kikibalt wrote:Ricardo Mayorga sues Don king
By Edgar Gonzalez
By Christopher Norton of Law360, recently reported — The former welterweight champion boxer Ricardo Mayorga has socked sports promotion and management firms owned by Don King and son Carl King with a suit, alleging the companies have held Mayorga hostage to an unenforceable promotional agreement in violation of the Muhammad Ali Boxing Reform Act.
The complaint, filed in the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of Florida on Tuesday, claims Don King Productions Inc., Carl King and his company Monarch Sports Management Inc. created a conflict of interest through DKP’s assignment of Carl King and MSM to be Mayorga’s managers in violation of the act, which requires a firewall between managers and promoters.
DKP took advantage of Mayorga’s lack of education and representation by an attorney loyal to DKP, forcing him to sign several disadvantageous agreements, the complaint says. DKP has failed to meet the most basic conditions of the current promotional agreement to make a bona fide offer to participate in three fights per year, the complaint says.
The promotional agreement in suit is the third such contract Mayorga and DKP have entered into, none of which have ever given Mayorga the number of matches he is entitled to, attorney for Mayorga Chad Purdie said Wednesday.
“Don King has one obligation only, and that’s to provide three boxing matches a year,” Purdie said. “And he didn’t even do that.”
As a result, Mayorga has been left destitute by the “gross breach of trust” committed by the very people that were supposed to look after his interests, and seeks to “be free from the shackles of an unscrupulous team of swindlers,” the complaint says.
“He’s not allowed to contract with anyone else because they’re afraid of tortious interference, they’re afraid of Don King,” Purdie said. “Even if it wasn’t the big bad Don King, they would be forcing Mr. Mayorga to break his contract.”
King told Law360 on Wednesday, “I love Ricardo Mayorga, but you have to understand this is how he is.”
The Nicaraguan-born Mayorga, who has been known to appear at post-fight conferences with a cigarette and a beer in hand, was the World Boxing Association and World Boxing Council welterweight champion from 2002 to 2003 and was later the junior middleweight champion.
During his amateur years he won the Nicaraguan National Championship and was the Central American Golden Gloves champion, according to the complaint.
Mayorga and DKP entered into the current promotional agreement in June 2008 for a term of three years, under which DKP was required to offer Mayorga the right to participate in at least three fights per year, the complaint says. DKP has only offered one fight to Mayorga since the start of the agreement, according to the complaint.
The purse for the first bout under the contract was set at a minimum of $400,000, while any future purses would be set at a minimum of $50,000 if Mayorga lost the first bout or any subsequent bouts, the complaint says.
No one explained to Mayorga any of the remedies he was relinquishing, the notice to cure provision or the ad hoc limitations period under the contract, nor did they state what he would be earning per bout if he lost the first fight, the complaint says.
Mayorga is seeking damages plus interest, costs and attorneys’ fees, according to the complaint.
Mayorga is represented by Diaz Reus LLP.
Counsel information for the defendants was not immediately available.
The case is Mayorga v. Don King Productions Inc. et al., case number 1:09-cv-22603, in the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of Florida.
I'm sure Tom could enlighten us,but I don't think Mayorga has a case.
I don't know much about the Muhammad Ali Boxing Reform Act of 2000, except that it does have provisions regulating promotional contracts. Even if I knew more about the Act, I doubt I could tell from one newspaper article whether Mayorga "has a case" against King.
That said, Mayorga's legal counsel is Diaz Reus LLP, a fairly large International Law Firm with good credentials. I'm pretty sure a firm of that kind would have investigated the law suit before filing it. They do not appear to be the proverbial "ambulance chasers" of the ilk described by John Grisham in The Rainmaker (i.e. attorney Bruiser Stone and his paralegal Deck Shifflet).
kikibalt wrote:Ricardo Mayorga sues Don king
By Edgar Gonzalez
By Christopher Norton of Law360, recently reported — The former welterweight champion boxer Ricardo Mayorga has socked sports promotion and management firms owned by Don King and son Carl King with a suit, alleging the companies have held Mayorga hostage to an unenforceable promotional agreement in violation of the Muhammad Ali Boxing Reform Act.
The complaint, filed in the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of Florida on Tuesday, claims Don King Productions Inc., Carl King and his company Monarch Sports Management Inc. created a conflict of interest through DKP’s assignment of Carl King and MSM to be Mayorga’s managers in violation of the act, which requires a firewall between managers and promoters.
DKP took advantage of Mayorga’s lack of education and representation by an attorney loyal to DKP, forcing him to sign several disadvantageous agreements, the complaint says. DKP has failed to meet the most basic conditions of the current promotional agreement to make a bona fide offer to participate in three fights per year, the complaint says.
The promotional agreement in suit is the third such contract Mayorga and DKP have entered into, none of which have ever given Mayorga the number of matches he is entitled to, attorney for Mayorga Chad Purdie said Wednesday.
“Don King has one obligation only, and that’s to provide three boxing matches a year,” Purdie said. “And he didn’t even do that.”
As a result, Mayorga has been left destitute by the “gross breach of trust” committed by the very people that were supposed to look after his interests, and seeks to “be free from the shackles of an unscrupulous team of swindlers,” the complaint says.
“He’s not allowed to contract with anyone else because they’re afraid of tortious interference, they’re afraid of Don King,” Purdie said. “Even if it wasn’t the big bad Don King, they would be forcing Mr. Mayorga to break his contract.”
King told Law360 on Wednesday, “I love Ricardo Mayorga, but you have to understand this is how he is.”
The Nicaraguan-born Mayorga, who has been known to appear at post-fight conferences with a cigarette and a beer in hand, was the World Boxing Association and World Boxing Council welterweight champion from 2002 to 2003 and was later the junior middleweight champion.
During his amateur years he won the Nicaraguan National Championship and was the Central American Golden Gloves champion, according to the complaint.
Mayorga and DKP entered into the current promotional agreement in June 2008 for a term of three years, under which DKP was required to offer Mayorga the right to participate in at least three fights per year, the complaint says. DKP has only offered one fight to Mayorga since the start of the agreement, according to the complaint.
The purse for the first bout under the contract was set at a minimum of $400,000, while any future purses would be set at a minimum of $50,000 if Mayorga lost the first bout or any subsequent bouts, the complaint says.
No one explained to Mayorga any of the remedies he was relinquishing, the notice to cure provision or the ad hoc limitations period under the contract, nor did they state what he would be earning per bout if he lost the first fight, the complaint says.
Mayorga is seeking damages plus interest, costs and attorneys’ fees, according to the complaint.
Mayorga is represented by Diaz Reus LLP.
Counsel information for the defendants was not immediately available.
The case is Mayorga v. Don King Productions Inc. et al., case number 1:09-cv-22603, in the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of Florida.
I'm sure Tom could enlighten us,but I don't think Mayorga has a case.
I don't know much about the Muhammad Ali Boxing Reform Act of 2000, except that it does have provisions regulating promotional contracts. Even if I knew more about the Act, I doubt I could tell from one newspaper article whether Mayorga "has a case" against King.
That said, Mayorga's legal counsel is Diaz Reus LLP, a fairly large International Law Firm with good credentials. I'm pretty sure a firm of that kind would have investigated the law suit before filing it. They do not appear to be the proverbial "ambulance chasers" of the ilk described by John Grisham in The Rainmaker (i.e. attorney Bruiser Stone and his paralegal Deck Shifflet).
I'm driving up to the WBHOF GOLF TOURANAMENT in an hour,but I'm lucky that I'll be stepping into the car. You see there was this little disturbance next to my place last night and trying to be a good samaritan almost cost me my life.
I live in a pretty quiet condo complex up the hill from Sea World I thought until last night. If you're familiar with San Diego and the Bay Park neighborhood ,you could do a lot worse.That's where my place is. The buildings are recessed below the street and our unit faces the canyon that has a pretty nice view of East County.
It must have been around 1 in the morning when I hear these noises. Sounds like two dudes having it out in the street above our complex. The usual screamin' and yellin' and threatenin'. I'm not concerned anyway . Let the better drunk win in my book. Then I hear a female voice.
"Please ,someone help her."
I jump out of the sack and try to see what's going on out side the screen covering the bedroom window. I look down to the right and see that the disturbance is next to my unit! I dial 911 and fill the operator in on the details,but I feel the need to step in. Can't let this guy kill her. I grab my .38 I have in the drawer next to the bed and run downstairs. I figure I want an advantage if he's got something with him.
Just as I reach the bottom of the stairs I see this BMW burn rubber out of the driveway. There's a woman and an older guy standing over this gal in a bath robe.She's sprawled out on the pavement. The gal is moaniing ,but I don't see a mark on her nor any blood. Just then the parameduics arrive and take over her predicament. They asked her some questions about what happened. All she moans is that she was locked in the car and her boyfriend was pulling her out. Doesn't make sense.
About 15 minutes pass and I still don't see any cop cars. Then I hear sirens. And I see the lights. Here comes six cop cars buzzing down into the complex chasing the dude in the BMW. They're going around and around like the Indy 500. I'm thinking there's going to be an awful collision. I duck into the car port where the BMW was and think I'm out of harm's way. I see the BMW turn the corner and realize he's starting to turn into the car port. I don't have enough time to get out of there and see him coming right at me. The paramedics are screaming for me to get out of the way.I figure I'm going to need them in a matter of seconds.
Well fellas' I want to tell ya',when you see the light you can do remarkable things. Remember Yakima Canutt? The famous stunt man John Ford used in his westerns. Remember the scene in Stage Coach when Yakima Canutt leaped on the runaway stage coach? Well when this psycho was about to smash me against the back of the car port I leaped over the hood of the BMW and landed on top of the car. The BMW comes to a screaching halt with me on top of the car like a dead deer. But I wasn't dead. Shook up yes,and maxed out on adrenelin. The cops help pull me off the car while they've got this nut case in their cross hairs.
I could tell you what happened with the guy and the gal,but it gets real boring after that. Oh,they arrested the guy and put him in restraints. The gal they took to the hospital. Turns out she was drunker than her boyfriend.
Me?All I know is that I hope to sell a couple of paintings this evening and remember to take plenty of Motrin for my sore back.
Last edited by dagosd2000 on 04 Sep 2009, 17:07, edited 1 time in total.
kikibalt wrote:Roger, I MIGHT be down your way tomorrow (Sat.)
That sounds great pal. Let me know on the cell phone. My sisters are putting out a spread in the afternoon. You and Connie are invited. If not, maybe we can get together. Rog
The sordid details of the Jim Norris-Frankie Carbo alliance that ruled boxing for a decade were verified in Washington
Gilbert Rogin
When James D. Norris, wearing a somber tan and a funeral suit, came last week to Room 318 of the old Senate Office Building in Washington, where Senator Kefauver's Subcommittee on Antitrust and Monopoly was conducting hearings on professional boxing, he walked with the reluctant step of a man approaching the gallows. Indeed, the jig was up. In Room 318, once the floodlit forum of the Army-McCarthy hearings, a noose of testimony had been drawn by Truman K. Gibson Jr., Norris' associate in the International Boxing Club, and Hymie (The Mink) Wallman, one of the most prominent managers of the '50s, which certified and reinforced in damning detail what had been known for years: that practically every significant boxing match in the U.S. during the last decade had been controlled, to their mutual benefit, by IBC President Norris and his convincer and expediter, Hoodlum Frankie Carbo. As Jack (Doc) Kearns, manager of Archie Moore, had said: "Norris and Carbo run everything in boxing, and when they feel like it, they throw you a bone every once in a while."
With bemused candor, Gibson, who has the sincerity of a used-car dealer and the aplomb of one of those out-of-focus gents in a perfume ad, had testified that the IBC knowingly dealt with managers and promoters who were either very close to or controlled by Carbo. The distinction was Gibson's. The list included almost every promoter of note and a formidable majority of the successful managers: such men as Lou Viscusi, manager of Lightweight Champion Joe Brown; Willie (The Undertaker) Ketchum, manager of Featherweight Champion Davey Moore; and John DeJohn and Joe Netro, co-managers of Carmen Basilio.
Gibson's rather flimsy excuse was that the IBC was "confronted with the facts of life" and that it decided "to live with Carbo" to "maintain a free flow of fighters without interference."
It developed, however, that the IBC was not only blandly willing to accept Carbo, who has been arrested five times for murder and is now serving a sentence for undercover managing and matchmaking in New York; it went out of its way to court his favor. A subsidiary of the IBC employed, on Norris' request, one Viola Masters, or Mrs. Frankie Carbo, to the tune of some $45,000 over a three-year period. This was to obtain her husband's "good will" and, as Gibson testified, "for the effect that it would have on the fighters and managers with whom he was friendly."
Jack Bonomi, the exceedingly able subcommittee special counsel, asked Gibson why Mrs. Carbo was hired instead of Frankie. "Because," Gibson glumly replied, "it looked...better on our record, not even considering the possibility of being called before a Senate investigating committee, to have Viola Masters down instead of Frank Carbo." Wallman, who told the subcommittee that he had known Carbo "for about 38 years," or since he was known as Jimmy the Wop (Senator Kefauver: "Spell that." Mr. Wallman: "W-o-p."), was even more thorough in describing how Carbo and Norris colluded to control boxing.
Wallman, an aggrieved 59-year-old furrier with a wistful lack of memory who, after two days of testimony, begged the subcommittee to let him go home because he had run out of suits, shirts and underwear ("laughter"), testified that he bought the contract of former welterweight champion Johnny Bratton following a conference with Norris, Carbo and Gibson, the money being loaned by the IBC. He testified, too, that Billy Brown, who was the IBC matchmaker in Madison Square Garden from 1952 to '58, was a Carbo man and that almost all of the IBC fights in New York were arranged by Carbo "through his matchmaker"; and also that if Carbo told the IBC or Norris that he didn't want Hymie to get a fight Wallman's chances of obtaining one would be "zero."
Particularly revealing was Carbo's role in the Orlando Zulueta-Joe Brown lightweight title fight several years back. Hymie managed Zulueta, and he asked Lou Viscusi, Brown's manager, if he would agree to a fight. Viscusi said he would if he could get a promoter "with plenty of money." Wallman sought out Joe Dupler, a Denver promoter, who said he would take the match. Wallman then consulted Carbo. Carbo told him: "The furrier [Dupler] wants the fight; I want $5,000 for the fight." Dupler instructed Wallman to withdraw $5,000 from a New York account of Dupler's and give it to Tex Pelte, the bagman. Carbo subsequently told Wallman that Pelte had given him the $5,000. Before the fight, Carbo told Wallman: "I never bothered you until now but if the kid [Zulueta] wins the championship... Lou Viscusi gets a piece of the fighter."
There was also sworn testimony, included as an exhibit, that Wallman informed Carbo, for betting purposes, whenever Wallman "had a judge or referee who would favor your fighter...."
An intriguing and revelatory bit of testimony concerned a meeting on Feb. 10, 1958 at Wallman's home in New York. In attendance were Carbo, Denver Matchmaker Jimmy White, Billy Brown and Jim Norris. Wallman described the meeting:
"We sat down and we had one or two drinks, and they started in... They started talking about Logart [Isaac, who was to fight Virgil Akins in an elimination tournament to determine a new welterweight champion]. With that Jimmy White opened up his mouth and he says, '...He [Logart's manager] promised me to take the fight to Denver.' Norris, on the other hand, said, 'No, we need the match.'... Carbo, on the other hand, started to argue with Norris, 'Well, let them go wherever they can get more money.' So Norris says to him, 'No, we need the match in here....' Then Jimmy [White] got sore and walked out.... The discussion came about where they wanted to eliminate Martinez altogether [Vince, a welterweight, who was also in the elimination tournament with Logart and Akins]. He [ Carbo] says...'I don't like the fighter Martinez.... All I have to do is pull out Akins and you ain't even got a match....' So Norris [says], 'What is going on here?...' So Carbo [says], 'Now, look, I am telling you right now, unless Logart fights Akins there will be no match altogether. Akins will go out. I'm pulling him out....' "
What Jim faced
This then, in substance, was the testimony which confronted Norris when he appeared before the subcommittee. Because he has a delicate heart (he has had two strokes), Norris was permitted to testify in executive, or closed, session. It was of little comfort, however, for no longer could he hide behind the perjured testimony he had given the New York State Athletic Commission in May 1955:
"Q. 'Have you ever discussed with Mr. Carbo fights or fighters?'
"A. 'No.' "
Norris is not subject to prosecution for perjury because of the statute of limitations, but last week, in response to Bonomi's vigorous questioning, Norris grudgingly admitted that his 1955 testimony "isn't 100% true.... I have to admit that."
To which Senator Kefauver acidly added: "It sounds to me like it is 100% untrue...."
Norris admitted, too, that, "I believe I mentioned to Frank Carbo that possibly he might have some suggestions as to how some of these problems [in boxing] might be eased for my organization [the IBC]"; that Carbo's relationship was "a reluctant one that in some ways I sought out to develop"; and, most significantly, that Al Weill, Rocky Marciano's manager, who was the matchmaker in New York before Billy Brown, was "very friendly" with Frankie Carbo; and that Marciano did not fight Harry Matthews in 1952 until Carbo told Weill to.
On the second day of Norris' testimony he admitted that Carbo acted as the "convincer" in lining up Jake LaMotta, Carmen Basilio, Willie Pep and Tony DeMarco, for IBC matches; that he had seen Carbo when he was a fugitive from justice; and that the IBC may well have paid travel expenses for various state commissioners to attend IBC fights, including Julius Helfand, currently a member of the New York boxing commission, and formerly its chairman.
Whose fighter?
Another matter which Bonomi questioned Norris about was Norris' well-publicized statement that the heavyweight Sonny Liston was his fighter. Norris explained that Liston was his fighter in the sense that he was pushing, building up Liston as his candidate for the title. But after Norris bad finished, New York City Detective Anthony Bernhardt, who was an undercover man with the fight mob, recounted that in March of 1958 he overheard Carbo saying to Blinky Palermo, apparently concerning Liston: "... Jim Norris comes in with some guys, and Jim was upset. He says to me, 'Listen, he's my fighter.' "
Liston was brought up, too, in the course of interrogating two witnesses, both of whom took the Fifth Amendment: Frank Mitchell, who runs a Negro weekly in St. Louis, who has 26 arrests (no convictions other than speeding), and who trembled with incipient tears as, almost inaudibly, he recited the catechism of the Fifth; and John Vitale, identified as St. Louis' top hoodlum, who has 58 arrests, three convictions. Lieutenant Joseph A. Kuda of the St. Louis Police Department testified that Liston was divided up as follows: Vitale, 12%; Blinky Palermo, 12%; two others, unidentified, 12% each; Carbo, 52%. He said, furthermore, that Palermo, who managed former welterweight champion Johnny Saxton, is the custodian of Carbo's share while Frank is in the can and that Mitchell, who is Vitale's front, will become Liston's manager if he becomes champion. Liston's manager of record is one Joe (Pep) Barone.
As an interim epitaph to the investigation, which continued this week, listen to Carmen Basilio: "I was a fighter and I know the pains and labors that a fighter goes through, and those guys [ Carbo, et al.] were making money that they were not earning and did not deserve. There are ladies present here and in all respect to them I have to contain my inner feelings but I just do not have any respect for those fellows and they do not belong in boxing. The quicker we get those fellows out, the better it is going to be for the sport."
"That doesn't look like Jerry Quarry,"said the woman holding the can of beer.
"And the same with this one," said her husband. "That doesn't look like him either."
The husband was peering at my rendition of Rocky Marciano
The couple was looking at my paintings of the fighters I had brought to the World Boxing Hall Of Fame Golf Touranament.
I was sitting at a table with my wife just to the side of where I had set up my display of four paintings that were for sale. There was a Jerry Quarry. A Rocky Marciano. Joe Louis that will be for my advertisement in the Hall OF Fame program. As an addition ,I brought my image of Marilyn Monroe.
Art is very subjective to the eye. I'm used to criticism now. In the beginning I wasn't. Today it doesn't bother me. In fact,in a way, it justifies something inside of me about people.
The turnout at the event was so so. At least it seemed that way to me. Armando Muniz came over to where we me and my wife,Maria,were sitting. I told him that I was explaining to my wife how he was robbed against Mantequilla Napoles. Armando has probably given his take on that event thousands of times. I'm sure he's a little exhausted expliaining it. His take is the truth. We know that,but he seemed very passionate telling his story to my wife. He spoke to her in Spanish.
Gato Gonzalez saw us. His soul mate Barb joined us for a picture taken by Armando. As always Gato is very interested talking to us about Michoacan. I really believe he wants to go back to that area. He has many friends there. That's where he started his career.
Danny Lopez stopped by to say said hello. I asked him if he ever got my painting I did of him. He smiled.
"Oh yes. It's hanging above the fireplace."
He wanted me to take a picture of him standing by Maria.
Bobby Chacon saw us. He was with someone else who looked like he was trying to get away from the ex fighter. Bobby told us a joke. The guy walking away from Bobby seemed annoyed .
"He used to be a fighter. Now he's a comedian."
I didn't sell anything. A few people took some of my business cards.
Me and Maria left early. I had a good time. I wished I could have sold a painting. As I was driving back I felt good that Danny Lopez had his painting hanging above the fireplace. I had wondered if he liked it or not.
Drove south this morning (7:AM) to Otay Ranch with my son James, his girlfriend Ronnie and Connie, James bought a Chevy pick-up from some lady down there and we went to pick it up and drive it back home, we got back into La Puente at 12:30 PM, nice drive, but to fast of a turn around...
kikibalt wrote:Drove south this morning (7:AM) to Otay Ranch with my son James, his girlfriend Ronnie and Connie, James bought a Chevy pick-up from some lady down there and we went to pick it up and drive it back home, we got back into La Puente at 12:30 PM, nice drive, but to fast of a turn around...
Frank
Should have called me. Maria made flautas for lunch.
kikibalt wrote:Drove south this morning (7:AM) to Otay Ranch with my son James, his girlfriend Ronnie and Connie, James bought a Chevy pick-up from some lady down there and we went to pick it up and drive it back home, we got back into La Puente at 12:30 PM, nice drive, but to fast of a turn around...
Frank
Should have called me. Maria made flautas for lunch.
Roger, We didn't have time to hang around, had to come home right away, maybe next time, thanks anyway... . Btw, what are flautas?...
kikibalt wrote:Drove south this morning (7:AM) to Otay Ranch with my son James, his girlfriend Ronnie and Connie, James bought a Chevy pick-up from some lady down there and we went to pick it up and drive it back home, we got back into La Puente at 12:30 PM, nice drive, but to fast of a turn around...
Frank
Should have called me. Maria made flautas for lunch.
Roger, We didn't have time to hang around, had to come home right away, maybe next time, thanks anyway... . Btw, what are flautas?...
Frank
You've probably eaten them. They're crisp tacitos with a thin crust hot out of the frying pan. Maria likes to make them with chicken.
Charlie Pasarell has strong memories of Pancho Gonzalez[b/]
Pancho Gonzalez won his second consecutive U.S. Open title 60 years ago. (Hulton Deutsch / Allsport / January 1, 1968)
Their epic Wimbledon match in 1969 was painful for Pasarell, but Gonzalez, honored posthumously Saturday in New York on the 60th anniversary of his second straight U.S. title, was his hero.
By Bill Dwyre
September 6, 2009
Had he lived to enjoy his on-court honor Saturday night at the U.S. Open Tennis tournament, Pancho Gonzalez would have been 81 years old.
Had he lived, he probably would have asked for a spot in the draw.
Such was the nature of this feisty character, a legend of the sport, who was born and raised in Los Angeles, won consecutive U.S. Tennis Championships in 1948 and '49, retired for two years in 1951, and then came back and played on with great success through the mid-1970s.
His on-court rivals ranged from Jack Kramer to Jimmy Connors. Talk about spanning eras. Ranking systems were unpredictable in those days, but by most accounts, Gonzalez was No. 1 in the world for seven years.
Pulitzer prize-winning sports columnist Dave Anderson wrote that Gonzalez was "the best tennis player not enough people saw." One of his toughest on-court rivals, the late Ted Schroeder, called him "the most unhappy man I ever met."
At Saturday's ceremony, which will commemorate the 60th anniversary of that second-straight U.S. title, one participant will have special memories of Gonzalez, special insight into what made him tick -- and often explode.
Charlie Pasarell was a rising star, the pride of Puerto Rico and UCLA, on that summer day at Wimbledon in 1969. Across the net from him would be Gonzalez, his hero.
"He was my idol," Pasarell says. "But that day, he was my enemy."
Little did Pasarell know that, that day, and the next, he would become part of the Gonzalez legend; a painful part, to be sure, but one that has become, over the years, wondrous nostalgia.
What transpired was a 5-hour 12-minute marathon that remains one of the oft-mentioned tennis classics. Gonzalez, 41, beat Pasarell, 25, by the incredible score of 22-24, 1-6, 16-14, 6-3, 11-9.
It was the first time they had ever played in an official match but not the first time they had played.
"When I got to UCLA," recalls Pasarell, who shared the No. 1 spot for much of his collegiate career with Arthur Ashe, "Pancho was around a lot, at the L.A. Tennis Club, at the courts at Beverly Hills. We would hit with him. We would constantly be peppering him with a thousand questions. I remember him saying, 'OK, today, only five questions.' "
Still, requests for head-to-head matches were unusual, so Pasarell was caught a bit off guard when he got a call one day from Gonzalez.
"He said, 'Kid, L.A. Tennis Club. 1 o'clock,' " Pasarell says. "I told him I had a class at noon, that I'd probably be late. He said, 'L.A. Tennis Club, 1 o'clock.' "
Pasarell, understanding that you don't turn down a chance to play Pancho Gonzalez, left class early, still was late, but was told by Gonzalez to go and change and get two cans of balls from the pro shop.
"Tell them the loser will pay for the balls," Gonzalez told Pasarell.
Pasarell says they played, Gonzalez yanked him all over the court and was leading, one set and 5-2, when he stopped.
"He told me we needed to work on my backhand volley, "Pasarell says. "So, for 10 minutes, he drills with me. . . . Keep the wrist firm. Punch it more.
"They he says we should finish. I hold serve, break his serve, hold again and pretty soon he is grumbling and yelling at himself for losing his focus. I win the set, he explodes, grabs the tennis balls and hits all six of them out onto Wilcox Avenue, never to be found again. Then he stomps off, gets into that Shelby GT Mustang he drove, and fires it up -- Vroom, Vroom -- and he is gone.
"I just stood there for a while, and then decided I better go pay for the tennis balls."
Pasarell says that, among the many questions he asked Gonzalez was how he prepared for a big match.
"He always said he'd go somewhere where he could be alone, even if it meant locking himself in a bathroom stall," Pasarell says. "He said he would visualize walking out, visualize the coin toss, warming up, what he would do on the first break point."
So just before he took the court for the early round match in 1969 to play Gonzalez -- "I'm about to go onto the greatest stage in the sport, Center Court at Wimbledon -- Pasarell locked himself in a bathroom stall and plotted strategy.
"I was going to make him hit a lot of balls," Pasarell says. "He didn't like half volleys (balls that bounce before you hit them), so I decided to dink lots of returns and then lob him. I was determined that he would hit 1,000 overheads."
It worked. Pasarell finally won the first set, 24-22, and then Gonzalez started grousing about it getting too dark to play.
"I decided to change strategy then," Pasarell says. "I started driving returns, hitting the ball by him. I knew that would annoy him, and it did."
But Pasarell says that, by then, Gonzalez had intimidated the chair umpire so much that he called play for the day.
"They played on for 45 minutes on some of the other outside courts," Pasarell says.
Pasarell also says he didn't care.
"I was up two sets," he says. "He had no chance, zero, not one in a million."
The next day, Gonzalez proved him dead wrong.
He won the next three sets and survived seven match points in the process.
"One of them was a questionable call," Pasarell says, "and on another one, I hit a shot to him at the net that he had to lunge for and he somehow managed to just reach it and tap it over before the racket came out of his hand. All I had to do is tap it back over, because he was on the ground, and the racket was out of his hand, but the ball just cleared the net and bounced back into it on my side."
When it was over, Pasarell was devastated.
"I went to the locker room, found a corner, put my head in my hands and just broke down," he says. "Pancho came along, grabbed a towel, put it over my head and said, 'I got lucky, kid.' "
They never talked about it again. Never kidded, analyzed, chatted it up over beers with the guys. It was something they had shared and it was over.
Pasarell is now the president the BNP Paribas Open in Indian Wells. For years, until Gonzalez's death in 1995, Pasarell would bring him to the event, have him do clinics and pay him for his appearances.
Gonzalez died during the second week of Wimbledon. Pasarell left England to attend the funeral in Las Vegas, which was attended by only three of Gonzalez's tennis contemporaries -- Pasarell, his business partner in the Indian Wells tournament, Ray Moore, and Rod Laver.
When Gonzalez died, with little money left, he had been married and divorced six times, the final time to Andre Agassi's sister, Rita. Agassi paid for the funeral.
Pasarell deserved to be among other family and friends on the court of honor Saturday night. Gonzalez owed him that, as well as a couple of cans of tennis balls.
telboy66 wrote:I have a question if anyone knows whether Charlie was tennis coach at caesars place in the early 80s
I think you are confusing him with Gonzalez, who was the tennis coach at Caesar's from the mid-1970s to his death in 1995. I don't think Pasarell ever coached at Caesar's. He's a commentator on the Tennis Channel now.
Last night's birthday part for my great grandson Christian.Peter Piper Pizza. Tijuana,Mexico
Amanda and my daughter Patty with my two of my great grandchildren. Patty holding Angel. Amanda happy with Erik.
It was my great grandson's birthday. Christian in the white shirt standing next to my great grand daughter Cindy.
What's a Mexican birthday part without a pinata?
TWO PARTIES
The other day my sisters called me up to say they were having a party for their horse racing friends. (My sisters are into horse racing). Del Mar's season is about ready to close so a party was in order.
Now you've seen some of the feeds my sisters put out. All the Italian food unmatched. Last night they provided Bar B Q. Take my word ,they kick ass with Bar B Q too.
But then I got a call that it was my great grandson's birthday. He turned 9 and the celebration was going to be at a Mexican equivalent to Chuck E Cheese in TJ.
So where did I choose to go? Easy. The birthday party. You might say it was because Christian is my great grandson. Yes,that was a major factor,but not the only one. You see when Mexicans have a party ,the kids come along. There'd be no party without all the children . They make you happy to see their innocence. Their good feelings.
Screw these gringo parties just for adults. What are they going to do that they leave out the kids? I guess the vulgarity takes precedent. Oh my sisters aren't nasty like that,but the "adult" conversation becomes stale and pretentious. Makes me crave for a pinata.
Pound-for-pound king Manny Pacquiao shielded his Canadian adviser Michael Koncz from criticisms from various sectors of the fight game over the weekend, telling an assembled media in a luxurious hotel that he (Koncz) doesn’t act without his go signal. “Mike doesn’t act alone. Whenever he does something for me, you can be rest assured that it is with my permission,” said Pacquiao. “I like him because he does what I tell him to do. He has my confidence.”
Koncz was embroiled in a controversy recently after engaging top trainer Freddie Roach in a heated exchange of words over the still-unresolved matter of where Pacquiao will be setting up his training camp.
During that same forum with the members of the press, Pacquiao said he will begin training in Baguio upon his arrival from a five-city press/publicity tour beginning Sept. 10 in New York. From New York, Pacquiao and his team will travel to Puerto Rico, San Francisco, Los Angeles and San Diego.
Roach had wanted that Pacquiao and him train in the mountains of Toluca in Mexico where there’ll be no distractions, fearing that Pacquiao’s decision to remain in the Philippines could mess up their preparations for the Nov. 14 fight with Miguel Cotto.
But long-time Pacquiao friend Buboy Fernandez, who is also one of Roach’s assistants, told Fightnews and Manila Bulletin that Roach need not worry about getting distracted once they begin training in Baguio.
Fernandez said he just inspected the facilities in a boxing gym inside a local hotel and found it up to the task.
“Coach Freddie will like the gym and the location,” said Fernandez, stressing that Pacquiao fans will not be allowed to get inside while they are in training.
Despite his dislike for Baguio, Roach said he has no choice but to travel to the Philippines, saying that he will do his best to make sure Pacquiao will be more than ready for Cotto.
Back in the late 1970’s and early 80’s there was a pretty good heavyweight out on the West Coast. His name was Marty Monroe.
Marty was from Los Angeles and he turned pro in 1974. In 1976 he beat another up and coming heavyweight named Randy Mack. In 1977 he defeated tough Joe Gholston. In 1978 he defeated Leroy Boone.
In 1980 Marty would lose a decision to the rough and rugged Scott Ledoux. Marty bounced right back with impressive stoppage victories over Lynn Ball and Eddie ” The Animal ” Lopez. Marty was now a force to be reckoned with.
In 1981 Monroe would meet the streaking Greg Page. At this time Page was considered one of the best heavyweight prospects in the game. Greg proved to be too much for Monroe halting a game Marty in the sixth round. That might have been the best performance in the career of Greg Page.
Marty would layoff for two years and then return to win two fights. He ended his career in 1983 with a very respectable 25-2-1 record. He scored sixteen knockouts and was stopped only once.
In 1965, promoters Cal & Aileen Eaton began promoting weekly televised boxing shows from the Olympic Auditorium in Los Angeles. L.A. was loaded with boxing talent and the Eatons would parlay this talent into the most successful weekly boxing promotion in the world.
The Eatons hired veteran boxing figure Mickey Davies as matchmaker and Jimmy Lennon Sr. (The Voice of the Olympic Auditorium) was the ring announcer. The fights were televised every Thursday night on KTLA channel 5 from 8-to-10 pm.
with matchmaker Davies and a young Dick Enberg calling the action from ringside. It was a winning combination. However, it was the boxers that made "Boxing from the Olympic" the highest rated local TV production in Southern California.
A few months after things got started Cal Eaton passed away, leaving his widow Aileen with the responsibility of running the show. Aileen was not to be underestimated and she had no difficulty dealing in the tough world of professional boxing. To the managers she was known as a tough businesswoman and was nicknamed "Dragon Lady". However, she was like a mother to the boxers.
Eaton had the connections and resources to bring top name talent to Los Angeles to headline her boxing cards and often did so. However, she was also aware of the potential of local talent and focused her business on the development of these young fighters. For the next decade Aileen Eaton would help build the careers of many exceptional boxers and several would go on to win world championships.
The first World Champion to come from this group was one of the most exciting and charismatic to ever step into the ring at the 18th & Grand arena.
His name was Armando Ramos. Mando would become the youngest man to ever win the World Lightweight Championship.
Mando Ramos was a boxing prodigy. His father Ray Ramos had been a boxer and he taught his sons Junior and Mando how to box shortly after they had started walking. When Junior began boxing as an amateur Mando would follow his older brother to the gym. By the age of eight, Mando was competing in Jr. Golden Gloves tournaments in Los Angeles.
By the time Junior turned professional Mando was already gaining a rep at the gym. The tall, skinny teenager was outboxing a lot of pros and his punching power was no secret.
Mando Ramos had a gift, but he also had a curse. The gift Mando had would take him to the top of the world in boxing. However, the curse would take it all away from him before he ever had a chance to reach his prime as a boxer.
In the evening, Mando would work in his grandmother's Mexican restaurant washing dishes. He became friendly with the restaurant's bartender and this gave Mando access to all the booze he could want. It was the 60's and Mando was also known to indulge in other methods of getting high. Even so, Ramos was outclassing professional boxers in gym workouts and Junior decided it was time to hook his brother up with a top trainer.
Junior Ramos contacted Jackie McCoy, a former bantamweight contender who had fought Manuel Ortiz in the late 40's. McCoy was one of the best manager/trainers in boxing and had helped guide Don Jordan to the welterweight title in the late 50's. McCoy had heard of the kid but wanted to see for himself. What he saw convinced him that Mando Ramos was something special.
McCoy had a featherweight scheduled to fight in a main event the following week and he put the 16-year-old Ramos in with his boxer for a sparring match. Ramos knocked McCoy's fighter out in the opening round. McCoy was excited about what he saw and called his partner, Lee Praila, and told him to meet him at the gym the next day to discuss future plans for their new prospect.
McCoy went to work and fine tuned Ramos' natural talent, molding him into a boxer that was too good for the amateurs in Los Angeles, or anywhere else for that matter. Amateur boxers would not fight Mando and it was decided that in the best interest of Ramos he should turn professional. McCoy wanted Mando to concentrate on boxing and keep him away from the bad influence of his friends.
However, there was one problem. The California State Athletic Commission required a boxer to be 18-years-old to get a professional boxing license. Mando wasn't yet seventeen. McCoy feared that with no amateur competition, Ramos' career might succumb to his love of women and the party scene before it ever had a chance to get off the ground.
McCoy had a long talk with Mando and the skinny teenager promised to buckle down and work if given the opportunity to fight pro. With the help of a phony birth certificate, Mando Ramos made his professional boxing debut just two days after his 17th birthday.
Armando Ramos had his first pro fight at the Olympic Auditorium on November 17, 1965. In a one-sided match Ramos won a unanimous four round decision over Berlin Roberts. Two weeks later he KO'ed tough Chuey Loera in the second round and the fans were already taking notice of the talented kid from Long Beach. Ramos was nearly 5'10" and weighed 126 pounds. He was also strikingly handsome and became a favorite of the Los Angeles boxing fans watching in person or on TV.
Ramos had only been seen in two pro fights but Aileen Eaton was already getting letters from fans requesting to see more of this kid. Mando would start 1966 with three consecutive knockouts followed by a unanimous decision over Bosco Basileo in a six rounder.
Ramos was 6-0 with 4 knockouts when McCoy and Eaton decided to put him in his first ten round main event. His opponent would be a tough veteran named Joey Aquilar. The Olympic Auditorium, which held nearly 11,000 fans, was packed for Ramos' main event debut which was being broadcast live on television. Everybody thought that Ramos was amazing for an 18-year-old and had no idea that he was only seventeen. Ramos battered Aquilar, knocking the tough Mexican down three times before referee George Latka stopped the fight in the eighth round. A star was born.
Two weeks later Ramos headlined again at the Olympic and knocked out Ray Coleman in the 6th round. Two weeks later he iced Manny Linson in two rounds. By the end of 1966 Ramos was 14-0 (10 KO's) and ready to take another step up the ladder in the featherweight division.
Ramos was now an established main eventer and could sell out the Olympic within a few days of announcing that he was scheduled to fight. Eaton would no longer televise Ramos' fights. Mando's fights would now follow a televised ten rounder and if you wanted to see Ramos fight you would have to drive down to the Olympic and buy a ticket. And this is exactly what people
did.
Mando quickly became one of the biggest box-office attractions in the history of Los Angeles boxing. His popularity was being compared with L.A.'s last box office Golden Boy, Art Aragon from the 50's. It was about this time that the press discovered that L.A.'s newest Golden Boy had only just turned eighteen, making his success even more incredible.
Two months after Mando's 18th birthday he packed the Olympic Auditorium when he took on his first world rated opponent, unbeaten Ray Echevarria. Echevarria was the California Featherweight Champion and rated among the top ten featherweights in the world by the Ring Magazine.
Ramos out boxed, out punched and completely out fought the tough Echevarria, winning a unanimous ten round decision. Two months later Ramos would face another tough test in veteran Pete Gonzales, whom had beaten some of the best in the world and was also rated in the top ten by The Ring. Ramos again showed
his stuff and won a unanimous ten round decision over Gonzales.
Mando was growing and could no longer make 126 pounds. In his next bout he would move up into the jr. lightweight class and take on unbeaten Len Kesey of Eugene, Oregon. Ramos easily knocked out Kesey in the fifth round with a brutal left hook to the liver. Now 17-0 (11 KO's) Ramos would face his biggest test to date in Korea's Suh Kang-IL.
Less than twenty months after his pro debut Ramos was eighteen years old and getting rich. everybody wanted to be close to Mando and he loved the attention, not to mention the women. It was no secret that Mando was keeping late hours and McCoy was upset. The fight with Suh Kang IL was scheduled just two weeks after Ramos' KO of Len Kesey and Mando was confident. So confident that he missed several workouts prior to the match and showed up at the gym once with a hangover.
Suh Kang IL held victories over two world champions and on July 6, 1967 he handed Mando Ramos his first loss as a professional. Two nights before the fight, Ramos had gotten so wasted at a 4th of July party that he was arrested for drunk driving on the way home. L.A.'s newest Golden Boy was no longer unbeaten.
The following month McCoy took Ramos to Sacramento where he KO'ed Alex Luna in two. Ramos returned to L.A. and a few weeks later knocked out Eliseo Estrada in five. Mando was growing into a lightweight but before getting much bigger, fans in Los Angeles were begging to see him fight another hot featherweight making a name for himself at the Olympic, "Irish" Frankie Crawford.
Crawford and Ramos were not strangers, as both worked out at the Jake Shugrue Gym near 78th & Hoover in South Central Los Angeles. they had started their pro careers within months of each other and were similar in build. Like Ramos, Crawford was a tall featherweight at 5'9" and was a knockout puncher. Another thing the two boxers had in common was natural ability and poor
training habits. In later years they would become stablemates when McCoy took over management of Crawford's career and the two fighters became friends. however, on October 5, 1967 the two brought no friendship into the Olympic Auditorium ring when the two met for the first of two great fights.
Mando had about an inch in height on Crawford and at the weigh-in came in nine pounds heavier, which is quite an advantage to a guy under 130 pounds. Before a sellout crowd of 10,500 fans, Frankie Crawford stepped on Ramos' toes, hit him low, thumbed him and opened cuts with head butts and elbows. I knew Crawford well and can guarantee you that Fritzie Zivic and Ace Hudkins had nothing on Frankie when it came to dirty fighting. However, Crawford beat him legit. It was Crawford who entered the ring in better shape and who scored an upset decision victory over Ramos. I remember that Frankie had exhausted himself so much fighting the heavier Ramos, he was given oxygen in the dressing room after the match.
Ramos had lost for the second time in three months and this was a loss that Mando would have to avenge or forever hold his peace. Mando turned nineteen a month after losing to Crawford and three months later, on February 1, 1968 he'd meet Crawford again in a rematch. Mando entered the ring in shape this time and won a unanimous decision over Crawford. Mando Ramos was now ready to get back on the road that would lead him to a world title.
A few months after beating Crawford, Ramos would score his biggest win to date by defeating World Jr. Lightweight champ Hiroshi Kobayashi of Japan in a ten round non-title fight. Ramos beat Kobayashi easily and as a result was rated the number one lightweight in the world by The Ring Magazine.
Ramos was 19-years-old and in his next fight would face Carlos "Teo" Cruz for the World Lightweight Championship. If Ramos could beat Cruz he'd not only be the youngest boxer ever to win the lightweight title, but would do so as a teenager.
Cruz was a clever champion from the Dominican Republic who had won the title by defeating a great champion in Carlos Ortiz. Ramos trained hard for Cruz and I remember that Aileen Eaton would need more room to hold the fight than at the 10,500 seat Olympic Auditorium or the 15,000 seat Los Angeles Sports
Arena. Eaton held the Cruz-Ramos lightweight title fight at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum along with a World Featherweight Championship bout between Ramos' stablemate, WBA Featherweight Champ Raul Rojas and challenger Sho Saijyo.
Cruz opened cuts over both of Ramos' eyes and won a close decision after fifteen rounds, but it was obvious that Mando could beat Cruz. McCoy refused to let Ramos rest and wanted to keep him active. Mando had fought Cruz on even terms throughout much of the fight and Aileen Eaton signed Cruz to
give Ramos a second shot at the title four months later.
After scoring KO's in two tune-up matches, Ramos challenged Cruz once again for the lightweight title on February 18, 1969. This time it was Ramos who battered Cruz and opened cuts over both eyes of the champion. Referee John Thomas, on the advice of ringside physician Dr, Bernard Schwartz, stopped
the bout in the eleventh round. Three months after his 20th birthday, Armando Ramos became the youngest boxer in history to win the World Lightweight Championship.
Three months after winning the title Ramos KO'ed little known Jerry Graci in a non-title fight in Hawaii. He then returned to Los Angeles for the first defense of his title, knocking out newly crowned Jr. Lightweight Champ Yoshiaki Numata of Japan in the seventh round at the L.A. Sports Arena.
On March 3, 1970, Ramos would defend his title for the second time against former Lightweight Champ Ismael Laguna of Panama. During the five months between his first title defense against Numata and the Laguna fight, Ramos had enjoyed all the perks of being a world champion. It was obvious from the
opening round that Mando Ramos was not ready for the skilled Panamanian. By the ninth round Mando was cut to ribbons and bleeding from cuts over both eyes. On the advice of ringside physician Dr. Bernard Schwartz, referee Larry Rozadilla stopped the fight. Laguna had taken the title from Ramos just
over a year later he had won it.
At the age of 21, Ramos had already won and lost the Lightweight Championship. It would be more than five months before Ramos would step into the ring again, and when he did, he faced former Featherweight Champ Sugar Ramos. Sugar Ramos had been fighting in the lightweight division since losing the featherweight title to Vicente Saldivar six years previous.
Ramos and Ramos engaged in one of the bloodiest battles I have ever seen. In the end it was Mando's fight but he left the ring with major cuts over both eyes. A couple of weeks later he underwent plastic surgery to remove the scar tissue in hopes that it would prolong his ring career.
After giving his skin four months to heal, Ramos would engage in a fight that was as important to him personally as it was professionally. He would be matched with his former stablemate Raul Rojas. Rojas was the former WBA Featherweight & Jr. Lightweight Champion and his criticism of Ramos was making headlines in Los Angeles sports pages. Mando trained harder than ever for this match.
On December 10, 1970 Ramos and Rojas would fight before a sellout crowd at the Olympic Auditorium. The match would be the highlight of an all-star card that also featured Frankie Crawford, welterweight prospect Armando Muniz and myself in a six round TV prelim.
I remember the weigh-in for this fight. It was at 11am. on the day of the match (today weigh-ins are held the night before a fight). All of the boxers were weighed-in on a scale set up inside the ring at the Olympic Auditorium. Frankie Crawford stepped onto the scale right after I was weighed and as we left the ring I asked Frankie about Mando's conditioning. Crawford said he's
never seen Mando in better shape and that he was going to destroy Rojas.
That night I opened the show with a unanimous decision win over Antonio Villanueva. In the next bout Armando Muniz remained unbeaten with a KO win. In the televised main event Frankie Crawford knocked out Jose Luis Martinez with a late blow that landed a second after the final bell. After Crawford's controversial win, Ramos and Rojas entered the ring.
The odds favored Ramos slightly but Rojas was a tough former world champ and there was bad blood between the two. In the sixth round, Ramos caught Rojas with a solid left hook flush on the jaw that put his former stablemate to sleep. Referee Dick Young didn't even bother to count.
Ismael Laguna had lost his lightweight championship to Ken Buchanan of Scotland. After Ramos KO'ed Rojas promoter Aileen Eaton signed Buchanan to defend his title against Ramos. The bout was scheduled for the Los Angeles Sports arena on February 12, 1971. I was also signed to fight on the undercard of the Buchanan-Ramos fight and would serve as a Buchanan sparring partner briefly. Less than a week prior to the fight Ramos pulled out claiming to have been injured in the gym. This would cost promoter Aileen Eaton a great deal of money and she was fortunate to get my stablemate Ruben Navarro to substitute for Ramos. Navarro was training for a fight the following month with Jimmy Robertson and was not quite in condition for a fifteen rounder. However, Navarro ended up flooring Buchanan before losing a close decision.
This was not the first time that Ramos had pulled out of an important match claiming to be injured or sick. Mando's problem had nothing to do with injury, it had to do with heroin addiction. Mando's party habits had taken control of his life was destroying his career.
Mando didn't fight again for another nine months and when he did I appeared on the undercard of that match as well. It was September 30, 1971 and Ramos would face my stablemate Ruben Navarro at the Olympic Auditorium. The winner of this match was guaranteed a shot at the vacant WBC Lightweight
Championship against Spain's Pedro Carrasco.
Mando had his hands full with Navarro and at the end of ten rounds the crowd was aware that Navarro had beaten Ramos. However, the judges saw it different and awarded Ramos a narrow split decision win.
Two months later Ramos would fight Carrasco in Spain for the WBC title but end up losing on disqualification in the 12th round after beating the Spanish fighter handily. Three months later a rematch would be held in Los Angeles and Ramos would win the title via a unanimous fifteen round decision. Mando had trained very hard for this match and looked the best I had seen him since
flattening Raul Rojas.
I remember driving Frankie Crawford to Mando's apartment in Belmont Shores a few weeks before this fight. Crawford and I had stopped in to visit Mando and the former champ was really focused. On the door to his refrigerator he had a photo of Carrasco set in the middle of a target. Mando's focus paid
off and Mando was once again a World Champion.
Ramos would defeat Carrassco a second time four months later and then signed to defend his title against Mexican Lightweight Champ Chango Carmona.
Between the last Carrassco fight and the Carmona fight, Ramos had fallen back on his old ways. After Ramos had pulled out of the Buchanan match the previous year, Aileen Eaton had a clause inserted into any contract with Ramos stating that if he were to pull out of the match for any reason he would be liable for a minimum of $50,000. to Eaton.
Less than a week before the Carmona match, Ramos was found early one morning laying half naked in the sand near his Belmont shores apartment. Mando had overdosed on heroin. the press never got word of this and I only heard it thru mutual friends. Mando Ramos was truly sick, however, he would have to honor his contract and go thru with the fight.
On September 15, 1972, Mando Ramos lost the WBC Lightweight Championship at the Los Angeles Coliseum and nearly lost his life. Carmona battered Ramos before knocking him out in the eighth round. Ramos could not make it to his feet following the knockout and had to be taken from the ring in a stretcher. The magic career of Mando Ramos was history.
It would be nearly a year before Ramos would fight again and when he did he was knocked out by Turi Pineda, a fighter that would not have lasted three rounds with Ramos in the past.
In 1974 Ramos headed to Germany where he won three fights in two weeks, before being KO'ed twice by Wolfgang Gans, a second rate German welterweight. He then went to Las Vegas where he was granted a license and lost a ten rounder to a prelim fighter with a losing record. After scoring a couple of close victories Mando Ramos fought Wayne Beale in what would be his last professional fight. Beale had a losing record and was somebody I had beaten easily a few years previous as an amateur. Beale knocked out Ramos in the second round.
Mando disappeared from sight for some time. Every once in awhile I would hear something about Ramos and it was never good. I was told he was strung out pretty bad and was homeless. I also heard that Mando's older brother Junior had died from a heroin overdose.
Then one day I heard that Mando had found himself and had been able to put together some clean time. He was said to be working in San Pedro as a long shoreman and had organized a youth boxing program called "B.A.A.D." - Boxers & Athletes Against Drugs.
About this time four years ago I was working as a lighting technician on the film "CON AIR". One day Carlos Palomino had come to visit some friends of his that were working on the set. I recognized Carlos and noticed that he had brought a friend with him. I didn't recognize the friend but there was something very familiar about him. I could tell the guy had been a fighter and noticed the guy was staring at me. In fact, I was staring at him and it appeared as if he were trying to remember my face. I finally got a chance to break away from my work and went over to say Hi to Carlos. As Palomino and I shook hands his friend stands up and extends his hand to me. He said "Hi, I'm Mando Ramos".
I would have never recognized Mando. He looked great but was a lot heavier than he used to be and had a mustache. I said "Mando, I'm Rick Farris . . . I didn't recognize you". We both began to laugh and tell old stories. We talked about the Olympic and our old friend Frankie Crawford who had died in the early 80's. Seeing Ramos made my day. What really made me happy was hearing that he had been clean & sober for more than a dozen years. He was happily married and life was in session again for Mando Ramos. Around his neck he had a gold chain with the letters "MR. BADD" inscribed on a charm. Mando told me that his young boxers had presented it to him as a Christmas
present the previous year in recognition of his program.
During the time Mando and Palomino were on the set, I watched people walk up to Carlos and introduce him as the former Welterweight champ. Carlos had done work in the film industry and was well known. I was shocked that nobody even looked at Ramos until Palomino and I told people who it was. Suddenly,
Mando Ramos fans appeared from everywhere. People would walk onto the set from other stages after hearing that Mando Ramos was on the lot. If I was unable to recognize Ramos after all the years it's understandable why other didn't either. But once they found out who it was he was the most popular thing on stage, more so than Palomino or Nicolas Cage.
That was the Mando Ramos I remember. Mando's career is long down the road but I have to tell you he still has that charisma. Mando Ramos has come off the canvas and proven himself a champion in life.
He shook up the sports world as few men had before him or would after him. He was loved by millions of people, detested by millions of others, feared by many of the opponents he faced in the ring, and remembered by everyone who saw him. Al "Scarface" Capone was one of the most successful-- and controversial --fighters in boxing history, and his legacy would loom large in the ring long after he had hung up his gloves for the last time.
Alphonse Gabriel Capone was born in Brooklyn, New York on January 17th, 1899. He was introduced to the sweet science at the age of 13 by a neighborhood candy store owner who had once fought professionally as a middleweight; the boxing lessons helped channel Capone’s aggressive impulses into socially acceptable outlets and keep him from getting sucked into the dangerous criminal underworld of early 20th century New York. By age 15 he was skilled enough to enter local youth amateur tournaments; at 20 he won the prestigious Golden Gloves championship in the heavyweight division. Some sports historians even believe that Capone might have made the 1916 US Olympic boxing team had World War I not forced the cancellation of the Summer Games that year.
Capone, who moved to Chicago just after World War I ended, finally did make the Olympic boxing squad in time for the 1920 Summer Games in Antwerp; he won the gold medal in his weight class by virtue of his fierce, pedal-to-the-metal fighting style and an uppercut that could literally almost take a man’s head off. One challenger that Capone was scheduled to face in the Olympic tournament chose to forfeit the match rather than endure the punishing body blows and headshots he almost certainly would have undergone at Capone’s hands.
Capone got the nickname "Scarface" from a cut he sustained on his temple during his first professional bout in 1921. The cut happened during the third round of that bout and nearly provoked the referee to stop the fight; it took half a dozen stitches to close the wound. Some of Capone’s family and friends resented the moniker; Capone himself, however, was rather fond of it-- it implied toughness, a simultaneous ability to take punishment from his opponents and dish it right back out to them.
That ability would propel him steadily up the ranks over the next year and a half. By the spring of 1923 Capone was number two among the top ten contenders for the world heavyweight title, and there wasn’t much doubt in anyone’s mind he would soon be number one on that list.
Only one man stood in the way of his attainment of that pinnacle....
******
Eliot Ness, known to his fans as "Untouchable" because his foes could never seem to land a punch on him, was Al "Scarface" Capone’s main rival in the fight game at the time the two men were booked to face one another in June of 1923 in the main event of a heavyweight card in Detroit. Whereas Capone relied on power to gain victory, Ness’ fighting technique emphasized quick timing and concentration of blows on a particularly vulnerable part of his opponent’s body. But while he may have been different from Capone in many respects, he had one notable similarity to the Chicago brawler: like Capone, he had been steadily working his way up the ladder after winning the gold medal in his weight class at the 1920 Summer Olympics.
The two fighters had something else in common too-- undefeated records. When Ness and Capone stepped into the ring on the afternoon of June 17th, 1923 Ness boasted a record of 24 wins and 1 draw over 25 fights; Capone had 23 consecutive victories to his credit, 20 of them by knockout in the first or second round. Just about everyone who was in attendance that day expected the match to be a long one; up in the press boxes, the sportswriters had a running bet that the fight would not end any earlier than the eighth round.
As it turned out, Ness and Capone would slug it out at least ten rounds before Ness could gain a noticeable if slight advantage; not until the eleventh round, when Ness was ahead on points, did Capone get the first knockdown of the bout. When the Cleveland native fell to the canvas, you could have heard a pin drop in the arena-- no previous opponent had been able to even come close to doing that to Ness. In the Capone corner Capone’s trainer and occasional sparring partner, Frank Nitti, let out a whoop loud enough to echo all the way back to the arena’s locker rooms.
1:42 into the eleventh round, Capone knocked Ness down a second time; the arena crowd, which was predominantly pro-Ness, reacted with mingled alarm and outrage. At least one spectator threw an empty paper cup in the direction of the ring and was ejected by police for his troubles. By now Capone was overtaking Ness on points and had softened him up to the point where another knockdown would end both the fight and Ness’ undefeated streak.
In desperation, Ness aimed an uppercut at Capone’s nose. That would prove to be the Clevelander’s crucial mistake; Capone landed a body blow which sent Ness sprawling to the mat and left him literally flat on his face. The referee called for the bell and officially named Capone the winner by technical knockout; only a massive Detroit Police presence inside the arena prevented a full-fledged riot from erupting.
And even with the cops around, some people couldn’t resist taking a shot at him, verbal or otherwise-- an Auburn Hills man was arrested for attempted assault after he tried to crack Capone’s skull with a two-by-four.
Charges that Capone had used illegal tactics to gain the victory over Ness created a firestorm in the press in the days immediately after the bout; however, Capone himself denied the accusations and no definitive proof was ever found to back them up. In early September of 1923, the investigation into these charges was closed and the scandal largely forgotten.1
******
As great as his triumph over Ness had been, however, a still greater accomplishment lay ahead for Capone. Jack Dempsey, world heavyweight champion since 1919, was booked to defend his belt against Capone in early December of 1923 in Kansas City; for Capone, it was an opportunity he couldn’t refuse-- the chance to both become world champion and smash the legend of Dempsey’s invincibility in one fell swoop.
To prepare for his clash with the champion, Capone embarked on the toughest training regimen of his career. Part of that regimen was watching films of Dempsey at work in the ring; in fact, Capone is widely credited as being one of the first boxers in any weight class to make viewing films of his opponents a regular part of pre-fight preparations. He also took part in a number of long sparring sessions with Frank Nitti, working at all hours to perfect his jabs and body blows. Though an outgoing man by nature, Capone cut back sharply on his socializing in the weeks leading up to his showdown with Dempsey. He even, albeit somewhat reluctantly, gave up his Friday night visits to his favorite speakeasy.2
Finally, on December 4th, 1923, Capone and Dempsey met face-to-face in a smoke-filled Kansas City arena; everybody who was there knew the stakes in this bout were sky-high, and nobody understood it better than Capone and Dempsey themselves. For Dempsey a win meant continuing his historic undefeated streak; for Capone victory would put him down in the history books as a giant-killer and give him the world heavyweight title.
For twelve rounds Capone and Dempsey went at each other like angry rhinos. The closest either man came to knocking the other man out was when Capone knocked Dempsey down twice in the tenth round; some of the sportswriters covering the bout began quietly making bets after the eighth round that the bout would end in a draw. But when the bell rang for the end of the twelfth round and the judges’ scores were tallied up, Capone would turn out to have earned a split decision win to become the new world heavyweight champion. Jack Dempsey, sure he’d beaten Capone, fell to the canvas in shock when the judges’ decision was announced; some sports historians suggest that Dempsey’s defeat in Kansas City may have marked the beginning of the end for his boxing career. It certainly shattered the myth of his invincibility.
Making good on a promise he’d given prior to the bout, Capone hosted a steak dinner for his family and closest friends back home in Chicago to celebrate his newly won title. He posed for photos with one of the other great American sports idols of the 1920s, George Herman "Babe" Ruth, and spoke at length to sportswriters from the Chicago Tribune and Chicago Sun-Times about his match against Dempsey. He was on top of the world that night...
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....and would stay there for a long time. Capone proved to be the most dominant boxing champion of his generation, winning 38 bouts in a row, with 36 of those bouts lasting just five rounds or less; of those 36 matches thirty would be won in the first two rounds, and out of that group of thirty at least fifteen fights would be won by first- round KO. "I just forgot how to lose." Capone joked to sportwriters after his September 1925 four-round win over fellow Chicagoan ‘Bugs’ Moran, and there was certainly no shortage of opponents willing to refresh his memory. In fact, other than Eliot Ness, ‘Bugs’ Moran was Capone’s most persistent rival for the world heavyweight championship. Capone and Moran had known and disliked each other for years; Moran accused Capone of costing him a spot on the 1920 US Olympic boxing team, and in turn Capone charged that Moran had disparaged Capone’s wife behind her back. And the Capone-Moran fights weren’t confined to the ring, either; three months before Capone’s four-round victory, he and Moran had gotten into a vicious brawl at a party hosted by actress Clara Bow after Moran made a remark mocking Capone’s Italian heritage.
Nor would the September 1925 fight be the last time Moran stepped through the ropes to face Capone; in May of 1927 the two squared off in a highly publicized and ferociously fought rematch at Braves Field in Boston. That bout lasted just two rounds, halted by the referee at the 1:42 mark of the second round after Capone broke Moran’s jaw with a strong right cross which also opened a cut on Moran’s right temple. Moran nearly retired from boxing after that defeat, and in fact a year would pass before he stepped into the ring again.
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For most of the year Moran was out of boxing, Capone kept right on winning, so convincingly and in such swift fashion that at one point some promoters suggested retiring the world heavyweight title altogether. There didn’t seem to be anyone left who wanted to take him on; Capone himself bluntly told a Los Angeles Herald-Tribune boxing beat correspondent, "I’ve whipped so many guys by now everybody’s gone yellow...there ain’t nobody left in the whole wide world who has the guts to fight me."3
There were certainly fewer and fewer fighters on American soil willing to risk their necks to try and wrest Capone’s heavyweight belt from him; even Eliot Ness, the champion’s most unrelenting adversary, was starting to seem a bit hesitant to face him again. And it couldn’t have helped Ness’ courage any when Capone wrecked Gene Tunney in three rounds in February of 1928 in a bout rightly dubbed by sportswriters as "the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre".4 Boxing promoters looking for a challenger who had the moxie to stand toe-to-toe with Scarface found themselves increasingly having to look to Europe to find fighters to take on the champion.
But there was an American fighter who wasn’t the slightest bit intimidated by the Al Capone mystique: one Benjamin "Bugsy"5 Siegel, a brawler with an uppercut that had left more than one foe flat on his back. Siegel, who’d turned pro shortly after the first Capone-Moran bout, had a record of sixteen wins and one draw at the time of the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre and was eager to prove he could take the world heavyweight champion down.
On a Monday afternoon in March of 1928, Siegel confronted Capone at the South Side gym where Capone trained in between fights; to the shock of everyone present and the outrage of Capone himself, the 22- year-old New Yorker labeled the heavyweight champion a "relic" and a "worthless coward" and dared Capone to face him in the ring. Capone, hellbent on putting this New York upstart in his place, took Siegel up on the dare and the match was booked for July 1st at the Los Angeles Coliseum.
That day would see the Coliseum host the largest crowd in boxing history-- and the end of Scarface’s title reign.
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107,634 people packed Los Angeles Coliseum for the Siegel-Capone fight-- among them Bugs Moran and Eliot Ness, who while sitting in separate sections were both rooting for Siegel to wipe the canvas with Capone. Ness brought his manager Frank Wilson to the fight, and Moran showed up at the Coliseum with his sparring partners Dion O’Banion and Hymie Weiss in tow.
Ness and Moran weren’t the only famous faces to show up for the Siegel-Capone bout; writer Ernest Hemingway, singer/actor Al Jolson, and Capone’s old pal Babe Ruth were just some of the VIPs on hand for the bout. There was even a brief chat prior to the bout between Siegel and disgraced evangelist Aimee Semple MacPherson. Herbert Hoover, then campaigning to succeed the outgoing Calvin Coolidge as President of the United States, arrived at the Coliseum just before the start of the second round and stayed until the fight was over.
It was clear Capone was in trouble when Siegel knocked him down twice during the eighth round; none of Capone’s previous opponents had ever managed to accomplish that, and only one-- Jack Dempsey --had even been able to come close, sending Capone to the canvas once in the sixth round of their legendary December 1923 bout. But Siegel had a ton of self-confidence, his famous uppercut, and the backing of most of the Coliseum crowd in his favor. By the ninth round Siegel held the edge on points and could sense the champion was on his last legs; in the tenth round he delivered the coup de grace, his patented uppercut nailing Capone square on the nose and sending the champion tumbling to the canvas. One ten-count later, Bugsy Siegel was the new heavyweight champion of the world...
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....and Al Capone’s boxing career had started falling into an irreversible decline. Following his loss to Siegel, Capone went into seclusion for the next seven months, and when he finally stepped back into the ring in February of 1929, he lost in six rounds to up-and- coming Italian heavyweight Primo Carnera. He tried to get his career back on track with a final showdown against longtime rival Eliot Ness in June of 1929, only to have Ness embarrass him by knocking him out in four rounds.
Things weren’t much better for him outside the ring either. In August of 1929 Mae Coughlin Capone, his wife since 1918, left him and filed for divorce after the former champion lashed out at her one night in a violent alcoholic rage; two months later, he lost most of his personal fortune in the Wall Street stock market crash that began the Great Depression.
His misfortunes grew even worse in April of 1930 when he was indicted on charges of tax evasion after an IRS audit of his financial records between 1925 and 1927 turned up evidence that Capone might have falsified some of his income tax statements; his trial, which lasted more than six months, was avidly followed by America’s major newspapers and radio networks and ended with Capone being sentenced to three years in prison for tax fraud. He served a year and a half of that sentence and was released in September of 1932, a shell of the larger-than-life figure boxing fans had known at the height of his success as world heavyweight champion.
In what would turn out to be his final professional match ever, Capone, hoping to recapture some of his past glory, faced Bugs Moran one more time in January of 1933 at the Winterland Ballroom in San Francisco. But Capone’s hopes were emphatically dashed; Moran, letting loose years of pent-up frustration over his previous defeats at the hands of Capone, tore the ex-champion apart like paper. The man who’d once ruled the heavyweight ranks with an iron fist met the same fate he had inflicted on so many of his foes-- a first-round defeat by knockout.
Shortly after his loss to Moran in San Francisco, Capone got some devastating news from his personal physician: he had been diagnosed with dementia pugilistica, a brain disorder common to boxers which is incurable. This diagnosis crushed Capone’s spirit as even his worst defeats in the ring had never done, and Frank Nitti would later recall that Capone returned from his doctor’s visit "wearing the look of a men who’s just been sentenced to the electric chair".6 Capone knew that those afflicted with dementia pugilistica became vegetables sooner or later, and that was a fate he couldn’t bear to endure.
On August 17th, 1933 Nitti got a phone call from the landlady of the bachelor apartment where Capone had been living since his divorce from Mae became final; in great agitation, she told Nitti that there had been no sound or movement from Capone’s flat since 10:30 PM the night before. Nitti, immediately sensing the worst, phoned the Chicago Police, who sent a detail to bust down the door of Capone’s apartment. When they got in, they found Capone sprawled out on the floor of his bedroom with what looked like a bottle of strychnine in one hand.
The former world heavyweight champion had committed suicide.
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Al Capone was laid to rest on August 21st, 1933 in one of the largest funerals Chicago had ever seen. The procession to Capone’s gravesite spanned five city blocks; the mausoleum where his body was interred was bigger than some Chicagoans’ houses. Today, next to Wrigley Field and the Sears Tower, the mausoleum ranks as the Windy City’s most famous tourist attraction. Indeed, Capone left his mark on Chicago and the sport of boxing in endless ways large and small; for example a particularly hard body blow is now known in boxing lingo as "a Capone punch", and a boxing school named in his honor has been operating on Chicago’s South Side since the late 1940s.
Mae Capone remarried two years after her divorce from Al Capone was finalized and moved to Manhattan, where she died in 1986. Frank Nitti was killed in March of 1941 in a car crash near the Illinois town of Cicero; Eliot Ness retired from professional boxing in 1939 to become a CBS Radio sportscaster, a job he held until his death from a heart attack in 1957. Bugs Moran defeated Massachusetts native Jack Sharkey for the world heavyweight title in October of 1933 only to end up losing the title to German sports legend Max Schmeling five months later; he retired in 1942 to become a promoter, booking boxing matches throughout the Midwest until his death in 1951.
Hymie Weiss and Dion O’Banion were both gunned down in the spring of 1935 in Newark, New Jersey during a bank holdup attempt gone awry. Their killer was caught three weeks later, convicted of conspiracy to commit bank robbery and second-degree murder, and executed in the New Jersey State Prison electric chair in September of 1936.
After losing the heavyweight championship to Jack Sharkey in 1930, Bugsy Siegel endured a long and hard struggle to return to the top of the heavyweight ranks. In February of 1935 he took on Max Schmeling in London and beat the German colossus in six rounds to regain the world heavyweight title; after his second championship reign ended in June of 1937, he embarked on a second career as a movie serials actor and became romantically involved with a Hollywood chorus girl. Siegel was killed in a plane crash in the Nevada desert in 1950.
. Btw, what are flautas?... 
