Heavyweight boxing in the 1990s was incomparable.

There was plenty of the genuine drama boxing provides, though with the frenetic energy and ear-bleeding volume that became the decade’s signature. Big fights became opportunities to throw viewing parties and most of it revolved around the heavyweights.

But what 90s heavyweights are remembered for now is, and this cannot be stressed enough, the absolute chaos. Riddick Bowe and Evander Holyfield were two of the decade’s foremost agents of that chaos.

Every era of big men had wily or controversial figures. Fans couldn’t be certain if John L. Sullivan would even be sober enough to fight on a given day, for instance. A few decades later, in the 1900s and 1910s, Fireman Jim Flynn had his share of disqualification losses and racist rants, sometimes at the same time. The early 1980s heavyweights with quirks and drug struggles nearly matched the next decade.

Bowe and Holyfield were two of the best heavyweights of the 90s, which they proved against one another and several other high quality fighters. Each also showed up looking south of stellar against lower quality opponents, which, funnily enough, was a piece of the unpredictability that made both must-watch fighters.

A few of the decade’s most insane and outlandish events unfolded during Holyfield and Bowe fights, especially the night a man in a paraglider crashed into the ring smack in the middle of their 1993 heavyweight title rematch. Bowe hadn’t even gone through hell twice with Andrew Golota yet, and still he was a magnet for nonsense by the time they connected for a rubbermatch in 1995.

The public dined on news of Mike Tyson’s comeback in the summer of ‘95, and when Tyson predictably delivered a sudden and early stoppage of Peter McNeeley, it catapulted him back into the heavyweight mix. Anyone who wanted the heftiest payday available needed to go through Tyson, and most assumed he would face the winner of Bowe and Holyfield’s third fight.

That Bowe and Holyfield, separately volatile fighters, joined up and made for highly combustible action shouldn’t have surprised anyone. They beat the daylights out of each other for 12 rounds in 1992, and it was a fight with timeless, crushing action. Bowe’s display of in-fighting for a fighter his size was only overshadowed by the heart of an outsized Holyfield. Their aforementioned rematch had its own memorable action besides anything airborne.

The only millstone around the fight’s neck was the lack of title on the line. Holyfield was outboxed by Michael Moorer and diagnosed with a heart issue immediately after rematching Bowe, who subsequently fought off his own personal hobgoblins before scoring three straight victories. They sure did lose years of their lives in those first two fights, though. Now they would be older and more stationary. And in some ways that suggested even more ruthless action awaited.

“Bowe… is firmly favored to win the rubber match, but that won’t dissuade true boxing enthusiasts from watching, especially those who saw the first two fights,” wrote Nigel Collins for The Ring. “Sure, Bowe is younger, bigger, stronger and can punch harder, but Holyfield has always been full of surprises.”

For the third time in a row, Holyfield gave up about 30 pounds to Bowe. The size difference was part of the matchup’s appeal since Holyfield built his name on excelling despite being “undersized” for the division. Case in point, Holyfield found a way to jab with Bowe in the opening round of this rubbermatch at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas.

Common sense suggests the taller, bigger fighter should win a jabbing battle, and that’s usually the case, but some fighters can use a blend of timing, footwork, head movement and varied delivery to out-jab larger opponents. Holyfield was one such fighter.

Holyfield changed tactics in round two, however, and launching into Bowe’s wheelhouse with wide punches didn’t help. Bowe, who initially looked sluggish, warmed up and got his vaunted uppercut working before both men punched after the bell. Whether by choice or because his legs couldn’t handle moving, Holyfield again went back to grinding inside with Bowe and once more caught the worst of it as he ate a hook that appeared to wobble him.

“I’m not sure what Evander Holyfield is trying to prove, but I’m not sure he proved it with that strategy,” HBO commentator Larry Merchant said at the end of the round.

Round four opened with Holyfield finally opening up and clearly winning an exchange as he strafed Bowe with punches inside. Then Bowe went to work for the last two minutes of the round as Holyfield simply tied him up.

Vintage Bowe showed up in the fifth as he seamlessly weaved body shots into his combinations, though strayed low just enough to draw a warning and then lose a point. Out of nowhere, Holyfield could barely hold his guard up and looked half-evaporated.

Holyfield, temporarily forgetting he was human, bit his gumshield and chucked a series of punches ended by a left hook that put Bowe down for the first time in his professional career in round six. A confused Bowe scraped himself off the deck to beat the count and went to a corner, where he ate a handful of big shots but survived.

Halfway through the round, Holyfield basically shut off. Bowe pushed Holyfield to the ropes and kept him at bay with hard jabs for about a minute. And before the round ended, Holyfield lashed out and pushed Bowe back with several of his own jabs.

Footwork from both in round seven clearly showed they were tired, and probably different fighters than their first two meetings. They collided inside, pushed and shoved at one another between cuffing and sloppy punches. Both were warned for holding and found the energy to exchange a few times in the last 40 seconds of the round. Holyfield’s corner begged him not to stand in front of Bowe, but what else could he do with dead legs?

Bowe started round eight more aggressive than usual and he walked through fire from Holyfield to put “The Real Deal” down with a right hand inside. Holyfield barely beat the count and quickly went down after two more right hands when the fight continued, and action was waved off immediately.

The post-fight interviews were full of respect and candid answers, much like the pre-fight press conferences.

“To be honest, I like this guy,” Bowe said with a grin before the third fight. “But I gotta put something on him.”

Neither fighter was done with boxing yet, but in Bowe’s case, he would never be the same fighter as he was against Holyfield. For nearly 30 years, Bowe’s name has been quickly mentioned as a heavyweight who looked terrific during a brief and fiery prime. To some, he remains an example of fighters burning out in the gym and at the dinner table.

Holyfield moved on to a tussle with Bobby Czyz that led to a long overdue series of fights with Tyson, which, combined with contemporary performance-enhancing, temporarily reinvigorated his career.

Throughout the 1990s, heavyweight boxing was a reminder of the sport’s daily push and pull of what’s best for the fighters and what fans want, and how the two are rarely the same. The nonstop action and lunacy of the decade couldn’t have been friendly to the pugilists and their bodies, though it’s what fans demanded.

Some trilogies are watered down by a weak fight of three or because the last fight happened at an inopportune time. Not Bowe-Holyfield. Every fight was punishing and awful, helping to shape the landscape of heavyweight history.