Classic American West Coast Boxing

[dagosd2000]

Monica Menezes Farris is now an American citizen.
Her dream come true.

Monica
Felicidades !!!!

[dagosd2000]

IN OLD CHICAGO

Was born in Chcago. Raised up there. My grandmother's house that used to be her husband's was on the corner of Polk and Oakley Boulevards. Diamond Joe's house. Little Italy.

So how far back do you go to find that safe and happy place? For me it was back there. Back in old Chicago. Cold winters off the lake front. Snapping up those rubber boots. Taking the train into the city with my mother and sisters. Passing slowly by the stock yards. The big Christmas tree inside Marshall Fields. The caverns of the Field Museum. Soldiers Field next door. The Bears were at Wrigley. Halas with that coat and fedora on the sidelines. The Cubs playing baseball in the day. Jack Brickhouse announcing the games. The Cubs were always near the bottom,but Wrigley somehow made it tolerable.

I remember the echoey sound of the big organ at the Chicago Stadium. A Blackhawk game when all the teams were from cold weather cities. Riverview Park and a scary ride on the "Bobs".The Polish neighborhood with the polka music coming out the door. Overcoats and leather shoes.

As everything else, it's different. The change of time has put it in a dream for me. Maxwell Street is an elongated Starbucks. That's enough to sing the blues,but the songs are gone. The Italian neighborhood on Polk and Oakley is trash can fires with dirty needles on the pavement. The Loop looks like Mexico City.

What I remember is when I was a little boy.All those images are very big to me. Pabst Blue Ribbon and Hamm's. I liked the smell,but it tasted awfull. My German uncle would laugh when I spit out a sip.Even that is big in my mind.

So who's that guy in the picture? One of last of the old guard. An old Chicagoan. A Runyon type character.A history piece. A treasure. He saw what I remembered when I was a little boy when he was in his prime and everything to me seemed real big.
"I saw Johnny Saxton fight Basilio,"he said shaking his fist.

Is he putting us on? A little. I was too young to remember all of what I missed. Why should he explain it to me? Pops was there.He knows. So let the younger guys have fun.He sits back and enjoys. Besides I'm not that far away anyway. Guys like him left many footprints in that town. As long as I'm alive those footprints will never be blown away.Where I walk leaves no trace.

[kikibalt]

Photo courtesy of Rick Farris



Monica after getting U.S. citizenship

[kikibalt]

New book on Sugar Ray Robinson

'Sweet Thunder' by Wil Haygood
With his elegance and power, boxing's Sugar Ray Robinson put the 'sweet' in the sweet science -- a fine new biography follows him through the change and turmoil of the 20th century.

By Tim Rutten

October 28, 2009

When I was a young boxing writer, I once was invited to watch historic fight films with a small group that included Sugar Ray Robinson, by then long retired from the ring.

Suffice to say, I was -- by several orders of magnitude -- the most ignorant person in the room, but the deference our companions paid even Robinson's briefest comment was striking. For my part, I recall being struck by the unexpected sophistication -- even delicacy -- of his descriptive vocabulary, which was studded with phrases borrowed from the worlds of dance and music, mainly jazz, and framed with a kind of poetic precision.

Reading Wil Haygood's thoroughly marvelous new biography, "Sweet Thunder: The Life and Times of Sugar Ray Robinson," I was transported back to that memorable evening when I came across a phrase that that greatest of fighters had used to describe, in one of the films we watched, an almost imperceptible feint with head and shoulder that set up a winning combination of punches: "The best is always fragile."

With this book, Haygood -- a feature writer for the Washington Post -- completes a biographical trilogy that includes earlier prize-winning volumes on Sammy Davis Jr. and the Harlem congressman Adam Clayton Powell Jr., pivotal African American personalities whom the author clearly sees as having tilled the cultural furrows in which the seeds of the civil rights movement ultimately took root.

"Sweet Thunder" is by far the best of these books and, in describing an athlete now universally acknowledged as the greatest prizefighter who ever lived, better also than Robinson's own collaborative autobiography. Anyone who ever saw him in the ring, or has watched a film of one of his bouts, understands why boxing fans paradoxically insist on calling their sport "the sweet science." Because his professional record included multiple welter- and middleweight titles and a stunning overall record of 174-19-6, it's often unappreciated that Robinson was, along with Jesse Owens, the greatest amateur athlete of the 20th century. He won all 85 of his amateur fights, 69 by knockout, 40 in the first round.

Haygood gives a fine account of Robinson's career in the dazzlingly competitive welter- and middleweight ranks of his era, but where this lyrically written biography -- with its jazz-inflected prose -- truly excels is in its evocation of the culturally rich post-renaissance Harlem, where Robinson began boxing as a 9th-grade dropout. (He was born Walker Smith Jr. in Georgia in 1921; he borrowed the name Ray Robinson from a friend so he could take part in AAU competitions while underage.)

It was the culture of Harlem that actually educated, elevated and empowered Robinson, who became the first black fighter to negotiate his own contracts and manage his own affairs. As champion, he opened a popular jazz spot that was frequented not only by Caucasian friends, like Frank Sinatra, but also by other African American cultural giants with whom Robinson enjoyed close associations, including Lena Horne, Miles Davis and the poet Langston Hughes, who always regretted not being able to convince Robinson to appear in one of his stage pieces.

Together, in the postwar years, they came to epitomize what Haygood winningly calls "the Esquire style" -- icons of a personal cool based on that style magazine. "Above 125th Street, the periodical was being flipped open by jazz-playing hands, by young writers and dancers, by young pugilists. It advertised features on 'fiction, sports, humor, clothes, art, cartoons.' By the time that milieu had been mixed and soaked into the brew of uptown, a whole crop of men had emerged joining the well-heeled and their progeny to let them know that they too believed in the magic of art and style. Only these individuals felt compelled to add their own music. And so it was jazz that colored their Esquire-loving signature and came to flood the senses of the young Sugar Ray."

As strong as Haygood is on the active years of Robinson's career, his book is perhaps a trifle light on the formative early life (before he discovered boxing) and on the melancholy twilight that overtook him in Los Angeles when, after the money had run out and his dreams of a fresh start in film or television had come to nothing, he and his wife, Millie, were living in the upper half of a rented duplex on West Adams.

As Haygood writes, Robinson was inspired into social action during that period by a conversation with -- of all people -- Prince Philip when he and Millie were invited to Buckingham Palace to celebrate Queen Elizabeth's birthday in 1969. When the Robinsons returned to L.A., he devoted himself to raising money for and working directly with young people we'd now call "at-risk youth." It was a successful -- if always financially precarious -- program that taught its participants physical skills, self-confidence and tried to impart a touch of Sugar Ray's ineffable class. Florence Griffith Joyner, the three-time Olympic gold medalist and athletic style icon, was one of its graduates.

Nothing during that period, however, came close to the adulation Robinson received when he attended the weekly boxing cards at the old Olympic Auditorium. There always was something thrilling about the way Jimmy Lennon -- the incomparable announcer of so many memorable fights -- would save Sugar Ray for last during the traditional introduction of dignitaries that preceded each card: "And now," that faultless Irish tenor would intone, "I am calling to the ring, the former world welterweight champion, the five-time middleweight champion, pound for pound the greatest fighter in the history of the world, the champion's champion -- Sugar Raaaay Robinsooooooooon!" Into the ring Robinson would bound, Esquire dapper and light on his feet as a dancer, while the whole arena stood and cheered. No fight fan who ever was there would forget what they saw and heard.

Later, there would be years in the deepening shadows of what was called Alzheimer's and doubtless was the sort of pugilistic dementia a career of more than 200 fights makes almost inevitable. There was a sad and unseemly tug-of-war between his wife and children, all of which Haygood, perhaps wisely, passes over in silence.

As Sugar Ray, who died in 1989, said to his longtime coach, George Gainford, as he left the ring as a prizefighter for the last time, "No beefs, George. Sometimes, we got the best of it in the past."

[email protected]

[scartissue]

IN OLD CHICAGO

Was born in Chcago. Raised up there. My grandmother's house that used to be her husband's was on the corner of Polk and Oakley Boulevards. Diamond Joe's house. Little Italy.

So how far back do you go to find that safe and happy place? For me it was back there. Back in old Chicago. Cold winters off the lake front. Snapping up those rubber boots. Taking the train into the city with my mother and sisters. Passing slowly by the stock yards. The big Christmas tree inside Marshall Fields. The caverns of the Field Museum. Soldiers Field next door. The Bears were at Wrigley. Halas with that coat and fedora on the sidelines. The Cubs playing baseball in the day. Jack Brickhouse announcing the games. The Cubs were always near the bottom,but Wrigley somehow made it tolerable.

I remember the echoey sound of the big organ at the Chicago Stadium. A Blackhawk game when all the teams were from cold weather cities. Riverview Park and a scary ride on the "Bobs".The Polish neighborhood with the polka music coming out the door. Overcoats and leather shoes.

As everything else, it's different. The change of time has put it in a dream for me. Maxwell Street is an elongated Starbucks. That's enough to sing the blues,but the songs are gone. The Italian neighborhood on Polk and Oakley is trash can fires with dirty needles on the pavement. The Loop looks like Mexico City.

What I remember is when I was a little boy.All those images are very big to me. Pabst Blue Ribbon and Hamm's. I liked the smell,but it tasted awfull. My German uncle would laugh when I spit out a sip.Even that is big in my mind.

So who's that guy in the picture? One of last of the old guard. An old Chicagoan. A Runyon type character.A history piece. A treasure. He saw what I remembered when I was a little boy when he was in his prime and everything to me seemed real big.
"I saw Johnny Saxton fight Basilio,"he said shaking his fist.

Is he putting us on? A little. I was too young to remember all of what I missed. Why should he explain it to me? Pops was there.He knows. So let the younger guys have fun.He sits back and enjoys. Besides I'm not that far away anyway. Guys like him left many footprints in that town. As long as I'm alive those footprints will never be blown away.Where I walk leaves no trace.

Rog, that was as vivid and well put a story as I've read. Man, you got everything down pat. My memories are of growing up on the west side where, as my father would say, everyone was either Irish or Dayyyyyyygoooooo. His 1st car, that he brags on to this day. I think he picked it up in the late '50s, it was a '48 Dodge. Always said it never failed him. My mom said different. She said it never failed until she went into labor. Had to take a cab to the hospital that day. I chuckle at how people today and probably DCFS would bristle at anyone taking a kid into a bar. But I learned to play pool from my Pops in McCauley's, one of the many Irish pubs dotting Chicago Avenue. I recall those halloweens, where every kid could travel several blocks in any direction, come home and empty your swag and then go out with an empty bag for your next shift. Today, parents have armed guards with their kids and only go to houses with resumes posted. Memories I cherish.

Scartissue

[raylawpc]

Congrats to Frank on his award at the WBHOF banquet. Looks like everybody had a good time.

Also congrats to Monica for getting her US citizenship.

[kikibalt]

Congrats to Frank on his award at the WBHOF banquet. Looks like everybody had a good time.

Also congrats to Monica for getting her US citizenship.

Thank you, Tom...

[Expug]

IN OLD CHICAGO

Was born in Chcago. Raised up there. My grandmother's house that used to be her husband's was on the corner of Polk and Oakley Boulevards. Diamond Joe's house. Little Italy.

So how far back do you go to find that safe and happy place? For me it was back there. Back in old Chicago. Cold winters off the lake front. Snapping up those rubber boots. Taking the train into the city with my mother and sisters. Passing slowly by the stock yards. The big Christmas tree inside Marshall Fields. The caverns of the Field Museum. Soldiers Field next door. The Bears were at Wrigley. Halas with that coat and fedora on the sidelines. The Cubs playing baseball in the day. Jack Brickhouse announcing the games. The Cubs were always near the bottom,but Wrigley somehow made it tolerable.

I remember the echoey sound of the big organ at the Chicago Stadium. A Blackhawk game when all the teams were from cold weather cities. Riverview Park and a scary ride on the "Bobs".The Polish neighborhood with the polka music coming out the door. Overcoats and leather shoes.

As everything else, it's different. The change of time has put it in a dream for me. Maxwell Street is an elongated Starbucks. That's enough to sing the blues,but the songs are gone. The Italian neighborhood on Polk and Oakley is trash can fires with dirty needles on the pavement. The Loop looks like Mexico City.

What I remember is when I was a little boy.All those images are very big to me. Pabst Blue Ribbon and Hamm's. I liked the smell,but it tasted awfull. My German uncle would laugh when I spit out a sip.Even that is big in my mind.

So who's that guy in the picture? One of last of the old guard. An old Chicagoan. A Runyon type character.A history piece. A treasure. He saw what I remembered when I was a little boy when he was in his prime and everything to me seemed real big.
"I saw Johnny Saxton fight Basilio,"he said shaking his fist.

Is he putting us on? A little. I was too young to remember all of what I missed. Why should he explain it to me? Pops was there.He knows. So let the younger guys have fun.He sits back and enjoys. Besides I'm not that far away anyway. Guys like him left many footprints in that town. As long as I'm alive those footprints will never be blown away.Where I walk leaves no trace.

Rog, that was as vivid and well put a story as I've read. Man, you got everything down pat. My memories are of growing up on the west side where, as my father would say, everyone was either Irish or Dayyyyyyygoooooo. His 1st car, that he brags on to this day. I think he picked it up in the late '50s, it was a '48 Dodge. Always said it never failed him. My mom said different. She said it never failed until she went into labor. Had to take a cab to the hospital that day. I chuckle at how people today and probably DCFS would bristle at anyone taking a kid into a bar. But I learned to play pool from my Pops in McCauley's, one of the many Irish pubs dotting Chicago Avenue. I recall those halloweens, where every kid could travel several blocks in any direction, come home and empty your swag and then go out with an empty bag for your next shift. Today, parents have armed guards with their kids and only go to houses with resumes posted. Memories I cherish.

Scartissue

Dan, I didnt know you were a West Sider.
We are originally from those parts also. When I was a kid we lived first in Austin and then across the boarder in Oak Park after the neighborhood got bad.
My Wife lived in Austin at Chicago and Lorel near the Police Station before moving to around North and Nagel(Galewood) .
Her uncle owned Grandpas Place tavern on Division st. Remember that joint?
My Dad grew up at Quincy and Cicero. That area is a freakin shooting gallery now. I would say it might be the worst neighborhood in the country now. One of anyway. His mother was a Chicago Cop for 35 years.

[scartissue]

IN OLD CHICAGO

Was born in Chcago. Raised up there. My grandmother's house that used to be her husband's was on the corner of Polk and Oakley Boulevards. Diamond Joe's house. Little Italy.

So how far back do you go to find that safe and happy place? For me it was back there. Back in old Chicago. Cold winters off the lake front. Snapping up those rubber boots. Taking the train into the city with my mother and sisters. Passing slowly by the stock yards. The big Christmas tree inside Marshall Fields. The caverns of the Field Museum. Soldiers Field next door. The Bears were at Wrigley. Halas with that coat and fedora on the sidelines. The Cubs playing baseball in the day. Jack Brickhouse announcing the games. The Cubs were always near the bottom,but Wrigley somehow made it tolerable.

I remember the echoey sound of the big organ at the Chicago Stadium. A Blackhawk game when all the teams were from cold weather cities. Riverview Park and a scary ride on the "Bobs".The Polish neighborhood with the polka music coming out the door. Overcoats and leather shoes.

As everything else, it's different. The change of time has put it in a dream for me. Maxwell Street is an elongated Starbucks. That's enough to sing the blues,but the songs are gone. The Italian neighborhood on Polk and Oakley is trash can fires with dirty needles on the pavement. The Loop looks like Mexico City.

What I remember is when I was a little boy.All those images are very big to me. Pabst Blue Ribbon and Hamm's. I liked the smell,but it tasted awfull. My German uncle would laugh when I spit out a sip.Even that is big in my mind.

So who's that guy in the picture? One of last of the old guard. An old Chicagoan. A Runyon type character.A history piece. A treasure. He saw what I remembered when I was a little boy when he was in his prime and everything to me seemed real big.
"I saw Johnny Saxton fight Basilio,"he said shaking his fist.

Is he putting us on? A little. I was too young to remember all of what I missed. Why should he explain it to me? Pops was there.He knows. So let the younger guys have fun.He sits back and enjoys. Besides I'm not that far away anyway. Guys like him left many footprints in that town. As long as I'm alive those footprints will never be blown away.Where I walk leaves no trace.

Rog, that was as vivid and well put a story as I've read. Man, you got everything down pat. My memories are of growing up on the west side where, as my father would say, everyone was either Irish or Dayyyyyyygoooooo. His 1st car, that he brags on to this day. I think he picked it up in the late '50s, it was a '48 Dodge. Always said it never failed him. My mom said different. She said it never failed until she went into labor. Had to take a cab to the hospital that day. I chuckle at how people today and probably DCFS would bristle at anyone taking a kid into a bar. But I learned to play pool from my Pops in McCauley's, one of the many Irish pubs dotting Chicago Avenue. I recall those halloweens, where every kid could travel several blocks in any direction, come home and empty your swag and then go out with an empty bag for your next shift. Today, parents have armed guards with their kids and only go to houses with resumes posted. Memories I cherish.

Scartissue

Dan, I didnt know you were a West Sider.
We are originally from those parts also. When I was a kid we lived first in Austin and then across the boarder in Oak Park after the neighborhood got bad.
My Wife lived in Austin at Chicago and Lorel near the Police Station before moving to around North and Nagel(Galewood) .
Her uncle owned Grandpas Place tavern on Division st. Remember that joint?
My Dad grew up at Quincy and Cicero. That area is a freakin shooting gallery now. I would say it might be the worst neighborhood in the country now. One of anyway. His mother was a Chicago Cop for 35 years.

Chicago and Lorel?? Oh, man, I was right at Chicago and Leamington. The police station was right at Laramie. That was Our Lady Help of Christians Parish. Moved there from St. Mel's. Small world. Left the west side in '68, moved to Birmingham, England for a year and a half before relocating for good on the southwest side. Thought it was a real treat when Mom would take us all on the "L" to Oak Park to go shopping at that Wieboldt's on Harlem. Too funny.

Scartissue

[kikibalt]

Photos and caption courtesy of Dan Hanley



2009 WBHF inductee, Brian Mitchell of South Africa



Yaqui Lopez, Rafael Herrera and Gil King at the memorabilia show



El Gato Gonzalez mugging for the camera with Michael Carbajal and Gaspar Ortega

[Rick Farris]

Gil King . . .

Did you know that Gil King was robbed in his bout with Armando Muniz!

[Chuck1052]

Rick, congratulations to Monica!

- Chuck Johnston

[Rick Farris]

Ironic . . .

A few years back, a beautiful young woman was introduced to me by a mutual friend.
Our friend knew we had something in common, she was soon to become a professional boxer.

The female boxer's name was Katarina De La Cruz, and we'd often talk about boxing when we'd cross paths.
She had a trainer, but on a couple occasions she and I worked out together at the LAYAC boxing gym at the old Lincoln Heights Jail.
She wasn't being taught well, she'd often jump from trainer-to-trainer. Nobody had much time for a girl who wanted to box.

We pretty much kept our talk to boxing, I wasn't trying to hustle her. I respected what she was attempting in her early 30's.
She was a mother of three kids, 2 teenage sons and a daughter. She was fit, looked ten years younger than her age, had a great energy, positive.
She was studying holistic medicine. She worked as a massage therapist (a legit one) at a Finnish Sauna where I'd gone for years for saunas.
Kat had a tough life, growing up in South L.A. as a young teen, she was jumped into a gang, and fought both guys and girls tooth & nail.
I tried to talk realistically to her about her plans, but I didn't wish to step on her dreams. People should build people, not tear them down.

We talked about women boxers, and I knew she had an idol. I was well aware of her hero, and shared Kat's respect for her.
This was four years ago.

Last Saturday, Katarina's idol, Lucia Rijker, became the first woman boxer ever inducted into the World Boxing Hall of Fame. I had the honor of handing her the bronze statue.
As Lucia gave her acceptance speech, I stood behind her and looked over to a table beside the stage. I saw a familiar face. It was my friend, Katarina. How ironic, I thought.
Katarina's eyes met mine, we both smiled and waved to each other. I remembered our conversations about Lucia, and how she told me Lucia had once given her encouraging words.
I had a copy of Lucia's documentary video, "Shadow Boxers", and loaned it to Kat. Now Lucia, Kat & I are all in the same room, four years later, and history is being made.

I'm glad I got to be a part of it. I'm also glad that Katarina De La Cruz was a part of it.
Like Lucia, Kat has had her challeneges in life, and like her idol, she is a positive, good energy person, with a great spirit.
Again, I find this all so Ironic.



-Rick Farris

[kikibalt]

Photos and caption courtesy of Dan Hanley



Turn my back for one minute and my Pops has started a fight with James 'Bonecrusher' Smith



It looks like George Chuvalo and Emile Griffith were playing around, but Emile lifted George's pen and wouldn't give it back saying it was his. George kept it light but Emile was agitated and George was cool about it, even when Emile started jabbing him with the pen. I piped up, again keeping it light, and said "Emile, I know it's his pen, I was with him when he bought it (which I was)". But Emile turned on me too and said, "You're a liar too!" Fortunately George didn't care and let it blow over.



William Guthrie, Johnny Montes and Orlando DeLaFuente

[Expug]

Gil King . . .

Did you know that Gil King was robbed in his bout with Armando Muniz!

Hey, I see Gil is sporting a tank top.
Hes got them guns on display.
I hope LA got the weather that HE was expecting that day.

[Rick Farris]

Photos and caption courtesy of Dan Hanley



Turn my back for one minute and my Pops has started a fight with James 'Bonecrusher' Smith



It looks like George Chuvalo and Emile Griffith were playing around, but Emile lifted George's pen and wouldn't give it back saying it was his. George kept it light but Emile was agitated and George was cool about it, even when Emile started jabbing him with the pen. I piped up, again keeping it light, and said "Emile, I know it's his pen, I was with him when he bought it (which I was)". But Emile turned on me too and said, "You're a liar too!" Fortunately George didn't care and let it blow over.



William Guthrie, Johnny Montes and Orlando DeLaFuente

Last year Orlando De La Fuente sat at our Boxrec table.
What a great guy. I'm interested in learning more about this family's interesting history in boxing.
Four generations back to one who fought Dempsey.


-Rick Farris

[dagosd2000]

MALOCCHIO

I see where Dundee picked Cotto to beat Pacquiao. If I was Miguel I'd start to worry. Didn't Oscar,when he was training for Manny, invite Angelo to his training camp to get some advice? As Dundee was walking out the door,he gave Oscar a wink.
"You have nothing to worry about son. You're gonna' win easy."

Wow. I remember that fight. The only time Oscar looked good was when he sprinted across the ring ,after he'd been beaten to a pulp, to congradulate Pacquiao in his corner .

So what kind of sign did Dundee give Oscar? The same one for Miguel? There's a name for that sign in Italy. It's called the "malocchio." The evil eye.Dundee is Italian and his ancestors are from the south where people really believe in the "malocchio." If Angelo said I was going to find a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow,I'd be making the Sign Of The Cross.Once someone puts the 'malocchio" on you,you better inquire about your life insurance policy. If you're wearing a horned amulet ,when someone tries to put the curse on you,you're all right. If unprotected,something real bad is gonna' happen soon.

Angelo whispered into Jose Napoles's ear that he could take Carlos Monzon. Ali's message from the dago was that he still had enough to beat Larry Holmes. Ali almost died in that fight.

My motto is to bet the the opposite of what Dundee says. But betting is one thing. Having the curse of the "malocchio"is grounds for indictment.

Miguel,you're in big trouble. You have a spell on you. You're living with the "malocchio." There are ways out of it though. If you're reading this,I'll give you my email. Or you can give me a jingle. You see I know a priest whose specialty is exorcisms.

[raylawpc]

Dundee either managed or trained numerous champion and contenders across five decades including Muhammad Ali, Sugar Ray Leonard, George Foreman, Luis Rodriguez, Willie Pastrano, Ralph Dupas, Jose Napoles, Pinklon Thomas, Carmen Basilio, Trevor Berbick, Jimmy Ellis, Wilfredo Gomez, Michael Nunn and Sugar Ramos.

The man must know a little bit about boxing.

[Rick Farris]

Dundee either managed or trained numerous champion and contenders across five decades including Muhammad Ali, Sugar Ray Leonard, George Foreman, Luis Rodriguez, Willie Pastrano, Ralph Dupas, Jose Napoles, Pinklon Thomas, Carmen Basilio, Trevor Berbick, Jimmy Ellis, Wilfredo Gomez, Michael Nunn and Sugar Ramos.

The man must know a little bit about boxing.

He's a great motivator, and a great PR guy, but it's best he inherit a boxer that somebody else has taught to fight (like Ali, Leonard, Pastrano, Rodriguez, etc.)
Angelo has a rep as a great cornerman, but not a teacher. Leonard would bring him in a few days before a big fight, he'd shmooz the reporters. A master bullshit artist.

[raylawpc]

Dundee either managed or trained numerous champion and contenders across five decades including Muhammad Ali, Sugar Ray Leonard, George Foreman, Luis Rodriguez, Willie Pastrano, Ralph Dupas, Jose Napoles, Pinklon Thomas, Carmen Basilio, Trevor Berbick, Jimmy Ellis, Wilfredo Gomez, Michael Nunn and Sugar Ramos.

The man must know a little bit about boxing.

He's a great motivator, and a great PR guy, but it's best he inherit a boxer that somebody else has taught to fight (like Ali, Leonard, Pastrano, Rodriguez, etc.)
Angelo has a rep as a great cornerman, but not a teacher. Leonard would bring him in a few days before a big fight, he'd shmooz the reporters. A master bullshit artist.

Maybe. But I remember one time saying something disparaging about Dundee in front of O'Grady (not a Dundee fan), who quickly retorted, "You think so? How many world champions have YOU trained lately? . . ."

My point is I would not be so quick to dismiss Dundee's opinion.

[Rick Farris]

Dundee either managed or trained numerous champion and contenders across five decades including Muhammad Ali, Sugar Ray Leonard, George Foreman, Luis Rodriguez, Willie Pastrano, Ralph Dupas, Jose Napoles, Pinklon Thomas, Carmen Basilio, Trevor Berbick, Jimmy Ellis, Wilfredo Gomez, Michael Nunn and Sugar Ramos.

The man must know a little bit about boxing.

He's a great motivator, and a great PR guy, but it's best he inherit a boxer that somebody else has taught to fight (like Ali, Leonard, Pastrano, Rodriguez, etc.)
Angelo has a rep as a great cornerman, but not a teacher. Leonard would bring him in a few days before a big fight, he'd shmooz the reporters. A master bullshit artist.

Maybe. But I remember one time saying something disparaging about Dundee in front of O'Grady (not a Dundee fan), who quickly retorted, "You think so? How many world champions have YOU trained lately? . . ."[/i

My point is I would not be so quick to dismiss Dundee's opinion.

Everybody has a right to an opinion, expecially a man who has spent his life around world class boxers.
My point is he inherited all of the boxers named. Can we think of just one champ or contender that Angelo took from their first day in the gym to the top ten?
Just curious?


-Rick Farris

[Rick Farris]

MALOCCHIO

I see where Dundee picked Cotto to beat Pacquiao. If I was Miguel I'd start to worry. Didn't Oscar,when he was training for Manny, invite Angelo to his training camp to get some advice? As Dundee was walking out the door,he gave Oscar a wink.
"You have nothing to worry about son. You're gonna' win easy."

Wow. I remember that fight. The only time Oscar looked good was when he sprinted across the ring ,after he'd been beaten to a pulp, to congradulate Pacquiao in his corner .

So what kind of sign did Dundee give Oscar? The same one for Miguel? There's a name for that sign in Italy. It's called the "malocchio." The evil eye.Dundee is Italian and his ancestors are from the south where people really believe in the "malocchio." If Angelo said I was going to find a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow,I'd be making the Sign Of The Cross.Once someone puts the 'malocchio" on you,you better inquire about your life insurance policy. If you're wearing a horned amulet ,when someone tries to put the curse on you,you're all right. If unprotected,something real bad is gonna' happen soon.

Angelo whispered into Jose Napoles's ear that he could take Carlos Monzon. Ali's message from the dago was that he still had enough to beat Larry Holmes. Ali almost died in that fight.

My motto is to bet the the opposite of what Dundee says. But betting is one thing. Having the curse of the "malocchio"is grounds for indictment.

Miguel,you're in big trouble. You have a spell on you. You're living with the "malocchio." There are ways out of it though. If you're reading this,I'll give you my email. Or you can give me a jingle. You see I know a priest whose specialty is exorcisms.

The Kiss of Death . . .

Rog . . . Your post about Dundee brought to mind something Johnny Flores told me back in the mid-60's.
Flores said that the Brown Bomber's predictions usually put a curse on the boxer he chose to win.
"IF Louis picked you to win, it was like the "kiss of death."
Joe Louis rarely picked a winner.


-Rick Farris

[raylawpc]

He's a great motivator, and a great PR guy, but it's best he inherit a boxer that somebody else has taught to fight (like Ali, Leonard, Pastrano, Rodriguez, etc.)
Angelo has a rep as a great cornerman, but not a teacher. Leonard would bring him in a few days before a big fight, he'd shmooz the reporters. A master bullshit artist.

Maybe. But I remember one time saying something disparaging about Dundee in front of O'Grady (not a Dundee fan), who quickly retorted, "You think so? How many world champions have YOU trained lately? . . ."[/i

My point is I would not be so quick to dismiss Dundee's opinion.

Everybody has a right to an opinion, expecially a man who has spent his life around world class boxers.
My point is he inherited all of the boxers named. Can we think of just one champ or contender that Angelo took from their first day in the gym to the top ten?
Just curious?


-Rick Farris

As I recall, Dundee had Leonard from his first day as a pro. He was with Ali from very early on in his pro career. And, he took over Luis Rodriguez' career soon after Luis fled Cuba to the USA.

But, even so, doesn't it say that much more about his knowledge and ability as a boxing guy that experienced guys like Napoles, Foreman, et al. turned to Dundee later in their careers? I mean, they had their choice of trainers, and they picked Dundee.

[Rick Farris]

As I recall, Dundee had Leonard from his first day as a pro. He was with Ali from very early on in his pro career. And, he took over Luis Rodriguez' career soon after Luis fled Cuba to the USA.

But, even so, doesn't it say that much more about his knowledge and ability as a boxing guy that experienced guys like Napoles, Foreman, et al. turned to Dundee later in their careers? I mean, they had their choice of trainers, and they picked Dundee.
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Dundee was brought in to work Leonard's corner, he didn't not work with him on style or boxing "tricks of the trade". Leonard has always credited Janks Morton for that.
Dundee was the last guy in camp. You know of course Leonard paid Angelo a flat rate. For the Hagler fight, Leonard paid him $120,000 for flying in a few days before the fight to work his corner. Angelo has value, but not as a teacher. Everybody knew that, even Pat O'Grady.

With Ali it was different. Again, Angelo had a boxer that he didn't have to teach. How could anybody teach the style that Ali used?
The Cubans? Again prefabricated products. Dundee was a great corner guy, known for being organized.
Put Dundee with a guy who knew how to box and was willing to fight, and he could do what he did best without having to get his hands too dirty.
Angelo is a great guy, but like Joe Goossen, couldn't teach a cat to crap in the box. That's a pretty well known fact.
Joe Goossen took three men from their first pro fight to world titles (and two he started their first day in the gym.) That is something Dundee never accomplished.
No cut on Angelo Dundee, but I have yet to see or hear a world champ credit Dundee for teaching him how box, punch, duck, or anything.
Angelo works the politics pretty good, he can credit his older brother Chris for setting him up in boxing.


-Rick Farris

[kikibalt]

When Sugar Ray Leonard turned pro. He hired attorney Mike Trainer as his business manager and Dundee as his boxing manager. But he kept Janks Morton and Dave Jacobs as his boxing trainers, Morton and Jacobs did all the training and Dundee would come into camp a week or two before the fight.....