This is the first of an ongoing series by special guests, many of whom are not professional writers but are from other parts of the boxing world – boxers, sparring partners, trainers, matchmakers, referees, photographers, historians – each with unique knowledge and insight into the participants, each with his or her own style of presenting the dream bout.

Our first guest is Ron Lipton, best known as a veteran, world-class referee. However, Lipton, who was inducted into both the New Jersey and New York State boxing halls of fame, is also a former amateur boxer and boxing historian.

This is a dream fight that many longtime boxing fans have wanted to see receive the up-close-and-personal “mythical matchup” treatment. It was my honor to have done several “Battle of the Legends” features for The Ring Magazine in past decades, and I like to think that dream fights are my forte as a boxing historian. I enjoy doing them devoid of any personal feeling. This one was at the top of my list because it’s a shootout between two great middleweight punchers, men known for their explosive ferocity.

Allow me some poetic license to create the fight atmosphere with an amalgam of eras and officials, and let’s leave it on the Gillette Cavalcade of Sports.

I am going to sit ringside with you at the old Madison Square Garden at Eighth Avenue and 49th Street. I used to go with my longshoreman buddy Bill, who would meet me there for every fight card, never missing a show. The entire fight crowd was outside between Adam’s Hats and Nedick’s, milling around talking about the fight card. This main event is a sizzling match, alive with electric anticipation that is spreading through the fight crowd already.

Let’s grab a hot dog and orangeade at Nedick’s and get Malcolm “Flash” Gordon’s “Tonight’s Boxing Program” and an MSG program, too.

But before we go inside, let’s take a look at the backgrounds of the main event fighters, much of which was touched upon in two hard-hitting movies, Somebody Up There Likes Me and The Hurricane. (I’ve read the books on Rocky and Rubin, and I am mentioned in the acknowledgments of Carter’s book, The Sixteenth Round, as his sparring partner and a police officer who worked on his case.)

This isn’t biographical background, it’s personal insight I think is necessary to ascertain the outcome of their dream fight.

I was a paid sparring partner for Carter, so I know his capabilities, strengths and weaknesses better than most.

I also had the delightful experience of being Graziano’s friend, having spent some quality time with him in my youth. I have studied every film that exists on Rocky and I sat ringside for all of Carter’s major fights, missing only a few of his very early bouts.

Carter wore special-made gloves to protect sparring partners from his vaunted power. (Photo by Central Press/Getty Images)

Rubin – not “Rueben,” as it is often misspelled – was a fistic force. He knocked out heavyweight sparring partners face-first while wearing specially made 23-ounce sparring gloves. That was the only way sparring partners could avoid being crippled or worse in that Detroit, “Kronk-like” gym war camp that he created. You took the punishment or you left without pay.

Having lived with and trained with Carter at Ehsan’s (formally Madame Bey’s) training camp in Chatham, New Jersey, Mooksie’s gym in Newark, and in Paterson, New Jersey, I knew all about the power, speed, skill and viciousness Carter possessed, as well as his temperament and focus. 

When in the presence of Rocky at the Concord Hotel in the Catskills, where I spent a lot of time in my youth, I witnessed the fiery side of the former middleweight champ’s personality in the bar. For all his fan-friendly, amiable joking and warmth exuded when around the public and media, there was real menace from within when he was provoked.

In the midst of shaking hands with everyone at the Concord, some heavyset intoxicated man standing behind him kept annoying him at the bar. The idiot kept using his fingers to tap Rocky hard on the shoulder while trying to get him to turn around and listen to loud, disrespecting questions, such as “What did it feel like when Tony Zale knocked you out?”

It got to the point that people who knew the drunk were telling him to shut up and leave. Rocky, who was being friendly to all around him and standing next to me nursing a beer, turned his head toward the man and snapped, “Stop fucking touching me.” The guy did it again, and I saw the blood rush into Graziano’s neck and face. His whole body went tight and ready as he cocked his right hand. 

His face was that of a snarling animal and, thankfully, the potential fight was broken up immediately by quick acting and concerned patrons. Yet, in that second, I saw the guy who hammered Zale into submission, the maniac who knocked out Marty Servo, Al “Bummy” Davis, Freddie Cochrane, Billy Arnold, Harold Green and Charlie Fusari. 

READ: 10 Notable middleweight title bouts between sluggers

I saw the inherent ferocity that time had failed to diminish. Even in his sports jacket he looked like his namesake, a rock. I vividly remember standing there and thinking of him being pulled off of Tony Zale draped over the ropes.

It went way beyond getting angry. It showed me, in an instant, a throwback to the Lower East Side version of Rocky Graziano that I had read so much about. I loved seeing it, and my only thought then was, “Damn! THERE IT IS. No weapons, just bare hands like the old days.” I have to factor in that aspect of him into this dream fight.

Graziano was the champ and a celebrity, but he had a primal, violent side.

The only way these dream matchups should work in the minds of boxing aficionados is to match the fighters up on the best night they ever had while accessing their strengths and vulnerabilities under fire. 

As a former fighter, I look for certain aspects of both fighters’ records that are salient points of evaluation for me – the records of who they beat, how many knockdowns they suffered and how they acted after getting knocked down themselves when the going got rough. Additionally, I consider their fluctuation, if any, in weight and their fighting condition in most of their fights, along with the intense study of the films available on them and how they scored their KOs. 

How many punches did it take to finish their opponent? How do I rate their arsenal of punches in terms of power, skill of delivery, hand speed, leg strength and endurance under fire?

For example, I cannot factor in Graziano’s loss to Chuck Davey at the end of his career, five months after his chilling third-round knockout loss to Sugar Ray Robinson. Neither can I factor in the close decisions Carter dropped to stick-and-move boxers (Joey Archer, Luis Rodriguez and a few others) before and after he lost his lone title shot to Joey Giardello in 1964. 

After Giardello, a dejected Carter was only in it for quick paydays. I was in his dressing room after the Giardello fight. That loss changed him forever. He gave up on his dream of being a champion, his boxing career and serious training.

Outside pressures weighed heavily upon his mind. Whether that pressure was his own fault or not, I saw that the cumulative effect whittled him down from the destroyer he once was to an average fighter. 

Others would not have given up their dreams, but I must note that Carter never quit in the midst of a fight or when trying to free himself from prison. 

Graziano didn’t give up after the rubber-match loss to Zale. He went on to score a series of knockouts, fighting his way back up the rankings to another title try vs. Robinson.

It should be noted again that Carter never quit to avoid punishment, even rising from three knockdowns against Dick Tiger, one of the strongest middleweight champions in history. No one ever counted 10 over Rubin Carter. 

Carter fought four Hall of Famers: Emile Griffith, Luis Rodriguez, Joey Giardello and Dick Tiger (pictured). (Photo by Herb Scharfman/Sports Imagery/Getty Images)

After Rubin’s most devastating stoppage, the KO of Emile Griffith in Pittsburgh on December 20, 1963, Graziano said publicly and privately that he felt he could beat Carter. 

This colorful comment came up in conversation between Rubin and me one time in camp. 

Carter told me, “I don’t give a fuck, let him think what he wants. All fighters think they can beat anybody. He’s wrong. No welterweight is going to beat me coming straight at me.” 

I said, “He’s a middleweight, Rubin.” He replied, “He was a tough fighter, but he was mostly a blown-up welterweight.” I interjected that Graziano had a right hand that took out Zale. Rubin said, “The last thing I’ll say is he had no left hand and you need two good hands to even dream of beating me, and I don’t want to talk about this shit anymore.”

So, that was that.

At that time, Rubin was not the charming fellow who changed his life around that Denzel Washington brought to life on the screen. Carter was always grouchy, but we were all used to his temper. Graziano’s anger, from what I saw, was much more primitive.

(I believe Rubin and Rocky would have gotten along later in life and would have had many good laughs together.)

READ: Ranking THE RING’s 31 middleweight champions

Emile Griffith was training for his 1965 title bout against Manuel Gonzalez in the basement of the old Madison Square Garden. Graziano was there with Willie Pep and Barney Ross. I was also there and felt comfortable chatting with Graziano, who I’d gotten to know.

I mentioned I had been in camp with Carter and was surprised that Graziano’s demeanor hardened immediately. I asked: “How do you think you come out in a fight with Carter?” I pointed up to Emile in the ring and said, “Remember, he took out Emile in the first round. No one ever did that.”

His answer was short, to the point, and echoed a comment he made on Johnny Carson years later when asked if he was ever mad enough to hurt someone badly in the ring; he gave the same serious-as-a-winter-on-welfare response to me: “I’d split his fucking head with an axe.” He said this as he made a tight fist and held up his dynamite right hand. I will never forget it.

OK, enough background, let’s get to our seats.

THE FIGHT: 

The Garden is packed. It is a sellout. 

The marquee outside simply reads: Tonight Boxing Rocky Graziano v Rubin “Hurricane” Carter. 

The equally famous gold and red fight posters note that it’s “15 Rounds for the Middleweight Championship of the World, Rocky Graziano, Middleweight Champion of the World Vs. Rubin ‘Hurricane’ Carter, the sensational knockout artist from Paterson, N.J.”

Carter weighed in at 157 pounds, the same as he did when he took out Florentino Fernandez in one round. Graziano came in at 155, the same weight as when he took Zale down in six rounds. 

There wasn’t much trouble at the weigh-in, just an intense nose-to-nose staredown with neither man backing down. 

Carter is slightly taller at 5-foot-8 to Rocky’s 5-foot-7. Rubin tried that baleful stare he is known for; Rocky glared right back at him with his dark Italian eyes burning like two coals. The tempers flared. Neither man budged.

Both men are muscular beyond belief; Carter’s arms, back, chest and shoulders are like a jungle cat. Graziano is much more powerful in the legs, which look rock hard. He’s got calves on him like Manny Pacquaio. Rocky’s torso is ripped without an ounce of fat.

Whitey Bimstein, Al Silvani and Irving Cohen had to pull Rocky back after the face-off, as did Carter’s cornermen Jimmy Wilde, Charlie Goldman and Pat Amato.

There were some problems with the choice of the referee, as both sides wanted a referee who would not stop the fight too soon. 

Referee Ruby Goldstein watches Graziano pummel Charley Fusari in 1949.

The NYSAC agreed to have Ruby Goldstein as the referee despite protests from some sportswriters that he let the Robinson-Turpin fight go on too long and allowed Floyd Patterson to be dropped seven times by Ingemar Johansson in their first fight. Both fight camps agreed to the referee despite the Griffith-Benny Paret rubber-match tragedy.

The judges are Tony Castellano, Harold Lederman and Steve Weisfeld.

Some of the sportswriters wrote about the rules meeting in which Carter’s people told Goldstein to watch out for Graziano’s fouls of choking with one glove while punching with the other and hitting after the bell. Carter interjected loud enough for all to hear, “I don’t give a shit what he does. Let’s get this over with.”

The prelims were fantastic, but the crowd is starting to go crazy waiting for the ring entrances for the main event.

Here comes Carter; he has his black velvet hooded robe on with a gold sash and a big black panther’s head on the back, made for him by his former manager’s wife, Nicoletta Tedeschi, with another blue terrycloth robe under that. The terrycloth robe is to honor a teenage sparring partner Lou Duva sent to Carter who ended up crippled in a sparring session, Winnie Winfred.

Carter has his head down as he shadowboxes, throwing uppercuts and hooks, rhythmically jogging to the ring with the executioner-type hood hiding his face. 

Rocky Graziano

The crowd is going insane. I cannot hear the person next to me. A contagious electric current is in the air. The entire Garden crowd is standing up as one, and Carter keeps shadowboxing on the way to the ring. He is coming in to Nazareth’s “Hair of the Dog,” and the lyrics are blasting “Now you’re messing with a son of a bitch.” The crowd is going crazy. He is climbing through the ropes; Goldman is sitting on the lower strand and clearing the way for The Hurricane.

Carter is in the ring and he looks like a force of nature. He shakes the hood off to reveal the Fu Manchu mustache and goatee. The NYSAC let him keep it. 

He takes both robes off and is glistening with sweat; he warmed up but good. His back muscles are like rippling pythons and his biceps are bursting through the skin. They say he never lifted weights but does thousands of pushups and situps.

Jesus Christ, listen to the crowd! The noise is deafening … HERE COMES GRAZIANO. People are standing on their chairs, and I will have to stand on mine to see him. He has a white satin robe, no hood, and he is fast jogging, almost running eagerly to the ring. He looks as handsome as a movie star with thick black hair. 

I hear some of the gamblers sitting next to me saying, “He’s ready; he can’t wait to get it on,” and they are increasing their bets on Rocky. Bimstein and Silvani are trying to keep up with the Rock; Cohen is trailing behind. Graziano is coming in to Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York.”

People are screaming Rocky’s name next to me so loud it is beyond belief. This is the most exciting buildup to a fight I could imagine. Graziano slides through the ropes by himself. He’s throwing punches hard and fast in his corner, warming up while the crowd goes wild.

Goldstein is checking the fighters’ gloves, trunks, cups and mouthpieces now.

It goes to ring announcer Johnnie Addie. He is calling up the celebrities one by one. The wait is excruciating. Joe Louis, Rocky Marciano, Jake LaMotta. Marcel Cerdan is here from France. He and Jake give each other a hug, as did Louis and Marciano. Jack Dempsey and Gene Tunney also enter and shake hands. Dick Tiger, Joey Archer and Emile Griffith are next.

The crowd is cheering Tony Zale as he enters the ring and goes over to wish Rocky luck, as all the champions did to both main event fighters. 

Now for the participants. Carter is introduced: “On my left, in the blue corner, wearing the all black trunks, weighing in at 157 pounds, hailing from Paterson, New Jersey, with a record of…” I can’t hear Addie; the crowd is too loud. “Rubin ‘Hurricane’ Carter!” The boos are now outweighing the cheers.

Addie continues: “To my right, in the red corner, wearing the purple trunks, weighing in at 155 pounds, the pride of the East Side of New York City, the middleweight champion of the world, Rocky Graziano!”

I see Frank Sinatra at ringside. Now the cheers of the crowd have shaken the walls of the Garden. 

Goldstein is calling the fighters to the center of the ring with their chief seconds. Bimstein is rubbing Rocky’s shoulders. Goldman is rubbing Carter’s neck. 

The boxers are not staring at each other. No bullshit hard looks. Both of their heads are down. All business now. They touch their eight-ounce gloves, which were agreed upon for this fight, and go back to their respective corners. 

THERE’S THE BELL FOR THE FIRST ROUND:

Carter comes out with his hands high. He circles to his left to feel out Rocky and maybe counterpunch, but Graziano is on him already, winging punches and driving Carter back to the ropes. Rocky has Rubin pinned there and is raining punches on him, although none are getting through to Carter’s head. They are all being blocked, but they are hard shots landing on his arms and shoulders

Carter tries to spin Rocky around, but Graziano is dug in with his powerful legs and keeps throwing both hands to the head. Carter has decided to work with him to the body and is rolling underneath the wide shots and digging punches of his own to the body. Graziano gets in one overhand right to the top of Carter’s head and Rubin wobbles. The crowd just went berserk. 

They clinch, and Goldstein breaks them.

Rocky is pursuing Carter, who is fighting for his life here. Rocky is swinging too wide, and Bimstein is yelling from the corner for him to get his hands up. Carter is still backing up. Graziano rushes in and Carter catches him with a short chopping right to the chin. Graziano is smashed down hard to the canvas, falling backward. The follow-up left hook misses and swishes through the air, but Rocky is down.

Carter runs to the farthest white neutral corner and is watching Graziano like a jaguar ready to pounce again. Rocky is up at the count of six and Goldstein waves it on. 

The noise is almost too much to take now; people are going hoarse from screaming. Carter comes in for the finish and throws a flurry of punches. Graziano is not even clinching or taking one half step back; he is punching back furiously, and Carter backs off with a surprised look on his face as Rocky swings a right hand that lands on Carter’s shoulders after the bell. The timekeeper keeps pounding the bell so everyone can hear it over the crowd.

Goldstein is yelling at Rocky and Carter’s corner is protesting the after-the-bell punch. No points are taken.

They are in their corners. Carter’s nose is bleeding. Goldman is yelling at him to take his time and keep his hands up.

Silvani is working on Rocky through the ropes and Bimstein is rubbing his face while talking to him. “What we worked on, damn it, what we worked on.” Rocky looks OK now and is nodding back in agreement at Bimstein. There is the 10-second warning before the bell.

There’s the Bell for the SECOND ROUND:

Carter comes out stalking and Graziano is on him like a madman, winging the right hand over the top, around the gloves, but not landing solid. People near me are screaming, “GET YOUR HANDS UP, ROCKY! KEEP YOUR HANDS UP!” The fighters are in the middle of the ring and Carter is trying to set up Rocky with a jab. Graziano comes forward throwing more wild right hands, brushing Rubin’s jab aside while carelessly moving in. Carter catches Rocky with a vicious left hook on the side of his head, almost turning Graziano’s body halfway around as the force of it drops him.

The referee’s count reaches “four” and Graziano is up but wobbly. People are screaming for Goldstein to stop the fight, but Ruby ignores them, wipes Graziano’s gloves and waves in Carter. Rocky has blood and vengeance in his eyes and goes all out to attack Carter despite being hurt badly.

Long before Bob Dylan chronicled his murder case, Carter was a menacing contender.

Carter is blocking the wide, looping right hands, catching them with his left glove held high. He is smiling through his mouthpiece. He smells blood like a wolf now. Graziano pushes Carter back to the ropes, still winging shots. He grabs Carter by the throat with his left hand to blast him with his vaunted right and Goldstein moves in and breaks them, giving Graziano a hard warning. 

Rocky brushes the ref’s arm aside, and Goldstein allows it in the heat of battle. Rocky resumes the wild attack. Carter smiles as he blocks the punches. Rocky weaves under Carter’s own counter-right hand and comes back with the hardest left hook he ever threw. That must be what Bimstein was working on. Carter, watching only for the right hand, fell into the trap. He is wobbled badly and Graziano is on him like a maniac with his ass on fire.

One killer, full-force right hand gets through an opening and lands to the top of Carter’s head. He is stunned and sags back onto the lower strand of the ropes, sinking into a half squat. The ropes saved him from going down, but a knockdown was not called. It should have been. 

Now we can see Rocky’s face better as his head is up on the attack. It’s badly bruised from Carter’s punches and he has a bloody nose, so he is snorting, breathing heavily. But he remains in his frenzy to keep punching Carter. One right hand has Carter sinking to his knee. WHERE THE HELL IS THE REFEREE?

Goldstein is at a bad angle and cannot see the full onslaught taking place. Rocky hammers Carter with all the power he can fetch up from the floor into that dynamite-charged right hand. It lands again and again with no lefts, as Carter is helpless in his half squat, unable to rise. Both gloves are drooping down as one more vicious right hand sends Carter’s mouthpiece flying into the second row. Carter sinks to his knees on the canvas just as the bell rings. The count continues as Carter fully slumps to the floor onto his right side and into 5,000 photos.

Graziano’s legend was forged on his savage middleweight trilogy with Tony Zale.

People are screaming at the referee to stop counting as the doctors are trying to get up on the ring apron and into the ring. It is bedlam in the Garden. Ruby ignores them all as security prevents anyone from entering the ring. Goldstein finishes the count, “8, 9, 10… OUT!”

Dr. Vincent Nardiello and Dr. Nitin Sethi now rush into the ring to administer to Carter. After a full two minutes, they get him up and onto his ring stool.

Silvani has picked up the battered Graziano and put him on his shoulders, parading him around the ring to the adoring and cheering crowd while Bimstein and Cohen each hold a Graziano leg, brimming with victory smiles.

You can hear Bimstein yelling to Rocky above the noise, “THE LEFT HOOK, ROCKY! I TOLD YOU! I TOLD YOU!” Rocky is kissing his handlers and hugging them. He goes over to Carter, who is up now. They hug and Carter holds Rocky’s hand aloft.

Addie puts the cherry on the ice cream. “THE WINNER BY KNOCKOUT AT THREE MINUTES OF THE SECOND ROUND AND STILL THE MIDDLEWEIGHT CHAMPION OF THE WORLD, THE PRIDE OF THE EAST SIDE OF NEW YORK, ROCKY GRAZIANO!”

Don Dunphy has Rocky in the ring now. “Rocky, congratulations. That was easily one of the most exciting fights I ever saw. That is right up there with the Zale fights.”

Rocky: “Thanks, Don, I want to thank my team for believing in me. I love you, Norma, and I’m fine. I knew I could take this guy if I got into the best shape of my life. He hits like a ton of bricks. Whitey had a plan, and I had to stick with it. Everyone thought I had no left hook, so we’ve been working on that in secret all through camp. I nailed him with the hook and the right hands finished the job on him.”

Dunphy: “Rocky, he dropped you twice. How bad were you hurt each time?”

Rocky: “Twice? I only remember one time.”

Dunphy: “Rocky, you were down twice.” 

Rocky: “Like I said, Don, he hits like a ton of bricks falling on you.”

Dunphy: “I wanted to get Rubin over here, but he’s back in the dressing room being checked out by the doctors. Hopefully we will see him at the post-fight press conference.

“Wait a minute, we have Randy Gordon from SiriusXM Radio in Carter’s dressing room. Randy, have you spoken with Carter?”

Gordon: “I have Rubin Carter here with me and he is fine and willing to comment on the fight. Rubin, any comments on the great fight we just saw with you and Rocky?

Carter: “No excuses, Randy. Rocky was the better man tonight, and I congratulate him. I do want a rematch, and I know the next time I will knock him out. That’s a promise. I had him down twice and I let him off the hook. And speaking of hooks, he did surprise me. I did not think he had a left hand. I found out the hard way I was wrong. I’ll be back.”

Gordon: “Thank you, Rubin. Best of luck. Back to you, Don.”

Dunphy: “I’m trying to get Rocky Graziano over here again. Rocky, can you get Whitey Bimstein over here please? … Whitey, Rocky said you guys were working on his left hook for tonight, and that certainly was a surprise that did the trick. What’s your take on the whole fight?”

Bimstein: “I have only one thing to say, Don, and that is from the moment I first met Rocky, I knew this kid had no quit in him. That is what makes a champion. Jack Dempsey said it best: A champion is a guy who gets up when he can’t get up. What won this fight is that gift that Rocky always had. There was never any quit in him, and he showed it once again tonight.”

Dunphy: “Rocky, any final thoughts?”

Rocky: “Yeah, Don. To everyone out there, never quit in that ring or in life. Somebody up there does like you.”