In June of 2016, the greatest heavyweight boxer of all time, and one my personal heroes, passed away. Muhammad Ali, one of the greatest human beings to ever lace up the gloves, left us at the age of 74 after battling Parkinson's disease for decades. Never has a celebrity death hit me harder. His greatness inside and outside the ring simply filled me with awe. Who else could have not only the boxing record he had, but have that record after being forced to give up the sport during his prime athletic years because he refused to fight in the unjust crime against humanity we call the Vietnam War? My respect for that man was, and still is, limitless.
Yet my favorite boxer died three years later, in July of 2019.
Ali was my favorite person who ever boxed, but Pernell Whitaker was my favorite boxer. While any serious boxing fan knows his name, few outside of the boxing world do. As only a casual boxing fan myself, I didn't even discover him through boxing- I discovered him when UFC legend Anderson Silva was in his prime, dancing around punches as if he could read opponents' minds. One night, inspired by Silva and in the mood to watch some boxing, I Googled "boxers with good head movement" to see what I could find. I stumbled across a Pernell Whitaker highlight video. The rest was history.
Any of you reading this know me as someone who loves fight science. You're probably expecting me to name specific nuances of his game I admire. While that does sound fun, I actually wanna focus on something a little more broad here. And something that even goes beyond the realm of boxing. It gets into why I got into martial arts in the first place, and why I continue to train in the combat sports world as a martial artist.
Pernell Whitaker, if you're not familiar with him, was a master of defensive boxing. Everyone remembers him for his amazing head movement especially. It was how I stumbled across him, after all. Unlike Anderson Silva, who could employ amazing head movement against MMA fighters during an early era with incredibly primitive boxing, Whitkaer danced around the punches of world-class boxers. Most boxers who have highlight reels on YouTube have highlights of their knockouts; Whitaker has those, but he has even more highlight videos of him dodging punches like he was in The Matrix.
On a less flashy level, he also had crafty footwork. He could change the tempo of his movement like nothing, which made it hard to predict how he might move when he wasn't punching. Sometimes he exited an exchange by rapidly darting away, other times he strolled away at a leisurely pace. Sometimes he pretended to stroll away, wanting an opponent to chase him, where he would then spring his trap and explode into a rapid-fire punching combination. On top of his footwork, he also had a surprisingly strong jab for a southpaw, which he used to disrupt the rhythm of his opponents. It was the combination of his head movement, footwork, and southpaw jab that together created a world-class defense that few fighters in boxing history have been able to match.
Okay, I guess I couldn't help my self, I had to talk at least a little bit about fight science. But there's more to this than that.
I've been into martial arts since I was a kid. I wanted to be like the Green Power Ranger, Batman, and Superman. My parents enrolled me in karate when I was around eight; it was pretty generic US karate, nothing special, but I loved it. I never continued it when we moved from Virginia to California roughly a year later, but I always dreamed about returning to martial arts in some way or another. I wanted to be like Goku and Gohan from Dragonball Z. In high school I started lifting weights, but I also watched a bunch of Asian martial arts films. My favorite were the muay thai movies of Tony Jaa. Shortly after I graduated high school, I found a studio that taught muay thai, jeet kune do (Bruce Lee's martial art), and kali/arnis (Filipino fencing with bamboo sticks and knives). Since then, I have been training martial arts in one form or another almost my entire adult life.
The thing is, fighting goes against my nature. I was a gentle, sensitive kid. There's a reason Gohan was my favorite DBZ character; I wanted to be like Goku, but I related to Gohan's gentleness. I don't like hurting people, nor do I particularly enjoy the sensation of getting punched or kicked myself. While I get used to it when I've been training for a while, anytime I leave striking for an extended period of time and come back to it, I find myself deeply uncomfortable in sparring. I push through it, but I don't enjoy it the way some people in the gym do. It's simply not my element.
I train for a variety of reasons. To be healthy, to have a place of community, to have self-defense skills in my back pocket (or community defense skills, should I ever see something like a hate crime or violently angry fascist somewhere). Perhaps the main reasons I train, though, is that I love both the science and the art behind fighting. To be able to understand how fighting isn't about brute force, but about smarts and technique and strategy; a science. How it's also about your own personality and creativity and ability to improvise; an art. When I'm sparring, I'm not doing it because I want to hurt my opponent. I'm doing it because I want to perfect my craft and learn a little bit about myself in the process.
What I love about Whitaker's fighting style is that it shows how fighting isn't just about how effectively you can hurt someone. He knew how to go on the offensive when the chance came to him, but he truly created a masterpiece of the art of defense. Of preservation. Of diffusing aggression. Not only that, but he looked so damn cool doing it! From that very first highlight video I saw of his, I knew I'd found something special. Something that showed me that it's okay to focus on making an art of diffusing aggression and keeping both me and my partner safe, rather than trying to get in as many shots as I can.
Don't get me wrong, I still practice my punches. I still try to set up good offense in sparring. I'd be an obnoxious training partner if I didn't, because it's that back and forth that makes sparring such a valuable method for learning how to fight. It's my defense, though, where I truly put my focus. And, while it may be a bit dorky to admit, I do try to make it look flashy and cool whenever I can, because what's training without a little fun?
Thanks for everything you taught me about what fighting can be, Pernell Whitaker. RIP.
