There are innumerable ways
to go after this subject but
mine will take a less
technical path, one that has
different directions coming
together in a way that
hopefully exposes my
visceral affection for this
very wonderful pastime.
Indeed, for me, boxing is
far more than a bout between
two combatants in a square
circle that is entered with
knowledge of deadly risk and
anticipation of high reward.
Boxing is an experience that
includes many different
things including the
wherewithal for passionate
arguments and the witnessing
of two men going mano a mano
with the hope, but no
guarantee, that the third
man in the ring knows when
the right time comes to save
one of them. And sometimes,
with tragic results, he
doesn't.
Boxing is a loser alone with
his thoughts in the dressing
room and a winner being hero
worshiped by fans as fickle
as the weather. It is defeat
or victory, nothing more,
nothing less, but the
difference can break a
spirit or generate
confidence.
For
some, it is a left hook to the liver
the genesis of which began in some
small town in Mexico. For others, a
sledgehammer straight right
originating out of Detroit. Or, in a
fight for redemption, a Swede's foot
twitching after he is knocked cold
by a leaping left hook coming out of
the Catskills. For me, it's
identifying with one of my
favorites, particularly an underdog,
as he overcomes adversity to snatch
surprising victory from certain and
anticipated defeat. When that
happens, its my victory as much as
it is his and I'm cheering for
myself as much as for him. I can't
say it any better than
that....that's the essence, the very
soul of this thing called boxing. At
that point, boxing and I become one
Boxing is also Big Jerry Cooney
catching Ken Norton is a corner and
pummeling him with frightening left
hooks, Ray Mercer catching Tommy
Morrison with brutal punches
rendering him senseless, Gatti
knocking out Gamache with left hook
from hell, and Oleg coming back from
three ko losses, but it's also slick
boxers named Pretty Boy, Sugar Ray
or Sugar Shane showing new and
higher levels of defense, foot work,
combinations, and hand speed. Boxing
is watching a Ward left hook to the
body end a fight at any time. It's
watching the "Kids".....Parret,
Meza, Gavilan, Akeem and the
"Rocks"......Durando, Graziano,
Marciano and Rahman. Or the
Irishmen, Cooney, Duddy, Quarry
Ward, and who can ever forget that
good looking kid out of Tennessee ,
Irish Billy Collins.
Boxing is all about Hearns vs Hagler
in savage and unmitigated action and
Castillo vs Corrales and Indian
Yaqui vs Saad in quintessential ebb
and flow.....it's steamy
Philadelphia gyms and the forum in
LA or some fair grounds in West
Virginia or Ohio. It's Don Dunphy
thrilling listeners to the "Gillette
Cavalcade of Sports," and it's both
Lennon's, Johnny Addi, Buffer, Ed
Derian (Ed Derian), Mercante,
Clancy, Cus, Manny, Dundee, Bimstein,
Goldstein, Futch and it's PAL, CYO,
and AAU. The sport is both tender
and brutal. Some find Jesus, others
find the devil. Boxing is watching a
"lonely" Larry Holmes in the middle
of the ring taking out a a popular
Cooney and a confused John Tate
running away from the late Trevor
Berbick..................boxing is
about a warrior mentality that
unmistakably demonstrates a
willingness to engage in a
punch-out.......a willingness to
take three to get in one, or a hard
and tough guy like Baldomir patting
his chest and waiving the other guy
in as he spits out blood while the
crowd rises and roars its approval
and chills go down your spine.
Boxing is the sum and substance of
indelible memories and for those
blessed with good recall, it is
something to manifest with emotion,
passion and conviction.
Look, I've been there and
have seen up close the
unpredictable excitement
that was Bob Satterfield,
Rex Layne and Johnny Bratton
in the 50's, the classics
between Marciano-Charles-Louis-
Walcott. The emergence of
Chuck Davey and Chico Vejar.
I saw LaMotta-Robinson, Ward
vs
Gatti-Green-Augustus-Diaz-Neary,
Zale-Graziano, tough, ethnic
guys from the 50's like
Fusari, Demarco, Durando,
Basilio, Giardello, Giambra,
Janiro and Miceli. Who can
forget Gene "Silent"
Hairston on Gillette's
Friday night fights? Ali-Fraizer,
Patterson-Johansson,
Barrera-Morales.
I was dumfounded by the illogic of
Hearns putting Duran away with a
thunderous straight right, and then
Duran beating Barkley who then
knocked out Hearns. I watched in
disbelief as Martin starched Liston,
Bruce Curry and Monroe Brooks went
to the very edge and let it all hang
out, and McClellan and Benn fought
with uncommon fury and ferocity. I
saw Shavers come back from certain
defeat to beat a fearsome Roy
"Tiger" Williams in a fight that had
to be seen to be believed. Oh, I saw
Paret take 17 unanswered shots, and
Roach, Kim, Enrico Bertola, Johnny
Owens, Jimmy Garcia, Willie Classen,
Stephan Johnson, Bobby Tomasello,
Beethoven Scottland, Leavander
Johnson and too may others leave
their lives in the ring. I witnessed
the sudden fury of Meza-Garza; the
shoot outs between
Letterlough-Gonsalez, Moorer-Cooper
and Lyle-Foreman; the big boppers,
Cobb-Shavers-Norton, at the end of
their careers. I've seen the smashed
noses, ridges of scar tissue and
deformed ears. I witnessed the slow
slide of Jerry and Mike Quarry,
Jimmy Ellis, Bobby Chacon, Jimmy
Young and far too many others. I can
easily detect the early
signs......the slurring of
speech......the nasal
monotone....the shuffling.
No, we
don't much want to talk about
Pugilistica Dementia but constant
reminders are always there and
that's the dark side, the other,
horribly irreversible side of the
risk-reward equation. And most
boxers are leery of this darker side
as well they should be, for this is
the one that can lead to that
dreaded place called Palookaville
from which there is no return.
Hey, I witnessed the epiphany of
Foreman and the "what if," and
terrible disappointment that was
Tyson. I've seen it all and have
been dazzled by the magic, felt the
emotional highs, heard the music and
seen the dance. I pray for Michael
Watson, Willie Pep, Jimmy Ellis,
Gerald McClellan and Greg Page and
remember the courage of Robert
Wangila and Pedro Alcazar. I have
seen very good things, some not so
good, and some downright horiffic.
I've talked to humble and decent
guys like Saad, Haugen, Scully,
Ward, Cuevas, Tapia, Laporte, Galaxy
and Chuvalo and have been snubbed by
others.....but not many others, for
most boxers are uncommon in their
decency, respect and humility and
that too is part of the mix.
Boxing for me is also a sensual
confluence......of sweat, fear,
testosterone, perfume, cigar smoke,
stale beer, cheap after-shave
lotion....it is a the sweet smell of
success and sour odor of failure.
Greasy and heavily mustard hot dogs,
cheese steak hoagies, onions,
roasted peppers with oil seeping
through brown paper bags, and
buttered popcorn. Warm beer at the
Blue Horizon and frothy mixed drinks
and expensive after shave lotion at
the MGM in Las Vegas or at Foxwoods.
Boxing is cheering, taunting,
chanting, whistling, screaming, and
clapping......and leering at
scantily clad card girls against a
backdrop of the periodic screams of
winners at a Black Jack table or the
mindless and never ending sound of
slot machines simultaneously
providing hope and presenting odds
that prevent that hope from ever
being fulfilled. The ambience
includes pretty blondes, voluptuous
Latinos and beautiful black women
dressed to the nines; guys with
chains worth the price of a new car
and clothes and hair styles to
match. Vanity, conceit, egotism are
words that come to mind as one looks
over the occupants of the ringside
seats, but why not? Narcissism is an
essential part of this mix as well.
There is no political correctness
here or "right" way to behave and
that is another great thing about
boxing. You either love it or hate
it, but if you hate it, you had best
tread with caution here. Boxing
try's to be color blind, but those
behind the scenes use issues of
color and ethnicity to generate more
cash. It's never about hate; it's
always about cash....it is what it
is....and in this regard should not
be taken as seriously as it is. The
"Russians Have Arrived," will likely
be replaced by something else, maybe
'The Cubans Are Coming" or the
"Americans are Back" or "Here Comes
the British," but that's just the
way it is and it won't change any
time soon.
Boxing is camaraderie with macho
banter and, at times,
not-so-friendly betting. It is
drinks and maybe a great steak after
the fight, or perhaps a hotel room
with TV, friends, champaign, shrimp
cocktails, maybe some poker,
expensive cigars, all the right
ingredients for another entry into
your memory bank. Sure, the fight is
the linchpin, but the entire
experience is often just as much
fun...it all goes together and
blends in the mix. And the mix is
the essence.
Boxing has a love affair with the
world: from Japan to the UK, Germany
to Australia, Canada to the
countries from the former Soviet
Union, and everywhere in between.
Most of all, boxing is a safe place
for me to be without having to worry
about how I behave or what I say.
Boxing thankfully is not a meeting
of the Rotary and it certainly does
not shackle me with corporate
handcuffs. There is no phoney
artifice, no plastic smiles or soft
and clammy hand shakes; Boxing is a
genuine, if sometimes harsh place
which has never been overly
meticulous or stringent in its
application of professional
scruples. But hell, boxing is my
sanctuary and I love it so.
"It is wonderful. It truly is. It is
the only thing that is real! It's
you against me, it's challenging
another guy's manhood. With gloves.
Words cannot describe that feeling -
of being a man, of being a
gladiator, of being a warrior. It's
irreplaceable." - Sugar Ray Leonard
"Boxing survives – and always will
-- because its values are as old
school as black-‘n’-white trunks:
character and pain -- as heroic as a
man taking care of his family – just
not too sexy." Joe Rein
