The Plaza de Toros bullring in Mexico City was a place John H. Stracey swore he’d never return to. He wasn’t fond of any bullrings, really. There was something about the atmosphere that didn’t suit him, he told his Olympic teammates after a daytrip there while participating in the 1968 Olympics.

Stracey lost to eventual gold medalist Ronnie Harris and won no medals at the Games himself. He turned professional the following year and suffered a handful of losses and a draw in his first few years in the paid ranks. He eventually won the British and European welterweight titles, but to become a world champion he would have to return to that bullring in México.

Compounding Stracey’s likely troubles was the champion himself, José Nápoles, a fighter who was born and raised in Cuba. Nápoles was born in 1940, far too late to remember bullfighting in Cuba or famous Spanish bullfighter Luis Mazzantini Eguía’s voyage to the island in the 1880s.

The popularity of bullfighting in Cuba soared after the great Mazzantini’s 16 bullfights there, and until the practice was outlawed by U.S. servicemen near the turn of the century. A phrase he inspired survives to this day: “ni Mazantín el torero,” or “not even Mazzantini the bullfighter,” used to describe someone or something difficult. Some of the bullfighting venues also temporarily survived, thus Nápoles would have at least known what it once was as a youngster.

When the Cuban government outlawed boxing in 1961, Nápoles made plans to defect alongside several other fighters and made his way to México. In his new home, where he was readily accepted, Nápoles fought in bullrings in several states across the Mexican republic. He made 10 title defenses over two separate reigns and was even popular at the Forum in Inglewood, California, one of two main boxing venues in the Los Angeles area that catered specifically to Mexican and Mexican-American combat sports fans.

Nápoles’ struggle wasn’t that of popularity, but of vice and hard living. In 1974, about 18 months before Nápoles and Stracey met, the champion made a defense against Hedgemon Lewis. Sports Illustrated writer Tex Maule wrote after the fight, “Napoles is 34, going on 40. He has a strong and lasting affection for friendly women, horses that go off at 20 to 1 or worse and observing the dawn at the end, not the beginning, of the day.”

Even if his career wasn’t yet over, Nápoles fought with the kind of refined style and elegant movement that never wins a battle with time. That inevitable deterioration combined with a love of women and fun times meant Nápoles would burn out sooner rather than later. Additionally, Stracey’s only recent loss was on cuts and he was a strong, capable welterweight.

When Stracey developed a cut over his left eye in training, the bout teetered on the verge of cancellation before doctors cleared the challenger to fight. Nápoles then told Mexican newspapers that he would target Stracey’s eyebrows, which later came back to haunt him.

The surge of British world champions in recent years and decades obscures the fact that British fighters were once expected to struggle outside of their home realm. Before Stracey, only two British fighters won world titles abroad: Ted “Kid” Lewis and Ken Buchanan. Against Nápoles, Stracey was up against a fighter who was popular in México, a Mexican referee, two Mexican judges and a borderline hostile Mexican crowd. That “El Cubano Mexicano” was a favorite to defend his title by only 5-to-3 was a minor miracle.

Even as a slightly faded version of himself, Nápoles was still a fantastic operator, which he showed by stabbing Stracey with jabs and landing a left hook a few times in the opening round. Stracey jabbed confidently in return only to eat a combination that sat him down.

To Stracey’s credit, there was no attempt to flee or foul. A few clinches and a high guard kept Stracey upright and got him to the bell. In Round 2, Nápoles won an early jabbing battle as Stracey got his bearings and tried to stifle his offense. The referee allowed Nápoles to hold and hit rather excessively, and he followed that up with hard left hooks before the round ended.

The bell to start the third round tolled and suddenly Nápoles’ left eye swelled to double its normal size. It wasn’t clear what caused the damage, but Nápoles switched his strategy to involve more defense and a confident Stracey began moving forward. With Nápoles on the ropes, Stracey jabbed and hooked off his jab. When Nápoles moved to take a step, his looks short-circuited and he fell to the canvas. In his excitement, Stracey landed a glancing punch to Nápoles as he was down and an object was thrown into the ring.

Thankfully no chaos erupted, but Nápoles was ruled down and was still made to beat the count. He fought his way out of immediate trouble and took a slow walk to his corner at the bell.

Nápoles’ corner worked on his eyes like madmen. The champion was now cut over his right eye and it looked just as bad as the swelled-up left. The crowd chanted, screamed, encouraged and played instruments, perhaps hoping it might give Nápoles the strength to seize control of the fight in the fourth. Stracey fought assertively, though, and he jabbed Nápoles to the ropes periodically. Nápoles strafed the challenger with shots near the end of the round, and Stracey took those punches just fine this time.

Stracey made the fight a more physical affair in Round 5. Nápoles looked tired and tried to clinch, and that’s when Stracey muscled the older fighter around, rubbing his head about the champion’s face, which drew warnings from the referee. Unfortunately Stracey was also cut on his left eye during the round, threatening to unleash some kind of bloodbath.

More jabs from Stracey popped Nápoles’ head back and he could only complain about the clinch work in Round 6. The crowd booed as Stracey ground their man down, soaking up whatever came his way and chopping away him. In the final minute of the round, Stracey opened up with Nápoles on the ropes, throwing more than one dozen unanswered punches until the referee stepped in and ended the bloody slaughter.

“Napoles took punches that were out of this world,” Stracey told reporters after the bout. “I knew I had him in the fourth round. He didn’t have any strength in him by then.”

A stunned Nápoles wouldn’t commit to retirement or revenge. In the end, the old man chose retirement, which he spent at least in part dedicating his time to teaching local youngsters how to box, free of charge. Nearly 20 years as a professional netted him a record of 81-7 with 54 KOs. The Ring ranked him among the top 10 greatest welterweights even before his retirement.

The rest of Stracey’s fights all took place in London and he made one defense of the title before losing it to Carlos Palomino. This time Stracey held true to his word and never went back to a bullring.