Jackson: No Stone Left Unturned

The popular consensus is that Oscar De La Hoya is boxing’s Latin lover, the most handsome man to grace the ring, and it’s hard to argue otherwise. In a sport populated primarily by guys with ski-run noses, cauliflower ears and unsightly masses of scar tissue around the eyes, designation as boxing’s No. 1 heartthrob falls to the Golden Boy almost by default. De La Hoya’s bouts always are attended by scads of screaming girls who seemingly got lost on their way to the Menudo concert.

But if a serious attempt was made to find a challenger to De La Hoya in the leading-man looks department, consideration almost certainly would have to be given to John David Jackson, 43, a former WBA and WBO junior middleweight champion who has done a bit of acting and modeling. It wouldn’t be difficult imagining Jackson, who retired as an active boxer in 1999 with a 36-4 record that includes 20 victories inside the distance, as a black action hero in film roles that now go to Denzel Washington and Will Smith.

But Jackson, whose unmarked face is a testament to his ability to evade punishment, still prefers to think of himself more as a boxing guy than a Hollywood wannabe. And if he never is inducted into the International Boxing Hall of Fame for a career that was noteworthy but perhaps not quite enough to walk with the legends, he can still hope to gain enshrinement as a trainer.

It was Jackson who prepped Shane Mosley for his 10th-round technical knockout of Fernando Vargas on Feb. 25, a victory that did much to re-sweeten Sugar Shane’s image. And while Jackson won’t be working the corner for Mosley’s July 15 rematch with Vargas, it isn’t because Jackson’s work was deemed to be unsatisfactory. It’s just that the Denver-born, Spokane-raised, Los Angeles-based Jackson is busy with an even higher-profile gig, as a special assistant to former middleweight champion Bernard “The Executioner” Hopkins as he readies for his June 10 HBO Pay Per View date with Antonio Tarver in Atlantic City Boardwalk Hall.

Mosley is under contract to De La Hoya’s company, Golden Boy Promotions, as is Hopkins, who is president of a subsidiary, Golden Boy East. The two old friends – Jackson lived in Philadelphia, Hopkins’ hometown, from 1988 to ’92, during which time they sparred frequently – crossed paths before Mosley-Vargas bout.

“We had a long conversation before Mosley-Vargas,” Jackson recalls. “I said, `Bernard, you know me. I love this game and I love this sport. I understand southpaws. I am a southpaw. I’ve sparred with Antonio Tarver before, in preparation for his first fight with Roy Jones. I believe I have a pretty good take on what he does.’”

The 41-year-old Hopkins, who insists the Tarver bout will be his last, regardless of the outcome, didn’t need to consider the proposal very long. Although a lifelong middleweight, he wants to achieve something his idol, Sugar Ray Robinson, attempted once and failed to accomplish – to win the light heavyweight championship. Robinson was well ahead on points the night of June 25, 1952, when, utterly depleted by the heat, he did not come out for the 14th round of his bout with light heavyweight champ Joey Maxim in Yankee Stadium.
Toward that end, Hopkins – who normally brings a small retinue of confidantes with him when he heads off to training camp – has added physical conditioning guru Mackie Shilstone and Jackson to his team, which is headed by regular trainer Brother Naazim Richardson.

Jackson’s job, one to which he is particularly well suited, is to help Hopkins get ready for the southpaw stylings of a man widely regarded as the finest 175-pounder on the planet.
“I’m 9-0 against southpaws,” Hopkins says proudly. “My friend, John David Jackson, offered to help me. Who’d you think pecked me in the face all day long with that right jab? I learned how to fight southpaws from all that work with John David Jackson, him and Robert Hines. And you know what? I learned good.”

Hopkins learned so well, in fact, that he retained his IBF middleweight title on April 19, 1997, when he stopped Jackson in seven rounds in Shreveport, La.

“I won’t say he reinvented himself, but he was a student of the game who improved his craftsmanship tremendously,” Jackson says of the Hopkins who outclassed him nine years ago. “I look at Bernard now and he instinctively does things that you just don’t teach in boxing. They’re small things – nuances, really – that he picked up on his own. He’s got certain moves that you couldn’t show to some young fighter and expect him to learn.
“When I first worked with him, he was a crude brawler. He could have remained that way for his whole career. A lot of guys start out one way and never change. But Bernard is multidimensional. He’s an all-around fighter.”

Some trainers aren’t willing to accept secondary roles. Jackson said any and all experiences are part of his personal learning process, so he jumped at the chance to serve as a sort of specialist with Team Hopkins.

“Naazim’s been with Bernard a long time,” Jackson reasons. “Bernard is comfortable with him. The addition of myself and Mackie, I think, helps Bernard in other ways. We all contribute what we can.

“Being a two-time world champion myself, I understand where Bernard is coming from and what he’s been through, what he’s going through now.”

Hopkins, Jackson said, is a sponge who absorbs and processes information better than most fighters, even at this advanced stage of his career.

“Around 1990 or ’91, it became increasingly difficult to get to Bernard (in sparring),” Jackson says. “He wasn’t eating so many jabs. It was like something just clicked in his head. He got it. Right then I knew he was going to give people hell. He didn’t have an exploitable weakness any more.”

So, what can people expect from the old lion as he attempts to go out with one last, loud roar?

“In a general sense, I think you’ll be surprised by how very strong Bernard will be at the higher weight,” Jackson says. “He’ll be stronger than he ever was at 160. He’s a remarkably conditioned athlete, no question, but it gets tougher and tougher for every fighter to take that weight off as he gets older.

“At 170, or whatever it is Bernard comes in at, he’s going to shock everyone by how strong he is.”

As for his specific duties, well, Jackson isn’t hesitant about revealing at least some of the things he and Hopkins have been working on in camp.

“Most people think the best punch for conventional fighters to use against southpaws is the straight right,” Jackson says. “But the closest distance to a southpaw is covered by the left jab. You can’t fall into the trap of going right hand-crazy. You set the right hand by using your jab, your left hook, and by adjusting your footwork. You slide to your left when a southpaw fires his left hand. Most righthanded fighters slide to their right because that’s what they’re most comfortable doing. But you move into the path of the overhand left if you do that.

“I made some suggestions to Bernard as to what he could do with Tarver and he said, `You’re exactly what I need. I want you there with me.’ And I said, `All right then, let’s make it happen.’”

If Jackson has one regret, it’s how his Dec. 10, 1994, bout in Monterrey, Mexico, ended with Argentina’s Jorge Castro. At the time, Jackson was the WBO junior middleweight champion.

Jackson was administering a fearful beating to Castro, so much so that referee Stanley Christodoulou several times seemed on the verge of waving off the apparent mismatch, when the bleeding, half-blinded Argentine connected with a crushing left hook in the ninth round. Jackson lurched to his feet, but was knocked down again just prior to Christodoulou stopping it.

It came as little comfort to Jackson that The Ring magazine listed his momentum-shifting loss to Castro as it’s 1994 Fight of the Year.

“I’ve watched the tape of that fight so many times,” Jackson admits. “I watch the first 9½ rounds before I turn it off.

“A lot of people thought I was this stylish fighter who wouldn’t go into the trenches. I knew I had to take Castro out of his game plan, which was to rough me up. I thought, `Let’s see if he can take it as good as he dishes it out.’

“When the fight was stopped, what could I do? You can’t undo what’s done. All you can do is let it go. But it does hurt me to think about what I missed out on. I had sat down with HBO’s Lou DiBella and worked out a deal where my next fight was going to be with Roy Jones. My end would have been $1.5 million, minimum. Obviously, that fight didn’t happen.”
Minus the title and the HBO deal, Jackson lost whatever leverage he figures he might have had.

“You can’t cry about something you never had,” he says. “My career would have been better if the Castro fight hadn’t ended the way it did. I would have made more money and gotten more respect. Maybe I won’t make the Hall of Fame as a fighter because of that loss.
“All the good fighters back then avoided me – Michael Nunn, Julian Jackson, Terry Norris. Their managers or their trainers would not allow them to fight me. I lost out on a lot of opportunities to prove how good I was.”

So now Jackson tries to work his magic another way, as a teacher. He’s happy to pass along some of the things he’s learned.

“My first trainer when I was in Philly was George Benton,” Jackson says. “He was one of so many outstanding trainers in that town, I don’t know why every fighter wouldn’t want to go there.

“I would stop by Georgie’s house every night after my workout and I would bug him for four or five hours until he threw me out. Sometimes I’d see Eddie Futch in Vegas, and pick his brain.

“One day, Georgie told me, `John, you’re going to make a very good trainer, and possibly a great one, because you understand boxing and you’re very calm. You don’t get rattled.’”