Classic American West Coast Boxing

[Randyman]

The Furniture Warehouse

After the San Diego Coliseum closed its doors for boxing,the owner's son converted the insides into a furniture warehouse. Jerome's Furniture has several large stores in San Diego.The warehouse downtown is also a store. The area is still pretty run down. The revamped Gas Lamp District didn't reach that far. The area around the warehouse is bleak and full of the homeless. But if you want to get a break on the price of a sofa,you can take a ride downtown and save a little money.

Awhile back I walked inside the place to see if any footprints were left. If you didn't know that it was once a boxing arena,you wouldn't have a clue. Oh there's some photographs of Archie Moore and Ken Norton on a wall. They seem out of place. I asked the kid working behind the desk if he knew that the warehouse was once an arena that showcased some of the best boxing talent in the Southland.
"Oh yeah. I heard they used to have boxing here once,"he said as he was writing up an invoice.
"You still have some old photographs hanging,"I said trying to stir up a conversation.
"They say these guys fought here."
"I remember seeing Kenny Norton begin his career here."
The kid pulled out a calculator.
"I even worked out with Norton a few times,"I said stiil trying to pique some interest.
The kid was fooling around with the buttons of the calculator.He hadn't looked up at me.
"Excuse me,"he said."What did you say?"
"I was commenting on the photograph of Ken Norton."
"Oh yeah,which guy is that?"

Charley Norkus, a top heavyweight back in the 50's (when heavyweights were monsters) fought there.
Ruben Navarro fought his last fight there.
I fought my last fight there.
Our pal Randy de La O fought there.
Some of the greatest fighters in the history of boxing fought there.
Some of us saw it as a dump for dead-enders. A graveyard for LA headliners.
But that was just arrogance, a hint of youthful ego realizing that we actually couldn't fill the shoes of legends who headlined in days gone by.
Call it what you want. We called it the San Diego Coliseum. Today it's a furniture outlet.
Maybe our memories are deader than Casey's nuts. But today I realize I cashed out my few chips in the right place.
Beginning my career at the Olympic first time out was perfect. Ending it at the S.D. Coliseum was equally so.

-Rick Farris, retired prizefighter.

Nice piece of writing Rick. I might want to add that hometown legend and California Athletic Great Charlie Powell, got his retribution of victory over my father in 1958 before his home crowd here. Both combatents were under new management since they last met in 1954. Thinking that a sell-out of the non-televised rematch was a cinch, it turned out not to be at the final bell. The sparse crowd showed their admiration for Powell greatly at the conclusion of his victorious Decision win just a few days before Christmas.

Like so many of these Civic Centers, Auditoriums and Arenas of old boxing cities across America; they all hold old memories of the thankful of bygone eras. With the flash in the pants boxers today, the ungrateful who rather rant or brag about who's girlfriend is dating who, instead of what skills or, rather lack thereof they have and bring to the ring- maybe you hit it on the head Rick. Let these sleeping Giants lie. Punch Stats. Bull crap. Maligianni -900 punches thrown- everyone a pillow.

Fight Night at the San Diego Coliseum

The old arena has always been a good memory for me, now, knowing that Charley Norkus fought there, it means even more. Thanks Rog, Charley and Rog, for sharing your memories.

[Randyman]

Speaking of the San Diego Coliseum, this is where I learned about NOT blowing your nose after a fight. After fighting a draw with Nacho Cota, Mel and I walked back to the dressing room and I got undressed and headed toward the shower. As I did Mel says to me "Don't blow your nose"! "Okay"! I answered back. I walked into the shower and I thought about what he said, "Don't blow your nose'! I wished he would have told me why! My nose felt plugged and I wanted to blow it. Again I thought about it but it didn't make any sense to me. "Why the heck couldn't I blow my nose"!

"He won't know" I thought, and I blew, and hard too. Immediately I felt hard pressure around my eyes, not so much pain but heavy pressure. My entire face had that feeling you get when you take niacin. I walked out of the shower and Mel takes one look at me and says "Son of a bitch, you blew your nose! Didn't I tell you not to blow your nose!" "Yeah But..." "How did he know?" Mel walks me over to a mirror on the wall and that's when I learned the answer to my question, "Why can't I blow my nose" Both my eyes were swollen to the size of a baseball, my eyes were like slits but it didn't bother my vision any.

When I got home it looked like I got beat bad. Sometimes it's better to say nothing because even the truths sounds like an excuse. I know this: If I ever tell a kid not to blow his nose, I'm going to tell him why!!

[Randyman]

Robert DeNiro in Raging Bull

[Randyman]

The Reek of Cologne

Burke Emery would have his fighters working out in morning at the Coliseum. After they were finished,in came the wrestlers.Sometimes I'd work out with the fighters or just go to watch. But sometimes I'd stick around and watch the wrestlers go through their routines after the fighters had gone. Some of them would arrive together.Grapplers like Freddie Blassie and Mr. Moto,who would be adversaries on the mat,would walk in wearing their Hawaiian shirts, open down the front, laughing and having a good time.They'd use the same locker room as the fighters. The locker room was small and spotted with mold. There were always leaky pipes that would spew water under the door. The plumbing hadn't been replaced since they built the place back in the 30's.It was covered with crud.The lockers were dented and rusty.But it was like all the guys who used that locker room realized that that was the way it was and didn't complain.It was apropos with the building. The only thing that started a beef was if something was missing,and that was a human condition.

After rehearsing their routines ,that they would use on Friday night,the wrestlers would go back sweaty and smelly to that locker room. I think the problem was that locker room never got a break from all the men that used it. It probably needed to be power washed and then disenfected with DDT and Lysol.

But here was the thing that got me. After someone finished dressing,he'd often douse himself with massive quantities of cologne and fly out the door. One time I was standing near the door when Freddie Blassie exited. The smell blasted my nostrils.Tears came to my eyes. No matter how much cologne saturated the air,you still couldn't mask the odor.Smelling all that perfume only made you realize how bad the stink was in that place.

Rog, I'm trying to remember if the dressing room stunk or not. maybe I was just used to the smell because the dressing room. shower area at the Main Street Gym could be horrifically odorous at times. But as you said we just accepted it as the way it was, no complaints.

[El Gallo]

The Reek of Cologne

Burke Emery would have his fighters working out in morning at the Coliseum. After they were finished,in came the wrestlers.Sometimes I'd work out with the fighters or just go to watch. But sometimes I'd stick around and watch the wrestlers go through their routines after the fighters had gone. Some of them would arrive together.Grapplers like Freddie Blassie and Mr. Moto,who would be adversaries on the mat,would walk in wearing their Hawaiian shirts, open down the front, laughing and having a good time.They'd use the same locker room as the fighters. The locker room was small and spotted with mold. There were always leaky pipes that would spew water under the door. The plumbing hadn't been replaced since they built the place back in the 30's.It was covered with crud.The lockers were dented and rusty.But it was like all the guys who used that locker room realized that that was the way it was and didn't complain.It was apropos with the building. The only thing that started a beef was if something was missing,and that was a human condition.

After rehearsing their routines ,that they would use on Friday night,the wrestlers would go back sweaty and smelly to that locker room. I think the problem was that locker room never got a break from all the men that used it. It probably needed to be power washed and then disenfected with DDT and Lysol.

But here was the thing that got me. After someone finished dressing,he'd often douse himself with massive quantities of cologne and fly out the door. One time I was standing near the door when Freddie Blassie exited. The smell blasted my nostrils.Tears came to my eyes. No matter how much cologne saturated the air,you still couldn't mask the odor.Smelling all that perfume only made you realize how bad the stink was in that place.

Rog, I'm trying to remember if the dressing room stunk or not. maybe I was just used to the smell because the dressing room. shower area at the Main Street Gym could be horrifically odorous at times. But as you said we just accepted it as the way it was, no complaints.

I don't recall the Coliseum's dressing rooms smelling bad, but we were crowded into to small rooms with a couple benches. Some fighters are quiet, some get talkative in the dressing rooms. I stayed quiet, liked to relax before stretching and getting warmed up. I was very calm in the dressing room, but at the Coliseum there was a guy fighting in a ten rounder that must have been scared, cuz all he did was talk. I wanted to tell him to "Shut the f*ck up!" but I wasn't that way at the time (today I would say something). So I just laid back and listened to his nonsense. The problem at the Coliseum when I fought there was the shower, which was a plumber's nightmare, stalls built (not to code) that would flood when the drain got stopped up. After my fight, when I left the ring and walked up the aisle, I saw water cascading down the steps like little waterfalls. The shower had flooded and the water followed a path all the way down to the ring! Classic! FAT CITY.

[dagosd2000]

Distant Cousin

"Primo, is it true that you were controlled by organized crime during your career?"asked the reporter as he shoved the microphone into the big man's face.
"I no come here to talk about dat. I come here to wrestle The Destroyer dis Friday night."
It surprised me to see Primo Carnera,the old ex heavyweight champion, on television. He was being interviewed before his match with local "villain" The Destroyer.
"Isn't it true that most of your fights were fixed by the mob in order for you to fight for the championship?"
"I here to wrestle Destroyer.No talk about boxing."
I wondered how many times Primo Carnera was asked those same questions.Like he was going to come clean with his past with some jerkwater announcer from San Diego.

Primo looked old and sad. His weighty flesh hung on his chest. Dark bags sagged under his eyes. He was sick from diabetes.He was trying to sell himself to the public. He was trying to make a living. There was nobody around to take care of things. They had used him for cannon fodder and now he was fending for himself.

It was the early 60's. I had heard that the Italian giant was a wrestler.I always thought of him being a distant figure back east. And that was a vision of a man in black and white a long time ago. Primo Carnera was a fighter the boxing world wanted to forget. A clown. A puppet. A pathetic man taken of advantage of. Wrestling was suited for him. That was fake. Sure,there were plenty of faked boxing matches,but Carnera looked the fool and the heavyweight champion of the world should not take on that persona.

Those movies like Requiem For A heavyweight and The Harder They Fall starred Carnera in absentia. When heavyweight champions are discussed for their prowness,Da Preem never gets a call.Like I said,his name is an embarrassment on the rollcall of heavyweight champions.What kind of heavyweight champion has a nickname like "The Ambling Alp"?

But I liked the guy. Maybe because he was Italian. I liked him more than Al Capone who's often looked upon as a cult hero. Carnera gave up wrestling I found out after his finale at the old San Diego Coliseum. It seemed a fitting place to disappear. The old building was the last exit for a lot of fighters and wrestlers.

Carnera's health problems from diabetes,alcoholism,and cirrhosis of the liver counted him out a few years later. Somehow there's something poignant about all this.



Primo Carnera

[Johnnybgde]

The Baltazar's and the Velasquez's. Poncho's mom and dad, Dolores and Pablo.
C..the late 1960's

Frank . . . You, Connie & the kids were one of the best looking families in L.A.

-Rick

Thank you Rick, you're very kind.

Ran across this photo of my Uncle Pablo and Aunt Dolores Velasquez , very cool to see this , My uncle Pablo was in many Movies over the years in the extras guild -And my Aunt Dolores very sweet woman also commercials and extra work -- Thanks for posting -PEACE

[dagosd2000]

Limp Noodles

Since we've had our house in Mexico and have traveled in Europe,I've found an interest in soccer. In America we call it soccer. The rest of the world calls the game football. But Americans know the only football is the U.S. kind.It's a tougher game than soccer. But I don't buy all that.Soccer (I'll refer to the game as that from now on)is a game played artfully and skillfully.I especially get into the enthusiasm countries have for their national teams. When they play in international competion, sometimes it's the only time the country comes together in these times of economic strife.

Since my blood is infused with garlic and olive oil,I've been following the Italian national team,the Azzuri. Now that name always suggested to me terror and aggression.But as far as I have discoverd the name means "blue" in English. Blue is the color of the Italian team's jerseys.

The Azzuri has been ranked among the elite teams in the world. They've won 5 World Cups(only Brazil can match this record).But I do have a bone to pick. The Italian soccer players are known for flopping on the ground from the slightest contact. They squirm on the grass holding their heads sceaming like they've been shot with Weatherby. This isn't very macho for a land whose men think they are irresistable to the opposite sex. I wonder what Italian women think when these guys go through their contortion acts? It sickens me to watch it.

I often try to equate this theater with Italian/Amercan athletes,especially fighters. I think of how much punishment Marciano,LaMotta,and Basilio absorbed in the ring. What would have happened if one of the Azzuri got hit with a Robinson left hook?They'd have to give the guy the last rites right there on the pitch.

Italian/Americans are a different breed than Italian nationals. Italians think of Italian/Americans as Americans. Just like Mexican nationals think of Chicanos as Americans. Marciano,LaMotta,Basilio never fought in Italy. De La Hoya never fought in Mexico.If there would have been a big enough interest it would have happened.

Italians don't define themselves with a hyphen seperating the names. Only in the U.S. do you see that. I'm always saying I'm Italian/American .Maybe I should rethink that.

But imagine if Marciano,LaMotta,and Basilio's ancestors hadn't come across on the boat?Think if these guys would have played soccer?I don't think you'd see them rolling around on the ground crying because they were pushed.

[dagosd2000]

Gotta Get Up

I saw George Foreman talking to a reporter about his boxing career. He told about the depression he endured after his loss to Ali.He laments never getting up to beat the count in Zaire. He'll always live that.

George has done the transformation since. In a nutshell,he can laugh at himself. He can laugh period. Foreman was a bully. He said that he had wanted to kill a man in the ring. Sonny Liston was his idol. Foreman emulated himself after Liston. Liston was another bully.You can make a case for Tyson being a bully. A bully is scared inside. He hopes he can scare you without being tested. But if the bully's opponent stands up to him,then he unravels. And he unravels fast.

Foreman said the most important fight of his life was with Ron Lyle. We saw Lyle put him Foreman down,we thought we'd see a copy of Zaire. Instead Big George got up. It was Lyle lying crumpled in the corner of the ring at the end. George had been tested again and this time he aced the exam.

When Liston was dropped by Ali(I guess?)and when he was smashed by Leotis Martin he was out flat. The bully had been exposed.(I'm not supposed to be lying face down on the canvas) When Tyson was flattened by Douglas and Lewis that was it.No one is that big and mean.At least you weren't.

I'm happy that Foreman is happy about getting off the canvas against Ron Lyle. He says Lyle was the hardest puncher he ever faced. I'm sure George expressed that to him before he passed away.

Ron Lyle,if you can hear me,you did more for George Foreman than any shrink could have imagined. Rest in Peace.



The late Ron Lyle

[dagosd2000]

You Tell Me Your Dream And I'll Tell You Mine

I don't know how many times I've seen a guy walk into a boxing gym and think he's going to go right in there and kick everyone's ass. I remember this kid when I was teaching school near the border. He was around 18 years old and kept telling me he wanted to be a fighter and that he had all the right stuff.He was a white kid,fair skin,and blond hair. His father was in the Navy and wasn't around much. The kid's name was Jerry and was in my class because he was behind in credits. My class was for the kids that needed to catch up because they had missed too much school.

Jerry was a stocky kid . He wasn't fat and liked to exercise(so he told me). Sizing him up it didn't look like he was abusing his body with drugs or alcohol. Maybe some pot on the weekend ,if that.

I told him I'd line him up to get some training at Junior Robles's Gym in National City that was up the freeway about 5 miles. I took him in and introduced him around.He told Junior that he wanted to be a fighter and his idle was Muhammad Ali. Junior Robles gave him a pass to workout .

Boxing gyms are some of the most unsympathetic places around. You may get encouragement at the start,but if you are hesitant about fighting another man in the squared circle,you'll find yourself being on the outside looking in. There's no time for a psychological transformation. However,if you know what you're getting yourself into and accept it then the coterie of fighters(good and bad)will embrace you even if you're not too good .

Jerry found out fast that he couldn't talk the talk. First tip off was when he asked me why everyone in the gym was Mexican and black. Junior Robles had him do some conditioning at first and I could see then the cracks in Jerry's armor. He'd drop out of the exercises to rest or drink water. Junior would ride his ass at first,but after seeing this habit a few times Jerry was on Junior's pay no mind list.

Iremember watching Jerry spar for the first time. He was put in there with a tall black kid. They were both around 160 pounds,but the black kid was a head taller. The black kid had no amateur experience like Jerry,but the black kid had been in the gym about six monthe longer .

Junior Robles was grooming the black kid to turn amateur. The black kid didn't care who was put in front of him in the gym. When Jerry climbed through the ropes he looked like a lab rat being put in with a rattlesnake. Jerry's headgear was over his eyes and he stood in the corner of the ring slowly moving his legs up and down. This is what he wanted.Now the reality was setting in.

After three minutes Junior told Jerry to hit the showers. Jerry was afraid to throw any punches with mean intentions and tried his darnest to avoid getting too close to the black kid. It was hard to watch.

I vowed I wouldn't go to Robles's Gym to find out how Jerry was doing. If Jerry wanted a word of encouragement from me, I wasn't offering any. It wasn't long after that that Jerry came into class to tell me that he was moving to Maryland. His father was being transferred. In a way I was relieved. I don't think Jerry went to Maryland and told anyone that wanted to be a fighter.

[dagosd2000]

Two Ton Tony Galento

[BoxBuzz]

Dagos...are you creating these in real time? Or are these past projects? I'm referring to your artwork now.

[dagosd2000]

Dagos...are you creating these in real time? Or are these past projects? I'm referring to your artwork now.

About 60/40. Two Ton Tony was done a few years ago. Ron Lyle I painted Sunday.Since I rejoined the thread less than a year ago I've posted over 100 new paintings. They are usually posted a day after they're painted.

BTW.They are all for sale if anyone is interested.Also if anyone is interested in me painting a certain fighter(or anyone else)request the image,I'll paint it ,and then post it. If it satisfies,I'll sell it. 250 dollars.I'll pay for the frame and shipping charges. Paintings are 16"x 20". Oil on canvas or cardboard panel.

[dagosd2000]

The Power Of Influence

Frank Rustich was the referee for the first Ali/Norton fight in San Diego.When Muhammad Ali's fights are examined,his name is always put before his opponent's even if Ali lost. It's always Ali/Frazier or Ali/Holmes or Ali/Spinks. Anyway I asked Frank Rustich about the Norton/Ali fight in San Diego.My father knew Frank. Getting back to this Italian thing,Frank was a paisan and so my father and Frank became connected. That's how I got to know Frank.One day I saw Frank getting a haircut at Harry Bianconi's barber shop at the LaJolla Shores.
"Frank ,"I asked him,"Did you ever think of stopping the fight in the last round?"
"No,there was too much money riding on it,"he replied kind of mumbling.
"For the last 40 seconds Ali wasn't fighting back,"I said.
"I wasn't going to end it."
"I've seen refs stop fights for a lot less."
"There were people at ringside who had a lot of influence on what was happening."
"You mean the mob?"
"Just people who had a lot of influence."
"The Nation of Islam?"
"All I can say was that there were some very influential people in that arena."
I figure that was as far as I was going to get with Frank.

Frank Rustich also umpired many youth sporting events in the San Diego area. I believe he was the head of youth officiating in the San Diego high school section. I remembered one game he reffed when I was playing in a high school football game. It was one of those defensice battles.In other words a boring game to watch. Our team and our opponent tried to grind it out on the ground all night.There was no score going into the fourth quarter. We had the ball in their red zone. We ran a belly keeper. Our quarteback made a great fake to our back diving into the line and then he pulled the ball out and ran around the end untouched for a touchdown. We figured that would be it,but fate was against us. Frank had gone for the fake and blew his whistle. Now I was in on the play and didn't hear nothing.Even our opponent was standing there wondering what had just happened. That day in Harry's Barber Shop,I also asked Frank about that play.
"Frank,remember when you blew that whistle against us in the Saints game?"
"Yeah. I remember,"he faintly replied.
"What the hell happened?"
"There were some very influential people sitting in the stands,"he said winking at me.

[dagosd2000]

Luis Firpo

[dagosd2000]

Firecrackers

We were in Mexico City,the wife and myself,when I saw the fight on TV. Lupe Pintor was going to defend his bantamweight title against Welshman Johnny Owen. My wife wanted to visit her sister in capital so we were staying in her apartment in Colonia Zaragoza,a fairly upper end district that was directly across the street from the city's Ciudad Deportiva,a conglomorate of various sport venues.

My wife's sister's husband sat in the livingroom with me to watch the fight being broadcast on Mexico's Televisa.He was slender and tall with dark wavy hair.He thought he was irresitable.But what I couldn't stand was that he always had this cat that swallowed the canary look on his face.The guy was an arrogant prick. One of these know it all Chilangos that was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He had a degree from the big university in the city and ran his mother's factory that made uniforms for school kids,nurses,cops,and the what like. He was also a big mucky muck in the PRI which was running everything politically in Mexico at the time. I couldn't stand his know it all attitude about everything. He'd tell me what was wrong with United States,yet the dude had never been to the U.S.

I remember when the broadcast of the fight began. The fight was in the Olympic Auditorium in Los Angeles. Johnny Owen entered the ring first. I looked at him and thought this guy better know what he's doing.He was straight up and down,skin white as buttermilk,and ears that stuck out like dumbo ready to take off in flight. If you've ever been to the Olympic Auditorium when a Mexican national is fighting anyone who isn't a Mexican national,the atmosphere can be scary. Scary for the opponent and his entourage.The crowd is almost all Mexican. And it doesn't matter if there are Chicanos at ringside. Everyone who has Mexican blood in them is thinking I'm 100% Mexican tonight.

I saw Davey Moore in Tijuana jump out of the ring at the Tijuana bullring after he stopped local hero Kid Irapuato. Moore didn't even get his gloves off. He jumped out of the ring with his handlers,robe thrown over his head,and hailed a taxi to the border.

I remember Hedgemon Lewis getting bombed with bottles and chairs when he massacred Raul Rodriguez,the Mexican welter champ,at the Jai Palace. Lewis's friends including Ryan O'Neal and various blond girlfriends were running right behind Hedgemon as he wound up on the sidewalk.

The night Johnny Owen took on Lupe Pintor, the Olympic was packed to the doors. The crowd was right on top of the ring. I don't know if it was the way Owen looked to the crowd,but you could sense that the atmosphere was tense.They wanted to get this guy.

The fight began and Owen went right in on Pintor. The Welshman wasn't afraid.But instead of gaining respect from the crowd for his bravery,the crowd became incensed.They wanted Pintor to break him.They didn't want to see a guy like Owen get the better of a compadre.Out boxing him and hitting him against the ropes.

The crowd was screaming and yelling and everytime Pintor landed and fought back the noise got louder. I could hear the firecrackers going off. It was back and forth,slugging constantly,neither fighter wanting the other to know it was time for a clinch.

Owen's body was covered with welts. You could feel as the fight wore into the late rounds that Johnny was getting tired. He looked so frail,but man that kid had guts. He wasn't going to show that crowd that he didn't have what it takes.

In the 9th round Lupe dropped him with a right hand.I thought that Johnny might fold after that knockdown,but he didn't.He drew deep down with everything that was left in him. The crowd was going crazy.The noise was deafening. But Owen was in there for the next two rounds. But in the 12th Lupe dropped him again with the right hand. Owen got up. He looked very tired. His jaw hung open .He was breathing heavy. The referee waved him on.Owen moved forward. There was an exchange and Pintor clipped him with the right and Owen fell flat on his back. I remember the Mexican announcer saying that he fell like he was dead. Owen's people jumped into the ring.They were pelted by debris. Owen was inconscious,but I don't think anyone knew that he'd never wake up.

After the fight my sister's husband remarked that he was glad that Pintor had won the fight,but he thought that boxing was for people who didn't have enough smarts to do anything else with their lives. After he said that I broke wind loud and clear. I told him it must have been something I ate.




Johnny Owen

[dagosd2000]

Pay Me

"Remember when they started to put the big fights on those movie screens?",I asked Ed the bartender.
"I remember it started with Patterson,"said Ed.
I was sitting on my usual stool at the far end of Champ's Bar. It was the afternoon. Small crowd.The TV was on with the sound off.
"That was the first time I went down to the Fox Theater.Patterson 's first fight with Liston,"I said.
"I saw that too,"said Ed."It was an adventure when the image came on the screen."
"Sometimes the picture wasn't that clear."
"In some places the projector didn't work."
I looked at the TV.ESPN Sports Center was on. I didn't want to ask Ed to turn up the volume.
"Putting those fights in the theaters started the demise of the local arenas,"I said.
"I was sore to spend money to watch that first Liston/Patterson fight,"he said.
"I thought that would kill boxing."
"And then they do it again for the second fight."
"Did you pay to watch that one?",I asked.
"Yeah,I sure did."
"Me too."
"Then it was the two Clay/Liston fights."
"Did you watch those two stinkers?"I asked.
"Yeah,I paid for it."
"Me too."
"Now all these big fights are on pay TV."
"Do you pay to watch them?"
"I haven't in many years,"said Ed."I know sooner or later I'll see it somewhere."
"I don't pay to watch them either."
"I guess the promotors know they can get top dollar by putting them on pay TV."
"Depends where the market is,"I said. "In my wife's hometown in Michoacan the big fights are shown for free."
"That will change when they put in cable."
"They're starting to do that now,"I said.
"Then they'll start charging for it,"said Ed.
Ed went over to the TV behind the bar and turned up the volume a little.
"I remember when I told my father that I was going to the theater to watch the first Liston/Patterson fight,"I said.
"What did he say?"
"He said it ain't worth it."

[dagosd2000]

Floyd Patterson

[dagosd2000]

I Wouldn't Bet On It

Everytime I went with my wife to visit her sister in Mexico City,I would take in the fights at La Arena Coliseo. It's the equivilant of Madison Square Garden in the United States. El Coliseo is in an old section of the city near the Plaza Garibaldi.It's been more than 20 years since I've been there.My sister in law doesn't live in Mexico City any longer.At least the sister my wife liked to visit. She has another sister living in Tepito,but my wife is not interested in seeing her.

From what I hear, the area around the Coliseo has gotten pretty bad. When I frequented the place ,I was cautious,but I didn't feel particularly afraid. But I was younger then and still in my prime. I don't know how I'd take it in today. I know this. If I went back to D.F. I wouldn't have the urge to take in the fights.

Inside the arena is straight up.Four floors in a circle that look right down on the ring.There are signs all over the place that say that there's no gambling allowed.Everywhere you look people are betting .The cops look the other way. They've probably already put down their bets.

I don't see any big fights coming out of that venue anymore. There's probably the wrestling matches still.One fight I saw there was a tuneup fight involving Mantequilla Napoles. It was my first time in the Coliseo.It was my first time in Mexico City. I was with my brother in law. I felt that I was in boxing heaven for the aficianados..

My brother in law was with me for the ride. He wasn't that interested in boxing. I was paying so he didn't care.I was inerested. Napoles was my favorite fighter and I was anxious to see him regain the title from Billy Backus. But I could understand the tuneup. Napoles wanted the fight in front of a traditional crowd.The opponent was a journyman who would give Jose some good work. The opponent was Manuel Gonzalez who'd fought some good boys in his time.Curtis Cokes and Emile Griffith,fighters that he had beaten in his long career.

At that time Jose Napoles was still in his prime. He had lost to Backus on a cut in Backus's hometown. Napoles's cut problem was beginning to give him problems and eventually this condition would worsen.But there was no way Gonzalez would trim Jose. At least I thought. I'm sure there would be no bets against Napoles that night.

From the opening bell the fight was slow. Napoles was a very fast starter,but that night he didn't look like he wanted to impose his will . The rounds were tedious. Napoles had that herky jerky motion as always.He looked his smooth self,but he lacked aggressiveness.He didn't throw much. Gonzalez was in there,but didn't show anyhing that looked like he was going to threaten.

I kept thinking that Napoles would suddenly open up and finish it,but there was no indication. For the first time that I could remember I heard the chifles coming from the crowd. The whistles that told the fighters that they were needed to pick it up.And those noises were directed at Napoles. I was beginning to let down. Maybe Jose was going through this dance to build up his wind,get the decision,and get ready for Backus again. But then it happened. Napoles manuevered Gonzalez into a corner. Jose let go a left hook. It hit Gonzalez's side. Manny looked at Jose for an instant and then plopped to the canvas. The traditional Mexican 'golpe" to the liver ended it. The crowd went crazy. It was in the bag all the time. It was what everyone knew what would happen.

All I can say is I didn't bet on it.



Mantequilla Napoles

[dagosd2000]

A Lost Art

"So who is the heavyweight champion?"asked Ollie.
"Klitschko,"answered Clyde.
It was lunch break at the shipyard.The two men were opening their lunch pails and unwrapping their sandwiches.They put their thermoses next to the sandwiches.
"Isn't there two of them?"asked Ollie.
"Yes."
"Well, which one is the champ?"
"I think they both are?"
"How can there be two champs?"asked Ollie as he poured his coffee into his mug.
"I don't know. It's all confusing,"answered Clyde.
"I remember when the best heavyweights were Americans. With the exception of Johanssen,the champs were all American."
"How about Lewis?"
"I started to lose interest in boxing after Lewis."
"I don't get it,"said Clyde."The heavyweight champion was always recognized as being American."
"Not anymore."
"It's like the sport has become like soccer. The best fighters are from somewhere else."
"For a long time the big three sports were baseball,horse racing,and boxing,"said Olllie as he bit into his sandwich.
"That was before my time.It's a different story now. This UFC has taken over."
"I don't like it. It's too crude."
"Yeah.I know what you mean,"said Clyde pouring more coffee into his mug.
"I can't even name a American heavyweight today."
"When was the last time a heavyweight title fight was in the U.S.?"
There was no answer. Both men continued eating their sandwiches and drinking their coffee.
"You know something Ollie?"asked Clyde as he put his sandwich wrapper his bag."If they put boxing back in the schools as a part of physical education,I bet the interest in the sport would grow."
"With all the violence we have in this country now,I don't see it happening."

[dagosd2000]

Vladamir Klitschko

[dagosd2000]

The Meek Shall Inherit

I wrote about Kiko before. He's distantly related to my wife Maria. He was born with something wrong with him. Around Jiquilpan people would just tap their heads with a finger to express that Kiko wasn't all there. I'd see him hanging around the Guadalupe church in the morning.If I was in my car and I saw him,I'd drive him down the hill into town.Most of the time I'd see him walking. He'd sit on the bench in the park and talk to everyone that walked by.People would always greet him.Someone would always buy him a taco. He wouldn't say thank you. He was not being rude. He just wasn't all there. Kind of simple.

He wore the same blue and red jacket everyday even in August when the heat was sweltering. His clothes were dirty and he smelled. He always smiled when he talked.His teeth were crooked and stained. He'd ask me questions like if my wife was here or when did you get here and when are you leaving. He wouldn't ask for anything. Not a ride down the hill or a taco. He never said thank you.

Sometimes he'd tell me that his brother died. His brother died a long time ago. The last time I went to Jiquilpan,they said that his mother had died and that Kiko was living with his sister. Kiko never said anything about his mother dying to me.Only that his brother had died.

I remember Kiko at my mother in law's wake. Her casket was in the "sala". Everyone in the neighborhood came by to give their last respects and say goodby. I remember Kiko sobbing uncontrollably. He was devasted. I'd never seen him like that before. The next day after the cemetary I saw Kiko in town. I offered to bring him up the hill in my car. He didn't mention anything about the funeral of my mother in law,but he did tell me that his brother had died.

I don't know if it is a Mexican thing or not,but people like Kiko are looked at like one of God's children in Mexico. I've never seen anyone that is different like Kiko be ridiculed or disrespected. I'd see people drive by Kiko and shout out the window,"Como estas primo Kiko?"(How are you doing cousin Kiko?)

During the week my wife calls Jiquilpan to see how things are going. The latest gossip.Sometimes they call my wife. The other night my wife came into the bedroom to tell me she had just finished talking to her sister in law. My wife told me that Kiko had died. I turned down the volume of the television.
"What happened?"I asked.
My mind stopped.I couldn't comprehend it.
"It happen very fast,"said my wife."Kiko get pain in stomach.They take him to hospital and he die next day."
"That's awfull. I can't believe it."
"Now there is no more Kiko",said my wife.

I thouight about Kiko all night and the next day. I'll always think of him.Popping up from inside the church.Kiko smiling at me saying"Rogelio."Just "Rogelio." I'd be driving him down into town and he'd tell me that his brother had died. I'd give him some pesos. He'd grab them and get out of the car to sit on the bench in the park. Now, often when I think of that I start to get emotional.



Kiko

[El Gallo]

I Wouldn't Bet On It

Everytime I went with my wife to visit her sister in Mexico City,I would take in the fights at La Arena Coliseo. It's the equivilant of Madison Square Garden in the United States. El Coliseo is in an old section of the city near the Plaza Garibaldi.It's been more than 20 years since I've been there.My sister in law doesn't live in Mexico City any longer.At least the sister my wife liked to visit. She has another sister living in Tepito,but my wife is not interested in seeing her.

From what I hear, the area around the Coliseo has gotten pretty bad. When I frequented the place ,I was cautious,but I didn't feel particularly afraid. But I was younger then and still in my prime. I don't know how I'd take it in today. I know this. If I went back to D.F. I wouldn't have the urge to take in the fights.

Inside the arena is straight up.Four floors in a circle that look right down on the ring.There are signs all over the place that say that there's no gambling allowed.Everywhere you look people are betting .The cops look the other way. They've probably already put down their bets.

I don't see any big fights coming out of that venue anymore. There's probably the wrestling matches still.One fight I saw there was a tuneup fight involving Mantequilla Napoles. It was my first time in the Coliseo.It was my first time in Mexico City. I was with my brother in law. I felt that I was in boxing heaven for the aficianados..

My brother in law was with me for the ride. He wasn't that interested in boxing. I was paying so he didn't care.I was inerested. Napoles was my favorite fighter and I was anxious to see him regain the title from Billy Backus. But I could understand the tuneup. Napoles wanted the fight in front of a traditional crowd.The opponent was a journyman who would give Jose some good work. The opponent was Manuel Gonzalez who'd fought some good boys in his time.Curtis Cokes and Emile Griffith,fighters that he had beaten in his long career.

At that time Jose Napoles was still in his prime. He had lost to Backus on a cut in Backus's hometown. Napoles's cut problem was beginning to give him problems and eventually this condition would worsen.But there was no way Gonzalez would trim Jose. At least I thought. I'm sure there would be no bets against Napoles that night.

From the opening bell the fight was slow. Napoles was a very fast starter,but that night he didn't look like he wanted to impose his will . The rounds were tedious. Napoles had that herky jerky motion as always.He looked his smooth self,but he lacked aggressiveness.He didn't throw much. Gonzalez was in there,but didn't show anyhing that looked like he was going to threaten.

I kept thinking that Napoles would suddenly open up and finish it,but there was no indication. For the first time that I could remember I heard the chifles coming from the crowd. The whistles that told the fighters that they were needed to pick it up.And those noises were directed at Napoles. I was beginning to let down. Maybe Jose was going through this dance to build up his wind,get the decision,and get ready for Backus again. But then it happened. Napoles manuevered Gonzalez into a corner. Jose let go a left hook. It hit Gonzalez's side. Manny looked at Jose for an instant and then plopped to the canvas. The traditional Mexican 'golpe" to the liver ended it. The crowd went crazy. It was in the bag all the time. It was what everyone knew what would happen.

All I can say is I didn't bet on it.



Mantequilla Napoles

This is a beautiful portrait! Rog, you really captured Mantequilla.

[dagosd2000]

I Wouldn't Bet On It

Everytime I went with my wife to visit her sister in Mexico City,I would take in the fights at La Arena Coliseo. It's the equivilant of Madison Square Garden in the United States. El Coliseo is in an old section of the city near the Plaza Garibaldi.It's been more than 20 years since I've been there.My sister in law doesn't live in Mexico City any longer.At least the sister my wife liked to visit. She has another sister living in Tepito,but my wife is not interested in seeing her.

From what I hear, the area around the Coliseo has gotten pretty bad. When I frequented the place ,I was cautious,but I didn't feel particularly afraid. But I was younger then and still in my prime. I don't know how I'd take it in today. I know this. If I went back to D.F. I wouldn't have the urge to take in the fights.

Inside the arena is straight up.Four floors in a circle that look right down on the ring.There are signs all over the place that say that there's no gambling allowed.Everywhere you look people are betting .The cops look the other way. They've probably already put down their bets.

I don't see any big fights coming out of that venue anymore. There's probably the wrestling matches still.One fight I saw there was a tuneup fight involving Mantequilla Napoles. It was my first time in the Coliseo.It was my first time in Mexico City. I was with my brother in law. I felt that I was in boxing heaven for the aficianados..

My brother in law was with me for the ride. He wasn't that interested in boxing. I was paying so he didn't care.I was inerested. Napoles was my favorite fighter and I was anxious to see him regain the title from Billy Backus. But I could understand the tuneup. Napoles wanted the fight in front of a traditional crowd.The opponent was a journyman who would give Jose some good work. The opponent was Manuel Gonzalez who'd fought some good boys in his time.Curtis Cokes and Emile Griffith,fighters that he had beaten in his long career.

At that time Jose Napoles was still in his prime. He had lost to Backus on a cut in Backus's hometown. Napoles's cut problem was beginning to give him problems and eventually this condition would worsen.But there was no way Gonzalez would trim Jose. At least I thought. I'm sure there would be no bets against Napoles that night.

From the opening bell the fight was slow. Napoles was a very fast starter,but that night he didn't look like he wanted to impose his will . The rounds were tedious. Napoles had that herky jerky motion as always.He looked his smooth self,but he lacked aggressiveness.He didn't throw much. Gonzalez was in there,but didn't show anyhing that looked like he was going to threaten.

I kept thinking that Napoles would suddenly open up and finish it,but there was no indication. For the first time that I could remember I heard the chifles coming from the crowd. The whistles that told the fighters that they were needed to pick it up.And those noises were directed at Napoles. I was beginning to let down. Maybe Jose was going through this dance to build up his wind,get the decision,and get ready for Backus again. But then it happened. Napoles manuevered Gonzalez into a corner. Jose let go a left hook. It hit Gonzalez's side. Manny looked at Jose for an instant and then plopped to the canvas. The traditional Mexican 'golpe" to the liver ended it. The crowd went crazy. It was in the bag all the time. It was what everyone knew what would happen.

All I can say is I didn't bet on it.



Mantequilla Napoles

This is a beautiful portrait! Rog, you really captured Mantequilla.

Thanks Rick

[El Gallo]

Two Ton Tony Galento