Any and all descriptions implying greatness can be applied to the man born Walker Smith in Detroit on May 3, 1921, but the one appellation that stuck was first uttered by writer Jack Case, who, while witnessing for the first time a young lanky boxer fighting for the Salem Crescent gym in New York, remarked to the manager of the team, George Gainford, "That's a sweet fighter you've got there." "Sweet as Sugar," replied Gainford for posterity. And so it was that "Sugar" Ray Robinson was born.
   Robinson came by the other part of his name honestly. Or somewhat honestly. For back in those days when the bootleg circuit-unlicensed fights held in small clubs-held sway, the youngster originally went by his given name, Walker Smith, "Smitty" to his friends. One night "Smitty" borrowed the amateur card of a friend named Ray Robinson and became, from that night on, the man who would go on as Ray Robinson to become "The Greatest Fighter, Pound-for-Pound, in the History of Boxing."
   No single label for Robinson is adequate. He was boxing's version of Rashomon; everyone saw something different: He could deliver a knockout blow going backward; he was seamless, with no fault lines; his left hand, held always at the ready, was purity in motion; his footwork was superior to any that had been seen in boxing up to that time; his hand speed and leverage were unmatchable; and on and on. There was an altered chemistry to Ray Robinson. He was magic; he was Hemingway's "Grace under pressure."