Classic American West Coast Boxing

[dagosd2000]

Taking A Little Off The Top

Just Off The Top Of My Head:Al Capone was what the mob guys referred to as a "degenerate gambler." He lost a lot of money at the racetrack. Hawthorne Race track was located in his mafia controlled backyard suburb ,Cicero. As much as he liked to know ahead of time which horse was going to win,he often passed on laying a bet on a "sure thing" sharing the information to a friend who would clean up. He thought that knowing ahead of time what nag was going to cross the finish line first would take the drama out of the experience. My father lost a lot of money at the track.My mother almost left him because he was losing more money at the track than what he was earning with the Outfit. It was easy come,easy go. He knew that he'd be flush again soon so his box at the track was always there with an "Open" sign at the gate.

The fights in Chicago were the some of worst when it came to "arranging" things in advance. One time my father took us to visit Sam Giancana's family in Oak Park which was not too far away from where we lived at the time,Riverside. My mother, sisters, and myself congregated in the living room with Sam's very timid and nice wife Angela and their three daughters(that was the ritual with these family get togethers) . The men were yakking it up in the parlor that was next to where the women and children belonged by Italian tradition-away from the men when discussing things. I recognized Giancana who they called "Mooney" behind his back. It was a nickname that connotated the way Giancana would fly off the handle and go ballistic at the drop of a hat.Giancane was just a punk kid who ran errands for my grandfather Diamond Joe" Esposito back in the 20's. But now in the 50's he was running things along with Paul "The Waiter" Ricca and Tony Accardo. Ricca,who didn't like to be called "The Waiter"(his first job in Chicago was being a waiter at my grandfather's restaurant the Bella Napoli on Halsted Street),was there sitting in the parlor I remember with some of the other "made" guys. I had my ear to the door trying to listen to what was being discussed. Somehow the topic of boxing came up.The "Goodfellas" were gloating about how they had control of everything east of Kansas City and St. Louis and how they operated the venues deciding who was going to fight, only if they knew how to take orders.


The thing I remember most from that afternoon(before we all gathered around the table to feast on macaroni)was how those pin striped suits talked about the Jewish gamblers who fixed the Gans/ McGovern fight. That was before their time nor did the set up involve many Italians or "Mustache Petes",but anyhow drew accolades from those dagos because it went off so smoothly. if you watch that fight on YouTube you can see that something was up.Too bad .Joe Gans had to do that sort of thing when called upon or he wouldn't have had much of a career with the sport,not to mention having his legs in a cast and walking around on crutches.


Joe Gans

[dagosd2000]

Dagos And Dogies

Growing up in an all Italian family(both my father and mother were full blooded Italian though my cousin Joey told me one time that there was a trace of French blood in us.Of course my father said that was bulls--t) you would think that all the idols of Little Italy were paisan. For the most part that's right. The Italians had the best singers:Sinatra,Caruso, Mario Lanza,etc..The biggest empire with all those emperors. The richest culture that included figures like Da Vinci and Michelangelo.And of course the most delicious food and the most beautiful women. Throw in Joe DiMaggio and you have the finest baseball player to ever take the field. And then there was Marciano who was the greatest heavyweight who ever stepped into the ring(Look what he did to Joe Louis,and besides he was undefeated).

I remember growing up in that dago neighborhood playing with the other kids and just about everyday we played "Cowboys and Indians." Of course the most famous gangster was Al Capone,but I never recall playing with those kids a reenactment of the St. Valentine Day Massacre. Like choosing sides to play stick ball, every kid that met outside in the street picked the name of some Wild West character. The first name that got dibs(and that was the choice of the toughest kid)was Davy Crockett. Then working its way on down in more or less the usual order was something like Wyatt Earp,Billy The Kid,Jesse James,Marshal Dillon,Wild Bill Hickok,and so on. I was somewhere in the middle of these selections so I had to settle for someone like The Range Rider or Hopalong Cassidy.Now the game was "Cowboys and Indians,but no one wanted to be an Indian because they were the bad guys and they'd all in the end get killed.In this politically correct world we live in today we'd be viewed as racists ,and that would be a close assessment.

I don't know of any Italians that came over on the boat and became cowboys. My grandfather on my mother's side got killed in a cave in in a coal mine in Montana. That's about as western a dago I could think of,but I certainly didn't want to be him.Besides, he never toted a six gun.To tell the truth I can't name a cowboy,desperado ,or lawmen who had marinara sauce running through his veins. But most of those Italian immigrants that arrived at Ellis Island settled in the big cities on the east coast or traveled to Chicago..They lived in slums and were indebted to a patron (Godfather)like my grandfather "Diamond" Joe. The Italians ,who had a little money on them, went traveled across the continent to live in Northern California to grow grapes in their vineyards to make wine or establish businesses like Bank of America and Ghirardelli Chocolates.Anyway I can't find in the history books a dago sheriff who called himself "Tex."

When I was working out with some of the fighters here in San Diego I met up with a amateur heavyweight who was in the Navy. He was training at the 32nd Street Naval Gym in National City.This guy was from Texas.He was a big bare chested sort with skin as white as snow.If the sun was shining on his face you couldn't see his pale blue eyes and sandy hair.I'll give you three guesses what his nickname was. He spoke with that slow deliberate drawl that gave him away that he wasn't from these parts,but he couldn't have card less.

Though this Panhandler( he told me he was from "Amarilla' ")had been fighting amateur fights while he was sailing around the world,he wasn't very good when it came to puttin' up his dukes. Now you'd think that all Texans like to get into a good scrap and can take care of themselves,but this sailor was one guy I could take in the gym without experiencing an anxiety attack.In fact the only fight I had inside the ring in front of an audience was with this pale face in a sub rosa fight at a dive in one of National City's watering holes called the Club 21. I had him out of there inside a round.

But me and this swabby were more or less friends.I could tell right off that our mind waves were on different frequencies,but that didn't hold much in the gym.I don't think it meant darn nuthin' to this Lone Star sailor who had to unbutton his fly to pee.I remember one day we got to chewin' the fat after sparring a few rounds.We were unwrapping our hands inside the locker room.
"Estes,"he drawled,"You should become a fighter."
"Tex,it takes a lot to be a fighter and I don't think I have it in me."
"You hit as hard as a mule.."
"I don't know much about fighting. I'm 23 years old and besides I go home with headaches."
"I'll tell you what,When I git out of the Navy in three months I'll come back to San Diego and be your manager."
Now I knew I'd never be a fighter.
"Think it over. I don't want to go back to Amarilla' .It gets too hot and everything is flat.Texas is an ugly state."
"You like San Diego?"
"I do,but I'll have to adjust to it.Back in Amarilla' we got a few n-----s.That I can deal with. But out here there's all these f---in' spics.I ain't used to them."
"Mexicans are all right.You'll get used to them."
"I ain't talkin' about Mexicans.It's all these oily skinned EYE-talians. I never could stand them. They all strut around thinking they're God's gift."

I guess he never figured me for an Italian. I never told him I was. It wasn't worth the trouble. All I can say is that I was mighty satisfied giving him a beating inside the ring that night in National City. Too bad he wasn't born in the Southwest Side of Chicago when I was there as a kid. I would have loved to have scalped him.


Wyatt Earp

[dagosd2000]

Who Needs All Them Big Fancy Words Anyhow?

Before San Diego got a major league baseball franchise in 1969,if I wanted to listen to a big league game I'd tune my radio that was at my bedside to catch Vin Scully do the play by play of the LA Dodger games. There was a minor league Pacific Coast League Triple A team in San Diego called the Padres with Al Schuss calling the action. The minor league Padres couldn't afford to send Schuss on the road with the team to do the announcing. Instead,Schuss had to rely on what he was fed to him on the Western Union wire of the play by play while he was sitting in the studio in San Diego..He couldn't see what was really going on. He had a piece of wood hanging above his desk at the studio and if the batter made contact he'd smack the wood with a mallet. If it was a foul ball,he would just tap the piece of wood.If it was a home run he'd strike the wood a good one. Very few people knew what was going on. There were no TV broadcasts of the away games.One night the Padres were playing a game in Vancouver ,Canada against the Pacific Coast League Mounties. Schuss was sitting in the booth in San Diego getting the game on the ticker tape as usual. However,the game went into extra innings. The game was still in progress when the Western Union office in Vancouver closed at midnight. Schuss had no idea what was going on so he faked his broadcast inventing the progress as it went along smacking the piece of wood with his mallet. He had no clue of what was actually happening. But if I wanted to hear the best baseball announcing,I'd switch channels to listen to Vin Scully's call of the game with the Los Angeles Dodgers.

As the media expanded so did the intricacies of the game. Let's face it .All the sports have evolved into a sort of science. A pitcher back in the day threw as hard as he could hoping it was in there for a strike and the batter didn't hit the ball out of the park. I remember Sandy Koufax was THEE man when it came to pitching. He was just about unhittable. He'd strike out 12 or more batters a game.His ERA was in the ones. But today pitching is that science I was talking about. The pitcher studies film of the batters and also examines how he pitched the previous time out. He throws to spots.He knows the hitter's weakness.Today, there are pitch counts,release points,arm angles-all under the scope of video tape. Nutrition,weight training,and sports medicine-things that didn't exist when the Dodgers came to Los Angeles from Brooklyn in 1958 are fundamentally part of the game.

I just used pitching as a microcosm of what sports has developed into. But as much as the athletes have advanced so has announcing the game. Today,there are usually two,maybe three guys in the booth.-the play by play announcer and a color man or two. Scully had another person with him in the booth ,but Scully only soloed when he'd do his announcing. Jerry Doggett(and later Russ Porter)would be off mike when Vin was dong his thing.

When I was listening to Vin Scully on the radio everyone in the Southland knew he was Number One. He knew it too. When the major league Padres emerged in 1969 and they were playing the Dodgers down here in Jack Murphy Stadium, I remember sitting in the stands and the fans would be listening to Vin Scully on their radios.

But as baseball developed into that science I was talking about,the old school announcers were at sea.The new breed of game callers were ex players. Once they were sent to broadcasting school to refine their oratories there was no looking back.The play by play guys had to bone up on baseball.What's that saying?"You can't teach an old dog new tricks." Watching a game today is like getting a course on Baseball 101. The information is a big part of the entertainment. The old schoolers couldn't adjust-including Vin Scully.I think he knew it.He didn't know the players.Wasn't in the locker rooms anymore.Wanted to work by himself. The big issue with the old time guys was that they wanted to be as big as the game. They wanted to be Grantland Rice in the announcer's booth. It wasn't what they knew about baseball,but how poetic their delivery was,the eloquence of their speech. That was their foundation. That won't fly today.

We had an announcer down here in San Diego a few years back named Dick Enberg.He was one of the last old schoolers.He had announced everything. He hadn't announced a baseball game in over 20 years.When he came back to the booth you could tell he wanted the attention to be on himself. He thought he could get through with his fancy words and witticisms.For a guy who'd been doing various sports during his long career,he knew next to nothing about what he was announcing. Back in his day announcers didn't study the game because there wasn't much to know. You threw the ball. You hit the ball.You caught the ball.You could get away with flowery descriptions.

Now I've just written six paragraphs regarding baseball announcing.. Where do boxing announcers rate? Boxing announcers are about the same as they've always been,but I'm talking about the TV announcers. Remember when the fights where broadcast on the radio?The annoncer had to describe everything the boys were throwing at each other.Every pit and pat.Every rock,sock,and stagger.Every miss,clinch.and low blow. Listening to the fights on the radio was electric.To keep up, an announcer couldn't afford to take a side glance.

I remember listening to the two Basilio /Robinson fights on the radio with Don Dunphy calling the shots. The surging roar of the crowd when a telling blow was landed embellished the verbal account going through Dunphy's mike. You afford to have lapses like doing a TV broadcast. It was like Dunphy and YOU were also inside the ring with Robinson and Basilio.

But I'm talking about fights on the radio.Baseball,and football were more or less the same on the tube or the crystal set. Baskerball,however is different. Remember Chick Hearn ?He did the simulcast of the Laker games.It was something special to listen to how he kept on top of all the action, and the idioms he would invent during the game(if a player shot the ball at the top of the key,Hearn would say e shot it from the "top of the popcorn machine" or if a player tried to get too fancy committing a turn over ,he'd say the "mustard slipped off the hotdog")

When all said and done,the new kids on the block are calling the game,or the fights. If an announcer today wants to focus the attention on himself it becomes apparant in a hurry.No one cares about what a Howard Cosell or a Larry Merchant has to say during a fight anymore. The egos belong to the two fighters in the ring,not to some writer who graduated from Columbia school of journalism who knows a lot of big words but couldn't tell the difference between a rabbit punch and a rabbit stew.


Jimmy Lennon-a guy who doesn't try to upstage anyone.

[dagosd2000]

Fear Level

My great grandson,Alejandro,is quite the soccer player.He's only 15 years old,but he's been offered contracts to play on four of the 18 and under teams in the Liga X professional soccer league in Mexico-Leon,Pachuca,Monterrey,and Santos. He was also selected to play on the regional traveling 18 and under team here in the Southland.. Ever since he was a little kid he's not only been the best player on his team,but voted the most valuable player in the league. At each level that he's been playing,he's been the best. I watched him play yesterday on the traveling team. He's a sweeper.Though he's the youngest player on the team,he's a standout. He'll get a crack to step up with the best players in Mexico in a couple of years when he inks a contract with one of the pro clubs. Right now he's the best.At the next level we'll see.

For you baseball fans out there I coached David Wells in Little League. David was not only the best player on the team,but the best player in the league. When he moved up to Pony League,he didn't miss a beat. He was the best player.When he moved on to Colt League-ditto,the best. In high school he pitched the team to the city championship and was vote MVP in the county. After that he signed a contract with the Toronto Blue Jays,played for various Major League teams,pitched a perfect game,won a World Series game with the Yankees, and finished his career winning more than 200 games.

I coached a lot of kids in my day performing in youth leagues up through high school. I'd say 9 out of 10 kids that had the talent washed out when they moved up to the next level.Oh,some were all stars in Little League,then when they got to Pony League they washed out. Sometimes it was a matter of competing with kids who had more talent. But in most cases it was a fear factor that x'd them out.

There was this black kid I remember in the local middle school who was 14 years old.. This kid was 6 foot 200 pounds, had a body that looked like it was chiseled out of granite. He ran the 100 meters under 11 flat,could long jump over 20 feet,and could bench press 300 pounds. He went out for the football team in high school where I was coaching.All this kid ever heard was,
"You're going to get a Division 1 ride to any school you want."and
"You're going to be an All America."
Well,this kid was a complete bust. He hardly played.He was either ineligible because of bad grades or he was hurt with some undetermined injury.

I also had the luck to coach La'Roi Glover in high school. He earned Parade All America honors,got a full ride to San Diego State making 1st team defensive tackle four years straight,signed pro with the Oakland Raiders,made the All Pro team six times,and set (at the time)the record for most sacks in a season.

All the above mentioned kids had the same thing in common-they were gifted athletes. That black kid that was a wash on the high school football team where I coached was in the norm. Why do some kids keep excelling as they move up,and then there 's the lot that hit the wall once they get to the next step?

The ones that fail have a fear of success. They are consumed by fear. People all the time tell them that they are great.A can't miss. The pot of gold is waiting for them at the end of the rainbow.But in their minds all that hype gets the best of them They get shaky knees.They feel if they try they'll fail so they administer a suicide shot. They get bad grades. They fake an injury. Worse,they join a gang and drop out of school. In other words they f--k up before they give it a shot.
"Oh,he could have been an all star if he hadn't..."

Boxing has a similar element. But with fighting,it's a bit different. A guy can turn pro,but that doesn't necessarily mean that he's struggled up the ladder earning any kind of notoriety along the way. Just because a guy is a "pro" fighter doesn't mean he's a worth his weight in jock straps. Most professional fighters shouldn't be fighting.But they have a license from the state commission ,and they're on their way-that light at the end of the tunnel is an oncoming freight train. Hypothetically ,if all the fighters have won a million fights there's also a million losses out thee somewhere.

If you see a pro in the National Football League or the Premier League you know this guy has earned his way to the top.Not so in boxing. Most of the pro fighters, who just serve the purpose of being stepping stones, are tragic figures. In Major League Baseball,for example,if a hitter doesn't do anything more than whiif every time he steps into the batter's box,he'll be reassigned down to the minors.If he keeps on swinging and missing,he'll be out of the game. Most fighters hang around too long. But getting punched in the head and having the referee counting !0 over their prone bodies is a lot more serious than taking a called 3rd strike and then walking back to the dugout.

Getting to the pros is an accomplishment that is self satisfying,Being successful at that level is a dream come true.But being a professional fighter can be a humiliating and terrible experience. These boxing commissions need to take a closer look at who they allow to fight trying to make a living. Boxing is the most unforgiving sport in more ways than one. You can't say these promoters ae a bunch of bleeding hearts.


Mando Ramos-a fighter who self destructed

[dagosd2000]

Pug Corner

I recall watching an episode of The Odd Couple on television one night that had a scene that left a footprintI can't remember what the episode was about,but there was a scene that I filed in my memory bank. Felix(Tony Randall) was visiting Oscar(Jack Klugman) at Oscar's office at the newspaper.Oscar was a major sportswriter for one of the big back east papers. Felix was looking at the pictures on Oscar's wall of some of the famous athletes past and present. Then he walked to a corner of the room and noticed that that space was reserved for fighters. Felix asked Oscar why there were only pictures of fighters on the wall in this corner of his office. Oscar,who was an impatient grouchy sort,settled into a soft voice and a warm smile.
"Oh,this is a special place for me,"said Oscar with an amiable tone."This space is reserved for fighters.I call it Pug Corner."
Oscar didn't have to embellish.It was understood. This was a spot reserved for the fighters who took as much as they dished out. He didn't name any names.That was left for our imaginations. Even if you weren't a fight fan,you could imagine all the Terry Malloys,the scar tissue, the passed blood,the short ends of the take, champions,contenders,the tomato cans.All in one.One in all. A brotherhood of something apart from the rest of the sporting life. Pug Corner.Aptly named.A bittersweet shrine in the corner of an office. Black and white photographs,some with an inscription,a dedication to a pal.A place that didn't resound with the rest of the space.

Black and white memories from a black and blue past. All the gamblers,mobsters,managers, promoters,hucksters,and fair weather friends who lived as parasites off those guys hanging on the wall in that little reserved corner .If you could bring them back to life,they'd tell you that they had the times of their lives. They made some money,traveled, and seen things they would have never imagined if they had worked on the loading docks or drove a hack. They remembered the cheers and heard the boos.Fighting kept them out of jail,at least becoming a career criminal.For some there were flashes of fame and glory. For most of the others it was a long day's journey into the night. If those pictures could talk those boys would all have the stock answer.They wouldn't have done it any other way.


Making a living the hard way

[dagosd2000]

I Never Got The Feel

When the Golden Age of the heavyweights was in full swing in the 70's,I never got the feel of it. Ali,Foreman,Frazier,and Holmes never challenged nor defended their titles under the sunny skies of Southern California. Jerry Quarry and Kenny Norton,the regions two most prominent big men, honed their skills in the Southland,but their opportunities for the heavyweight crown were held in arenas outside the state of California.

Even the lighter legends of that period-Duran,Leonard,Hagler,and Hearns-battled their monumental bouts away from Tinsel Town.The aforementioned great heavyweights I named in the first sentence fought their Sports Illustrated storied fights in Madison Garden in New York,Las Vegas,or inside venues in various foreign countries.

Now you can mention all the great little fighters who were packing the fans to the doors out here at the Olympic Auditorium and The Forum,but that's my point. Only Jose Napoles scaled more than 140 pounds. Ruben Olivares and all the pugnacious scrappers in that bantamweight division weighed about the same as a good size German Shepard. These LA and south of the border pugilists would never be seen buying their clothes at the Big Man's Clothes Shop. Bobby Chacon,Mando Ramos,Rodolfo Gonzalez, and Danny Lopez were champions,but in street clothes they blended into the foot traffic.

With that said,I've always gotten the impression that the back east fight fans think that the Southland was a the minor league of boxing. Music played out of a second fiddle. Maybe that's because most of the major names in the So Cal area are Hispanic. Some don't speak a word of English. Oscar De La Hoya made a name for himself,but let's face it,he couldn't get past Mayweather,Hopkins,Pacquiao,nor Trinidad. His gold was 14 karat instead of 24.

When Don Fraser was hosting one of his shows in LA he insulted Armando Muniz, who was the president of the now defunct World Boxing Hall Of Fame,by telling him in front of everyone that the IBHOF was the legitimate hall of fame institution in the world. Maybe Fraser was right,but his arrogance became transparent when he opened his smart mouth.

I don't give a hoot about what went on back East.I do,but I'm not in awe. There as a guy from back there whose dad was a pretty good fighter once. His dad was inducted in one of the boxing associations in LA although his dad only fought twice in the Golden State. The son came out for the induction ceremony. He was a nice enough fellow,but I got the impression that because he was from the New York area that he was above all the goings on out here.If you said something he had to come back and "one up" you.Maybe his dad was a hot shot,but his son was a dud.

I don't know why some of these back east boys think their poop doesn't stink. I never could get it.But then again,I never put my nose up their asses to take a whiff.

Jerry Quarry

[Chuck1052]

Roger, I think of Las Vegas as an extension of California in a way. Certainly, Las Vegas would not have become what it is now without being in close proximity to the highly populated state of California.

There have been boxing shows that have drawn massive live gates in Las Vegas. In California up until the 1990s, there weren't any boxing shows that drew a live million-dollar gate.

During the 1950s, the New York City boxing scene took a massive hit due to the advent of television. Meanwhile, the Los Angeles boxing scene was doing comparatively well even with the Hollywood Legion Stadium closing its doors during the late 1950s. New York City would continue to have some major bouts, but there would be more boxing shows being staged in Los Angeles.

- Chuck Johnston

[dagosd2000]

Roger, I think of Las Vegas as an extension of California in a way. Certainly, Las Vegas would not have become what it is now without being in close proximity to the highly populated state of California.

There have been boxing shows that have drawn massive live gates in Las Vegas. In California up until the 1990s, there weren't any boxing shows that drew a live million-dollar gate.

During the 1950s, the New York City boxing scene took a massive hit due to the advent of television. Meanwhile, the Los Angeles boxing scene was doing comparatively well even with the Hollywood Legion Stadium closing its doors during the late 1950s. New York City would continue to have some major bouts, but there would be more boxing shows being staged in Los Angeles.

- Chuck Johnston

Chuck
I see your point,but I remember the times when I'd drive up to LA to catch the fights at The Olympic Auditorium and the Forum a half dozen times a year to see boxing matches as good as it gets.I ain't driving or flying to Las Vegas to watch some over hyped shows that are promoted maybe two, three times a year and pay a king;s ransom. I'll watch it the next day on YouTube.Take care pal

[dagosd2000]

Leaving A Bad Taste

I was struck with some curiosity by Chuck Johnston's reply to my post that included my ambivalent feelings about the East Coast's attitude about boxing west of,let's say,Chicago.Chuck is right about television hurting the gates at the small arenas. Eventually, even major venues like Madison square Garden felt the squeeze.The weekly cards dwindled into bi weekly matches ,then whenever they felt the need to put together a show.The Olympic Auditorium was no exception. When Mike LeBell,Aileen Eaton's son,took over operations in the 1980's, he began to see more and more empty seats inside the old arena.He had to supplement the take promoting wrestling and rock concerts. Today,the old structure on 18th and Grand is a Korean church.

My first vivid recollection of going to the movie theater to pay to watch the fights was when Floyd Patterson became champ.Patterson's guru,Cus D'Amato, wheeled and dealed to get his charge to fight Archie Moore for the vacant heavyweight championship.After his 12 to 5 underdog belied the odds to win the crown,ol' Cus finagled with Jim Norris's International Boxing Club to present title matches on the large screen in movie theaters. It became a growing habit with future titles being shown on those blurry opaque machines inside those smoky theaters.

But boxing at the movies was only a moderate success.The quality of the images left something more to be desired. The death knoll for the weekly cards in Home Town USA began with cable TV. For a few dollars more a month the cable services could bring feature fights into the living room. It was the beginning of the gentrification of the three nightly main event fights on the major TV networks. With "free" fights practically out of the way,the promoters' tentacles could now constrict with unabandoned strength squeezing more money out of the fight fan's billfold. HBO and Show Time now had the PPV channels lurking in the backround.

I'll stop right there. I won't pay a red cent to watch a fight on TV. For one thing there aren't many fighters that appeal to me.Even so,if I want to watch a "big" fight, like the Mayweather/Pacquiao fight I'll drive down to Tijuana ,plop my rear on a barstool ,and watch the action for free(without using any apostrophes)

Even when I paid admission to see the fights live I wasn't spending the rent money. For a few bucks I'd go down to the San Diego Coliseum and watch a full card of game boys banging away at each other bringing the crowds to their feet. I saw my share of great fighters at those structures that were built for boxing.Old war horses like The Olympic Auditorium,the San Diego Coliseum ,and the Auditorio Municiplal down in TJ. were iconic edifices that reminisced of a 1930's Hollywood movie.Sugar Ray Robinson,Jose Napoles,Ruben Olivares,Sugar Ramos,Mando Ramos,Davey Moore,Vicente Saldivar, to name few,I could brag about having seen in the flesh. Muhammad Ali fought Ken Norton at the San Diego Sports Arena but that was only because they knew they'd sell all the tickets. I liked eating the stale popcorn,the soggy hot dogs,and swigging the flat beer. The refreshments went with the territory so to speak.It was all Hollywoodesque. Now you go to a boxing extravaganza in Vegas,for example, and it's triple digits for a seat(not to mention the price of the hotel room)and the cost of the "gourmet" food and a beer will set you back gas money for the week.But if all that's out of line you can stay home and watch it on the tube for cost of a speeding ticket.

But it's gotten that way with just about all the sports. I remember when the Padres became a major league franchise. I'd sit in the bleachers at Jack Murphy Stadium for a buck and a half and watch the magic of a Roberto Clemente,Hank Aaron,and the Big Red Machine play their asses off. Today.I'll go to the new Petco Park and watch overpaid crybabies like the 300 million the team shelled out for this under producer Manny Machado. This guy takes plays off.loafs down to 1st base on a grounder,and has the leadership on the field of a pill bug..If I I'm hungry and thirsty I'm looking at 12 bucks for a hot dog that I can wash down with a 15 dollar can of beer.After the game I'll walk back to the parking lot where I handed over 25 bills to the attendant to watch my car.

A couple of years back I got an itch to drive up to the Forum in LA nd watch this unbeaten P4P sensation Roman Gonzalez fight Carlos Cuadras,a very gritty Mexican super flyweight .I thought I might get a de ja vu of the glory days when fighters like Olivares and Napoles were bringing in the throngs making the rafters shake.The noise level that night wasn't anything close to what I'd remembered .At times I could here the echoes. There were empty seats scattered around. No firecrackers going off.No dead rattlesnakes being flung around ringside.And it was i5 dollars for a can of beer.. I felt I was chasing a ghost.Better yet,the night's event tasted like eating a soggy hot dog,but this time it left a bad taste in my mouth


Roberto Clemente

[dagosd2000]

Clearing Things Up

The other day when I said that there aren't any fighters out there that "appeal" to me I didn't want to imply that there aren't any good fighters to boot. Today,the fighters in all the weight classifications aren't as deep as ,let's say, 40 years ago,but there are fighters competing that could have left their marks in any time frame.Right now I'm looking at the BoxRec top 17 P4P list. Some are on the brink of being called "great",there's one who already is,and then there are a few that will disappear.I'll start at the top:
1. Canelo Alvarez is a very good fighter. He was at sea against Mayweather,but then again everybody who fought Floyd could have used a better compass. If Canelo can get by this big Russian Kovalev,Canelo will be inching towards that pantheon of the prominent pugilists.
2. The number 2 guy I think is the best fighter around. Terence Crawford is a very skillful and intelligent fighter,.He's relaxed,has tremendous vision, mastery of his punches,and is very confident,but not cocky.
3. Triple G is a tough guy,but might be slowing down a little. I thought Canelo deserved the nod the last time they fought. I think Canelo will beat him again.
4. Lomachenko is something else.He's a Ukrainian Henry Armstrong. These Russian dudes who grew up without having central heating in sub zero temperatures and ate raw bear meat,I think look at fighting as recreation.He's tough as nails in mind as well in body.
5. Earl Spence I don't think is in Crawford's league.A good fighter,but if he can't beat Crawford(they'll have to make that match)he'll be on his way out.
6. Usyk,I've never seen fight so I'll wait later.
7. This Mexican kid Berchelt I saw fight in Tijuana. He's got the talent where he could have held his own with all the top featherweights during my day with the exception of Sal Sanchez and maybe Wilfredo Gomez.. I don't know who's around him,but he better not fall victim to that bad element that have derailed a lot of promising Mexican fighters.
8. Callum Smith ,I haven't seen so I'll wait another time.
9. Leo Santa Cruz Is an action fighter who is a very good boxer with a lot of heart.He's hot right now.
10. Manny Pacquiao is a legend.One of the all time greats who could have been great in any era.
11. Kovalev ,I haven't seen.
12. Shawn Porter is a good fighter who I think will lose to Earl Spence.
13. Andy Ruiz is a hard guy not to like,but I think when he travels to Saudi Arabia to fight Joshua again,the environment and Joshua will send him back home an ex champ.
14-17. The rest of the fellas' on the list I haven't seen.,but I want to add Luis Nery from Mexico. I saw him fight on the card with Jaime Munguia. Nery is a tough guy similar to a miniature Duran. He sure isn't there yet,but he wants to destroy everyone he facers in the ring. BTW,I mentioned Jaime Munguia.He's got the goods so far too.

There you have it. I wanted to clear things up. I'll go further. There isn't a pro athlete or team in any sport that makes me jump up and down. When I was younger I'd live and die with sports. When I was a kid if Notre Dame or the Chicago Bears lost,I'd hide under the covers and cry. Today,it's different. You go to a game at these Disneylandesque stadiums and people aren't even in their seats. They're at the craft beer bar texting on their phones. The pros make so much money and drink in all this attention that they develop this mind set like that old Peggy Lee song,"Is That All There Is (To The Circus?") The athletes today lose that fire in their bellies. That's why I used that word "appeal." The money.The hype.The celebrity status.I'm not a big fan anymore. If I want enertainment,I'll take my great grandkids to the circus.F--k Peggy Lee.


Salvador Sanchez

[dagosd2000]

Of Course

When Armando Muniz was at the dais inside The Garland Hotel banquet room making his acceptance speech after being inducted into the West Coast Boxing Hall Of Fame in North Hollywood, it was just about a no brainer that he would comment on his futile effort to wrest the welterweight championship from Jose Napoles in Acapulco. The emcee at the ceremony introduced Muniz as "The Uncrowned Champion." I bet if Armando Muniz had a dollar for every time he heard that quip regarding that fateful day in Acapulco,he'd be driving a Bugatti. As much as he appreciates the accolade,he can't change the past. Everyone knows that that call in Acapulco was one of the worst in the annals of boxing. Before the fight inside the dressing room, Armando said he was approached by Jose Sulaiman and he asked him if he thought he was going to win the fight. Talk about a red flag. The promoter,Mantequilla's guiding light, asking the Chicano Muniz that question deep the heart of Mexico.

There have been many stinking decisions involving the challenger getting the rug pulled out from under him,but those bum decisions came after the final bell.But this fight was halted by Sulaiman's nephew/referee Ramon Berumen (after getting the signal from uncle Joe) while Napoles was bleeding , hurt, and sucking up his final gasps of air in the 12th round. Jose was bleeding like a spewing blood like an uncooked Porterhouse..There was a lot of confusion.Berumen was scrambling around the ring gathering the cards from the judges(who unbelievingly had Jose in front).Napoles was standing stoicly in the ring corner looking like he got into a hatchet fight and forgot his hatchet Muniz was surrounded by his cornermen like a prisoner trying to take cover from the vigilantes. When the ring announcer bellowed the travesty,the Tri Color fans went crazy. Of course,that's the way it was predetermined. There was no way that Napoles' title was going to El Norte with a Mexican gringo.Napoles didn't train much.He was soft in the belly ,and that's where Muniz focused his attack. Jose couldn't fend him off. He knew he was in for a long night. After the fight Jose Sulaiman presented Muniz with his watch like that was to make everything goody goody again.

Napoles was already in that pattern late in his career where he was cherry picking his competition.He had passed up a deal to fight the Puerto Rican Angel Espada in San Juan for a "softer" touch,Muniz, in sunny Mexico in front of the friendly aficianados.He should have taken on Espada who wasn't the pressure fighter like Armando. It's one thing to be outboxed,but when a buzz saw is coming at you and you're not in shape to halt the advance it's a desperate situation.

There have been robberies before,but they were thefts that went the distance. Walcott/Louis 1 is a prime example. When Sulaiman's gang ambushed Muniz there were still three more rounds to go. Napoles couldn't have lasted three more minutes. He was even trying to migrate his punches below Armando's border and was getting away with it,but Armando wasn't going to go down to a knee from a low blow.He knew Berumen would have stepped in and raised Jose's hand.

When I discovered Jose Napoles sitting out in front of his modest house smoking a Cuban cigar in that bleak Juarez barrio,I mentioned that I knew Armando Muniz. I wanted Jose to take the bait,but he nibbled. Jose said he was sorry about what had happened that day in Acapulco. He didn't swallow the probe hook, line, and sinker,but looking at his face as he said that expressed his bittersweet memory. He looked down at the pavement speaking with a humble tone of voice.

At the West Coast Hall Of Fame banquet I talked to Armando Muniz about my encounter with Napoles and what he had to say about the outcome of that fight,being "sorry." Armando drew up close to me and strained a hard look into my eyes.
"Do you think he would say that to me?"he asked.
"Of course Armando.Of course he would."


Armando Muniz looking at a portfolio of my artwork. He's smiling. That's a good sign-I think

[dagosd2000]

The Cop In The Ring

The boxing referee is like the baseball umpire.If you can't remember his name after the fight is over he must have done a good job. There's not much discussion about referees. They wear their referee uniform and get their names introduced AFTER the combatants have been announced to the crowd. No audience is going to rise out of their seats and give him a standing ovation. Usually it's mostly quiet or the customary few boos. It's like who likes a cop?

But you've got to have a referee.Imagine a fight without Mr. Law And Order? Sometimes there's a dispute before the contracts are signed about who this arbitrator is goin to be.. One fighter's manager might insinuate that the proposed ref is in the pockets of his opponent's think tank. If there's a beef about who the referee is,then there has to be an agreement before both fighters pick up their pens. There was so much bickering before the Johnson/Jeffries match that Tex Rickard the promoter decided to settle things by proclaiming himself as ring cop.

Carmen Basilio ,after losing the welterweight title to Johnny Saxton in Chicago(there's that city again),claimed that the referee Frank Gilmer wouldn't let him fight on the inside,thus a rematch in Carmen's backyard in Syracuse with the former onion farmer making Johnny cry and regaining the belt.

Of course the talk will never cease about that first fight between the two unbeatens Julio Cesar Chavez and Meldrick Taylor. I watch that thing,and even agreeing with Taylor being ahead in the judges minds up to those final that final five seconds, I'm glad Richard Steele stopped the fight. Steele made the wrong decision. He gave a flimsy excuse:"No fight is worth a man's life",but we all know that Steele was Don King's proxy in the ring that night. But Meldrick Taylor would have been knocked unconscious(or maybe killed) if there had been an extra frame,but the 12th proved to be his hard luck round. If Steele had let it go Taylor would have had his hand raised. No,he wouldn't have died. With five seconds left,by the time Steele would have brought the fighters together the gong would have rung already with no further blows landing.

The reason I'm glad things turned out as they did was that Taylor had gotten the s--t kicked out of him with five seconds to go. A guy that gets the s--t kicked out of him doesn't win the fight from where I'm sitting.

Remember the movie Raging Bull when Jake LaMotta goes to Cleveland to fight Jimmy Reeves and loses the decision with Reeves almost comatose sitting on his stool after ten rounds? That really happened,and so did the ensuring riot.

Before the 20th century fell into our laps,often boxing matches were fights to the finish. Imagine having that today? But if I want to see that kind of carnage all I have to do is hang around inside the bars in Tijuana and sooner or later before the sunrise pinks the sky,there'll be two mad drunks stepping out into the alley to decide who's the most macho . Usually the cause of the squabble is some girl. But one thing you won't see in all the melee is a referee who might step in and stop things even when one of the two might be ahead on the scorecards.


Carmen Basilio

[scartissue]

The Cop In The Ring

The boxing referee is like the baseball umpire.If you can't remember his name after the fight is over he must have done a good job. There's not much discussion about referees. They wear their referee uniform and get their names introduced AFTER the combatants have been announced to the crowd. No audience is going to rise out of their seats and give him a standing ovation. Usually it's mostly quiet or the customary few boos. It's like who likes a cop?

But you've got to have a referee.Imagine a fight without Mr. Law And Order? Sometimes there's a dispute before the contracts are signed about who this arbitrator is goin to be.. One fighter's manager might insinuate that the proposed ref is in the pockets of his opponent's think tank. If there's a beef about who the referee is,then there has to be an agreement before both fighters pick up their pens. There was so much bickering before the Johnson/Jeffries match that Tex Rickard the promoter decided to settle things by proclaiming himself as ring cop.

Carmen Basilio ,after losing the welterweight title to Johnny Saxton in Chicago(there's that city again),claimed that the referee Frank Gilmer wouldn't let him fight on the inside,thus a rematch in Carmen's backyard in Syracuse with the former onion farmer making Johnny cry and regaining the belt.

Of course the talk will never cease about that first fight between the two unbeatens Julio Cesar Chavez and Meldrick Taylor. I watch that thing,and even agreeing with Taylor being ahead in the judges minds up to those final that final five seconds, I'm glad Richard Steele stopped the fight. Steele made the wrong decision. He gave a flimsy excuse:"No fight is worth a man's life",but we all know that Steele was Don King's proxy in the ring that night. But Meldrick Taylor would have been knocked unconscious(or maybe killed) if there had been an extra frame,but the 12th proved to be his hard luck round. If Steele had let it go Taylor would have had his hand raised. No,he wouldn't have died. With five seconds left,by the time Steele would have brought the fighters together the gong would have rung already with no further blows landing.

The reason I'm glad things turned out as they did was that Taylor had gotten the s--t kicked out of him with five seconds to go. A guy that gets the s--t kicked out of him doesn't win the fight from where I'm sitting.

Remember the movie Raging Bull when Jake LaMotta goes to Cleveland to fight Jimmy Reeves and loses the decision with Reeves almost comatose sitting on his stool after ten rounds? That really happened,and so did the ensuring riot.

Before the 20th century fell into our laps,often boxing matches were fights to the finish. Imagine having that today? But if I want to see that kind of carnage all I have to do is hang around inside the bars in Tijuana and sooner or later before the sunrise pinks the sky,there'll be two mad drunks stepping out into the alley to decide who's the most macho . Usually the cause of the squabble is some girl. But one thing you won't see in all the melee is a referee who might step in and stop things even when one of the two might be ahead on the scorecards.


Carmen Basilio

Rog, your mention of the first Basilio v Saxton bout had me reminiscing. I grew up hearing the story of how Basilio was robbed against Saxton in their first fight. My Pops was in attendance at Chicago Stadium that night and swore that Basilio deserved the verdict. I truly respected his opinion on how fights unfolded and on decisions. We always seemed to be on an even keel that way and we both hated bad decisions. But Carmen was his favorite fighter of all time and I suppose took it with a grain of salt until I watched it on youtube and scored it. Well, Pops was right.

Round 1: 10-9 Basilio
Round 2: 10-9 Basilio
Round 3: 10-9 Basilio
Round 4: 10-9 Basilio
Round 5: 10-9 Basilio
Round 6: 10-10 Even
Round 7: 10-10 Even
Round 8: 10-9 Saxton
Round 9: 10-10 Even
Round 10: 10-9 Basilio
Round 11: 10-9 Saxton
Round 12: 10-9 Saxton
Round 13: 10-9 Saxton
Round 14: 10-9 Basilio
Round 15: 10-9 Basilio

Total: 146-142 Basilio

[dagosd2000]

Dan
Basilio said that he never liked fighting in Chicago.He thought he got the short end against Robinson in the Chicago Stadium. Robinson didn't want to fight him again. Basilio also didn't trust his managers Johnny DeJohn and Joe Netro.They were always losing at the track and associating with Carbo and Palermo. Talk about draining the swamp.

[dagosd2000]

Bad Acting

Watched it again last night on TCM,The Harder They Fall.Humphrey Bogart's last movie before he died. He plays a down and out newspaper reporter(Eddie Willis) who's hurtin' for dough so he accepts an offer from a crooked fight promoter Nick Benko( Rod Steiger) who wants the scribe to travel with him and his new heavyweight "sensation" from Argentina,Toro Moreno(Mike Lane). The story runs a parallel with the history of Primo Carnera's venture as heavyweight fighter. Benko starts off his charge fighting east of the Mississippi where he's unknown and out of sight from the viewing public. Of course the fights are all rigged. Willis's job is to feed the back east papers with sensationalized accounts of Toro Moreno's string of quick KO's.Like Primo Carnera and his manger Leon See ,Toro and his manager, believe that everything is above board. The purpose off all this chicanery is to one:make tons of money with the bookies for Benko and his crew including Willis (which the profits never making its way into Moreno nor his manager's bank accounts),and two:finally put an abrupt finish to this dog and pony show when in the end Moreno gets his shot at the heavyweight title by fighting the champ Buddy Brannen(Max Baer).But unlike Carnera's shot with Jack Sharkey,Moreno doesn't know he's fighting on the level this time out. Buddy Brannen levels the big gaucho for the count with one hand tied behind his back.. Toro then wants to go back to Argentina without enough money to buy his plane ticket.

The thing that sticks in my craw about the movie(and I've mentioned this before)is that Buddy Brannen who's played by Baer comes off as a real A Hole. He's pissed off because in Moreno's prior fight,his opponent,Gus Dundee, played by ex pug and former champ Pat Comiskey(who Baer flattened in a round in a real fight in Jersey City)dies in the ring. The beef is that when Brannen beat Dundee to win the title he knocked him out cold - the concussion causing permanent brain damage. All Moreno had to do is tap him a few times to expediate the tragic finale.Willis writes it up that it was Moreno's savage blows that caused the Dundee's death. Brannen is upset because he knows that it was HIS beating of Dundee that precipitated the tragic ending,nothing to do with Moreno punches.When Dundee entered the ring that night with Moreno he was already a dead man walking.

I'll say it again. I can't believe they scripted lines for Baer commenting the aftermath of Dundee's death in the ring.Baer has a bone to pick with the sportswriter Eddie Willis.
"You wrote that story like it was Moreno that killed Dundee,but it was ME who really killed Dundee. I gave him such a beating that when he fought Moreno he was already dead.And that's what I'm going to do to Moreno when I fight him.I'm going to kill him."(sic)

We know about what Max did to Frankie Campbell.We know that Ernie Schaff's death( at the hands of Toro Moreno's carbon copy Primo Carnera) was a result of the beating handed to him by Max Baer. My question is,"Why would they want to script Max Baer to say those lines?In the film he really came across with mean intentions.Second question:"Why didn't Max Baer balk when he saw those lines he had to read in the script?" Nothing had to be said by Baer. Someone else in the cast could have gotten that across. I wonder what Schaff's and Campbell's family(the baseball player Dolph Camilli was Campbell's brother) thought when they saw Max Baer groping for an Oscar nomination?

It was stupid and tasteless for Baer to throw out his chest and boast,even though it was ,I know, just a movie. Doesn't make me think much of Max Baer really. I remember him sitting in the dressing room in Yankee Stadium talking to the press after Joe Louis made him take a ten count on a knee while looking up at the referee Arthur Donovan.
"All I remember was that everything was like Harlem swirling around like a dark cloud."
I bet everyone on 125 th Street that night got a good laugh out of that one.



Humphrey Bogart

[chrisjs1985]

I had the pleasure of attending the Spence vs. Porter fight this past weekend and I've got to say it was probably the best fight I've seen in a local boxing ring for the best part of 5 years. Pleasantly surprised by a strong turnout, after initially thinking it didn't belong in LA.

[Chuck1052]

Bad Acting

Watched it again last night on TCM,The Harder They Fall.Humphrey Bogart's last movie before he died. He plays a down and out newspaper reporter(Eddie Willis) who's hurtin' for dough so he accepts an offer from a crooked fight promoter Nick Benko( Rod Steiger) who wants the scribe to travel with him and his new heavyweight "sensation" from Argentina,Toro Moreno(Mike Lane). The story runs a parallel with the history of Primo Carnera's venture as heavyweight fighter. Benko starts off his charge fighting east of the Mississippi where he's unknown and out of sight from the viewing public. Of course the fights are all rigged. Willis's job is to feed the back east papers with sensationalized accounts of Toro Moreno's string of quick KO's.Like Primo Carnera and his manger Leon See ,Toro and his manager, believe that everything is above board. The purpose off all this chicanery is to one:make tons of money with the bookies for Benko and his crew including Willis (which the profits never making its way into Moreno nor his manager's bank accounts),and two:finally put an abrupt finish to this dog and pony show when in the end Moreno gets his shot at the heavyweight title by fighting the champ Buddy Brannen(Max Baer).But unlike Carnera's shot with Jack Sharkey,Moreno doesn't know he's fighting on the level this time out. Buddy Brannen levels the big gaucho for the count with one hand tied behind his back.. Toro then wants to go back to Argentina without enough money to buy his plane ticket.

The thing that sticks in my craw about the movie(and I've mentioned this before)is that Buddy Brannen who's played by Baer comes off as a real A Hole. He's pissed off because in Moreno's prior fight,his opponent,Gus Dundee, played by ex pug and former champ Pat Comiskey(who Baer flattened in a round in a real fight in Jersey City)dies in the ring. The beef is that when Brannen beat Dundee to win the title he knocked him out cold - the concussion causing permanent brain damage. All Moreno had to do is tap him a few times to expediate the tragic finale.Willis writes it up that it was Moreno's savage blows that caused the Dundee's death. Brannen is upset because he knows that it was HIS beating of Dundee that precipitated the tragic ending,nothing to do with Moreno punches.When Dundee entered the ring that night with Moreno he was already a dead man walking.

I'll say it again. I can't believe they scripted lines for Baer commenting the aftermath of Dundee's death in the ring.Baer has a bone to pick with the sportswriter Eddie Willis.
"You wrote that story like it was Moreno that killed Dundee,but it was ME who really killed Dundee. I gave him such a beating that when he fought Moreno he was already dead.And that's what I'm going to do to Moreno when I fight him.I'm going to kill him."(sic)

We know about what Max did to Frankie Campbell.We know that Ernie Schaff's death( at the hands of Toro Moreno's carbon copy Primo Carnera) was a result of the beating handed to him by Max Baer. My question is,"Why would they want to script Max Baer to say those lines?In the film he really came across with mean intentions.Second question:"Why didn't Max Baer balk when he saw those lines he had to read in the script?" Nothing had to be said by Baer. Someone else in the cast could have gotten that across. I wonder what Schaff's and Campbell's family(the baseball player Dolph Camilli was Campbell's brother) thought when they saw Max Baer groping for an Oscar nomination?

It was stupid and tasteless for Baer to throw out his chest and boast,even though it was ,I know, just a movie. Doesn't make me think much of Max Baer really. I remember him sitting in the dressing room in Yankee Stadium talking to the press after Joe Louis made him take a ten count on a knee while looking up at the referee Arthur Donovan.
"All I remember was that everything was like Harlem swirling around like a dark cloud."
I bet everyone on 125 th Street that night got a good laugh out of that one.



Humphrey Bogart

I agree that Baer's character was totally unlikeable and tasteless in the film, The Harder They Fall. But ironically, Max Baer was known as a personable quipster, much like Art Aragon or Randy "Tex" Cobb, and a very likable fellow. Moreover, Baer's quips appeared to have been spontaneous, both in and outside the ring.

Primo Carnera was far from being the greatest fighter in the world and had a bunch of scheming characters around him. But Carnera certainly was a capable fighter with wins over some good, honest fighters. On the other hand, Toro Moreno was portrayed as a totally incompetent fighter who needed every one of his bouts being fixed in The Harder They Fall.

- Chuck Johnston

[dagosd2000]

Chuck
When I was a kid my parents liked to go to the Del Mar Race Track to bet the ponies.We'd always stop at the Del Mar Hotel after the races were over for a bite to eat.One afternoon I was at the outside snack bar at the hotel getting a hot dog.I turned around quickly and was face to belt buckle with Max Baer.I think he got close standing behind me on purpose in order to scare me when I turned around,and he certainly did that. You're right about him being a prankster.So was Eddie Haskell.

When Primo Carnera took to wrestling after his boxing career finished,I'd see him grapple once in awhile at the San Diego Coliseum.I remember one time one of the local reporters had him front of the TV camera for an interview. This guy kept pumping him about if he really was connected with the mob and his opponents went into the tank when he fought. Carnera,speaking in his broken English,got very upset with this guy.I thought this scribe was going to crap in his pants.


Da Preem

[dagosd2000]

Semper Fi

Dan Hanley remarked that his dad."Pops", favorite fighter was Carman Basilio. Carmen Basilio was my dad's favorite fighter too. Basilio was an Italian AND a Marine(Basilio boxed for the Corps) in WW II so that cinched it with my father-the part being a Marine. Rocky Marciano was Italian and the heavyweight champion of the world,but being serving in the Army was enough of a demerit to rank the Rock in second place behind the former onion farmer from Canastota,at least in my father's assessment.

Carmen Basilio was a man of few words unlike his legendary foil Sugar Ray Robinson. Sugar Ray wearing the flashy sport coats,the lye slicked back hair,the sawgger when he walked through Harlem followed by his entourage(he loved that word.It was befitting),leaning against his pink Cadillac parked in front of his various enterprises on 124th Street drawing a crowd of hero worshippers around him and his ca-,an intentional ploy that he needed constantly to sate his inflated ego. He was Sugar Ray Robinson, and then there was the rest of the fight world ,or the world far that matter. Even Joe Louis couldn't carry himself like Ray Robinson. Carmen Basilio was the antithesis to all that wind and smoke. What Robinson would show the public was a drafted role played to the hilt-an Oscar winning performance that wasn't an act.

Basilio only went to high school because the school had a physical education course in boxing. When the war broke out he enlisted in Marines,the toughest outfit in his opinion.He wanted to test himself.He wanted to serve his country thinking nothing of using that cliché to give his reason. But when the war was behind him, he now wanted to fulfill his dream of being a world champion in boxing. Onion farming was hard honest work,but it wouldn't put him inside Yankee Stadium fighting for a championship.

Basilio told the story about how he was working his way up the ladder in the early 50's when he spotted Ray Robinson in Manhattan surrounded by his entourage. The great Sugar Ray who Carmen respected.The guy Carmen wanted to perhaps fight one day.Carmen,with his wife beside him,reached out his hand to Robinson,but the unpredictable Robby was in one of his arrogant moods and gave Carmen and his wife the "brush off."The die was cast. Carmen's dago blood was boiling. Robinson never apologized for nothin' and wasn't about to turn over a new leaf. On the other hand,Basilio wasn't the sort to accept any regrets from someone who snubbed him and his wife on a public street.

I remember listening on the radio with my father te the blow by blow description when Basilio's dream came true winning the middleweight championship in Yankee Stadium from the guy he wanted to beat the most. My father was jumping up and down.I don't think he acted that way after the final battle on Okinawa. But then again,he was probably thinking ahead about the future invasion of the Japanese mainland knowing the 1st Division would be there to fight a country that was more than willing to commit suicide for the Emperor. Basilio might have been on the landing craft next to the one my father's,but two A bombs closed the show on WW II.

Basilio lost to Robby in Chicago in the rematch. Carmen heard the verdict pressing an ice pack on his swollen eye which he accurately said looked like a" plum. "A rubber match would have sold out any venue in the world,but Robinson was looking for something easier. Robinson kept on fighting .He was broke but his name filled enough seats to keep him in title fights. Carmen wasn't broke(he felt he could have had more money in the bank but figured his mangers spent that dough at the track and with the bookies).In 1961 Carmen threw in the towel after losing to Paul Pender.

Carmen Basilio will always be remembered as giving the fans their money's worth. He was always in top shape.When the IBHOF was deciding where to construct their hall,Carmen's hometown of Canastota was as good a choice to break out the hammer and nails.

I remember Basilio's fights with Gene Fullmer. The first fight was for the vacant middleweight title. Basilo was favored,but after a few rounds it was apparant that Fullmer was as strong as an ox. Carmen was a blown up welter who could trade with Robinson,another "small" middleweight,but against Fullmer he was overpowered. But what struck me about those two fights was that Basilio fought more tenaciously when he was bleeding and hurt.He probably was the same way with a Garand rifle in his hand.



Dan Hanley with his dad,"Pops"

[dagosd2000]

A Supreme Decision

When Muhammad Ali refused to serve his country after getting his draft notice,every boxing commission in all 50 states suspended his license to fight.The World Boxing Association followed suit stripping him of his title.. A federal grand jury convicted him of violating the Selective Service laws. It was now appeal time for Muhammad Ali draft dodger. When his appeal finally arrived to the Supreme Court,they ruled that objections to war on moral grounds are corrolated to religious beliefs and that the lower courts didn't make this clear,thus the conviction was overturned.Let's face it.The Vietnam War stunk and people(and that included everyone who was going to make a buck out of this)wanted to see Ali fight Frazier. If Ali hadn't have been Ali he would have gone to Leavenworth.The two unbeaten "champs" were now getting prepared to fight each other in Madison Square Garden in what was advertised as "The Fight Of The Century." I can name you a dozen fights after 1900 off the top of my head that were better than that one.The fight was a letdown.It was a letdown not because of Joe Frazier.We knew what he was going to deliver. It was a letdown because Ali's performance let us down.

Ali returned to the ring against Jerry Quarry in Atlanta. Jerry did his bleeding thing early so Tony Perez summoned the ring doc and the fight ended It was hard to tell if Ali was all the way back from that fight. We hoped so. Next up was Bonavena. Now this was going to be target practice. A slow moving tank on the receiving end of high caliber machine gun rounds by the fastest heavyweight who ever laced up the gloves. Before the banishment they were calling Ali a 200 pound Willie Pep. But that night in The Garden we saw what was to become the Ali we would have to accept from now on. He had lost his legs.The bounce wasn't there anymore,at least not for more than a few seconds per round.Ali weighed in at 212 pounds,a little high,but he could get that extra skin off against Frazier the next time. But then we got the shock treatment. Ali had "flattened out."He was pondorous. He wasn't circling,darting in and out.His legs didn't provide that movement anymore. Oh ,Ali was way ahead going into the 15th,but he wasn't his former self. Even Howard said on the broadcast that maybe Ali was "sick." Bonavena's lantern jaw collided with an Ali left hook(Ali rarely threw that punch) that came out of nowhere and it was a done deal. But we had seen something we never even saw with the beginning Clay fresh out of the Olympics. The speed in his gloves hadn't left him,but the pace in his step had gone pedestrian.

However, the Ali faithful would see him back in true form against Joltin' Joe they believed. But that fight was a glimpse of what we would see from the Greatest from now on.-the first of many Rope A Dopes. It wasn't brilliant strategy. Ali just couldn't get his legs going again. Like the old adage:'Once an athlete loses his legs he never gets them back."For a fighter that's extremely dangerous.

Cus D'Amato once carped, before the time Ali wouldn't step forward at the induction center, that we don't know how good a fighter Ali is because he never got staggered and had to fight when in trouble.Ol' Cus said that Marciano or Louis would have made Ali knuckle under, literally.

Prior to getting the Selective Service notice Ali was the fastest heavyweight who ever lived. During the comeback the "float"had left his step,But now Cus D'Amato and the rest of the world could see what his Ali's chin was made of.Ali also could take a punch better than any heavyweight who ever lived. Now the dago neighborhood is going to write me letters and say Marciano had the toughest beard,but let them waste their money on stamps. I got my mind made up.

And here's the point of all this.When people go back and forth about the merits of Ali,they find the flaws in his fights post Zora Folley. The Ali that fought and lost to Frazier,Foreman(I know.I know),Norton, Holmes(not to mention Spinks) wouldn't have laid a glove on the 25 year-old Louieville Lip.Joe Frazier would have made him work,but Ali would have made Joe swing at ghosts most of the way.

When I was younger getting my first looks at Cassius Clay,I was like Ol' Cus. I thought The Bear would stagger and hurt and knockout Cassius and put everything to rest. No.It was the beginning of an iconic journey of a fighter whose legacy would become a part of Americana.That Supreme Court ruling changed everything.That decision permitted Ali to redeem himself with the immortals.

When I used to read what some of the posters on the forum would say about Muhammad Ali being overrated,I'd think if that was the case the entire sport must be filled with a bunch of tomato cans.If you can call Ali a bum what's that make everyone else?

[dagosd2000]

Fighting The Other Guy's Fight

The three Powell brothers,Charley,Art,and Jerry, were pillars of the San Diego community:good students,clean lifestyles,family oriented,devoted Baptists,and all were tremendous athletes. They left their marks in their various sports endeavors.. Born and raised in Logan Heights in Southeast San Diego, their names were in the headlines in the sports pages.Jerry,the youngest, led the Lincoln High School football team to a CIF championship playing quarterback in 1967 and was voted by the scribes as the county's most valuable player. Art was in the middle. After graduating from San Diego High School he went to San Jose State on a football ride.After earning all conference recognition,he was drafted by the New York Titans of the new American football League. He quickly became an All Pro receiver. After his stint with the Titans he was traded to the Oakland Raiders where owner/coach Al Davis utilized Art's height and speed and became,with Lance Alworth of the San Diego Chargers,the two most dangerous receivers in the league.

Charley Powell was the oldest,and the best athlete of the three brothers. At San Diego High School in the early 50's he was the best in the county at baseball,track,basketball,and football. Possessing an Adonis body measuring 6 foot 3 inches in height and 230 pounds,he ran the 100 yard dash in 9.6 seconds,threw the shot put 58 feet,and led all the county baseball teams in home runs. He turned down an offer to play with the Harlem Globetrotters, at the time, the best team in basketball. When he was 19(the youngest player in the National Football League) he played defensive end with the San Francisco 49 ers. In his first game he sacked quarterback Bobby Layne of the champion Detroit Lions 9 times. But Charley Powell's true sports love was boxing.

After a brief amateur career,Charley made his pro debut in 1953.He had two savvy boxing vets in his corner,Suey Welch his manager,and Gorilla Jones providing the training.After going undefeated in his first 12 fights,he was stopped by the back east work horse Charley Norkus in San Francisco. After the Norkus loss Charley was trying to find himself going back to pro football while continuing with fighting. Charley later beat Norkus in San Diego at The Coliseum,but he was inconsistent.He stopped Nino Valdes,but eventually became a stepping stone.He lost his last three fights ,including on that path, a three round TKO by Cassius Clay in 1963.

After calling it a career in 1965,still dabbling with pro football,his fans thought that he should have stuck with being a pig skinner.When I was a kid I caught his fight on television with Mike DeJohn. DeJohn was the youngest brother of the fighting DeJohn family. Big bro Johnny was his manager who also handled Carmen Basilio. I sure wanted Charley to win big over Mike DeJohn.The fight was in DeJohn's hometown of Syracuse.It turned out to be the quickest fight on the tube that year,something like 40 seconds. I want to say that Charley didn't know what hit him,but after looking at this fight on YouTube over the years all I can say is Charley should have taken better acting lessons. But DeJohn's "gift" didn't parlay into a championship..When he had to get in there in real fights with Zora Folley and Eddie Machen he was exposed as one of those trodden stepping stones.

Charley Powell died a few years ago. He was on his way to San Diego driving from LA with his kids to attend a family function and suffered a heart attack. I would see Charley Powell with his two brothers at various sports banquets in San Diego. Though the trio was not in the national high profile zone like local Archie Moore,the Powells were held in equal esteem in San Diego. I talked to Charley Powell in 1996 when the Breitbard Foundation,San Diego's sports hall of fame institution,inducted him onto their honor roll. He was with his brothers.The were dressed to the nines and all three looked very distinguished. I asked him what it was like to fight Ali. He had an interesting answer.
"When you fought Ali you had to fight his fight. He made you chase him and all you could do is follow him around until he wore you out.I was a puncher but he was so fast I couldn't settle down and hit him solid. By the end you knew you were whipped."

There were a lot of fighters who chased Ali around the ring,at least before he got in trouble with the draft board. I never saw Charley Powell play pro football,but I would have liked to have seen him chase Bobby Layne all over the field that afternoon in Kezar Stadium in San Francisco. After the game Bobby could say he was whipped by a 19 year old kid.




Mike DeJohn And Charley Powell.

[dagosd2000]

Interlude

If I was to tell you that Frank Sinatra was highest paid singer in the 50's you probably wouldn't give me an argument. So who was the second highest paid singer? Perry Como.Ella Fitzgerald. Elvis. Nope. the correct answer is Edith Piaf. If you're born Red,White.,and Blue you've already perceived me as a liar. Edith who in the hell are you talking about. No. It's not a trick question. Edith Piaf was the second highest paid singer in the world. While the American public was drinking in Tony Bennett,Nat "King" Cole,Peggy Lee,and the onrush of that new teenage gobbledygook Rock N' Roll,Edith Piaf was singing before standing room only crowds in Europe.

Edith Piaf was born Edith Gassion in Normandy to parents who were vagabond circus people. Her mother sang and her father was an acrobat. Neither possessed the magic that was to elevate them past the back alleys or the countryside villages. Both mother and father indulged themselves with ample amounts of liquor and paramours. Edith's mother couldn't take care of her daughter to raise her prim and proper. Edith's father tried his hand at being a good dad,but gave up and brought Edith to his grandmother's place to be cared for. Howewer,grandma's house was one of ill repute.But the fallen flowers took the little bird under their wings, which didn't seem to traumatize Edith.

Edith went to Paris with her father after he wanted another shot at wanting to make a little lady of her,but he couldn't find enough time in his schedule,between the bottles of absinthe and the ladies of the street,to provide proper nurturing. So Edith and a female friend traversed the streets of Montmarte and Pigalle , Edith singing and her friend passing the cup. Edith may have been diminutive in stature, but God had blessed her with a set of pipes that would eventually make her the toast of the Continent. While belting out song after song in the boulevards and alleyways,a night club entrepreneur, while driving his car one afternoon, heard Edith's voice resonating through the quarter. He traced the sound until he came upon Edith and her friend panhandling. He asked Edith to sing at his nightclub(she was 16 by now).She had a small repertoire and she rehearsed until the owner of the club felt she was ready to make her mark. First,he bought her a plain black dress with a white collar(which would be her trademark wardrobe). Then he changed her name. Gassion didn't have that ring to it. Inspired,he bestoed on her last name to "Piaf" ,that is slang in French for "sparrow."

Edith in her debut was a Cinderella story. All the French notables were at their tables awed by the street urchin with the voice that sent had been down from heaven. Chevalier raved.The critics showered her with accolades. By the time the Germans invaded France,Edith had conquered Europe.

After the war ended Edith wanted to try the United States. She couldn't speak English,but thought that it wasn't important. She believed just listening to the song, without understanding the words,would captivate the audience anyway. She was wrong. Americans like to hear their songs in English.So she went back o France and studied English, returning to New York to perform at the Club Versailles . She had won the Yanks over.

While in New York,Marcel Cerdan was also in the Apple trying to get a toehold on the American boxing scene. Edith.who longed for some homespun "amies", invited Cerdan to the Versailles. During her performance the thunderbolt struck the fighter as hard as any punch. He was married and had a wife and children where they were living in Casablanca. Edith was a notorious man eater who went through males like a female black widow in heat. But this relationship was different for Madame Jezebel. Her former lovers were mostly of the same ilk:prospective young men trying to forge ahead with their show biz careers. Cerdan was already a star:the undeated European middleweight champion in the U.S. proving himself worthy of getting a shot at Tony Zale.He couldn't sing or dance,but he had out performed all of his opponents in the ring.The unison of Piaf and Cerdan was front page, flash bulbs a poppin'. The rumors swirled. The gossip stirred up excitement with the boxing public and the entertainment groupies.

Lucien Roupp had taken Cerdan to the brink of getting that title shot with Zale. But now from his viewpoint, Edith in all her glory and demands, had stepped between fighter and manager. The men she had all found boring in the end were kicked to the Parisian curb without a tear shed. Roupp was afraid the same consequence was waitng ahead for his fighter. Roupp thought she was a curse. And it came to bear when Cerdan lost for the first time, including relinquishing his European title, when Cyrille Delonoitt decisioned him in Brussels.Edith was there at ringside casting the evil eye,but the leer fell upon her beloved Marcel instead. When Cerdan finally got his crack at Tony Zale,it was apparant that the war had taken a lot out of him(not to mention three fights with Graziano).In the summer of 1949 Cerdan was the favorite in his first title defense to beat Jake LaMotta.But something psychic happened. Early in the fight Jake turned to being Lou Thesz and hip rolled Marcel to the canvas. There's no film of what actually happened,but Cerdan said that that flip dislocated his shoulder.Cerdan was sitting on his stool as the bell for the 10th round sounded. All Edith's shouts of "Keel eem Marcel" couldn't arouse a counter attack from her broken winged lover.

A rematch was in order. Cerdan,caving in to Lucien Roupp's insistence, went back to France to train,and get as faraway as possible from Edith Piaf who was still selling out venues in the United States. But the black widow needed nourishment. She pined for Marcel. Her singing reverberated with a longing in her voice fo her far away Marcel. She wired Marcel to return to America to be with her or she couldn't live any longer. After an argument with Lucien Ruopp ,Cerdan and his trainer Jo Longmann,Cerdan booked his flight.The plane,with everyone on board,crashed into the Atlantic Ocean.

Edith Piaf never recovered from this fickle fate. In time everyone knew their bond would be broken. She would tire of Marcel like she had grown weary of all the others,but SHE was the one that would shut the door. It was always on HER terms.But this was unbearable. It was her wire pleading that she could not go on without Marcel in her arms that made him want to return ahead of schedule. Her life at this point dropped into freefall.

Like all the others that have self destructed Edith Piaf could have written the handbook.The pills,the alcohol.the all night adventures with her sycophants in tow. She commanded,demanded,and flogged the ones who couldn't keep pace. The men in her life fell like cordwood. It was the untimely death of Marcel Cerdan that she could never rectify.

The year after Cerdan's death she wrote a song she titled 'Hymne a l' Amour",an homage to Marcel Cerdan.The song sold millions and made as much for her,but she refused any monetary compensation.."I don't want a penny for that song. It was written in memory for Marcel."

Edith Piaf had many male trophies on her mantle. She could be cruel and unforgiving,but she could also be generous to the point of being unpredictable. She made millions of dollars ,but was in hock up to her Parisian panties when she died. Money meant little to her. It was easy come, easy go. Though she seemed insensitive,mostly with her peers,she was inseparable from her adoring public. The death of Marcel Cerdan from then on made her sing and live life with an insatiable passion. Her dying made her sing to live the next breath. Marcel Cerdan and Edith Piaf are two names that came together like a story from Shakespeare. 'Star Crossed Lovers " is apropos.So is her song,"Histiore D' Amour".I disagreed with the American public who wanted Edith Piaf's songs translated. It was the way she sang,not understanding the words that meant anything at all. You could hear her sing ,not knowing a word of French,but you understood anyhow.



Edith Piaf



"

[dagosd2000]

Names Will Never Hurt Me

In my lifetime I've seen three fighters who came across to the public with this attitude that they wanted to cause great physical harm to their opponents. Even killing their opponent was in the realm of their focus. The three fighters are heavyweights. I know I could dig into the lower divisions and find a few that had similar ideas,but since the heavyweight division is the flagship of boxing I'll stick with these three names.

The first one to espouse a method of terror was Sonny Liston. After Floyd Patterson upset Archie Moore to win the vacant heavyweight title ,Liston was chopping down every fighter that stood in front of him in the ring. Sonny was an imposing man.When the average heavyweight was around 6 foot and 190 pounds ,Sonny was a giant.An inch over 6 feet and carrying 220 pounds of fighting weight,monstrous arms that ended with meat hook hands,an impassive face with vacant black eyes,and a speech pattern composed of mostly a few inaudible words.He acted like he didn't like to be talked to and his responses conveyed an underlined threat. He had served a stretch in the pen for killing a man(a manslaughter rap)to add to his sinister aura. His only loss was early in his career to a heavyweight by the name of Marty Marshall who had broken Sonny's jaw,but that victory was pyrrhic in the sense that Sonny prevailed to the end losing on points.Sonny would return to face Marshall two fights later knocking him down 4 times before the referee called off the slaughter. So while Patterson was defending against the likes of Hurricane Jackson who was showing signs of being unbalanced between the ears,an amateur fresh from the Olympics with no pro bouts under his belt,a lantern jawed Brit who was fighting because he was dead broke,and a cowboy from Texas;Sonny Liston was fighting the top guys like Nino Valdes,Cleveland Williams,Zora Folley,and Eddie Machen making short work of them with the exception of Machen who kept his distance.When Liston finally got Floyd to fight him it took less than two rounds in two fights to send the message that it would be wise for an opponent to take out a large life insurance policy before testing Sonny.

However, there was this brash kid fresh from winning Gold at the Rome Olympics that believed assuredly that the talent he brought to the ring was enough to destroy this myth of a man to what former champs like Joe Louis were saying -the greatest heavyweight of all time. Clay laughed it off. He named Liston The Bear. He made up poetry predicting the round that would end Liston's reign as title holder. The public and the odds makers thought Clay was delusional.

Sonny didn't like Clay calling him out all the time whether it was in the gym or in a gambling casino. Liston said he would shut his mouth inside two rounds. While Clay clowned,The Bear growled. His surly disposition began to work against him. He wanted to fight Clay at the drop of a hat.Going into the ring the 7 to 1 favorite Liston just amped up the already high strung Clay. His mouth was moving as fast as his feet and hands.

When it became evident early in Miami that Liston wasn't going whisk away this Louisville Lip,he resorted to fighting dirty by rubbing his liniment shoulder into Cassius's lamps. But even this sullied maneuver proved to bein vain. At the start of round seven Sonny spit out his mouthpiece and his championship remaining on his stool. The myth came tumbling down like bear loaded with buckshot.

Liston claimed a hurt shoulder.the fans rolled their eyes, and Clay became Muhammad Ali. Because Sonny was an ex felon he couldn't get a license to fight in New York so the rematch was held in a school gymnasium in Maine. What transpired was an episode that set back boxing.Fortunately for the sport,Ali went on to be the greatest while Sonny was trying to reestablish himself in places like Daley City and Reno. His fall was cavernous. The fighter that scared everybody was exposed against Ali as a lumbering inept ogre who looked hapless trying to catch up with Mr. Float Like A Butterfly. It was like someone had pantsed Sonny before the opening bell exposing a 2 inch pecker. He was laughable the first time in Miami. The Maine fight made his following turn their backs on him.

George Foreman was the next monster to arrive on the scene with that angry look. He hammered down all the flesh and blood that dared stand in his way. Another bogeyman of few words,heid exclaim that he wanted to "kill" a man in the ring. He tried his damnest. He wanted to kill Joe Roman,but somehow he escaped the graveyard. Then Big George launched Joe Frazier into the air in Jamaica and we now had the second coming of boxing invincibility. But the perennial foil Ali was still around. He wasn't floating like he used to so he resorted to lie on the ropes making big fellas' punch themselves out before asserting himself. The Rumble In The Jungle proved to be Foreman thinking that Ali would cave in like all the rest and that all he had to do is say"I'm going to kill you" and Muhammad would swoon. But Big George was looking like a big dummy heaving and puffing, swinging with all his might with every blow only to get roped like a dope and twirl clumsily to the canvas,Another myth blown to the wind. He tried to show the world he still was Thee Man by fighting 5 guys in a row one night in Toronto before a slippery Jimmy Young had George slippin' and slidin' in Puerto Rico. After that episode George was thinking of killing himself.

The third fighter on this merry go round was Iron Mike Tyson. Knocking out opponents who were beaten before they even stepped into the ring the fans thought this show was going to go on forever. Mike sneered and cursed and yelled grabbing his crotch calling the reporters white boy faggots and saw women as something to dip his wick into without any discussion Well,a 41 to 1 underdog who had just lost his mother while training for his fight with.Mr. Nasty wouldn't succumb to the Mike's scowls nor his punches. While Tyson was groping to find his mouthpiece on the canvas that Buster had dislodged we saw. another myth go down in flames. Afterwards, Mike went jail for forcing himself on a girl who wanted to refute his brusque love making After his release,two pathetic showings against Evander Holyfield and then the coup de grace at the hands of Lennox Lewis erased the bravado forever.

The issue with these three is that they felt they needed an edge.That advantage was to strike fear into their opponents by imposing the rhetoric that proved to be empty threats,They were knocking guys out left and right,but they had this inferiority deep down inside that they had to make a fight into a verbal felony. Joe louis never resorted to that. Neither Marciano.Dempsey didn't. Jack Johnson and Ali talked a lot ,but it was tongue in cheek. When a fighter pulls this crap about killing people and then the inevitable loss shows up on the radar,the mental consequences are devastating. To his credit George Foreman reinvented himself into a civilized human being. Tyson is still a work in progress.Sonny Liston died from an overdose of heroin.

Boxing is just a sport-a very tough sport,but it's intent is not to kill anyone,even if it's hype which with these three I don't think so. There are countless names of soldiers that were killed on the battlefield..Their fighting mandated killing.They knew that going in. They probably would never have become prizefighters. But boxers are not to be groomed for killing anybody. We've got soldiers to do that kind of stuff - and it's not inside a boxing ring.


George Foreman

[dagosd2000]

A Brief Conversation

Like I said before,every time I pass through Plaza Santa Cecelia in Tijuana I stop and poke my head inside Cheto's Boxing Gym. The other day was no exception. My wife was at the dentist getting her teeth cleaned so I decided I'd walked around a little.The day was sunny and warm,the sky clear.There weren't many people downtown.Things were moving slowly. I paced myself accordingly. I saw that Cheto's door was open,but I couldn't tell because of the glare outside if anyone was inside. When I walked in I saw right away that there was no one working out in the gym.There was an old guy sitting near the door at Cheto's seat with the Tijuana paper spread out on the desk. He didn't look up,but then it hit me. The old guy at the desk was one of the local fighters who was a common attraction on the weekly cards down here. I used to see him working out at the CREA in the Rio section of the city when boxing was going strong in Tijuana.That was many years ago.
"Didn't you used to fight in Tijuana way back when?"I asked him.
The old guy looked up from the newspaper.
"Yes. That was a long time ago,"he said.
The late afternoon light shining through the open door highlighted his face. It was a fighter's face:the fighter's nose,the calloused ears,the old scar tissue in his brows.His eyes,dark and overshadowed by his protruding forehead. His hair was gray now,but still full and combed back wavy. His copper skin was tough.His high Indian cheekbones and square jaw commanded attention. He cracked a smile. He was striking as hell.
"I remember you,"he said."You used to come in the CREA with Sergio.That's when Quirarte had his son in law Jibaro Perez fighting for the championship."
"I was working at CETYs coaching American football."
"I remember that,"he said widening his smile."Sit down please."
I took the seat across from his desk. He folded the newspaper.
"So what are you doing in Tijuana?"
"My wife is at the dentist so I took a walk. I always say hello to Cheto when I'm in the neighborhood."
"Cheto's not here now. He went to San Diego.I'm here watching things for him."
"I remember seeing you fight Lomeli at the Jai Alai Palace.That was a great fight."
"They threw a lot of money into the ring after that one."
I knew what happened after that fight,but I didn't pursue it further.However ,he did.
"After that fight I went up to Los Angeles and fought Luis Rodriguez."
I dummied up still.
"Rodriguez was the best fighter I ever fought.He anticipated everything I was going to do. I couldn't do anything I wanted."
"I remember that fight,but I didn't see it."
"That's how it goes.I was going good,but after that fight I slowed down."
"But you were still a good fighter."
I hung on a little too long. I made a little money. I'm okay now. I've got my health thank God except for this arthritis in my hands.The doctors want me to take these drugs but I won't do that."
"So what do you do?"
"I take these fish oil pills and some herbal concoctions. I buy them down here at the botanica. I don't want any side effects from drugs. Once those doctors get their hooks into you they won't let go."
"So do you live in TJ?"
"I live in Colonia Libertad. San Diego is expensive. I've got dual citizenship,but I prefer to live down here.I'm Mexican and like living with my people,but they can be a pain in the ass,"he laughed." I've got a nice house that's mine.i put in a fountain in the patio.Real Mexican,"he said laughing again.
"How's the family?"
"Fine thanks. My wife and I are together more now than I was when I was fighting. "
"So what keeps you busy?"
"I won't kid you.i get bored at times. My kids are grown up.They live on the other side. My daughter is a grammar school teacher in San Ysidro. My son is a surgeon in Orange County. I'm glad I had the money to send him to school.They're both married and have families."
"That must make you happy."
"My grandson plays soccer for the 18 and under team in Tijuana.The Xolos.I watch him play when they're here."
A couple of teenage looking kids walked in asking if Cheto was around.When they found out he wasn't they walked out the door.
"So how's the fighting in TJ lately? Cheto tells me there's nothing much happening."
"It's been pretty dead.The good fighters don't stick around. The promotors on the other side gobble them up or the ones here match them up across the border. The biggest fights down here are with the women."
"Well,there's nothing going on in San Diego."
"I'm just passing the time here."
"Did you ever get into training fighters?"
"I did a little of it,but I gave it up."
"Why's that?"
"Let me tell you something.Fighting is a very tough life. First a kid has to have some talent. Then he has to have the desire. He has to sacrifice. Then he has to have the right people around him. Most managers rob fighters blind. Fighters don't have much education. They don't understand the money end. Just get them the fights..And when they start going down everyone turns their backs on them."
"That's too bad."
"It's too much of a longshot."
"But you're okay."
"I'm luckier than most. I wanted to train fighters,but the good ones just don't fall in your lap. There used to be a lot of good trainers around waiting for that meal ticket to walk inside the door. They wait all their lives,but they never get a fighter that is going to put them on easy street. Today,there are very few good trainers around. That means there aren't many good fighters around. The sport is dying. The good fighters,managers,trainers,and promoters have cornered the market. You can't break into it."
"It sure has changed."
"Look.Even the great fighters wind up either punchy or broke or both.Why would I want to teach someone that life?"
"Did your son ever want to be a fighter?"
"He was kind of a mama's boy. My wife never saw me fight. I'm glad he wanted to go to school. That's the big beef I have with Mexico. They don't push education with the kids. The kids today in Mexico have no mentors. There's little hope. That's why they turn to things like crime or wanting to be a fighter instead of going to school.But making money with the cartels is easier than being a fighter unless you're one of these fighters who gets knocked out every week in these bars down here."
After that sermon there was a lull in the conversation.
"Tell me. If you had to do it all over again would you have been a fighter?"
"I would have done the same thing. I liked fighting. I wasn't that bad.Besides,I didn't know how to do anything else."


Luis Rodriguez

[dagosd2000]

Selling A Life

My granddaughter's husband came over to my place today to pick up his mail. He works two jobs at two of the swankier hotels down at the Embarcadero in San Diego.. He lives in Tijuana because it's easier for him to stretch his finances. On the side he promotes wrestling matches across the border. Most of his shows are at the Rancho Grande Bar on Revolution Street.
"When's your next event?,"I asked him.
"October 20th."
Do you ever think of putting on a show at the Auditorio Municipal?"
"I can't afford it. It's 4000 dollars."
"You still go down to Mexico City on put on shows?"
"I did a few."
"Ever have a show at the Arena Coliseo?"
He shook his head and smirked.
"That's crazy. It's 50,000 dollars to have a show there.But I've had events at smaller arenas in DF.."
"When I used to go to Mexico City I'd always try to catch a fight at the Arena Coliseo,"I said.
"It's mostly wrestling now."
"The Arena Coliseo is Mexico's Madison Square Garden.All the great Mexican champions fought there on their way up.I saw Ruben Olivares's last fight there."
"The last time I went to Mexico City was a few months ago. They said El Puas was trying to sell his championship belts. I couldn't locate him or I would have like to have had one."
"That's something.those old champs hold onto to the las. He must need the money."
"He lives in Tepito in an apartment in the middle of all the drug addicts and winos."
"At one time he was the most popular fighter in Mexico. I saw him fight when he was still champion and undefeated against this Japanese fighter in the old bullring.It was standing room only.The crowd went crazy."
"I sure would have liked to have gotten one of his title belts."
He was looking through his mail when I brought up the topic of what fighting used to be.
"I remember when Julio Cesar Chavez fought at the racetrack. He was still undefeated then."
"He's going to fight again in TJ."
"The son?"
"No ,the father."
"What's that all about?"
"The fight is to raise money to help Jose Luis Castillo's son.He's recovering from cancer."
"Who is Chavez going to fight?"
" 'Travieso' Arce. The fight will be at the Auditorio."
"Well,I'm sure it will be interesting. I doubt if anyone will get hurt. I hope they raise a lot of money."
"It's going to be a real fight."
I didn't say anything. I can't imagine it will be a knock down drag out affair. But I do remember that last fight with Olivares at the Arena Coliseo.. It was going to be his send off-a four rounder against a no name opponent.The Coliseo was filled with celebrities and musicians. I figured the other guy would flop as soon as he got hit on the shoulder. But it was Ruben who got laid out that night. His opponent clipped him on the arm, and Ruben did that old man reaction of hanging in the air and then dropping like a lead weight. It was very embarrassing.

Now he's living with the low lifers in the notorious Tepito where he grew up. He isn't getting showered with adulation.Like everyone else that lives in Tepito he has to watch his ass. No one cares if he was once the greatest fighter in Mexico. In fact the thugs look at him somewhat as a fool.He had the world in the palm of his hands ,and now he wants to sell his championship belts.

All I can say is I hope he sells them before someone breaks into his place and robs him,or worse yet kills him in the process.

Ruben Olivares today