I am entirely unfamiliar with the fighter, can anyone tell me how they rate him as a fighter, what his career amounted to, and what caused all his losses?
He was pretty good. A lot of his fights were on short notice and he was on the wrong end of some controversial scores, but basically he had a habit of losing competitively instead of actually doing enough to win.
Augustus like many fighters before him and after him had plenty of talent, but didn't have a well connected manager or much financial backing behind him. Unfortunately it takes the right connections, very good management, and a lot of money to go far in boxing. Talent alone only gets you so far. That said I'd rate him as a very good fighter considering he was able to compete with a lot of excellent fighters despite having to consistently fight on short notice. Here is a piece on Augustus talking about his career. Born Emanuel Burton in Chicago, Augustus never knew his parents growing up. He spent most of his life bouncing between group homes in Baton Rouge. He first learned to box as a street fighter, someone ready to brawl at the slightest insult and with a determination and toughness that would serve him well in his pro career. “I was an angry, angry person,” Augustus says. “My whole life, I was basically lied to, and I didn’t find out until my early 20s. All this time I was taken from my parents, done this to, done that to, taken from one group home to the next.” In his late teens, shortly after getting out of his last group home, Augustus discovered organized boxing when he walked into the gym on 14th Street and met trainer Frank James. “I was staying with my grandma and had to find something to do,” Augustus says. “I didn’t want to be a drug dealer or go back to jail. I had already been to jail already.” He forged a close relationship with James, a staple of the Baton Rouge boxing scene who died in 2006 at the age of 47. As a young fighter, Augustus moved in with James’ family, spending long nights training in the garage. “He was completely raw but he had the mental attitude,” said Frankie Caruso, a retired Baton Rouge policeman who coached for years at the 14th Street gym. “His mental way of looking at it was, ‘You’re not going to hurt me, and I’m going to beat you.’ Emanuel just wanted to fight: He didn’t care who he fought or where he fought.” A light welterweight who was never well connected in the murky business of boxing, Augustus found himself relegated to working as what boxing insiders call a “gatekeeper” — a ferociously tough journeyman against whom to test up-and-coming younger fighters. Ask anyone who followed Augustus during his fighting days and they’ll tell you about fights taken on extremely short notice, bouts against promising fighters in their hometowns, with unfavorable referees and questionable judges. Georgetown, who became a boxing and mixed martial arts matchmaker following a brief professional fighting career, recalled repeatedly seeing Augustus outmatch fighters but still come out on the short end of judges’ decisions. “He was fighting in their backyard, their gym with their judges. It was really hard to get a decision,” Caruso said. “Several times, Emanuel did so good and it was obvious he’d won the fights. Even the guy’s hometown crowd would boo because they knew that the guy didn’t win.” A particularly notorious decision against Augustus followed a 10-round bout in 2004 with Courtney Burton in Michigan. It led to calls for an official investigation and left boxing trainer and commentator Teddy Atlas, who was calling the fight for ESPN, outraged. “He won this damn fight; this is a disgrace!” screamed Atlas as he harangued a Michigan boxing official on national TV. “This is what’s wrong with boxing!” And even when a big breakthrough seemed just around the corner, something seemed to hold him back. Augustus’ 2001 fight against Ward, a brutal 10-round slugfest he’d taken on two weeks’ notice, was named by both The Ring magazine and ESPN as their fight of the year. Judges made a unanimous, though close, decision in favor of Ward, launching the boxer who later would become the subject of the movie “The Fighter” toward big-purse fights and a legendary three-fight series with Arturo Gatti. Mayweather, perhaps the greatest pound-for-pound fighter of his generation, has consistently called Augustus the toughest fighter he’s ever faced. But with a slew of tough losses on his record and without friends in high places, the big opportunities never came Augustus’ way. “He never had anyone looking out for him,” said Ron Katz, a matchmaker who set up a number of fights for Augustus during the height of his career. “Emanuel could fight, but he was ‘have gloves, will travel.’ ” “He fought as tough of a schedule as anyone could fight,” said Al Bernstein, a sportscaster and Hall of Fame boxing analyst who now calls fights for Showtime. “If you had to put it in a succinct way, I’d say he’s somebody who was much better than that record would indicate, somebody that but for a few breaks here and there would’ve had a much more overall successful career. I think most people in boxing certainly have a great deal of respect for his toughness, ability and knowledge of the sport.” Augustus kept toiling away. His goofy antics in the ring — where he’d throw unconventional combinations and then dance away from his opponent — earned him the nickname “The Drunken Master” and a loyal following among fight fans. But despite the procession of televised fights and entertaining bouts with some of the biggest stars, the money never poured in. Sean Lynn, a friend of Augustus who is making a documentary about his career, estimates Augustus’ biggest single payday at maybe $30,000 or $40,000 — a sizable check but nothing compared with the earnings of some other fighters. The end — though not his last fight — came during a stint fighting in Australia. Augustus took an offer to fight up a weight class against then-24-year-old Nigerian welterweight Wale Omotoso. “I didn’t take into account that I’d moved up in weight — I didn’t have to and I damn sure shouldn’t have, but I did,” Augustus says. “I had this superman mentality because I was from America. I thought, ‘Well, it doesn’t matter what weight I’m at because these guys, they don’t know nothing about boxing. I’ll go over and teach these guys some things, make good money and I’ll get my life back on track and move on.’ The exact opposite happened. They showed me.” The shoe dropped in the final round when Omotoso, who’d been jabbing with his left throughout the fight, connected with a big right hook that sent Augustus staggering. “He lowered the boom, and that’s all she wrote,” Augustus says. “When he finally did use that right hand, all it took was one time.” The blow broke Augustus’ orbital bone and almost certainly gave him a concussion that never fully healed, Morvant said. By the time he got back to the United States, his eyes were pointing in different directions and his skills were much diminished. Though he fought several more professional fights, he was never the same. “That was the punch that changed everything,” Morvant said. “That right hand really did something.” “About a year after his last fight, he called and wanted to fight, and I gave him hell,” Katz said. “When time comes, it comes.” By the time Augustus got back to Baton Rouge a few years ago — he isn’t quite sure when — most of his possessions were gone and he struggled to find work outside the ring. A fiercely independent, proud person, Augustus also didn’t call on friends for help and wound up living in shelters on the street. “The purses were all gone,” Augustus says. “Somebody else got them, not me. The only thing I got were like trickles.” Though he now struggles with his balance and memory and occasionally gets dizzy walking around the house, he insists he’s training for a comeback and bristles at the suggestion he ever retired from boxing. A set of dumbbells sit on the counter of at his fiancée’s place, and he suddenly, without prompting, demonstrates some of the exercises he’s been using to drill his body back into shape. “I don’t have nothing else to do. All I know is boxing,” Augustus says. “I never forgot how to box. I got shot, but I still remember exercises; I remember how to make my body stronger.” It’s a bit of hope that keeps Augustus going. But asked about his chances of a comeback a few days later, he’s much more resigned. “No matter how bad I want to get back in the ring and fight, who the hell is going to OK it?” Augustus says. “So now, how am I supposed to make money? What kind of life am I supposed to live? What kind of life is this, being handicapped on the slick? “Now what?” https://www.theadvocate.com/baton_r...cle_a2ed3fa7-4c0f-5998-a029-e97d22842604.html
He lost some close fights, mostly on the road, but he also got beat fairly in a lot of fights where he was ‘competitive’ but not winning enough rounds. He’s a guy who could step in with the best and give them a fight but not necessarily do enough to beat them. But all in all I’d say he had a very credible career. Everybody can’t be champ.
A mixture of bad management, taking fights on short notice, clowning too much, not doing enough to win rounds, and used as a stepping stone for up and comers. He's had some fights that he lost controversially but there's been plenty of times where he was legitimately beaten by better fighters. With all that said he was a highly entertaining fighter win or lose. One could imagine how good he could have been if he had better management, trainer, and took the sport much more seriously. He had some serious talents and skills for someone that was journeyman level.
With better management and training he maybe could of been champion, definitely could of made more money. He would of fit in well in earlier eras when everybody was fighting all of the time.
