Classic American West Coast Boxing

[dagosd2000]

The Champion Nobody Knew

That title isn't really my line.When the story went to print in 1950,the scribe,Gordon Cobbledick,(why didn't that guy change his name?)wrote it,"The Fighter Nobody Knows." So right off the top of your head who was Cobbledick referring to?Quick.you got ten seconds.........................................................................................Times up.If you guessed Joey Maxim you win a kewpie doll.If you followed Maxim's career at any length you knew he was italian.Maxim's first manager changed his young fighter's name from Giuseppe Berardinelli to Joey Maxim.Good for him.You'd run out of breath trying to say his real name. Joey was a Cleveland boy and never gave it a thought to live anywhere else.

You look at his record and one of the first things you notice is that he didn't have a lot of KO's on his resume.it was that fact alone that put the idea in Cobbledick's head to title his piece "The Fighter Nobody Knows."Also when you scan his career you add up close to 120 times Joey climbed into a boxing ring as a pro.

But the thing that always impressed me about Maxim was that in all those fights he was only stopped once.Curtis "Hatchet Man "Sheppard worked the impossible in Joey's backyard putting away the goomba in less than a minute into the first round. Joey didn't see the punch coming and he laid there on the canvas like he'd been shot at point blank range. The ring doc was summoned but on his way to the ring the promoter suffered a heart attack. So the doc had to work on the guy who was going to sign his check before went over to see how Joey was feeling. Everybody survived,but two weeks later Maxim was back in the ring with Sheppard.

Maxim never gave it much thought that a guy called "Hatchet Man" might be someone you wouldn't want to fight again.Later,Maxim said that the doctors of today wouldn't have let him get back in there on only two weeks rest. But then was then and Joey punched,bopped,and sidestepped "Hatchet Man" winning 9 of the 10 rounds like he could have done it with his eyes closed. After the fight all Joey could think of was "who's next?"

Joey was never a big draw. One.he was in that division that was like the heavyweight minor leagues.Two.he couldn't break an egg even with his gloves off.But lacking KO power never bothered Maxim. He knew he couldn't punch like Joe Louis,but he had a philosophy about that. He figured if he could outhit his opponent, as the fight progressed, the amassment of blows would not only earn him the decision but would take the fight out of the other guy.After ten rounds the lumps on the guys head would make him think that he would have felt better if Joe Louis had done away with him in a round or two.

When Joey Maxim flew across the pond to fight Freddie Mills for a unification of the light heavyweight title,here in the U.S. it drew about as much interest as reading yesterday's newspaper. But in jolly 'ol England the fans took to the Italian boy. You see Maxim's style was like the way they fought in Europe.-jab and stick,stick and slip,move around in the classic upright stance.Winning on points was clean and just as noteworthy as clubbing a guy to the mat in one round. Too bad they didn't have a big Italian neighborhood in London.No.Joey liked his pasta and the big cities on the east coast where Italians always got a big hand when they entered the ring. Besides,fish and chips ain't the way Joey liked to eat those little critters who swam around in the ocean. Put in some noodles and a nice marinara sauce,and who knows?Joey might have been invited to The Royal Wedding.

The champion nobody knew. That's the way it stands now with the history of Joey Maxim. He beat some of the best and lost to some of the best. When I was a kid in the dago neighborhood in Chicago I never heard much mention of Joey Maxim. He was kind of a footnote.An afterthought.He was fighting in a time when Marciano,LaMotta,Willie Pep,and Rocky Graziano who were the paisans that were talked about in the pool hall.When Archie Moore finally put a stop to Maxim's reign,the Old Mongoose ,after it was over, didn't jump around the ring like a Jack In The Box. Funny thing happened though on the way to the championship. Doc Kearns, who was handling Maxim, made a deal before the fight that he would become Archie's next guru after all was said and done. If you think you didn't know much about Joey Maxim you are even more in the dark about what went on with those pre fight arrangements.



Hey.you now this guy?

[Chuck1052]

The Champion Nobody Knew

That title isn't really my line.When the story went to print in 1950,the scribe,Gordon Cobbledick,(why didn't that guy change his name?)wrote it,"The Fighter Nobody Knows." So right off the top of your head who was Cobbledick referring to?Quick.you got ten seconds.........................................................................................Times up.If you guessed Joey Maxim you win a kewpie doll.If you followed Maxim's career at any length you knew he was italian.Maxim's first manager changed his young fighter's name from Giuseppe Berardinelli to Joey Maxim.Good for him.You'd run out of breath trying to say his real name. Joey was a Cleveland boy and never gave it a thought to live anywhere else.

You look at his record and one of the first things you notice is that he didn't have a lot of KO's on his resume.it was that fact alone that put the idea in Cobbledick's head to title his piece "The Fighter Nobody Knows."Also when you scan his career you add up close to 120 times Joey climbed into a boxing ring as a pro.

But the thing that always impressed me about Maxim was that in all those fights he was only stopped once.Curtis "Hatchet Man "Sheppard worked the impossible in Joey's backyard putting away the goomba in less than a minute into the first round. Joey didn't see the punch coming and he laid there on the canvas like he'd been shot at point blank range. The ring doc was summoned but on his way to the ring the promoter suffered a heart attack. So the doc had to work on the guy who was going to sign his check before went over to see how Joey was feeling. Everybody survived,but two weeks later Maxim was back in the ring with Sheppard.

Maxim never gave it much thought that a guy called "Hatchet Man" might be someone you wouldn't want to fight again.Later,Maxim said that the doctors of today wouldn't have let him get back in there on only two weeks rest. But then was then and Joey punched,bopped,and sidestepped "Hatchet Man" winning 9 of the 10 rounds like he could have done it with his eyes closed. After the fight all Joey could think of was "who's next?"

Joey was never a big draw. One.he was in that division that was like the heavyweight minor leagues.Two.he couldn't break an egg even with his gloves off.But lacking KO power never bothered Maxim. He knew he couldn't punch like Joe Louis,but he had a philosophy about that. He figured if he could outhit his opponent, as the fight progressed, the amassment of blows would not only earn him the decision but would take the fight out of the other guy.After ten rounds the lumps on the guys head would make him think that he would have felt better if Joe Louis had done away with him in a round or two.

When Joey Maxim flew across the pond to fight Freddie Mills for a unification of the light heavyweight title,here in the U.S. it drew about as much interest as reading yesterday's newspaper. But in jolly 'ol England the fans took to the Italian boy. You see Maxim's style was like the way they fought in Europe.-jab and stick,stick and slip,move around in the classic upright stance.Winning on points was clean and just as noteworthy as clubbing a guy to the mat in one round. Too bad they didn't have a big Italian neighborhood in London.No.Joey liked his pasta and the big cities on the east coast where Italians always got a big hand when they entered the ring. Besides,fish and chips ain't the way Joey liked to eat those little critters who swam around in the ocean. Put in some noodles and a nice marinara sauce,and who knows?Joey might have been invited to The Royal Wedding.

The champion nobody knew. That's the way it stands now with the history of Joey Maxim. He beat some of the best and lost to some of the best. When I was a kid in the dago neighborhood in Chicago I never heard much mention of Joey Maxim. He was kind of a footnote.An afterthought.He was fighting in a time when Marciano,LaMotta,Willie Pep,and Rocky Graziano who were the paisans that were talked about in the pool hall.When Archie Moore finally put a stop to Maxim's reign,the Old Mongoose ,after it was over, didn't jump around the ring like a Jack In The Box. Funny thing happened though on the way to the championship. Doc Kearns, who was handling Maxim, made a deal before the fight that he would become Archie's next guru after all was said and done. If you think you didn't know much about Joey Maxim you are even more in the dark about what went on with those pre fight arrangements.



Hey.you now this guy?

Joey Maxim had a very effective, unattractive boxing style which often gave his opponents fits. Far too many of his bouts were boring.

- Chuck Johnston

[dagosd2000]

Joey Maxim had a very effective, unattractive boxing style which often gave his opponents fits. Far too many of his bouts were boring.

- Chuck Johnston

You're exactly right Chuck.Maxim knew he wasn't a crowd pleaser.But he knew if he wanted to continue fighting a lot and for a long time his style would get him through.And he also played ball with the Mob.He got the short end and the long end. Believe it or not he loved fighting. He was in the gym when he was 12 years old.Though he respected Doc Kearns,Maxim said that he taught himself how to box without anyone's help.He never wanted to work a regular job. He knew that if he stayed active he could support his family.He wasn't a womanizer nor a drinker. He never read a book in his life.He never made excuses.Talk about great chins-he had one of the best.There were people that told Cus D'Amato not to rush Floyd Patterson into a fight with him. Joey was on his last legs but he still had enough left to hand Patterson his first loss.Maybe now some people will know a little more about him.


Hey.I know that guy.

Chuck,I just got to thinking what you said about Maxim's style.Off the top of my head here's 3 boring fighters-Bernard Hopkins,Winky Wright,and Floyd Mayweather

[dagosd2000]

Have A Cigar

There's a thread asking if anyone knows of a fighter(s) that won't sign autographs. I haven't run into any fighter that won't take a little time to give a fan his signature. I haven't even seen a fighter that first asks for some money up front before signing his name.

I think this autograph quest started around 40 years ago when Willie Stargell,the future Hall Of Famer for the Pittsburgh Pirates, was tying to raise some money for a charity and asked the fans that he'd pen his name for 5 bucks pop.Then in the 90's this sports memorabilia craze took off and now athletes knew they could pick up some extra coin selling their signatures for money,and there were plenty waiting in line for an autographed ball or even on a piece of toilet paper. But it didn't stop there.Even the dead athletes that had signed something before they went to their Fields Of Dreams would have rolled over in their graves to know that their autographs were selling for as much as the price of gold.But then greed manifested itself into the sordid business of fake signatures and the sports card companies oversaturated the market with every type of sports card imaginable just in time for the economy to hit the skids. I remember when a Cal Ripkin autograph on a ball would buy dinner for two at a posh restaurant, then afterwards a couple of ducats center aisle at a Broadway play, and then to call it a night cab fare home.Today,Cal's signature might get you a meal at the Sizzler only if you had a coupon to make up the difference

When all the major sports in the U.S.(and I'm not going to include soccer/football.You know that game where you can't use your hands only your feet to kick the ball into the net)I'd say boxing,which I'd classify as a major sport,was probably the most accessible when approaching a fighter for a free autograph.

I like to attend these boxing events put on by the various organizations that still have enough money in the till to put on these shows. There's zilch going on in San Diego,but thanks to people like Rick Farris and the late but ornery Don Fraser these boxing functions,if nothing else.bring fighters together.It's a treat for the fans.The fighters past and current in LA,from what I've gleaned,stay pretty much in touch. But to think that Ray Leonard invites Roberto Duran over to his house for barbeque is a fantasy.


I think it was the last time (2011?)the World Boxing Hall Of Fame sat down together at the Marriott Hotel ,just a click from the LA International Airport,that the fellas got together with the fans to induct the legitimate and to swap stories.And of course to eat the chicken dinner. Between the various agendas there was some down time where the fighters got to circulate and mix with the fans, and as usual there were plenty that had their pens in hand and stuff to sign.Most of the autograph hounds were tame puppies. A little pushy but harmless.They had no ulterior motives.But then there were the non fans. the guys I call "the sharks."They were the greedy creeps that wanted to amass as many autographs possible so that they could turn around and sell them on Ebay.

One afternoon during a break i saw Bobby Chacon sitting with his caretaker Rosie in the lounge. Bobby by then was behaving like a unpredictable 6 year old,but nobody minded. it was Bobby.He was already one hell of a legend. He was still fighting life even after the final bell had rung and that was a long time ago.Sometimes he was impish,and then in a flash he'd turn cranky. He was a handful for Rosie and anyone else who came across his path. Bobby used to make my wife laugh. He was like one of those mentally challenged kids. Mexicans look at people like that as someone special. They're in God's orbit.Well,there was Bobby and Rosie sitting on a big couch in the lounge, kind of oblivious to the surroundings, at least for the moment(Bobby I think was always oblivious)Then I saw them .The sharks in their sharkskin suits coming in to feed.They had suitcases of stuff and they wanted Bobby's John Hancock on all of it.

By then you never knew what to expect with Bobby. Would he be the impish child or like that devilish kid Anthony that was in that Twilight Zone episode where he put everyone he didn't like in the cornfield. Well, Bobby was minding his P's and Q's even though he had that ever twinkle in his eye. The sharks sensed that he was passive for the moment and swooped in like a U Boat pack.
"Hey Bobby,"one of the man eaters bellowed."How would you like a cigar?"
By this ime it was too late for Rosie to call it off.bobby ;popped up like a Jack In The Box.
"Sure,"Bobby said grabbing the cigar out of Jaws' hand. "You got any more?"
"Sure Bobby.We got all the cigars you want.By the way you think you can sign your name on these things.?"
The rest of the fish swarmed over Bobby opening portfolios and briefcases like they were going to encamp there for a week.Bobby didn't even know what he was signing or what for. Hell.He was getting free cigars. He just had to wait for those A holes to take them out of their packs that's all.In the meantime Bobby lit one of the stogies with the help of an extended fin.As he puffed away you could smell the menthol all the way to the airport.
"You like that cigar?"asked one of the hammerheads.
Bobby didn't answer .He was scribbling away like a little kid in kindergarten. Rosie moved to the end of the couch and sulked.
"Bobby you think you can come back to tomorrow and sign some more things.We'll have more cigars?"asked the predator.
Then the unexpected happened. Bobby's switch clicked. He was now Anthony from the Twilight Zone. He was thinking of the cornfield.
"What makes you think i like cigars?"he snapped. "Cigars! Go f--k yourself.I hate cigars. You know I hate cigsrs.I'm going to kick your ass!"
By now everyone near by was watching this.Rosie got up and stood behind the couch. Bobby stood up with clenched fists.
"i'll show you!",Bobby roared."You can't do that to me. I'll show you!"
Before he could cut lose on this guy his buddies swam for deeper water.But the Coast Guard had already come in to the rescue including myself. Rosie was glad it was over. Bobby wanted to go after them still but was caught in a net of arms holding him back.

That was Bobby. Mando Muniz would always say that when Bobby pulled one of those stunts.
"That's Bobby."
But those guys got what they wanted.All those signatures. Now they could sell them for whatever a Bobby Chacon autograph was going for in those days. Now that Bobby's gone I'm sure if those guys still have some left they can raise the price. Ain't life grand?

Bobby and Rosie holding my gift.I know my wife misses Bobby.But she always says that with a little twinkle in her eye

[dagosd2000]

I'm Pretty

When Cassius Clay was cutting his swath through the heavyweight division,oh back in the early 60's,the only guy who stood in his way was Sonny Liston.And one of the ways Clay was self promoting himself was that he'd move close to the camera,start caressing his face, and say in a very assuring tone of voice,"I'm pretty."
But he always had explanations to back up his reasoning.
"I'm not ugly like other negroes that have those wide noses and thick lips.My skin is light and my lips are thin and my nose isn't spread all over my face. I'm pretty,"he'd say carefully roaming with his hand the different areas of his mug and then stop at a particular feature and tell the audience why his image was so attractive like if you didn't know by now something was wrong with you. In other words he was saying he was pretty because he looked more like a white man.

But he never got any heat from the black community talking about his paleness that in his mind was an attribute instead of a handicap.As long as he could predict the rounds and walk the walk the younger generation of blacks were finding their hero. But his boasting was before he was taken, or taken in, by the Black Muslims. He stopped talking of his white genes after he had a sit down with Elijah Muhammad.

When mainstream society would talk about who were the most beautiful black women,in those pre World War 2 times and shortly after,two names would jump out-Lena Horne and Dorothy Dandridge. But those were white guys that would grant that they were beautiful and if their wives weren't looking they'd fantasize about a roll in the sack with either one of them or both at the same time.For most ,if those guys if they had to choose between Marilyn Monroe or Dorothy Dandridge...well the color of Dotty's skin ,as light as it was,emitted a lot more carnal craves than that dumb blond.Being dumb might be a little frustrating in bed. A bit mechanical.No screaming.

So then the illusion was that Cassius,Lena,and Dotty were better looking because they didn't look as much as the stereo type black woman?And that stereo type was typed on the white man's typewriter.

Think about the BLM movement and what they'd say if they heard that black is more beautiful if you looked less black?I wonder if Joe Louis bedded Lena Horne because she reminded him of another of his conquests-Lana Turner? And in turn what was Lena seeing?Joe didn't exactly resemble Billy Eckstine.


He was prettier than Floyd. But beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

[dagosd2000]

Mr. B

Billy Eckstine was one of those singers whose voice transcended all ranges of contemporary music during a career that spanned more than 50 years from when he started singing and playing trumpet with Earl "Fatha" Hines' band in 1940 until he suffered a stroke while singing a one nighter on stage in an obscure bistro out in Salinas,Kansas in 1992. But his bread and butter was singing.He possessed a rich smooth and sensuous voice that intoned the gamut of all the entrees on the menu of the American songbook. He could be in front of a big band,work beside a trio ,or solo by himself capturing an audience. In 1944 he formed his own band during the time when modern music was on the cutting edge. Though he wasn't a jazz singer per se,his band had some of the best young musicians who couldn't wait to take a solo and show how improvising wasn't a cute little riff all tied into a bow after a few bqrs. Sitting behind those music stands were groundbreakers like Charlie Parker,Dizzy Glllespie,Dexter Gordon,Fats Navarro,Art Blakey,and Sarah Vaughan. Unfortunately the band only lasted a year because the public's ears weren't accustomed to hearing the stratospheric adventures that emanated from their instruments. There are no recordings of any of their stuff. If there's an acetate hiding in a trunk in some attic somewhere it's probably under the Holy Grail.

Billy Eckstine was one of the nicest guys out there.He helped a struggling musician get a gig or had his hand out,could sit in downtown at and do a duet with Sinatra at the Copa and when the lights turned off would hail a cab and go uptown and sing set with Cab Calloway at Smalls Paradise in Harlem.

As his popularity grew so did his attention with the ladies-of all color. The music mags had his face on their covers. But when Eckstine's image appeared in a three part series in Life magazine there were many around ,especially south of the Mason /Dixon Line that thought Billy's good looks were drawing the stares of white womanhood. Sammy Davis would have that appeal during the culture change of the mid 60's with the non negro females but that didn't jive well with the white establishment in 1950. When Life Magazine put his face on the cover on newsstands in Times Square there cancellations.Now if Life Magazine would have put Louie Armstrong's face on the cover white husbands would have felt safe. But Billy Eckstine's face?The man the cats called Mr. B,that personable impeccably dressed guy with that smooth voice to add to his good looks. (And he had to have that pencil thin mustache too?)

Well,Billy and his mustache weren't welcome in certain quarters especially if unescorted non negro ladies were buying the tickets.(See what you started Billy)But the man COULD sing.Sing as good as any white singer.Oh,Nat Cole was just behind him,but Nat was the negro that posed a lesser threat,at least on the surface.He was VERY black.He didn't have the white features from head to chin like Mr. B. He got a pass. Mr. B had to be careful.

But Billy's peers,his fans,the music world regardless of genre( except the pluckers south of the Mason/Dixon Line)they knew the real article. Mr. B could swing or tear at your heartstrings. No two ways about it.


Mr. B



I Apologize

[dagosd2000]

A Dubious Purpose

Do you ever get to thinking what kind of impact a trainer has on a fighter?Oscar De La Hoya had 8 trainers during the course of his career and for the likes of me I couldn't tell the difference in the way he handled himself in the ring. His style was the same. He was the same guy in the ring for every fight as far as I was concerned. After he let go of the rope in the last two rounds against Trinidad he began to doubt himself. Then he began switching trainers like a woman trying on hats in front of a mirror in a fashion store. What did he want from all these guts?They certainly were the best money could buy.Roberto Alcazar and Jesus Rivero jumped started him off to an impressive start. He had beaten a great fighter ,Pernell Whitaker,outslicked the slick Macho Camacho,stopped the Mexican legend J.C. Chavez twice,and and put a loss on the undefeated Ike Quartey.I thought he might never lose. Then came Felix and I could see as the fight went along that Oscar didn't want to put his face into it. I don't know what happened inside his head after the 10th round. Did his corner tell him he had the fight won?All he had to do is get on his bicycle and last?it was his undoing,but we didn't see the effect until he couldn't rebound in a big fight throughout the rest of his career.His wins over Vargas were good,but not exceptional because Fernando wasn't.

Then in 1999 Oscar's parade of trainers started.there was Gil Clancy.Oscar wasn't satisfied.Then he employed Floyd Maywether the dad.Again,Oscar was looking for something else.That something else was Freddie Roach.But it was the same 'ol Oscar. Maybe he thought Nacho Beristain would work magic.He couldn't pull the rabbit out of the hat either. Finally,Angelo Dundee was brought in to camp on his last legs. Result;nada.

Freddie Roach commented later that Oscar's problem wasn't in his physical ability,but between his ears.So with all these high end trainers in Oscar's camp there wasn't much to choose from .He kept on losing the big ones.

I've seen some pretty good boys in the gym:Muhammad AliJose Napoles,Julio Cesar Chavez,Luis Rodriguez,Denny Moyer,and Ken Norton to name a few.With the exception of Norton I never saw Angelo Dundee for example(who had four of the seven fighters I mentioned)instruct any of those guys on how to fight. Eddie Futch ,who was training Norton, would stop a sparring session and take him aside to correct something but that was it. When I was in Archie Moore's club for boys i realized that Archie was a self taught product. Jake LaMotta never listened to what his corner told him.The other day i relayed the info that Joey Maxim was the same-a self taught. Sugar Ray Robinson?He learned on the fly and he was the best.

The more a fighter fights the more he learns.He picks something up in each fight. i saw Mando Muniz lose to Emile Griffith who had faced the best in a long career. Emile schooled Mando. After the fight Mando knew that Emile gave him a pass by not trying to KO him.

When I saw PacMan and Pretty Boy finally get in the ring to settle the argument I was stunned after watching the first round. Manny wanted to fight Floyd in the center of the ring. I ain't Freddie Roach ,but I knew there was no way Pacquiao was going to outbox Mayweather. What was Freddie Roach thinking?

I'll never forget Angelo Dundee commenting years after Clay's fight with Doug Jones.Ange said that he got all over Cassius's ass about keeping his gloves up. Jones almost shocked the world by sending Clay into the cheap seats with a right hand shot. Angelo laughed and said he never mentioned another word to The Louisville Lip about how to fight.

It's kind of a similar question about the guy conducting the orchestra.if he walked away during the performance would the musicians stop playing? I don't think so.

Angelo Dundee

[dagosd2000]

He Was All Dago

Next to the Pope(when Popes were still Italian[Pope Pius 12 was on the throne]), Rocky Marciano was the biggest celebrity in all the Italian neighborhoods across the country and if an Italian didn't happen to live in an Italian neighborhood it didn't matter.Rocky was still the biggest paisan of all the paisans regardless even if a dago called Timbuktu his hometown. I remember when Rocky won the championship from Jersey Joe Walcott. The Rock had a lot of those dagos biting their nails. Walcott came out swinging and had Rocky down. In the middle rounds he was bleeding and hurt and his corner instead of using towels to get the blood off his face used sponges that ran the blood into his eyes. When the bell for the hard luck round rang Jersey Joe just had to play it safe the rest of the way and all those goombas would have gone home and kicked their dogs. But Jersey Joe let his guard down coming off the ropes and Rocky unloaded his Suzy Q and Joe was no longer the champ. Now Fido would get a big bone instead.

Rocky could do no wrong.I mean he was the HEAVYWEIGHT champ. Now the talk in the pool room would put those smaller guys like Pep and LaMotta on the back burner. Rocky's first hurdle was Joe Louis. I remember that one too. There wasn't a fighter who aged more profoundly than Joe Louis. I don't remember Louis in his prime but here was a guy who was the heavyweight champ longer than FDR was president. Louis was never the underdog in a fight ,and after watching Marciano send him through the ropes onto the ring apron it was hard to believe what the oddsmakers were thinking.Rocky said afterwards that he could have gotten Joe outta' there in 2,but didn't have the heart to do so. He walked into Joe's dressing room after it was over and broke down. Louis ,typically the class act told, Marciano not to shed any tears.He was the better man in the ring. Life goes on.I'll be OK. Best of luck.

But on the street after that fight it was like the resurrection of the Roman Empire. All those greaseballs were celebrating like Rocky had won the war all by himself. I kinda' thought that it wasn't THAT great an accomplishment. Hell,Joe looked like an old man with that solar plate on his head.He couldn't get a decent punch off. And then in the end, his leg dangling on the lower rope.it was a reflex action for that scribe to go come over and disentangle it . No one wanted to see something like that.

Not in my lifetime will I see another Italian heavyweight champion. And I don't mean an Italian from Italy like Carnera who the Italian neighborhood wanted to embrace but winced every time they said his name. No.Rocky Marciano was an Italian.Oh,he happened to be born in the United States but that didn't matter much.It's not like Oscar De La Hoya who was "Mexican" but a Chicano. Mexico never took to him because he was a Mexican/Gringo.

Whenever I go to Italy the dagos over there have higher esteem for Marciano than their homegrown Da Preem.I'm surprised Al Weill didn't set something up over there for Rocky. But then I got to thinkin'.The Camorra doesn't like outsiders comin' in a dictating the terms.So Rocky stayed in the good 'ol USA and retried undefeated. When the discussion of who was the greatest of all the heavyweight champs is tossed around the bar stools in what they used to call "The Patch",Rocky's claim to fame was that he never lost a fight.No one else could match that. Early in his career there was that fight with a pro named Epperson that Riocky won,and then he stepped back into the amateurs and lost one,and then went pro again. So he never lost a pro fight and I'll let it go at that, Besides,I don't want to go into the pool room and split hairs with that Epperson story. I don't need a pool cue cracked over my head.


Rocky Marciano

[dagosd2000]

Hard Cash For Soft Leather

When Muhammad Ali was in town to fight Ken Norton Ken and him were training at the Town and Country Hotel in one of the banquet rooms they had temporarily set up as a gym-a ring,punching bags, and floor mats.The workouts were free to watch and Ali was his entertainingly self pacing the ring with microphone in hand saying the first thing that popped into his head.Probably if he taken Ken Norton more seriously he might have won that fight. But instead of breaking a sweat he wanted his audience to break out in grins at his corny humor. To tell the honest to God truth,the workouts were more rewarding to watch than the fight.

Prior to the fight Ali was planning to put on a training session in Tijuana. Not an exhibition match but a routine workout.He would bring with him his steady trio of sparring partners that he had defeated earlier in his career during his rise to fame and fortune.There was Billy Daniels,Alonzo Johnson,and Sonny Banks to bang away on Ali's body.That's the way Ali wanted them to perform.Ali figured he'd get hit a lot now that his legs had gotten heavy so he'd lie against the ropes and have his sparring partners tee off. I don't know what was going on in Angelo Dundee's mind but he had given up trying to tell Ali what to do since the time Doug Jones almost upset him in Madison Square Garden. Angelo was barking at Ali to keep his gloves high like the textbook says but that wasn't how the mostly self taught Louisville Lip did business inside the ring. The fight was close.Ali didn't look sharp.And Angelo kept his mouth shut after that.

Every lamppost and telephone pole had a poster nailed to it advertising the Muhammad Ali show that was to come to TJ. But at the 11th hour it was cancelled. I didn't get any dope why but I think that Ali mulled it over and thought(righteously so)that his brand of humor and self absorption would have laid a big huevo. Mexicans aren't into a chatterbox who thinks too highly of himself and that his jokes are funny.

I grabbed a few of those posters(they were in Spanish and English) and gave them away to friends.I look back now and wished I'd kept one for myself. But Ali did make a "beer run" to TJ. Prior to the fight he had heard that Cleto Reyes boxing gear was available at a sporting goods store a block west of Revolution Street on Constitution called Deportes Viking(pronounced BEE-keeng)He came back with some gloves and a beautiful heavy bag.He set up the heavy bag inside the makeshift gym at the Town and Country. Ironically,I didn't see Ali hit that bag much and when he did it didn't make much of a noise. However,Ken Norton used that bag like he had put Ali's picture on it and you could hear the whacks all the way out into the parking lot.

A few years back I was walking along Constitution Boulevard and saw Deportes Viking. It's a small store that mainly equips the local sports teams(mostly futbol[got that right]).It's been there for years and is kind of a landmark. But the way the world has gotten global and with the new trade agreements being implemented, a lot of the local TJ teams buy their stuff in the U.S.I wanted to go inside Viking to check on their stock and compare prices.

The shelves were sparse with equipment.Mostly clothing for futbol(how am I doing?).There was a guy at the counter and I was the only one besides him that was breathing the air inside.
"I'm interested in buying some Cleto Reyes gloves,"I announced (a lie).
"I'll show you what we have,"
He led me to the end of the counter to a big glass showcase. Inside were gloves(for all purposes and models),head gear,protective cups,and speed and heavy bags. The heavy bags were laid flat.
"What s the price of regular boxing gloves in U.S. dollars?"I asked him.
"We have red and black for 189 dollars.If you want another color we can order them for you for an extra 20.Delivery will take two weeks."
"Thanks. I tell you what.I'm with my wife right now. She's shopping but I'll come back(another lie)
He thanked me. Mexicans ,even if you don't buy anything, will say" thank you."

I was surprised at the cost of the gloves.Everlast gear is a bit cheaper.But Reyes has a pretty good rep today. I remember Frank Baltazar asked me around ten years ago if Deportes Viking was still around. He had taken his son ,Frankie,there to buy some equipment when his son was fighting up in LA.I know they say that Reyes leather is soft and easy to work with.In San Diego I see a lot of Everlast gear still in San Diego but I see more Reyes.But Cleto Reyes knows he's got something that fighters want so he has plenty of distributors on the U.S. side. It's probably cut into Deportes Viking's profits.But like that old saying goes,"All's fair in love and protective cups."

[dagosd2000]

Frank Baltazar with his wife and daughter and son Frankie at a father and son banquet in LA

[dagosd2000]

Today

Seems today everything revolves around this cold that's going around. I try to stay away from it but it's always jumping out in front of me.I don't like to watch live TV. I don't trust commercials. And I especially don't trust the news. Like I said before if the truth is supposed to set you free then what's going on today is burying me alive.But the lies have become the truth.Sports with the phony cut outs in the stands and the pumped in crowd noise that's trying to ape the real thing isn't convincing.A player tests positive and the game is cancelled. But just to go outside is putting your face in it.That"it" bring the truth. But it's the masks that are the worst. I see a person wearing a mask and it tells me something is very wrong. But I'm sure the people wearing the masks feel the same way.But now I see advertising on TV and in magazines with people wearing masks.They want to condition people that wearing a mask is apart of everyday life.Something normal. It's gotten to the point where I go to my porn site and people are exploring every body cavity on each other and they're wearing MASKS!They say the Spanish Flu killed 50 million and the world had half the population then as there is today.And the pundits say it's the worst pandemic ever-1 million dead compared to 50 million. it don't figure with me.

Some shrinks will tell you it ain't healthy to live in the past. I mean if you're still breathing you're living in the present.But I'm(like a lot of others)becoming more fatalistic with what the future looks like. Trump says he doesn't want socialism but on his watch Big Brother is out there telling you what to do and not to do more than ever before.And the Democrats?Well,at least they say they want it. I just want to be left alone.

And now to boxing,and more specifically the BoxRec forum. Oh yes.Boxing history.A place I can think back and remember, not too long ago ,when there were crowds in the stands and no masks. If an old coot like me gets tiresome with some of my yarns about what it was like when life was more simple,a life where you walked through it full measure,when there weren't all these rules and Big Brother telling you what to do.Well live with it.Besides,last March is beginning to seem like some far off Disney tale.

Let's face it.Every time you log on to your computer someone is watching,gathering information so they can figure a way to change you into what they want-a robot.Part of that element is confusion and a giant scare tactic.But i guess I have to deal with it."It" being the truth.I must remember though that the truth will set me free.So I guess I'll find my truth serum on the forum.It's a place where I can go back and tell you about how I saw Davey Moore after beating Kid Irapuato in Tijuana's bullring get pelted with beer bottles and jumped out of the ring still with his gloves on and ran out to the street and hailed a taxi to the border-and by the way he wasn't wearing a mask.

Davey Moore

[dagosd2000]

Bury My Gloves At The Coliseum

Half the teams in baseball made the playoffs. Maybe they figure that would draw a bigger interest.Here in San Diego the Padres have been a second division team like they've lived there all their lives. The franchise started in 1969.Since then they've been in two World Series and lost both never reaching a 7th game.They're the only pro team left in town. A couple of years ago the Chargers moved up to LA when the city voted down funding a new stadium for the team. There were ill feelings but in this burg with all the beaches and with the sun shining in your face practically all year the bad mood quickly evaporated. Then there were two NBA franchises that gave it a tumble and both after a cup of coffee got on the plane and left town. The San Diego Rockets went to Houston and the San Diego Clippers sailed to LA where they've been deckhands for the Lakers since their departure.

The Coliseum, that used to feature pro boxing on Tuesday nights, finally morphed into a furniture store after the doors closed in 1974 when the owner of the building ,Jerry Navarra, figured he'd make more money selling sofas and lounge chairs than counting on enough fans to watch two guys beat their brains out in the middle of a boxing ring.Like the other pro sports that went belly up in San Diego there wasn't a lot of kicking and screaming from what was left in the lungs of the fight crowd.

Your average fight nut doesn't get too amped up to watch other sports. Oh,he may take in a baseball game or watch some football. Basketball has never been a big draw in San Diego. But boxing was a big draw and then it stopped almost dead in its tracks.Jerry Navarra must have sniffed that or seen some omen so he moved out the boxing ring and replaced it with twin beds.

The Coliseum could hold around 2000 people if you made room for standing room . That's part of the reason there was never a really big fight held inside the edifice.The other reason was that the Coliseum was kind of a testing ground. If a fighter started his career fast at the Coliseum then he'd graduate up to LA.if he made good then he would more than likely never have to put on his trunks again in that smelly old locker room with the leaky showerheads.

Often, when a once good fighter began his drop into the abyss then he'd have to be careful not to slip on the floor from the water that dripped from those leaky showerheads.Denny Moyer was a good example of a good fighter that was nearing the end so he decided to end it all at the Coliseum.

I miss the place. Looking back you take a lot for granted. it's the little things that never go away. The wooden bleachers.The iron beams across the ceiling. The slamming of the doors when the fighters left the locker room and started walking down the aisle to the ring.The ring announcer ,Fred Lewis,who looked kind of effeminate but then after awhile you got used to him and didn't want anyone else to take his place. Then there was the neighborhood outside in the streets. Dark but not threatening. There was no parking lot that made the closeness closer. And then all the familiar faces.the local boxing crowd-the Millsaps,Ernie Fuentes,Burke Emery,Dick Wood,the Powell brothers,and of course Archie Moore.Once in awhile you'd see some of the LA gang at ringside-Gato Gonzalez with his manager Jackie McCoy,Hedge Lewis,Howie Steindler and one or both of the Lopez brothers. After Ken Norton left to fight in the bigger venues you see him from time to time. And if Mike Quarry was on the bill of fare, big bro Jerry would be there wolfing down a hot dog and a beer.

So that's all gone and there's not a lot around anymore that remember. At least I can still remember. So this afternoon I turned on the game between the Padres and the St. Louis Cards.It's a best out of three playoff series. The Pads lost yesterday and after two innings today they were behind 4 zip. I said the hell with it. Maybe I'll change their luck if I watch something else. I switched the channel to Turner Classic Movies.I'm watching Fellini's "La Strada"for the millionth time. I know the line so well I could be in the movie and I don't even speak Italian.


But movies are only movies and not the real thing. Like they say "it's only a movie." But with sports people root for this team or that team.For this fighter or the guy he's fighting.But sports is just a game. There's a winner and a loser.In a movie it either has a happy ending or a sad one. I know how "La Strada" is going to end.I think I'll switch back to the game and see if the Padres can start a rally.


Federico Fellini

[dagosd2000]

Padres rallied. Final score:Padres 11 Cards 9

[dagosd2000]

`Tongue In Cheek

When all those prominent black athletes assembled in Cleveland in 1967 to have a sit down with the then exiled heavyweight champ.Muhammad Ali,I felt that there was more to it than those guys wanting to drill him on why he wouldn't go into the Army.There were around a dozen or so black athletes.Some like Curtis McClinton,running back for the Kansas City Chiefs, who were in the Army reserves and tried to persuade Ali that he'd have it like Joe Louis did in World War II-box exhibitions in the States and never have to dig a foxhole or clean a latrine on the front lines.The principle players at that sit down were Jim Brown ,who had recently retired from the NFL because football was conflicting with him being a movie actor;and the father and son team of Elijah and Herbert Muhammad,leaders of the Nation Of Islam.In addition there were some other high profile names.Lew Alcindor who later joined the NOI and changed his name to Kareem Abdul- Jabbar,and Bill Russell,the center on the what seemed like the perpetual champions of the NBA- the Boston Celtics.Brown and Russell did most of the grilling.But what threw me was with the exception of two or three of the lesser names, none of those other guys were in the military or were thinking of giving up their careers to go to Nam and shoot Viet Cong.Then later another name surfaced who ,for me, made all this come together. The name was Bob Arum.Yeah.The same good 'ol Bob that's in his 90's and still putting pugs together to make himself a multi millionaire.

Bob was in a panic when Ali lost his license to fight. He saw his cash cow drying up and needed to get him back to fighting so he could break out his deposit slips again. But he needed some help.Bob,being no dummy,approached Ali's mentors-the Nation Of Islam. They like Bob were now faced with the predicament of losing Ali to Leavenworth when they wanted to see him back at Madison Square Garden.The trio of Elijah,Herbert,and Bob wanted to at least get Ali to fight exhibitions so they could reap the closed circuit revenues. But Uncle Sam had to give the OK before there could be a deal.The trio convinced the government that if they could get Ali back to putting on glorified sparring sessions that Uncle Sam would drop the draft dodging charges.Bob even promised those black athletes at the sit down that if they could convince Ali to go ahead and fight exhibitions that Arum would give them franchises at the theaters and a cut of revenues. But Ali wouldn't go for it. He was adamant. No Viet Cong had ever called him a n---er so he wasn't going to shoot any of them.That's what came to light but I still wasn't satisfied with that conclusion.

I never trusted Jim Brown nor Bill Russell as far as I could kick a football or make a jump shot. First let me start with Brown. Oh yeah,he was the greatest running back ever.In 9 seasons he led the NFL in rushing 8 times and broke the single season record for yards gained.and when he finished he had the most yards amassed in a career.But he was an arrogant prick. Football's version of a surly Sonny Liston or a young George Foreman. But to add to that threatening posture he thought he was irresistible with women.So did Ali,but Muhammad was not as mean spirited. Ali wasn't the type who would kick your ass and then take your woman. And Ali never threw women off of balconies either. If Jim Brown had an amiable side he kept it to himself. And Brown liked to show the white guys that they couldn't match him with sex appeal nor muscle when it came to conquering the pale faced fairer sex. Jim Brown practically lived at Hugh Heffner's Playboy Mansion. I remember Raquel Welch commenting on Brown when they made that flick "100 Rifles."Boy did that make white guys take a pensive look at their women. She said during that scene when Brown bent her over and swapped spit that that was what he actually did to her chagrin
"I couldn't believe what he did. He forced his tongue down my throat."
But here was her most revealing insight.
"Jim Brown thought he was THEE man,but he was too much trying to show it with a sense of brutality. He didn't have a soft or sensitive side that women want to see in a complete man.He was overcompensating for some insecurity."
GO Raquel!

One last thing on Jim Brown. When the judge finally got tired of giving him a suspended sentence for abusing women he "sentenced" him to pick up trash on the side of the freeway.
"I don't pick up trash for nobody!"he scowled."I'm a proud man.I have my dignity.I'd rather go to jail.
And that's where the judge put him.Ever been to jail?It's the most demeaning sub human place on earth. And scary as hell. So what happened when Mr. Touchdown went to the slammer? He had to sell himself to the gang members for protection. They had him where they wanted and it wasn't to get his autograph.He didn't want to get shanked or have to drop the soap so he went along with the hardcore lifers.

Now there's Bill Russell. I never saw an athlete more self absorbed. He wouldn't sign an autograph even for a teammate's kid because he thought that signing his name was exploiting and beneath him. And here's another guy when you asked him the time he'd diagram a blueprint of Big Ben. Shut up Bill.He should have lived in the times of the Greeks and been one of those philosophers. Every time he'd make of his erudite quips he'd validate it with with a smirk.YAWN.

So we have two big stars-Jim Brown and Bill Russell who have now been eclipsed by a kid from Louisville,Kentucky who on top of it is the king of the baddest ass sport. He's the heavyweight champion of the world instead of one guy on a team.And here's the kicker,especially when it concerned Jim Brown.The ladies,and I mean the black ones,had shifted their focus from Mr. Tongue In The Mouth or I'll Toss You Off The 6th Floor Balcony to this innocent shy rambunctious kid that they all wanted to gobble up and put their tongues in HIS mouth. Muhammad could do that without even trying to be someone that he wasn't.


This kind of stuff came naturally to Ali. Raquel was right.


Russell and Brown trying to put Ali into a corner but he just floated away

[goose 5]

Roger : Did Superstar Billy Graham ever wrestle at the San Diego Coliseum ? Are you familiar with his claim of having benched 605 lbs. raw ?

[dagosd2000]

Roger : Did Superstar Billy Graham ever wrestle at the San Diego Coliseum ? Are you familiar with his claim of having benched 605 lbs. raw ?

Goose
I don't remember Graham ever wrestling at the Coliseum.As far as him benching 605 that's quite a feat

[dagosd2000]

Highway Patrol

I saw the fight when Kid Irapuato lost to Davey Moore in Tijuana's bullring.I was with my father. Kid Irapuato was a fixture in TJ.,a very popular fighter. But his career was up and down and at the end he couldn't win anymore if his life depended on it.He certainly had his opportunities. None of the big names in the division ducked him. I think it was because they knew The Kid wasn't always in top shape.I met him years later after his first fight with Davey Moore at the Jai Alai Palace in Tijuana. I was with my father again and they knew each other.Irapuato was at the bar where he was no stranger. My father was at the most just a social drinker so I don't think he did much fraternizing with The Kid aside of talking fighting. Drinking was one of Irapuato's hobbies(and the ladies) and that's what kept him from ever wearing a championship belt.

He fought primarily in his own back yard in Baja California so he had the aficianados watching his back, but he could never win the big ones. He lost to Joe Becerra,"Raton"Macias,"Gato" Gonzalez,and Moore twice. He did get by "Pajarito" Moreno,but then he fought Moore again and failed to go the distance. Moore almost didn't get to fight him again, or ever fight again.After Moore ran away with the decision in TJ the aficianados decided to use Davey Moore as target practice hurling everything they could get their hands on at him. Moore somehow dodged (or the aficiandos' aim was bad) and the last we saw of him he had exited the building to the street and found a sympathetic cab driver to rush him to the border. The Kid liked the fast life more than taking a pause to train. if you wanted to locate him during the day you'd have a better chance finding him belly upped to the bar in the Coahuila than at the CREA skipping rope. So when he finally hung up his gloves he needed to start a second career if he wanted to continue living "The Vida Loca."

It wasn't until many years later when I was coaching football(the American variety)at that private school CETYs in Tijuana that I discovered where Irapuato had landed. I was in a car with one of the players on the team and his father was driving.We were on Diaz Ordaz Boulevard that the locals referred to as "The Boulevard."it's a street with a lot of traffic in a part of town that his industrialized and is bordered by colonias on each side. i don't know what spurred me to ask the question about whatever happened to Kid Irapuato but I soon would come to a revelation.The player's old man filled me in.
"Kid irapuato?"grumbled the kid's father looking over his shoulder."That son of a bitch."
The old guy was a short but feisty dude.He was wearing a brown jacket and a big fedora. He needed a shave and you could see the hairs protruding out of his beak of a nose and his floppy ears.Hunched over the steering wheel barely able to see he was swerving through traffic like an Indy Car driver headed for the finish line.
"I'll tell you about Irapuato,"snarled the old man."He's a motorcycle cop here on The Boulevard.He pulls people over and puts the bite on them and then when he gets off he spends all his money in the cantinas and the next day he starts all over again."
The old man had barely finished his description when I heard a siren.I looked out the back widow and saw this motorcycle cop on our tail, lights flashing and siren blaring. He pulled his machine against the driver's side when the old man pushed open the door knocking the cop and the motorcycle to the street. Without hesitating the old man pounced on the cop like a tomcat on all fours. They started tumbling and grappling, punching and kicking,and cussing each other out.The dust was swirling around all this ado and it reminded me of the Katzenjammer Kids having their daily ruckus.Finally.after the dust settled the cop staggered up to his feet,got back on his motorcycle,started the motor,and slowly puttered off. I saw his battered face and torn uniform as he drove away. He looked terrible. Yep.that melee validated what the old man had said about Kid Irapuato.

"That son of a bitch isn't going to shake me down,"said the old man as he checked his side mirror.As we drove down The Boulevard no one said a word. All I could think about is only something like that could happen in Tijuana.


Boulevard Diaz Ordaz in Tijuana

[dagosd2000]

Falling On Deaf Ears

Of all the comments I've heard from former fighters that were a presence in the Los Angeles area, the fighter they said that impressed them the most was Mando Ramos.Sitting down with the WBC lightweight champ,Rodolfo Gonzalez he will always talk about how much he learned from sparring with Ramos and watching is fights.Considering that "El Gato" is several years older and started his career six years earlier than Mando is something to think about.Also ,"Gato's" pedigree comprised two of the smoothest fighters around-his uncle Joe Becerra and his cousin "Alacron "Torres. I'm not saying that the former bantamweight and flyweight kings didn't show their close kin a few things inside the ring,but when "Gato" speaks of Mando there's a glint in his eye. Mando had in his pocket all the tricks of the trade.

I was at Mando's memorial service in Wilmington that abutted his his hometown Long Beach. The event was held inside the Longshoreman's Hall.I was sitting with Ed Hernandez,Randy De La O, and Frank Baltazar and his son Frankie. Frankie left his mark as a pretty good lightweight at the LA venues during the 70's.They showed some highlights of Mando in action on the big screen,.I forget who Mando was battling with but there was a clinch and both fighters separated on their own.As Mando stepped back a half step he shot two quick right hooks into his opponents rib cage.Frankie who was astute to that kind of thing almost jumped out of his chair.
"Did you see what he did?"remarked Frankie who could show his ring skills with the best of them."I would have never thought of that and even if I had I don't think I could have pulled it off."

Jackie McCoy who trained such name fighters as Don Jordan,Carlos Palomino,Raul Rojas,Rodolfo Gonzalez,and Frankie Crawford always said the Mando was the most talented fighter he ever worked with. The problem was getting Mando into the gym on a regular basis.

I used to work under a Chicana principal at one of the high schools down by the border. Her name is Christine Aranda. Her father owned a bar in Boyle Heights,a landmark Mexican neighborhood in East LA.She would ell me stories about Mando Ramos and his drinking buddy Bobby Chacon getting sloshed in her dad's bar and then after closing the place Mando,Bobby,and her dad would have a blond at their elbows and then take off in Mando's convertible to raise a little more hell before the sun rose.

I followed Mando's career just like everybody did in the Southland. He had it all skill wise but just when you think he'd get a title shot he'd self destruct.He was undefeated when he climbed into the ring to fight a Korean named Kang Il Suh who brought with him a tepid record of 34 and 9.Mando was more stale then poorhouse cake and lost the decision.A little later he lost a majority decision to another self destructive scrapper,crosstown rival Frankie Crawford. The fight was all action and the rematch was a no brainer. This time Mando woke up and smelled the coffee and won in ten going away.

That win set Mando up to get his crack at WBC lightweight champ Carlos Teo Cruz. They booked the fight in the Memorial Coliseum ,the biggest venue in America. Half of LA must have been there to see Mando show his stuff. But Cruz wasn't having any of it,but it was all mute because Mando had let his best stuff in the locker room.. Cruz was good but nothing to write home about. Mando seemed like he couldn't pull the trigger and the fans at the Memorial Coliseum went home disappinted.I wonder what Mando was thinking.Mando got serious again and reeled off six straight wins that him back into a title fight with Ismael Laguna who was a lot better fighter than Cruz.The fight was at the LA Sports Arena. Mando had the curse. Laguna opened cuts over both of Mando's eyes.Mando fought like a tiger but Jackie McCoy to his credit didn't want to be responsible for having a blind fighter on his hands .He told the ref,Lee Grossman, to stop it.

I saw Mando fight "Sugar" Ramos at the Olympic Auditoeium.It was right after the Laguna fight. To this day I never saw in person a more polished display of non stop beautiful boxing. Mando was the winner and I think looking back it was his peak performance.Wins over Raul Rojas and Ruben Navarro were next and now it was another opportunity to fight for the championship,. But before I get to that, when Mando was to fight Rojas in an important match for both,Mando sent scouts out to Rojas' camp that Mando was getting drunk every night and wasn't going to the gym like a good fight should. Rojas,who also had a penchant for the fast life, fell for the ruse. He backed off on his training only to find out in the ring that Mando was sharp as a tack. Raul lost big and now it was time to sail to Spain and fight Pedro Carrasco for the vacant WBC crown.

Carrasco may have had that 102 and 1 record but it was inflated.There wasn't any of his victims that would have survived the competition in LA when Mando was mixing it up with the best of them.. Maybe Mando wasn't at his best in Madrid when he fought Carrasco. Mando and his dad who he brought along for compnionship were frequenting every bodega in town, but Mando showed that even though not in top form he was too much for Spain's new hero. But remember that fight was in Spain and there was no way a Mexican would catch a break in the motherland. Carrasco looked like a rookie. He was on his back four times and when it looked like he wouldn't get up again the referee awarded the Spaniard the fight on a foul.The fans went crazy.they had a champion but in reality they couldn't let it go at that. There was rematch in LA with Mando looking like he wasn't interested but he got the nod anyway.The rubber match resembled the second fight and Mando still had the crown on his head barely.But the handwriting was on the wall.

The night before Mando's defense against Chango Carmona he was sleeping one off in LA County Jail. Booze ,drugs,you name it Mando Ramos was beat before he could climb into the ring. Carmona can count his lucky stars because any lightweight in the world could have beaten Mando Ramos that night. But Ramos had really beaten himself,.He was getting used to it.No need to continue with what ensued. At 25 years o age Mando Ramos was out of boxing.

The empress Aileen Eaton was enamored with Mando Ramos.She used to refer to Mando as "my baby."I think as time passes the fans that remember him wish they had him back. They would take him aside. Have his back.Make sure he went to the gym everyday.But who am I kidding?There were enough people back then who tried to do all that was best for Mando.He just wouldn't listen.


Mando after fighting Sugar Ramos

[dagosd2000]

The Babysitter

Last week the lady that lived below us in our condominium complex died.She was a German lady born in Keil..Her name was Margrit.She was 85 years old. She was kind of grouchy and for many years we didn't like each other.She was always calling the property manager about how we made too much noise and could hear us walking around upstairs or we would start the washing machine and kept it running late at night or we would flush the toilet late at night and wake her up.But when she complained that we had two dogs instead of only having one dog that got me riled.

She still had a thick accent and would talk about her four suicide attempts and how her brother committed suicide and how her father sexually abused her.But she not only found fault with me and my family but everyone in the building. She thought people were putting their trash in her trash can,She couldn't stand the guy who lived next door to her because his car had a big dent in the side and she didn't like looking at it.

Margrit married some guy who was a Canadian and they migrated to the United States and they had two kids-a son and a daughter. Margrit told me that one day her husband said he was going out to mail a letter and never came back. She found a letter he left on the dresser explaining that he was in love with another woman and was sorry things turned out like they did.Later,the ex husband got cancer and was very sick and said his wife had left him so he asked Margrit to take him to the hospital but Margrit was too afraid to learn how to drive and didn't have a car.

Margrit's daughter lived in Colorado and I rarely saw her. The son was married and had a boy and for a few years he would drop the kid off with his mother so she could babysit him.But he stopped doing that because Margrit would always talk to the kid about her suicide attempts. So Margrit lived alone,but occasionally her son would come by to visit but he never stayed long.

Margrit was always going to the doctor. She complained of terrible headaches.The doctor said she had blood on her brain.One day she told me that she was just a little girl when World War 2 broke out.Germans don't usually talk about World War 2.It's an uncomfortable subject. Often people will ask them about Hitler and one of the common responses is something like the generals should have killed him.

I was reading a history book about the allied bombing of Germany during the war and asked if she wanted to read it. She said yes and a week later she returned the book.
"Those fat generals smoking their fat cigars and thinking nothing of killing everyone.They disgust me."
I didn't want to counter with anything.However,her criticism surprised me a little.

Margrit also told me that after the war Max Schmeling's wife babysat her when she was little. She didn't know too much about him and didn't seem interested to know more.She knew he was a fighter and that he fought Joe louis and lost. It didn't matter to her so I didn't press the issue of wanting to elaborate on his life.But I did ask her about how she felt when her hometown of Kiel was being bombed-the Brits by night,the Yanks by day.
"All I cared about is that the bombs didn't fall on our house but on everyone elses."

When Margrit suddenly died of a stroke her son and daughter arrived to straighten out matters.I took a long look at her daughter. She looked just like Margrit.I told her that I felt bad about her mother's passing.
"My mother said that you were her best friend.I want to thank you for being so nice to her."


Max Schmeling

[dagosd2000]

Maybe No Fans Is Not A Bad Idea

I just responded to the query "Your Lowest Moment As A Boxing Fan?"I work off inspiration running the gamut of all the highs and lows.Thinking back on the that championship fight between Lupe Pintor and Johnny Owen put me in my manic. Boxing ain't like these other sports where for example you swat a baseball over the fence and you're a big man. Fighters ,regardless of their rank,always think that maybe something bad is going to happen tonight. There are morons that don the gloves that say they want to "kill"" the other guy,but that's all wind and smoke.Unavoidably, at times a fighter will get caught up with his savage instincts when sensing he has his opponent on the ropes,will unleash every ounce of predatory effort to cause the most damage. Lupe Pintor wasn't like that. the blow

The blow that spelled the demise to Johnny Owen was that "perfect" shot,kind of the same ilk that killed Jimmy Doyle by Ray Robinson.The force of the blow had everything Pintor could muster and Johnny was in the position to receive its full force. Sure,Owen was fading and hurt,but he was game and his heart got in the way of his head and blurred the vision of his corner ,but we can't blame anyone of negligence.If Johnny could have only caught the ball from going over the fence.

The crowd at the Olympic Auditorium that night thirsted for blood. The skinny pasty skinned Brit was meat for most of those animals. Owen was stronger than he looked. He had guts,but the stars and Lupe Pintor weren't in Johnny's alignment. As Johnny was beginning to crack you could feel the hot blood of those undomesticated fools in the arena start to percolate.

It was moving to see that Pintor visited the Owen family a few years ago. Lupe wasn't a beast.The family understood.They saw a man like their son. Like they say "You never know what's next". A fighter gets into that ring and anything can happen. It could have happened to Pintor.

With this virus there are no more crowds ,or a scant few,that are allowed in the stands. At first I couldn't get used to it. But what do they contribute anyway? They aren't in in the ring trading punches or have the opportunity to dip into a fellas' pocket.

Johnny Owen

I need to settle down.Thanks Nancy

[dagosd2000]

The Fight Of The Century

With the anxious anticipation of the upcoming fight between Vasyl Lomachenko and Teofimo Lopez they've been showing a lot of past fights on ESPN. Gets the blood boiling,at least piques the interest.Last night they replayed "The Fight OF The Century", as it was billed and deservedly so.But after it was all over it was like ordering your soup piping hot and the waiter bringing it over lukewarm. With the soup you could send back to the kitchen. "The Fight Of The Century" you couldn't rename it "The Best Fight Going On On March 8th,1971" or something similar.

I remember watching the fight at the San Diego Sports Arena. I've also seen it on ESPN Sports Classics and on YouTube.I usually stick around till the end.After Johnny Addie announces the decision then I'll go to the fridge and make a sandwich that Dagwood Bumstead would envy.But last night I stuck around for the post fight commentary.

Watching the fight at the Sports Arena I couldn't hear the sound clearly. I don't know if it was the acoustics or the transmission was faulty.The trio of commentators was comprised of the venerable ring announcer Don Dunphy,Academy Award actor Burt Lancaster ,and the light heavyweight champ Archie Moore.With the exception of Dunphy I couldn't remember who else was adding their expertise to "The Fight Of The Century."Forgetting Burt Lancaster an Archie Moore?Wow.

But because I couldn't help just recalling Dunphy doesn't mean that his recollection was warranted on anything special. There couldn't have been more of a dramatic buildup for a fight.It was the perfect storm:both men with unblemished records,both regarded in opposing circles as being the champ,the venue the hollowed Madison Square Garden,and the whole world watching it.The hype was just fluff but there was enough of it to fill the Grand Canyon. The fight promoted itself. Ali was in top form predicting that he'd win in a breeze. Frazier was anxious to show everyone that the mythical Ali was going to get his long coming comeuppance.The celebrities ,dressed to the nines, wouldn't have missed it for the world. 'Ol Blue Eyes Sinatra was allowed to sit ringside with his camera.On the Dopplar Radar it showed a perfect storm was on the way.When the clouds cleared we realized that we didn't have to bring our raincoats.



This would have been the proper contest for what's going on today-no fans allowed.Everyone was expecting so much and got so little,at least from Ali's performance.His two tune ups with Jerry Quarry and then Ringo Bonavena made us scratch our heads,especially what went on with Bonavena. Here was a big lug that was tagging Ali instead of Ali floating away and making him arm weary from swinging at air.Some people thought he was just stale,cosell thought he was sick. Bu that puzzlement would go away when ali got in the ring with Smokin' Joe. Muhammad would put joe in his pipe and light him up.

But as the fight got into the middle rounds there was something wrong.The concern was about Ali. With his red trunks and tassels on his shoes,Ali looked puffy and tired. Instead of Fred Astaire feet he widened his stance and waited for Joe to come at him.And did Joe come in. Oh,Joe wasn't hard to hit.At first Muhammad's jab was sharp,but no jab was going to puncture Frazier. Joe would bob an weave through it,take it,and then leap in with the big left hook followed with right and left body shots.You could hear the punches land all the way across to Hoboken.In the meantime Dunphy and Lancaster were seeing a fight that was close : Ali boxing brilliantly and Frazier ,though swinging wildly,was landing the harder punches.Archie wasn 't saying much,but every time Lancaster would go into an Elmer Gantry fire and brimstone description,Arch would say"I agree." Other than that Moore was in the backround.He seemed like the third guy that made it a crowd.But the other two weren't much better. They talked a lot more but that just detracted from the validity of their comments. Both of them,Dunphy and Lancaster,would say something like"Ali has hurt Joe"when in fact it was Frazier who was makin Ali wince and hold.And did he hold. Ali's best defense was to hold Joe behind the head.a foreboding we'd see from him from that time on.

When Ali's jab waned to a flicker I felt he wouldn't last.In the 11th round he almost folded.It was shocking. Sure,Henry Cooper had decked him,but it was nothing like the trouble Ali was in in round 11.Dunphy kept seeing things like he needed glasses.Burt kept climbing to the mountain top reaching for the words that didn't apply. Archie mumbled from time to time.When it was over they all thought it could go either way. The crowd was flat like warm ginger ale.

When Johnny Addie read the score cards there was no riot.Judge Bill Recht had it 11 to 4 Joe. Don and Burt couldn't believe it,but who could believe them?They were both talking like Tom Sayer telling his pals that whitewashing the fence was the best thing since sliced bread. And Archie? He didn't say anything.People were looking to put on their coats and find the exits. Don,Burt,and Archie climbed up into the ring that resembled a just opened can of sardines. Finally,a mike was put in front of Ali.He had his head down.
"I thought I won,"he said without conviction.
Joe didn't want to talk to anyone though did go over to say somethin to Ali. The replay showed the knockdown maybe a hundred times as Burt equated the force of Frazier's blow with the bomb dropped on Nagasaki. ,Dunphy thought that Ali lost because he held too much(he finally found his glasses).And Archie just said"I agee."

But the only ones in the arena that weren't trying to win an Academy Award, looking for their glasses,or trying to say a complete sentence were the two fighters. Ali knew that if he wanted to continue fighting he would have take a terrible amount of punishment. Joe was more spent than Muhammad.He went to recover in the hospital.His adrenal glands were drier than the Mohave Desert and his blood pressure could have registered on the Richter Scale.

They called it "The Fight OF The Century"but when it was over they got out their erasers and x'd out "Century".But I'm sure it was the best fight on March 8th,1971.But I'll have to double check that.


Joe Frazier

[dagosd2000]

An Old Guys Boys Club

When it's all said and done.When everything comes out in the wash.Well,it's good to see these former fighters get together. Most of the time they run into each other at these boxing events.LA has a good share of them and there a lot of ex pugs that live in the Southland.Right now I want to stick mainly with the LA locals and leave the Mexican nationals out. But before I go on there are quite a few of the old timers that live across the border in Tijuana:Julio Cesar Chavez,Erik Morales,Jibaro Perez,Marcos Geraldo,Antonio Margarito.Some of these guys also have houses across the border in San Diego,mainly in the region referred to as the South Bay.it's almost like living in Tijuana. When a teacher friend of mine told me more than 10 years ago about BoxRec and that it might be something that would piqued my interest I decided log on.

Well, it was like going back in a H.G. Wells time machine. I'd forgotten about these guys. I mean I didn't read about them.I didn't see them being interviewed on the tube. That stuff was the the pigskinners, horsehiders,and roundballersThe fighters hadn't been in the ring for decades. But when fellas' like Rick Farris and Frank Baltazar began to correspond with me on the forum it was a minor revelation.I started going to the annual functions mainly organized by Don Fraser who was assisted with ample aid from fellas' like Rick and Frank. I was amazed about how many fighters still were still on the set.

But since I was never a fighter I didn't want to horn in when these ex pugs circled the wagons. They have a special camaraderie,a brotherhood.And my "bloodline" is not connected with theirs. But that's OK because then I step back and watch them remix again and talk shop so to speak. I must admit I try to eavesdrop but I don't want to meddle.

However,fighters aren't a presumptuous lot. They're pretty much down to earth and if they sense you don't have any ulterior motives you can sit down and join the fun , or at least be a fly on the wall and not be swatted away. My wife Maria has been an unintentional go between. Many of the fighters are Mexican either born in the USA or in Meheeco.In my case(and my wife's) the hair splitting is a moot point.

Some of these guys are struggling right now. Each year I see the decline more pronounced than before.But then there are the ones that remind me of the friendly neighbor next door. A casual conversation is a blessing even in these stressful times. They seem to take life one step at a time and know what they can handle and what is out of their reach.They don't wear their championship belts around their waists. They don't revel in the past.They can sit and listen to what you have to say,and whether they might disagree,an argument isn't worth the bother.

The scribes,the pundits usually do most of the talking and get in the last word.They make the long boring speeches when they get a plaque along with the guys they write about-the fighters.But no one listens to these self absorbed go on for very long.They think the crowd is hanging on every word but the reality is that everyone digesting the chicken dinner wants someone to pull the hook on these blowhards.

With this virus going around I don't know when the next bash is going to take place.In the meantime I'll try to stay afloat by blowing hot air on the forum.


Worth repeating.Mando Ramos,Ray Mancini,Danny Lopez,Bobby Chacon at father/son banquet in LA


My wife Maria with her Tijuanero ,Gaspar Ortega

[dagosd2000]

The Set Up

When Ed "Too Tall" Jones decided to turn in his shoulder pads in for a pair of boxing gloves in 1979 there were a lot of pundits that believed that Jones would carry the torch instead of Wilt The Stilt who shied away from turning fighter.Jones told everyone that he always wanted to see how he could handle himself in the ring despite his mother not backing him in his corner for this one. I remember watching his pro debut on TV along with a million other eager curiosity seekers. it was kind of a rag tag circus show. The fight was in the some arena in the middle of the Mohave Desert.Would Jones go on to greatness or would he be like others who were good in their respective sports endeavors only to find they got in over their heads with the Sweet Science.

Jones may have possessed an impressive physique.He was almost 7 feet tall ,weighed close to 260 pounds, and wasn't a tub of lard. Too Tall wasn't too tall for football,but would his height be a detriment for going into the boxing ring? Dave Wolf was in charge of Jones's career and how he trained.Dave was hoping that something big was going to fall into his lap. And he didn't want it to be an unconscious Too Tall. Jones didn't learn how to play football during a summer vacation.Only the self deceivers thought he could be a fighter in that same time span.

They threw Jones in there with a set up guy.That was only logical. Before I started typing away with this I couldn't tell you his opponent's name if they shot me up with truth serum. So I went to the BoxRec archives and there he was. The "set up" had a name-Abraham Meneses. Sure!Abraham Meneses.I'd seen him fight in Tijuana. I saw him fight Marcos Geraldo at the Jai Alai Palace. Sure .Abraham Meneses.

Well Abe if you you're reading this I was pulling for you all the way.And I think a lot of others wanted to see Abraham win too even though he was certainly no familiar face unless you went to the fights in TJ.The fight was a joke. Reality can quickly throw a blanket over fantasy. Meneses was like the typical Mexican heavyweight.He had that Indian body:soft skinned,kind of puffy making him seem overweight when he wasn't.Abraham had Jones on the canvas and it looked like the charade was over.But Jones stuck his long arm out enough times,threw some awkward shots with the other while Meneses kept coming in.But 'Ol Abe wasn't the most talented fighter around and he was struggling along with Jones to finish in one piece.

When the final bell sounded it was close but you didn't have to be a rocket scientist to know that Too Tall would have his too tall hand raised.The crowd didn't like it. The people watching the TV were thinking it was a good idea that Wilt The Stilt backed down from fighting the greatest heavyweight of all time.

Like I said,I saw Meneses fight before.But I was unaware that he was the "set up" for Ed Jones. In 1983 Marcos Geraldo dropped him before the the bugs could settle in their seats-me included.You could have held your breath and still had enough air in your lungs to yell,"I want my money back!"


The Jai Alai Palace in Tijuana

[dagosd2000]

What Price The Championship

I forget what fighter said it.If a guy is going to get into fighting then his goal should be to win the championship.Well,maybe so. Maybe in the beginning.Most fighters ,after getting their taste of it, don't figure that way. They realize though that they can make a living fighting. Some are just able to keep their heads above water.Some want to stay in the fast lane.Others want to make enough money in order to spend even more than they have.But to walk into the gym everyday and make themselves and everyone else believe that one day a championship belt will be fitted around their waists...well,they would just rather keep that dream swirling around inside their heads.

Awhile back I was talking about Joey Mazim.His aim was to keep fighting as long as he could, cramming in bout after bout so he could pay the bills.A championship?Well,if that brought in more dough,fine. If he could make the same or more without a crown on his head,that was fine too.

Yestertday I was yakking about Ed"Too Tall" Jones and his aspirations to test the boxing waters.He was an ALL Pro defensive end on a Super bowl winning team,The Dallas Cowboys.He was respected and feared-characteristics that usually don't meld together.He first climbed into the ring in November of 1979 feeling like he was a lead pipe cinch to conquer every pug they put in front of him,and left in January of 1980 shaking his head in disgust. He didn't have a blemish on his record but realized it would be a tough uphill climb if he was ever to gain ,at the least,repectabilty. Afterwards, looking back on the experience Jones told a reporter "I've never been around so many crummy people in all my life.However the experience was the best thing that ever happened to me." Murphy Griffith,who trained Jones,said "Everyone thought Jones was too good a football player to look like a novice in a foreign sport-and he did.

Somehow it all made sense.

[dagosd2000]

The Big Flag

"Gaspar,when was the last time you were in Tijuana?"I asked the former welterweight contander.
"Oh,more than ten years ago,"
I was at the Marriott Hotel with my wife attending the World Boxing Hall Of Fame banquet. I was sitting in the lobby
with Gaspar Ortega ,the fighter they called "Indio" .His mother was a Zapotec Indian so that's how he got the name.I was sitting in an easy chair across from him.He was at the end of a sofa shifting positions.We had met before at the last banquet.He was one of the first inductees. I think he came out to California every year to see the other fighters and get a change of scenery.
"I was in Tijuana last week and I went to see if the gym they named after you was still there,"I said.
Gaspar was sitting alone.His wife had an appointment to have a dialysis treatment.He seemed anxious.
"She took the bus,"he said."I told her that I'd wait for her here."
Gaspar was frail looking and his voice unsure. He fought as a welterweight for most of his career. I don't think he could tipped the scales more than the lightweight limit,the weight he started out fighting as a young teenager in Baja California.
"The gym is closed.All the windows are broken.The Benito Juarez Park is a mess.Broken bottles,trash all over the place.I didn't see anyone in the park,"I continued.
"That was the last time I was in Tijuana.They opened the gym and wanted me to be there so I went.I don't have any desire to go back.That was ten years ago,"he said looking down at the floor.
"So how are you feeling?"
"The doctors put a tube in my carotid artery,"he said feeling the side of his neck."Put your hand here and you can feel it."
Gaspar took hold of my hand and put my hand on the side of his neck.
"Can you feel it?"
"Yes."I said puling my hand away from his.
"The doctors said I could have had a stroke."
Gaspar sat back in the sofa and then shifted his weight again.
"I saw you when I was kid in the park in Colonia Morelos,I said wanting to change subjects." I was with my father at the barber shop.You were buying everyone ice cream."
Gaspar smiled.His eyes looked big magnified by his thick glasses. He seemed to ease up when I brought up that I had seen him in the park.
"That was right after I lost to Emile Griffith in Los Angeles for the title. I was still living in Tijuana .I had bought my mother a house with the money."
"I saw you in a shiny convertible with some blond."
Gaspar laughed shaking his head a little.

Gaspar was at the banquet with his wife and Carlos Ortiz and his wife. Ortiz and his wife were in the dining room.
"Aren't you hungry?"I asked him.
"Yes,a little."
"Why don't go with me and my wife down the street in Carl's Jr. My wife is from Canon Jhonson in Tijuana. You're neighbors.You'll have a lot to talk about."
Gaspar widened his smile and now seemed relaxed.
"That sounds good.Thank you very much,"he said.
"She's in the rest room.She'll be here soon."
"Tell me.Do they still have that cuartel next to the park with that big Mexican flag?"
"Yes they do."
"I wouldn't mind seeing that again,"he said in a calm voice."I live in Connecticut now.It sure is different."
"Well ,I can tell you not much has changed in Colonia Morelos."
Gaspar put his hand to his glasses to straighten them on his nose.
"You can see that flag all the way from the United States,"I said.
Gaspar seemed to be looking over my head across the lobby.
"That's one of the problems,"Gaspar said slowly."Mexico never changes."


The big flag in Colonia Morelos


Gaspar and my wife,Maria,at the Carls Jr.