Larry Merchant at 90: On life in boxing, his legendary Mayweather fight and the future of HBO
By Lance Pugmire Feb 17, 2021
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Larry Merchant went to his first boxing match at Madison Square Garden in the 1940s, then spent decades as a newspaperman in Philadelphia and New York before serving as HBO’s commentator from 1978-2012 – stationed ringside for more than half of the network’s 1,100-plus fight cards.
Few knew the sport like Merchant and even fewer remain as in tune with where boxing’s been, what it’s done and where it’s going.
So after Merchant turned 90 last week,
The Athletic spoke with him over the phone from his home in Santa Monica, Calif. for nearly 90 minutes. The chat netted all you’d expect from the master conversationalist – honesty, vivid remembrances and frank talk about the sport he devoted the second half of his life to.
I know you were recently vaccinated at The Forum parking lot. What does a typical day in the life of Larry Merchant look like now?
Since I was retired before the pandemic came, it’s not a whole lot different. We don’t go out to restaurants, shows, ballgames and whatnot, but when everything returns to normal, I suppose we’ll realize how much we were missing. But if you’re going to have to live through a pandemic, you might as well live in Santa Monica.
How does 90 feel?
It feels like I must’ve done something right. I’m not sure what it is, but I think going into the sports world made it more or less stress-free being a journalist. There were a lot of laughs. That helps the longevity. I’ve always been athletic on an everyday basis and I’ve tried to do the right things. I never smoked – which was a thing, with every movie star seeming to do it — and I never drank a cup of coffee and I inherited some pretty good DNA. All of those things came together in a cocktail of life.
Your vibrancy and intellect remain. It was less than 10 years ago when you and Floyd Mayweather Jr. had that famous post-fight exchange. Do you miss the work?
Sometimes I think that I do, but mostly I’m just a fan and sometimes when there’s a fight, I have a few fight-fan friends over and we watch it and we babble and I just kibitz, and it’s almost like I’m at ringside.
Your journalism chops were sharpened in the boxing city of Philadelphia at the Daily News where there was an intense competition among three newspapers. How did that allow you to develop as a journalist?
I had a few jobs before I went to Philadelphia and came there when I was around 24, becoming the sports editor and the columnist. Then I went to New York, where there were five newspapers. By culling through the best of the best, reading them, it was like a graduate course in journalism, an onsite version of a Nieman Fellowship at Harvard.
To compare yourself to whoever else was writing at a big event, comparing your story to theirs and learning from them, from Red Smith and Jimmy Cannon – who I got to know – along with many others as I traveled around the country. In one way or another, their work became inspiration. From Red Smith, there was humor. From Jimmy Cannon, I got that having a column is like show biz and if you’re up there on the stage, what you do from song to song or bit to bit, you have to leave the audience wondering, ‘What’s that bum up to now?’
It was more than sports. It was a great time of social unrest and resetting, culturally, whether it was civil rights, women’s rights, anti-Vietnam, how people dressed and spoke a new language. I was curious about all of that and some it was laid out in my columns. I had a different take on what a sportswriter should be doing. It didn’t always have to be about the major leaguers.
You had the ideal muse for all of that in Ali. Did he or something else draw you to boxing?
As a kid, boxing was just in the air – the most popular sport alongside baseball. Joe Louis was a champion virtually throughout my childhood, then I’d listen to fights on the radio. I read a lot about it, and through A.J. Liebling I learned how the atmospherics and the stories radiated from two guys fighting in the ring. I could remember listening to Henry Armstrong and Ray Robinson fights. Boxing was part of the dialogue of the times and I had an uncle who took me to a really good fight during World War II at the Garden. And that was that. In Philadelphia, I was absorbed into the fight scene there and covered a Sugar Ray Robinson-Carmen Busilio fight at Yankee Stadium when I was about 26. Sitting about 20 feet away from me were Hemingway and DiMaggio and I thought to myself, ‘I’m in the right place.’
When I was sports editor, I had an outstanding boxing writer, Jack McKinney, and when there was a big enough fight, I would cover it along with him. But I’ll let you know how we looked at boxing with so many fights … at some point, Jack McKinney got wind of the commission allowing two guys who had a fight on a construction job to step in the ring for two or three rounds in a club fight. The headline on the first piece Jack wrote was, ‘He called me a lousy bricklayer.’ The second piece the next day was headlined, ‘He is a lousy bricklayer.’ The result was they had to call fire trucks out because there were so many fight fans in Philly trying to get into the club, the Cambria, and the undercard fighters overwhelmed the main event. So some of the boxing entrepreneurs tried to then offer me money to make sure their fighters were acknowledged. That’s part of the fight game, too.
I’m sure you didn’t accept their money.
No. I told them, ‘That’s not the way it works.’
How did that lead you to the HBO job and can you discuss the responsibility you felt in that role?
I was at NBC doing stories, a little producing on the NFL weekend show and I had some ideas that were a little unusual – I think I was too avant-garde for them – but the cable industry came along and suddenly I was in demand after working some Ali fights. I worked on a boxing talk show for the best part of a year with some journalists on the panel. And then HBO asked me to come on and do their first live fight, with that fighter from Rahway State Prison, James Scott, and Eddie Mustafa. And I thought, ‘This is pretty cool.’
They were trying new things. Boxing was going through a low period. HBO was trying to still find its identity. And there was an open field, knowing if we had a lot of money to spend, we could get any fighter. And, you know, there was a 15-year period from the 80s through the 90s where HBO did every championship fight from lightweight to heavyweight. The field was open, and we created this monthly show with a string audience as young stars emerged – Sugar Ray Leonard, Tommy Hearns, Hagler – as it went on to become more of a thing than I ever realized.
Out of all those fights you worked, which was your favorite, and why?
I don’t know that I can pick one favorite. Hagler and Hearns and Leonard and Hearns. That first Leonard-Hearns was one of those rare major showdowns in a huge event where the fight lives up to and exceeds all of the expectations.
What post-fight interview do you recall as your best?
I often think of the Tyson-Douglas fight. Douglas had come into the ring a few weeks after his mother had died. The emotion of that, plus the emotion of fighting for the heavyweight championship and the emotion of fighting Mike Tyson I thought somehow galvanized Buster into fighting the kind of fight many of us thought he had in him, even though he didn’t really love boxing. His father was a good fighter and had a gym, and I had once seen his father fight at Madison Square Garden.
He was so emotional in the interview, he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t get words out. And for about 20-to-25 seconds, which is a lifetime in television terms, I just held the mic there. I didn’t say anything. I let him gather himself. And he finally did, talked about all these things. To me, that’s the best interview I ever did because I could hear myself thinking, ‘Larry, this is show and tell.’ And when the show is so good, whether it’s the fight itself or a moment like that, just shut up and let the pictures tell the story. The fact that Buster was so emotional, and it was so graphic, I thought, ‘OK, now I’m a pro at this.’
Tell me about that infamous Mayweather exchange following his knockout of Victor Ortiz quickly off of referee Joe Cortez’s break. It started with Mayweather draping his left arm around you and then went so downhill, with him saying you never gave him a fair shake, and you responding, ‘I wish I was 50 years younger and I’d kick your ass.’ Were you even aware there was the bad blood that ended up surfacing in that interview?
(Laughter) … I think there was bad corpuscles … Floyd, by his actions and words on ‘24/7’and in the promotion, invited scrutiny. I was certainly not the only one who recognized Mayweather at the time was avoiding the top fighters and those who called him out on it were not in his clack and he had us numbered. I was hardly the only member of the media who felt that way, but I was on television, so everyone saw it. That was the background.
Now, we have this highly controversial end to a big fight. Even though what he did was legal, from the audience’s point of view and the common-sense point of view, he sucker-punched an opponent. Now, almost as soon as the words came out of my mouth and as soon as he sensed I was going there – he’s very smart and he realizes this is going to be part of everyone’s view of the show and of Mayweather – he attacked me personally. ‘You don’t know anything about boxing. I’m going to tell HBO to fire you.’
I instinctively counter-punched with those lines that everybody knows about. You know, in a way, it was unprofessional in the sense that if you’re interviewing somebody or describing a fight, it’s not about you. It’s about the event. The people in the event. I’d subscribed to that belief system in journalism all my life. But now I had intuitively counter-punched. And that was personal. And so, you know, afterwards when I thought about it, it was over the line for me. As a professional. As a broadcaster. As a journalist. But it was a human reaction. And that’s OK. Hell, once in a lifetime, you had a human reaction to an event you’re covering … .
Many of us as reporters have found ourselves in a situation where our manhood is tested.
I couldn’t have made that moment up. I couldn’t have made up my response. It was intuitive in the heat of discussion. I didn’t understand in the moment that he was attacking me to draw interest away from what happened in the fight. He was trying to change the subject. And he did.
I was asking the questions that have to be asked in whatever event I’m covering. This one had a highly emotional atmosphere in the arena and people were engaged. Nothing on the back of their ticket said whether a sucker punch was legal. They were in an uproar. I think Floyd understood that.
Floyd ended up apologizing to you? Did he end up following up on his threat to have HBO fire you?
No, not that I heard of. He apologized. It was weird because we had a new head of sports at HBO, Ken Hershman. And now this happened on camera. Afterwards, he sent word to me that I shouldn’t talk about it. Actually, Hershman, when he came on the scene and had conversations with everybody, his conversation with me was, ‘Take it a little easier on Mayweather, because it could mean millions of dollars to HBO,’ and this was before the Mayweather incident. They were in a negotiation for a number of fights (and Mayweather ultimately left HBO for Showtime less than two years later, in early 2013). And I just looked at Hershman and didn’t respond because I knew if they wanted me on the air … I told them, ‘I don’t know how to bunt.’
That was the only time at HBO anybody told me what to say or what not to say.