It’s a shame, but not a complete surprise, that Tim Ryan hasn’t been given his place in the International Boxing Hall of Fame in Canastota.
Simply put, in a world where shouting passes for analysis, where Twitter followers are more important qualifiers than experience in earning some people jobs, Ryan was always going to be the odd man out.
Why? Because he took the unique path (at least in today’s sports media world) of letting the events he called speak for themselves.
“That was by design, and I applied that to all of the sports I covered,” said Ryan from his home in Victoria, British Columbia, Canada. “Somebody counted that I had done 30 different sports in my career. A few of them were one-offs, but I took the same approach if I was doing an NFL game or NHL hockey game or a college basketball game, whatever. Just tell me what I need to know and let my expert tell you the why, which you saw, and let the athletes be the stars. That’s what I took into everything I did in all the sports.”
Ryan may have covered all the sports during his illustrious career, but for a generation of fight fans, he was the voice of their boxing childhood and adulthood. From a radio broadcast of the first Muhammad Ali vs Joe Frazier bout in 1971 to over 300 championship fights on NBC and CBS, Ryan was as synonymous with the sport as any sportscaster, even earning the Boxing Writers Association of America’s Sam Taub award in 1986 for Excellence in Boxing Broadcast Journalism.
That’s not to say calling fights was his goal when he started out, even though he was a fan when he was growing up. But before boxing became his trademark, there was the NFL, NBA, college basketball and hockey, among other sports. In other words, if they were keeping score, the Winnipeg native was probably involved in some way, shape or form.
That meant he called some fights on radio, too, so when NBC was interested in showing boxing again, Ryan was the man picked for the job.
“I was covering NFL Football and some basketball and other sports,” he recalled. “One of my bosses at NBC told me they were going to buy two fights, and I think the first two were in Paris. So that got my attention. (Laughs) ‘You’ve done some boxing, Ryan, so we’d like you to do these fights.’ And that’s how it started in my television boxing. Then roughly less than two years later, I moved to CBS and that’s when CBS was really on to the boxing on television with those Olympians, and they were competing mainly with NBC because ABC wasn’t really doing much boxing.”
Those Olympians were the members of the 1976 U.S. squad that included Sugar Ray Leonard, Leon and Michael Spinks and Howard Davis Jr. As Muhammad Ali’s career began winding down, these were the young and talented fighters with the great back stories that were going to take boxing into the post-Ali era. CBS and NBC jumped on board eagerly, and in the 80s, it seemed like every weekend had a war or two on each channel featuring world-class fighters fighting each other. To call it boxing’s last Golden Age would be more than accurate. And ringside for most of it were Ryan and analyst Gil Clancy, one of the sport’s most respected trainers and soon to be one of its most respected color commentators.
“You can’t pick a better decade in all weight divisions,” said Ryan. “Everybody who’s not a boxing fan wants to know who the heavyweights are, but think of the lightweights from the 80s, and the welterweights and the middleweights. We had all those guys that were so talented, and they had personalities and were exciting. That was an era I was lucky to be around.”
And fans were lucky to have Ryan and Clancy around. The two worked perfectly together, telling the stories of the fighters and breaking down the action without cutting each other off or shouting over one another. Along the way, viewers were introduced to a long line of boxers who would go on to become champions, superstars, Hall of Famers, or just good ol’ fan favorites. And telling those stories was important to the gentlemen calling the fights.
“That was something I would take to every dance in all the sports that I did,” Ryan said. “And it’s part of the preparation you should do, but I always felt that the human interest aspects in the boxers was a lot more interesting in most cases because they came from other countries, they came from poor neighborhoods, they had family stories – many of which would break your heart – and a lot of them you would never know about unless somebody talked to them directly and found out things that made you take a personal interest in who they were as people and want to share that with the audience.”
Ryan and Clancy would be on-site days before the event to catch up with the fighters, team members and families, going out even further in advance for a big title fight like Leonard versus Marvin Hagler. It built a connection not just between the fighter and the audience, but the fighter and the team of Ryan and Clancy. So when something like the tragic death of Duk Koo Kim after his fight with Ray Mancini took place in 1982, it hit Ryan hard, not just because of the passing of Kim, but because he had been covering Mancini’s career for so many years and got to know him.
“That was a very painful experience,” he said. “We knew Ray and his family really well at that point and we knew how he would take it.”
And for all the glorious nights like Pryor-Arguello, Ali-Frazier and Leonard-Hagler, there are the ones that stick with you like Mancini-Kim, and like another fight Ryan can’t forget between Lupe Pintor and Johnny Owen.
“Here’s this kid from Wales, nobody really knows him,” said Ryan of Owen, who passed away in 1980 after his bout with Pintor. “He was a tall, skinny kid and he looked physically overmatched, but he was a terrific boxer with a lot of guts. But Pintor could punch like hell and I knew when he (Owen) was knocked out that it didn’t look good.”
Ryan’s voice trails off, then he tells of Pintor going to Wales a few years later to pay his respects to the Owen family.
“Here’s one of those human interest stories in boxing, of which there are many more than people realize,” he said, aware of all the dangers of the sport, having witnessed them up close, but still embracing the beauty of boxing when it’s done right and the character of those who lace the gloves on and step through the ropes.
So while there may be 30 different sports on Ryan’s resume, he’ll never forget boxing. Now it’s time for boxing, particularly the International Boxing Hall of Fame, to make sure he’s always remembered. Not that the 81-year-old is campaigning or anything. He’s just happy Clancy got his spot.
“My friend Gil Clancy went in early and I was there for his induction, and that was my thrill and what I thought was absolutely appropriate,” said the humble Ryan. “He was the best at what he did and nobody topped him since in my judgement. I wanted Gil in and he did get in, and I frankly didn’t ever give it (the Hall of Fame) a thought. It was only when people started to call me about it.”
Ryan laughs. And yes, I’m guilty of being one of the ones who called.
“I’m not taking any of it too seriously,” he said. “It would be great, obviously, and I’d be honored, but it’s not top of space. I’m glad Gil’s in and a lot of my friends are in. Barry Tompkins is in, and Al Bernstein, and guys that did what I do. I’m happy for them and if I get in, great.”