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Thomas Hearns Battles Bull!
Loud music began to play as the great boxing champion Thomas “Hit Man” Hearns and his entourage began making their way to the boxing ring that had been assembled in the center of the 50,000-seat Aloha Stadium in Honolulu, Hawaii. The five-time world champion had feasted on many an opponent in his celebrated career. He had knocked out contenders like world champions Pipino Cuevas and Dennis Andries, and even KO’d the legendary champion Roberto Duran in the second round of a title fight in his illustrious career. He had outboxed the wondrous Wilfredo Benitez, the youngest man ever to win a world boxing title, and had nearly stopped the great Sugar Ray Leonard in their first encounter. The mere mention of Hearns’ name made world-class boxers weak in the knees.
Ken “The Bull” Atkin of Smyrna, Tennessee, who was an unknown and unheralded boxer that I managed and trained throughout his career, already was gloved and waiting in the ring to face the famous boxer. Keith McKnight, another one of my boxers, and I were standing in the ring with Atkin as Hearns and his entourage made their way toward the boxing ring. Atkin was brought in to be Hearns’ next sacrificial lamb in his quest for another world title.
Atkin had started late in boxing at age 19. He’d had a very limited amateur career of only 12 bouts. He wasn’t as skillful and polished as the boxers who had extended amateur careers. But he was extremely tough and he was one of the most courageous guys I ever worked with. He had been nicknamed “The Bull” in junior high school because of his ram-charging ways.
Atkin’s dream of having a shot at the big-time came the day boxing promoter Harold Smith called me looking for an opponent for Hearns. In boxing, the word “opponent” doesn’t have good connotations. An opponent isn’t brought in to win. He is someone who is brought in to give a great fighter some work. Oftentimes, opponents are nothing more than washed up tomato cans – used to build up the record of his adversary. Smith even asked me on the telephone before the fight. “You’re not going to bring your guy in and upset my fighter are you?”
Even though we were going to do everything in our power to win, I didn’t want to say anything that might cause Smith to find another opponent for Hearns. So I said, “Harold, you know the odds of us beating Hearns are slim to none.” He chuckled and that was the end of that conversation.
Our strategy was to play the opponent role right up until the bell rang. We were hoping that Hearns would take Atkin for granted and not train for the bout, thereby giving Ken his best chance of winning.
Unknown boxers who haven’t won national amateur titles or competed at the Olympic level might get one or two opportunities in their careers, if they are lucky, to make it into big-time boxing. Many don’t ever receive any big opportunities. Less than two percent of professional boxers make the multi-million paydays we read about in the newspaper. An “opportunity fight” such as this one is what the unknown, underdog fighter fictionalized in the “Rocky” movies dreams about. If and when that opportunity comes, the underdog fighter jumps at the chance.
Atkin didn’t see himself as an opponent. He saw himself as a winner instead of a loser. He wasn’t afraid or intimidated of Hearns. He saw this as an opportunity of a lifetime and he trained like a man possessed. Boxers generally prepare for a 10-round fight by getting five miles of roadwork per day. Instead, Atkin ran eight or 10 miles per day in preparation for the April showdown with “The Hit Man, “also known as the “Motor City Cobra.” Atkin went 15 rounds against several rugged sparring partners three times a week, even though the fight only was scheduled for 10 rounds.
Hearns was set to face Virgil Hill for the light–heavyweight championship later in the year. As we stood in the ring we could see the “Hit Man” and his entourage at the far end of the stadium. They looked like an army coming toward us in the ring. The group was bouncing to the music, and everyone with Hearns was hollering at the champ encouraging him on.
Atkin had no entourage and no fans. It was just he, I and Keith McKnight standing in the corner. It felt like we were alone and outnumbered at a dog fight. Hearns was a vicious pit bull who had a platoon of antagonists on his side, pointing in our direction hollering, “Sic ‘em!”
The group entered the ring like a military assault squad. The champion ran up the steps, climbed through the ropes and entered the boxing ring to the sound of thunderous applause. Like the maestro he was, he skillfully glided around the ring while glaring at Atkin. Suddenly Hearns twirled around, his regal robe swirling. His entire entourage was clapping, hollering instructions and encouragement to the champion with all of their eyes fixed on our corner. I thought: “I hope I haven’t made a mistake in matching Atkin with Hearns. I hope ‘The Hit Man’ doesn’t hurt my fighter.”
Then I said a silent prayer for my friend. Atkin completely was oblivious to this psychological warfare and snapped me out of my somber reflection when he turned to me with a smile and asked, “What? Is all of that supposed to scare me or something?”
The anxiety and nervousness you feel as a boxer, trainer or manager in the ring before a big fight is extremely intense. Butterflies swirl in your stomach and your mind runs a hundred miles an hour as you wonder what is about to happen. Amazingly, once the bell sounds for the fight to begin, you relax and your nerves become calm.
Boxers usually start the bout in a feeling-out process. They meet in the center of the ring and begin testing each other, probing for openings or weaknesses in the opponent. Many boxing matches don’t become competitive or intense for a round or two. We threw that strategy out the window in the bout with Hearns. I felt that the safest place for Atkin in his bout against Hearns was on his chest. Atkin trained to crowd Hearns, and to fight him inside.
Just before the bell sounded for the first round to begin, I told Atkin, “You’ve got 10 seconds to get on his chest.”
The courageous 5-foot-7 Atkin showed no respect for Hearns, his power or his reputation; he ran across the ring and jumped on the 6 foot 1 inch champion’s chest and drew the champion into a brawl. Hearns backed into a neutral corner, then maneuvered his head to Atkin’s left shoulder, artfully sliding his body to the other side of Atkin where he dug three ferocious left hooks deep into Atkin’s midsection. This would have crushed many boxers, but Atkin was in the best shape of his life and the punches didn’t seem to faze him.
Former World Welterweight Champion Carlos Palomino was the television color commentator sitting at ringside calling the fight. “Boy, this Atkin kid is tough! He doesn’t believe he is an opponent. He came to win.”
Hearns pivoted out of the corner and fired his piston-like jab at Atkin with the speed of a bullet. Swish! The jab snapped Atkin’s head back. Atkin ducked the next shot Herms threw, and then he bulled the champion into the ropes, attempting to rough him up. Atkin then threw a picture-perfect right hand, his best shot of the fight, which landed squarely on Hearns’ chin.
Palomino hollered, “Man, Atkin just hit Hearns with a really good shot!”
The punch sent Hearns into the ring ropes, where he balanced himself and covered up. The bell sounded, ending the first round.
As the second round began, Hearns turned up the heat. He fired thunderous punches at “the Bull,” one after the other. Atkin rolled under most of the punches and moved forward, firing punches of his own. Tommy was trying to drill Atkin with that famous right hand, the same punch he had knocked out champions and legends with. But each time he threw the punch, Atkin employed a maneuver made famous by Detroit boxers, referred to as a shoulder roll, to get underneath the punch.
For six minutes, “The Bull” battled Hearns on even terms, giving as much as he took. During the middle of the third round Atkin was hit above his left eye, opening a deep cut. The referee looked at the bloody Atkin and asked the ringside physician to look at the gash. The doctor advised the referee to stop the bout, which he did. Hearns was awarded a third-round technical knockout.
Later that year, Hearns went on to win the light-heavyweight world championship from Virgil Hill. Atkin later won the World Boxing Federation light heavyweight championship. Hearns retired a multi-millionaire, while Atkin continued to work as a police officer in Smyrna throughout his career to pay his bills.
Atkin was a man who had the courage to compete with one of the greatest boxers in the sport’s history. Very few people gave Atkin a chance to make it outside of the first round against Hearns. With such a tremendous disparity in skill and experience, Atkin wasn’t supposed to be able to compete with Hearns. Though he didn’t win the bout, he rose to the occasion and battled a great boxing champion on even terms for three rounds without getting knocked down or out. The heat was turned up and Atkin withstood the fire and didn’t quit. Several weeks later, the great boxing champion graciously autographed a photo of himself and Atkin in the ring. On the photo, he wrote, “No Rematch, Thomas Hearns.”