What number of boxers flip their Olympic gold medals into skilled titles? | Boxing

Name some of the most difficult or disgusting jobs in the history of history. Sin eater, miner, chimney sweep. When the words “boxer” or “fighter” fall into the discussion, people may think of Muhammad Ali or Mike Tyson and discard the idea. These guys were making tons of money and getting worldwide attention while taking drinks with little umbrellas and acting them out big, right?

The reality for most fighters is a low-income life that doesn’t end up with much to boast. On top of that, they are repeatedly slapped in the face for their efforts. After their first serious sparring session, how many fighters have their hand wraps removed and think, “This seems like an easy way not to get rich”?

One safe assumption is that after making the decision to become a fighter, most will have a desire to be great. The sugar plum fairy that dances in the mind of almost every amateur fighter is Olympic gold cloth, and the fairy tale of the average professional fighter ends with winning a world title.

The two-time Chinese Olympic champion Zou Shiming won his second professional fight against Jesus Ortega last weekend in Macau. While Zou could tap a potentially massive boxing market in China, one can’t help but wonder what will become of his career.

A total of 893 medals were awarded at 23 Olympics in boxing (but not the 2012 Games too young to be included in this discussion), with 229 gold medals going to 223 lone fighters, 38 of whom won recognized world rankings Belt. In other words, Olympic gold medalists have a 17 percent chance of becoming significant belt wearers.

In the first nine Olympic Boxing Games (1904-1952) only five gold medalists won world titles in the professional ranks: Frankie Genaro, Fidel LaBarba, Jackie Fields, Pascual Perez and Floyd Patterson.

The first 14 Olympics with boxing produced only 10 future playlists. The other 28 have all come since 1976 – the Olympics, considered by many to be the pinnacle of US boxing. The 1976 Games were also the first to spawn more than two future playlists.

Why, despite the fact that amateur boxing at the time was more like professional combat, does the Olympics seem to spit out future champions at a higher rate: more weight classes and an easier way to win a belt? Another type of promotion for gold medalists? TV?

A gold medal wasn’t a huge belt notch until Floyd Patterson picked up the vacant heavyweight title four years later after his 1952 win. In his second defense, he tossed a bone to 1956 gold medalist Pete Rademacher on his professional debut, and the large, honey-colored pendant just got a tad more important to the promotion. But the term “Golden Boy”, especially based on a former Olympic champion in the paid ranks, received a serious boost when the likeable Ray Leonard made rapid progress after his 1976 appearance.

The 1976 Games proved to be a turning point for Olympic boxing in several ways. The US won four gold medals but came home almost six this year. Heavyweight bronze winner John Tate would be another number on the “future belt keeper” list.

Perhaps the value of a belt was devalued a bit at this point. The United States, along with 64 other countries, boycotted the 1980 Olympic Games, and by the time the 1984 Games ended, Larry Holmes was only months away from legitimizing a new sanctions organization in the IBF. Each Olympiad from 1976 to 2004 produced two or more future champions.

Yet another sanctions agency should be considered in the late 1980s and early 1990s, and it is questionable whether or not the WBO gained serious recognition when Italian “golden boy” Maurizio Stecca won the organization’s first featherweight belt in 1984.

Zou enters the realm of the struggle for money at a time when there are more “legitimate” belts to be won than ever. They range from normal to super to silver. There are more weight classes than ever and more champions in multiple divisions. If it was a great time for Zou turning pro and hoping for a belt, it should be now.

Even if the cynical view is correct and Zou is just a pawn to attract Chinese viewers to the sport, he still has a serious amateur pedigree to consider. While great fighters like Billy Conn, Dwight Qawi, and Rocky Marciano had little or no amateur experience, emerging on an international stage in sport today seems like a better indicator of potential than not. It remains to be seen how removing the headgear and revising the point system will change this dynamic.

Until the transition from amateurs to professionals can be made easier and more seamless, ongoing skepticism will haunt the men and women who seek the immortality of the waistline. In Zou’s case, however, the doubt arises from a source called “reality”.

Even before he turned pro, Zou had an awkward, sneaky counterpuncher style. What is lost, however, is Joel Casamayor’s or even Amir Khan’s sharp offensive, and in their place there are a number of broad hooks, eccentric uppercuts, and questionable defenses. A cocky shuffle of foot when firmly anchored can grab the crowd’s attention, but it won’t single-handedly win a professional fight in a fair world.

At 32, Zou’s somewhat advanced age will accelerate his career. As a flyweight, the current depth of the division might work for him or history might work against him. It is as if he is caught between the ease with which belts are grabbed in the current era and the difficulty of obtaining and maintaining a belt in such a department.

Will it increase the likelihood of a gold medalist winning a belt by 17 percent in the years to come? It is possible, but if Top Rank can catch the attention of the Chinese market, will it matter?

Oddly enough, Zou’s combative upbringing is comparable to that of children in today’s hyperconnected age; Every milestone is documented, uploaded, downloaded and shared. If he continues to win, he may be one of the first fighters to have each of his bouts easily available on video. The consensus seems to be that Zou won’t hold out his belted days. Until then, it’s a gamble.

This is an article from our Guardian Sport Network

This article first appeared on The Queensberry Rules

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