He grew up dirt poor in a
rural area of the
South.....Antioch, Tennessee
to be exact (the story goes
that his house had plastic
coverings for storm
windows), but his family was
a proud and hardworking one
with deep roots in boxing.
The kid's father had been a
professional fighter of note
and took pride when his son
took up the sport and became
a skilled and tough amateur
showing thoroughbred
instincts that only could be
tracked to a blood line.
Trained by his proud father,
the kid ran off 14 straight
pro wins including 11 ko's.
When he became one of the
first ESPN Boxing Champions,
his momentum began to take
on the aura of a "rags to
riches" story. I mean, hell,
this kid had something
special and perhaps was on
the verge of being world
ranked and maybe even ready
for a shot at the golden
ring. He reminded me of a
young Sean O' Grady.....I
even visualized him as
picking up the mantle from
Sean and running with it..
Then in June 1983, he was booked to
fight a journeyman brawler at
Madison Square Garden. It would be
on the under card of a high profile
fight and would be a big break for
him insofar as exposure was
concerned, but it would be a
difficult test, for his opponent had
fought much better competition.
When the bell rang, the kid, a
favorite, found himself being
surprisingly battered by his
supposedly light hitting opponent
All of a sudden, this kid was in a
fight for his life....a real-life
one. He complained to his corner
that the other guy was, “hitting me
with a brick.” Though he managed to
trade punch-for-punch for over 10
brutal rounds and was never knocked
down, he took a savage beating,
resulting in severe facial injuries
and horrifically swollen eyes. His
face looked like it had gone through
a meat grinder.
When the final bell rang, the local
club fighter favorite had "beaten "
the undefeated welterweight
sensation in the ten-round
preliminary fight. That he won was
not so much a surprise as was the
savage way in which he did it. The
fight was later ruled a “no contest”
when it was discovered that the
journeyman's gloves had been
tampered with by his trainer. The
gloves were impounded and were found
to be lacking 60% of the horsehair
padding usually found in gloves
which, in effect, made them have the
virtual impact of bare knuckles or
lethal weapons. Later, they would
both pay dearly for their actions.
But this story is not about them,
nor do they deserve any more
attention than is necessary.
The effect of the illegal mugging
would be a career-ending and fatal
one on the up-and- coming young
fighter out of Tennessee. The
injuries left him with permanent eye
damage and doctors informed him he
would eventually lose his sight. He
quickly fell to pieces and into
depression. He began drinking
heavily. Just months after this
"fight," he crashed his car and was
killed. He was found to be drunk at
the wheel and many have wondered
whether it was deliberate act of
suicide.
Lately I have been writing
about "great action fights"
I'd like to see in 2007,
young prospects, and
nostalgic pieces about great
fights or fighters from the
past. But every once and a
while, I need a reality
check about a sport which
has never been overly
meticulous or stringent in
its application of
professional scruples.
...and when I do, I always
recall the fate of a young
kid out of a rural area of
the South who showed so much
promise. A kid who made his
family proud, but whose
future was stripped away in
one brutal and unfair night
in the Garden.
His name was Billy Ray
Collins, Jr. (Irish Billy
Collins for short).
"Some day they're gonna
write a Blues for fighters.
It'll just be for slow
guitar, soft trumpet and a
bell." Sonny Liston
