BoxRec

kikibalt wrote:
Roberto Duran

Roberto clearly signed first and THEN asked for the bloke's name.

Oresille Qualls

Bennie
What's the economy over there like? Things are unraveling pretty fast here. We're in such debt that our money is becoming worthless. I'm thinking of converting my savings into a more "solid" currency. It will probably lose some value,but at the rate it's going in the U.S the dollar will be down to nothing.

Vicente Fox(outgoing Pres. of Mexico)said the Amero is an inevitability(like the Euro,except it would be between Canada,U.S. and Mexico). If they pay us off fractions on the dollar with Ameros,all hell is going break loose. Also this Hal Turner,who they forced off the air here,is saying the Amero is on the horizon.

I got a friend whose line is converting currencies. I'm going to touch bases with him. What's your take? Rog

dagosd2000 wrote:Bennie
What's the economy over there like? Things are unraveling pretty fast here. We're in such debt that our money is becoming worthless. I'm thinking of converting my savings into a more "solid" currency. It will probably lose some value,but at the rate it's going in the U.S the dollar will be down to nothing.

Vicente Fox(outgoing Pres. of Mexico)said the Amero is an inevitability(like the Euro,except it would be between Canada,U.S. and Mexico). If they pay us off fractions on the dollar with Ameros,all hell is going break loose. Also this Hal Turner,who they forced off the air here,is saying the Amero is on the horizon.

I got a friend whose line is converting currencies. I'm going to touch bases with him. What's your take? Rog

Same here, Rog. New car sales have plummeted, houses aren't selling (they were priced too high, anyway) and all we hear all the time is "credit crunch" this and "credit crunch" that.

kikibalt wrote:

Rick Farris wrote:"Irish" Frankie Crawford's son, Jeff . . .

In 1996, when I was working on the movie CON AIR, Carlos Palomino and Mando Ramos visited our sound stage at Hollywood Center Studios. I hadn't seen Mando in years and it was a nice reunion. As we talked, the late Frankie Crawford's name enters the conversation, and Palomino tells me that Frankie's youngest son, Jeff, was training for a pro career under Jackie McCoy. Carlos said that Jackie was impressed with Jeff's one shot KO power, and a toughness that had been his father's trade mark. Like his old man, Jeff Crawford liked to fight.

In his first pro bout, Jeff flattened his opponent in the opening round, just like I remember his dad doing to a tough vet named Chuey Loera at the Olympic, during the mid-60's. I didn't see Jeff's fight, but I'll never forget young Frankie's whistling left hook, that nearly decapitated Loera. Referee Lee Grossman didn't even bother to count. Sadly, Jackie McCoy would soon pass away, and so would the boxing career of Jeff Crawford. At this point, I don't know all the details, however, thru a mutual friend, I'll meet Jeff Crawford soon. I knew his dad, I boxed with him in the gym, saw him away from the gym, we have mutual friends, I know his sister Cris, whom Frankie called "Choo Choo".

I've been writing about Frankie Crawford for years, and I'm putting all these memories into one full story. I look forward to meeting Jeff Crawford. Jeff is in his late 30's. His older brother, Frankie Jr., passed away earlier this year. Another family tragedy. Frankie Crawford is one of the most interesting charactors I have ever met. Everybody who knew him says the same thing. I wasn't close with Frankie, as was our mutual friend, John Brumshagen, however, I was close enough to him and right in the mix of the era. You hear a variety of opinions regarding Frankie Crawford, I guess it depends on how you knew him. Like most fighters, Frankie was a different breed of cat. I liked Frankie Crawford, and I respected him. He had a certain class that you never hear about. He was crazy, but I don't mean that in a bad way (although he could be bad). I mean, what more can you say . . . he was a FIGHTER. One of the best of a great era.


-Rick Farris

Rick, I didn't know that Frankie's son also boxed, btw, thanks so much for all the Frankie Crawford's stories.

I saw Frankie Crawford with some friends watching the fights at the Coliseum. He didn't smile much. Looked all wound up. Looked like the kind of guy who'd take a swing first,then ask what you meant by that.

bennie wrote:

dagosd2000 wrote:Bennie
What's the economy over there like? Things are unraveling pretty fast here. We're in such debt that our money is becoming worthless. I'm thinking of converting my savings into a more "solid" currency. It will probably lose some value,but at the rate it's going in the U.S the dollar will be down to nothing.

Vicente Fox(outgoing Pres. of Mexico)said the Amero is an inevitability(like the Euro,except it would be between Canada,U.S. and Mexico). If they pay us off fractions on the dollar with Ameros,all hell is going break loose. Also this Hal Turner,who they forced off the air here,is saying the Amero is on the horizon.

I got a friend whose line is converting currencies. I'm going to touch bases with him. What's your take? Rog

Same here, Rog. New car sales have plummeted, houses aren't selling (they were priced too high, anyway) and all we hear all the time is "credit crunch" this and "credit crunch" that.

Ben
They're talking about a "collapse" of our automotive industry. We're 2 trillion dollars in debt to China alone. If the banks won't accept U.S dollars and tell us to convert to something else(a higher currency)there will be civil unrest. I'm losing my health over this because people don't see the consequences of what is ahead.

Russian giant Nikolai Valuev defends his WBA heavyweight title against American veteran Evander Holyfield in Switzerland on December 20, a match almost guaranteed to dampen the Christmas cheer - a mismatch.
Holyfield goes in with the 23 stone, 7ft tall Valuev who, by his very size is a punishing opponent, and he goes in with him at the age of 46 after 24 punishing, draining years as a pro. Holyfield is a worn-out fighter, and Valuev is not the kind of opponent to 'move' to a decision: he rumbles forward and whacks his opponents hard and often in a robotic, uncaring, seemingly unthinking fashion, a literal monster of a man, a monster of a fighter.
The Mummy.
Valuev won the WBA title with a unanimous decision over Puerto Rico's John Ruiz last time out in August in Germany and has lost only to slick Uzbekistani Ruslan Chagaev in 51 fights. Some record. Southpaw Chagaev outmanoeuvred and outpointed him (narrowly) for the same WBA belt in April 2007 but seems none too keen to face him again and vacated the title, officially on an injury, and Valuev licked Ruiz in turn. The Beast from the East has won three on the spin since the Chagaev setback and shown real boxing improvement under new trainer Alexander Zimin, who coached the old Soviet Union amateur boxing team, weakening his opponents with a thumping jab before unloading the heavier stuff. All the time, his sheer size and weight also grinds the opposition down.
By way of contrast Holyfield, "The Real Deal", dealt his last ace a long, long time ago and was comprehensively outscored by another Russian, Sultan Ibragimov - a comparitive dwarf by Valuev standards at 6ft 2ins - over 12 rounds in his last outing 14 months ago in Moscow. Holyfield never looked like winning and was lucky in that southpaw Ibragimov is a boxer. Loose and relaxed, Ibragimov was content to outbox Holyfield, who showed fitness and guts but none of the quickness and sharpness to remind us of all his glory years, all his glory fights with Tyson, Bowe, Lewis, Cooper, Toney, Dokes and Qawi. He took part in a gut-wrenching 15-rounder with Qawi to first win a world title back in 1986 and has been slugging it out - fight in, fight out - seemingly ever since.
Evander was always a 'smart' boxer - but a 'smart' man? His refusal to recognise his waning talents, and his age, in the belief he can win a world title yet again smacks of denial, at best, and sheer stupidity, at worst, which are harsh things to say about a brave, brave man but we already have to endure little Manny Pacquiao against Oscar De La Hoya in the same month and boxing does not need two 'risky' fights like this in the space of a few weeks.
It is a worry.

dagosd2000 wrote:

kikibalt wrote:

Rick Farris wrote:"Irish" Frankie Crawford's son, Jeff . . .

In 1996, when I was working on the movie CON AIR, Carlos Palomino and Mando Ramos visited our sound stage at Hollywood Center Studios. I hadn't seen Mando in years and it was a nice reunion. As we talked, the late Frankie Crawford's name enters the conversation, and Palomino tells me that Frankie's youngest son, Jeff, was training for a pro career under Jackie McCoy. Carlos said that Jackie was impressed with Jeff's one shot KO power, and a toughness that had been his father's trade mark. Like his old man, Jeff Crawford liked to fight.

In his first pro bout, Jeff flattened his opponent in the opening round, just like I remember his dad doing to a tough vet named Chuey Loera at the Olympic, during the mid-60's. I didn't see Jeff's fight, but I'll never forget young Frankie's whistling left hook, that nearly decapitated Loera. Referee Lee Grossman didn't even bother to count. Sadly, Jackie McCoy would soon pass away, and so would the boxing career of Jeff Crawford. At this point, I don't know all the details, however, thru a mutual friend, I'll meet Jeff Crawford soon. I knew his dad, I boxed with him in the gym, saw him away from the gym, we have mutual friends, I know his sister Cris, whom Frankie called "Choo Choo".

I've been writing about Frankie Crawford for years, and I'm putting all these memories into one full story. I look forward to meeting Jeff Crawford. Jeff is in his late 30's. His older brother, Frankie Jr., passed away earlier this year. Another family tragedy. Frankie Crawford is one of the most interesting charactors I have ever met. Everybody who knew him says the same thing. I wasn't close with Frankie, as was our mutual friend, John Brumshagen, however, I was close enough to him and right in the mix of the era. You hear a variety of opinions regarding Frankie Crawford, I guess it depends on how you knew him. Like most fighters, Frankie was a different breed of cat. I liked Frankie Crawford, and I respected him. He had a certain class that you never hear about. He was crazy, but I don't mean that in a bad way (although he could be bad). I mean, what more can you say . . . he was a FIGHTER. One of the best of a great era.


-Rick Farris

Rick, I didn't know that Frankie's son also boxed, btw, thanks so much for all the Frankie Crawford's stories.

I saw Frankie Crawford with some friends watching the fights at the Coliseum. He didn't smile much. Looked all wound up. Looked like the kind of guy who'd take a swing first,then ask what you meant by that.

There seems to be enough stories between Crawford & Conrad to make a pretty good movie out of it; too bad Sean Penn isn't a little younger I could see him pulling off Crawford! Rick sounds like you better sharpen your pencil!
Bobbin & Weavin

Charlie Riley vs Ray Famechon

dagosd2000 wrote:

kikibalt wrote:

Rick Farris wrote:"Irish" Frankie Crawford's son, Jeff . . .

In 1996, when I was working on the movie CON AIR, Carlos Palomino and Mando Ramos visited our sound stage at Hollywood Center Studios. I hadn't seen Mando in years and it was a nice reunion. As we talked, the late Frankie Crawford's name enters the conversation, and Palomino tells me that Frankie's youngest son, Jeff, was training for a pro career under Jackie McCoy. Carlos said that Jackie was impressed with Jeff's one shot KO power, and a toughness that had been his father's trade mark. Like his old man, Jeff Crawford liked to fight.

In his first pro bout, Jeff flattened his opponent in the opening round, just like I remember his dad doing to a tough vet named Chuey Loera at the Olympic, during the mid-60's. I didn't see Jeff's fight, but I'll never forget young Frankie's whistling left hook, that nearly decapitated Loera. Referee Lee Grossman didn't even bother to count. Sadly, Jackie McCoy would soon pass away, and so would the boxing career of Jeff Crawford. At this point, I don't know all the details, however, thru a mutual friend, I'll meet Jeff Crawford soon. I knew his dad, I boxed with him in the gym, saw him away from the gym, we have mutual friends, I know his sister Cris, whom Frankie called "Choo Choo".

I've been writing about Frankie Crawford for years, and I'm putting all these memories into one full story. I look forward to meeting Jeff Crawford. Jeff is in his late 30's. His older brother, Frankie Jr., passed away earlier this year. Another family tragedy. Frankie Crawford is one of the most interesting charactors I have ever met. Everybody who knew him says the same thing. I wasn't close with Frankie, as was our mutual friend, John Brumshagen, however, I was close enough to him and right in the mix of the era. You hear a variety of opinions regarding Frankie Crawford, I guess it depends on how you knew him. Like most fighters, Frankie was a different breed of cat. I liked Frankie Crawford, and I respected him. He had a certain class that you never hear about. He was crazy, but I don't mean that in a bad way (although he could be bad). I mean, what more can you say . . . he was a FIGHTER. One of the best of a great era.


-Rick Farris

Rick, I didn't know that Frankie's son also boxed, btw, thanks so much for all the Frankie Crawford's stories.

I saw Frankie Crawford with some friends watching the fights at the Coliseum. He didn't smile much. Looked all wound up. Looked like the kind of guy who'd take a swing first,then ask what you meant by that.

That was Frankie, Roger. Things rarely led up to a fight with Crawford, he'd end matters before they got started. Mando Ramos told me a story of how he, Frankie, Raul Rojas and Ruben Navarro (who all fought each other in the ring) were in Las Vegas together drinking. Now, all these guys, with the exception of Ramos, liked to fight when they'd had a few drinks, so you can imagine the potential for trouble.

They are in this bar, and Mando says he is sitting next to Crawford, who sees his favorite waitress being disrespected by some big cowboy. Mando told me that Frankie watched for awhile and his blood began to boil. Mando says the guy was huge, "I wouldn't have wanted to fight the guy", said Ramos. Frankie finally stands up and walks over to the guy and Mando knew, without question, that Crawford was going to fire on him. Crawford had a false tooth in front, which he would casually remove from his mouth if he thought he might be fighting a guy who could give him trouble. As Crawford approaches the cowboy he pulls his false tooth from his mouth with his right hand and slips it in is pocket, before the guy could say a word Frank leveled him with his left hook. "You should have seen the guy go down", Mando exclaimed. "He was out cold". The guy was so big that when he hit the floor it made a big thud. Crawford then replaced his false tooth and tells the the unconcious customer, "Next time pick on a man, c___sucker!"

Needless to say, the four were asked to leave and they did, with Ruben Navarro wearing the fallen cowboy's ten gallon hat.

These guys were the real "Fearsome Foursome".


-Rick Farris

Frankie Crawford

From the CBZ



Thank you, friend Frank:

Our sharp eyed posters must have noticed that there are two Angustain brothers shown on this thread. The younger one, Mike, was a rough customer for any of his contemporaries when he was doing well.

After he had retired he was in the news because he adamantly refused to leave his home in Chavez Ravine. He defied the powers who had brought bull dozers to try to evacuate his family from their home to make room for Dodger Stadium. That was typical of young Mike, who never took a backward step in his ring battles.

hap navarro

BUSTIN' THE PLACE OUT

It's funny how fighters ,after they're on decline,can't supprt themselves with what they make in the ring. Sometimes they go overboard and spend more than they take in,but I remember Denny Moyer when he finished up on the Coast. He was always working a job,and fighting. Oh,he'd go up to Flaherty's camp in the mountains before a fight,but I think that was to try to dry out from all the booze. Denny already knew how to fight.

One time Moyer was working at a place that made pizzas and served beer. I think Denny liked dipping into the cooler for a cold one,or maybe that was part of his salary. Anyway he put the word out that his boss lost his lease. The boss is sore, so he tells Denny to invite his friends over for a going away party.

When I arrive and I see the usual gang of gym rats. Wilson,the Millsapps,Pat Vetere,and a couple of pugs I'd seen,but don't know the names. It's near closing and no one is feeling any pain. The drinks were on the boss. That's a green light for a bunch of Irishmen,me and Vetere excluded. Just before closing these two biker dudes walk in. It don't mean nothin' to me,but Moyer and Wilson are mad. They stalk up to these two grungy dudes and Ronnie says,"You got to leave."
Then on queue,Moyer bashes the one dude in the face. Wilson starts to go for a mug,and both biker dudes haul ass out the door,split lip with them.

Denny turns to us and says,"I'm gonna lock the door."
I figure he's gonna kill us.
"Let's bust this out",he says.
The next thing you know beer mugs are flying against the wall smashing glass all over. Everything in the freezer are thrown around. All the pool cues are broken. It's like a dozen hand grenades went off at once.

After the melee,a few days later,I saw Pat Vetere.
"What did the boss say?"
"If he said anything,he didn't say anything to Denny."

Marvelous Marvin Hagler

By Diego

Archie Moore
Charlemont, Massachusetts, August 18, 1955

Archie Moore in training for his fight with Rocky Maricano poses
at the statue "Hail to the Sunrise'". Moore claimed he was putting
the "Indian Sign" on Marciano.

My mom, circa 1952, at San Juan Bautista Mission.
San Juan Bautista, Ca.

Oscar De La Hoya takes on all comers at media day


Reed Saxon / Associated Press
Oscar De La Hoya, left, and Manny Pacquiao pose during a public rally in Los Angeles on Oct. 7. De La Hoya and Pacquiao will face each other on Dec. 6.
The boxer meets the press -- meaning pretty much anyone with a camera -- as he prepares for his bout with the younger, harder-punching Manny Pacquiao.

Bill Dwyre
LAtimes

There was a good omen the other day at Oscar De La Hoya's training camp. The venerable boxer stayed on his feet for more than two hours.

Not that the 35-year-old De La Hoya has spent all that much time on his back in a 16-year career of 44 fights and 39 wins. But the talk has been hot and heavy that De La Hoya's Dec. 6 opponent, the younger and harder-punching Manny Pacquiao, 29, is thinking knockout more than decision.

This, of course, is boxing at its promotional best. De La Hoya-Pacquiao is the biggest fight in the eyes of the public since De La Hoya-Floyd Mayweather Jr. on May 5, 2007. Mayweather won that one in a split decision and promptly retired, which means he will be back soon.

We went into thin air to witness firsthand how high the hype has been turned up with three weeks to go, and the scene at 8,800 feet in Big Bear, De La Hoya's training site for the first time in six years after his move to Puerto Rico, told all.

It was media day, which really meant camera day. Somehow, anybody with a camera within 40 square miles got in. If they still used film, as in the old days, Kodak could have declared an extra dividend. There was more snapping going on than in a bowl of Rice Krispies. The Internet has unlimited capacity, and if every picture snapped of De La Hoya at media day makes its way onto some website, that unlimited capacity will be exceeded.

As the posing and primping went on, ad nauseam, nuggets of news were breaking out.

De La Hoya had a shiner under his right eye and said it was the result of a Monday sparring session. "One of those thumb things," he said.

It's the same eye that he injured in his otherwise-dominating win over Stevie Forbes in his last fight, May 3 at the Home Depot Center. It's also the eye that is always the target of opponents of Pacquiao, who is so left-handed that one of his solid connections might truly be called an O-Bomb-A.

De La Hoya said he weighed 145 pounds, two below the fight weight. That was remarkable on several fronts.

He is the taller fighter, at 5 feet 10 1/2 inches, and has fought fights all the way up to 160 pounds. Pacquiao, at 5-6 1/2 , started his career at 106 in 1995, and the highest weight he has fought at was 134 in June when he beat up David Diaz and knocked him out in the ninth.

Pacquiao's camp reported earlier this week that he currently weighs 151.

"I'm the little guy now," De La Hoya said.

De La Hoya did look thin and lean, and his business partner, Richard Schaefer, chief executive of Golden Boy Promotions, joked that they had to change the company's poster-boy brand.

"Look at the logo," he said. "It's a skinnier silhouette."

Schaefer said the goal for HBO pay-per-view buys, which is always what all the hype is about, will be a realistic 1.5 million. The record was 2.4 million for De La Hoya-Mayweather, but that was before the U.S. economy started to resemble Iceland's. The price is $54.95. No decision yet on whether our food stamps will work.

"My wildest dreams would be to break the record," Schaefer said, "but it won't happen."

Also on hand at media day, giving the camera-clickers a variety of dull, posed shots to take, were TV star George Lopez and legendary trainer Angelo Dundee.

Lopez is a golfing buddy of De La Hoya's and he will be the master of ceremonies for the Dec. 5 weigh-in at Las Vegas' MGM Grand, site of the fight. Expect an upgrade from the usual guy asking us to get ready to rumble.

Dundee is a friend of new De La Hoya trainer Ignacio "Nacho" Beristain -- the sixth trainer to prepare De La Hoya for a fight in his career. Dundee, the man you saw forever in Muhammad Ali's corner, is 87 now and says he is with De La Hoya as an advisor.

"I've seen Oscar fight about 20 times and Pacquiao about 20 times," Dundee said. "I've already picked up a couple of flaws in Pacquiao and we'll work on that. I'll be at the fight, right behind Oscar's corner, but I won't say much unless I really see something. You can't have too many cooks doing the soup."

De La Hoya said all the usual things. He feels good, is training hard, can move up or down to various weight categories easily and is "gonna show Pacquiao who is the boss."

As the negotiations were going on to make this fight, De La Hoya indicated that this would be his finale, that he chose a young superstar to fight so he could go out either on top in victory or with his head held high in defeat. Now, of course, those retirement plans are fluid.

When asked about it, he only smiled, making him, in the most recent survey, the 272,456th boxer in history to say he would retire and didn't. Look for Mike Tyson's comeback announcement, any day now.

The extravaganza of excess will continue Monday, when Pacquiao has his media day. If you have a camera, can rent one, have a neighbor who will lend you one, promise to send all your buddies pictures from your cellphone or can prove you once went on YouTube, come on down.

You'll get in.

[email protected].

kikibalt wrote:
My mom, circa 1952, at San Juan Bautista Mission.
San Juan Bautista, Ca.

Frank
How many black and white photos of Mexican women,impassive faces,calm,a hidden strength,the dark beauty. They're nothing to mess around with. They are special. When God had mothers in mind,your Mom was probebly one of the test patterns.

Diego, another pic. of my mom, here with my dad, circa 1973
This pic. is the one we use in their head stone at the
Resurrection Cemetery in Montebello, Ca.
2008 is the ninetieth year of my mom's birth, my dad would
have been 95 on the 12th of this month.

My dad-1913-2000

My mom-1918-2001

kikibalt wrote:
Diego, another pic. of my mom, here with my dad, circa 1973
This pic. is the one we use in their head stone at the
Resurrection Cemetery in Montebello, Ca.
2008 is the ninetieth year of my mom's birth, my dad would
have been 95 on the 12th of this month.

My dad-1913-2000

My mom-1918-2001

Classic photo Frank. So is the black and white with your mom. Old family photos are my favorite. No matter how old we get, or how much time goes by, we still miss them. My mother is still alive. She'll be 80 in May. Your mother is about 11 years older than mine. She was born in 1929. Your father is ten years older than mine. He was born in 1923. Still miss him. He's buried at the Resurrection too. These photos get to me.

Randy

kikibalt wrote:
Diego, another pic. of my mom, here with my dad, circa 1973
This pic. is the one we use in their head stone at the
Resurrection Cemetery in Montebello, Ca.
2008 is the ninetieth year of my mom's birth, my dad would
have been 95 on the 12th of this month.

My dad-1913-2000

My mom-1918-2001

Frank
You and Connie. Me and Maria. When all is said and done,we can say it was the best investments we ever made. Your Dad is no longer with us to say that,but his face in that photo doesn't require words.

I remember the night my Father passed away at the house. I got the phone call from my sisters. My Mother said that she heard my Father groaning in the bedroom. She rushed in. He looked at her.
"I think I'm dying. I love you."
And then He was gone. I think it's supposed to end that way.

kikibalt wrote:
Roberto Duran

When Duran Was Duran!

dagosd2000 wrote:

kikibalt wrote:
Diego, another pic. of my mom, here with my dad, circa 1973
This pic. is the one we use in their head stone at the
Resurrection Cemetery in Montebello, Ca.
2008 is the ninetieth year of my mom's birth, my dad would
have been 95 on the 12th of this month.

My dad-1913-2000

My mom-1918-2001

Frank
You and Connie. Me and Maria. When all is said and done,we can say it was the best investments we ever made. Your Dad is no longer with us to say that,but his face in that photo doesn't require words.

I remember the night my Father passed away at the house. I got the phone call from my sisters. My Mother said that she heard my Father groaning in the bedroom. She rushed in. He looked at her.
"I think I'm dying. I love you."
And then He was gone. I think it's supposed to end that way.

Rog, a classic ending to a love story, and they are love stories.

Rick Farris wrote:

Randyman wrote:

Jeri and I stopped at PoFolks, in Buena Park, this morning for breakfast. I'm not sure wha's going on lately but we have been having a streak of bad luck. The bad luck streak was still in effect this morning. Breakfast is served til 11:00 and we just made it, getting there at 11:00am. There weren't too many people in there today but for some reason it took about 15 minutes to get us seated.

PoFolks is known for it's southern style cooking, at least in theory, Once upon a time they were a top of the line restaurant, attracting hungry diners leaving Knott's Berry Farm looking for some good eats. It's become a tourist trap. I take some resposibility. I should have known better.

I ordered a country fried pork chop with two sunny side up eggs, home fried potatoes and biscuits and gravy. Jeri had two eggs over easy, hash browns and bacon, with toast. Did I mention that it took 30 minutes before we were asked if we wanted coffee? 10 minutes before we got our coffee and another few minutes before we ordered. I can't explain why we didn't walk out. As the waitress, Christine, was taking our order, she leaned on our table, just a little too comfortable and tells my wife and I, "I am just so tired you know, I'll do a better job for you when you come back next time". My wife and I just looked at each other. I asked for an orange juice with my breakfast and her response was "Okay but you'll have to keep reminding me, I'm bad with drinks". Again, my wife and I just looked at each other.

I should mentioned that none of the waitress' looked very sanitary and hygenic. To a girl, they were sloppy with messy hair that looked like it might end up in our food. You can bet your bottom dollar I checked before I ate.

Sometime later, and by now, sporting a five o'clock shadow, our waitress brought our food to the table. She reached in front of me to lay the plate down, and just as the plate was within an inch of the table, another customer called my waitress. Instead of putting my plate down, she hangs onto it as she goes to see what the customer wants, She's holding my plate in front of her as she talks. I'm worried, not knowing if she was a spitter or not. She comes back puts the plate down and again tells us how tired she is, and how much better the service will be when we come back next time. my wife and I continue to exchange glances.

My wife looks at my plate and then at me and says in her most sympathetic tone "those home fries look horrible, would you like some of my hash browns?" They were every bit as bad as theylooked. The pork chop was dried but the crust was greasy. In a word, the food was lousy.

Anyway, to make a short story long, as she brought us our bill, she apologized continously for her sloppy service. Now niether my wife nor I complained the whole time we were there. Though it might have showed on our faces. She aplogized because she knew, instictively that she was doing a lousy job, at our expense. As she was talking, I was writing my review.

Then I said to her as she was complaining, "You know, I write reviews for a ratings website and I'll be doing a review of the restaurant,...and your service. Suddenly, she snapped to attention, and I mean that literally, she staightened up and asked me, suddenly in a concerned and compassionate voice "How was your food? My response was "At best? Barely adequate" "And the service? she asked. "You tell me." I said. There was a shift in power now. She looked at me and said in a small pitiful voice "it sucks?" "Well. there you go, it sucks. Your words not mine" but what did I do? "Well for starters you brought me apple juice. I ordered orange juice to which she responded "Oh yeah, that's right, I'll go get" "Never mind were going".

She ran and told the manager that I was writing a review on the restaurant. Suddenly I was getting the full treatment, but it was too late, we were leaving.

Randy . . . Your "review" was brilliant. It may not have produced a great dining experience, however, it's effect on the staff was funny. Intersting how things "change" when you add another perspective. This post should be run in the local newspaper in the "Dining Out" section.

-Rick

Rick, the look on her face was priceless. Too bad I didn't have a camera.

Randy

bennie wrote:

Randyman wrote:

Jeri and I stopped at PoFolks, in Buena Park, this morning for breakfast. I'm not sure wha's going on lately but we have been having a streak of bad luck. The bad luck streak was still in effect this morning. Breakfast is served til 11:00 and we just made it, getting there at 11:00am. There weren't too many people in there today but for some reason it took about 15 minutes to get us seated.

PoFolks is known for it's southern style cooking, at least in theory, Once upon a time they were a top of the line restaurant, attracting hungry diners leaving Knott's Berry Farm looking for some good eats. It's become a tourist trap. I take some resposibility. I should have known better.

I ordered a country fried pork chop with two sunny side up eggs, home fried potatoes and biscuits and gravy. Jeri had two eggs over easy, hash browns and bacon, with toast. Did I mention that it took 30 minutes before we were asked if we wanted coffee? 10 minutes before we got our coffee and another few minutes before we ordered. I can't explain why we didn't walk out. As the waitress, Christine, was taking our order, she leaned on our table, just a little too comfortable and tells my wife and I, "I am just so tired you know, I'll do a better job for you when you come back next time". My wife and I just looked at each other. I asked for an orange juice with my breakfast and her response was "Okay but you'll have to keep reminding me, I'm bad with drinks". Again, my wife and I just looked at each other.

I should mentioned that none of the waitress' looked very sanitary and hygenic. To a girl, they were sloppy with messy hair that looked like it might end up in our food. You can bet your bottom dollar I checked before I ate.

Sometime later, and by now, sporting a five o'clock shadow, our waitress brought our food to the table. She reached in front of me to lay the plate down, and just as the plate was within an inch of the table, another customer called my waitress. Instead of putting my plate down, she hangs onto it as she goes to see what the customer wants, She's holding my plate in front of her as she talks. I'm worried, not knowing if she was a spitter or not. She comes back puts the plate down and again tells us how tired she is, and how much better the service will be when we come back next time. my wife and I continue to exchange glances.

My wife looks at my plate and then at me and says in her most sympathetic tone "those home fries look horrible, would you like some of my hash browns?" They were every bit as bad as theylooked. The pork chop was dried but the crust was greasy. In a word, the food was lousy.

Anyway, to make a short story long, as she brought us our bill, she apologized continously for her sloppy service. Now niether my wife nor I complained the whole time we were there. Though it might have showed on our faces. She aplogized because she knew, instictively that she was doing a lousy job, at our expense. As she was talking, I was writing my review.

Then I said to her as she was complaining, "You know, I write reviews for a ratings website and I'll be doing a review of the restaurant,...and your service. Suddenly, she snapped to attention, and I mean that literally, she staightened up and asked me, suddenly in a concerned and compassionate voice "How was your food? My response was "At best? Barely adequate" "And the service? she asked. "You tell me." I said. There was a shift in power now. She looked at me and said in a small pitiful voice "it sucks?" "Well. there you go, it sucks. Your words not mine" but what did I do? "Well for starters you brought me apple juice. I ordered orange juice to which she responded "Oh yeah, that's right, I'll go get" "Never mind were going".

She ran and told the manager that I was writing a review on the restaurant. Suddenly I was getting the full treatment, but it was too late, we were leaving.

Sounds like the kind of 'service' we get in England.

Bennie, sadly, bad service knows no boundaries.

Randy