When Ward landed his famous left hook downstairs, it had the potential to end fights almost immediately. The punch was like a special move from a video game or movie that would be easily dismissed as too outlandish. During fights, Ward fixed his gaze and reached, almost in an exaggerated way, sending a carrier pigeon to let opponents know his left hand would be looping around the right elbow of an opponent, over and over.

When he was only 20, storied matchmaker Teddy Brenner said of Ward in The Ring: “Of all the newcomers, Micky is one of the most intelligent fighters we’ve had on ESPN. He’s not mechanical. He’s smart and takes advantage of his opponent at exactly the right time. He’s a pleasing fighter in the ring.”

The hook to the body worked a lot of the time, even when Ward was behind on the judges’ cards. Sometimes it didn’t, though, and in those instances Ward could look basic, easily out-boxed. In 2001, fifteen years after Brenner gave his blessing, Ward was still a pleasing fighter, but he also still fought on the ESPN level more often than not. His last few good win streaks were interrupted by annoying losses, and at 35, he knew any given calendar year could be his last in boxing.

Emanuel Augustus, who then went by Emanuel Burton, would sign to face anyone weighing between 135 and 147 pounds. His 24-17-4 record really wasn’t that far off from Ward’s, which was 36-10. But as a fighter who would happily accept short money for last-minute fights close to an opponent’s hometown, Augustus was a journeyman in the truest sense of the word, while Ward was a former high-potential prospect drowned out in a sea of talent.

Nigel Collins, then The Ring’s editor, said: “[Augustus] never stopped sacrificing himself in pursuit of a goal that probably only he believed he could achieve.”

It was unfortunately as half-true as it was poetic, because Augustus’ belief in himself visibly wavered in fights where he showed up for the paycheck. If those were fights Augustus actually thought he could win, he didn’t display that in the ring. If Ward’s weakness was his stylistic predictability, then Augustus’ was inconsistency. For every fight where he used his awkward and incredible rhythm to befuddle a foe, there was another fight he sleepwalked through.

Augustus fought eight times between 1999 and 2000, ending the latter year giving Floyd Mayweather, Jr. hell before losing by stoppage. He returned in early 2001, fighting twice in the course of a week. Then he tested positive for marijuana following a TKO victory over Mike Griffith that sat him out temporarily before he got the call to face Ward on ESPN.

Ward-Augustus, then billed Ward-Burton, was a hardcore matchup through and through. Scheduled for July 13, 2001 — 25 years ago today — at the 2000-seat Hampton Beach Casino in New Hampshire, the fight card had no big names and was handled by J. Russell Peltz, whose time promoting in Philly ensured he knew fan-friendly fights when he saw them on paper. But nobody in attendance could have known they were in for the “Fight of the Year.”

The way to defeat Ward was moving and keeping him from setting his feet, which he needed to do in order to dig in with his hook. He didn’t have a great right hand, and he often doubled up on his hook, either upstairs, downstairs or mixing it up, to compensate. Augustus refused to move against “Irish” Micky. Instead he went to the ropes and sat there with a cross-arm defense, inviting Ward in to attack his body as he countered in the moments between Ward’s 100+ punches in the opening round.

Ward’s aggressive approach won the crowd over, though as rounds went by it became clear Augustus was also having some things his way. To begin with, Augustus swayed and leaned away from Ward’s punches and caught many of them on his gloves, whereas Ward’s forward momentum walked him straight into Augustus’ counters. By Round 3, Augustus had started his signature off-kilter dance that later earned him the fan nickname “The Drunken Master,” a move that usually meant he’d truly shown up for the fight.

The exchanges quickly became more desperate in Round 4. Despite no title being on the line, by that point it was obvious that this was the kind of fight fans watched boxing for years hoping to one day see. There weren’t many jabs, very few clinches, and in close the fighters traded recklessly between angling for the best roundhouse whack.

Ward needed to land his left hook downstairs, but Augustus wouldn’t give him an open target. Not without a price. And a tired-looking Ward absorbed far more than he gave in Round 5 before going to his corner disappointed.

Augustus began Round 6 with a grin on his face inside and he tattooed Ward with combinations. The crowd cheered every looping shot Ward missed, but he landed enough to get back into the fight, even if many of the cleanest punches came from Augustus. Ward pushed Augustus back to the ropes again in the seventh round, and initially Ward took advantage of the trench warfare before absorbing a handful of punches, notably a left hook to the body, that visibly slowed him down in the last half of the round. Ward fought his way out of immediate danger, but plainly got the worst of it.

The 35-year-old Ward didn’t have the juice to stay on Augustus for several rounds, never mind all 10. In Round 8, Augustus got space and forced Ward to reach in while timing counters once more. Ward finally got Augustus to the ropes near the end of the round and connected just enough to rile the crowd again, but it was like Ward could actually sense the end of his career.

Ward charged out of his corner in the ninth round before losing steam and being fought backwards. Eventually Ward found the energy to punch Augustus halfway across the ring. Augustus suddenly looked tired and stood up straight, so Ward angled himself to the side and threw the left hook to the liver. When it didn’t land perfectly, Ward chucked a hook upstairs and threw it to the liver again. Augustus winced and went to one knee. He pulled himself up and not only survived the round but actually exchanged with Ward at a few points. Augustus took a huge breath just before the bell.

The club-sized crowd knew what this was. It was a war. The winner wasn’t getting a belt or a sash or trophy. They might get some drinks at the casino, maybe a discounted hotel room. And yet Ward and Augustus fought through Round 10 like they both needed the round. Unfortunately for Ward, he looked his age as Augustus recovered from the knockdown. Fortunately for Ward, the crowd support apparently equaled judge support, and he won a unanimous decision. One judge scored the close fight most saw, while the two others gave it to Ward by five points and eight points.

Augustus could have won the fight, but for the knockdown. Round by round, Augustus proved to be the more skilled of the two and consistently landed better punches, but that one left hook to the body opened the door for boxing to work its magic on a fighter often used to simply get opponents wins.

In his 16th year as a pro, it was about time “Irish” Micky reaped the benefit of his ancestral luck. He was never a champion, but the victory set him up to become a legend and an enduring fan favorite through a trilogy with Arturo Gatti.