Myung-Woo Yuh: The Forgotten Natural
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In all-time great discussions, the many historical greats of the lower weight classes tend to be underrepresented. This tenet becomes especially true once you consider the world champions from Eastern countries. Although certain modern pugilists such as Naoya Inoue have gained some trend among fight fans, it still isn’t necessarily the case. For Eastern nations, this is the unfortunate reality in regards to exposure. Even amongst hardcore enthusiasts, some greats find themselves forgotten to annals of history. In the 1980s, South Koreas’s Jung-Koo Chang carved an absolute warpath through the light flyweight rankings and contendership. The ‘Korean Hawk’ amassed a following by his dynamism and aggression. He was an electrifying pugilist and spent his fifteen-defenses devastating his competition, finishing them or battering them thoroughly. As far as accolades and an eye-test goes, with the arguable exception of Roman ‘Chocolatito’ Gonzalez, it is difficult to think of a better fighter to have ever fought below 115 lbs than the WBC light flyweight champion. By contrast, his contemporary peer and fellow countryman, Myung-Woo Yuh, the then-WBA light flyweight champion, remained and still remains in Chang’s shadow.
From a numbers standpoint, Yuh’s record seems superior. To Chang’s record of 38-4, Yuh stood at a record of 38-1. Chang set fifteen title defenses of his WBC belt; Yuh set seventeen. However, said statistics don’t tell the full story. Simply put, Chang’s legacy has the benefit of facing better competition than Yuh’s. Moreover, Chang’s initial attempt at the world title, against defensive savant Hilario Zapata, was a controversial split decision most felt the then nineteen-year-old prodigy had deserved over the incumbent champion. Chang would then devastate Zapata in their rematch and proceed to beat the best his division had to offer in German Torres, Sot Chotalada, Katsuo Tokashiki - the list goes on. According to famed boxing writer, Joe Koizumi, part of Chang’s appeal to the Korean public as the true, legitimate champion was that he got finishes. By contrast, Myung Woo Yuh was not necessarily a finisher. Most of his wins were via decision.
This facet wasn’t to say that Yuh wasn’t fighting excellent fighters nor lacked any excitement, but many of his defenses ended up being closely-fought decisions without the dominance that Chang exhibited. As a result, it only makes sense Yuh wouldn’t be as accomplished nor as popular as his counterpart. Nonetheless, it would be incorrect to say that Yuh was simply a hypejob. He was, for all intents and purposes, among the finest boxers to ever emerge from the Eastern world and stands among the finest light flyweights to ever compete in the ring.
Yuh’s style would best fit under the threshold of an all-rounder boxer-puncher. He could box on the outside and he could seek-and-destroy. Simply put, Yuh was a quintessential all-rounder. Upon further examination, however, the explanation is a bit more complicated. As soon as a fight started, Yuh tended to start a bit on the slow side. He would work on the outside behind a jab and elevated high guard, circling and watching. Eventually, Yuh chooses to start creating entries or getting inside. In the pocket, Yuh’s shot selection is precise, sudden and blistering. On the inside, his aggression increases tenfold, and opponents found their ribs mashed, only to take another set of hooks on their head. Were they to get out of range, they found themselves with two options: either keep engaging with a now-forward-moving Yuh, or fight on the outside. That is to say, Yuh was a boxer-puncher who enforced and built his successes upon an escalating pace. He could work on the outside, but his vintage success was based entirely in the pocket and on the inside where he could unload in combinations.
Yuh’s use of a traditional high guard underlaid his propensity for counterpunching. Typically, counterpunchers are thought to be defensive sorts of fighters when, on the contrary, that isn’t true. Counterpunching is, in of itself, predicated upon being a reactive sort of fighter. How counterpunchers craft their success is, in layman’s terms, two methods. One, they punish the other fighter’s initiating action with a reaction. Two, they make their opponent act or react first and then punish accordingly.
An example of the first would be cross-countering the jab.
An example of the second would be if the counterpuncher threw out a jab, their opponent tries to counter with a hook. The counterpuncher’s jab is actually a fake to draw out the hook, so they dip under the counter and deliver a counter hook of their own to the body.
In regards to both examples, there can be hundreds of variations to either example. Still, to be an effective counterpuncher means being able to do both consistently. Some, even, may be able to counterpunch in combination.
Ergo, a high guard is Yuh’s invitation for an opponent to throw because his forearms are vertical and closer to his own head - naturally, it becomes an easy target that doesn’t appear as threatening as arms out and extended. In a sense, Yuh’s forward movement and shelling up creates the optics of vulnerability. He wants to come forward, so throwing to keep range is essential. It’s in these moments, however, that Yuh uses this image to his advantage.
A fighter who wants to create proximity will often move with their strikes to bridge the gap. An alternative is to use an opponent’s strikes to close the distance for counters. Yuh principally understood these rules. That is why Yuh was willing to handfight with his rear hand. By parrying and touching his opponents, he keeps those engagements going. Concurrently, Yuh’s lead forearm was actively was raised to feint or jab to split attention away from his right. The lead forearm also acted as a shield as Yuh turned his lead hip towards the opponent to threaten or to and the right (and sometimes the check left hook) easier; ergo, the lead forearm modified the high guard to uncork the right hand easier.
Once in pursuit, Yuh also would mix in active bobbing-and-weaving at distance to hide his entires and continue to play with expectations of even the more disciplined outfighters he faced.
In regards to Yuh’s lead hand, it was the real principle to maintaining pressure or distance control. If he needed to escape into a longer range, his counter jabs would allow him to reposition. If anything else, the jab was Yuh’s means to read an opponent, especially early. If it wasn’t enough, Yuh’s active head movement and outside footwork - usually pivots and hops - was used to decide the frequency of advantageous and disadvantageous engagements respectively. Because Yuh wanted to draw shots out, his jab would pair well together with his bob-and-weave head movement to see shots coming and reposition for a potential counterattacking angle or to keep putting on the pressure.
And even then, the high guard paired with the upper-body movement and threat of counters made Yuh a deceptively hard target if he committed to full on defense.
As a counterpuncher, it was inherent that Yuh had a knack for timing and the ability to chain his punches together. I would ascertain that Yuh’s greatest trait was his composure and discipline. As soon as Yuh would press the initiative, he had a keen sense of when to time his shots. Ergo, the moment he had space or had the distance down, Yuh not only feinted with his upper body or used his throwaway jabs to draw reactions out, he usually punished the responses immediately.
If he couldn’t establish easy enough space, Yuh would use his tactics to get inside on his man. Typically, Yuh’s head movement relied upon dipping below shots and then weaving while guarding to get inside of to reposition. By keeping his arms low, he can feint level changes and immediately use a throwaway shot - typically a leaping left hook - to close the gap and get inside.
Once there, he positioned his head adjacent to the opponent’s forearm or shoulder or placed the shoulder against the chest - both tactics opposite of the opponent’s free arm. This way, he would force them to smother themselves whilst allowing himself to reposition, typically to break off and target the body.
What might have been his strongest phase, however, was Yuh’s combination punching in the pocket. Part of the danger of engaging Yuh was that he would acquire his reads as a trigger and because he constantly was forcing responses. It got far more dangerous for the man across from him if he could meld the phases between an infight into the pocket and vice versa. You may have noticed, in particular, that Yuh loves his left hooks off the jab and vice versa- especially to the body or into the straight right.
It’s important to note Yuh’s discipline with the timing of his combinations. All of them are catch-and-pitch counters to what his opponent does and then continues to force their responses as the exchanges get longer. Said exchanges, because they’re being dictated and elongated as they panic and get hit more while Yuh catches and responds - always enforcing where his distance is.
In other words, if you were not repositioning with Yuh and staying space with him, the more chances he would get to counter or to work his combinations. Yuh’s accuracy in combination could be attributive to his weight transfers and already-constant upper body movement - both acted as a tool to deliver more offense and to mess with expectations.
Despite not facing the names that Chang did, Yuh did, however find himself, facing many different stylistic matchups to test his skillset. In his title-winning victory over Joey Olivo, Yuh met a committed outfighter. Yuh’s upper-body feinting and counterjabbing helped maintain pressure and create counters off outside slips to edge a decision in a fantastic technical bout. After Leo Gamez gave Yuh a rough go in their first outing, Yuh applied a measured outside game behind his jab to make Gamez lead and then punished him with flurries.
Ultimately, Yuh’s greatest strength was perhaps his unbelievable conditioning. Although it wasn’t to say that Yuh couldn’t crack nor hurt his opponents; the many decision wins indicated that Yuh wasn’t the most dynamic nor the most prolific puncher. Consequently, Yuh would have to grit and force a high workrate. In tandem with his accuracy, Yuh could overwhelm and break his opponents down with his attrition and otherworldly pace. Nowhere was Yuh’s gas tank more tested than in his all-time classic first bout with Mexican infighter Mario Alberto Demarco. Demarco chose to meet Yuh in the pocket and force an inside battle, resulting in a forty-five-minute barnburner that may well be the greatest display of two-way endurance that can be found from ring footage.
For reference, the above footage is in Rounds 12 and 13 of a 15 round fight at this exact pace.
Although Demarco could match Yuh’s grit and pace, he found himself out-crafted as Yuh used frames and collar ties to break out of the infight and punish Demarco’s own dipping with counter uppercuts. If anything else, Yuh may well be a candidate for the most conditioned fighter this writer has ever seen. And if said gas tank wasn’t enough, he showed he had enough craft to make ends meet.
There are a few definitive problems with Yuh’s game, nevertheless, as a result of his lack of stopping power and needing to commit to a sustained offensive game. First, Yuh had to put himself in the line of fire consistently. Although he more than proved he could take as much as he could give, he often found himself eating shots unless he committed entirely to his guard and head movement. Moreover, Yuh was not entirely the soundest ring general. He was proficient in just about every area, but unless he had control of the centerline or pocket - or avenues into either - his ringcutting wasn’t the best. That is to say, often Yuh’s success was predicated quite a bit upon his offensive output; his best defense was often his best offense. Furthermore, it seemed as though he struggled to fully blend his offense and defense together cohesively in every part of his game.
Joey Olivo’s consistent jabbing and repositioning, while not the most sound or most disciplined, showed how Yuh had the propensity to chase to pursue the pocket instead of methodically cutting his opponent off until the latter started jabbing with Olivo.
Demarco would position his head and forearm under Yuh’s head to smother him while pushing him back to prevent him from creating pocket exchanges. It wasn’t until Yuh manipulated grips and started timing Demarco’s level changes with uppercuts that he was able to separate himself, albeit barely.
Of course, being an all-rounder is indicative enough of some of Yuh’s issues. Admittedly, this statement is more of a hypothetical, but it is plausible part of Yuh’s success can be attributive to never having faced someone he couldn’t have had an advantage over or at least being an equal to. As a result, it does become somewhat difficult to evaluate him versus hypothetical fantasy matchups in other all-time greats at light flyweight such as Michael Carbajal or Humberto Gonzalez. Still, it’s difficult to not watch Yuh and, at minimum, believe that he would have given them all, including Chang himself, one hell of a fight.