By Thomas Gerbasi

Getting placed on the ballot for the International Boxing Hall of Fame’s Class of 2015 was enough for Ray Mancini. The former lightweight champion and undisputed action king of the 80s has never been one for accolades in his post-fighting years, mainly because he felt that despite having a career he was proud of and satisfied with, it might not have stacked up with those of the existing members of such an exclusive club.

“When they first called and told me I was on the ballot, I was like ‘wow, I’m truly honored,’” he said. “And I meant that sincerely. But I didn’t think my career warranted it. When I think of the Hall of Fame, I think of longevity. I only fought five and a half years as a pro. I only had 34 fights.”

But what a five and a half years they were. Take away two losing efforts in comeback fights against Hector Camacho in 1989 and Greg Haugen in 1992, and Mancini’s run from 1979 to 1985 captured a moment in boxing that may never be seen again. It was an era where fighters fought each other, the best didn’t shy away from the best, and it was all on display every weekend on free network television. Boxing used to get front page and back page coverage in newspapers, not relegated to the occasional story buried somewhere in the transactions section. It was an era that produced the likes of Sugar Ray Leonard, Marvin Hagler, Thomas Hearns, Aaron Pryor, and Matthew Saad Muhammad, just to name a few, as well as a humble, yet charismatic, kid from Youngstown, Ohio nicknamed “Boom Boom.”

“It was the first time that we were brought into the homes of the American public on a regular basis,” Mancini said. “Growing up, ABC Wide World of Sports had fighting - like one a quarter – and that’s where I saw (Roberto) Duran fight, where I saw Carlos Monzon fight, and sometimes it was even (Muhammad) Ali. That’s where you saw the good fights. In the 80s, it was on network television, Saturday afternoon, and we even fought on Sundays sometimes. We were like college and pro football. And that’s significant. And it wasn’t only CBS, but NBC had the guys who made the Olympics and showcased them as Tomorrow’s Champions, and that was also significant. I was very proud to be part of that; it was a very special time for boxing.”

Boxing’s perfect storm of that era was produced by fearless matchmaking, action-oriented fighters, and television execs who realized that to reach people who weren’t diehard boxing fans or even diehard sports fans, you had to tell a story. And few had a better real-life tale than Mancini, who was fighting not for money or glory, but to win the world lightweight title his father Lenny, a former contender, never got the chance to fight for due to World War II. In addition, Mancini had a unique connection to his hometown of Youngstown, which was fighting its own fight outside the ring.

“People don’t understand that the relationship between me and my town is a little different than most,” he said. “I came at a time when we were knocked on our ass by economic depression, and they were looking for something and I happened to be that guy. Me and my style of fighting were emblematic of the city.”

In other words, it may not have always been pretty, but if you knocked Mancini down, he was going to get back up swinging, and when CBS teamed up with the rising star, the sky was the limit.

Unbeaten in his first 20 fights, a string that included victories over tough customers Jose Luis Ramirez, Johnny Summerhays and Norman Goins, Mancini – with his father at ringside – got a shot at Alexis Arguello’s WBC lightweight title in October of 1981. Mancini gave as good as he got for much of his bout against the Nicaraguan superstar, but eventually, Arguello’s experience was too much for the game challenger, who was halted in the 14th round. Crushed by the defeat, Mancini was consoled by Arguello, whose interaction with his foe made household names out of both of them.

Seven months later, Mancini won a wild 2:54 fight against Arturo Frias, taking the WBA lightweight title in the process. Mancini had won the belt for his dad, and Youngstown and the rest of the boxing world rejoiced.

Mancini would successfully defend his title four times over the next two years, mixing in two non-title wins in the process, but what most remember from that time was the tragic 1982 bout with Korea’s Deuk-Koo Kim. It was an epic title fight won by Mancini in the 14th round, but Kim would tragically pass away four days later from injuries sustained in the bout.

The fight brought up calls for boxing to be abolished, and was also the impetus to move WBC title fights from 15 to 12 rounds. As for Mancini, he was devastated by Kim’s death, and all of a sudden the allure of the prizefighting life was dulled.

In June of 1984, he was upset by Livingstone Bramble and lost his title, though many observers believed he won the rematch eight months later, only to see the decision go to Bramble by one point on each judge’s scorecard. That was effectively the end of his career, though the aforementioned fights against Camacho and Haugen did see him return twice.

It was a good run, but was it Hall of Fame worthy? IBHOF voters said yes, with the 54-year-old Mancini being inducted this weekend in Canastota, New York. It’s an honor he didn’t expect, and he certainly wasn’t lobbying for votes either.

“Someone asked me, ‘You’re on the ballot, will you be waiting by the phone?’ No, not at all. I’m honored, and I don’t mean any disrespect to anybody, but if some guys think I’m worthy of it, thank you, God bless you. If other guys don’t think I’m worthy of it, hey, thanks, God bless you too. (Laughs) What do you want me to say? My career, I’m satisfied with it. I had a good run, I did it for my father, I did it for my town, and everything I wanted to accomplish, I was able to do. I’m not worried about the other guys. I always couldn’t believe when I hear that guys in baseball say ‘I’m gonna be waiting.’ Why? Half these people never saw you play, others only heard stories, so why would you even consider what they say? But I truly meant it when I said I wasn’t going to wait and that I was truly honored just to be nominated.”

But then the call came, and everything rushed at him at once.

“It was like I got hit by an Arguello right hand,” Mancini laughs. “I was stunned. Then the first thing that hit me was how proud my father would have been, how appreciative and excited my kids were going to be, and then I got emotional about it. That’s the world to me. Then the town (Youngstown) found out and it came over the wire, and so many people called and congratulated me.”

There will be plenty of Ohioans making the trek to upstate New York this weekend, celebrating a fighter who may not have had the glossiest record or the longest run at the top, but like the late Arturo Gatti, a 2012 Hall of Fame inductee, Mancini’s impact went far beyond a win-loss record.

If you knew he was fighting on Saturday afternoon, you dropped what you did to watch him, and on Monday morning at school or work, you were talking about the fight. Your father loved him because he was fighting for his father, and your mother loved him because he was the polite boy next door she wanted to marry her daughter. And he had a town behind him, seemingly taking every punch and celebrating every victory as if it was their own. Ray Mancini meant something, and he still does.

He recalls talking to a local reporter after his Hall of Fame nod was announced. He again reiterated that he didn’t think he had the longevity for such an honor. He was quickly corrected.

“You brought boxing back to the forefront of the American public,” Mancini was told. “It wasn’t the quantity of your fights, but the quality.”

That’s a legacy worthy of the Hall of Fame.