In the annals of combat sports, some fights transcend mere athletic contests to become legendary `what ifs`. Among these, perhaps none cast a longer shadow over women`s boxing than the proposed superfight between Christy Martin and Lucia Rijker. Nearly two decades after the fateful cancellation, the echoes of this unfulfilled clash still resonate, leaving fans to ponder the seismic impact it might have had on the sport and, indeed, on the legacies of two of its most formidable pioneers.
Two Queens, One Crown Never Contested
In the 1990s and early 2000s, women`s boxing was emerging from the shadows, often carried on the powerful shoulders of a few trailblazing athletes. Christy Martin, famously dubbed `The Coal Miner`s Daughter`, was arguably the most recognizable face. A fierce brawler with a devastating left hook, Martin fought with an unapologetic intensity, her goal not to champion women`s boxing as a collective, but to prove she was, quite simply, a “fighter” — as good as, if not better than, any man. She graced the cover of Sports Illustrated, a testament to her unique crossover appeal.
Across the ring, in a metaphorical sense, stood Lucia Rijker, `The Dutch Destroyer`. A world-class kickboxer who transitioned seamlessly to the Sweet Science, Rijker was a picture of technical perfection. Trained by the revered Freddie Roach, her undefeated record (17-0, 14 KOs) and potent punching power made her a terrifying prospect. While Martin was the raw, crowd-pleasing brawler, Rijker was the refined, analytical pugilist. The stylistic matchup alone promised fireworks; add a burgeoning, bitter rivalry, and the anticipation became palpable.
A Rivalry Forged in Fire (and a Public Confrontation)
The animosity between Martin and Rijker was no mere promotional façade. It was deeply personal. Martin, never one to mince words, once publicly suggested Rijker needed a “gender test.” This incendiary remark struck a nerve with Rijker, whose intense persona belied a deep sense of personal honor.
“She said she was not gonna fight me because I needed a gender test,” Rijker recounted years later. “And that was so offensive. I was gonna get back at her for that one.”
Rijker`s chosen method of `getting back` was anything but conventional. Instead of a press release, she opted for a physical confrontation at Martin`s open workout in Los Angeles in March 2000. As Martin finished an interview, Rijker coolly informed a friend, “In a few seconds,” when asked about her next fight. What followed was a brief, chaotic scuffle, a bare-knuckle preview of the intensity that would have undoubtedly unfolded in the ring. Martin accused Rijker of a “sucker-punch,” lamenting the “lack of class,” while Rijker, looking back, simply laughed and admitted, “Yeah, I was crazy. I had such pride.”
The Business of Boxing: A Barrier to Greatness
Despite the undeniable public demand and the fighters` mutual desire to settle their score, the boxing landscape of the era presented formidable obstacles. Martin was firmly entrenched with promoter Don King, a man not known for his conciliatory nature. Rijker, meanwhile, was under the banner of Bob Arum, King`s perennial rival. The promotional chasm between these two titans of the sport proved wider and deeper than any ring. This corporate standoff, a familiar lament in boxing history, stifled what could have been a defining moment for women`s boxing.
The Million-Dollar Dream That Never Landed
Years passed, and the dream seemed to fade. Then, a glimmer of hope: leveraging Rijker`s appearance in the acclaimed film Million Dollar Baby, Arum resurrected the idea, staging a potential July 2005 event dubbed `Million Dollar Lady`. Both fighters, by then 37 and arguably past their absolute prime, were offered a substantial $250,000 purse, with an additional $750,000 awaiting the victor. This wasn`t a clash of two fighters at their absolute peak, but it was a meeting of two legends at an “equal place in their career,” as Martin noted, promising an even, hard-fought contest.
Just ten days before the scheduled bout, destiny intervened with a cruel twist: Lucia Rijker suffered a ruptured Achilles tendon during training. The fight was off. And with it, any realistic hope of seeing these two titans square off in a professional capacity. Rijker never fought again professionally, retiring with her perfect record intact. Martin continued for several more years, facing eight more opponents before hanging up her gloves.
Echoes of What If: Legacies Undiminished, Rivalry Enduring
The absence of the Martin-Rijker superfight ultimately did not tarnish either woman`s legacy. Both have been deservedly inducted into the International Women`s Boxing Hall of Fame and the International Boxing Hall of Fame, recognized for their individual brilliance and pioneering efforts. Yet, the question lingers: what if?
Interestingly, their post-career reflections offer a study in contrasts. Rijker, in a moment of reflective candor, spoke of a profound connection, likening their unresolved rivalry to a “divorce” — an unbreakable, albeit complicated, bond. She even thanked Martin for providing the motivation to stay in the gym when women`s boxing was slow.
Christy Martin, however, remains the competitive warrior. Even now, at 57, the mention of Rijker makes her “blood pressure go up.” She`s still “waiting on the callback” for that fight, a humorous, yet deeply serious, testament to her unwavering belief in her own abilities. She insists, with a wry chuckle, that she “would`ve knocked her [Rijker] out in the early rounds,” and that Rijker “has no chin and she has no heart. That`s why the fight never happened.” It`s a statement delivered with the conviction only a true fighter can possess, impervious to the passage of time or the reality of retirement.
The Unfought Future: A Comparison to Modern Eras
Would a Martin-Rijker clash have had the same transformative effect on women`s boxing as, say, the monumental Katie Taylor vs. Amanda Serrano superfight? Martin herself muses, “Probably not,” reasoning that her projected early knockout would have denied the sport the kind of back-and-forth “war” that truly convinces skeptics that “women can fight.” A surprisingly humble, albeit competitive, assessment.
And so, the phantom fight of Christy Martin versus Lucia Rijker endures not as a stain on their careers, but as a compelling narrative within boxing history. It`s a story of fierce rivalry, unyielding ambition, the machinations of the sport`s business, and the cruel hand of fate. While the ring lights never illuminated their ultimate showdown, the legend of the fight that never happened continues to cast its captivating spell, a timeless testament to two indomitable spirits.
