For all the many macro debates to be had about what the International Boxing Hall of Fame is and should be, at this time of year, the focus shifts to the micro debates. Voters’ ballots are almost due — they have to be postmarked by next Thursday. And each name in each category on those ballots represents its own micro debate.

For me, the most compelling name to debate is that of Joel Casamayor. That’s partially for reasons specific to his career and what he achieved. And that’s partially because of the way his career can be very directly compared to two other fighters. One of them, Diego Corrales, was voted into the IBHOF one year ago. The other, Jose Luis Castillo, has been Hall-eligible for the last five years but has yet to appear on the ballot.

Ask any boxing fan to rattle off the best rivalries of the first decade of the 2000s, and in some order, these are the names you’ll hear: Marco Antonio Barrera and Erik Morales, Manny Pacquiao and Juan Manuel Marquez, Arturo Gatti and Micky Ward, and Israel Vazquez and Rafael Marquez. The three-way rivalry between Casamayor, Corrales, and Castillo will not so immediately roll off of tongues. And understandably so — their fights, aside from the first one between Corrales and Castillo, were not quite on that all-timer level.

But what a multi-directional rivalry it was. What outstanding, hyper-competitive battles they waged. What excellent fighters they were. And what a fascinating situation they are now in with regard to Hall of Fame recognition.

Let’s try first to examine Casamayor’s career in a vacuum, uncolored by the HOF status of either Corrales or Castillo.

After winning a gold medal at the 1992 Olympics in Barcelona at age 21, Casamayor waited four full years to defect from Cuba and turn pro. He fought for 15 years, from ’96 to 2011, retiring at age 40 with a record of 38 wins (22 by KO), 6 losses, and 1 draw. He had two alphabet title reigns: one at 130 pounds from 1999-2002, and another at 135 pounds from 2006-08, which included recognition from The Ring as the division’s true champ.

Attaching names to the numbers, his notable fights included, chronologically: a unanimous decision win over David Santos; a ninth-round stoppage of former titlist (and future elite trainer) Robert Garcia; a could’ve-gone-either-way unanimous decision loss to Acelino Freitas; a unanimous decision over previously undefeated Nate Campbell; a thrilling sixth-round stoppage win on cuts over Corrales; a similarly thrilling split decision loss to Corrales in the rematch; a split decision loss to then-lineal lightweight champ and fringe pound-for-pounder Castillo; a draw against unbeaten Almazbek “Kid Diamond” Raiymkulov; a split decision win over Corrales in their rubber match; a split decision win over Jose Armando Santa Cruz that was widely considered an unfathomable robbery; a scintillating 10th-round TKO over undefeated Michael Katsidis; an 11th-round stoppage defeat to Hall of Famer Juan Manuel Marquez in what had been an even fight through 10 rounds; and, on either side of his 40th birthday, once Casamayor was used up, losses to Robert Guerrero and Hall of Famer Tim Bradley.

In all, he handed six opponents their first defeats, he fought all the best 130-to-140-pound fighters of his era except Floyd Mayweather and Manny Pacquiao (both of whom he assuredly would have gladly faced if presented with the opportunity), and he went 2-2 against his fellow-IBHOF-gray-area rivals Corrales and Castillo.

Obviously, by the standards for entry in the early years of the Hall — when it was a legends-only club, and the next tier need not apply — Casamayor is not a Hall of Famer. But post the lowering of the bar — I’m not going to single anyone out, but peruse and you’ll surely find a few names that make you wince — the Cuban southpaw put together a career very much worthy of that micro debate.

In his case, which side of the fence you fall on may come down to how you scored one or two of his close fights. I personally think he deserved to have his hand raised against Freitas — he got lightly jobbed by the ref and the judges — and that may have been a deciding factor in my ticking off Casamayor’s name on last year’s ballot. If you think that decision was just, plus you’re still angry about the Santa Cruz decision, maybe it’s enough to prevent you from ever voting for “El Cepillo.”

As I just noted, I voted for Casamayor on last year’s ballot. I did not vote for Corrales. My thinking was that if one of the non-Floyd 130-pound titlists of the turn of the century deserved to go in, it was Casamayor, who went 2-1 against “Chico” and, to my eyes, deserved a narrow win over “Popo.” Casamayor has the all-around best resume of the three, with superior longevity and probably the best overall quality of opposition. I decided he was, ever so slightly, worthy of a vote. I felt Corrales was, ever so slightly, not worthy. And I felt Freitas fell decisively short.

I also predicted on the “Showtime Boxing with Raskin & Mulvaney” podcast recorded after I handed in my ballot a year ago that the most likely men to gain induction in that class would be Corrales, Ricky Hatton, and Ivan Calderon, none of whom I voted for. (I will admit, I didn’t see Michael Moorer’s induction coming.) It seemed probable to me that voters would reward the thrills/popularity of Corrales and Hatton, while the hardcore groundswell for Calderon was hard to miss among boxing writers on social media.

Casamayor didn’t have a calling card like those three. He wasn’t an utterly beloved Brit who sold out arenas and participated in superfights. He wasn’t a blood-and-guts warrior who prevailed in arguably the greatest bout in boxing history. And he wasn’t a sublimely skilled slickster who worked his way onto P4P lists. Casamayor was just really damned good for a long stretch of time in a way that never stood out from the crowd.

So it was no surprise that Corrales gained induction before he did. The questions now are whether Casamayor will someday join him, and whether Castillo will someday join the Cuban on the ballot.

Castillo is a fascinating case, a fighter who was, through 2005, on what seemed a clear Hall of Fame trajectory. He beat the excellent Stevie Johnston to claim his first lightweight belt. He gave Mayweather two of the toughest fights of his 50-0 career, arguably deserving to win one of them. He became the lineal lightweight champ once Floyd left the division, beating the likes of Juan Lazcano, Casamayor, and Julio Diaz. Then came May 7, 2005, and the first Corrales fight — a legacy-boosting defeat if ever there was one.

But then it got weird. He missed weight by 3½ pounds and used that size advantage to crush Corrales in the rematch. He missed weight again for the rubber match, causing its cancellation. He lost badly to Hatton in a 140-pound title try. And he fought on for another seven years, a long goodbye featuring no particularly glorious moments and one highly inglorious failure to make weight for a bout against Tim Bradley that, like the third Corrales fight, was scrapped.

Castillo went 2-1 against Corrales and Casamayor and may have had the most HOF-worthy career of the trio, but he left a lousy taste in everyone’s mouth and can’t even get on the ballot. Jorge Arce, Paulie Ayala, Lucian Bute, Mikey Garcia, Leo Gamez, Artur Grigorian, and Omar Narvaez are all on there. But Jose Luis Castillo, the best lightweight in the world for a couple of years, one half of the consensus greatest fight of this century, and the man who came closer than anyone to hanging an L on Mayweather, is not.

It's frequently said that a fighter can’t really hurt his Hall of Fame case after his prime — the legacy is secured and the late-career struggles aren’t held against him. Often that’s true. But it sure feels like the reason Castillo hasn’t been granted a vote from electors stems from failings that began when he hit his mid 30s. 

And, not to be insensitive, but Corrales’ Hall of Fame candidacy was boosted by an opposite run-out. He died young, at 29. He appeared all but finished already as a fighter. But we didn’t have to watch that proven in the ring over and over again. And as it so happens, Corrales missed weight by four pounds for his third fight against Casamayor. But he didn’t have the opportunity to let that devolve into a pattern, the way it did for Castillo.

Is it better, as Neil Young said (and Joe Elliott and others repeated), to burn out than to fade away? For a boxer on the Hall of Fame borderline, it seems so.

Anyway, Corrales is a Hall of Famer, and Castillo is not currently up for consideration. Casamayor is the only one of the three facing the jury this year.

Just three of the 42 fighters on the ballot will go in (barring ties), and one of those three spots belongs to Pacquiao. So it’s effectively a 2-in-41 shot. I don’t love Casamayor’s odds.

I haven’t even decided for sure if I’m voting for him yet. He’s one of about 10 names to whom I’m considering awarding one of my five votes. I still have another week to stall. This micro debate shall go on a few days longer.

But whether he gets my vote this year or not, it doesn’t seem right for history to separate Corrales, Castillo, and Casamayor. The “when” can vary — burning out and fading away take place on very different timelines, after all — but if one of them is a Hall of Famer, they all are in my book.

Eric Raskin is a veteran boxing journalist with more than 25 years of experience covering the sport for such outlets as BoxingScene, ESPN, Grantland, Playboy, Ringside Seat, and The Ring (where he served as managing editor for seven years). He also co-hosted The HBO Boxing Podcast, Showtime Boxing with Raskin & Mulvaney, The Interim Champion Boxing Podcast with Raskin & Mulvaney, and Ring Theory. He has won three first-place writing awards from the BWAA, for his work with The Ring, Grantland, and HBO. Outside boxing, he is the senior editor of and the author of 2014’s . He can be reached on or , or via email at RaskinBoxing@yahoo.com.