BoxRec

dagosd2000 wrote:

kikibalt wrote:
I'm wrapping Roman Ventura's hands in this pic.,
Frankie is facing the camera, Tony back to camera,
on this night Roman fought Andy "The Hawk" Price,
Andy got in the ring first and is moving around as
Roman start getting in the ring, Roman see andy
moving like a pro, and as he had one leg over the
lower rope, he turns around to face me and he tells
me "I don't want to fight tonight after all", I push him
in the ring and he fought and gave Andy a hell of a
fight, losing by a close decision, btw it was the 1964
Jr. G.G. finals

Hey Frank
When I was a kid there were the usual youth sports:Little League and Pop Warner Football. The dads would be out there coaching us up. They were World War II Vets and they treated us kids like grown ups. They taught us to be responsible,be on time,hustle,don't make excuses,and don't whine.

When my kids started to reach that age of playing youth sports,something changed. It was the advent of mothers getting involved. Don't get me wrong,my mother would sell hot dogs in the snack shack when there was a game. But now these "Team Moms" are on the bench with the kids opening their big yaps lecturing the boys on how to behave. When Johnny skins his knee sliding into second base,the "Team Mom" goes running out to the field in a panic to kiss his boo boo. When Johnny sees this,he usually starts to cry. All the time these wimpy dads stand by and watch their wives take over.

I noticed I didn't see your wife taping any of those kids' hands. I hope the roles of men and women haven't changed in the pugilistic sport. By the way, was your wife selling Mexican food,or was it hot dogs and hamburgers?

dagosd2000 wrote:

kikibalt wrote:
I'm wrapping Roman Ventura's hands in this pic.,
Frankie is facing the camera, Tony back to camera,
on this night Roman fought Andy "The Hawk" Price,
Andy got in the ring first and is moving around as
Roman start getting in the ring, Roman see andy
moving like a pro, and as he had one leg over the
lower rope, he turns around to face me and he tells
me "I don't want to fight tonight after all", I push him
in the ring and he fought and gave Andy a hell of a
fight, losing by a close decision, btw it was the 1964
Jr. G.G. finals

Hey Frank
When I was a kid there were the usual youth sports:Little League and Pop Warner Football. The dads would be out there coaching us up. They were World War II Vets and they treated us kids like grown ups. They taught us to be responsible,be on time,hustle,don't make excuses,and don't whine.

When my kids started to reach that age of playing youth sports,something changed. It was the advent of mothers getting involved. Don't get me wrong,my mother would sell hot dogs in the snack shack when there was a game. But now these "Team Moms" are on the bench with the kids opening their big yaps lecturing the boys on how to behave. When Johnny skins his knee sliding into second base,the "Team Mom" goes running out to the field in a panic to kiss his boo boo. When Johnny sees this,he usually starts to cry. All the time these wimpy dads stand by and watch their wives take over.

I noticed I didn't see your wife taping any of those kids' hands. I hope the roles of men and women haven't changed in the pugilistic sport. By the way, was your wife selling Mexican food,or was it hot dogs and hamburgers?

dagosd2000 wrote:Mario was one of those guys that was always popping up in my life when I'd least expect it. The last time i saw him ,he was shining shoes at the old Perico Bar in downtown Tj. The Perico was about a half block off Revolution Street. It was one of the last of the little local bars. The Perico was small and clean. Cement floor,a bar with about 4 or 5 stools. A couple of tables and some chairs.

Mario had suffered a stroke,so they told me,and the old gal who owned the place took him in. Mario 's health wouldn't permit him to fix shoes out of abandoned cars anymore. The stroke took away his voice and slowed his movements,but it didn't darken his disposition. He had another mutt with him, and with his shine box was at ease in the Perico shining shoes. Like I said,he couldn't talk,but he always had a smile on his face and would wave his hands or move his head to make emphasis. Mario always wore a white short sleeve shirt with the pocket. He'd have his pack of "Faros" with him and chained smoked with his dog lying at his feet as he waited for a customer at the bar to want to get his shoes shined.

Then there was Tony the bartender. He would sing behind the bar when the mood struck him. Sometimes he'd ask you to play a certain song on the jukebax,but most of the time Tony wanted to sing alone.Tony always wore his white apron. He had a big round face,trimmed mustache,and black wavy hair. When he sang his big voice would resonate off the cement walls of the Perico. Tony liked to sing the classic songs of the Epocha de Oro of Mexican music. The songs of Pedro Infante and Javier Solis. Tony,I believed,sang better than they did. Tony had the most beautifull voice I'd ever heard. One time I asked him why he didn't sing professionally. Tony thought he didn't sing well enough to sing professionally. He was probably the only person who thought that.

Another fixture was Rosie the 'ol Bar Girl. Rosie had worked there since the Perico opened. The bloom had fallen off Rosie years ago. She only worked in the day now. At night she wouldn't be noticed by the male clientele. They wanted younger girls. But Rosie could still enjoy a laugh and drink hand over fist with the best of them. She still had that gold tooth in front that you could see it when she laughed. Rosie was too old to work anywhere else. She was the only girl working at the Perico.

The old gal didn't want to change anything. Bringing in tourists wasn't for her. She had enough money that her husband had left her after he died. She could pay the bills and pay Tony. Enough locals dropped by to buy their beer and keep the status quo. Once in a while I'd see a tourist stick his head in the door,but after a look,he'd be down the stteet. Strangers would only make everyone feel uncomfortable. And besides Tony didn't sing when strangers were in the bar.

One Sunday,after spending time with my mother in law and the family,I'd decided I'd had enough of the domestic scene and said I was going in town for a drink. I never got much resistence. It was only something like,"Be carefull driving." That Sunday I'd made the rounds at the Hotel Nelson,the Long Bar,and a couple of other places I'll "take the fifth" not to mention ,before I found my way to the Perico. I was in a smart alec mood and when I burst inside,I shouted"Is it al right to say f--k in here?"
Tony was behind the bar wiping a glass. He gave me kind of a half smile. Something was wrong. I looked at the bottom of the wall. There was Mario's shinebox and his dog lying beside it.
"Where's Mario?"
I looked over and saw Rosie sitting alone at the table. That was the first time I saw her sit alone. Tony stopped wiping the glass. He looked up and pointed his finger at the ceiling.
"Mario's dead? Se murio?",I stammered.
"Last night",said Tony. "Mario have leukemia."
"Leukemia?", my voice started to shake.
"Heez famly bury heem . He go to Colima. Mario buried weeth heez wife."
I sat down next to Rosie. We didn't look at each other. I couldn't think of anything appropriate. Just then Tony began to sing. His voice rose. He began to sing "Los Golondrinas". The song of rememberance. Tony's voice carried like I'd never heard before. A couple of old Mexican men stood at the doorway. Tony was singing with his eyes closed. His body swayed and his arms were open. It was too much. I broke down. Then Rosie began cyring. We couldn't restrain ourselves. We didn't want to.

Someone once said the hardest thing to describe is music. All I can say is if Pavarotti would have walked inside the Perico that day hearng Tony singing "Los Golandrinas",he would have cried with us.

elmersalsa wrote:Hey, just for curiosity and knowledge: What is a chicano? A guy born of Mexican parents in the USA or a guy of Mexican parents that lives in Los Angeles?

Is there really some hate between Mexican nationals vs chicanos or Tex-Mexicans like the media tries to portray?

I know it is not the same with New York Ricans vs Puerto Ricans...I was witnessed of those things. Is it the same with Mexicans vs Chicanos?

kikibalt wrote:
Rodolfo getting his hand raised by Jimmy Lennon after retaining his
title on a 10th round stoppage of Antonio Puddu. Don't know the other
two gents in the picture.

kikibalt wrote:

dagosd2000 wrote:Mario was one of those guys that was always popping up in my life when I'd least expect it. The last time i saw him ,he was shining shoes at the old Perico Bar in downtown Tj. The Perico was about a half block off Revolution Street. It was one of the last of the little local bars. The Perico was small and clean. Cement floor,a bar with about 4 or 5 stools. A couple of tables and some chairs.

Mario had suffered a stroke,so they told me,and the old gal who owned the place took him in. Mario 's health wouldn't permit him to fix shoes out of abandoned cars anymore. The stroke took away his voice and slowed his movements,but it didn't darken his disposition. He had another mutt with him, and with his shine box was at ease in the Perico shining shoes. Like I said,he couldn't talk,but he always had a smile on his face and would wave his hands or move his head to make emphasis. Mario always wore a white short sleeve shirt with the pocket. He'd have his pack of "Faros" with him and chained smoked with his dog lying at his feet as he waited for a customer at the bar to want to get his shoes shined.

Then there was Tony the bartender. He would sing behind the bar when the mood struck him. Sometimes he'd ask you to play a certain song on the jukebax,but most of the time Tony wanted to sing alone.Tony always wore his white apron. He had a big round face,trimmed mustache,and black wavy hair. When he sang his big voice would resonate off the cement walls of the Perico. Tony liked to sing the classic songs of the Epocha de Oro of Mexican music. The songs of Pedro Infante and Javier Solis. Tony,I believed,sang better than they did. Tony had the most beautifull voice I'd ever heard. One time I asked him why he didn't sing professionally. Tony thought he didn't sing well enough to sing professionally. He was probably the only person who thought that.

Another fixture was Rosie the 'ol Bar Girl. Rosie had worked there since the Perico opened. The bloom had fallen off Rosie years ago. She only worked in the day now. At night she wouldn't be noticed by the male clientele. They wanted younger girls. But Rosie could still enjoy a laugh and drink hand over fist with the best of them. She still had that gold tooth in front that you could see it when she laughed. Rosie was too old to work anywhere else. She was the only girl working at the Perico.

The old gal didn't want to change anything. Bringing in tourists wasn't for her. She had enough money that her husband had left her after he died. She could pay the bills and pay Tony. Enough locals dropped by to buy their beer and keep the status quo. Once in a while I'd see a tourist stick his head in the door,but after a look,he'd be down the stteet. Strangers would only make everyone feel uncomfortable. And besides Tony didn't sing when strangers were in the bar.

One Sunday,after spending time with my mother in law and the family,I'd decided I'd had enough of the domestic scene and said I was going in town for a drink. I never got much resistence. It was only something like,"Be carefull driving." That Sunday I'd made the rounds at the Hotel Nelson,the Long Bar,and a couple of other places I'll "take the fifth" not to mention ,before I found my way to the Perico. I was in a smart alec mood and when I burst inside,I shouted"Is it al right to say f--k in here?"
Tony was behind the bar wiping a glass. He gave me kind of a half smile. Something was wrong. I looked at the bottom of the wall. There was Mario's shinebox and his dog lying beside it.
"Where's Mario?"
I looked over and saw Rosie sitting alone at the table. That was the first time I saw her sit alone. Tony stopped wiping the glass. He looked up and pointed his finger at the ceiling.
"Mario's dead? Se murio?",I stammered.
"Last night",said Tony. "Mario have leukemia."
"Leukemia?", my voice started to shake.
"Heez famly bury heem . He go to Colima. Mario buried weeth heez wife."
I sat down next to Rosie. We didn't look at each other. I couldn't think of anything appropriate. Just then Tony began to sing. His voice rose. He began to sing "Los Golondrinas". The song of rememberance. Tony's voice carried like I'd never heard before. A couple of old Mexican men stood at the doorway. Tony was singing with his eyes closed. His body swayed and his arms were open. It was too much. I broke down. Then Rosie began cyring. We couldn't restrain ourselves. We didn't want to.

Someone once said the hardest thing to describe is music. All I can say is if Pavarotti would have walked inside the Perico that day hearng Tony singing "Los Golandrinas",he would have cried with us.

diego, too bad about Mario, he seem like a guy I would have like, and that bar, my kind of place, I can just see my self getting my shoes shine and belting down a few cold ones with Tony, Mario and Rosie.

dagosd2000 wrote:

kikibalt wrote:

dagosd2000 wrote:Mario was one of those guys that was always popping up in my life when I'd least expect it. The last time i saw him ,he was shining shoes at the old Perico Bar in downtown Tj. The Perico was about a half block off Revolution Street. It was one of the last of the little local bars. The Perico was small and clean. Cement floor,a bar with about 4 or 5 stools. A couple of tables and some chairs.

Mario had suffered a stroke,so they told me,and the old gal who owned the place took him in. Mario 's health wouldn't permit him to fix shoes out of abandoned cars anymore. The stroke took away his voice and slowed his movements,but it didn't darken his disposition. He had another mutt with him, and with his shine box was at ease in the Perico shining shoes. Like I said,he couldn't talk,but he always had a smile on his face and would wave his hands or move his head to make emphasis. Mario always wore a white short sleeve shirt with the pocket. He'd have his pack of "Faros" with him and chained smoked with his dog lying at his feet as he waited for a customer at the bar to want to get his shoes shined.

Then there was Tony the bartender. He would sing behind the bar when the mood struck him. Sometimes he'd ask you to play a certain song on the jukebax,but most of the time Tony wanted to sing alone.Tony always wore his white apron. He had a big round face,trimmed mustache,and black wavy hair. When he sang his big voice would resonate off the cement walls of the Perico. Tony liked to sing the classic songs of the Epocha de Oro of Mexican music. The songs of Pedro Infante and Javier Solis. Tony,I believed,sang better than they did. Tony had the most beautifull voice I'd ever heard. One time I asked him why he didn't sing professionally. Tony thought he didn't sing well enough to sing professionally. He was probably the only person who thought that.

Another fixture was Rosie the 'ol Bar Girl. Rosie had worked there since the Perico opened. The bloom had fallen off Rosie years ago. She only worked in the day now. At night she wouldn't be noticed by the male clientele. They wanted younger girls. But Rosie could still enjoy a laugh and drink hand over fist with the best of them. She still had that gold tooth in front that you could see it when she laughed. Rosie was too old to work anywhere else. She was the only girl working at the Perico.

The old gal didn't want to change anything. Bringing in tourists wasn't for her. She had enough money that her husband had left her after he died. She could pay the bills and pay Tony. Enough locals dropped by to buy their beer and keep the status quo. Once in a while I'd see a tourist stick his head in the door,but after a look,he'd be down the stteet. Strangers would only make everyone feel uncomfortable. And besides Tony didn't sing when strangers were in the bar.

One Sunday,after spending time with my mother in law and the family,I'd decided I'd had enough of the domestic scene and said I was going in town for a drink. I never got much resistence. It was only something like,"Be carefull driving." That Sunday I'd made the rounds at the Hotel Nelson,the Long Bar,and a couple of other places I'll "take the fifth" not to mention ,before I found my way to the Perico. I was in a smart alec mood and when I burst inside,I shouted"Is it al right to say f--k in here?"
Tony was behind the bar wiping a glass. He gave me kind of a half smile. Something was wrong. I looked at the bottom of the wall. There was Mario's shinebox and his dog lying beside it.
"Where's Mario?"
I looked over and saw Rosie sitting alone at the table. That was the first time I saw her sit alone. Tony stopped wiping the glass. He looked up and pointed his finger at the ceiling.
"Mario's dead? Se murio?",I stammered.
"Last night",said Tony. "Mario have leukemia."
"Leukemia?", my voice started to shake.
"Heez famly bury heem . He go to Colima. Mario buried weeth heez wife."
I sat down next to Rosie. We didn't look at each other. I couldn't think of anything appropriate. Just then Tony began to sing. His voice rose. He began to sing "Los Golondrinas". The song of rememberance. Tony's voice carried like I'd never heard before. A couple of old Mexican men stood at the doorway. Tony was singing with his eyes closed. His body swayed and his arms were open. It was too much. I broke down. Then Rosie began cyring. We couldn't restrain ourselves. We didn't want to.

Someone once said the hardest thing to describe is music. All I can say is if Pavarotti would have walked inside the Perico that day hearng Tony singing "Los Golandrinas",he would have cried with us.

diego, too bad about Mario, he seem like a guy I would have like, and that bar, my kind of place, I can just see my self getting my shoes shine and belting down a few cold ones with Tony, Mario and Rosie.

Frank
On Sunday's they'd turn on the black and white TV and watch Classic Fights of Mexico featuring famous Mexican fighters from yesteryear.

dagosd2000 wrote:

kikibalt wrote:
Rodolfo getting his hand raised by Jimmy Lennon after retaining his
title on a 10th round stoppage of Antonio Puddu. Don't know the other
two gents in the picture.

Frank
The guy on the left was a sportscaster in San Diego named Al Coupee. He did the sports news on Channel 10. He also announced the Charger games on the radio. Went to school with one of his sons. He was from Iowa.

kikibalt wrote:

dagosd2000 wrote:

kikibalt wrote: diego, too bad about Mario, he seem like a guy I would have like, and that bar, my kind of place, I can just see my self getting my shoes shine and belting down a few cold ones with Tony, Mario and Rosie.

Frank
On Sunday's they'd turn on the black and white TV and watch Classic Fights of Mexico featuring famous Mexican fighters from yesteryear.

Can we turn the clock back and go to the bar and see Mario, Rosie and sing a few songs with Tony?.

Expug wrote:

kikibalt wrote:

dagosd2000 wrote: Frank
On Sunday's they'd turn on the black and white TV and watch Classic Fights of Mexico featuring famous Mexican fighters from yesteryear.

Can we turn the clock back and go to the bar and see Mario, Rosie and sing a few songs with Tony?.

If you do , count me in.
I havent had a drink in a decade but if Im gonna start up again , I want it to be with you guys, in that Cantina.

Expug wrote:

kikibalt wrote:

dagosd2000 wrote: Frank
On Sunday's they'd turn on the black and white TV and watch Classic Fights of Mexico featuring famous Mexican fighters from yesteryear.

Can we turn the clock back and go to the bar and see Mario, Rosie and sing a few songs with Tony?.

If you do , count me in.
I havent had a drink in a decade but if Im gonna start up again , I want it to be with you guys, in that Cantina.

dagosd2000 wrote:Hay Frank
Mother's Day is coming up. My Mom passed away 6 years ago,but let me tell you, my wife takes up the slack. As you know, with Mexicans it's a biggy. This might relate to Elmersalsas question also. In Mexico ,Mother's Day is Saturday,the 10th. Here it is celebrated on Sunday,the 11th. In Mexico if the holiday falls on,for instance a Wednesday,they celebrate on Wednesday. In the U.S.,it's always moved to a weekend. Sounds commercial. We'll celebrate Saturday. How about you?

Gatting back to my wife. She practically raised half her nieces and nephews because their mothers were screw ups. Even the husbands of my granddaughters consider my wife their surrogate mother.

What gets me is that these kids cause their mothers nothing but grief 364 days a year,and then on Mother's Day they make a big fuss about her. I used to see this when one of these gang members got shot. All the gang members would show their respects to the dead kid's mother at the funeral. Then the next day they would be doing "drive bys" again.

dagosd2000 wrote:Frank
What's this root beer crap? That red thing you were drinking at the Father/Son Banquet didn't smell like soda pop.

kikibalt wrote:

dagosd2000 wrote:Hay Frank
Mother's Day is coming up. My Mom passed away 6 years ago,but let me tell you, my wife takes up the slack. As you know, with Mexicans it's a biggy. This might relate to Elmersalsas question also. In Mexico ,Mother's Day is Saturday,the 10th. Here it is celebrated on Sunday,the 11th. In Mexico if the holiday falls on,for instance a Wednesday,they celebrate on Wednesday. In the U.S.,it's always moved to a weekend. Sounds commercial. We'll celebrate Saturday. How about you?

Gatting back to my wife. She practically raised half her nieces and nephews because their mothers were screw ups. Even the husbands of my granddaughters consider my wife their surrogate mother.

What gets me is that these kids cause their mothers nothing but grief 364 days a year,and then on Mother's Day they make a big fuss about her. I used to see this when one of these gang members got shot. All the gang members would show their respects to the dead kid's mother at the funeral. Then the next day they would be doing "drive bys" again.

diego,

I lost my mom in 2001, I grew up in a time when you had to show respect to you mom and dad or you got whack in the behind, and believe me my mom knew how to whack, my dad not so... :x

kikibalt wrote:

Expug wrote:

kikibalt wrote: Can we turn the clock back and go to the bar and see Mario, Rosie and sing a few songs with Tony?.

If you do , count me in.
I havent had a drink in a decade but if Im gonna start up again , I want it to be with you guys, in that Cantina.

Pug,

We'll drink root beer, I can't drink much because of my cancer meds, one drink is my limit now, but hell we can sing anyway.

kikibalt wrote:Guys, I been thinking, an I feel that its going to be hard for me to keep posting or be part of this thread or forum, as we work hard to make it a good thread and a good forum too and then see grandybarry come and ruin every thread, and the power that be can't seem to do anything about him.

kikibalt wrote:
Dick Tiger vs Jose Torres

bennie wrote:

kikibalt wrote:Guys, I been thinking, an I feel that its going to be hard for me to keep posting or be part of this thread or forum, as we work hard to make it a good thread and a good forum too and then see grandybarry come and ruin every thread, and the power that be can't seem to do anything about him.

Keep posting, Frankie. You are the rottweiller on here, with all the clout. Orange juice is the little chihuahua, going yap, yap, yap, yap, yap...
Nothing.