Judges are supposed to score what happens inside the ropes using the four criteria: clean punches, effective aggression, defense, and ring generalship. That’s it.
They’re not supposed to factor in backstory, reputations, or emotions. But the truth is, no one comes into a fight with their mind completely erased.
Judges are human. And humans carry baggage.
The Ghosts of Knockouts
Suppose a judge knows a fighter was knocked out in his last fight. Maybe they saw it on TV, or maybe they were even at ringside that night. That knowledge can sneak into the subconscious.
A guy who’s been laid out before can look wobbly the moment he gets touched again—even if it’s not much of a punch. That ghost knockout plays tricks on perception.
Take Meldrick Taylor. After Julio César Chávez stopped him dramatically in 1990, every subsequent fight was seen through that lens. Fans and judges alike were primed to see him as vulnerable. Past knockouts shouldn’t color the present, but they whisper in your ear anyway.
They absolutely shouldn’t. Judges are required to evaluate what’s in front of them in the moment—nothing more, nothing less.
Records That Tell Stories
A fighter with a losing record enters the ring, and the story can seem pre-written. The journeyman with a ledger of 8–17, 17–55, or 2–27 steps in against a 14–0 prospect, and when the underdog lands, it doesn’t always land on the scorecard the same way. His punches may be just as clean, but reputations carry invisible weight.
The assumption is that the B-sider was brought in to lose, and everyone knows it. But sometimes the B-side fighter forgets to read the script.
On smaller cards, mismatches happen more often. Fans rarely see the scramble promoters face when fighters don’t make weight, fail physicals, or simply don’t show up. Finding late replacements isn’t easy, but plenty of fighters with bad records are willing to step in.
Judges know this. They see it all the time. But every fighter deserves an impartial evaluation, and sometimes the “opponent” has a night way above what was expected. Judges must stay alert to that.
Cornermen and Star Power
The corner matters more than we like to admit. When a Hall of Fame trainer is barking instructions—say Freddie Roach or Eddie Futch back in the day—it gives their fighter an aura of legitimacy. The other guy’s cornerman may be a dedicated local coach who’s forgotten more about boxing than most fans ever knew, but he doesn’t have the spotlight. And that spotlight can cast a glow over every punch thrown.
If a thought like “Gee, Freddie Roach is in the corner…” crosses a judge’s mind, they’d better double down on what they actually see, because cornermen don’t throw punches.
You don’t need to be an insider to spot who has money behind them. The entourage, the advisors, the layers of support—it’s obvious. Meanwhile, the B-side fighter is standing with his brother in the corner and no one else. Sometimes that guy can really fight, and he deserves a fair shake.
Trunks, Shoes, and Presentation
It sounds silly, but it isn’t. Flashy trunks, bright shoes, and a polished look draw the eye. Boxing is part sport, part theater, and judges don’t watch in black and white.
When one fighter comes in with a custom robe and trunks, $300 shoes, and $400 Japanese gloves, while the other shows up in Walmart shorts, beat-up shoes, and a towel for a robe, those images can slip into a judge’s consciousness.
Judges need to recognize how presentation can bias perception—and then ignore it.
The Geography Factor
Crowd noise is one of the loudest forms of bias. A Mexican fighter in Mexico City, an Irishman on St. Patrick’s weekend in New York, or a Brit at the O2 Arena—every landed shot explodes with approval. And sometimes the crowd roars when nothing really landed.
Geography also comes into play with a fighter’s hometown. Hear “Brooklyn,” “Philadelphia,” “Los Angeles,” or “Detroit,” and gyms like Gleason’s, Frazier’s, Wild Card, and Kronk come to mind. Hear “Canajoharie, New York,” “Elkhart, Indiana,” or “Pittstown, Pennsylvania,” and… nothing comes to mind.
Judges need to put those associations aside and score what’s actually happening in the ring.
The Mental Load of Neutrality
The biggest challenge in judging isn’t scoring punches—it’s resisting invisible forces. You’ve got to reset every round, every fight. The fighter with the glass jaw deserves a clean slate. The underdog’s jab counts the same as the prospect’s. Trunks and trainers don’t throw punches. The crowd is noise, not evidence.
That’s not easy in real time. You’re making 36 separate mini-verdicts in a 12-round fight, each one decided in seconds but carrying consequences that can last a lifetime.
Why It Matters
When judges don’t recognize their biases, fighters pay the price. Careers derail. Titles change hands unjustly. And fans lose trust. In a sport that already struggles for mainstream legitimacy, bad decisions driven by subconscious prejudice are deadly.
That’s why the best judges I know spend as much energy on self-awareness as on eyesight. Before every fight, they remind themselves: clean slate. No history. No trunks. No trainers. Just the punches.
The Bottom Line
Judging isn’t just about knowing the four scoring criteria. It’s about knowing yourself.
The ghosts of past knockouts, the sway of records, the glow of star trainers, the flash of trunks, and the roar of crowds—they’re all trying to score the fight for you.
The job is to shut them out. Because in the end, every fighter deserves to be judged for what he does tonight—not for who he was yesterday.