Craig Houk, Hector Camacho, and the eight seconds of greatness

The sliding doors moment came for Craig Houk, not at the start of his career but right at the end, after 108 fights and 37 losses, when he dropped Hector “Macho” Camacho in the opening round.

Today, 60-year-old Houk pulls his phone from his pocket and takes such little time locating the clip of him dumping the Hall of Famer on the canvas it’s clear he’s watched it thousands of times. 

“I almost had him,” Houk chuckles. 

Camacho would get up and stop Houk in the third, the 38th defeat of his career. He would fight once more after a four-year hiatus and retire in 2007 with a record of 67-39 (18 KOs). He also shared a ring with Julio Cesar Chavez, Meldrick Taylor, Joey Gamache and the defeat to Camacho was the second time he’d lost to the “Macho” man. 

“It’s a moment of greatness,” Houk says, watching the clip again. “Okay, it’s only eight seconds, but it’s a lifetime of work and dedication. And that’s what I try to explain to people – eight seconds of greatness lasts a lifetime.”

Houk dwells on that moment of greatness with only pride. There is no regret, no what-ifs, no excuses – and certainly no sense of grandeur. He was aware of his limitations and knew his place in a sport that remains as beloved to him today as it was when he first stepped into a ring at the age of seven.

In 2018, he founded the Indiana Boxing Hall of Fame and he regularly travels the country to spread the word – just like he used to travel the world to fight. 

On November 27, 1989, Houk used the alias of Tim Bennett and outpointed Jason Harrison over six rounds in Oklahoma. The following night he was in Indianapolis, under his own name, to defeat Rocky Berg over 10. “Sometimes I’d get two or three weeks’ notice, sometimes a month, sometimes a day. People ask how I got ready for that. You couldn’t get ready, you had to stay ready.”

Much of the 1990s was spent journeying from state to state, washing in gas stations, waiting for the call. Sometimes he’d box under the name of Bennett, just to get a fight, but mostly he was Craig Houk, the redneck brawler who in 1994 found himself in Las Vegas, boxing inside the MGM Grand, on the undercard of Felix Trinidad-Camacho.

In the opposite corner was the comebacking Meldrick Taylor. “He had the fastest hands I ever faced,” Houk recalls. “Camacho had the fastest hands of any southpaw, so I can say I’ve had it coming at me from both sides.” Taylor would halt Houk in three rounds.

A year later he admits to being overawed when he was matched with the 95-1-1 Julio Cesar Chavez. In their brief battle – the Mexican legend won inside 80 seconds – Houk was outclassed but he never went into fights against such opposition without hope.

“Here’s the thing: I had a chance to win,” he says. He remembers walking past Michael Jordan and Mr T on his way to the ring. “Being there, with those guys, you have a chance. It took me a while to understand that. When I fought Camacho again, I knew I had a chance to land that big punch. And that’s all you’re looking for in situations like that – just one more chance. That’s all you think about: That chance to knock out one of the greatest fighters.”

It only presented itself once. Houk hurled his left hook and down went Camacho in 2003, seven years after the former light and junior welterweight titlist had won their first encounter in two rounds. When the shot landed, Houk knew he’d taken his chance.

“I felt it in the shoulder,” Houk says. “As you can see I threw the left hook and he went down. He tried to catch me on the way down. I jumped out of the way. I knew he was hurt, I had my hands up in the air. I knew it was my moment, it was a greater feeling than even winning a fight. But unfortunately, when I moved out of the way, and then I badly wanted to knock him out, I should have kept my own punches straighter. He had so much experience, he was a great fighter – and my moment passed.”

Every moment passes, alas, and Houk is forever grateful he has something to show for his. The pride he takes in reliving that moment – that chance – is plain to see. 

“Boxing changed my life,” Houk exclaims. “I was a kid, at seven years old, and my dad took me to the ring. I’d been picked on by bigger guys but learning to box paid off, I used it as my power. I learned self defense, how to take care of myself, and had the privilege of sharing a ring with guys who were at the absolute highest level. I’ll always appreciate it.”