Lance Pugmire: As Vasiliy Lomachenko exits boxing today, he does so leaving a wealth of memories – none more vivid in my mind than his run of stopping four consecutive opponents on his stool to create the moniker “No-Mas-Chenko.”
I had the good fortune of sitting ringside for three of those four stoppages, missing only his ninth-round finish in 2017 of Jason Sosa.
During this period, promoter Bob Arum was comparing Lomachenko to Muhammad Ali and labeling him the “Picasso” of the sport, as the two-time Olympic champion from Ukraine was dominating what proved to be his ideal weight class.
Coming off a June 2016 knockout of Roman “Rocky” Martinez in Madison Square Garden, Lomachenko opened his run of stoppages versus hard-hitting Nicholas Walters at The Cosmopolitan in Las Vegas.
Walking out of the venue that night with Lomachenko, you could see the pleasure he took with such a superb showing, a complete execution that dismantled the foe’s fight plan – and hopes.
That night was the springboard for Lomachenko to win fighter of the year in 2017, a campaign he launched in Southern California by disposing of Miguel Marriaga to close the seventh round – knocking him down in both the third and seventh at Microsoft Theater.
Following the Sosa win at MGM National Harbor in Maryland, Lomachenko earned his deserved stage – Madison Square Garden. A few years earlier, I had bet a peer that Lomachenko was superior to fellow two-time Olympic gold medalist Guillermo Rigondeaux.
The difference was far wider than I thought.
Lomachenko’s skill and power reduced Rigondeaux to a no-hoper, as he was left to absorb the beating and forced to hold so desperately that he had a point deducted in the sixth round.
When Rigondeaux didn’t answer the bell for the seventh, Lomachenko’s legend was sealed – a remarkable stretch produced by a wondrous talent.
Lucas Ketelle: My memory of Lomachenko is more about what he stood for. He wanted the legacy; he was not motivated by money. He fought for a title in his second pro fight and lost to Orlando Salido. In an era where losing your undefeated record was a death sentence, he followed that up by defeating then-unbeaten Gary Russell Jnr to become a titleholder. The achievements continued. He became a three-division champion in 12 fights. He also did the heavy lifting to unify many of the lightweight titles, so we could see an undisputed champion in the division. In an era of ‘super-fights’, Lomachenko pursued champions. Fights that furthered his legacy, but not always his wallet. There was no smoke and mirrors, he took the fights against consequential opposition for a purpose. That also might be why his professional career didn’t turn out the same way some had hoped.
Lomachenko will be remembered by me as the spiritual opposite of modern boxing. He was inspired by greatness and legacy over money, and social media. It is hard to pick a moment with him that stands out. It is the sum of all the parts that summarizes his great career.
Kieran Mulvaney: I’m not sure I fully grasped just how good Vasiliy Lomachenko was the first time I saw him, when he stopped Jose Luis Ramirez in his pro debut in 2013. I gained a greater appreciation for his talents when he tried, and failed, to take Orlando Salido's featherweight title in just his second outing in the paid ranks. The clincher for me was fight number three, when he responded to the Salido setback, not by retrenching and building himself up again, but by matching up with then-unbeaten and highly regarded Gary Russell Jr. for a vacant title.
It wasn’t just the readiness with which he dared to be great; it was the effectiveness and artistry with which he achieved his aims. Ignore the few curiously contrarian takes on his legacy. “18-3 isn’t much of a record.” “He lost every big fight he was in.” Such gripes are extensions of the isolated recalcitrance toward giving the Ukrainian his flowers even when at his peak, but they lack any kind of context.
For one thing, that 18-3 record deserves a deeper dive. Defeat number one came in fight number two – which, it bears repeating and underlining, was against 55-fight veteran and noted badass Salido. Salido weighed in more than two pounds overweight, pounded Lomachenko repeatedly in the balls without recourse, and even then was holding on by the end as Lomachenko turned up the pressure.
As for the other two losses: I’ll grant you Teofimo Lopez. I had Lopez winning that bout by one round after the Ukrainian took far too long to get going. But I still for the life of me have no idea what the ringside judges were watching when he faced Devin Haney in May 2023; Haney fought well, but from my perspective, Lomachenko boxed his ears off down the stretch.
Plus, both those bouts took place at lightweight, a weight class that, even though he became unified and lineal champ, was almost certainly too big for him.
(When Lomachenko was being widely acclaimed as pound-for-pound number one, his biggest rival for the mythical crown was Terence Crawford, then campaigning at 140 pounds. When the idea was put to him at an HBO fighter meeting of stepping up to challenge the Nebraskan, Lomachenko was incredulous. “This is Playstation boxing,” he protested.)
To suggest he lost all his big fights is to dismiss wins over Russell or Guillermo Rigondeaux as meaningless, even though for years Rigondeaux fans insisted theirs was the better man and the true generational talent. It also simply waves away his streak of making four straight opponents quit, beginning with Nicholas Walters, extending through Miguel Marriaga and Jason Sosa and concluding with Rigondeaux.
The dominant win over the Cuban was perhaps the last fight of Lomachenko’s peak. Thereafter, he stepped up to 135 and, perhaps not coincidentally, his body began to betray him. Even then, he still scored stoppage wins over the likes of Jorge Linares and Masayoshi Nakatani, concluding his career by halting George Kambosos Jr.
The true measure of Lomachenko’s greatness, however, lay not in statistics but in watching him.
I had a ringside view of the first half of Lomachenko’s career when I worked at HBO. I grew to consider him then, and consider him still, one of the most sublime, if mercurial, talents I’ve ever seen in the ring. The key to his success was dance; he learned to dance as part of his training, and that was a major reason why he was always so superbly balanced, why he was so compact, why his footwork was so otherworldly.
It was that ability to pivot on a dime while always retaining his compactness and balance that made him such a threat as well as such a joy to watch. And it was a nightmare for opponents, who could never figure out where he was or how to hit him.
I wish he had never moved up to lightweight; he has a case for all-time-great status as it is, but had he stayed at 130, I doubt there would have been much room for dissent, even among a boxing fandom that regularly ties itself in knots trying desperately to show how smart it is.
It's appropriate that we look back on his career on Hall-of-Fame weekend. Three years from now, the Ukrainian will be eligible for induction, and I won’t need to hesitate for even a second before voting for him.
Tom Ivers: It saddens me that I will never get to watch the great Vasiliy Lomachenko in the flesh. I must have watched hundreds of hours of the Ukrainian’s dazzling footwork as an amateur boxer trying to replicate his style and never quite could. How he was able to move, pivot, and punch, all seemingly with ease will always amaze me. The first time I watched Lomachenko was during the 2012 London Olympics and I couldn’t believe just how good he was. The fight that stands out in my memory, however, is when he stepped up to face Jorge Linares for the WBA lightweight title. He had no business fighting at 130lbs, and Linares was at the peak of his powers, but still Lomachenko walked away victorious – despite being dropped for the first time. That fight summed Lomachenko up. He was fearless, chasing accolades and achievements instead of protecting his ‘0’ like so many do. He could have spent his career at 126 and 130lbs but chose to fight much bigger men for more of a challenge. I still think to this day that he beat Haney and should have been crowned undisputed champion; an achievement that meant so much to him. His 18-3 record won’t be looked at in years to come by fans the way it really should be. For me, in his prime, Vasiliy Lomachenko is the closest thing to perfection you can get. There will never be anyone like him again. I hope amateur boxers watch him for years to come, like I did, and learn from a true master of the sweet science.
Matt Christie: Watching Lomachenko bewilder and then break Guillermo Rigondeaux in New York is one of my favorite memories from ringside. It’s true that Rigo was making too big a jump through the weight classes but the disparity in speed, skill, and intelligence was even more stark than the size difference. I came away from that fight believing that Loma was all but invincible and his humility before and after the contest was also striking. Though he may not have been the greatest fighter of his era he is certainly the most unique and arguably the most influential. In the same way that we saw boxers come along who tried (and largely failed) to mimic Ali, Leonard and Mayweather, we are currently seeing numerous up-and-comers attempting to show off moves inside the ring that were clearly inspired by the great Ukrainian. There can only be one Vasiliy Lomachenko, however.
Declan Warrington: I consider it a privilege to have watched him from ringside several times while he was at his peak. I went out of my way to be present in New York when he stopped Guillermo Rigondeaux, who it’s no exaggeration to say was a fighter of the highest calibre. I also went out of my way to be present in Los Angeles when he stopped Anthony Crolla at the conclusion of one of the most memorable fight weeks I’ve attended. I was ringside in London when he outpointed Luke Campbell in what remains one of my favourite fights of all – and may well prove the classiest I ever attend – and also in Las Vegas when he narrowly lost to Devin Haney, when he was past his remarkable peak but in what is another of the highest-quality boxing matches I’ve been very fortunate to have watched. I believe Lomachenko, not Oleksandr Usyk, is the best fighter we’ve seen since Floyd Mayweather. I’ll consider myself very fortunate if I ever end up attending the fights of a superior fighter; I find it unthinkable that I’ll ever attend the fights of someone who can box with even more style and grace.
Owen Lewis: I came to boxing after Lomachenko’s prime, which means I missed out on his most scintillating performances live. But that left me with a treasure trove of YouTube highlights to dine on. The best, in my opinion: in the 11th round of a competitive fight with Jose Pedraza, Loma hurt his man, then threw both caution to the wind and every punch variation imaginable. He seemed utterly unconcerned about punching himself out and simply poured offense, head and body, onto Pedraza until he dropped. A second knockdown followed shortly, after which Lomachenko made a throat-slashing gesture to the crowd. Thanks to his resilience and Loma’s lack of finishing power, Pedraza lasted the distance. But that moment gives me chills, and is the best example of Lomachenko at his peak to me – an indefatigable, versatile fighter made of pure energy. I hope he takes some time to watch and live vicariously through his tennis counterpart, Carlos Alcaraz, in retirement.