After making his maiden defense in California, he returned home to see off Medel in a rematch. He traveled to the backyards of the talented trio, Katsutoshi Aoki, in Japan, Johnny Jamito, in the Philippines, and Bernardo Caraballo, in Colombia, and stopped each of them.
In May ’65, Jofre took to the road again, returning to the ‘Land of the Rising Sun’, this time to face former flyweight world champion Fighting Harada. The Japanese challenger eked out a split decision that, to this day, Jofre contests.
‘Honestly I won that fight, and won well,’ he said defiantly. ‘I’m not saying that; everyone except the judges saw who won the fight. Japanese people on the streets cheered me (as) the winner. That attitude helped me contain the pain of losing my title and unbeaten record.
‘I had great support from my family and all the Brazilian people. The fight was hard, at first, because Harada was very fast and had a lot of energy but he also held me a lot. Because of the height difference, I took many headbutts. The judges didn’t take that into account; that hurt me a lot. What I like to remember is how well the people in Japan treated me with sympathy, great affection and friendship. I have great regard for the Japanese people.’
The two met a year later, again in Japan. Harada repeated his win, this time by unanimous decision. It prompted Jofre to retire from professional boxing.
‘After I lost the rematch to Harada, I lost the incentive to keep fighting,’ he said. ‘It was a very difficult stage in my life, with many doubts about the future: What to do?’
Although boxing was in his soul, Jofre stepped away from the sport and helped his aunt, who owned a circus. He fought in the circus and was very popular, traveling to various cities in Brazil performing.
However a friend of Jofre’s, whom was also the President of the Paulista Federation Pugilismo, Newton Campos, and his father helped motivate him to return to boxing, this time as a featherweight after a three-year absence.
He won 14 consecutive bouts in a near-four-year spell before he enticed Jose Legra to come to Brazil to face him in May of 1973. ‘Jofrinho’ (‘Lil’ Jofre’) relieved the Cuban of his WBC 126-pound title in a close fight, by majority decision.
‘Becoming world champion in two weight classes at 37 years old was magical for me,’ he said proudly. ‘It was proof that I still had something left. I won all 25 fights at featherweight. The first world title was for the Brazilian people; the second was for me.’
Later that year, Jofre knocked out future Hall-of-Famer Vicente Saldivar in four rounds in his lone title defense. He was stripped of his title in June ’74 but remained active, fighting seven more times – all victories.
He retired for good in the fall of 1976, exiting with a supremely impressive ledger of 72-2-4, with 50 knockouts.
During his Hall of Fame career – Jofre was inducted in 1992 – he fought everyone he wanted to … with one exception.
‘In my career I never had an easy fight. My record was built fighting class boxers and always well-ranked, former world champions, continental champions, among others,’ he said before playfully quipping.
‘In my time I was pleased to fight the best. If you could travel back in time and change (weight) category, who knows? Maybe against Muhammad Ali (laughs). Dreaming is always good.’
Jofre, now 82, was married to Maria Aparecida for 53 years, until her passing in 2013. He has two children, Marcel 52, and Andrea 47, and six grandchildren.
Since retiring in 1976, Jofre has led an active life.
‘My book came out in the ’80s,’ he said. ‘I began a political career and, in 1982, I ran for alderman in São Paulo. I stayed until 2000. From 2000 to date, I have been involved in some advertising and a great project that is the realization of a feature film about my life, to be released later this year.’ The Ring online article Anson Wainwright
[8.8] MARCO ANTONIO BARRERA 75-67(44)-7-1 [Lightweight & Super-Featherweight & Featherweight & Super-Bantamweight & Super-Flyweight]: The Ring online - Boxing News online -
Marco Antonio Barrera is proof that you can fall short of initial expectations, lose a bunch of fights and change your style to one that is actually less fan friendly than the one that made you a star in the first place, yet still find yourself inducted into the International Boxing Hall of Fame. Granted, we wouldn’t advise other fighters to follow the same route, but in Barrera’s case it worked out.
Barrera fought his way into the spotlight when all of Mexico was awaiting their next hero. The reigning icon, Julio Cesar Chavez, was still going strong in 1989 when Barrera, a 15-year-old flyweight from Mexico City – fighting with falsified papers because he was too young to box for pay – earned his first professional victory, a two-round TKO over another novice named David Felix. By 1996, when Barrera scored his 40th victory by stopping Kennedy McKinney in an unforgettable fight on a new HBO show called ‘Boxing After Dark’, Chavez was at the beginning of his career downturn. Boxing got lucky with Barrera. Just as Chavez was fading, it looked as if another Mexican-born slugger was on deck to take his place.
Of course, there were differences. Chavez was a party guy with a big smile, while Barrera was serious. Chavez was passionate and liked to spill some blood. Barrera was a thinker in the ring, earning a nickname that ranks among the best in boxing annals: ‘The Baby-Faced Assassin’. Barrera was lighter on his feet than Chavez and had a prettier style, but he banged with his left hook in a way that hearkened back to great Mexican fighters like Ruben Olivares. Erik Morales, who was never quick to compliment Barrera, said after their bruising first bout, ‘He was the biggest puncher I ever faced in the ring.’
However, the same year as his star-making victory over McKinney, Barrera lost a shocker to Junior Jones. He lost the rematch, too. Then, admittedly depressed, he temporarily retired from the business. It turned out he wasn’t the new Chavez, after all. It took the boxing world a while to figure out exactly where Barrera fit in the scheme of things.
‘Calling him the next Chavez was a bit unfair, I think,’ said former HBO Boxing commentator Larry Merchant, who was on the broadcast of many Barrera bouts. ‘He looked like the successor to Chavez, the next in line to win the hearts and minds of the Mexican fans, but Barrera lost some fights, so there went the distinction. Chavez appeared imperially unbeatable, and was such a pure representation of the Mexican fighting heritage that to compare any young fighter to him is unfair.’
It turned out that losing some fights made Barrera even more fascinating, as watching him rise from the ashes time and again became one of boxing’s great joys. Many dismissed him after the losses to Jones, but he returned to win 14 of his next 16, transforming himself into a boxer instead of a brawler, leaving the ugliness of the trenches to snipe from the hills. The change in Barrera, and his ability to still brawl if necessary, inspired Hall of Fame trainer Emanuel Steward to call him ‘the most adaptable fighter in modern times.’
Barrera was dismissed again after Manny Pacquiao whipped him in 2003 at the Alamodome in Houston. We should’ve known better, for he’d notch another six victories, as well as The Ring’s Comeback of the Year award in 2004, plus a 2½-year term as WBC junior lightweight titleholder. When it was learned that an operation to alleviate headaches had left him with a small metal plate in his forehead, it was suggested that he retire. He didn’t; he kept winning. Even when he was past his prime and lost by technical decision to a younger and naturally bigger Amir Khan, he still came back and won two more bouts. Barrera’s final tally was 67-7 (44 knockouts).
He accumulated titles at junior featherweight, featherweight and junior lightweight. The Ring recognized him as featherweight champion from June 2002 to November 2003, and his record in title bouts was 23-5 (14 knockouts). Still, Barrera sometimes gave off an indifferent vibe to the whole title-belt rigmarole. And so it is with our memories of Barrera; we don’t really associate him with belts or title defenses. We remember his excellence in the ring. And we remember him as a key part of an era, perhaps the most important era in recent boxing history.
‘When the tectonic plates of boxing shifted from New York to the West Coast and to Mexico, Barrera was part of a major change that overtook the sport,’ Merchant told The Ring. ‘Think of the great smaller fighters at the time; the majority were Mexican, or Mexican-American. This was part of, if not the start of the globalization of boxing. American fans that had previously shown no interest in fighters who were not American were suddenly watching and enjoying fighters like Barrera, and Morales, and Ricardo Lopez, and (Juan Manuel) Marquez and others on a very long list. The smaller fighters replaced the heavyweights. There was something sincere about them. It was prizefighting the way it was supposed to be, with the fighters leaving it all in the ring. These were spirited kids with good stories, interesting pasts and great styles. And HBO was paying big bucks for these fights, not like Tyson money, but for the smaller fighters, it was big money.
‘It was a golden era, an indelible period. I can’t remember the featherweight division ever being so good. There were at least a dozen excellent featherweights all competing at the same time. You couldn’t have made it up. Barrera fought, and beat, most of them. There were fighters like Prince (Naseem) Hamed of England: brash, thrilling, an attraction. When Barrera fought Hamed, there was a feeling that Barrera was defending the faith of smaller fighters on both sides of the border.’
Barrera turned Hamed inside-out that night in Las Vegas in 2001. As Franz Lidz of Sports Illustrated put it, Barrera ‘conducted a masterly boxing clinic that left the Englishman looking as off-balance as a one-legged man in an arse-kicking contest.’
Barrera capped his performance in the final round by shoving Hamed headfirst into the padded turnbuckle. Barrera could be as dirty as anybody, and had a temper t’boot. Remember, he actually slugged McKinney at a press conference, and there were times he and Morales couldn’t be within 10 feet of each other without some pushing and shoving. In fact, one of the best punches of his career was thrown in his second bout with Pacquiao when referee Tony Weeks stepped in to separate the fighters. Seeing the opportunity, Barrera hit Pacquiao on the break and nearly dropped him. Barrera had a point deducted and lost a rather lopsided decision, but he sent Pacquiao back to the Philippines with something to remember him by. Granted, the punch probably came from Barrera’s frustration at not being able to solve Pacquiao’s style, but such antics didn’t keep his admirers from praising him as a gentleman.