No Doubt About It, Kim Maybee Made a Little Bit of Boxing History in the 1970s

In a few days’ time, Kim Maybee would be making her professional boxing debut. More than that, she would be making history as a participant in the first ever female fight in California. If she was at all nervous, the casual demeanor of this gregarious eighteen-year-old Cal State freshman in a back office of the Main Street Gym betrayed no hint of it whatsoever.

Maybee, a vegetarian and big believer in herbal remedies, chewed on a piece of ginseng root while lounging around on a couch. As sportswriters and photographers hastily came and went throughout the course of this media event orchestrated by promoter Don Fraser, Kim plucked away at a kalimba—a wooden African instrument sometimes referred to as a “thumb piano”—as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “Hey, I’ve fought so many times since I was a little kid, it’s ridiculous,” Maybee remarked nonchalantly.   

And this momentous fight was not taking place at some obscure little athletic club, mind you. Her 1976 bout against Pat Pineda was featured on the undercard of a show being headlined by Danny ‘Little Red’ Lopez, who at the time was just two fights and a little less than six months away from winning the world featherweight title, at the Forum in Inglewood, California.

Whether or not she was willing to admit it, the fact that the “Fabulous Forum” played host to the Los Angeles Lakers must have been of special significance to Maybee. Standing just shy of six-foot-two, Kim had been a standout on her junior high and high school basketball teams. While training for the April 28 fight mostly in her Hollywood backyard, many mornings she would sneak away to Beverly Hills High School where she would shoot hoops with Marques Johnson and Richard Washington of the UCLA Bruins.

Multi-faceted in her natural athleticism, Kim also had an avid interest in football and, come Autumn, planned to try out for the Los Angeles-based professional female squad called the Dandelions. Boxing was something she gravitated towards almost incidentally.

The youngest of eight siblings, not to mention the only girl among the Maybee brood, Kim was often used as a “punching bag” by her older brothers, all of whom lifted weights, played basketball, and boxed recreationally. Maybee developed a sizable chip on her shoulder at quite an early age and dared her classmates to try and knock it off, provoking them with insults she learned from the “dirty books” she somehow managed to get a hold of. “I’d call them ‘libidinous’ or something,” Kim laughed, “and they’d take a swing at me.”

Every one of these altercations ended in Maybee’s favor, earning her a “big-headed” self-assurance and a reputation to go with her unchecked aggression, referred to as “queen of the school” in junior high by her intimidated or just plain terrified peers. “People were patting me on the back, buying me lunch,” she boasted. “I would step in front of the lunch line in the cafeteria and people would move. Everybody was at my feet.”  

They always say to pick on someone your own size and, sure enough, Kim’s superiority was put to the test one day when she was challenged to a fight by a girl as big and broad as she was. After school, they faced off in the parking lot of a local gas station. Despite admitting to being “scared to death,” Maybee let the other girl throw the first punch. Kim easily ducked beneath the errant swing and hit the girl in the stomach. With the wind knocked out of her adversary, Kim proceeded to grab her by the hair. Bending her leg at about a 60-degree angle, she drove the girl’s head face-first into her knee. Just like that, the fight was over. Not that it turned out to be much of a fight after all. “Man, I love to break the nose and jam it into the brain,” Kim exclaimed. “That’s the sure-fire way.”

In an effort to steer Kim onto a path she felt was more suitable for a proper young lady, Maybee’s grandmother enrolled her in modeling school. As you might imagine, this didn’t sit well with the fast-talking, fist-swinging teenager who already had her mind made up to pursue athletic endeavors. “My grandmother said if I wasn’t careful, people would say I was gay. But I’m a different person about sports.” Maybee declared in no uncertain terms. “Man, it’s about the sport. Not about being feminine or masculine, but being about the sport.”

Not that you would know it judging by the calm, cool composure with which she carried herself like a seasoned pro who had been there, done that several dozen times over, but all of this attention being lavished upon her by the press was brand new to Kim Maybee. The same was not true of her opponent, whose name and picture had been in the paper on plenty of occasions prior to this.

A twenty-year-old divorced mother of two, Pat Pineda emerged as the star pupil of the boxing gym called the Locker Club run by Dee Knuckles at the San Pedro Harbor View House.

Before we go any further, let’s address Dee’s last name which could easily be mistaken for a self-applied moniker born of a cheap gimmick to drum up publicity. But not so. Knuckles was her honest-to-goodness, legally-binding married name. The matronly nurse turned boxing trainer was fond of saying how she didn’t make the name up, she married into it.

Although the obstinate Pineda constantly locked horns with Knuckles, she moved to the head of the class and became a mentor to many of the young girls who passed through the doors of the roach-infested little gym with rusted-out lockers and a practice ring that had a soiled canvas which seemed to have the springy consistency of a well-worn mattress.

Contained within a home for wayward youths, Dee’s humble establishment seemed to be the primary target for multiple instances of thievery and vandalism, as well as one case of arson. Knuckles believed this to be the handiwork of ne’er-do-wells looking to send a deliberate message that female boxing was unwelcome. Because the Harbor View House was located in a particularly rough area of San Pedro, the local cops were dismissive of her theory.

Taking all of these factors under consideration, Dee Knuckles had received nationwide media coverage and would parlay her recognition into helping Pineda make a successful bid to become the first woman to obtain a California State boxing license in January 1976. “My ring name is Liberation,” stated Pineda after getting the green light from the State Athletic Commission.     

While she waited for an opportunity to fight in her home state, Pineda took her first bout at the Sahara Hotel on Lake Tahoe in Nevada on March 18. It was reported that Pineda’s take home pay was a measly $50 for dropping a four-round decision to Theresa Kibby, otherwise known by her indigenous name ‘Princess Red Star.’ She admitted to being “petrified in the ring” but also angered by the Native American war cries emanating from the audience in support of Kibby, due to Pat’s being “part Spanish and part Indian.”

Shortly afterwards, Kim Maybee would be granted her license by the CSAC and become the “suitable opponent” the press were openly dubious would materialize to square off against Pat Pineda. Predictably, before the first punch was even thrown at the Forum, the first women’s bout in the state’s history was ridiculed by some as a “carnival.” Others, while less harsh in their criticism, were still skeptical.

”Maybee and Pineda are hesitant,” opined commission inspector George Johnson. “They’re not mean enough.” He had supervised the screening process for both female fighters, in addition to Diane Syverson, a third applicant already well-known as a roller derby girl whom Johnson said could “hit as hard as some men.” However, he maintained that all three had “limited ability.”

Howie Steindler, owner of the Main Street Gym where Maybee and Pineda conducted workouts and interviews prior to their fight, appeared unimpressed with their coordination. “Girls paw at each other,” he scoffed.

“We have to start somewhere. We can’t expect the same degree of proficiency as men at this stage of the game,” said CSAC executive officer Robert Turley. “But we don’t want this to become a sideshow act. We want a certain amount of dignity.” Turley confessed to having grave doubts about allowing the women to box until his thought process evolved after seeking the counsel of Althea Gibson.

The former professional golfer and tennis player who had been the first black woman to compete at Wimbledon and win the U.S. Open, was then serving as the New Jersey State Athletic Commissioner and told Turley about how her father refused to let her walk the streets of Harlem alone until she learned to defend herself. Kim Maybee’s introduction to fighting was very much the same, subjected to tough love at home so that she knew how to protect herself out in the streets. “If they jumped me, I’d jump back at them,” Maybee said of the neighborhood kids itching for a fight. “Mom said, ‘You get whipped and come home and you get whipped again.’”

“Maybe it isn’t unnatural today for girls to fight. Maybe it isn’t unladylike,” Turley reflected after his conversation with Gibson. “Girls fight. Boys fight. They fight each other. I guess our attitudes were established over the years.”

Kim Maybee had her priorities straight, that’s for sure. “You know, some girls just want to go out with a lot of guys and make a name sitting behind a typewriter,” professed Kim. “They don’t do nothing, and that’s not for me.” Maybee did admit that she considered pugilism more a means to an end rather than a passion. “It’s not that I like boxing,” she said. “But it’s something that’s there. I saw Pat on TV once and I wanted to fight her. I didn’t know she was so little, though. She looks like she comes to my kneecaps. I’ll be reaching down and she’ll be reaching up. It’s going to be weird!”

Indeed, Pineda, at five-foot-three, was just about eleven inches shorter than the supremely confident Maybee who, stretched out on the couch at the Main Street Gym, bragged to reporters about her rock-hard abs as she took out a fresh piece of ginseng to casually pop into her mouth as others might a stick of bubble gum. “It purifies the blood, man,” Kim explained. “I’m gonna be ready for this fight.”

Asked if she was concerned about her lack of boxing experience relative to that of her opponent, Maybee replied, “Pat can hit me all she wants, but I will not fall. One thing I worry about is Pat’s face. She is pretty. Wow! If I hit her—I’ve seen the aftereffects of hitting someone in the jaw,” she cautioned. “I figure one round. That’s all I need.” As it would turn out, Kim’s prediction wasn’t too far off.

Maybee did have some anxious moments at the weigh-in, however, when she nearly had to forfeit her spot on the card to Diane Syverson by coming in twelve pounds over the agreed-upon limit. She was able to sweat off five pounds in a steam room to get down to 160 while Pineda attempted to make up the difference by gorging on Chinese and Mexican food, bulking up to 154. The Commission was satisfied and allowed the matchup to proceed as planned. Syverson would have to wait her turn, though she would again cross paths with Maybee not too far down the road, and next time in a head-on collision. But, first thing’s first.   

With attendance at the Forum estimated at 7,600 spectators, Pineda and Maybee wore 10-ounce gloves and mandatory breast protectors for their history-making fight which was scheduled to go four two-minute rounds with Marty Denkin officiating. This seems to have been only the second bout to which Denkin had been assigned at the time. Upon his retirement in 2015, Denkin had refereed more than 1,500 fights—almost half of which were championship matches—and appeared on the silver screen in the familiar role of third man in the ring for Raging Bull as well as the third and fourth Rocky movies. It would be a short night at the office for Marty on April 28, 1976.

“She couldn’t take no more,” said Maybee after pummeling Pineda into submission inside of two rounds. “I wish I could have got a whole KO, not a technical one,” she lamented. Not at all unlike the schoolyard and gas station scraps Kim had instigated or gotten herself into one way or another, the outcome of her fight with Pineda was never in question.

The size differential between the two was startlingly evident, and perhaps Pineda was a bit sluggish after ingesting so much fatty food in so short a time. In the early moments of the second frame, the lanky southpaw trapped Pineda in a corner where all Pat could hope to do was ward off the barrage of incoming punches. Marty Denkin pulled Kim off a virtually defenseless Pineda and directed her to a neutral corner where Maybee celebrated with her version of the Ali shuffle. After administering a standing-eight count, Denkin issued a query to Pineda regarding whether she wanted to continue or not. Receiving a mere shake of the head by way of response, Marty waved the one-sided affair off with more than a minute remaining on the clock.

Back in the dressing room, sportswriters seemed more interested in finding out if Kim Maybee indulged in appropriately girlish extracurricular activities. “I know how to knit, but it’s a waste of time,” she retorted. “But I can cook. Now,” Kim said before excusing herself, “I want to see my friends.” As for Pineda, she had come to the conclusion after just two bouts that professional boxing was not the life for her. “That was my last fight,” she commented humbly, off to pursue a marriage to the Merchant Marine she had been dating against Dee Knuckles’ wishes.

The purse money paid to both women varies depending on which account you read. Some say they each received $250, while others reported that Pineda got as much as $400 as opposed to $350 for Maybee. Public opinion on the fight itself was mixed at best, largely uncomplimentary. At least among the male contingency.

A writeup of the bout by Omer Crane of the Fresno Bee was titled “Fight Game Bottoms Out.” A Santa Monica dentist named Joseph Rosenberg, who was in attendance at the Forum, asked, “Is this sick, or is this sick?” He answered his own question by affirming, “It’s insanely sadistic to watch two women fight.” These sentiments were shared by Georgie Jerome, a grizzled and hardened trainer who said, “Anyone who puts a woman in the ring ought to be put in jail. Women aren’t built for fighting. It’s inhuman.” 

A former boxer identified as ‘Jolting’ Johnny Smith griped, “When we went in there it was kill or be killed. Those girls were dragging it. You can’t change the rules for them. They sell fights here, and it’s a fraud if they don’t produce what they promise. Make ‘em fight proper. Let ‘em get in there and kill each other.”

Former fighter and veteran trainer Jimmy Fujimoto expressed a backhandedly appreciative viewpoint. “Hell, it’s alright with me,” he said. “They fight in bars and streets, don’t they? In my opinion it’s okay.” Stan Shioi, a fellow longtime trainer, concurred with Fujimoto. “I think it’s good. You can’t deny women the right to perform, can you?” he ventured, albeit with a caveat of sorts. “You’ve got to have gimmicks to make money, to bring in the customers.” 

“It was a terrible fight,” grumbled Don Fraser, the event’s promoter, when the topic of the Maybee/Pineda fight was brought up a few months before his 2005 induction into the International Boxing Hall of Fame. “It wasn’t one of my shining moments.”  

Dee Knuckles, who signed Maybee shortly after the fight at the Forum, said, “I think women’s fighting is really going to climb. Many, like Kim, learned to fight in the street. And it’s all business—they diet, do roadwork, and throw real punches—just like men.” She was of the opinion that “Kim’s the best throughout the states right now.”

Wasting little time in between, Knuckles scheduled another unprecedented fight for Maybee, this one against Margie ‘KO’ Dunson on May 12 in Honolulu, the first female bout to ever take place in Hawaii. Hailing from Portland, Maine, Dunson had gone down to defeat in her two previous fights that year—suffering a TKO loss to Lady Tyger Trimiar in her February pro debut, then dropping a unanimous decision to Gwen Gemini on April 16.

Maybee required only an extra thirty seconds or so than she did against Pineda to dispatch Dunson, and Kim would have no regrets afterwards as to the decisive nature of this knockout. Dunson did little more from the outset than employ a peek-a-boo stance in a purely defensive struggle for survival while Maybee boxed circles around her, laughing all the while. Kim deposited Dunson onto the canvas with a right hook in the second round which put her clearly overmatched opponent down for the count at the 1:36 mark.

“I thought Maybee was a pretty good fighter,” said Hawaii State Boxing Commission executive secretary Bobby Lee, who had personally approved the bout. “But Dunson couldn’t fight a lick. I thought she got hit pretty good, but I thought she could have gotten up if she wanted to.” Overall, Lee had a dim view of women’s ability to compete as prizefighters. “You can call me a male chauvinist pig if you want to,” he insisted, “but girls just aren’t built to be boxers.”

Another first was soon in store for Maybee. The city of Fresno would host its inaugural women’s boxing match on June 12 at the Wilson Theater with Kim Maybee taking on Diane Syverson. Since trading in her roller derby skates for a pair of boxing gloves earlier in the year, Syverson had dueled to a draw with Theresa Kibby in her pro debut that May and was awarded a split decision victory in their rematch. Diane’s trilogy of fights against trailblazer and future hall of famer Lady Tyger Trimiar at the Olympic Auditorium, in which Syverson was bested by a two-to-one edge, was still a few months away.

This was a tough matchup stylistically for Maybee, who was frustrated to the point of scowling throughout the fight by Syverson’s stick-and-move brand of aggression. Kim was also bothered by the repeated rabbit punches thrown by Syverson as well as referee Hank Elespuru’s seeming reluctance to take any action against Diane for these infractions. “I told you to tell her to watch it!” Maybee could be heard screaming at Elespuru. 

A wardrobe malfunction midway through the third round was a clear indication that this just wasn’t Maybee’s night. Her breast protector popped loose and needed to be dealt with. Promoter Sammy Saunders, who worked Kim’s corner for the fight, was tasked with taping it back into place. Sammy’s first effort failed to hold and the protector was again readjusted amidst a chorus of hooting, hollering, and catcalling from ringside.

With 40 seconds left in the fourth and final round, an exasperated Maybee turned her back to Syverson and retreated to her corner, refusing to engage any further. Hank Elespuru had no other choice than to initiate a ten-count which Kim ignored, resulting in a “No Mas”-type capitulation four-plus years before the infamous Leonard/Duran incident.

“Boxing won’t pay the bills. The future? I’m not going to say. I don’t know,” mused the victorious Syverson who was giving serious consideration to becoming a policewoman. “I fought the kind of fight I had to tonight. It was more slugging. My other bouts were more boxing—more skill involved.”

Former welterweight world champion Ralph Giordano, who won 122 career bouts between 1919 and 1940 under the name Young Corbett III, was present for the fight at the Wilson Theater. “Yeah, it’s sport, it’s entertaining. But the girls are still developing and they’ll come along,” he theorized with cautious optimism. “I didn’t think it would be any rougher than it was. They’re used to this kind of stuff. I don’t know if it’ll stay around, but I thought they did a pretty good job.” However, he ended by confessing, “No, I wouldn’t go out of my way to see another one—not the kind I saw tonight.”

Things would continue to go downhill from there for Maybee, culminating in an acrimonious split from Dee Knuckles in August. “I signed a four-month contract with Dee Knuckles after my first fight in Los Angeles,” she told the press. “She made a lot of promises. She’s not a good lady.”

A recent trip to Japan booked by Knuckles for Maybee to earn $500 competing in a mixed match against a female professional wrestler (whom Kim knocked out) was not all it was cracked up to be. “Dee told me we would stay in all the best hotels. In Japan, our hotel had cockroaches that were one-and-a-half inches long. And she said she’d pay my tuition at school, and give me an apartment. She has not done any of these things,” grouched Maybee who, at the time, lived platonically in a Hollywood apartment with her trainer Ali Brown.

“Kim’s young,” Knuckles responded offhandedly to Maybee's allegations. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying half the time.”     

The final fight on record in the brief boxing career of Kim Maybee is a four-round points loss to the great Lady Tyger on September 26, 1977 in Stockton, California. What happened to her from there seems to be anybody’s guess.

Not even Sue Fox has any leads to go on. And seeing as how Sue was a pugilistic contemporary of Maybee’s in the 1970s and is now the preeminent women’s boxing historian and archivist, if she doesn’t know then good luck finding out for yourself, because that is highly unlikely.

Wherever Kim Maybee may be (sorry, I couldn’t help myself), I hope that she is alive and well, peaceful and content, yet maintains that same fighting spirit that defined who she was in her youth.

 

Sources:

Cheryl Bensten. California Has Its First Ms. Match (Los Angeles Times, April 27, 1976)

Omer Crane. Fight Game Bottoms Out (Fresno Bee, April 30, 1976)

Anthony Delano. OK—It’s a KO (London Daily Mirror, February 26, 1976)

Jim Easterwood. Boxing Tale of Tape May Take in Curves (Honolulu Star-Bulletin, May 5, 1976)

Dave Koga. Coed KOs Foe In Hawaii Bout (Pacific Daily News, May 15, 1976)

Robert Lindsey. Women Try Boxing on the Coast (New York Times, May 1, 1976)

Eddie Lopez. Women Will ‘Grace’ Ring (Fresno Bee, June 10, 1976)

Eddie Lopez. Powder-Puffers Please (Fresno Bee, June 13, 1976)

Bob MacDonald. Old Boxing Law Fades Into Past (Escondido Times-Advocate, May 4, 1976)

Ed Meagher. In This Corner…A Woman (Los Angeles Times, January 14, 1976)

Donna Sansoucy. Watch It, Men—The Women Are Ready To Fight (Torrance Daily Breeze, July 14, 1974)

Jack Stevenson. The Lady Has a Punch (Bakersfield Californian, April 29, 1976)

Dee Knuckles Interview (Torrance Daily Breeze, February 29, 1976)

Dee Knuckles, Kim Maybee Split (New Orleans Times-Picayune, August 7, 1976)

Forum Follies, The Asylum (Los Angeles Times, April 1, 1976)

Girls Learn Boxing Techniques (Los Angeles Times, June 1, 1975)

Lady Boxer Not Overly Excited (Abilene Reporter-News, April 27, 1976)

$1 Million Couldn’t Have Saved This Baby (Reno Gazette-Journal, March 1, 2005)

Natasha Jonas Leaps Up Three Weight Classes, Floors Chris Namus Twice To Capture First World Title

For the seemingly perennial tough-luck world title challenger Natasha Jonas, the third time proved to be the charm. On May Day 2021, former Olympic foil Katie Taylor just barely squeaked past Tasha in defense of her undisputed lightweight title and, nine months prior, Jonas fought to a controversial split draw with then-WBC/IBO super-featherweight champion Terri Harper. 

Saturday evening at Manchester Arena, Jonas at long last claimed her proverbial glass slipper, in the form of the WBO super-welterweight world title belt, to achieve the heretofore elusive happy ending that had been missing from her pugilistic Cinderella story. And she certainly didn’t need any Prince Charming to come to her rescue to get it.

Unlike some antiquated Disney princess, Tasha is more than capable of shaping her own destiny, thank you very much. Not that former world titleholder Chris Namus (25-6-0, 8 KOs) was going to sit quietly by and settle for being some poorly developed ancillary character in Jonas’ fairy tale. And yet, this is precisely what would happen.

When Tasha’s original opponent, Ewa Piatkowska, tested positive for Covid eight days out from fight night, Namus stepped up to bat as a late replacement. Having competed just twice in the last three years (outpointing Yamila Esther Reynoso in a 2019 six-rounder and dropping a unanimous decision to then-WBF and WIBA middleweight world champion Ema Kozin), Namus previously held the 154-pound IBF title. She and Jonas would be squabbling over proprietary rights to the vacant WBO strap in the same weight class.

This represented a significant weight differential from Jonas’ previous campaigns at lightweight (135) and super-featherweight (130). The question going into Saturday was, how would she be affected by carrying around twenty extra pounds against a boxer fighting in her natural weight class? And as far as Namus was concerned, how long would it take for her to shake off sixteen months' worth of accumulated ring rust with only a week's worth of preparation?

The answers to those questions became quite clear in no time at all once the bell rang in Manchester. Twice denied hard-fought championship glory, the 37-year-old Tasha simply would not be turned away again. Looking every bit as fleet of foot at 149 pounds as she had at her career-low 129, Jonas bounced on her toes and made use of her movement to make Namus follow her lead. However, she also displayed no reluctance in attacking the bigger, taller, and stronger yet slower and more stationary Namus behind her right jab, peppering the former world champion with straight lefts and keeping her adversary in check courtesy of well-timed right hand counters. 

Jonas landed a flush left hand lead over Namus' ponderous jab and followed it up with a right hook that sent the Uruguayan to the canvas for only the second time in her career, having previously been floored by Loli Munoz in their 2011 rematch which Chris would win by split decision regardless. With little time left in the opening frame as action resumed following referee Howard Foster's eight-count, Jonas nevertheless tried to close the show but to no avail.

The woman they call 'Miss GB' wouldn't have to wait long though, as she decked Namus again in the early moments of round two, this time with a straight left down the pike. Despite beating the count, Namus was not given the benefit of the doubt by Howard Foster, who waved the fight off at the 28 second mark. Chris' protestations notwithstanding, her corner appeared to have been on the verge of stopping the fight themselves, and Jonas' dream was suddenly made a reality.     

"You know what, I can't even put it in words. People think I exaggerate when I say it means everything, but they honestly don't know the sacrifices that not just boxers, but every athlete goes through. I've been through hell and back. I've been through ups and downs," acknowledged Jonas with the WBO title belt draped over her shoulder and a huge smile on her face. 

"I've got the best supportive family and friends in the world," the new champion continued, reserving the most special post-fight shout-out for her daughter Mela. "Mommy did it. This is for you. She's bringing the belt home."

Athletic Commissions and Hepatitis and Refereeing, Oh My: The Pugilistic Yellow Brick Road Traveled by Baby Bear James

 

“Two years ago I’d never believed I’d be boxing today,” admitted Baby Bear James in 1978 while preparing for her junior-lightweight world title fight against Toni Lear Rodriguez. “Nobody likes to get hit, but I have the ability. I can take a punch. I’ve gotten black eyes sparring with guys in the gym, but I can hold my own.”

Baby Bear’s journey toward championship contention began in Cheltenham, England where she was born Tansy Louise James. Only a young girl when her mom passed away, Tansy and her three older brothers were raised by their dad, who shared his passion for the fight game with his daughter.

“Without my father knowing it, he may have influenced me getting into boxing,” James reflected. “We loved Muhammad Ali. We used to sit together and watch him on television.” Although she insists she “wasn’t a tomboy,” Tansy was left little choice in the matter of learning to fend for herself amongst her trio of rough and tumble male siblings.  

Then weighing a stocky 180 pounds, Tansy migrated to Canada in her late teens to take work as a live-in nanny. James supplemented her income with sportswriting assignments on a freelance basis. She is also credited with having co-written a 1976 song entitled “Thoughts” which was performed by Mel Moore and released on Sterling Records. Inspired to begin boxing as a way to both get in shape and better learn her way around the sporting world from an insider’s perspective, this led to a fortuitous introduction to Vern Stevenson. A widower and former middleweight then in his mid-50s, Stevenson had invested his entire $200,000 life savings into a venture as manager, trainer, promoter, and matchmaker specific to women’s boxing.

“He said I had natural talent. And from day one he trained me,” said Tansy of the benefactor who nudged her toward becoming a practitioner in the hurt business. “People say I’m well-schooled.” Her daily training regimen consisted of five mile runs, jumping rope, shadow boxing, and punching the heavy bag. Two years later and more than fifty pounds lighter, Baby Bear was well on her way to her date with potential world championship glory. Though the road would be bumpy, James would have Stevenson with her every step of the way, not just as her manager but her husband as well.

Fight fans and reporters alike couldn’t help but be curious about the origins of her unusual choice of nickname. “For some reason I’ve always liked bears,” Tansy mused. “Baby bears are cute and cuddly, but there’s nothing more terrible than a bear when it’s aroused.” When she was given a standing-eight count in her first fight, the beast emerged from within. “I thought he was stopping the fight and I went crazy because I knew I wasn’t hurt,” said Baby Bear. “When we began again I went ballistic. They said I fought like a baby bear and the name stuck.”

As a result of faulty memories, unreliable record keeping, and a general lack of media coverage given to women boxers of that era, the particulars of James’ record are hard to get a handle on. This, of course, is far from unique to the earlier generations of female pugilists. All five bouts in her rookie year of 1976 seem to have been contested on Canadian soil, most of them in the southwestern Quebec town of Granby, roughly an hour east of her adopted hometown of Montreal.

Baby Bear later remembered her aforementioned pro debut being a knockout of Genevieve Thibault that January, following that up by mangling three additional opponents before the final bell—Elizabeth Lefebvre, Marie Francoise, and Louise Guyana in March, July, and October respectively.

However, contemporary newspaper accounts contradict these recollections to some extent. An October 20, 1976 article in the Montreal Star reported James’ TKO victory over New York State lightweight champion Joanne Gilmore. Wearing eight-ounce gloves, Baby Bear sent Gilmore to the canvas courtesy of right hands on two occasions in the third round, and Joanne was either unable or unwilling to answer the bell for the fourth.

And, although James recalled having fought to a four-round draw with Diana May Brown in December 1976, Pat Harmon of the Cincinnati Post offered an account which gives the date of that fight as September 12. “Other information requested, such as her other fights and her opponents, has not been supplied,” wrote Harmon.

“I was told she was a novice, but she moved like Ali and hit me from all angles with her great combinations, so I had my doubt,” recalled Baby Bear James of Diana May Brown (or Tiger Brown, as she was referred to by Pat Harmon in the Cincinnati Post), further muddying the waters. “I was later told she was Gwen Gemini, but that was never confirmed.” Gemini is supposed to have been locked in a showdown opposite Theresa Kibby in Sacramento, California on September 14 which, accepting all of these variables at face value, makes the allegation regarding Diana Brown’s assumed identity extremely far-fetched.        

Furthermore, in December 1976, Baby Bear James had evidently relocated to Miami and was otherwise engaged, having become unwittingly embroiled in a controversy with the Cincinnati Boxing and Wrestling Commission over her proposed appearance on an upcoming fight card in the Queen City.

With ‘Hawk Time’ still in its professional infancy, promoter Steven Reece was putting together a card at the Cincinnati Convention Center on January 14, 1977 partially as a showcase for the second fight in the young career of future light-welterweight world champion and hall of famer Aaron Pryor. If Reece had things his way, the ‘Hawk’ would have shared the occasion with Baby Bear, as Tansy was to have been matched against Joanne Lutz in one of the undercard’s special attractions. The City Athletic Commission, however, was having none of it.

“If this is approved I will resign from the Commission,” said Rollie Schwartz, an influential member with a reputation in amateur boxing that was known and respected nationwide. “I don’t want my name associated with this. It smells from bad cheese.” Schwartz was quick to point out that the pronouns used in the Commission’s rulebook were distinctly and deliberately of the male variety.

Commission Chairman Richard Castellini added that the “proper costume” mentioned in the regulations called for “shoes, trunks, and cup” with no other apparel to be permitted. Ostensibly, this literally and figuratively ruled out women from competing with the absurd exception being, as it was suggested in jest by Bob Hertzel of the Cincinnati Enquirer, “the women would have to go topless.”

Even if the Commission agreed to hold a special meeting to debate the matter, Rollie Schwartz clung steadfast to his opposition. “This is the antithesis of women’s lib. It is exploiting women,” he professed, calling the very notion of a female fight “a wrestling act, burlesque. It is an attempt to fool the public.” The thing of it is, though, the bout between Baby Bear James and Joanne Lutz, contrary to statements made in the press crediting the potential matchup with being the first of its kind in Cincinnati, would not have been completely unprecedented.

Featured on a card headlined by local welterweight prospect Fred Newbill and promoted by a company called Socko AC which was owned by Cincinnati Reds radio announcer Harry Hartman, trailblazers JoAnn Hagen and Audrey Miller came together at Cincinnati’s Parkway Arena on August 10, 1949 for a bantamweight exhibition consisting of four ninety-second rounds. “The girls really put on a bout,” enthused referee Tony Warndorf, who officiated the no-decision scrap. “I seem to remember that one of them wound up bleeding.”

As for Baby Bear vs. Joanne Lutz, it wasn’t to be. The Cincinnati Boxing and Wrestling Commission released a statement on January 1, 1977 in which they disallowed the women’s fight based on “the difference in their anatomy to men.” Promoter Steven Reece threatened litigation, proclaiming that he would take the case to the NAACP and the Ohio Civil Rights Commission, but whether he followed through at a later date or not, it ultimately made no difference.

Instead, Baby Bear James would travel to Las Vegas in January where she would be outpointed by Aggie Henry, losing for the first time in her brief career. A piece in the November 27, 1977 edition of the Kansas City Star announced a fight between Baby Bear, then #3 junior-lightweight, and top-ranked JoJo Thomas to take place on December 20 at the Memorial Auditorium. There is no documentation concerning whether or not this bout occurred, and James makes no reference to it in her reminiscences.

Nevertheless, Baby Bear was granted a crack at the vacant WWBA world junior-lightweight championship by squaring off against the vastly more experienced Toni Lear Rodriguez (reportedly 14-6 going into the fight) before a crowd of approximately 1,000 fans at Memorial Hall in Kansas City on January 14, 1978. The Women’s World Boxing Association, it bears mentioning (pardon the pun), was run by James’ manager and husband, Vern Stevenson. This experience was highlighted by Tansy’s encounter with her childhood idol Muhammad Ali at the legendary 5^th Street Gym where she trained for the bout.

Both women were paid $400 plus expenses for the ten-round title fight which went the distance and was won decisively by Rodriguez, who consequently took possession of the WWBA belt. Referee Jerry Morales expressed his opinion that “the women fought very well, even better than some of the men on the card.” Morales would prove to be influential to Baby Bear James in her next endeavor, which we will get to momentarily.

“We think this is going to put women’s boxing over,” said James hopefully back in her dressing room in the saturated Yogi Bear t-shirt she had worn during the bout. “It was the experience that was the difference,” she theorized. “She’s a good fighter, and with more experience I can take her.”

Rodriguez’s manager Don Dugger remarked that Baby Bear had “a helluva right hand. She had a jab on her but it was a little too slow for Toni.” Baby Bear initially blamed her lackluster performance on a neck injury which kept her from the requisite amount of sparring. Later, however, she would say, “I lost due to my untimely bout with hepatitis, which I’m sad to say finished my days in the ring. I was diagnosed with hepatitis, which laid me low shortly before my fight. I was so drained by the hepatitis. I had no stamina. Toni Lear was just too strong for me.” Seven months after their first go-round, hepatitis was indeed the reason given in the Kansas City Times for the postponement of a rematch between the two.

Rodriguez appeared to have little sympathy for Baby Bear James one way or the other, claiming she was misled, told that her adversary was a newcomer before their fight. “She got all the glory and I think it’s because I was the underdog,” Toni groused after seeing Baby Bear receive an invitation onto The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson despite her losing effort. “If they see you fighting to get to the top, you’re nothing. When we look like slobs, they want to put us on TV, but when we can fight, they don’t.”

In the meantime, Baby Bear had been sanctioned as a referee by the Kansas State Athletic Commission and would soon after officiate her first bout, a ten-rounder between middleweight prospects Leroy Green and Toro Revas, at Memorial Hall on March 17, 1978. Vern Stevenson told the press that Tansy was the first ever female referee, a claim that was printed repeatedly, not to mention erroneously. That distinction actually belongs to a pioneer of the 1930s and 40s by the name of Belle Martell (see my previous entry for Belle’s story).

Regardless of her rightful place in boxing history, James was mentored by Jerry Morales, who had refereed her title fight against Toni Lear Rodriguez and worked his way up to the status of Chief Referee as appointed by the Athletic Commission. Admittedly, he was a bit skeptical about women’s boxing based on potential medical complications, worrying that “It just doesn’t seem right. They could end up with breast cancer.” However reluctant at first, Morales saw his way to lending his support to Baby Bear's cause.

Two and a half months later, James presided over an entire evening’s worth of boxing and kickboxing matches, seven to be exact, plus a special attraction featuring the world famous Victor the Wrestling Bear. A defanged, declawed Alaskan black bear estimated to stand eight feet tall and weigh anywhere between 450 and 800 pounds depending upon who you talked to, Victor had appeared on The Ed Sullivan Show, in the movie Paint Your Wagon with Clint Eastwood and Lee Marvin, and during halftime at a 1975 Indiana Pacers game, to name just a few of his most notable outings.

Fitted with a muzzle and chained choke collar for precautionary measures (but also allegedly “drugged out of his mind”), when he wasn’t tussling with his owner Tuffy Truesdell during public appearances, Victor would perform in exhibitions opposite professional wrestlers the likes of Gorgeous George, ‘Rowdy’ Roddy Piper, and Wahoo McDaniel, as well as heavyweight boxing contender Chuck Wepner. Victor would be rewarded each time with a celebratory bottle of Coke. 

The night Baby Bear refereed Victor the Bear, his task was to take on any and every challenge from audience members intrepid enough to step between the ropes. Marshmallows were an essential part of the trick to keeping Victor docile, Baby Bear learned. “I was in good company,” she laughed. “As long as I fed him sweets, he knew not to wrestle me.”

The paper trail on Baby Bear James pretty much runs into a proverbial dead-end from that point forward, although she is said to have officiated a number of fights before retiring from the fighting life for good. When her boxing career was said and done, Tansy James returned home to England where she remarried, had five kids, and became an author of children’s books.   

 

Sources:

Mike Corrigan. Fistic Firsts (Montreal Star, October 20, 1976)

Terri Gunkel. Woman Fighter Says She Gets No Respect (Reno Gazette-Journal, December 1, 1979)

Pat Harmon. Some of the Truth About Baby Bear James (Cincinnati Post, January 11, 1977)

Bob Hertzel. Women’s Boxing Match Under Fire (Cincinnati Enquirer, December 28, 1976)

Bob Hertzel. Wedding Bells? Nope, They’re Fighting Belles and They Squared Off Here in 1949 (Cincinnati Enquirer, December 30, 1976)

Roland Julian. Women’s Boxing Match Disallowed (Knoxville News-Sentinel, January 1, 1977)

David Pincus. The Amazing True Story of Victor, the Wrestling Bear (Dead Spin, February 27, 2014)    

Mike Pryce. You Don’t Want to Pick a Fight With Baby Bear! (Worcester News, June 11, 2011)

Sherri Ricchiardi. Boxing For Women? It’s No Joke (Des Moines Register, January 29, 1978)

Bill Richardson. Baby Bear James To Referee Fight (Kansas City Star, March 8, 1978)

Diane Stafford. Baby Bear With a Roar (Kansas City Star, January 9, 1978)

Bill Turque. Baby Bear James Loses In Women’s Boxing (Kansas City Star, January 15, 1978)

Title Bout Here For Baby Bear (Kansas City Star, November 27, 1977)     

Baby Bear James Postpones Fight (Kansas City Times, September 23, 1978)

Fresno Investor Banks on Women’s Boxing (Hanford Sentinel, November 4, 1983)

Baby Bear James Profile on WBAN (Women’s Boxing Archive Network)

Who Better Than a Woman? Boxing Pioneer Belle Martell: First Female Promoter, Ring Announcer, Timekeeper, and Referee

 

The advent of talkies in the late 1920s not only irreversibly altered the landscape of motion pictures, but impacted several other major aspects of the entertainment industry. For example, by the time most theaters nationwide were wired for sound in 1930, vaudevillians who had performed at many of these same venues found themselves on the opposite side of the stage door, to enter never again.

Standing now at an existential fork in the road, these folks were confronted with a multitude of different directions, many of them uncharted and some unappealing, from which to choose a new career path that they might find suitable from that point forward.

After more than two decades in show business, juggler, acrobat, and former boxer Art Martell chose to return to the familiar terrain of fistiana. Belle, a contortionist, trick rider, and singer who was also his spouse, was initially less than enthusiastic about the prospect of joining Art's reentry into the world of prizefighting. "I told him that was one thing I knew nothing about so I'd settle down to be a housewife," Belle at first conceded. However, she joked that "I simply couldn't keep my nose out of my husband's business." 

Though boxing was indeed a road less traveled for Belle, who had also worked as a stunt woman and extra at Essanay Studios (one-time home to Charlie Chaplin), she would quickly acclimate, using her natural intellect and no-nonsense brand of determination to ultimately blaze fresh trails of her very own.  

"The first time I ever saw her, 34 years ago in a hotel lobby, she was bawling out her stage partner," Art recollected in a 1954 interview. "I said to myself, 'Heaven help the man who marries her!' So I did marry her, Heaven has helped, and maybe the Martell Magic will help put amateur boxing back on its feet again."

Art converted the garage of their Van Nuys home into a boxing gym where he would mentor aspiring Golden Glovers whose bouts he would also promote at clubs in and around Southern California. Future three-division world champion Henry Armstrong was just one of the many beneficiaries of the Martells' altruistim. 

Art's required absences increased at more or less the same rate as Belle's knowledge of the sweet science. So much so that she slowly transitioned from merely timing the sparring sessions and workout routines to assuming a much more hands-on role in the training of their 40 amateur fighters. Quite literally.

One "chin-crazy kid," as Art described him, needed to be reminded time and again by Belle to keep his arms tucked tight against his sides. The young man didn't take kindly to being advised by a woman and had no problem letting Belle know it. Which is when she exited the practice ring. Only to gear up and return, proceeding to deliver a message-sending blow to the solar plexus of the insolent boy. Lesson learned, needless to say. "I knocked him out and he saw then what I was trying to tell him," recalled Belle. 

In 1930, Art and Belle began co-promoting amateur shows at the famous Jeffries Barn. Located at the corners of Victory and Buena Vista Boulevards in what was then downtown Burbank and has now been incorporated into modern-day Hollywood, the building was erected on the 107-acre property belonging to former heavyweight champion, James J. Jeffries, with its once-sprawling alfalfa farm. The popularity of this shared endeavor of the Martell couple can be evidenced in Belle's estimate that "we were turning away 500 cars on top nights." Around this same time, Belle hosted a radio show on KMTR she called "Old Man Boxing," regaling listeners with tales of pugilism's past.

Feeling as though her twenty-two years' worth of experience working the crowds during her many days spent on the vaudeville circuit were going to waste, Belle decided to step beneath the spotlight as a ring announcer. She was given the opportunity to do so at various venues including the world renowned Olympic Auditorium in Los Angeles, a historic first for a female. The way Belle looked at it, "no one else seemed to have the necessary stage sense and timing to introduce fighters and ringside celebrities."

Speaking of timing, Belle next turned her attention toward obtaining a timekeeper’s license, becoming the first ever woman to serve as such in an official capacity at places like the Olympic which welcomed her back again. "Belle always gets across," beamed Art. "It isn't every man who has a wife with a one-two punch."

Belle's prior affiliation with the Olympic Auditorium opened the door for her and Art to stage weekly amateur boxing cards there. At first drawing only 300 or so hardcore fight fans, attendance at the Martells' Olympic co-promotions eventually swelled to crowds as large as 9,000 as Belle's reputation grew appreciably in the public eye.

In fact, a petition bearing several thousand signatures was handed over to the California State Athletic Commission in an effort to secure Belle a seat at the table. Though grateful for the recognition, Belle declined so that she could continue to focus on staging the amateur shows at the Olympic. 

Now a youthful, attractive, and ambitious 45 years of age, Belle set her sights on ever loftier horizons in 1940 when she applied for a license to become an officially sanctioned referee. Tutored in preparation for the 100-question entrance exam by Willie Ritchie, former lightweight world champion and then-Chief Inspector of the CSAC, Belle scored a record-breaking high of 97.5, and was sworn in by Commissioner Jules Covey on April 20. 

Belle promised to stick with the regulation grey flannels so as to alleviate any concerns some may have had regarding vanity. "But I'll wear a skirt," Belle acknowledged. "No trousers." She would carry facial tissues in her blouse pocket with which to wipe away blood or handle a mouthpiece in a sanitary manner. 

The May 2, 1940 edition of the San Bernardino County Sun ran an ad promising "Fights Tonight" at the S.B. Athletic Club. The main event pitted Savas Robledo against Joe Bell with "7 Other Good Bouts" featuring "Lady Referee—Belle Martell." What was the audience reaction? "Her first job," it was reported in the papers, "went off without mishap. The fans seemed satisfied." 

One week later in Pasadena, 700 spectators witnessed Martell count to ten over the prostrate form of John Archuleta, who was knocked out cold in the second round by a fighter going by the name Johnny Mongz. "When the fallen man arose," concluded a writeup in the Los Angeles Times, "the Belle of the ring gently took his hand, led him to a place of safety." Belle was originally supposed to have officiated every match on the card, but the notion allegedly made the Athletic Commission "jittery" and her duties were scaled back to the one bout. After the fights, Belle hurriedly changed from her referee's outfit into a dinner dress more appropriate for the party she attended afterwards.

"Boxing is a fine sport, and amateur clubs do a great thing in keeping boys and young men off the streets and out of mischief," offered Martell in response to naysayers insisting that the boxing ring was no place for a female. "It teaches self-defense, sportsmanship, clean living, and the care of the body. Who is better qualified to teach these things than a woman?"

Obviously, there was resistance enough to the very idea of a female referee to cause the CSAC to reverse course and revoke Belle's license a mere five weeks after it was issued. "A rule was passed in which only males may be granted licenses to act as referees, boxers, wrestlers, seconds, or any other capacity which requires that person be present in the ring during an amateur or professional boxing or wrestling contest or exhibition," read the rather verbose statement released to the press by the Athletic Commission. "The rule was made retroactive, automatically cancelling licenses or permission granted to members of the opposite sex." 

Even if this disappointing change of events did not deter Belle from continuing to promote her and Art's amateur fight cards, it effectively kept her on the outside of the prize ring looking in. Until January 1943, that is, when the Commission-appointed referee sent to preside over a night of fights ran out of gas and couldn't make the event promoted by Belle. If only out of sheer necessity, Martell was called into action and officiated the entire card, working the first half in a long black velvet hostess gown she had worn for the occasion before getting the chance to slip into referee's attire during the intermission. 

Not only that, she simultaneously timed and announced every last bout as well, meaning that she had to wear all four hats (promoter, referee, timekeeper, ring announcer) on the same night. "It definitely made boxing history," summarized the U.P. report, "of a pleasant sort, for a change."

This was a one-time-only refereeing comeback, and the Martells soon after decided that the moment was right for a semi-retirement of sorts. Belle put on shows during the war years to benefit the Woman's Ambulance and Defense Corps, in which she served as Lt. Colonel. She organized numerous War Bond drives, recruiting the likes of Abbott and Costello to help raise in excess of $800,000. Otherwise, Belle took advantage of her newfound leisure time to become an active leader of the Benevolent Thespians Association. But, by 1952, the Martells were feeling the itch to toss their hats back into the boxing ring. 

They took possession of what Valley Times sportswriter Chuck Sexauer described as a "small-scale ghost town" surrounded by a picturesque redwood forest for the purpose of setting up what would double as a training camp and amusement center. Just off Colorado Boulevard, the centerpiece of the property at 4911 San Fernando Road in Glendale was a sizeable building that suited their needs perfectly. 

Once a winery, it became known as Belle Martell Arena Gardens and housed a practice ring, performance stage, café, bar, shower stalls, and dressing rooms. An outdoor ring was also erected adjacent to a derelict collection of oversized wine vats which were repurposed into living quarters for boxers in need of a place to stay. In the hopes of reaching as many youths from the surrounding areas as possible, the Martells' services were rendered free of charge. 

Belle felt strongly that the venue which got its name from her also pay homage to the proud history in show business which she shared in large part with her husband. Art was in complete agreement. The Belle Martell Arena Gardens would, therefore, cultivate local talent in the form of actors, singers, comedians, and entertainers of all varieties who would actively participate in reviving the glory days of old vaudeville. 

Hard times and poor health were to plague Belle by the early 1960s. Stricken with crippling arthritis and other ailments which necessitated extended hospital stays or remaining bedridden at home in Van Nuys, the woman who gave so much to help so many was now the recipient of compassionate generosity. 

An all-star vaudeville show held at the Troupers Club Playhouse in Hollywood raised some much-needed funds for the aging and ailing Martell, as did a fight film festival featuring highlights from the careers of Gene Tunney, Sam Langford, Jack Sharkey, Jim Jeffries, Jess Willard, Les Darcy, Georges Carpentier and many others hosted by the House of Serfas, a View Park hangout for athletes and sports enthusiasts alike.  

Belle passed away at the age of 77 in 1972, gone but by no means forgotten. She left behind not only her beloved husband Art, who would die four years later, but a unique legacy built on numerous historic accomplishments which will live forever.  

Sources:

Jane Cochran. Belle Martell, of Los Angeles, Is Regular Fight Announcer and First Licensed Woman Timekeeper (Wilkes-Barre Times Leader, September 6, 1939) 

Jeanne Hoffman. Martells Sure Cure For Ailing Amateur Boxing in Southland (Los Angeles Times, May 9, 1954)

Thom McGraham. Artful Artie Reflects on Colorful Past (Van Nuys Valley News, May 16, 1974)

Robert Myers. There's A Place For Women In Boxing Says Woman Referee (Harrisburg Telegraph, June 4, 1940)

Claude Newman. Grand Lady Remembered For Her Deeds (North Hollywood Valley Times Today, December 8, 1961)

Cecilia Rasmussen. 1st Woman Boxing Referee Rolled With Punches (Los Angeles Times, May 21, 2006)

Chuck Sexauer. Innocent Bystander (North Hollywood Valley Times, June 4, 1952)

Belle Martell Loses License (Pasadena Post, May 25, 1940)

Belle Martell Makes Debut (Los Angeles Times, May 10, 1940)

Benefit For Belle Martell (Hollywood Citizen-News, September 22, 1962)

Fights Tonight (San Bernardino County Sun, May 2, 1940)

First Woman Referee Puts Pulchritude in Pugilism (Bradford Evening Star and Daily Record, May 17, 1940)

Woman Handles Boxing Program (Raleigh News and Observer, January 24, 1943)

Woman Will Referee California Battles (Spokane Spokesman-Review, April 21, 1940)

Jamie Mitchell Impresses in First WBA Bantam Title Defense with Stoppage Victory Over Carly Skelly

 

Contrary to her ring moniker, Jamie 'The Miracle' Mitchell has never been one to rely on divine intervention. Everything Jamie has achieved both inside the ring and, even more importantly, in the brutal world beyond the ropes, has been the byproduct of a work ethic which is as tireless and vital as her faith in herself. 

To put in another way, Mitchell has spent her entire hardscrabble life, from abandoned and abused child to world bantamweight champion, making her own miracles happen. 

Mitchell's maiden defense of the 118-pound WBA title she won by defeating former champion Shannon Courtenay, who lost the belt the day before the fight when she weighed in 2 and 1/2 pounds over the bantamweight limit, came Saturday evening in Phoenix against British challenger Carly Skelly. 

The 35-year-old southpaw from Liverpool turned pro in 2019 after a brief and unremarkable amateur career, outpointing Bec Connolly over four rounds. A part-time nurse and full-time mother to two young boys, Carly remained unbeaten in five fights coming into the weekend, her record marred thus far only by dueling to a split draw with Amy Timlin on Halloween night 2020. Skelly's last outing occurred nearly a full year later when she outpointed Dorota Norek last October to claim the WBC International bantamweight strap.

Skelly took the fight to Mitchell from the opening bell, invading the champion's real estate albeit in somewhat sloppy fashion. Mitchell was unfazed by her challenger's naked aggression, and caught Skelly coming in with a multi-punch combination that put Carly on the canvas just as time expired in the first round. 

Administered a mandatory eight-count, Skelly returned to her corner to clear the cobwebs and hit the reset button before the commencement of the following two-minute stanza. Carly didn't know it yet, though she may have sensed it to some extent, but she was running on borrowed time. 

Rather than jump on her compromised opponent and take an unnecessary risk in the process, Mitchell remained poised and patient, working behind her jab and settling into a comfortable rhythm. Timing Skelly's forward lunges, Jamie countered with left leads and right hooks, many of which rattled her challenger's cage. 

Yet again, Mitchell closed out the round by flooring Skelly in the waning moments. This time, a perfectly placed counter right hook caused a delayed reaction from Skelly as she froze in place, did a little unsteady two-step, and fell backwards onto her back pocket. Despite the vacant expression in her eyes, Skelly was granted a questionable reprieve by both the referee and her trainer who was keen on stopping the fight before the rest period had barely even begun.

Instead of pouncing upon Skelly at the bell for round three as might be expected after two knockdowns, the champion kept her cool and went back to work. She staggered Skelly with another right hook and followed up with a nice left that seemed to be the beginning of the end at the halfway mark, but the challenger wisely held on for dear life as Mitchell closed the distance with bad intentions, and the two combatants took a shared tumble to the mat in one another's arms. 

Skelly survived the third and managed to land a few shots of her own which produced a stream of blood from Mitchell's nose, but the end was nigh for the fighting nurse who was given the nickname 'Thumper' by her late grandmother, for whom Carly dedicated this bout. A clean left hook set the stage for the barrage of punches that followed and an outworked, overwhelmed Carly Skelly was swallowed into the arms of referee Wes Melton, who waved the fight off with 28 seconds left on the clock in round four. 

This stoppage was the fifth in eight wins for Jamie Mitchell at the professional level, an impressive statistic indeed for 'The Miracle' to cap off her first title defense. Mitchell pragmatically graded her performance a B-minus, insisting that "There's still things I want to work on." 

"She's gave me nothing but positive energy. She was open armed and welcomed me in and allowed me to share the ring with her to get more knowledge," said Mitchell when asked in a post-fight interview about her relationship and sparring sessions with former Team USA compatriot Claressa Shields, who was victorious over Ema Kozin in her UK debut earlier that evening, "Iron sharpens iron, and that greatness does rub off."  

Woe to anyone who underestimates or trivializes Jamie Mitchell. She is a woman on a mission and made it abundantly clear that she should be accorded all due respect after her four-round beat down of Carly Skelly. "I feel like people sleep on me," she acknowledged, "and I wanted to wake them up."  

Consider the alarm bell officially sounded throughout the bantamweight division. 

Claressa Shields Puts On Master Class Against Ema Kozin, Exchanges Verbal Jabs With Savannah Marshall

 

Making her UK debut against unbeaten, power-punching southpaw Ema Kozin was, judging solely by the numbers, a pretty risky proposition for Claressa Shields. 

On the line at the Motorpoint Arena in Cardiff, Wales on Saturday were not only Claressa's WBC, WBA, IBF, and Ring magazine middleweight titles, but the feverishly-anticipated unification fight against her arch rival Savannah Marshall looming ever closer on the horizon. Not to mention her self-applied reputation as the GWOAT of women's boxing. 

Besides Kozin's secondary WBF belt, which was additionally up for grabs, as well as her undefeated record, Ema had comparatively little to lose which made her a very dangerous adversary indeed. Her pre-fight remarks were indicative of this. "I see it as a huge opportunity and not as some kind of burden," said a relaxed and ready Kozin. "I don't feel any pressure because of who she is."  

With a lone blemish on her ledger in the form of a split draw with Irais Hernandez, which Kozin rectified by earning a lopsided decision in their rematch, the 23-year-old Slovenian had won 11 of her previous 21 bouts before the final bell. On the other hand, Shields threatened to "destroy" Kozin during a presser in the type of aggressive vernacular which has become ubiquitous in its usage by her, but is backed up by scant supporting evidence. 

Just two of her eleven victories as a professional have occurred inside the distance, both of these knockouts being of the technical variety with neither Szilvia Szabados or Nikki Adler touching the canvas. In fact, Shields has hit the deck an equal amount of times as her challengers. Claressa floored but failed to finish off Ivana Habazin last January, and suffered a first-round knockdown at the hands of Hanna Gabriels in June 2018. Her primary offensive asset is not natural strength but incredible hand speed which accounts for a high volume of punches. 

This very topic came up during discussions Shields had with Floyd Mayweather Jr. while she spent time training at his Las Vegas gym in preparation for the fight. "He told me something that I already knew, that with my punching power and my skills and everything, he said I need to calm down and the knockouts will come," Claressa said. "But the lack of knockouts isn’t because I’m not strong or fast or skilled. It’s because I’m always so anxious. He gave me some tips on how to be calm and go out there and see the shots and all that."

Why so much emphasis is put on the comparatively low percentage of stoppage victories in women's boxing is a little baffling. In this case, perhaps it's because of the imminent showdown between the slick, brisk-paced Shields and Savannah Marshall with her 81% KO ratio. There is no denying that a knockout is extremely fan-friendly for the dramatic thrill of it, but the presence or absence of one should neither define nor detract from the sheer excitement of a terrific, action-packed fight. The fact that this metaphorical exclamation point is sometimes not tacked onto the end of a suspenseful and engaging narrative that never once loses the plot does not in any way ruin the story, and the importance placed upon whether it is there or not kind of misses the point. But it keeps folks talking and interested and endlessly debating, which is never a bad thing.    

In any event, this intriguing stylistic contrast between Shields and her mandatory challenger matched Claressa's quick tempo versus a brute force with which Kozin hoped to prove that might makes right. Both women were bringing unique skill sets to the table in Cardiff, and this promised to make for an interesting night at the office to say the least.     

A two-division world champion, Kozin's last outing came in May 2021 when she put away the badly over-matched Radana Knezevic in the second round of a non-title bout. Her previous defense was a hard-fought unanimous decision over Chris Namus seven months earlier. It had been exactly eleven months to the day since Shields had last been competitively active as a boxer. 

Her 154-pound unification fight against Marie Eve Dicaire in March 2021 predated a pair of MMA skirmishes that rounded out her year, the second of which resulted in Shields' first loss as a professional athlete and only her second-ever defeat. The first, of course, was dealt to her by the aforementioned Savannah Marshall at the 2012 World Championships.   

Claressa's lengthy absence from the prize ring was mainly the result of a mounting frustration she felt at not being properly acknowledged or paid her worth. A two-fight, million-dollar deal with Boxxer Promotions and Sky Sports changed all that, and is believed to culminate in the Shields vs. Marshall grudge match that has long been near the top of every fight fan's wish list. 

The Shields/Kozin contest had been originally slated for this past December, but was postponed when co-headliner Liam Williams, who wound up getting dropped four times and blown out by Chris Eubank Jr. in Saturday's main event, withdrew due to a shoulder injury. Claressa Shields put on a performance in the evening's co-feature which was every bit as dominant, and arguably the finest of her career to this point. 

After feeling Kozin out for the duration of the opening two-minute frame, Shields began establishing her supremacy in round two by patiently and thoughtfully walking her opponent down and using her jab to create openings for lightning-fast, multi-punch  combinations. Investing heavily in body shots, Claressa cashed in on the opportunity to deliver blows to Kozin's midsection with a frequency and effectiveness we have never really seen from her before. This, she later revealed, was inspired by paying astute attention to Amanda Serrano.   

  

Working from a flatfooted, squared-up stance did Kozin no favors, making her an easier target for Shields' offensives while allowing her virtually no chance of getting off any power punches which may have possibly turned the tide in her favor at any given moment. The challenger's frustration was writ unmistakably upon her facial features and evident in her body language as she returned to her corner after the bell signaled the end of the second round. Things would not get any better for her, I'm afraid. 

Shields was as well-rounded, composed, and in complete command of the situation against Kozin as she has ever been as a professional athlete. Though never lacking in the department of a dedicated work ethic, the remarkable results she achieved so effortlessly on Saturday are commensurate with the development of her ring IQ as time has gone on. Defensively, Shields put on a clinic as well, ducking and dodging Kozin's occasionally earnest efforts and generally employing elusive head movement and lateral footwork to stick and move when the moment warranted it.

Flipping the script on her powerful opponent, Claressa nearly got the show-stopping climax she wanted halfway through the fourth round, trapping Kozin against the ropes and nailing her with a barrage of heavy-handed blows that necessitated a clinch on the part of her challenger to preserve her survival. Indeed, she seemed to be on the verge of attaining a stoppage on a handful of occasions throughout the remainder of the fight, and Shields would later grumble about referee Victor Loughlin's reluctance to halt the bout. This was simply a bit of sour grapes on Claressa's behalf. Even if she absorbed a large accumulation of punches, Kozin was never in the sort of apparent danger that would have called for the referee's intervention. 

Nevertheless, Shields retained her titles and pitched an impressive shutout in front of the appreciative fans in Cardiff by across the board tallies of 100-90. And then the fireworks truly began.

Savannah Marshall, sitting ringside and provocatively pretending to nap when the Sky Sports cameras focused on her during the Shields/Kozin fight, was brought over to where Claressa was situated after the rendering of the decision and asked to comment on what she observed.

"I think if you perform like that against me, I'll absolutely wipe the floor with you," said the typically mild-mannered Brit they call the 'Silent Assassin.' An incensed Shields  responded, "Guess what? You couldn't wipe my drawers. You can't do shit with me." The verbal back and forth escalated by Marshall mocking Claressa for "going ten rounds with an absolute child" and claiming that "people were walking out after round five." Referring to Shields as "pillow fists," Marshall vowed "I'll stop you," and repeated it for emphasis.

Shields called Savannah a "bum," yelling that "Femke going to give you so much hell" in reference to Femke Hermans who lost to Claressa in 2018 and will be squaring off against Marshall on March 12. "Where your gold medals at?" Shields screamed in Savannah's face after Marshall made dismissive mention of Claressa's "tattered necklace...that'll turn your neck green." 

"Zero." Shields shot back. "You got none." No doubt appreciating the ballyhoo but wisely acting to diffuse what was sure to become a physical altercation, ringside security and the promoters of both fighters stepped between the two before things got out of hand. When fists start flying, let it happen properly in the ring for a huge payday. It is hoped that will finally occur in June, following hot on the heels of the April 30 clash between Katie Taylor and Amanda Serrano at Madison Square Garden.        

The evening's curtain raiser saw former amateur standout and current lightweight prospect Caroline Dubois make good on her professional debut by taking a six-round decision from Vaida Masiokaite, a 34-year-old Lithuanian who had won only two of her twenty previous fights.   

Caroline is the sibling of top-ranked heavyweight contender David Dubois, who is supportive of his younger sister's pugilistic endeavor. After masquerading by necessity as a boy named Colin at the age of nine in order to gain admittance into a local male-only gym, Caroline would go on to lose just three of her forty amateur fights. 

A four-time European World Youth Champion and 2018 World Youth Champion, Dubois would scrap her way to a gold medal at the Youth Olympic Games that same year. She represented Great Britain at the 2021 Tokyo Olympics, losing by a single point to Thailand's Sudaporn Seesondee in the quarter-finals. 

Rather than bide her time for another crack at Olympic gold, Caroline opted to turn pro. Joining her big brother David in the stable of trainer Shane McGuigan, Dubois has signed exclusive contracts with Boxxer promoter Ben Shalom and broadcast network Sky Sports.