Boxer Leavander Johnson died Thursday, five days after his loss to Jesus Chavez in their lightweight title fight at the MGM Grand. Photo by The Associated Press.

Legendary writer Budd Schulberg, who wrote the 1954 Academy Award-winning screenplay for "On the Waterfront," once said, "As much as I love boxing, I hate it. And as much as I hate it, I love it."

It's a little easier today to understand what Schulberg meant when he spoke those words. And it's hard not to hate boxing today.

The appeal of the sport is much like that of auto racing: It's life on the edge.

When I lived in Vermont in the 1980s, a small but extraordinarily popular regional stock-car racing circuit got a lot of attention.

A friend convinced me to go to the track and watch the races from the pit. I left with a headache and a feeling I'd never be back. On the way home, I asked my friend what attracted him to the races.

It was, he said gleefully and without hesitation, the wrecks.

Anybody who has ever gotten a speeding ticket and had to go to driving school can tell you what happens when cars traveling at high rates of speed collide.

That same appeal lures fans to boxing.

A championship fight is always like overtime of the seventh game of the Stanley Cup Finals. You never know when it might end.

Unfortunately for some, it's a permanent end. There have been eight ring deaths in Las Vegas and 10 in Nevada since 1900, according to the Journal of Combative Sport and Review-Journal research.

Six of those deaths have occurred in the past 10 years, when medical care is better, fighters are tested more comprehensively and the referees and cornermen are more aware of the risks.

Jimmy Garcia died after a May 6, 1995, fight with Gabe Ruelas.

Robert Wangila died after a July 26, 1995, match with David Gonzalez.

Johnny Montantes died after a Sept. 26, 1997, bout with James Crayton.

Pedro Alcazar died after a June 22, 2002, fight with Fernando Montiel.

Martin Sanchez died after a July 1 bout with Rustam Nugaev.

And on Thursday, Leavander Johnson died, five days after his lightweight title match with Jesus Chavez.

Garcia was 23, Wangila, Alcazar and Sanchez 26, Montantes 28 and Johnson 35.

Garcia was 35-5, Wangila 22-5, Montantes 28-4, Alcazar 25-1-1, Sanchez 13-9 and Johnson 34-5-2.

The only common thread: They were successful fighters who died prematurely.

I cried Thursday.

I cried because I had spoken to Leavander Johnson a week earlier, kidding with him at a news conference. I had never met him before, but we spoke for 10 minutes and laughed for eight that day.

I cried because I remembered Martin Sanchez, who would have fallen out of the ring after being knocked down had I not leaned over and stopped him.

These were two who died before their time, needlessly.

Should Bill Johnson, Leavander's father and trainer, have stopped the bout himself? Probably.

He said he warned his son after the eighth round that he might stop the bout but that his son told him he'd come back to win.

Johnson never had a hope of doing that, though, and his father should have recognized it.

It's too bad that Johnson didn't have former light heavyweight champion Eddie Mustafa Muhammad in his corner. Muhammad, now one of the game's best trainers, also heads the Joint Association of Boxers, a union trying to protect fighters.

Muhammad knows firsthand what risks fighters face and has never hesitated to throw in the towel.

"Every fighter -- every damn one of them -- goes into the ring knowing they may not walk out under their own power," Muhammad said. "I feel like if they hire me they're hiring me to protect them. I'm a former fighter. I spent my life in this business. I know what they're risking and I'm willing to take whatever criticism I get if I stop a fight.

"I don't care if the fans boo or (the media) bitch about it. At the end of the day, I want the guy to walk out of the ring and hug his kids."

Death will occur in boxing. It is, unfortunately, part of the sport, just like bloody noses.

But the fighters who are risking their lives for our enjoyment deserve the best care.

Whether the answer is stationing a doctor in the dressing-room area full time or trainers stopping fighters more quickly or more extensive medical testing or having a veteran referee outside the ring that the referee in the bout can consult with between rounds, something more needs to be done.

Just saying you're sorry is not good enough

Kevin Iole's boxing column is published Saturday. He can be reached at 396-4428 or at kiole@reviewjournal.com.