Classic American West Coast Boxing

[dagosd2000]

He Also Shocked The World

I belong to that group that thinks Norton beat Ali all three times they fought. Thus, I think Norton was a better fighter than Muhammad Ali. Now before you start clicking the "reply with a quote" icon,let me explain. First of all I never cared for Ken Norton that much. I've rehashed the times when I was volunteered to get in there with Norton at the gym because Kenny needed someone to spar with. This was very early in Norton's career,but to compare Norton's stuff with what I brought to the table was a big joke. I knew nothing about how to box.. I couldn't back down,but I figured Norton wouldn't be too rough on me Before the seconds could finish saying "time" Norton had busted my nose. He began hammering me and all I could think of was to duck down low. Well his people had to jump in there and stop him before he killed me. I kind of thought that's what he had in mind. After that episode,I hated Ken Norton. Today,I can say I never liked him.It's been a long time since that happened,and Norton is gone now.

When they put the first Ali/Norton match together in San Diego,I couldn't wait to see Ali take Norton apart. I watched Ali train(if you could call it that).I knew he wasn't in top condition except for his confidence level. Norton would workout after Ali was done. Norton worked his tail off.But if nothing else,Ali's name would psyche Norton out. Norton,previously,had had stamina issues. He'd hit the wall,with anyone who could last 6 rounds with him,.But his opponents weren't exactly household names. Finally, in Los Angeles a tall Venezuelan by the name of Jose Luis Garcia knocked out a spent Norton cold in 8 rounds. I couldn't say "I told you so" enough times.


After that fight Norton began consulting a hypnotist who called himself Dr. Dean.His name in total was Dean Ezell. He had an act at The Chuckwagon Restaurant on Midway Drive.He'd ask for people to come up on stage so he could put them under and then make them look foolish. Regis Philbin, who got his start in San Diego, would introduce Dr. Dean's act. Anyway, Norton was telling everyone that he had some sort of mental block and that Dr. Dean was curing him of running out of gas half way through his fights. The sessions seemed to be doing some good. Norton ran off a string of 12 straight wins,but again,his foes didn't exactly scare the top contenders in the division. I'm not even positive if Norton was ranked in the top 10 heavyweights when the first Ali match was made.

But getting to the fight.What I saw, I thought I was dreaming.A flat footed lethargic Ali ,and Norton moving ponderously with that left held low and every time Ali would throw one it never phased Norton so Norton would throw one back and just kept moving in.It was a slow fight. Ali looked sick. He showed nothing. In the last round near the bell Ali couldn't answer back with anything. If he hadn't been Muhammad Ali,most refs might have stopped it. Somewhere in the the 12 rounds Norton had busted Ali's jaw. That shut him up. I couldn't believe it. Ali,getting beat by Ken Norton in San Diego and Ali having the side of his face looking like he had a terminal case of the mumps.

That fight threw a monkey wrench into Ali's shot with Foreman.So there had to be a rematch with Norton before life could continue for Muhammad. The second go was at The Forum in LA.Me and just about everybody else figured Ali would take this guy serious the next time. And Ali did. He trained hard. He knew if he lost again his legacy would be something like Frazier's:he couldn't beat Foreman.For Muhammad it would be Kenny Norton who had him sized up. Ali would have to concede he couldn't beat Ken Norton! And look how Foreman brushed Norton aside.

I wanted to make sure I had things right before the next fight. I had a pencil and paper to score the rounds. It started off good for Ali. You could see he was in better shape. I had the first 6 rounds in Ali's favor.Then Ali began looking like the pre Dr. Dean Norton. He was running out of petrol. As much as I didn't want to, I had Norton winning the last 6 rounds. So 6 and 6 is a draw. Not in my book. If you finish strong like Norton did,you won the fight.There was a lot of controversy about that fight. If you were part of the Ali idolization throng,Ali won(I bet a lot of those guys had their fingers crossed behind their backs when saying that).So now there's got to be a fight number 3. Who would have thought it would get to that point?


I think by this time Ali was hoping that Norton would be hypnotized by Dr. Dean to be turned into a ballet dancer.Fight 3 is in the Apple at the biggest venue in town,Yankee Stadium. The judges scored it unanimously for Muhammad. Ali won with his name. He lost.He knew it,but to have him drop out of boxing at that time would have put the heavyweight picture in the shredder. The world was back in its rightful orbit again. The "Prophet" ,like Bundini Brown liked to call him,still had his following in a happy place.


So getting back to what I said at the top of the page. Yes,Ken Norton was a better fighter than Muhammad Ali. Too bad Norton never fought Cassius Clay. He would have mopped the floor with him-and made me very happy.



Muhammad Ali

[dagosd2000]

Taking A Little Off The Top

Just off the top of my head:Before World War II boxing was a lot more popular than it is taday.Many high schools offered boxing as part of their physical education programs. Before there were magaizines like Sports Illustarted,the Sporting News was the main rag for the fans. News articles on baseball,boxing,and the nags filled the pages.Just about every burg in the country had an arena that featured a weekly card.A boxing gym was as common as the corner drugstore.There was no Little League. Pop Warner football would come along until the 1960's. The basketball world was centered in New York City. College football was bigger than the pros. The Sporting News had it right. They knew what the fans were focused on.Today,a pure boxing gym is a rarity. The gyms today that offer contact sports have to have on their menus all the Asian methods of fighting or they couldn't keep their doors open.I remember when I was a kid if you kicked somebody in a fight your were thought of as a chicken s--t.

I saw Luis Rodriguez in San Diego train for his fight against Mexican middleweight champ Rafael Gutierrez at the Stardust Hotel in Mission Valley. One of Louie's sparring partners was a a pretty fair fighter by the name of Charlie "Bad News" Austin. I heard Austin say that when he went to Argentina to fight Carlos Monzon that they weighed Monzon on "his" scale. Austin was alluding that Monzon probably weighed above the 160 middleweight limit. Jose Napoles came down from LA to take in Rodriguez's fight at the San Sports Arena. The Cuban fighters that were forced to leave Cuba ,if they wanted to earn a living with boxing, kept close with each other.


A couple of years ago I was telling you that I went up to the Forum in LA to watch the undefeated Roman Gonzalez fight a good Mexican fighter,Carlos Cuadras,for the super flyweight title. Gonzalez won pretty handily. There was a lot of talk,including words from my mouth,that Gonzalez was the best P4P guy in boxing.He was undefeated in the amateurs and had never lost any of his pro fights. He was on the cusp of being a household name in the sport. New York wanted to showcase his talents and so he was matched with this Wangek fella' from Thailand. He had lost four fights. On the surface it looked like another win for Roman. Gonzalez reminded me a little of Willie Pep . He was ,to use the cliché,the complete fighter- a beautiful boxer. But Gonzalez met his "Sandy Saddler" that night in New York. Like Saddler,Wangek was a southpaw. He threw punches from all angles.He was strong.Gonzalez looked all out of wack.He couldn't put much together and disappointed, losing the decision. A lot of his following thought it was a fluke.In the rematch Gonzalez would get his revenge. But the second fight in Los Angeles was a disaster for Gonzalez. Wangek knew he had him.In the first fight Wangek established his confidenceI,doubts had crept into the mind of Roman.I think Gonzalez knew early that he was in deep water again. Wangek knocked him out cold. Call it what you want,but I don't think Gonzalez can ever beat Wangek, if he doesn't let go of the rope. It was like Saddler's hold over Pep. Pep, the master boxer,couldn't hang in there with the unorthodox and strong Sandy. I know Gonzalez had a fight recently (he was on the Canelo/ GGG undercard). He looked good,but he will have to fight Wangek again to validate his legacy.I don't know what he can do to beat this guy.

Jimmy Rosette was a common face at the San Diego Coliseum during the 60's and 70's. .He fought as a middleweight,but had a lot of fights with boys that outweighed him by 10 to 15 pounds. He wasn't a big puncher,but he was always on call for the promoters who needed someone to fill up a card. He fought a lot at the Silver Slipper in Las Vegas. He was a pretty good amateur fighter and represented the country in Tokyo at the Olympic Games. He went into the Navy and stayed in San Diego after his discharge. I used to see him train at the 32nd Street Naval Gym in National City. Everyone knew him, I saw him beat "Bad News" Austin at the Coliseum in a very fast fight winning a split decision.



Roman Gonzalez

[dagosd2000]

And Now For The Real Painter Of Champions

Awhile back Rick Farris,who's now the president and founder of The West Coast Boxing Hall of Fame,used to call me "El Pintor De Los Campeones."(The Painter of Champions) He'd say that when he used to post on the forum. He'd say that when he hosted a ceremony for the fighters in the LA area. When he was involved with the World Boxing Hall of Fame he used one of my paintings for the cover art for the program. Often,I'd bring along some of my paintings of fighters and try to make a buck or two. A buck for me and a buck to raise some money for whatever organization that allowed me to show my art. More often than not,I'd give most of my stuff away,usually to one of the fighters in attendance.


When I began my painting,it was kind of on a whim. I was going to Tijuana to have an artist, that worked in one of the arcades on Revolution Street ,to paint some images I would bring to him.They were pictures mostly of athletes. He transcribed the images on slabs of onyx .He was very good.I wished that I could paint.But I had this weird notion that because I had small hands I would be inept with any attempt to paint anything. Something like I couldn't control the brush.Then One day I showed that TJ artist a picture of my father in his fatigues on Okinawa during WW II.It was a very small black and white photograph. When I returned the following week for the finished work,he ruefully admitted that the image was too small for him to paint it honestly.. I went home empty handed. But I did want this image of my father very badly-so I made a stab at it! I have to say that my technique is a little unorthodox . I rest the canvas on my lap and hold the brush like I'm writing with a pencil. I squeeze the paint from the tube directly onto the brush. I toiled for several hours trying to capture the face of my father(at that time I used tiles).After several hours I held up the tile.By golly,it looked like my dad. I was hooked from then on. I never went back to TJ. I was on a personal quest to show the world that a new genesis artist had arrived.


In the beginning,I believed that I had a unique style-a combination of the primitive and the surreal.I never had a lesson. That was unique. I wasn't influenced by someone else. I thought my stuff would sell like hotcakes.I joined an artist's guild and I immediately submitted a painting of the jazz alto sax player,Charlie Parker. The jurists voted it in and displayed the painting right at the front door of the gallery. It sold for 5 grand. My first painting on exhibit and I had a check for 5 G's! There was no stopping me now. I knew I had it. My name would be drawn in the same breath as Picasso and Van Gogh.

Well,to make a long story short,that was 20 years ago, I've never even come close to selling another one of my paintings for another 5 G's.I was naïve to believe that I could make a living selling my paintings. After 20 years I've probably spent more money on supplies,framing,and shipping that what I've salted away in the bank.


There was a time I got depressed over what was happening(and that was nothing).I thought people were dumb and didn't know what good art was. (good art was my art)It had to be that I was cursed.And by the way,I thought there was a brotherhood among artists. WRONG. They are mostly back biters who believe that their stuff belongs in The Louvre. But then I realized that I was a carbon copy of my peers.I stepped back,took a long breath,and admitted that my paintings would never be hanging beside The Mona Lisa.


I'm a weekend painter that's all. Did you know that there are more artists in the U.S. than the total population of Europe during The Renaissance?My grandchildren think I'm fantastic. I've even inspired a few people to take up painting as a hobby-like me. Painting now is a hobby. I'm good with that. I know when to defer And now I'd like to defer to a real artist.

Jun Aquino is an artist from the Philippines. He's very well known in his country.He caught Rick Farris's eye a few years ago. Jun painted some outstanding images of countryman,Manny Paquiao. Jun has offered to display his paintings at every West Coast Boxing Hall of Fame ceremony each year, Jun paints the images of the fighters who are being inducted. He gives the fighters(or the fighters' families)the paintings for free after the ceremony concludes. The only thing that Jun requests is help with his art supplies. There is no other boxing institution in the world that has a coup like The West Coast Boxing Hall of Fame each year displaying these beautiful paintings and then having them presented appropriately.


Al I can say is that I wish I had a little of Jun's talent



Jun Aquino-he's a real knockout

[dagosd2000]

Down From The Mountain

I remember I was still working, so it had to be over ten years ago. It was one of those fights they would show in the late afternoons on the weekends on one of the ESPN channels. I didn't have it checked off on my agenda. I wasn't anticipating it. I had scrolled the menu on my TV and saw that there was a fight scheduled. I saw that it was a fight between two Mexicans with the last name of Diaz-Julio and Juan. They both had versions of a lightweight title. The two were matched in Chicago.There are a lot of Mexicans living in The Windy City. It was the first time either kid had fought in the state of Illinois.


I would see how it went. If the fight lacked action,I'd have switched channels to something else. I don't care if it's The Super Bowl,The World Cup,or The Heavyweight Championship of The World. If it's a stinker I won't watch it. But these two boys came out serious. Maybe it was because both were Mexican and they wanted to prove who was the most macho. Maybe they both wanted to hold onto their belts.It was probably both. I'd never heard of either kid before.The announcers didn't say there was any bad blood between them,but when the opening gong sounded ,like I said, both boys got serious. I didn't care who won. All I wanted to see was a good fight,and I was being treated to some fast action.


As the fight developed ,I could see that Juan Diaz was the stronger one. His nickname I found out was "The Baby Bull." Julio Diaz was in there trading swats with "The Baby Bull."I don't know if Julio knew any defensive tactics,but I could see if he tried to stay away a little instead of trading blows,the mostly Mexican fans would consider "The Baby Bull" the most macho guy That's how it works in Mexico. You've heard that saying,"He fights like Mexican."Julio wasn't going to take a step back. By the middle rounds Julio was taking a lot of hard shots. It didn't look like he could hold on much longer. Then one of the announces interjected that Julio Diaz was born in Mexico,that he was born in Paredones,Michoacan. That's where my wife was born. The announcer went on to say that Julio's family moved to California when Julio was just a little kid and now made the Sunshine State his permanent address.


Paredones is a " ranchita "on top of a mountain overlooking the town of Jiquilpan.My wife and her mother and nine brothers and sisters were born on a little ranch in that far away dot on the map. In fact I've never seen "Paredones" on any map.The little ranch's floor was dirt.They had to draw their water from a well. The village had no electricity.No telephones. The family's transportation consisted of one horse they had named "Colorado." They grew corn and garbanzo beans and rode "Colorado" down the mountain to Jiquillpan to sell the husked corn and peeled garbanzos.. Sometimes there would be four or five siblings atop "Colorado's" back. There was no road. No trail.They had to wind their way down the mountain on that old horse's back if they wanted to get to Jiquilpan. My wife told me that on a good day they would sell five dollars worth of beans and corn.They lived about like everyone else.


After I learned that Julio Diaz was a native son of Paredones,I wanted him to somehow rally and beat the other Diaz But "The Baby Bull" proved to be too strong. The fight ended in a TKO. Julio gave it everything he had,but I could see he wasn't in the Pacquiao or Juan Manual Marquez league. I didn't follow his career after that fight. I went to the BoxRec archives before writing this piece and saw that his last fight was in 2014. He was stopped by Keith Thurman. He had over 60 fights. I hope he held on to some of his dough and that he'll have his health for a long time.

When I went down to Jiquilpan soon after that fight,I asked around town if anyone had heard of Julio Diaz. No one had ever heard of him. I told them that he was born in Paredones. Still no positive responses. My wife and I and some of the family drove up the mountain to Paredones. The main purpose of the visit was to see my wife's Godmother.She was over 100 years old at the time. I asked around ,of who was left residing in that little place,and again all I got was blank looks.. No one had ever heard of Julio Diaz.



I haven't been back to Pardones in five years. Those little out of the way ranchitas are being left abandoned. There can't be more than a dozen people left.They are exposed to crime.They are ripe prey. Bandits raid those villages unimpeded. There's no cops. You often hear of bodies being discovered inside a house,everything taken,no pursuit by the authorities. The terror and fear was the final push to make people leave. Go anywhere where there is some work and protection. And that isn't any place near Paredones.


Trump talks about a wall. Well,there is an invisible wall. To get immigrated to the United States legally,a person has to put up between 10 and 12 thousand dollars for fees and lawyers and then wait for his appointment at the U.S. embassy. Or he can pay a "coyote" the money and hope the smuggler doesn't leave him in the desert without any water. And if he makes it,he's still an illegal.

My wife. Julio Diaz. I know they feel for the Mexican people.They will never get their Mexicaness out of their blood,Besides they will always want to keep that template.It's still their identity. But they also know that they are glad they are living in The United States.



Paredones

[dagosd2000]

The Historian

"Why I didn't know that,"said "The Heat".
"Yes,Stanley Ketchel was killed by a jealous boyfriend,"I repeated.
James "The Heat "Kinchen was wearing his collar and new suit as he was waiting to stand at the podium to deliver his sermon to the congregation at The Helping Hand of God Church in Southeast San Diego.
"You say that Stanley Ketchel was a great middleweight champion?"
"Some say he was the best."
James was proud of his new suit. The other ministers were teasing him about his new set of clothes.James still looked like he could make the scales at his fighting weight. He hadn't aged much.His skin was fresh and his eyes were alive. What always stuck out for me was his big thick hands.He looked wiry and his movements were quick. I'm sure if anything went down,he'd react with sudden purpose.Inside the church James was always very animated.His faith, he said, had turned his life around. Just about every sentence ended with an "amen" or "Praise the Lord."I was happy that he was happy. I had seen Kinchen fight several times in San Diego. When i was working for The County of San Diego,I remember spotting him one day. i was in the big spray rig out in the foothills in the East County. It was very cold and I saw James wearing a bright red sweat suit running up Sunrise Highway.He was training for his fight with Tommy Hearns. Just as I was to pass him a herd of deer ran out in front of my truck and Kinchen I thought it was all over for all of us, including a few deer.
"When did he fight?"continued James with a serious look.
"He fought in the early part of the 20th century."
"You don't say. That's amazing. Way back then.Praise the Lord!"
James was still looking at me intently. I felt that he wanted me to add something else.
"He also fought Jack Johnson,"I said.
"The black heavyweight champion?"
"Yes."
"That's amazing.Who won?"
"Well, it was supposed to be an exhibition,but Ketchel crossed him up and knocked Jack Johnon down."
"What happened then?"Kinchen asked moving a bit closer.
"Well,Johnson thought they might stop it right there and lose his title so he got up right away and knocked Ketchel out cold."
"You don't say. Praise the Lord.I never knew that."
I felt good that I could inform James about something that occurred in boxing history. I thought that I could rub shoulders with him,at least at that moment. James looked up at the podium. The Reverend motioned for James to begin his sermon.
"Roger,when it's over I'll come back and tell you about how me and a lot of other fighters wouldn't train with Aaron Pryor. The word was out that Panama Lewis was loading up his gloves and had him on the juice."
James moved quickly towards the podium. I sat there open mouthed. Amen.



Stanley Ketchel

[dagosd2000]

A Hard Track

I never went overboard for horse racing. Those top notch thoroughbreds like Secretariat are a thrill to watch,but most of the nags that circle the oval have no business being run. To keep some of them going their trainers shoot them up with needles full of painkillers and stimulants.But for the those betting junkies there's nothing more exciting than to see their nag making his turn into the stretch and having the jock whip him to the wire.

My first taste of going to the track was watching the nags run at Caliente in Tijuana. Looking back,it was a venue for cruelty to animals.A lot of those horses were over ten years old. Some had never won a race. They had claiming races for a thousand bucks. For that paltry sum you could have a candidate for the glue factory. There weren't any big stakes races at Caliente. Most of the races were 6 furlongs. If you looked up the fastest times for the various distances,Caliente had some world records. But that was because they kept the track hard. Horses can run faster on a hard track,but that only will break them down quicker. I know there were a lot of nags at Caliente that didn't want to run full out because they couldn't.But if the track wanted to stay open they needed nags. The best thoroughbreds were running up at Del Mar and Santa Anita. So they put the suffering at the starting gates at Caliente. They'd turn in a decent time but that was because of the hard track, and that only expedited their trip to the glue factory.


Boxing has a hard track..There was a time when they didn't use gloves. Mouth guards were for sissies.A protective cup for the paranoid. Fighters fought sick. The once great Joe Gans was straddled between the ropes vomiting blood because of his tuberculosis and Battling Nelson's blows. Sam Langford fought half of his career blind in one eye. Brave Billy Miske was fed to Jack Dempsey. Miske was dying of Bright's Disease and needed the money for his family. He was dead three months later. At least Dempsey didn't let it go beyond three rounds.And speaking of Dempsey,he probably more than anyone,necessitated that a fighter go to a neutral corner after scoring a knockdown.

Catchers around the turn of the century didn't wear masks. I remember Gump Worsley,the goalkeeper for the Canadians, didn't wear a mask. (He was the last goalkeeper to brave that for 60 minutes).Hockey players also all have to wear helmets today.Footbal players have to don regulation helmets. It's the head that focuses the most attention on an athletes safety.

Boxing safety has taken some precautions over the years. Fights aren't scheduled for over 12 rounds.Most of the bottom ring ropes have extra padding.Some state commissions won't allow a fighter who has been knocked out to return to the ring in that state for 30 days and has to have a brain scan.So the Ko'd fighter goes to fight in a another state. But there's nothing out there that's going to protect a fighter's head unless they make them wear a football helmet.Now for the boxing promoters that would certainly cause a loss of ticket sales. The evolution to MMA has drawn a lot of the attention away from boxing. But boxing will stay around.It's not so dirty as MMA.It's more pleasing to the eye for the aesthetic. But to get hit by a punch by a professional fighter is probably the most serious contact dealt by one athlete to another. Headgears don't absorb the concussion of a blow. Headgears prevent cutting mostly.

My father had a couple of fighters when we were living in Chicago. I don't recall their names. They didn't go very far. My father said that after they lost two in a row,he let them go. Too bad there aren't some better rules about preventing some of these fighters to continue with the sport. I've seen my share of broken down nags and broken down fighters. They both run on a hard track.


Joe Gans

[dagosd2000]

Corned Beef With Oil And Vinegar

I never knew that my father was connected to the Mob until I was 18 years old. I never knew that my grandfather,Diamond Joe Esposito, was gunned down a half block from his house walking , flanked by his bodyguards, by a hail of shotgun slugs.The assassins jumped from the car,the bodyguards fell flat on the pavement leaving my grandfather standing there to meet his doom.

I remember when I was a kid in Chicago that on the weekends, if we weren't either visiting someone on my mother's side of the family,it was a relative on my father's side. But sometimes we'd visit some of my father's friends .I remember the names:Giancana,LaPorte,Accardo. The men would sit around the living room telling stories while us kids would be playing outside or in the game room.The women would be in the kitchen cooking up a pasta dish,a big antipasto,and a bowl of sausage and peppers,Just before dinner was served,one of the kids would be sent to the bakery to get a couple of loaves of hot Italian bread.The meals varied,but the routine never did.

Sometimes I'd try to listen in on what those guys sitting in the living room were talking about. Most of the talk was nothing serious. Everyone was Italian so a lot of focus was one something paisan. I didn't know who these guys were.They grew up together,hung out in the pool room,went to the track.It was a steady crew.It never changed much.There weren't any outsiders.i remember guys with nicknames:Johnny HaircutJackie The Lackey,and Handsome Johnny.Their voices were loud and bravado full.They knew everything and if they said something that sounded disgusting it was all right if they did it.


One afternoon I overheard those guys talk about a fight in Chicago back in the day way before they were strutting their stuff. Someone brought up the fight between Joe Gans and Terry McGovern. Now I'd never heard of those two fighters. At that time Rocky Marciano was the only fighter that I could say some things about. When he beat Louis I think the Pope bought him pizza.

Anyway ,they're laughing about how Gans went in the tank against McGovern and that the Mustache Petes made a killing with the bookmakers. Then that topic led to how they could pull strings with a lot of the fights in Chicago. The light heavyweight Bob Satterfield co operated. If he didn't he wouldn't fight. Like Gans,Satterfield flopped against LaMotta. (HA HA HA.We cleaned up on that one!).They said Satterfield could have been the champ if they'd let him go.But Satterfield was black. Joe Louis and Ray Robinson were allowed to fight on the level(Robinson would carry fighters in Chicago for The Outfit).There were other good black fighters around,but all they were let to do was mostly fight each other.

Years later when my father finally let me in on some stuff,I asked him about that time in Uncle Sam Giancana's living room when they were conversing about Gans laying down in Chicago.
"You remember that time?"asked my father with a guffaw.
"So did those Mustache Petes fix that fight?"
"No,"answered my father as he put his hand on my shoulder."The Jews put that together."



Two of my boyhood heros.

[dagosd2000]

The Monster Of The Midway

I played football in high school with a big bruising guy by the name of Leonard DeSanti. We were the only two Italians on the squad. We used to joke about all "paddy's" on the team. There was no real problem with our teammates,but being Italian we'd get a laugh about all the "paddy's" idiosyncrsaies. Like they didn't know what good food was.They lived in houses that lent an aura of coldness and sterility. They were unemotional and weird. We thought a lot of the other players were either latent homosexuals or closet gays.And because they were more white than everyone else,they thought their poop didn't stink.But most of this banter was for the sake of making a joke.We were 16 years old.


After me and Big Len finished up with our exploits on the high school gridiron,I went to a small college to play more football. The Division I schools thought I was too slow to play with the Notre Dame's and USC's. Big Len was as slow as I was,but they didn't call him "Big Len" because he had a "Big Len" below his beltline. Leonard was 6 foot 5 and when he stepped on one of those scales thought gave you your fortune,the slip of paper would say"Please only one person at a time".He got a scholarship to go to San Diego State University. He started on the D line on those very successful Don Coryell teams before Coryell went to the NFL.

After my college football career faded into oblivion,Len got picked in the NFL draft. This was 1967. Leonard went pretty low. By the time they got to the round where they announced his name,most people had turned off their TV sets. The New Orleans Saints,the new expansion team,was willing to give Leonard a look.

Pre season camp was, in all places, at the college where my name was never mentioned in the local papers after a game. The school was located in the same neighborhood where we lived in the Point Loma area of San Diego. I never figured out why the New Orleans Saints would hold their camp at a school overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

I made it a point to go out and watch practice to see if Leonard could earn on spot on the roster. Like I said,the Saints were an expansion team. It was a group consisting of old ex pros from other teams,players that had recurring injuries,and big kids like Len.I'm not sure ,but I don't think The Saints won a game their first year. Archie Manning ,the father of Peyton and Eli,was the QB. He spent most of his playing time looking up at the sky after releasing the ball. If he got a pass off it was an accomplishment.If he completed one it was a miracle.

One of the Saints players was a hero to me when I was a kid, living and breathing my essence with The Monsters Of The Midway,The Chicago Bears. The guy's name was Doug Atkins. He was a big 'ol southern boy from Tennessee U.He was one of the most brutal forces on the field.He played defensive end. The Bears were noted for playing dirty and Atkins fit their mold. He'd club guys,hurdle over them,and give a running back a dig to the eye with his thumb after mauling him like a big bear to the turf Gee,I loved that guy.He was my favorite Bear,but I never thought of putting "Teddy" in front of the word "Bear."

When Doug Atkins hooked up with New Orleans he was still in his prime. He played in Chicago for one of the biggest tightwad owners of all time,George Halas. Mike Ditka who played on those Chicago teams said that Halas threw silver dollars around like they were manhole covers. So when Atkin's contract was up for renewal,Halas threw him a manhole cover. Atkins signed with The Saints.

I had to go down on the field and meet Doug Atkins. After one practice I went down to the field to introduce myself with Leonard's help. Leonard was standing next to Atkins ,and Atkins dwarfed him.Fitted in al that gear he was the scariest dude I'd ever seen. I told him that I grew up in Chicago and he was my favorite Chicago Bear and that he was the meanest and that he was the biggest and baddest Bear ever. Atkins took off his helmet.He had strong high cheekbones and deep eyes. He leaned over and smiled a bit.
"Son" he said with that slow Southern drawl,"there was one guy on that team I never messed with. In fact no one did."
"Who was that?"I wondered.
"Remember Rick Casares?"
"Sure. The fullback."
"Well he was a championship Golden Gloves fighter.He wanted to turn pro but his mother didn't want him to be a fighter.So he played football."


Atkins turned to go back to the locker room. Leonard followed close behind. I stood there thinking. I was not good enough to make a Division I team. Later in the evening Leonard had gotten a visit by "The Turk" and told to clear out his locker.Then Doug Atkins said he didn't want to mess with Rick Casares. I decided to go to the beach with my surfboard and find a small enough wave that wouldn't drown me.



Jim Thorpe.Voted the greatest athlete of the first half of the 20th century.

[dagosd2000]

Hard Luck Rounds

Ronnie Wilson lost three times to Mike Quarry. Wilson was half of that duo of Canadian fighters that established a base in San Diego.Art Hafey,the tough featherweight ,was also a Canadian who became a familiar face at The San Diego Coliseum.Another Canadian,ex Canadian lightheavyweight champ Burke Emery,trained both fighters. Sid Flaherty was managing Wilson at the time. Flaherty was handling Denny Moyer also. Flaherty thought it would be a wise move to bring Moyer down to San Diego to calm Ronnie down.Ronnie couldn't control his drinking. Neither could Moyer. Flaherty's plan backfired.


When Ronnie Wilson began his fighting career in the Southland,he was gaining a following,especially in San Diego. Ronnie was a beautiful boxer.His feet were in rhythm.He could jump the left hand into an opponent's face nicely. In the early going he was showing a lot of promise. I used to see him at the gym.He was married at the time.One evening on a card at the Scottish Rites Center in San Diego he introduced me to his wife who was holding their baby son.Ronnie was handsome.a lock of blond hair, shy,and soft spoken. His wife ,holding their infant son,the picture pretty looked like something out of a Disney movie.

They billed Wilson as "Irish Ronnie Wilson".I bought that,but Wilson wasn't Begarin anymore than Angelo Dundee was from the land of Loch Lomond.But having that moniker just enhanced his popularity. He was sailing along with 20 straight wins with a couple of draws.But Flaherty and Emery were putting Wilson out there too much. He had 20 scraps in 1968 before he lost his first fight against Terry Lee.After his loss to Lee he fought another nine bouts in 1968.Wilso would beat a guy like Floyd Casey with no hitch,and then he'd see Casey again two weeks later and beat him again without breaking a sweat. It was during this period when Wilson paper thin skin around his eyes began coming apart. If you have a fighter who's a bleeder you can't be putting him the ring with two weeks rest. His cuts never healed properly .After losing to Lee,he'd get in there and have to cope with blood streaming into his eyes. He began losing,not dramatically,but with the cuts,his successive appearances in the ring,his frequency of bending his elbow at the local watering holes,and a wife who was worrying herself to death,the light at the end of the tunnel was an incoming freight train. The locomotive's name was Roger Rouse. Rouse broke Ronnie's jaw. Instead of Flaherty taking a time out with Wilson he was fighting again in 4 months. But it was the same old song. He beat a good Andy Heilman and with that win he was in line to fight Mike Quarry.Carlos Salinas opened one of Ronnie's cuts,but the matcmakers saw a potential in a Mike Quarry/Ronnie Wilson fight

Mike Quarry was undefeated,Jerry's little brother,and was the LA guy.Ronnie was struggling to stay in contention,had no brother that was a fighter,and was the San Diego guy. Bob Foster was the lightheavy champ during this period where there weren't a lot world class 174 pounders. It was like there was one of the all time great lightheavyweights,Bob Foster,and then the competition dropped off into an abyss. The first Quarry/Wilson fight was staged in Orange County at The Valley View Music Center. The money boys wanted a fight with Mike against Foster.Ronnie ,by the way,didn't have that one punch knockout power. Since he fought on his toes,he didn't sit on his punches.I felt if the fight went the distance that the judges would favor Quarry.


I thought the fight was close. The judges awarded the decision to Quarry. I thought they had it right.The fight was in February. Wilson had another three more fight before the rematch in May. This time the margin of victory was wider. Wilson was a tired fighter. After the second loss, Wilson fought a lot of fighters with losing records.His pace didn't decelerate. He was in 15 competiti0ns in 1971. Aileen Eaton had a very good local kid by the name of Rudy Robles.He was unbeaten. She needed a good opponent who'd make a fight of it,but a fighter who was beatable. Ronnie Wilson was that beatable fighter.But like all his prior bouts ,he made a fight of it.In a month they were at it again,and again Ronnie made a fight of it.


In 1978.,with both fighters' careers nearing the end,Ronnie Wilson and Quarry squared off for the third time. The fight was in San Diego at the Coliseum.Mike had been knocked unconscious by Foster with a picture perfect left hook. The fight was on the same bill as big brother Jerry's failed go with Ali for some part of a title. Although, when Jerry and Mike would spar in the gym like they hated each other's guts(Jerry would sock the hell out of his little brother in the gym),Jerry said he was shaken by seeing Mike sprawled unconscious on the ring mat. The third fight displayed two fighters who were shells of what they had once brought to the ring. Mike won the last fight,but there was nothing memorable.

Both Ronnie Wilson and Mike Quarry are not with us.Their absences are vague memories to most. But these two fighters were a part of a mainstay in Southland boxing. They may have not been the most gifted,but what they presented to the fight fans were like wrapped packages under the Christmas tree-bloody,but cherished none the less



Ronnie Wilson

[goose 5]

Ronnie Wilson died not too long ago;he was homeless for quite a while.

[dagosd2000]

Ronnie Wilson died not too long ago;he was homeless for quite a while.

Thanks Goose
I saw in the BoxRec records that he passed away in 2016. There is a blog site that tells of a family that ran into him in Vancouver,Canada in 2014. He was living in the park. Burke Emery,who used to train him,told me that Ronnie moved back to Canada to take part in their national health care program. Wilson hasn't been inducted into the Califoronia Boxing Hall of Fame or The West Coast Boxing Hall of Fame. He merits the honor. I'll run it by Rick Farris who is the president of The West Coast Boxing Hall. Thanks again

[goose 5]

I spoke with Wilson's father years ago and he told me of his attempts to rescue Ronnie from the streets. Wilson went back to Canada due to legal problems in the States. Wilson fought once 1999 so he could say he boxed in 4 decades. Wilson was a good baseball player and his father said he should have stuck with it;he had major league potential.

[dagosd2000]

I spoke with Wilson's father years ago and he told me of his attempts to rescue Ronnie from the streets. Wilson went back to Canada due to legal problems in the States. Wilson fought once 1999 so he could say he boxed in 4 decades. Wilson was a good baseball player and his father said he should have stuck with it;he had major league potential.

Goose
I didn't know about his baseball potential. But when I knew him it was his fondness for drinking that was undoing. When he didn't indulge he was one of the nicest guys around. When he drank he turned into a Mr. Hyde. I knew he got into trouble using his fists outside the ring.One time he wanted to get it on with me. I declined the challenge.If he could have conquered his demons he could have probably been a pro baseball player or anything else that he wanted to be.I worked with his father in law.He was totally against the way Sid Flaherty was handling him. Thanks again.

[dagosd2000]

An Unconcerned Palate

I don't think I've ever heard someone leave an arena after a fight card and complain that the food was lousy. On the other hand ,I've never eavesdropped on a conversation of fans recommending to go to the fights because the bill of fare at the snack stand was mouthwatering. The synonyms that come to my mind about the flavor of the food on a boxing arena menu are(1)stale;(2)flat;(3)soggy-stale popcorn,flat beer,and soggy hot dogs. I guess I could also add (4)old peanuts. Although I'm plodding on the age treadmill , my long term and short term memory spans are intact. But I don't think I could ever remember purchasing a particular food or drink item at The San Diego Coliseum that provided nothing more than sustenance, or just something to hold in my hands and put in my mouth to quell my nerves. I admit I've never gotten drunk at a fight because when I had gotten to my seat I was already three sheets to the wind. So guzzling more beer in those big paper cups was for fortification purposes instead of detecting if there was a proper balance of hops, barley,and malt.


Nachos came upon the scene around 40 years ago and if there ever was a venue that could screw up a combination of tortilla chips,melted cheese sauce,and an option of chopped jalapenos, it's at the snack bar at your local boxing arena.


But the local boxing arena is a structure of mostly memory. They stood in the path of the developers who envisioned condominiums and shopping malls to replace a building filled with bleacher seats of wild and woolly people screaming "Kill the bum!" Boxing Arenas were at the best, R rated. You can live with your wife and kids in a condo and then take them to the mall to eat at Applebee's. But for me the food at Applebee's isn't any better than what they tossed at the crowd at the old San Diego Coliseum. It's the pretentiousness of Appebee's food that irks me.They pull your order out of the freezer for starters. After heating it up, it tastes salty and winds up like lead in your stomach.The menu is unoriginal. They put a fancy Italian name(Chef Bulgarelli')in front of a dish of spaghetti and the rubes go home thinking they've dined like a Roman emperor.

I couldn't imagine Aileen Eaton procrastinating about whether she should order Orville Redenbacher or Healthy Choice popcorn. I know that if a decision by the judges went against the local favorite or the hometown hero had a ten count waved over him,the first things hurled into the ring to signify protestation was the beer.If they allowed beer bottles to be sold,I'm sure there would be more ring fatalities caused by glass missiles than by boxing gloves.


But most of the fights I've attended have been in places that Ring Lardner wrote about. Small,smoky,and hot, cramped quarters with low ceilings. Throw in a bullring, and that's the social status of the my boxing echelons. I have to admit I've seen fights at The Fabulous Forum in Los Angeles. That's the time when I wore my good dress shirt.







Italian cooking at my house. Recipes handed down from family recipes.My grandfather,Diamond Joe, had his Bella Napoli Restaurant on Halsted Street in Chicago,My grandfather made a special trip to Naples to find the best chef in the city and bring him back to The Bella Napoli.Al Capone would come in every night to eat his spaghetti. One day one of Dion O' Banion's men came in and tried to bribe the chef to put prussic acid in Capone's noodles. Big Al got fat at The Bella Napoli. O'Banion was clipping chrysanthemums in his flower shop when he got whacked by Capone gunmen. They put the flowers on his grave.

[chrisjs1985]

Italian food

Where did the Italians learn how to cook like that?

[dagosd2000]

Cubano Chant

It was easy knowing when the next fight card was going to happen in Tijuana. On just about every lamp post,telephone pole,on the sides of buildings,in store shop windows ,were fight posters. I must have seen thousands of them in my day. I wish I had some of them now.Legendary names like Vicente Saldivar,Ruben Oliveres,Sugar Ramos,Julio Cesar Chavez,Carlos Zarate,and Erik Morales.Non Mexicans the likes of Archie Moore,Sugar Ray Robinson,and Davey Moore. Muhammad Ali was scheduled to put on an exhibition,but cancelled. His face was all over the streets of Tijuana..Then there was my favorite,Jose Napoles. But the poster that surprised me was ,this was after Napoles had retired from boxing,that he was to perform with his band at a club on Revolution Street called El Rancho Grande

There's no doubt that Napoles enjoyed the good life and he made every attempt to grab it. After he didn't want to regroup again after Stracey gored him in that bullring in Mexico City,Jose wasn't about to let the fun slip away. He fashioned himself as a trumpet player(or it might have been a cornet he had to his mouth when I saw him play)and formed a salsa band. Although he embraced the music of Mexico,he grew up in the streets of Santiago de Cuba listening to the mambos,rhumbas,and cha cha chas emanating from the bands and musicos inside the sultry nightclubs, and outside playing on the sweltering crowded streets.-the rhythms swaying with the tropical breezes. Let me add ,the revered music of Mexico,the mariachis,have a privileged position for the native born.,,Even though Jose was granted Mexican citizenship,he wouldn't have been able to pull it off blowing his trumpet with Los Mariachis Vargas de Tecalitlan. He was black and a Cuban-two strikes and you're out.So it was music he knew and had swiveled his hips to in Cuba that he indulged himself.


The day i saw the poster announcing that Jose and his Conjunto Tropical were to perform at El Rancho Grande Bar in Tijuana was instantly added to my bucket list. The Rancho Grande was mostly for the locals. Jose hadn't reached the echelons of Carlos Santana so the Rancho Grande was a logical locale. The Rancho Grande would feature various types of entertainment from local bands, to wrestling and boxing matches. The bar had a high ceiling and plenty of room inside. The layout was all over the place with chairs and tables scattered to fill every corner. The bar was just inside the door after climbing up a steep flight of stairs. There,a waiter would guide you to the bar to make sure you bought a watered down drink or one of those mini bottles of overpriced Corona beer. The paint on the walls comprised of dull multi colored hues was peeling along with the graffiti. The place was a mishmass,but Mexicans aren't particularly critical about the aesthetics of a bar. In fact, if the bar is a little beat up looking it lends itself to a sort of Mexican metaphor-a counrry that prides itself a little of being rough around the edges.



Inside it was pretty hot and humid. I'd say the temperature must have reminded Jose of his native Cuba. He was wearing a white sleeveless dress shirt. He was backed up by musicians commanding posts at assorted rhythm instruments:congas,timbales,bongos..There was a piano player and a guy noodling a tenor saxophone. Standing out front was a beautiful dark skinned woman wearing a white low cut sequin dress.Her hair was rolled up with more sequins so you could see her elegant neck. She was Mrs. Napoles. She was also the singer ,and she sang in a full gorgeous voice. As she sang her eyes glistened,her body swaying to the rhythm.


They played with heart and soul and had the crowd gyrating on the dance floor with every beat. About an hour into their first set a fight broke out at one of the tables. I guess the band had seen plenty of this stuff before so they switched tunes and played the Gillette Blue Blade song until the bouncers threw the bums out. Then it was back to normal.They never missed a beat.


I have to say that although Jose Napoles wasn't a Dizzy or a Miles with his horn,the music was inspired,pulsating,and loud. His wife could have sung with any of the famous Latino bands. She had it, and she knew it.You couldn't take your eyes off her.


I know later the group broke up. They say Jose was holding out with the night's takes. If he wasn't playing his trumpet in a bar,he owned a cantina. Boxing,music,women,drinking,smoking his Cubano Puros,bettng on the ponies,stiffing the band out of their money,spitting a mouthful of water in Phil Silvers'(not the comedian) face at the Main Street Gym,sparring with Baby Cassius with whisky on his breath,throwing out the federales(after he and his compadres had stripped off their clothes) who tried to shake him down in his joint in the Zona Rosa in Mexico City,and when I sought him out in Ciudad Juarez he wanted me to take him back to Los Angeles to attend The West Coast Boxing Hall of Fame banquet(on my dime of course).He seems like a fascinating guy to get to know if you don't too close.You never know when he could spit in your face. :






El Rancho Grande

[dagosd2000]

La Epoca De Oro

Yesterday when I pulled up my recollections of that night in the Rancho Grande listening to Mantequilla Napoles's band,I hope I didn't give the impression that their efforts were no more than amusing. No,they had it together.I think Napoles's wife was Mexican yet she sang in the style of the Caribbean. She absolutely floored me. She carried that band. I listen a lot to the music of the Golden Epoch, and that includes the compositions and performances from all of Latin America. Mexico has always brought together all the genres and let them stand on their own . Mexico never tried to homogenize the various styles into something "Mexican." In Latin America,Mexico has always been at the top when it comes to composers and performers. There's no caste system when it comes to music south of the border.. Elvis was as big in Mexico as in the United States. When I married my wife,the only two American artists she knew were Sinatra and Elvis.

I tried to find something on YouTube that came close to what I heard at the Rancho Grande. I wanted to find a female singer whose pipes reminded me of Mrs. Jose "Mantequilla" Napoles. Jose may have been a champ,but in that band he was on the undercard. Here's something that will give you an idea



Maria Luisa Landin-Amore Perdido

[dagosd2000]

The Kid From Nowhere

Aristeo Castro was making quite a name for himself fighting in San Diego. Between fighting at the Silver Slipper in Las Vegas and The Coliseum in San Diego he hadn't lost a fight. This was back in 1969 and 1970. The names on his victory .list weren't what I'd call in the top contender category,but as long as he kept it up sooner or later Castro would get a big fight at the Olympic,and if he kept it up there,the sky was the limit.

When you've seen so many fights it becomes a blur as time passes. The fight I saw between Aristeo Castro and a fighter by the name of Kid Rayo probably would have caused me to have case of cataracts if I tried to remember that encounter today, except for how this one turned out. I think I went to the fight by myself. Not all my friends I could coax to go The Coliseum and watch the fights. The old arena was in a dimly lit part of downtown and fight fans always seemed to me to be a different breed of cat.They reminded me of the railbirds you'd see lined up along the racetrack with racing form in hand. To a lot of my friends boxing matches were on a primitive par with the Roman gladiator matches-interesting to see it in a Steve Reeves movie ,but I don't want to go down to the Coliseum and see the analogy in person.

Aristeo Castro was a sharp enough boxer,didn't have a knockout punch,and the only guy he had fought with a winning record was the trial horse Benito Juarez who had 34 fights in the loss column. But for 5 bucks I could buy a ticket to sit in the bleacher seats and have enough left over to buy a beer. I figured I'd see Castro win by another decision in, a more or less, a boring fight. Even though he hadn't lost,he wasn't real exciting to watch especially if you considered his opposition.

When the fighters walked down from that smelly old leaky locker room it wasn't anything exciting like Ali and Frazier climbing through the ropes in the Fight Of The Century..To tell the truth if you hadn't been watching,you wouldn't have known that they were about to enter the ring. Since Kid Rayo was ,I guess, to be the set up guy to keep Castro's perfect steak going, he slowly walked down the aisle first. I'd never heard of Kid Rayo. In fact I thought they had made up his name to give the encounter a ray of glamour. I could see between his open robe that he looked soft in the middle. I thought he was a Mexican fighter,but Fred Lewis,the ring announcer,said he was from Nicaragua fighting out of LA.I was hoping that Kid Rayo would at least make a fight of it.


At the bell the fighters touched gloves and that was about the hardest leather thrown in the first frame I was hoping that that was the common "feel out round." But as the fight moved on it didn't even look like a decent sparring match. Rayo was sluggish,he telegraphed his punches,he couldn't put anything together. Castro knew he didn't have to work to hard to get a decision so he went along with the dance. Frank Rustich,the referee,had to separate them a lot. As the fight trudged into the middle rounds I could hear the Mexican whistling,chifles. By that time I wanted to go down to the hall of public records and have Kid Rayo's named changed from "Kid" to "Old Man".

But then something happened. It might have been in the 7th round. It was something you'd see in a corny fight movie with Lou Costello or Jerry Lewis,but this wasn't make believe.How the fight ended is what made it memorable for me. The two fell into another of their multitude of clinches. This one was in ring center. Rustich was standing behind Castro and was about to move around the fighters when Kid Rayo, with his right arm clasped behind Castro's head,freed the hand and tapped Castro's back.Castro thought it was Rustich signaling to break and stepped back with his hands at his waist. Then bam ,Kid Rayo clips the unsuspecting Castro on the tip of the chin and the win streak is suddenly over. Rayo hadn't won a round except for the final one.

I mentioned this fight to Frank Baltazar years later and he told me that Kid Rayo was a well known fighter in the Southland and his native Nicaragua. He also said that Rayo was a better "gym fighter" than when he got in there for the real thing.Baltazar said(and you hear this a lot about the pugs)that Kid Rayo was one of the nicest guys around. A close family man who plied a trade that earned him a living to keep his house in order. I saw his last fight at The Coliseum.He lost to an undefeated Quincy Daniels on points. There was no repeat of the Castro fight.Maybe Daniels saw that one and knew what to expect in a clinch.



Kid Rayo

[dagosd2000]

No Return Policy

"I saw you fight at the Arena 72,"I said.
"You remember that place?,"asked Diego.
I was surprised that Diego didn't mention his fight about that night I saw him in Tijuana against some black fighter from the States.It wasn't much of a contest. Though Diego was in the twilight of a long career,he still had enough in him to get rid of that guy in a couple of rounds.
"I saw a few fights there."
"Is it still there?"
"No.I don't think so."
I ran into the ex welterweight fighter at the garden shop at the Home Depot. We stood in front of a row of ferns planted in hanging baskets. He stood stooped over slightly.. Thick gray eyebrows obscured his deep set eyes A fighter's nose and a cauliflower ear accentuated his gaunt face.Crooked little hairs circled the lobes of his ears and clogged his nostrils. His skin had a clay pigment,his hands strong and gnarled. His dark blue khakis hung loosely on his hips. A threadbare brown long sleeved shirt that was a couple of sizes too big draped on his shoulders. He had lost weight.He looked like he had been sick.
"When I started to go bad all I could do is fight in Mexico,"said the old fighter in a guttural voice.
"But you won the night I saw you."
"It was set up that way. That prieto I fought never had a fight before."
"Didn't you start in Chiapas?"
"I was born there."
"Do you ever go back?"
"I had to go down there ten years ago when they kidnapped my brother in law."
"What happened?"
"He had a consruction business. After work he was driving home when they blocked off the road and pulled him out of the car.They telephoned saying they wanted 5000 dollars."
"Did you pay it?"
"His wife paid the money."
"Did they let him go?"
"No.I think they figured we paid too fast so they wanted another 5000."
"What happened then?
"We paid the money,but they killed him anyway. They found him in a field with his head cut off."
I stood there in disbelief.
"We have a house in Mexico in my wife's hometown,"I said.
"Where in Mexico?"
"Michoacan."
"You like it there?"
"We used to. At one time we wanted to retire there.The house is up for sale."
"There's nothing for me in Mexico,"said Diego. "My kids and grandchildren are here.There's a lot of my wife's family down there that want to come up to United States,but it's too costly."
"What do you think of that caravan from Central America in the news that's headed for the border?"
"You know better than to ask me that. You've been around long enough,"smirked Diego.
"That's been going on for years. They make it sound like they 'stormed' through the border. The Mexican customs stops them,shakes them down for everything they have,and then let's them through so the gangs can take what's left.They all work together.They are in Mexico illegally,but the government lets them proceed.It's business."
"And all this talk about MS 13 and terrorists.The women get raped and the men get left in the desert.Those people are terrified",rasped Diego.
"And they want to blame us."
"It's been going on that way for years,"said Diego shaking his head..
"And they want to blame Trump for everything."
Diego put his hand on my shoulder.
"Trump. That son of a bitch made me lose that fight to Indian Red Lopez at the Olympic."



Cartolandia.
This is where the squatters lived that migrated to Tijuana. It was located under the bridge as you crossed into Tijuana going towards downtown. Cartolandia is not there anymore. They tore it down years ago and built the Tijuana flood control passage.Now there are more squatters than ever,but they are spead throughout the city.

[chrisjs1985]

As usual excellent stuff sir

I recently finished that book "Hard leather" which I found very enjoyable and insightful. It has gotten me curious to further research a lot of the fighters in the book. I read what Johnny Sarduy said about Napoles being a great fighter but a son of a so and so. Napoles hadn't gotten the respect and attention of some of the other Cuabn fighters and pointed the finger saying because they were light skinned. He said he'd seen him spit in fighters faces in the gym. I guess some of the greats just had that edge, that fuel that helped them to the top. Interesting to read Sarduy actually became a millionaire due to his successful drywall business and real estate investments.

[dagosd2000]

d

[dagosd2000]

As usual excellent stuff sir

I recently finished that book "Hard leather" which I found very enjoyable and insightful. It has gotten me curious to further research a lot of the fighters in the book. I read what Johnny Sarduy said about Napoles being a great fighter but a son of a so and so. Napoles hadn't gotten the respect and attention of some of the other Cuabn fighters and pointed the finger saying because they were light skinned. He said he'd seen him spit in fighters faces in the gym. I guess some of the greats just had that edge, that fuel that helped them to the top. Interesting to read Sarduy actually became a millionaire due to his successful drywall business and real estate investments.

Thanks Chris.
Napoles is an interesting guy. All the great Cuban fighters that left Castro's Cuba had a lot of black blood. Legre,Ramos,Rodriguez,and Napoles weren't close to looking "light skinned".Napoles was the first foreigner who got assisstance from a president of Mexico to gain Mexican citizenship. France,England,and Canada wanted to see him defend his title on their soil. He was selected to be on the first list of inductees to the IBHOFNamed RIng Magazine Fighter of The Year for 1969. Selected 4th greatest welterweight by the Associated press..He blew all his money on women,partying,the racetrack,and bars that he owned that he ran into the ground.. The wealthiest man in Mexico(and probably the world)Carlos Slim pays his bills. When I went down to Ciudad Juarez that time to see him,he was sitting out front of his place(actually it is a house that a friend lets him live in for free)smoking cigars while his wife was out running errands.I slipped him 20 bucks to keep him in cigar money. i think he has 8 kids.I wouldn't have called him another Ward Cleaver.His band folded because he was keeping too much of the profits for himself so he could go on having the time of his life.

Respect?You have to earn it more than just in the boxing ring

BTW:Chris Napoles' favorite fighter was a dark skinned lightweight by the name of Ciro Moracen. They say he boxed beautifully. By the time his career was ending,Castro had outlawed pro boxing. Moracen stayed in Cuba working low paying jobs living in poverty.Somehow he got in trouble with the government,went to prison,and committed suicide.There' some info on the internet about him. Talk about a great? fighter who flew under the radar.



Jose Napoles and one of his biggest fans

[dagosd2000]

d

[dagosd2000]

In Memory Of

Jerry Quarry's pro boxing debut was on the undercard of the Vicente Saldiver/Raul Rojas featherweight championship fight. I never knew that before. I just happened to stumble upon that when I was doing some researching of the title fight. The championship match I do remember. it wasn't televised,but afterwards I saw the replay. The fight was at the Memorial Coliseum.The big stadium is located across the street from the University of Southern California.At the time The Coliseum was home to the USC Trojan football team and the LA Rams When the Brooklyn Dodgers left New York in 1958 and came out to LA,the Coliseum was their homefield until Dodger Stadium was completed in 1962 .San Diego had no big league baseball then so I followed the Dodgers. I liked the Dodgers when they were in New York mainly because I hated the Yankees. I continued to pull for them in LA because they had Koufax and Drysdale. I remember seeing a World Series game between the Dodgers and the Chicago White Sox at the Coliseum in 1959.My very favorite team was the Chicago White Sox The Sox won the game,but lost the series in six .I think the Coliseum still holds the record for attendance for a baseball game. The day I was there with my father there were over 90,000 fans in the seats

That title match with Saldivar and Rojas drew a lot of interest. Both fighters had splendid records.Rojas had never been defeated in the ring.Saldivar had one fight in the lost column,that was against the Cuban, Baby Luis. Saldivar broke down Sugar Ramos to win the title in Mexico City and became the hottest tamale in the country. It was the usual feeling in this kind of a fight with the Chicano ,Rojas,up against the Mexican national,Saldiver. Just about everyone inside the walls(and out in the streets)were hoping that Saldivar would keep his crown The Chicano fighter in LA couldn't even get the hometown fans to cheer for him.I remember hearing Alberto Sandoval saying he added an "o" onto the end of his name Albert thinking that would sway some fans his way. He had to have been dreaming.

Saldivar would often start slowly..That was common among many Mexican fighters. It's like they had to be woken up first.But against Rojas,Saldiver was in charge early. Vicente finally hammered Rojas into submission in the 15th and last round. The fans got their money's worth that night

That fight kind of signaled the beginning of the Golden Era Of Boxing in LA Later,Olivares would enhance the Latino following with his destruction of Lionel Rose The Olympic Auditorium would get fired up. The Fabulous Forum was our Madison Square Garden.

One last comment before I let this go. I remember when the Memorial Coliseum didn't serve alcohol. This policy was to observe our servicemen who had given their lives for our country. It's hard to imagine going to a fight and you can't have a beer. If the fight is to your liking,you throw money. If not,you throw beer.



Vicente Saldivar

[dagosd2000]

There's A Sucker Born Every Second.

P.T. Barnum was to have said "There's a sucker born every minute",but in this super fast technology age we can shorten that time span down to a second. It amazes me to see how the public buys into what's projected at them in the media. When I was a kid in San Diego there were three major network channels on TV:ABC,CBS,and NBC. San Diego didn't have a local channel.LA had local channels 5 and 13. I remember channel 13 had those 15 second commercials advertising small local businesses.They'd run the commercials together,maybe a half dozen at a time.They looked like something put together in a garage. After Johnny Carson finished his show at 1 am.that was it for TV viewers,NBC would sign off with the National Anthem and then all you could see on the screen was that Indian head until 7 in the morning when The Today Show came on with Dave Garroway.

Now I'm so far out of it,I couldn't tell you how many channels have inundated the our TV sets. 24/7 there's everthing you want. Bottom line is you pay for it,and if you want to embellish what you already have,get out your credit card. I watch some sports,old movies,the news until I can't take it anymore,and if there's a good documentary I'll stay tuned. With the huge growth of programming comes with it a massive advertising blitz. I'm at a point of my life that I don't like people telling me what to do. Commercials are my worst enemy. Madison Avenue is subversive. Lie.Lies.Lies

Sports has been gobbled up by the marketing pundits. Every game is of the highest importance.The players and owners demand more and get it.The money that goes into their bank accounts is procured from the fans. Boxing doesn't escape the hype.Boxing provides rich ground for the huckster. Promoters can put together a fight,spread it all over the television,analysts argue back and forth,and sell it on Pay For View for a week's grocery bill. The rhetoric is loud,The music if off the decibel levels.The weigh in is rife with emotion, and often the there's a bonus fight before the real one.


There's nothing in the world of sports that's that damn significant. Who wins or loses isn't importanr unless you're playing in the game or fighting inside the ring. There's just too much crap in the world that requires more attention. People who live their lives through a team or an athlete need to rethink their priorities.


But if you think that sports is just a big candy store,an outlet for all the everyday stress,then that's the healthy way to embrace it into your life.

I see that there's talk of another Pacquiao/Mayweather fight. Maybe the boxing spin doctors are just throwing it out there to see if anyone is biting. if it just gets nibbles,they'll come up with a bigger lure. I can't see why anyone would want to see a rematch. But these pushers know where the addicts live.They are master brainwashers.

Naw. I won't watch it. I wouldn't pay a nickel to see it.I ain't one of those suckers who was born every second. I was one of those minute born suckers.Did I tell ever tell you how I paid to watch Liston flop in some school gym in Maine against some guy who called himself The Greatest?



Sonny Liston