BoxRec

dagosd2000 wrote:

Expug wrote:

Randyman wrote:Rog, I'm glad to see you online. Jeri and I were worried about you and Maria, with that big plane crash in a San Diego neighborhood. Good to know you're okay!!

Randy

I thought the same thing Randy.
I'm glad that plane didnt get near Rog and Maria and family.

Thanks Guys
That jet did, however, crash less than a mile from the middle school that my grand daughter attends.

Too close for comfort Rog. Way too close.

I was thinking about Manny and Oscar, about how tough it can be to get old. Most of us don't have it shoved in our face so abruptly. Oh, there's no escaping it but most of us don't have to face it in front of millions of people. The thing about getting old and having your last fight is that you don't know you are old and having your last fight until you are smack dab in the middle of it. As unpleasant as it is to watch, it has to be a short visit to hell when it's you. Only in boxing can a thirty five year old man be old. Can there be any doubt why it's so hard to see it coming? Or why it's so hard for a guy to admit to?

When I was talking to my son Andrew after the fight he said "Dad, Oscar has never been beat up bad in his career how could he be so worn out?" Then he said "What about Duran, Foreman and Hopkins, they were much older than Oscar."

To the first question I said Son, take me for example. I have never had a serious injury at work. A few small ones but nothing serious, but after thirty some odd years of bending, pushing, pulling, riveting and just about everything else that it takes to build a plane, my body has taken a beating. The joints hurt, the back hurts and now the knees are starting to hurt. Sometimes it's just an accumulation of wear and tear and time. I can't do a lot of things I once took for granted. Same with a fighter. Over the years, the head blows and body shots take their toll on a fighter. On his will too. They never see it coming until it's too late.

As for Duran, Foreman and Hopkins, who knows why some men can take it into the later years. Why could Duran take it to 50 years of age but Ray Leonard was washed up by his early thirties. Same with Foreman and Ali, and Hopkins and Roy Jones Jr. It is what it is.

Randyman wrote:I was thinking about Manny and Oscar, about how tough it can be to get old. Most of us don't have it shoved in our face so abruptly. Oh, there's no escaping it but most of us don't have to face it in front of millions of people. The thing about getting old and having your last fight is that you don't know you are old and having your last fight until you are smack dab in the middle of it. As unpleasant as it is to watch, it has to be a short visit to hell when it's you. Only in boxing can a thirty five year old man be old. Can there be any doubt why it's so hard to see it coming? Or why it's so hard for a guy to admit to?

When I was talking to my son Andrew after the fight he said "Dad, Oscar has never been beat up bad in his career how could he be so worn out?" Then he said "What about Duran, Foreman and Hopkins, they were much older than Oscar."

To the first question I said Son, take me for example. I have never had a serious injury at work. A few small ones but nothing serious, but after thirty some odd years of bending, pushing, pulling, riveting and just about everything else that it takes to build a plane, my body has taken a beating. The joints hurt, the back hurts and now the knees are starting to hurt. Sometimes it's just an accumulation of wear and tear and time. I can't do a lot of things I once took for granted. Same with a fighter. Over the years, the head blows and body shots take their toll on a fighter. On his will too. They never see it coming until it's too late.

As for Duran, Foreman and Hopkins, who knows why some men can take it into the later years. Why could Duran take it to 50 years of age but Ray Leonard was washed up by his early thirties. Same with Foreman and Ali, and Hopkins and Roy Jones Jr. It is what it is.

You know, Randy, age can't be denied but it can surely be a lot easier to deal with knowing that in you're mid-30's, worth in excess of $1 Billion in real esate and other lucrative investments, you have already established a post-career livelyhood, you have a stunning devoted wife, a young family and the ability to continue on as a true example of the American dream. I have no feelings of sympathy whats so ever for Oscar, however, I do admire and respect the man. You and I, we just get older. However, in all honesty, I still don't feel the age, I just feel good most of the time (There were times when I didn't). However, I guess for most, aging is screwed.

-Rick

Dongee wrote:The Knockout ad that shows Chuey Figueroa entering the ring brings to mind the great promise that this youngster showed in his first 17 bouts, when he remained unbeaten. In a bit of strange matchmaking he faced a seasoned, hard-hitting veteran, Al Citrino, on the latter's ome turf and was sidetracked, losing by knockout after being dropped several times.

Citrino was on a comeback mission, appearing in his 100th fight and he would retire once more after just three more bouts. It seemed to those of us who followed Chuey's progress that he had little to gain from such a pairing.

hap navarro

Thank you, Hap. I have a few questions, but I'll have to post them at another time. I'm thoroughly enjoying your posts, they take me to a place I wish I could have experienced myself. Thru your words, we are taken back to that era, you give it life. This is a true gift.

Take care,

Rick

dagosd2000 wrote:HELLO,GOOD BYE

I've been kicking this around for a while. Prior to the WBHOF Banquet,Rick had posted a couple of times that Gwen Adair wanted to meet me. OK,I never asked why. I knew I had posted something earlier how I thought Gwen looked like a good 'ol gal. A pal. A female who could hang with the guys and still keep her femininity. A gal you could have a good time with as long as you knew your boundaries. I think you get my point.

Well that weekend Dan pointed her out to me. OK,I know I'm with my wife,but that don't mean nothin'. Don't get me wrong. Everything was above board in my mind. (You can always dream though).I saw her as she checked in. I saw her at breakfast. Nothing. I thought really nothing of it. Then after the banquet,we're all sitting in the lounge having a cocktail when Rick brings Gwen over to our table.
"Gwen wants to know who Roger is".says Rick.
I give a little wave.
"Hi Gwen. Would you like to join us?"I posed the question.
"She looked at me with a smile.
"No thanks,I'm with friends."
With that,she turned and walked back to her friends' table.

OK,I'm all right with that.However, I'm still wondering why she wanted to know who I was?

Roger . . . I told Gwen what you had written about her, which was very kind, I thought. Gwen thought so to, and I told her where I knew you from and she said with a big smile, "I've gotta meet this Roger". When I told you, I didn't deliberatly try to make it sound anything more than it was. When I saw her walk into the bar, I went over and asked her to come over to meet our group. I said, Roger is in the group. She was tired, had guests, I don't know why she wasn't more her usual self, all I can say is that she is a woman. I didn't mean to make a big deal over it, wasn't my intention.

-Rick

Rick Farris wrote:

dagosd2000 wrote:HELLO,GOOD BYE

I've been kicking this around for a while. Prior to the WBHOF Banquet,Rick had posted a couple of times that Gwen Adair wanted to meet me. OK,I never asked why. I knew I had posted something earlier how I thought Gwen looked like a good 'ol gal. A pal. A female who could hang with the guys and still keep her femininity. A gal you could have a good time with as long as you knew your boundaries. I think you get my point.

Well that weekend Dan pointed her out to me. OK,I know I'm with my wife,but that don't mean nothin'. Don't get me wrong. Everything was above board in my mind. (You can always dream though).I saw her as she checked in. I saw her at breakfast. Nothing. I thought really nothing of it. Then after the banquet,we're all sitting in the lounge having a cocktail when Rick brings Gwen over to our table.
"Gwen wants to know who Roger is".says Rick.
I give a little wave.
"Hi Gwen. Would you like to join us?"I posed the question.
"She looked at me with a smile.
"No thanks,I'm with friends."
With that,she turned and walked back to her friends' table.

OK,I'm all right with that.However, I'm still wondering why she wanted to know who I was?

Roger . . . I told Gwen what you had written about her, which was very kind, I thought. Gwen thought so to, and I told her where I knew you from and she said with a big smile, "I've gotta meet this Roger". When I told you, I didn't deliberatly try to make it sound anything more than it was. When I saw her walk into the bar, I went over and asked her to come over to meet our group. I said, Roger is in the group. She was tired, had guests, I don't know why she wasn't more her usual self, all I can say is that she is a woman. I didn't mean to make a big deal over it, wasn't my intention.

-Rick

Rick, we don't all have your success with 'de ladies'. It is a big deal to some of us.

kikibalt wrote:
Frank Bruno vs Lucien Rodrigeuz
April 1, 1985
Wembley, London

Rodriguez has gone the full 12 rounds with Larry Holmes but Bruno hit him on the elbow and the Frenchman capitulated in the first round, holding his elbow.
The crowd were not happy.

Randyman wrote:

kikibalt wrote:
Frank Bruno with Slyvester Stallone Look a Like Richard Dennis
January 22, 1985

Bruno looks to be in good shape in this photo. Really lean. I remember him always being in good shape but never this lean. Bruno was a somewhat underrated heavyweight but all things considered he only lost 5 times and for the most part it was to good competition. Good photo. Richard Dennis does look like Stallone.

Randy

I met Frank once, in June 1982, just before the Cooney-Holmes 'live' screening at the Leicester Square Odeon in London. He was sitting in the lobby of the cinema with amateur sensation of the day, Tony Adams. Frank had not long gone pro but was already a 'name' in the trade and very easy-going, a lovely, lovely man.
Adams, amazingly, bombed as a pro.

Frank Bruno vs Gerrie Coetzee
March 4, 1986, Wembley,London

Frank Bruno on his way to a first round knockout of
Gerrie Coetzee at 1 minute 50 seconds of the first round.

Johnny Braxton vs Bobby Dykes
Chicago Stadium,Chicago
January 24, 1951

Kendall Holt now defends his WBO light-welterweight title against fellow American Demetrius Hopkins in Atlantic City this weekend, in one of those strangely losable fights. Hopkins steps up after Colombian puncher Ricardo Torres cried off a few days ago. Holt has proved something of a nemesis to Torres.
The 28-year-old Hopkins, nephew of Bernard, was due to appear on the card in any case and will be in shape. He is unbeaten in 29 outings since turning pro eight years ago and actually fights very much like the old Executioner, picking off his opponents in cute, dangerous, often lazy spurts. Hopkins has been outworked a few times and looked desperately lucky to get the nod over Contender star Steve Forbes in a 12-rounder last year but found a beautiful right hand to finish Michael Warrick in the ninth round of a dreary affair (up to then), sending Warrick face-first to the canvas in 2006. The draw on his record is a technical one back in 2001.
The tall Hopkins has not fought at all this year so far and presumably concedes sharpness to the slick, 27-year-old champion, who has fought twice. Hopkins was said to have 'bottled out' of a showdown with Junior Witter in Nottingham in May (Tim Bradley travelled instead). Still, Hopkins looks to have a chance. Holt, not a huge puncher, can be tagged.


A British title fight on the Darren Barker bill in Brentwood this Saturday pairs Brian Magee and Stevie McGuire for the super-middleweight crown vacated by Nottingham sensation and new WBC super-middleweight kingpin Carl Froch.
Southpaw Magee, who once went 11 rounds with Froch and has been sparring Arthur Abraham over in Germany, is not the most dazzling fighter in the world but strong, steady and skilful - he knows how to get the job done. In 35 fights the Belfast man has lost only to Froch, Robin Reid and Vitali Typsko. He is unbeaten in seven outings, including a 12-round draw with Tony Oakey, since the formidable, heavy handed Froch wore him down at York Hall in May 2006. Magee outboxed Froch in several of the rounds, although Froch broke a hand early.
McGuire is much less proven but the tall, strong-looking Scot looks a good prospect and is unbeaten in 14 outings since turning pro in November 2003 (one draw), including decent decisions over Joe Calzaghe sparmate Nathan King in a 10-rounder (it was close) and slippery Northampton man Paul David in a six-rounder. He's boxed only three times outside of Scotland, though, and was held to that draw in Hartlepool by Blackpool-based Slovakian Richard Turba in one of them (six rounds).
Still, McGuire is unbeaten, hungry, six years the younger man at 27 - he deserves respect, although one ultimately sides with the more experienced Magee.



Manchester's Craig Watson defends his Commonwealth welterweight title against Nottingham's Adnan Amar on a big Dublin bill on December 18 in a battle of rangy, slippery, sharp-boxing types.
Watson, a southpaw from Manchester, won the title with an upset cuts stoppage of Namibia's Ali Nuumbembe a year ago in Wigan. It was a fight he was 'bossing' until Nuumbembe was pulled out in the eighth round. Watson retained with a solid decision over Ricky Hatton's little brother, Matthew, earlier this year in Manchester and looks to be flourishing at 25. He can only get better.
Amar is no mug. He earned his chance by outscoring Telford's Mark Lloyd in a 10-rounder in Nottingham in May for the English welterweight crown and, one of those nightmare switch-hitters, makes it difficult for the best of them. He lacks Watson's strength and pedigree, however, given the champion floored Amir Khan in the amateurs and holds a holds a win as a pro over Michael Lomax, recent surprise winner of welterweight Prizefighter. Amar will take some breaking down but Watson has to be favoured to finish strongly for the points.
Also on the card Nottingham's Jason Booth defends his Commonwealth bantamweight crown against Yorkshire threat Sean Hughes.
Booth won the title with a nine-round stoppage of talented Welshman Matthew Edmonds last December in Wigan and retained with a solid decision over Ghana's Lante Addey in Nottingham in March. After long and equally successful stints at flyweight and super-flyweight, the 31-year-old Booth is tough, clever and massively experienced, as he showed against a 23-year-old Edmonds, who got off to a great start before Booth took over.
Still, the champion has endured more than his fair share of wars down the years and might, just might, be ready for the taking by someone like Hughes, a 26-year-old, smooth-boxing southpaw from Pontefract with good recent form. Last November in Nottingham Hughes pulled off a shock but thoroughly deserved eight-round decision over then British super-bantamweight champion Esham Pickering, which earned him a quick rematch for the title. This time Pickering came good in nine hard-fought rounds but Hughes proved himself over the two fights (and in an earlier fight with Billy Corcoran) and is bound to be competitive. He also enjoys real height and reach on the champion.
Much depends on Booth's freshness. He struggled a little against slippery Welshman Dai Davies in a non-title encounter in June, emerging by one point on the referee's card. While the slick veteran must be favoured, I have a feeling "Short Fuse" Hughes could snatch the famous old belt.
Irish amateur star Darren Sutherland turns pro on the bill in a six-rounder against Georgi Iliev. The 26-year-old Sutherland, who holds four wins over James DeGale, lost to DeGale, crucially, in the Olympic semis earlier this year at middleweight. Still, Darren picked up a coveted medal and looks set for a bright future under Crayford promoter Frank Maloney and starts out with the customary 'Selvin Bell' of an opponent.
The bill is headed by Rendall Munroe's defence of his European super-bantamweight title against Italian Fabrizio "Popeye" Trotta. Munroe is a long way from his native Leicester (and his bin-round) but has the size and strength to outpoint the tough challenger.
Bitter rival Bernard Dunne will be at ringside, no doubt. Team Dunne has taken offence to Munroe invading its 'manor'.

Shane Mosley facing fights, and not just in the ring


Damian Dovarganes / Associated Press
Antonio Margarito, left, will defend his welterweight title against "Sugar" Shane Mosley on January 24.

He has a Jan. 24 bout against Antonio Margarito and is involved in suits having to do with Victor Conte and the BALCO case.
By Lance Pugmire

The gods of symbolism had their moment Tuesday when boxers Antonio Margarito and Shane Mosley were introduced on a small stage as champion and challenger respectively for their Jan. 24 welterweight fight at Staples Center.

Margarito, the so-called "Tijuana Tornado" who hammered previously unbeaten Miguel Cotto in a knockout summer victory, bathed in bright sunlight that made his sunglasses a necessity. Three days after Oscar De La Hoya's lopsided TKO loss to Manny Pacquiao, many expect Margarito to emerge as the most popular active fighter among Latino fans.

Mosley is only a few days removed from the release of grand jury transcripts about Bay Area Laboratory Co-Operative in which he admitted to knowingly using the banned energy-boosting substance EPO, provided by BALCO, in advance of his close 2003 decision victory over De La Hoya.

On Tuesday Mosley sidestepped any questions about his grand jury testimony. "Talk to my attorney," he said.

Mosley, who lost a unanimous decision to Cotto last year before beating Ricardo Mayorga, is being sued by former conditioning coach Derryl Hudson for defamation after saying Hudson convinced him to take BALCO products. The boxer is also suing BALCO founder Victor Conte for defamation, alleging Conte's claims that Mosley knowingly used performance-enhancing drugs were motivated to boost sales of a book about the scandal that included all-time home run leader Barry Bonds and former Olympic champion sprinter Marion Jones.

Bonds faces a federal trial in March for lying to a grand jury about using performance-enhancing drugs as part of a probe into BALCO. Bonds has claimed he was using flaxseed oil provided by Conte.

The grand jury transcripts revealed Mosley was told by Conte that he could identify some BALCO products as flaxseed oil. Mosley told a U.S. Attorney, "I believe it was probably . . . I guess it was something else, yeah."

Mosley's attorney Judd Burstein said Tuesday that his client understood that all of BALCO's products were legal. The situation might leave Mosley as a witness in Bonds' upcoming perjury trial, although Burstein says, "I don't think he'll be called."

Burstein added: "Conte was a good salesman, he had a powerful client in Bonds. . . . Shane is so good-natured and unsuspecting, so trusting."

Conte has filed a motion for Mosley to pay off his legal fees for being sued, and Conte says his legal team is crafting a motion to dismiss Mosley's lawsuit based on the grand jury transcripts.

Pugmire is a Times staff writer.

The Harder They Fall: Sunset's Boxing Journal
By Sunset Thomas
RSR

When Oscar De la Hoya decided not to answer the bell at the start of the 8th Round at the MGM on Saturday night, I actually started to cry. Frankie Gambino (my enigmatic apparition of an associate) on the other hand, literally spit his disgust, “That would have never happened in my day!” he roared.

If you don’t already know, Frankie Gambino fought once—in 1943—in the Golden Age of Boxing (not to be confused with the Golden Boy of Boxing—as he is quick to point out).

Anyways, Frankie was pissed. “Who doesn’t get up and fight?” he ranted. “He still had one good eye and honestly he never looked hurt—maybe his pride but not his body. Why in my day, your corner would toss in the towel and if you could find it and lift it, you’d toss it back…”

I tried to reason. “Frankie,” I said, “Oscar couldn’t hit him. There were only four rounds left and Oscar had nothing left…”

“Nothing left!” Frankie fumed. “If he had anything he left it in his scrapbook! That guy never threw a meaningful punch. He never committed himself to take the punches that little Filipino fellow peppered him with. It’s one thing to get beat, it’s another to lie down and take a whooping. If I’da bet the bum I’d be knocking on his door trying to get my money back!”

There was nothing I could say. Frankie wasn’t buying it. He simply felt that Oscar fought without heart. He thought Manny Pacquiao was a tough, clever fighter—not a ton of power but plenty of zip. And he felt (strongly) that Oscar, like so many fighters before him, had overstayed his welcome in the squared circle…

“Rocky Marciano,” he roared.
“Lennox Lewis,” I added.
“Who names a kid after a hospital,” he cracked.
“Who names a kid after a mineral?” I countered.

The point of our little Tete-e-tete was, of course, that fighters sadly and sometimes tragically don’t get out when they should.

Often times it’s because of poor financial management (obviously not the case with De la Hoya), but more often than not it’s a case of ego—of the warrior not heeding Frank Sinatra’s warning that “…and now the days grow short, I’m in the Autumn of the year…”

Oscar, though he looked okay against Steve Forbes (whom Frankie Gambino called ‘nothing but a so-so sparring partner’), had nothing. No zip. No zig. No zag. Nada! When he didn’t gain anything but a lousy two pounds the day of the fight (while Pac-man packed on nearly seven), you had to feel something was amiss.

Frankie said he knew it was over right then. He asked me if I remembered when Arturo Gatti retired Joey Gamache in Madison Square Garden. How both had weighed-in at the 140 limit but how Gatti came into the ring closer to 160. And how Gatti almost killed the kid.

Frankie said it was unnatural for De la Hoya to gain so little weight and that it proved his body was messed up and the first round proved his heart wasn’t in it—the heart part is what pissed off Frankie the most.

I cried because I think it’s sad when it’s over. Like when the little boy’s dad had to shoot Old Yeller at the end of the movie, or more recently, when I found out my idol Bettie Page had fallen into a coma. See I think it’s sad. Even though you know it’s coming, like a straight right after the Ali-Shuffle and there isn’t a dang thing you can do about it. Even though that T.S. Eliot fella poignantly pontificated about how life doesn’t end with a bang, but a whimper—you just, call it sentimental or just plum stupid, but you just can’t bring yourself to accept the reality…

So I cried.

Unlike Frankie Gambino, however, I wasn’t so sure of the outcome until the Fourth Round. I gave Pac Man the first two—decisively. But when the Third rolled around Oscar finally seemed to loosen up a little and throw his jab. He seemed to have settled down some—finding a rhythm and then came the Fourth!

By this time Frankie was wondering how to spend his winnings. He’d picked Pacquiao (in fact he was so damn cocksure he predicated a 2nd Round K.O.), but me, I was silently hoping that Oscar had a plan—he didn’t.

By the end of the fourth, Oscar was back to being a sluggish and slow, plodding pug, with absolutely no punch! And even though the Fifth Round was perhaps the Golden Boys best, it still wasn’t enough for me to give it to him. In fact, I gave Pac Man each and every round.

After Oscar quit on his stool—and he did quit, I mean he never officially said ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to his corners question about stopping the fight (in fact, they asked if he wanted to go one more—and his taking the 5th sealed his fate).

That’s when Frankie Gambino said, “It’s déjà vu all over again” and the specter of Roberto Duran (a once fearless warrior equally known as the “No Mas Man”) permeated the proceedings…

Yep, it was a sad night. Sad to see the Lion go out like a lamb. “Sadder,” said Frankie, “to have paid fifty-four clams!” (the price of Pay-Per-View)…

Now Pac Man will fight Ricky Hatton and that’ll be a hoot. The Filipino’s and the Brits will turn the MGM into a flag-waving, barn-burner of a battle. However, judging from Hatton’s last two lackadaisical performances and his penchant for hitting every pub on the Strip—instead of Bangers, the Brit may get a taste of Bangus!

Randyman wrote:

dagosd2000 wrote:HELLO,GOOD BYE

I've been kicking this around for a while. Prior to the WBHOF Banquet,Rick had posted a couple of times that Gwen Adair wanted to meet me. OK,I never asked why. I knew I had posted something earlier how I thought Gwen looked like a good 'ol gal. A pal. A female who could hang with the guys and still keep her femininity. A gal you could have a good time with as long as you knew your boundaries. I think you get my point.

Well that weekend Dan pointed her out to me. OK,I know I'm with my wife,but that don't mean nothin'. Don't get me wrong. Everything was above board in my mind. (You can always dream though).I saw her as she checked in. I saw her at breakfast. Nothing. I thought really nothing of it. Then after the banquet,we're all sitting in the lounge having a cocktail when Rick brings Gwen over to our table.
"Gwen wants to know who Roger is".says Rick.
I give a little wave.
"Hi Gwen. Would you like to join us?"I posed the question.
"She looked at me with a smile.
"No thanks,I'm with friends."
With that,she turned and walked back to her friends' table.

OK,I'm all right with that.However, I'm still wondering why she wanted to know who I was?

I recall the moment Rog. I was wondering what that was all about myself. She was friendly enough and she stayed with us for a couple of minutes. I thought it a bit odd that she would ask that and then leave without any explanation. Of course when all else fails we can always just rely on the old stand by "Wimmen"!. I mean who can figure'em. My old man couldn't so who the hell am I to try and figure them out. A strange but very necessary species. Maybe she wants to be painted.

Randy DD

If I can get a decent shot of her,I'll do it.

Rick Farris wrote:

dagosd2000 wrote:HELLO,GOOD BYE

I've been kicking this around for a while. Prior to the WBHOF Banquet,Rick had posted a couple of times that Gwen Adair wanted to meet me. OK,I never asked why. I knew I had posted something earlier how I thought Gwen looked like a good 'ol gal. A pal. A female who could hang with the guys and still keep her femininity. A gal you could have a good time with as long as you knew your boundaries. I think you get my point.

Well that weekend Dan pointed her out to me. OK,I know I'm with my wife,but that don't mean nothin'. Don't get me wrong. Everything was above board in my mind. (You can always dream though).I saw her as she checked in. I saw her at breakfast. Nothing. I thought really nothing of it. Then after the banquet,we're all sitting in the lounge having a cocktail when Rick brings Gwen over to our table.
"Gwen wants to know who Roger is".says Rick.
I give a little wave.
"Hi Gwen. Would you like to join us?"I posed the question.
"She looked at me with a smile.
"No thanks,I'm with friends."
With that,she turned and walked back to her friends' table.

OK,I'm all right with that.However, I'm still wondering why she wanted to know who I was?

Roger . . . I told Gwen what you had written about her, which was very kind, I thought. Gwen thought so to, and I told her where I knew you from and she said with a big smile, "I've gotta meet this Roger". When I told you, I didn't deliberatly try to make it sound anything more than it was. When I saw her walk into the bar, I went over and asked her to come over to meet our group. I said, Roger is in the group. She was tired, had guests, I don't know why she wasn't more her usual self, all I can say is that she is a woman. I didn't mean to make a big deal over it, wasn't my intention.

-Rick

I'm not either,but like Randy alluded to they're a different breed of cat

Filippino friend of mine said he was watching the Filippino station and they said Pretty Boy wants to fight the winner of Manny/Ricky. You guys heard anything?

kikibalt wrote:

Frank Bruno vs Gerrie Coetzee
March 4, 1986, Wembley,London

Frank Bruno on his way to a first round knockout of
Gerrie Coetzee at 1 minute 50 seconds of the first round.

Coetzee came over with limited ambition, trudging around the west end on shopping sprees with his wife in the days leading up to the fight. Still, a big win for Frank.

Some photos of Gwen Adair


Gwen with Joey Olmos


Gwen with Frankie Baltazar


Gwen with her sister, I don't remember her name.

dagosd2000 wrote:

Rick Farris wrote:

dagosd2000 wrote:HELLO,GOOD BYE

I've been kicking this around for a while. Prior to the WBHOF Banquet,Rick had posted a couple of times that Gwen Adair wanted to meet me. OK,I never asked why. I knew I had posted something earlier how I thought Gwen looked like a good 'ol gal. A pal. A female who could hang with the guys and still keep her femininity. A gal you could have a good time with as long as you knew your boundaries. I think you get my point.

Well that weekend Dan pointed her out to me. OK,I know I'm with my wife,but that don't mean nothin'. Don't get me wrong. Everything was above board in my mind. (You can always dream though).I saw her as she checked in. I saw her at breakfast. Nothing. I thought really nothing of it. Then after the banquet,we're all sitting in the lounge having a cocktail when Rick brings Gwen over to our table.
"Gwen wants to know who Roger is".says Rick.
I give a little wave.
"Hi Gwen. Would you like to join us?"I posed the question.
"She looked at me with a smile.
"No thanks,I'm with friends."
With that,she turned and walked back to her friends' table.

OK,I'm all right with that.However, I'm still wondering why she wanted to know who I was?

Roger . . . I told Gwen what you had written about her, which was very kind, I thought. Gwen thought so to, and I told her where I knew you from and she said with a big smile, "I've gotta meet this Roger". When I told you, I didn't deliberatly try to make it sound anything more than it was. When I saw her walk into the bar, I went over and asked her to come over to meet our group. I said, Roger is in the group. She was tired, had guests, I don't know why she wasn't more her usual self, all I can say is that she is a woman. I didn't mean to make a big deal over it, wasn't my intention.

-Rick

I'm not either,but like Randy alluded to they're a different breed of cat

Women are crazy.

dagosd2000 wrote:

Randyman wrote:

dagosd2000 wrote:HELLO,GOOD BYE

I've been kicking this around for a while. Prior to the WBHOF Banquet,Rick had posted a couple of times that Gwen Adair wanted to meet me. OK,I never asked why. I knew I had posted something earlier how I thought Gwen looked like a good 'ol gal. A pal. A female who could hang with the guys and still keep her femininity. A gal you could have a good time with as long as you knew your boundaries. I think you get my point.

Well that weekend Dan pointed her out to me. OK,I know I'm with my wife,but that don't mean nothin'. Don't get me wrong. Everything was above board in my mind. (You can always dream though).I saw her as she checked in. I saw her at breakfast. Nothing. I thought really nothing of it. Then after the banquet,we're all sitting in the lounge having a cocktail when Rick brings Gwen over to our table.
"Gwen wants to know who Roger is".says Rick.
I give a little wave.
"Hi Gwen. Would you like to join us?"I posed the question.
"She looked at me with a smile.
"No thanks,I'm with friends."
With that,she turned and walked back to her friends' table.

OK,I'm all right with that.However, I'm still wondering why she wanted to know who I was?

I recall the moment Rog. I was wondering what that was all about myself. She was friendly enough and she stayed with us for a couple of minutes. I thought it a bit odd that she would ask that and then leave without any explanation. Of course when all else fails we can always just rely on the old stand by "Wimmen"!. I mean who can figure'em. My old man couldn't so who the hell am I to try and figure them out. A strange but very necessary species. Maybe she wants to be painted.

Randy DD

If I can get a decent shot of her,I'll do it.

That's almost a double entendre. Another Freudian slip?

On Alfredo Escobar (the original from the 40s) shown in the above Knockout ad:

It is almost impossible to think of olden days without remembeing this kid, an awkward sort without much ring finesse who was somehow matched against several of the top lightweights of his time in southern Californa. He not only fought them all desperately, violently, but he was asked to take them on multiple times, as his record shows.

One series stands out in my mind, his incredible wars with Fabela Chavez. One of their blood and guts fights at the Legion Stadium ended with Fabelita being carted off to a local hospital for medical observation. That one happened in May of 1947. I still think that his highly spirited wars with Escobar and Bobby Jackson were reasons for Fabela's failure to reach the highest rung in his division ladder.
Alfredo Escobar was the personification of the "club fighter", a give an take guy who competed with the best among his peers.

hap navarro

kikibalt wrote:The Harder They Fall: Sunset's Boxing Journal
By Sunset Thomas
RSR

When Oscar De la Hoya decided not to answer the bell at the start of the 8th Round at the MGM on Saturday night, I actually started to cry. Frankie Gambino (my enigmatic apparition of an associate) on the other hand, literally spit his disgust, “That would have never happened in my day!” he roared.

If you don’t already know, Frankie Gambino fought once—in 1943—in the Golden Age of Boxing (not to be confused with the Golden Boy of Boxing—as he is quick to point out).

Anyways, Frankie was pissed. “Who doesn’t get up and fight?” he ranted. “He still had one good eye and honestly he never looked hurt—maybe his pride but not his body. Why in my day, your corner would toss in the towel and if you could find it and lift it, you’d toss it back…”

I tried to reason. “Frankie,” I said, “Oscar couldn’t hit him. There were only four rounds left and Oscar had nothing left…”

“Nothing left!” Frankie fumed. “If he had anything he left it in his scrapbook! That guy never threw a meaningful punch. He never committed himself to take the punches that little Filipino fellow peppered him with. It’s one thing to get beat, it’s another to lie down and take a whooping. If I’da bet the bum I’d be knocking on his door trying to get my money back!”

There was nothing I could say. Frankie wasn’t buying it. He simply felt that Oscar fought without heart. He thought Manny Pacquiao was a tough, clever fighter—not a ton of power but plenty of zip. And he felt (strongly) that Oscar, like so many fighters before him, had overstayed his welcome in the squared circle…

“Rocky Marciano,” he roared.
“Lennox Lewis,” I added.
“Who names a kid after a hospital,” he cracked.
“Who names a kid after a mineral?” I countered.

The point of our little Tete-e-tete was, of course, that fighters sadly and sometimes tragically don’t get out when they should.

Often times it’s because of poor financial management (obviously not the case with De la Hoya), but more often than not it’s a case of ego—of the warrior not heeding Frank Sinatra’s warning that “…and now the days grow short, I’m in the Autumn of the year…”

Oscar, though he looked okay against Steve Forbes (whom Frankie Gambino called ‘nothing but a so-so sparring partner’), had nothing. No zip. No zig. No zag. Nada! When he didn’t gain anything but a lousy two pounds the day of the fight (while Pac-man packed on nearly seven), you had to feel something was amiss.

Frankie said he knew it was over right then. He asked me if I remembered when Arturo Gatti retired Joey Gamache in Madison Square Garden. How both had weighed-in at the 140 limit but how Gatti came into the ring closer to 160. And how Gatti almost killed the kid.

Frankie said it was unnatural for De la Hoya to gain so little weight and that it proved his body was messed up and the first round proved his heart wasn’t in it—the heart part is what pissed off Frankie the most.

I cried because I think it’s sad when it’s over. Like when the little boy’s dad had to shoot Old Yeller at the end of the movie, or more recently, when I found out my idol Bettie Page had fallen into a coma. See I think it’s sad. Even though you know it’s coming, like a straight right after the Ali-Shuffle and there isn’t a dang thing you can do about it. Even though that T.S. Eliot fella poignantly pontificated about how life doesn’t end with a bang, but a whimper—you just, call it sentimental or just plum stupid, but you just can’t bring yourself to accept the reality…

So I cried.

Unlike Frankie Gambino, however, I wasn’t so sure of the outcome until the Fourth Round. I gave Pac Man the first two—decisively. But when the Third rolled around Oscar finally seemed to loosen up a little and throw his jab. He seemed to have settled down some—finding a rhythm and then came the Fourth!

By this time Frankie was wondering how to spend his winnings. He’d picked Pacquiao (in fact he was so damn cocksure he predicated a 2nd Round K.O.), but me, I was silently hoping that Oscar had a plan—he didn’t.

By the end of the fourth, Oscar was back to being a sluggish and slow, plodding pug, with absolutely no punch! And even though the Fifth Round was perhaps the Golden Boys best, it still wasn’t enough for me to give it to him. In fact, I gave Pac Man each and every round.

After Oscar quit on his stool—and he did quit, I mean he never officially said ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to his corners question about stopping the fight (in fact, they asked if he wanted to go one more—and his taking the 5th sealed his fate).

That’s when Frankie Gambino said, “It’s déjà vu all over again” and the specter of Roberto Duran (a once fearless warrior equally known as the “No Mas Man”) permeated the proceedings…

Yep, it was a sad night. Sad to see the Lion go out like a lamb. “Sadder,” said Frankie, “to have paid fifty-four clams!” (the price of Pay-Per-View)…

Now Pac Man will fight Ricky Hatton and that’ll be a hoot. The Filipino’s and the Brits will turn the MGM into a flag-waving, barn-burner of a battle. However, judging from Hatton’s last two lackadaisical performances and his penchant for hitting every pub on the Strip—instead of Bangers, the Brit may get a taste of Bangus!

The other day I was making fun of Sunset Thomas saying she was parlaying her sex into this boxing gig. But after reading this,she writes pretty damn good. If you didn't know any better you'd think it was some old time sports beat writer who smoked cigars and drank warm whiskey. Maybe Sunset does those things. All I know is that was a pretty damn good story.