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Bad Intentions: Forget Mike and Jermain, Qawi’s the Real McCoy
By Matthew Sanderson (June 9, 2004) 
Dwight Muhammad Qawi
'Bad intentions' is a popular phrase in boxing, usually spoken by fighters to describe themselves. “Every punch was thrown with bad intentions” is a favourite of Mike Tyson, and middleweight prospect Jermain Taylor uses it as a gimmicky sort of nickname. But the eroded Tyson and the untested Taylor need all the hype they can get. Dwight Muhammad Qawi, on the other hand, didn’t need to talk about himself; he embodied the 'bad intentions' moniker in the early-to-mid-1980s, when he tore through the light heavy and cruiserweight divisions and earned himself a soon-to-be-honoured Hall of Fame career.

He was born Dwight Braxton in Baltimore, Maryland in 1953, but eventually moved to the mean streets of Camden, New Jersey. His outlook on life was shaped by the harsh environment, and found himself in and out of detention centres. During this time he briefly came across a feared young man called Matthew Franklin, a person who would reappear prominently in Braxton’s life many years down the line. Even then they were both rival hard men, dreaded by many. By the age of 19, Braxton was convicted of armed robbery and spent over five years in Rahway Sate Prison, where he learned the fundamentals of boxing.

At the age of 26 he was released and quickly became a fearsome street fighter to scrape out a living. After being recognized for his fighting talents, he would shortly find an outlet for his aggression. Braxton – under the advice and tutelage of a talent scout – arrived at Joe Frazier’s Gym in Philadelphia, a place that encouraged gruelling gym wars and bred legendary tough guys like Bennie Briscoe, the bald-headed slugger who gave successive middleweight legends Carlos Monzon and Marvin Hagler hell in the ring during the 1970s.

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Braxton was so tough that his handlers encouraged him to turn pro after only four weeks of training, with no amateur contests whatsoever, in 1978. In spite of this, results were mixed. After his first three fights he was 1-1-1. Recognising that serious adjustments needed making, Braxton – a small light heavy at 5’ 6” – sought to improve his ability to cut off the ring and to tighten his wide open defence. The hard work paid off quickly. In only his 16th professional fight, in 1980, Braxton took on the former WBA champion Mike Rossman.

The Jewish Bomber’ had split two fights with Hall of Famer Victor Galindez, but he was no match for Braxton, the appropriately named ‘Camden Buzzsaw’. Braxton advanced patiently, bobbing and weaving from a crouching defence, constantly making his taller man miss. As the punches flew harmlessly over his well guarded head he softened up his hapless foe with accurate inside work, eventually launching a devastating left hook that ended the fight in the seventh. Rossman – a fine fighter in a highly competitive era of light heavyweight boxing – didn’t even attempt to get up. He was so badly beaten that he didn’t fight for two years, and was never the same again.

According to his trainer, Wesley Mouzon, Braxton “wasn’t really a boxer, he was too short”. A more suitable description would be that Braxton was part slugger, part technician. Braxton’s lack of height was turned into a strategic advantage. He perfected the art of cutting off the ring and mastered the ability to roll underneath punches. He learned how to block and cover up effectively, and to follow up with blurring barrages when his opponents left themselves open. He was a heavily muscled squat fighter who – unlike the superficially similar Mike Tyson, who would dominate the heavyweights some 6 years later – never felt the need to try and end a fight within the first 90 seconds. He tore through his opponents methodically with a grin on his face, and when Gil Clancy remarked that “Everything Braxton does… is with bad intentions,” I had to nod to myself in agreement.

As Braxton soared through the ranks he crossed a couple of hard men from his past. Braxton went back to Rahway to face resident boxer James Scott, who had scored excellent victories against top contender Yaqui Lopez and future WBA champion Eddie Mustafa Muhammad. Although Braxton went into the fight with a damaged hand, he attacked Scott like a pit bull, smothering him on the inside for the duration and scoring a clear-cut points victory. This victory earned Braxton a shot against the great champion, Matthew Saad Muhammad – formerly Matthew Franklin, Braxton’s detention centre rival – in 1981.

Saad Muhammad had already earned a place in the Hall of Fame. He had achieved eight defences of the WBC light heavyweight title in one of the most competitive ever eras of light heavyweight boxing. He held two victories apiece over three time champion Marvin Johnson, top contender Yaqui Lopez, and former WBC champion John Conteh. Saad Muhammad can best be described as the 1980’s version of Arturo Gatti; the key difference being that Saad waged war in an era of 15 round title fights, and earned victories against generally outstanding opponents.

Saad Muhammad was a Philadelphia slugger who frequently started slow. He abandoned his slick boxing skills after losing to Eddie Mustafa Muhammad in 1977. He often allowed his opponents to beat him up, and then regularly rallied back hard when in danger of being stopped, often scoring exciting come from behind knockouts. Braxton, on the other hand, was extremely hard to hit with his cagey defence, and broke people down systematically. Despite Saad being the heavy favourite, Braxton – who had mastered the finer points of slugging – knew he had the style to win.

Although the opening rounds were competitive – with Saad more cautious, adopting a seldom used boxer-puncher style – it soon became clear that Braxton had his number. He slowly stalked his man behind a low crouch and gradually worked his way inside. By the middle stages Braxton had completely closed the distance against his much taller foe. He made Muhammad miss constantly up close, and then earned his ‘Camden Buzzsaw’ nickname with bruising combinations on the inside.

Saad Muhammad was getting badly busted up, and when he started his famous come-from-behind rally his target was nowhere to be seen. Braxton was almost untouchable on the inside, although one clubbing punch got through that "made me see upside down!" Keeping his cool under pressure, Braxton allowed his head to clear and commenced with the demolition job. By round ten of a steady beating the great Matthew Saad Muhammad had nothing left, and, battered and bleeding, was saved by the referee. Braxton became the new WBC light heavyweight champion of the world, and could truly lay claim to being the baddest man on the planet.

Upon winning the championship, Braxton announced his conversion to the Islam, changing his name to Dwight Muhammad Qawi. After defending against Jerry Martin he faced Muhammad for a second time. Muhammad claimed he was in much better shape this time, and following an impressive stoppage win against Pete McIntyre many believed him. However, Qawi was eager to prove the first fight was no fluke.

Qawi found his range immediately in an embarrassingly one-sided contest. His fluid combinations were faster and sharper than ever before and the hapless Muhammad was bludgeoned within six rounds. It was Qawi’s finest ever performance. The next defence – against Eddie Davis – was much tougher, however, and Qawi needed all his grit and savvy to pull through a shaky tenth round. He showed his overlooked ability as a boxer by adjusting his game plan, replacing his perpetual stalking with lateral movement, forcing his opponent to come to him and countering with thudding body shots. The strategy paid off. He stopped Davis in the following round, and – as with the first Muhammad fight – showed he could dish it out and take it.

Following this string of impressive victories a match with Michael Spinks was in the works. Spinks – like Qawi – was an outstanding fighter; and had knocked out both Yaqui Lopez and Marvin Johnson, as well as outpointing Eddie Mustafa Muhammad to take his WBA title. Spinks was a tall, slick boxer with knockout power in either hand. Their 1983 contest should have been a superfight, but instead both men cancelled each other out. Qawi suffered a broken hand and a severe nose injury before the fight, and has admitted that he should have pulled out. Spinks’s girlfriend had recently died in a car accident, and he broke down in his dressing room just before the contest. Needless to say, it was a dull contest: the taller Spinks fought a negative fight, running for 15 rounds, and although Qawi put him down once in the late rounds, it was Spinks who walked away with a unanimous decision.

Despite losing, Qawi had acquitted himself well when he was not 100%. He had proved himself to be a formidable champion in perhaps the best ever era of light heavyweight boxing. He ducked no one and relished taking on the best, an attitude which puts modern light heavyweight ‘great’ Roy Jones – with his safety first style, worthless mandatory defences and unwillingness to accept serious challenges – to shame. Qawi has stated that he would have beaten the pampered Jones, and it’s no empty boast.

Two years after the Spinks defeat Qawi moved up to cruiserweight, stopping Piet Crous in South Africa to take his WBA title. After defending against Rick Enis with an easy first round stoppage, he secured a fight with Michael Spinks' brother, Leon. Qawi gave the older Spinks, a former heavyweight champion, a severe beating, in the hope of getting a rematch with Michael. Instead, Qawi would fight another future Hall of Famer, Evander Holyfield, in 1986, in what proved to be the last great 15 round fight.

Holyfield started well, scoring sharp combinations and moving away, but soon Qawi’s experience and skills paid off. He drew Holyfield into a brawl and administered a serious beating to him through the middle rounds. Qawi made the much bigger Holyfield miss huge clusters of shots – often up to seven punches at a time – and typically countered on the inside with accurate, damaging flurries. Holyfield looked out on his feet several times, but managed to keep his head and rally back with amazing courage. The 33-year-old Qawi couldn't believe Holyfield's incredible recuperative powers – Holyfield had famously remarked that he found himself winded during three round amateur bouts – but to his credit the older man never let up. By the late rounds both men were on equal terms, and neither man proved to be the better. The fight could have gone either way.

Although Holyfield walked away with a split decision, in a bout held in ‘The Real Deal’s’ hometown, he didn’t walk away unscathed. Holyfield’s kidneys took a severe beating, and had it not been for the quick thinking of his wife he would have been on a dialysis machine for the rest of his life. Although one judge had Qawi winning 143-141, which seemed reasonable, the hometwon verdict became apparant with scores of a clear 144-140 and a whopping 147-138 for Holyfield. The scoring was even stranger when considering that Qawi dominated the middle rounds and hurt Holyfield with the harder, more accurate blows throughout the fight. Holyfield, now rightfully acknowledged as one of the greatest fighters in boxing history, admits to this day that Qawi was his toughest ever opponent.

Qawi’s career faded away after that night and he became a shadow of his former self, losing a rematch to Holyfield and eventually getting knocked out by George Foreman, a fight taken on a mere two weeks notice that Qawi was ill-prepared for. He subsequently went back down to cruiserweight before finally calling it quits in 1998. Qawi struggled for many years with drugs and alcohol abuse ("I used to have a drink after winning; I'd drink more when I lost"), but showed his warrior’s courage and became a winner outside the ring, too. He beat the habit. Despite being one of the most fearsome names in the history of light heavyweight and cruiserweight boxing, he’s “a nice guy now," helping drug abusers. Mike Tyson and Jermain Taylor can keep their 'bad intentions' – they sure as hell need them.
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