on the ballot? More than a few deserving lighter weight fighters such as Gilberto Roman, Jiro Watanabe, Sot Chitalada, Luis Estaba and Lupe Pintor have been overlooked by the selection committee, and Johnson, though the fault of others, doesn't have their championship resumes.


But let's say for the sake of argument that Johnson makes it on the ballot. Did Johnson exert dominance over his division? Seven defenses of the IBF flyweight title against opponents with a combined record of 151-18-2 speaks well for him. His one-round destruction of 1988 Olympian Arthur Johnson was the highlight of his reign, but I believe the majority of his best efforts took place well before his "major" championship reign. Between May 1994 and August 1996 Johnson scored 12 consecutive knockouts, an almost unheard of figure among the little men, and he did it with style and substance.


Where Johnson's candidacy will be tripped up is the fact that voters will be left to project how Johnson would have done against his era's best instead of having the evidence before them. Because none of the era's best chose to fight Johnson, the best "Too Sharp" can hope for is that he will be regarded in the same light as Sam Langford and Charley Burley, truly great fighters who were successfully dodged because they were too good for their own good.


My gut feeling, however, is that Johnson will suffer the fate of many of his peers and fall through the cracks of history because while Johnson's body was willing, his potential opponents were weak.
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When I was in Rochester, N.Y., in mid-June to do the Versus card featuring Hasim Rahman and Taurus Sykes, I happened to run into "The Rock" as he was leaving the elevator. He and the two other people with him were clearly in a hurry so I wasn't able to even get out a "hi, champ" before he was out of range. Even at a career-high 261 pounds, Rahman can still move quickly when he has to.

Even if the 34-year-old Rahman somehow manages to win the undisputed heavyweight title, he will forever be remembered for the right cross that shook the boxing world – and WBC/IBF champ Lennox Lewis – to its very foundations on April 22, 2001. That fifth-round rocket lifted Rahman to a higher plane and he appeared to be on the cusp of stardom. Armed with one-punch power in the ring, his sense of humor had the power to disarm as well as charm – and that could have meant big money had he remained on the throne.


But it was not to be as Lewis inflicted an even more thunderous one-punch knockout in the rematch. From that point forward, Rahman has been trying to regain the magic that he carried into South Africa all those years ago. Nearly two years after losing a decision to WBA titlist John Ruiz, Rahman regained the WBC belt after beating Monte Barrett in an elimination fight (and after Vitali Klitschiko subsequently vacated his "full" belt that prompted four injury-related postponements against Rahman). Rahman then drew with James Toney in a fight many believed "The Rock" deserved to win and in his most recent outing before Sykes, he lost the belt to Oleg Maskaev just 43 seconds before the final bell.


It is ironic that Rahman is now viewed as an underachiever because there was a time not too many years ago when very little was expected of him. Entering his first fight with Lewis, Rahman was a prohibitive underdog despite a 34-2 (29 KO) record and victories over Obed Sullivan and Corrie Sanders. Back then, fans paid more attention to his stoppage losses against David Tua and Maskaev, though Rahman was leading on the cards at the time of the knockouts. Boxing is a bottom-line sport and the bottom line was that Rahman wasn't heavyweight title timber.


The Lewis knockout transformed Rahman's image, both for good and bad. The title provided him a slice of immortality and the pathway to fame and fortune, but it also raised the expectations of fans and media. Because he didn't produce what they wanted to see in consecutive fights against Lewis, Evander Holyfield, Tua and Ruiz, this decade's heavyweight Cinderella Man turned into a One Hit Wonder. Message boarders took to calling Rahman "Crock-man" and boxing observers drove themselves bonkers trying to predict the outcomes of his fights because of the promise he showed on that one magical night in South Africa. They knew the talent was there, but for whatever reason it could not – or would not – come out.


Now, nearly six years later, Rahman is back at square one. Few expect him to climb atop the heavyweight mountain once again so any progress is good progress, especially after his sloppy decision victory over Sykes. Unlike "Too Sharp" Johnson, Rahman will receive no consideration for the Hall of Fame but he can take great satisfaction in knowing that the record books will forever list him on the champions' side of the ledger."