I became friends with the great ARCHIE MOORE back in 1983 through the mail and what resulted was him sending me many, many handwritten and typed letters over the next decade. I copied two of them for you here AND I believe you will find the words of the great man very interesting:
June 30, 1984
Hi, John. The days have a way of vanishing before our very eyes. Perhaps this is why one ages very quickly or at least notices the days scurrying by. The lyricists of my era on many occasions complimented father time in song. The people in love, even nowadays, succumb to these time lasting lyrics, such as...
Blue Skies.
"Blue skies smiling at me nothing but blue skies do I see. Blue birds some of them gone, nothing but blue skies all the day long. I never saw the sun shining so bright, never saw things going so right. Noticing the days scurrying by, but when your in love, my, how the time flies."
Your wings
John, you are an eaglet which I describe you at this time of your career. You are in love with the same lady I loved and many others before me and those who will come after your gone. You will grow into the eagle, with eyes so sharp as to spot an opponents opening as quickly as the eagle can spot a field mouse from nearly a mile high to the field where he scurries to find shelter from his enemies. These are components as natural as eating, but can be highly developed as part of an armentarium that all champions need to become outstanding in a chosen endeavor.
Your armentarium
From afar I notice you like dancing and much movement. well, that is OK. You must also develop your jab so stiff that anytime you make contact, therein shall ensue tiny fractures and after a small continuation certain tell tale signs of a broken proboscis, necessitating the referee to halt your exhibit of fisticuffs. This should become an east coast trademark, as your acknowledge plaudits from boxing clientele. Hard left hooking should bring about unexpected break dancing from any of the opponents your hard whistling hooks land within regions on their nerve centers.
Your attitude
A perceptive attitude is needed to be enabled to comprehend the knowledge that you poses to readily acknowledge from whence it came and by whom. Be grateful, graceful and courteous at all times. You will avoid many unpleasant moments being a straight forward man, unafraid to face the known enemy. Treat your body as a great athlete should because you will have this one until death calls you home
Please convey wishes to Mr. Barile, your Mom and your dad, hoping to hear from you soon
Instructor Moore
Letter # 2 ...
March 24, 1985
Dear Student John: The chasers in the punch bowl. Be sure your mind is made up to go all the way. Get the great teachers, use only the advice that fits into your system. Give your undivided attention to your instructor. Taste, but don't get drunk (from temporary success). Don't take success for granted. Be a good sportsman at all times, play the game fair and square at all times. Be a good sportsman at all times. Study your craft as you would a dictionary, know full meaning and implications. Condition mind and body for as long as you live, it will function above average.
Dear friend and ABC student, though we have not yet met face to face, I actually saw you before your in your photo with Tiger Ted Lowry, to whom I send warm regards today. I vividly recall boxing Ted in Baltimore at the Coliseum 1945. Being older and vastly experienced and closing in on the champion who was Gus Lesnevich, I gave Ted a long hour of scientific scenery.
The 28 and 0 madness.
The opponents to consider really experienced are the ones who somewhere along the way know what defeat is and that winning isn't everything. These so called champions with the 28 and 0 records are soon due to face an angry youngster that couldn't care less what his record is or his. He's come to fight.
The skilled analyst
If you were studying medicine as effective as you try boxing there would be no doubt in my mind that you would eventually emerge a splendid physician. Now, since you have chosen boxing it is time to analyze your system thoroughly. At this point in time my specialty as a boxing analyst serves me very well. There are times that I visit a gym and in a few seconds have sorted out nearly all of the mistakes that are traditionally passed on to the youths who are putting their lives into inept trainers hands. If this man that plans to take a seven man team overseas (Note: back in 1986 there was talk of some of us New England boxers taking a trip to Europe to fight but it didn't pan out at that time) is in need of a coach/trainer/teacher let him know of my availability and my phone number etc. Give Mr. Barile and your family the best regards and you keep well and teach the real John Scully how to put ten or more punches together... but know this, it can be done and has been done after you jab your opponents head into position.
Thanks so much for the photo. Keep writing, let me know what you're doing.
Instructor Moore
The words of Archie Moore...
-
ICEMAN JOHN SCULLY
- Heavyweight
- Posts: 239
- Joined: 26 Jul 2006, 23:43
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ICEMAN JOHN SCULLY
- Heavyweight
- Posts: 239
- Joined: 26 Jul 2006, 23:43
The Old Mongoose
Arriving in the City Of the Angels October 10th,1957 I made my way the next day to 318 1/2 South Main Street in the heart of skid row to the Main Street gym. My story is for another day,this is about a hall of fame boxer and my brief brush with this real world champion Archie Moore Light-Heavyweight Champion . Training diligently for several months my team decided I was ready early in 1958 to begin my professional career. The leader and possessing the promotional clout for our stable was Mickey Davies who had migrated from the fisticuff scene in the Pittsburgh,West Virginia areas looking for greener pastures. A promoter and old friend of Mickeys had convinced World Champion Archie Moore to headline a show at the Swing Auditorium in San Bernardino. Not being locally connected he asked Mick to put together the undercard and naturally our stable had first call.
My assignment was to be one half of the emergency bout with another green pugilists,if there were a plethora of quick K.O.'s or the Main event ended prematurely we would go on; if not, we got bus fare.
Even before the show began we were informed we wouldn't go on period,the attendance was sparse,they barely had the carfare! However I had access to the dressing area and was interested in Archie of course, a boxing icon . He arrived nattily attired,carrying a narrow samsonite briefcase as did his companion and chief second. Archie was celebrated in the press about his ability to shed pounds and make the light-heavy limit,he mesmerized the print media about a secret formula he had acquired from the aborigines of Australia that made it possible. Well,he must have lapsed into a period of amnesia prior to this fight because he was carrying a spare tire appropriate for an over-the-road trucker ;not for a world champion! He felt my stare and sent a, "Who in the Hell are you kid glare back", I got the message and headed for the auditorium thinking this sure isn't the Old Mongoose,Archie also had explained the source of his prodigious knockout ability to his study of a ferret like mammal which fearlessly attacks and kills venomous snakes,hence the nickname the Mongoose, tonight he appeared to be and old cleaning woman after a hard night slopping a mop!
The show was a financial flop and ringside seats were available so I picked one out in the second row and waited for the Main Event. Archie was taking on Bert Whitehurst out of Baltimore a decent fighter and a legitimate heavyweight and unlike the champ he arrived fit as a fiddle for this encounter,he was 26 Arch 44,he was in shape ,the champ,well he was the champ and had kayoed Bert in June 54 at St Nick's in N.Y.C.
Bert from the neck down would resembled Evander Hollyfield of today and he was cut and ready !
Round after round Bert rained an avalanche of punches at ol'Arch who attempted to ward off the blows by utilizing his crab like defense of crossing his forearms in front of face and upper torso but some shots were getting through and the area around Archies nose was taking on a pinkish hue. This went on for nine rounds and Bert was well ahead as the bell concluding the ninth rung! This would be a large victory for Whitehurst and lead to better paydays,for Arch it would be an embarassment!
During the rest period Moore's seconds were in a frantic state urging the Ol'Mongoose to do something to correct this abberation that was unfolding before them, Archie however was calm and he appeared to be younger ,he motioned with his right hand for the mouthpiece and when the bell sounded it wasn't the old washer woman trudging to the center of the ring for the customary touching of the gloves,it was the MONGOOSE !
Punch after punch landed on Bert's kisser just like a comic strip Slap#^&Bang)*%Bang *&##CRASH! Bert bounced as he hit the canvas and it was over just like that!
It was time to get payed and I was told to go get my bus tokens in the dressing room,there was Arch again looking even sharper than when he arrived earlier in the evening,check in hand,heading out the door for the short ride back to San Diego. Another day at the office!
Several years later I would again be in the presence of the Champ but the ending wasn't a happy One!
That's a story for another time.
Sincerely,
Tommy Noel
Arriving in the City Of the Angels October 10th,1957 I made my way the next day to 318 1/2 South Main Street in the heart of skid row to the Main Street gym. My story is for another day,this is about a hall of fame boxer and my brief brush with this real world champion Archie Moore Light-Heavyweight Champion . Training diligently for several months my team decided I was ready early in 1958 to begin my professional career. The leader and possessing the promotional clout for our stable was Mickey Davies who had migrated from the fisticuff scene in the Pittsburgh,West Virginia areas looking for greener pastures. A promoter and old friend of Mickeys had convinced World Champion Archie Moore to headline a show at the Swing Auditorium in San Bernardino. Not being locally connected he asked Mick to put together the undercard and naturally our stable had first call.
My assignment was to be one half of the emergency bout with another green pugilists,if there were a plethora of quick K.O.'s or the Main event ended prematurely we would go on; if not, we got bus fare.
Even before the show began we were informed we wouldn't go on period,the attendance was sparse,they barely had the carfare! However I had access to the dressing area and was interested in Archie of course, a boxing icon . He arrived nattily attired,carrying a narrow samsonite briefcase as did his companion and chief second. Archie was celebrated in the press about his ability to shed pounds and make the light-heavy limit,he mesmerized the print media about a secret formula he had acquired from the aborigines of Australia that made it possible. Well,he must have lapsed into a period of amnesia prior to this fight because he was carrying a spare tire appropriate for an over-the-road trucker ;not for a world champion! He felt my stare and sent a, "Who in the Hell are you kid glare back", I got the message and headed for the auditorium thinking this sure isn't the Old Mongoose,Archie also had explained the source of his prodigious knockout ability to his study of a ferret like mammal which fearlessly attacks and kills venomous snakes,hence the nickname the Mongoose, tonight he appeared to be and old cleaning woman after a hard night slopping a mop!
The show was a financial flop and ringside seats were available so I picked one out in the second row and waited for the Main Event. Archie was taking on Bert Whitehurst out of Baltimore a decent fighter and a legitimate heavyweight and unlike the champ he arrived fit as a fiddle for this encounter,he was 26 Arch 44,he was in shape ,the champ,well he was the champ and had kayoed Bert in June 54 at St Nick's in N.Y.C.
Bert from the neck down would resembled Evander Hollyfield of today and he was cut and ready !
Round after round Bert rained an avalanche of punches at ol'Arch who attempted to ward off the blows by utilizing his crab like defense of crossing his forearms in front of face and upper torso but some shots were getting through and the area around Archies nose was taking on a pinkish hue. This went on for nine rounds and Bert was well ahead as the bell concluding the ninth rung! This would be a large victory for Whitehurst and lead to better paydays,for Arch it would be an embarassment!
During the rest period Moore's seconds were in a frantic state urging the Ol'Mongoose to do something to correct this abberation that was unfolding before them, Archie however was calm and he appeared to be younger ,he motioned with his right hand for the mouthpiece and when the bell sounded it wasn't the old washer woman trudging to the center of the ring for the customary touching of the gloves,it was the MONGOOSE !
Punch after punch landed on Bert's kisser just like a comic strip Slap#^&Bang)*%Bang *&##CRASH! Bert bounced as he hit the canvas and it was over just like that!
It was time to get payed and I was told to go get my bus tokens in the dressing room,there was Arch again looking even sharper than when he arrived earlier in the evening,check in hand,heading out the door for the short ride back to San Diego. Another day at the office!
Several years later I would again be in the presence of the Champ but the ending wasn't a happy One!
That's a story for another time.
Sincerely,
Tommy Noel
Jaclem,
Here is more of Tommy Noel's writings, thought you might enjoy reading it
BASHFUL IN BAKERSFIELD
It was 1961 and after a year without a boxing license due to being injured, I had resumed my career kicking it off with a preliminary bout on the Eder Jofre-Jose Medel Bantamweight title eliminator at the Grand Olympic Auditorium in downtown Los Angeles California. Miraculously after freezing up and being knocked down twice I scored a dramatic one punch knock out in the last round that brought down the house.
It was so exciting that I barely remember the Main Event as many of the boxing people were stopping by with congratulations and pats on the back as we all sat in the comped area designated for those on the show and insiders. My management team wanted to take me out for a celebratory drink, but there were two problems one minor the other major, #1 I didn't drink and #2 I had to be at work at eleven in the U.S. Postal main building in downtown Los Angels, still there today called the Terminal Annex. Not to mention two black eyes, I agreed to go in late and after being assured that a couple of 'Screwdrivers' wouldn't hurt me , after all it was made with orange juice, I downed them in a couple of gulps, with no problem because I was dehydrated from the fight it was summertime and hot.
So I arrived at work wearing a pair of sunglasses to cover the eyes and my workmates not being aware that I was a fighter had a grand time that eve dubbing me 'Joe Hollywood', its ironic that an hour or so before I was performing in front of 10,000 wild boxing fans and now was just another Joe at the T/A on the graveyard shift throwing mail. Finally when it was time to punch out, go off the clock that is, I was pretty tired, but I had been informed by the Matchmaker and my about to be full time promoter, Mickey Davies after the fight that I had to go in the morning to take some publicity photos for a spread titled, ' Up and Coming California Boxers' for the next Edition of the 'Ring Magazine', thank God that the photographers studio was only a few blocks from where I lived and when I hit the morning breeze exiting from the Post Office I was invigorated, so black eyes and all I headed for the corner of Western and Melrose in West Los Angeles for the photo shoot.
Following, there were a series of preliminary bouts at the Olympic which coupled with some adroit matchmaking I was able to win them all, but for some reason I was always able to put on a good show and was popular with the fans. With connections, the preliminary matchmaker, Mickey Davies an assistant to George 'The Greek' Parnassus, the main go to in Los Angeles at that time placed me on some championship cards and I was now training fulltime having left the Post Office to concentrate on a boxing career.
Mickey 'always hustling' Davies landed a Matchmaking job for Steve Strelich and old rassler at his aptly named stadium in Bakersfield, California 'Strelich Stadium'. Who better to promote in the new venue, well home town guys and familar faces, one of those faces being me!
Signing for fight in Bakersfield, Seated L to R Tommy Noel, Larry Soto -Opponents American Representative, Trainer Denny Abenellia and Matchmaker Davies
But by that time I needed sure cash because we now had two kids so I had taken a job at a Electrical distribution warehouse a few weeks before the first in a series of shows were to be presented at Strelich. Bakersfield is about 160 miles north of Los Angeles and in those days a freeway was only a dream, you took the old Ridge Route, two lanes and 18 wheelers going in and out of Los Angeles up and down the coast.
During Lunch time I rode over to the State Athletic commissions office on Spring Street in downtown and weighed in and Mickey told me he would pick me up at work about 2;00,
I told the warehouse supervisor I had a dental, appointment, the things you have to do to be a boxer. Yeh, he picked me up with out a hitch but the car was full off other fighters and there was not much stretching room.
After a dangerous ride up the 'Ridge Route', getting stopped by the Highway patrol and Mickey injuring his leg as we jumped into a ditch to do some road side business, rest Stops hadn't been thought off yet, we arrived in Bakerspatch as I affectionatley called it. So this is it, were fighting here tonight, over to our left was a spherical type building, that's the stadium, Strelich Stadium and Spa. The rest of the infrequent buildings I viewed as we made our way down the main drag were 'Honky Tonk' bars featuring Western music. Oh. just wonderfull I mused, I had given up an easy life for the fame and fortune of being a big sports star and this is it, Oh my God, what is this? Bakersfield was known predominantly as an Oil Producing Area in those days.
We pulled up next to a very decent coffee shop which was designated as the pre-fight gathering place for those on the nights show including the members of the State Athletic commission. I stuck close to Mickey and we sat down at a table with the assigned chief athletic commissioner for that night, and as I quietly consumed my pre-fight meal, Mickey and the state representative got in a heated argument about the quality of my opponent for the night, (not a representative actions by either of these gentlemen), finally Mickey realizing I was listening, told me, "You finished eating? go take a walk,( basically you don't need to hear this), so I was more than happy to go out and get some air and stretch my legs in the conveniently adjacent park.
But as I strolled by a couple of kids, they began pointing at me and shouting that's him, and I'm going, what's this all about? There was a newspaper rack nearby with the local paper being displayed and there was my mug, (Ring magazine photo), taking up almost the entire space above the fold, with the caption local boy fights tonight at Strelich, Hell I was only one of the supporting bouts, not the main go, picture on front page?
Oh Jesus! I got to fight and now I'm the hometown boy, I never heard of this place until two weeks ago, oh shit! When I got back to the diner, Mickey, What in the hell are you doing? I never been here before in my life. He replied, "Don't worry about it, you're the 'Greenfield Gladiator', that's a farming area a few miles outside of town, nobody will know the difference." First promoting lesson, home town boys sell tickets.
Stadium time- we arrive and are directed to the dressing area, sitting in the first row of seats was a local Bakersfield fighter I had knocked out at the Hollywood Legion in Los Angeles, he came to see the show, yeh! nobody will know. Dressing room, well just a hook on the wall in an empty room would have been better, it was like a series of wooden stalls, probably and old sauna bathe cubicle that was no longer used, suitable for one body, except two fighters were assigned to each area and who do I draw but one of my rideing companions, Jimmy Fletcher a heavyweight no less, he was fighting another local guy at least he was billed as such? things we're gettin worse. So we somehow got our respective gear on as from time to time we were knee to knee, and besides that it was pitch dark. Jimmy was frustrated, he didn't say a word but I could tell by his body language that he was unhappy, I wasn't jumping for joy either.
Fight Time-Back then it wasn't unusual to never have had seen your opponent prior to the introductions and this was no exception. He was tall and rangy, the minute the opening bell chimed I was eating a stiff left jab over and over and wasn't getting off, fight talk for throwing some punches. On top of that my manager and trainer had been late getting out of Los Angeles and I had a substitute in my corner giving me instructions, which I was pretty unhappy with, come on' throw some punches, he urged, what's wrong with you? If you understand the Hot Headed Irish Mind like mine you don't like anyone telling you what to do especially a stranger, so I was doing exactly the opposite.
Finally in the fifth I had had enough and opened up and soon had dispatched my opponent to the canvas and the best referee I ever had, (John Thomas), who went unnoticed to that point stepped in a stopped the fight, he was an accomplished boxer in his own right and knew what he was doing and he was adept at keeping out of the way and administering his duties in a professional manner, something today's attention seeking arbitrators should aspire to emulate.
Happy- yeh, I was happy, I won and was ready for a shower after this hectic day before the ride back to Los Angeles and catch a few hours shut eye before going back to work in the warehouse in the A.M. except my opponent Alsonso Miranda was already in the shower and I had to wait for him to finish, once he came out he engaged me in a conversation and told me that the punches I had hit him with had paralyzed him and he couldn't get up! He was very gracious.
Pay Time-On the way to the paymaster, a lady in the ticket booth, John Thomas hailed me down and was giving me some advice on how not to wait so long before getting going, you know start fighting right away, and then we were interrupted by a fan who congratulated me and proceded to admonish John Thomas for stopping the fight so soon, but I jumped right in and explained of my conversation with Alfonso where he admitted he was helpless, so you see it takes an experienced pair of eyes to realize what's going on in a fight, both the fan and myself didn't realize that Alfonso was unable to continue but Thomas did!
I saw Alfonso fight again a few years later at the Olympic against a well regarded Los Angeles Lightweight Ralph Bunch, Al had moved up to the higher- weight class and the people sitting next to me were estatic over Al's performance, I was anxious to tell the fans Ya, but I knocked this guy out, but decided to remain silent, because they would have never believed me I figured, so what's the use.
More in future stories about my escapades in Bakersfield in the early sixties coming soon..
Sincerely, Tommy Noel
Here is more of Tommy Noel's writings, thought you might enjoy reading it
BASHFUL IN BAKERSFIELD
It was 1961 and after a year without a boxing license due to being injured, I had resumed my career kicking it off with a preliminary bout on the Eder Jofre-Jose Medel Bantamweight title eliminator at the Grand Olympic Auditorium in downtown Los Angeles California. Miraculously after freezing up and being knocked down twice I scored a dramatic one punch knock out in the last round that brought down the house.
It was so exciting that I barely remember the Main Event as many of the boxing people were stopping by with congratulations and pats on the back as we all sat in the comped area designated for those on the show and insiders. My management team wanted to take me out for a celebratory drink, but there were two problems one minor the other major, #1 I didn't drink and #2 I had to be at work at eleven in the U.S. Postal main building in downtown Los Angels, still there today called the Terminal Annex. Not to mention two black eyes, I agreed to go in late and after being assured that a couple of 'Screwdrivers' wouldn't hurt me , after all it was made with orange juice, I downed them in a couple of gulps, with no problem because I was dehydrated from the fight it was summertime and hot.
So I arrived at work wearing a pair of sunglasses to cover the eyes and my workmates not being aware that I was a fighter had a grand time that eve dubbing me 'Joe Hollywood', its ironic that an hour or so before I was performing in front of 10,000 wild boxing fans and now was just another Joe at the T/A on the graveyard shift throwing mail. Finally when it was time to punch out, go off the clock that is, I was pretty tired, but I had been informed by the Matchmaker and my about to be full time promoter, Mickey Davies after the fight that I had to go in the morning to take some publicity photos for a spread titled, ' Up and Coming California Boxers' for the next Edition of the 'Ring Magazine', thank God that the photographers studio was only a few blocks from where I lived and when I hit the morning breeze exiting from the Post Office I was invigorated, so black eyes and all I headed for the corner of Western and Melrose in West Los Angeles for the photo shoot.
Following, there were a series of preliminary bouts at the Olympic which coupled with some adroit matchmaking I was able to win them all, but for some reason I was always able to put on a good show and was popular with the fans. With connections, the preliminary matchmaker, Mickey Davies an assistant to George 'The Greek' Parnassus, the main go to in Los Angeles at that time placed me on some championship cards and I was now training fulltime having left the Post Office to concentrate on a boxing career.
Mickey 'always hustling' Davies landed a Matchmaking job for Steve Strelich and old rassler at his aptly named stadium in Bakersfield, California 'Strelich Stadium'. Who better to promote in the new venue, well home town guys and familar faces, one of those faces being me!
Signing for fight in Bakersfield, Seated L to R Tommy Noel, Larry Soto -Opponents American Representative, Trainer Denny Abenellia and Matchmaker Davies
But by that time I needed sure cash because we now had two kids so I had taken a job at a Electrical distribution warehouse a few weeks before the first in a series of shows were to be presented at Strelich. Bakersfield is about 160 miles north of Los Angeles and in those days a freeway was only a dream, you took the old Ridge Route, two lanes and 18 wheelers going in and out of Los Angeles up and down the coast.
During Lunch time I rode over to the State Athletic commissions office on Spring Street in downtown and weighed in and Mickey told me he would pick me up at work about 2;00,
I told the warehouse supervisor I had a dental, appointment, the things you have to do to be a boxer. Yeh, he picked me up with out a hitch but the car was full off other fighters and there was not much stretching room.
After a dangerous ride up the 'Ridge Route', getting stopped by the Highway patrol and Mickey injuring his leg as we jumped into a ditch to do some road side business, rest Stops hadn't been thought off yet, we arrived in Bakerspatch as I affectionatley called it. So this is it, were fighting here tonight, over to our left was a spherical type building, that's the stadium, Strelich Stadium and Spa. The rest of the infrequent buildings I viewed as we made our way down the main drag were 'Honky Tonk' bars featuring Western music. Oh. just wonderfull I mused, I had given up an easy life for the fame and fortune of being a big sports star and this is it, Oh my God, what is this? Bakersfield was known predominantly as an Oil Producing Area in those days.
We pulled up next to a very decent coffee shop which was designated as the pre-fight gathering place for those on the nights show including the members of the State Athletic commission. I stuck close to Mickey and we sat down at a table with the assigned chief athletic commissioner for that night, and as I quietly consumed my pre-fight meal, Mickey and the state representative got in a heated argument about the quality of my opponent for the night, (not a representative actions by either of these gentlemen), finally Mickey realizing I was listening, told me, "You finished eating? go take a walk,( basically you don't need to hear this), so I was more than happy to go out and get some air and stretch my legs in the conveniently adjacent park.
But as I strolled by a couple of kids, they began pointing at me and shouting that's him, and I'm going, what's this all about? There was a newspaper rack nearby with the local paper being displayed and there was my mug, (Ring magazine photo), taking up almost the entire space above the fold, with the caption local boy fights tonight at Strelich, Hell I was only one of the supporting bouts, not the main go, picture on front page?
Oh Jesus! I got to fight and now I'm the hometown boy, I never heard of this place until two weeks ago, oh shit! When I got back to the diner, Mickey, What in the hell are you doing? I never been here before in my life. He replied, "Don't worry about it, you're the 'Greenfield Gladiator', that's a farming area a few miles outside of town, nobody will know the difference." First promoting lesson, home town boys sell tickets.
Stadium time- we arrive and are directed to the dressing area, sitting in the first row of seats was a local Bakersfield fighter I had knocked out at the Hollywood Legion in Los Angeles, he came to see the show, yeh! nobody will know. Dressing room, well just a hook on the wall in an empty room would have been better, it was like a series of wooden stalls, probably and old sauna bathe cubicle that was no longer used, suitable for one body, except two fighters were assigned to each area and who do I draw but one of my rideing companions, Jimmy Fletcher a heavyweight no less, he was fighting another local guy at least he was billed as such? things we're gettin worse. So we somehow got our respective gear on as from time to time we were knee to knee, and besides that it was pitch dark. Jimmy was frustrated, he didn't say a word but I could tell by his body language that he was unhappy, I wasn't jumping for joy either.
Fight Time-Back then it wasn't unusual to never have had seen your opponent prior to the introductions and this was no exception. He was tall and rangy, the minute the opening bell chimed I was eating a stiff left jab over and over and wasn't getting off, fight talk for throwing some punches. On top of that my manager and trainer had been late getting out of Los Angeles and I had a substitute in my corner giving me instructions, which I was pretty unhappy with, come on' throw some punches, he urged, what's wrong with you? If you understand the Hot Headed Irish Mind like mine you don't like anyone telling you what to do especially a stranger, so I was doing exactly the opposite.
Finally in the fifth I had had enough and opened up and soon had dispatched my opponent to the canvas and the best referee I ever had, (John Thomas), who went unnoticed to that point stepped in a stopped the fight, he was an accomplished boxer in his own right and knew what he was doing and he was adept at keeping out of the way and administering his duties in a professional manner, something today's attention seeking arbitrators should aspire to emulate.
Happy- yeh, I was happy, I won and was ready for a shower after this hectic day before the ride back to Los Angeles and catch a few hours shut eye before going back to work in the warehouse in the A.M. except my opponent Alsonso Miranda was already in the shower and I had to wait for him to finish, once he came out he engaged me in a conversation and told me that the punches I had hit him with had paralyzed him and he couldn't get up! He was very gracious.
Pay Time-On the way to the paymaster, a lady in the ticket booth, John Thomas hailed me down and was giving me some advice on how not to wait so long before getting going, you know start fighting right away, and then we were interrupted by a fan who congratulated me and proceded to admonish John Thomas for stopping the fight so soon, but I jumped right in and explained of my conversation with Alfonso where he admitted he was helpless, so you see it takes an experienced pair of eyes to realize what's going on in a fight, both the fan and myself didn't realize that Alfonso was unable to continue but Thomas did!
I saw Alfonso fight again a few years later at the Olympic against a well regarded Los Angeles Lightweight Ralph Bunch, Al had moved up to the higher- weight class and the people sitting next to me were estatic over Al's performance, I was anxious to tell the fans Ya, but I knocked this guy out, but decided to remain silent, because they would have never believed me I figured, so what's the use.
More in future stories about my escapades in Bakersfield in the early sixties coming soon..
Sincerely, Tommy Noel
-
ICEMAN JOHN SCULLY
- Heavyweight
- Posts: 239
- Joined: 26 Jul 2006, 23:43
-
ICEMAN JOHN SCULLY
- Heavyweight
- Posts: 239
- Joined: 26 Jul 2006, 23:43
-
ICEMAN JOHN SCULLY
- Heavyweight
- Posts: 239
- Joined: 26 Jul 2006, 23:43
Fantastic stuff.ICEMAN JOHN SCULLY wrote:This just came out today....
http://www.eastsideboxing.com/news.php?p=12447&more=1
Priceless really.Some great lessons there from Arche.
Not just boxing , but life also.
Kikibalt thats great stuff from Tommy Noel also.
This is a great thread.