Time to mute the Rocky myth. We should celebrate the excellence of Philly’s real fighters instead.
The fictional hero is stitched together from the blood, sweat, and broken bones of real Black fighters who were born, bled, and fought in this city, only to be forgotten by it.
Philadelphia is a city obsessed with its own mythology, a place that clings to the ghosts of stories that never were while the living legacies of its real champions wither from neglect.
Nowhere is this contradiction more glaring than in the idolization of Rocky Balboa — a fictional composite stitched together from the blood, sweat, and broken bones of real Black fighters who were born in this city, fought in this city, and bled for this city, only to be forgotten by it.
Rocky, the great white hope of Hollywood fantasy, stands in eternal bronze at the foot of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, his fists raised in a victory that never happened. Tourists line up in droves, mimicking his ascent up the steps, basking in the borrowed glow of a triumph that belongs to no one.
Meanwhile, just a few miles away, the gym of a real champion, Joe Frazier, crumbles from disrepair, an afterthought to a city that chooses its heroes based on box office receipts rather than actual belts won in blood-soaked rings.
To understand the magnitude of this erasure, you have to know the names that should be enshrined in Philadelphia’s consciousness.
» READ MORE: We must save Joe Frazier’s Gym on North Broad Street | Opinion
Bennie Briscoe, a middleweight force of nature, never got the Hollywood ending, but his relentless style and iron will made him a legend.
Matthew Saad Muhammad, once homeless as a child, fought his way through the light heavyweight ranks with a ferocity that made his fights must-watch television.
And then there’s Bernard Hopkins, “The Executioner” himself, who went from Graterford prison to holding world titles across multiple decades, a walking testament to discipline, strategy, and the city’s hard-nosed ethos.
These men weren’t figments of an overactive imagination; they were flesh and bone, grit and resilience, champions in every sense of the word.
But the city’s commitment to myth over memory means we’d rather celebrate an underdog who never existed than acknowledge the greatness that did. We’d rather pour resources into fictionalized tourism than restore the sacred training grounds where real champions were forged.
The real history of Black accomplishment and genius in Philadelphia’s boxing scene is hidden in plain sight.
It’s telling that Joe Frazier’s Gym, a place where sweat-soaked dreams turned into title fights, is now a barely recognized historical site, while a movie prop has become one of the city’s most visited landmarks.
The irony stretches further. Fairmount Park’s Boxers’ Trail, a path where real fighters — including the great Smokin’ Joe himself — used to run, remains largely uncelebrated, overshadowed by the myth of Rocky’s run up the Art Museum steps.
The real history of Black accomplishment and genius in Philadelphia’s boxing scene is hidden in plain sight, buried beneath the city’s compulsive need to tell itself a whiter, more palatable version of the story.
Adding to this irony, few who visit the Art Museum steps and reenact Rocky’s fictional climb are aware the building itself was designed by an African American architect named Julian Francis Abele, who also designed the Parkway Central Library.
Nor are they aware there are no visible traces of African American history or Lenape history on the site, despite the fact that African Americans were present in William Penn’s first settlement before there was even a place named Philadelphia.
Jane Jacobs, in her prophetic observations in the 2005 book Dark Age Ahead, warned that when societies succumb to “mass amnesia,” they enter a period of cultural decline where essential knowledge, traditions, and historical truths are lost, leading to societal decay.
When we erase the stories of real champions and replace them with myths, we don’t just dishonor the past — we cripple the future. The next generation grows up with no understanding of the shoulders they stand on, no recognition of the struggles that paved their way, no road map to reclaim the greatness that came before.
When we erase the stories of real champions and replace them with myths, we don’t just dishonor the past — we cripple the future.
Without a connection to their true history, they are left to navigate a landscape built on half-truths and deliberate omissions, ensuring the cycle of erasure continues unchecked.
The defunding of education, libraries, and the creative commons further exacerbates this crisis. The decline in literacy rates — both in Philadelphia and nationally — only deepens the civic and civil ignorance that allows misinformation, authoritarianism, and fascism to thrive. A population that does not read, does not question, and does not remember is one that is easily manipulated.
Chris Hedges, in his 2009 book Empire of Illusion, warned of a society addicted to spectacle, where critical thought is replaced with consumerism, and democracy crumbles under the weight of collective ignorance. These dangers are not distant prophecies, they are today’s reality.
The Boxers’ Trail stands as a counterpoint to erasure, a living testament to the city’s storied boxing heritage. This 3.8-mile path, where Frazier once trained, and where Muhammad Ali reportedly sought him out for a challenge, embodies the resilience and excellence of Philadelphia’s real champions.
Winding through wooded hilltops with scenic views of the Schuylkill, the trail connects the Strawberry Mansion neighborhood to key historic sites such as Mount Pleasant, Ormiston, and Laurel Hill. It remains a space where history and community intersect, an enduring reminder that the greatness of this city was built by people of flesh and blood, not Hollywood illusions.
Each September, the Boxers’ Trail 5K Walk/Run honors this legacy, celebrating the fighters who once trained here and supporting local youth programs. In 2020, the Boxers’ Trail Gateway was unveiled, featuring a “shadow boxer” silhouette and informative panels on the careers of Briscoe, Frazier, Hopkins, and Saad Muhammad.
These efforts offer a counternarrative to the selective memory of the city, proving that while Philadelphia may try to rewrite its own history, the truth remains embedded in the very ground where champions once ran.
Now, I wonder what myths we’ve planned to celebrate for the Semiquincentennial.
Tayyib Smith is a cultural strategist, entrepreneur, advocate for arts-driven economic development in Philadelphia, and founding partner at the Growth Collective.