Monday, May. 26, 1952

Asaltador de Gigantes

In times past when such men of skill and punch as Joe Cans, Benny Leonard and Tony Canzoneri wore the crown, the lightweight championship of the world meant something in boxing. Even as recently as two years ago, Lightweight Champion Ike Williams was respected for his shifty style, if not for his fighting heart. But when Williams lost his title last year to a Harlem unknown named Jimmy Carter, lightweight prestige slumped. Last week Champion Carter, 28 and still a colorless jabber, put his low-rated title on the line for the third time.

Unable to draw a crowd in his own part of the country, Carter fought in Los Angeles' Olympic Auditorium. Some 7,000 fans, mostly Mexicanos, turned up to watch the fight, not because of Carter, but because of Carter's opponent: Mexican-born Lauro Salas, unknown nationally, but known locally as Asaltador de Gigantes (loose translation: the giant killer). The first time the two met last month, Champion Carter cut the giant killer down to size, though Carter was dumped to the canvas in Round 15. The knockdown earned Salas a rematch.

From the outset, Carter's superior boxing skill clearly outclassed the work of the bumbling, brawling little Mexican. Carter jabbed, poked and stabbed almost at will, while Salas shuffled around the ring, gloves drawn cocoon-like over his face. Every once in a while Salas burst out in a flurry of short-armed punches. For ten rounds it was a monotonous repetition of the first bout. Then, stung by a Carter punch, Salas began to fight.

Using short hooks, uppercuts and flailing overhand punches, Salas waded into the tired champion. All through the late rounds, bleeding from cuts over and under his left eye, Carter tried to hang on. He did, barely. The referee thought Carter's early-round advantage was enough to win, but the two judges voted for little beetle-browed Brawler Salas.

In the hysterical scene that followed the proclaiming of a new champion, Salas exulted again & again for the benefit of the radio & television audience: "I ween the chompanship of Mexico!" After being reminded that he was now world champion, Salas amended his boast by a preposition: "I ween the chompanship for Mexico!" Then, for almost two solid hours, the unskilled little gamecock refused to settle down. Instead, he strutted up & down through the arena's crowded aisles, sopping up the adulation, embracing and kissing anyone within reach of his stubby arms. He wanted to tell the whole world how he became the first Mexican fighter ever to win an undisputed world boxing title.

. . .

Another world title changed hands this week. In Tokyo, for Japan's first world's title fight, some 42,000 fans went wild as Japan's Yoshiro Shirai, 28 and a sharp counterpuncher, outpointed Hawaii's aging (35) Dado Marino for the flyweight (112 Ibs.) title. Like Lightweight Salas, Shirai is the first fighter from his country ever to hold a world championship. The U.S., once the stronghold of boxing, now owns only half of the eight world titles. Others outside the U.S.: the welterweight (147 Ibs.) championship held by Cuba's Kid Gavilan, and the bantamweight (118 Ibs.) held by South Africa's Vic Toweel.

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