BoxRec

Chuck1052 wrote:Have a very Happy Birthday and a Happy Anniversary, Roger!

- Chuck Johnston

Thanks Chuck

Man, Teddy Sanders takes me back. I remember when he was just a losing clubfighter and then he bursts the bubble of Manny Steward's Mickey Goodwin, the only white kid out of Kronk. After that he became a real dangerman. A lot like a Jesse Ferguson who could spring an upset if you took him for granted or did not bring your 'A' game. I just looked up his record to jog the old memory and he was breathing down a lot of top contenders or top prospects necks. He drew with Rocky Mosley and Bernard 'Superbad' Mays and lost split decisions to Robbie Epps and Mike Colbert before the Ramos upset. I don't know the end of the story with him either. Top of his game and he's gone. What went on?

scartissue wrote:Man, Teddy Sanders takes me back. I remember when he was just a losing clubfighter and then he bursts the bubble of Manny Steward's Mickey Goodwin, the only white kid out of Kronk. After that he became a real dangerman. A lot like a Jesse Ferguson who could spring an upset if you took him for granted or did not bring your 'A' game. I just looked up his record to jog the old memory and he was breathing down a lot of top contenders or top prospects necks. He drew with Rocky Mosley and Bernard 'Superbad' Mays and lost split decisions to Robbie Epps and Mike Colbert before the Ramos upset. I don't know the end of the story with him either. Top of his game and he's gone. What went on?

Dan,I heard from someone that he had a falling out with the promoter for the Ramos rematch,but like you say his career stalled after that.I see where he had one more fight 6 months later against a fighter that had only lost once and KO'd him. I've got a call in to James Kinchen next week. Maybe he knows.Getting back to what I had to say about all the nefarious people that move around the world of boxing-who knows what was on the level? I remember he beat Garcia pretty easily in San Diego.There isn't a fighter out there that is going to confess that he took a dive or was involved in a crooked fight. Sometimes they don't even know.Carmen Basilio never trusted his managers Johnny DeJohn and Al Nitro. They were tied in to that Carbo group. They had no qualms about throwing Carmen under the bus(like Saxton in Chicago). Like my father said,the Mob had Bob Satterfield in their hip pocket.He could have gone all the way to the top,but he knew there was no chance for that.So sometimes the Wiseguya would let him go and he'd look like a world beater.Then when he had the odds behind him,he'd go in the tank so the Wiseguys could make money on the fight.Getting back to Ted Sanders-it makes me want to think about what I just said.


http://imgur.com/lFboIwZ

Blinky Palermo

You guys have already given me more info on Sanders than is available anywhere else on the net. Thanks again!

I always suspected the reason Sanders walked away from a career best payday and a nationally televised fight against Ramos on NBC Sportsworld was that someone insisted he "do the honors". It just didn't make any sense. Even if he lost, it was still a springboard to more fights and a nice check as well. Ramos' insistence that Sanders saw how "chiseled" he was at the weigh-in and bolted made no sense.

The Way I Remembered It

Before there were all these 24 hour sports channels on the TV and the radio,before all the blog spots and websites,if you wanted to get information about your favorite team or player,you might get a glimpse on your local TV channel in the last five minutes of the broadcast.For a more of an array of information,you read the papers.The news regarding the sport of boxing was almost totally relegated to the newspapers. Unless it was a fight involving Cassius Clay(or in San Diego's case,Archie Moore)the San Diego Union Tribune would provide information on an upcoming card at the Coliseum or in the Southland.If there was a big fight in Tijuana it would get some print,usually on the back page below the fold. It seemed I was always down in Tijuana sampling the diversions that were taboo on the U.S. side.The drinking age was 18.You could go to any drugstore and buy for change a variety of uppers and downers they would have in candy jars on the counter next to the cashregister.You could go to the old Caliente Racetrack and bet on the ponies and the dogs all year round. The Jai Alai Palace, located on Revolution Street, was another venue were the suckers lost their money.The bars and cantinas never closed.Joints like the Blue Fox,the Jockey Club,the Boom Boom,the Chicago Club,and the Brooklyn and Manhattan Bars offered a look teenage kids in Des Moines could only read about in something written by Norman Mailer,and that was made up bulls--t.There were plenty of girls and music.The food was great and cheap.Tijuana was a whirlwind of neon lights highlighting a repressed libido.If you wanted a porn movie there was a place to go.If you didn't know where to go, there was always a friendly cab driver standing on the corner ,and for a small fee,would take you down the Yellow Brick Road.By the way, the boxing matches were sensational.

I'd usually find out who was fighting at the bullring,the Auditorium,or the Arena 72 by reading the fight posters that were nailed on every lamp post in the city.That's how I found out about World Featherweight Champion Vicente Saldivar putting his title on the line against the Japanese Kuniaka Shibata. There was a period when there was a rivalry between Japanese and Mexican fighters. Japanese and Mexicans are on the opposite ends of the spectrum on everything.I don't think the Japanese had that much of a beef with Mexicans as Mexicans thought that the Japanese were from another planet.

The promoters were putting the two in the Auditorium located out on the Boulevard.That surprised me a little because Saldivar was the most significant fighter in Mexico at that time. Napoles and Olivares were on the rise with their new crowns,but Saldivar was well proven. His victims included Sugar Ramos,Jose Legra,Howard Winstone(3 times),Johnny Famechon,Raul Rojas,Ismael Laguna,and the Japanese feather,Misunori Seki(twice).The only guy I recognized in Shibata's record book was Dwight Hawkins who had gone to Japan to KO Kuniaka San.Maybe that's why they booked it in the Auditorium instead of the bullring.Maybe that's why I had second thought of not going. I didn't want to see a quickie knockout,but I thought I'd never have the opportunity again. However,the boxing world was rocked that night and I saw the earthquake.

The auditorium was sold out.Aside from who was working in Shibata's corner there wasn't a soul in the house that thought Shibata would be sipping his rice through a straw after his night was over. Saldivar was so strong. A compact solid rock.He would get stronger as the fight wore on.He wasn't fancy. He plodded forward,opponents punches bouncing off his armor like a tank. When he sensed that futility of the guy facing him,he'd break him down. He did that with Sugar Ramos.Same result against Raul Rojas.Kuniaka Shibata?Saldivar would make the Rising Sun sink into the sea.

But if there was a tendency with Saldivar,it was that he was a slow starter. A lot of Mexicans took a little time to get into the fight. (Jose Napoles was a Cuban trained Cuban and started fast).But guys like Olivares,Salvador Sanchez,and Julio Cesar Chavez would have to taste a little leather to wake them up.Shibata's team's strategy was to get their guy right on top of Vicente from the opening bell. Shibata had Saldivar backed up before the bell's echo waned away.It caught everyone off guard ,especially Saldivar. He looked unnerved.Shibata,like all Japanese fighters, was in top shape. He'd trained for 15. It didn't look like Saildivar had sacrificed like his opponent. As uncomfortable as it was to watch(if you were pulling for Saldivar)to see Shibata on the attack like a whirling dervish,we all just knew it would be a matter of time when Shibata would wear himself out hitting Vicente.Saldivar would do his Rock of Gibraltar and then beat down his spunky foe with his granite punches. It would be the usual script. But as the fight wound through the middle rounds,it was becoming apparent that shibata didn't want to take the direction.I could see Saldivar's arms separating from his sides.He flailed his punches. He was fighting in flurries. When he flurried the crowd reacted,but the sounds emanated from desperation.Shibata kept coming. Saldivar kept backing up.Shibata kept winging at full throttle. Saldivar's face started coming apart.Saldivar was no longer the Rock of Gibraltar. Shibata had turned him into a sand dune.Vicente's corner wouldn't send him out there for the 12th round.The crowd was stunned. There were no violent demonstrations.No chairs or bottles or human beings were thrown into the ring. Instead of the typical incoming of money being tossed into the ring,the canvas only showed Saldivar's blood.

The judges had the fight even up to that point.Saldivar didn't have anything left to fulfil that dream. He said in the first round he caught a punch in the throat and couldn't breathe right.He fought Frankie Crawford after that fight, took a two year layoff,and then without a tuneup fight,Eder jofre made short work of him in a title fight. Vicente Saldivar died at the age of 42.

I'm writing this because I finally saw the replay the other night on Youtube. It's the way I remembered it.Something I'll never forget as long as I live.

http://imgur.com/6Q6WUGD

Vicente Saldivar

Am always talking about the food in TJ. Well,here's a couple of fish tacos I had at Tito's Mariscos in TJ,Calle O'campo. I'm a little tight right now.They threw me a surprise birthday party. Everyone was there. Family is everything.My granddaughter's new baby ,who was born prematurely, will be going home hopefully next week. That little girl(they named her Jade) has got to be tough.She's been in that incubator for a month. When she goes home with her mom,we'll all go to Tito's. Somehow I think God is piloting the aircraft.

http://imgur.com/7LkyZ30
2 Fish tacos .Thick filetes de Talapia and a coke.Price: 2 dollars and 50 cents.The fish were swimming in the ocean the day before.


http://imgur.com/ihPa8hd


Tito's Mariscos.Nothing fancy on the outside. Best seafood in town.



http://imgur.com/rmPvGhV

Best regards

Damn, Rog, those tacos could choke a horse. All for $2.50? Wow! Hope you had a nice Easter, dude.

scartissue wrote:Damn, Rog, those tacos could choke a horse. All for $2.50? Wow! Hope you had a nice Easter, dude.

Thanks Dan.Hope you had a nice Easter too.Those tacos are so big they have to put 2 corn tortillas under them. You can't pick them up with your hands because they're so big that everything falls out of the tortillas if you try to pick them up. San Diego is a nice place to live,but you'd think that it being a tourist city located on the ocean,there'd be some great seafood restaurants.You have to go to spots located near the border to find good seafood restaurants.They're all Mexican joints and the tourists don't go there. A big tourist Mecca in San Diego is called Old Town. They've given it a Spanish look,but the eateries are high priced with tasteless Mexican food and wafer thin tortillas and salsa that tastes like Campbell's Soup. But that's where the tourists congregate. They can go back to Bumf--k,Idaho and tell everyone they had some "real" tacos and a margarita.A big gimmick that these restaurants use is to have some heavyset Mexican woman dressed like India Maria stand out front making tortillas over a lena(a wood burning stove).When the help gets off, they go home and eat the food from recipes that have been handed down through their families for generations.



http://imgur.com/pMO48qj

La India Maria

Putting on a feed.My wife and sister in law eating carne asada tacos in the bosque.Jiquilpan,Mexico


http://imgur.com/DS5kqxT





http://imgur.com/gKiyeSV

Bistek empanizado with assorted beverages

http://imgur.com/bqovGf6

Mulas and a bowl of menudo.Tototlan,Michoacan

http://imgur.com/6TTmXZl

Maria's homemade flautas
http://imgur.com/eaiF1e5

Maria in the kitchen with her chiles
http://imgur.com/zFJBewn

Rodolfo Gonzalez looking forward to eating my wife's camarones rancheros

http://imgur.com/geXT9e2

Danny "Little Red " Lopez taking time out to pose with my wife,Maria. One of the nicest guys on the planet.

The Stairway To Heaven

Traffic was unusually light.i found a place to park on the street right next to the gate.It was a spur of the moment thing. I hadn't been to the CREA Boxing Gym in years. The last time was several years ago,but it was closed. It was sunny outside.I saw the security guard walk towards my car.He was a short little guy.His skin was wrinkled and bronze colored.His uniform was frayed and had lost a lot of its color and was too big for him.He was wearing dark glasses.
"Hola amigo,"I said as he approached."Is the boxing gym open today?"
"I don't think so,"he answered looking up at the sun.
"Well,what time do the fighters get here?The last time I was here I was early."
"Oh, they come in the afternoon.But I don't know if the gym is open."
I looked at my watch.It was 2 thirty.
"Well,I'll take a chance and go inside.Maybe they will show up today.Can I enter here?"I asked pointing at the gate.
"Of course. Walk inside."
I walked through the gate and looked around for the boxing gym.It had always been under the bleachers. The CREA is the state sports facility for Tijuana.When I used to coach American football at that private school,CETYs,I booked a game there with one of the other local teams that played American football.When we arrived at the field that Saturday,there was a soccer game going on.I got upset. I went down to the field and asked what was going on.We had scheduled the field.The soccer players said that they offered a bribe to the director(the guy I had talked with),paid him the mordida,and we got aced out.

As I made my way to the bleachers,I was startled to see how decrepit the CREA had gotten. The grass on the soccer field had turned to seed and was dirt. the goalpost nets were askew at both ends of the field.A couple of people were slowly jogging around the dirt track.On the asphalt basketball courts there was a game of 3 on 3 going on. There were no nets on the rims.I saw a teenage kid leaning on the fence listening to his headphones.
"Amigo,is the boxing gym still under the bleachers?" I asked him.
I startled him a little. He took off the headphones.
"I think it is there,"he answered with a strange look on his face.
"Thanks amigo,"I said to him as I walked away.

I circled the bleachers to find my way to the gym that was located in the back underneath the stadium.A few people were sitting by themselves in the bleachers.The cement needed a power wash.A lot of litter was strewn around everywhere.It was very sunny and warm as I saw the gym. The glass doors were very dirty. Some workmen were unloading plastic chairs from a truck. The chairs looked used. One of the workmen opened the door to the gym.
"Amigo,is the gym open?"I asked the workman.
He stopped what he was doing.
"No, we are here to bring in these chairs,"he said.
"Do you mind if I look inside?"
"Go ahead,"he said as he continued walking with a chair in each hand.

The first thing I noticed was that the two rings were not there just as you walked through the door.It looked like they had been extracted very crudely. Angle iron and old moldy split punching bags were piled in a corner. In another corner busted chairs were stacked on top of each other.Dust covered everything.A door was ajar. I looked inside.Old bottles of detergents and used rags were scattered on the floor. A moldy drop sink had a dark mop caked with dried mud inside in the bowl.I thought that maybe they had moved the gym somewhere else when a lanky kid walked in.His hands were wrapped.He had on a scuffed up pair of boxing shoes.
"Amigo,"I said."Is the gym open today?"
The kid flashed a friendly smile.He looked clean cut with fair features and full head of hair.
"Oh yes.The fighters will be arriving shortly."
"There used to be a couple of rings here,"I said."Where have they gone?"
"You have to go up the stairs,"he answered pointing to a flight of stairs that were behind me.
"Can I go up?"I asked him
"Of course,"
The kid extended his hand and we shook hands firmly.
"I will be up there when my trainer arrives,"he said.

I walked up the stairs and the gym opened up . To the right was an array of punching bags. On a shelf on a wall to my left were piles of boxing gloves,cups,and headgears.All the bags and gear looked like they had seen better days. The two boxing rings had a film of dirt on the rubber mats . The ropes needed to be rewrapped in places. Old metal spittoons were in each corner of the rings. I was soaking everything in when I heard a slight cough. I turned around and saw a young Mexican girl at the top of the stairs.She looked to be in her young teens. She had an Indian face with her hair pulled back into a pony tail.She wore no makeup.She had on a pair of dark pants and a dark shirt.The clothes appeared like they might have been handed down.She had a writing pad in her hand.She didn't look at me.
"Hola,"I said."Are you a boxeadora?"
She broke a little smile and then closed her mouth. I could see that her front tooth was chipped.
"No,"she answered still looking away from me.
She was very shy.I thought she was pretty.
"You just like to watch the fighters train?"I said trying to perk her up.
"No,I stand at the door and count the number of people who come in and take their names."
Just then the kid that I had talked to came to the top of the stairs.
"Petra,"he said to the girl."The chamacos are arriving.El Maestro will be here shortly.You need to stand at the door.'
The girl immediately turned and walked down the stairs.
I saw one of those old plastic chairs that you see at one of those Mexican restaurants that you sit outside under the palapa. "Coca Cola' was painted in white on the back of the red chair. Within a few minutes the gym began filling up,mostly younger kids. Half wore boxing shoes,the rest had on running shoes. All of them had their hands wrapped. As I was sitting by myself, I saw the friendhip amongst the kids that were walking in. You could tell they all knew each other. They gave each other high 5's.The gym was getting pretty crowded.About a half a dozen girls came in.Their hands were wrapped. They grouped up in the corner together. Some of the kids were making their way to where I was sitting.As they crowded next to me they gave me high 5's.I asked one of them when their trainer would arrive.
"He'll be here shortly."
As the kid answered my question ,I saw an old guy reach the top of the stairs. Everyone stopped what they were doing and went over to him.That had to be the trainer. They all gave him a good abrazo.He acted very happy.He seemed very gentlemanly and dignified,but as he worked his way through the crowd you could see that he had an air of approachability and humor.His body was in pretty good shape showing little fat around his middle,the usual gray hair was there.He wore glasses. He had on a white T shirt and brown trousers. He wore a rubber back brace. Immediately he blew a whistle and the kids began warming up in front of the mirror. I was looking around trying to take it all in as a flood of people walked inside the gym.I noticed one of the older kids, who was wearing a headgear ,put his arm on the trainer's shoulder as he was working the gloves on one his charges.
"Romulo,who am I going to spar with?"
I was taken aback. I looked intently at the man who was in charge . I knew him.I got up from the chair and walked closer to where he was. He was very busy. I saw a heavyset young man walk up to him.
"Papa,you want the boys to begin hitting the bags?"
I decided to ask this guy about his father.
"Excuse me,"I said."Is your father Romulo Quirarte?"
"Yes,he is,"he answered.
"I know your father."
The young man became excited.
"Papa,this man says he knows you,"he said as He put his arm on my shoulder.His father looked over quickly,but he was in the process of setting the plastic bottles of water on a table so he could water the fighters down.
"You know my father?"continued the young man. He was portly and didn't look like his father.
"I used to coach American football at CETYs. I was introduced to your father through one of my players,Sergio Rhoades."
"My father is one of the most important people in Mexican boxing."
"At the time he was handling "Jibaro" Perez.We used to watch him train here at the CREA."
"Papa ,"shouted the young man at his father."Ven,this man knows you."
Romulo Quirarte briskly came over. You could tell he was preoccupied.I extended my hand. He grasped it. He studied my face and then smiled.
"I remember you. You were the coach at CETYs. You used to come with Sergio Rhoades,my compadre,to watch 'Jibaro' train."
"'Jibaro' was married to your daughter,"I said.
Romulo lost his smile and waved his finger at me.
"Used to be married to my daughter.No more.No more senor."
I remembered when the trouble began with 'Jibaro' and Romulo's daughter. I told it once before. I don't want to repeat it. You can make the analogy with a lot of young fighters who couldn't deal with the fast success of being a champion.
"You still up here working with the fighters I see."
"Now it is more important if they come to the gym instead of getting in trouble in the streets."
"You handled a lot of good fighters,"I said.
"Yes,every great Mexican fighter who fought in Tijuana I trained. Now, that is not my priority. Besides,the best Mexican fighters don't fight in Tijuana anymore."
"Any good prospects in here?"I asked.
"See that kid with the red trunks. He is my grandson.He's a dentist."
"He is the son of your daughter?"
"Yes he is. I need to get back to what I am doing.Please excuse me. We can get together when it is finished."
It wasn't my play to impose myself on him. I saw some little girls run into the gym. They began hugging Romulo.I heard one of then call him "abuelito."He smiled, but had no time at that moment to indulge them. I watched for an hour or so,then decided to leave. Before I left I want up to Romulo's grandson.
"Excuse me ,"I said. "But I knew your father. I watched him fight."
The grandson was kind of chubby with a pie face. He didn't resemble his father.
"You mind if I take your picture?"
The grandson slowly put up his fists and smiled.
"Your first name?"I asked.
"Raul."
"Just like your father.I am a dentist."
I thanked him and walked down the stairs. The girl who I had talked to earlier was at the door. I looked at her as I passed by. She didn't look at me. When I got to my car,I saw the security guard again.
"The gym was open ,"I said.
"Was Quirarte there?"he asked.
"Yes."
The security guard seemed like he was searching for something to say.
"He is a very good man. He works for the kids. Everyone respects him."
"I could see that," I said.
I started my car and began to make my way to the border.I recalled seeing Julio Cesar Chavez at the CREA. Romulo was his first trainer when Chavez came up from Sinaloa."Dinamita" Estrada was a local talent and champion who was taught the skills by Quirarte.Jose Luis Castillo and "Maramero" Paez were tutored.Now, it's more important for Romulo Quirarte to see kids not ruin their lives. That was Archie Moore's mission at his Any Boy Can Gym in Southeast San Diego. I forgot to ask Romulo if he knew Archie Moore.How stupid of me,but I didn't have time.Maybe when I return. That will be sooner than I think.











Raul Perez Jr. Son of a champion. He's also a dentist.




Romulo Quirarte

It's Official

It's official. They're going to tear down the old San Diego Coliseum. That's where they had all the boxing matches.There hasn't been a fight there in years unless you want to count all the fights the bums have had outside on the street laying claim over a bottle of cheap wine.The real estate sharpies have in mind erecting the usual,a condominium on the site. Like I said, it hasn't been a boxing arena in,I'm guessing, 30 years.Filled to capacity the old arena could sit around 15 hundred bodies. There were wood seats on the floor level. Horsehoed around the back walls were bleachers. A small snack bar counter was at the east end. I remember they had a big picture of Andre the Giant hanging on the wall in back of the counter .The locker rooms down the ramp. Moldy shower heads and leaky pipes made the floors always wet.. Jerry Navarra who owns the property converted the building into one of his furniture stores.Business did pretty well for a time,but as the homeless population smothered the area,the customers traveled to one of Jerry's other stores located in those fancy malls outside the city.Navarra then used the building to store furniture that would eventually be displayed in his other stores.And then that went sour. Navarra's dad put the building to use as primarily a boxing arena. However,as with the stucco on the walls,the area around 14th and F streets was growing long in the tooth.The San Diego Coliseum went the way that most of the old boxing arenas in the country went,the rings were dismantled and the lights went out.A boxing arena is hard to function as anything else except a place to stage fights. Oh,those arenas easily doubled as venues for the wrestlers,and there was plenty of grappling that went on there.

I can try to list all the fighters who traded leather at The Coliseum,but I'll just mention my favorite guys. Ronnie Wilson and Denny Moyer, who were with Sid Flaherty and Danny Rodriguez ,I always wanted to win. David Love,who I could never figure out,fought a lot at the Coliseum. He was a local guy. Went to Kearny High School. He was a little cocky,but he beat some pretty good fighters in his day.Philly boys like Willie Monroe,Bennie Briscoe,and Bobby Watts came out on the short end with David. The last I heard he's still in town. Likes to play golf at the municipal course in Chula Vista. Of course Kenny Norton made his debut at the Coliseum. Burke Emery handled a lot of the fighters.Ernie Fuentes was well known working with the pugs.Doyle Milssap worked in a lot of corners.Danny and his sons owned a flower shop in the North Park area. He was also quite a softball pitcher and would play with only 3 fielders behind him.I never saw his team lose a game.

Some fighters that headquartered their careers here didn't fight at The Coliseum.Terry Norris and James Kinchen never laced them up inside the old arena. After Archie Moore won the title from Joey Maxim,he never fought again in San Diego, let alone the San Diego Coliseum. Moore fought Howard King though in Tijuana at the old downtown bullring.

There were a ton of other guys,but either they were before my time or I just missed them.I could go on doing the name dropping,but I'll call it quits. The last time I stopped by the the old structure was a few years ago. It was just before they had to put up the chain link fence around the building.The graffiti and the break ins were getting out of hand. I think the last tenant was an auto paint business. I remember walking inside the bowels of the place.It was dimly lit inside and reeked of spray paint.The smell made me dizzy.I could see the old beams that supported the bleachers.The dry rot and termites were eroding away the supports.Dust and scraps of paper were all over the floor and walls were spackled with dots of paint.The iron pipes dripped water on the floor. Two guys with painters masks were methodically spraying a couple of cars.A guy wearing glasses was sitting at an old nicked up wooden desk.He looked like he was doing some paper work. He finally looked up at me as I got a few feet in front of him. He peered at me over his glasses.
"What can I do for ya'?"he said.He acted like I was interfering with what he was doing.
"Oh,I used to come to this place when it was a boxing arena."
He stared at me as his mouth turned down.
"I saw a lot of fighters here,"I went on trying to get a response and maybe make an impression.
"So I heard,"he finally replied.
"I used to spar with some of the boys."
The guy put his pencil down.
"You want a car painted?"
"No,I just came down here to stir some memories."
The guy picked up the pencil again and continued with his figuring.I looked at him there with his pasty sweaty face and realize that all this meant nothing to him. It meant nothing to him.It meant nothing to all the bums and winos and heroin addicts that slept outside on the sidewalk.The only people who cared were Jerry Navarra who made a buck selling it to the developers who were going to tear everything down and put up a condominium. It was time to call it quits. It was time for me to leave and never look back. It was official.




The ticket window



The sign tells it all




Once a week the city trucks come in and spray disinfectant on the sidewalk




Time to tear it all down

If You Can't Take The Heat,Try Saying A Little Prayer

James "The Heat "Kinchen was one of the many fighters that I used to take my son and his buddies ,who were on the football team that I was coaching, to watch the boxing matches.This was around 30 years ago. Bobby DeFilippis would put on cards at the Palisades Roller Skate Rink in North Park. Before I get to talking about James Kinchen,I want to say that Bobby D also ran the Butcher Shop Restaurant in the Hotel Circle area of Mission Valley.His joint was part of one of the swank hotels that I can't recall the name of right now. Anyway, the waitresses at the Butcher Shop were tall leggy showgirl types that didn't exactly seem like they ever took corn beef and hash orders at Denny's. They wore outfits that were the minimum of a mini skirt that didn't cover their gorgeous round posteriors.Somewhere in there was a thong buried between a rump roast that I'm guessing was on their menu for the right price.Bobby D would have the girls sitting together at ringside on fight night(wearing their rump roast outfits) and have them slowly straddle through the ropes and then stride around the ring with the round cards.One night I'm there at the Palisades with my son watching the fights sitting behind the honeybun sisters.I got to take a leak and get up to go to the bathroom.When I come back to my seat,my son tells me that one of the girls gave him her phone number and wants to hook(er) up with him later. Now my son was 14 at the time. I really got pissed off. How come miss buns of fun gives her number to my son and not me? I told my son the right thing to do was to give dad the phone number from that "bad" lady.I think I still got it somewhere in my drawer.I'm not going to say I ever gave her a call because I think it says something in the 5th Amendment that I don't have to testify against myself or I might get incinerated.Back to James Kinchen.

I saw Kinchen fight at the Palisades and at the El Cortez Hotel. He got robbed against Hearns. That was a big fight of interest in San Diego. Kinchen trained very hard at Joe Sayatovich's facilty in Campo located in the foothills in East County.I was driving a big spray rig for the County of San Diego during that time and would schedule my work out in that area.I'd see him running wearing those red sweats up Sunrise Highway. That circuit had to be 20 miles,and it was at altitude! I'd drive by and give him a honk on the horn and the thumbs up.One day I wasn't paying attention to the road and almost smacked the rig into a herd of deer that were running across the road.Yeah,James got robbed. Now don't argue with me about that if you think differently. I'll stick to my guns on that. He also got the bad call with James Shuler. Shuler gets the title shot with Hagler,and it should have been Kinchen in the ring. He might not have beat the great Marvelous,but I'm sure he could have gone more than the single frame that Shuler accomplished.I'll also throw in the Barkley fight. He got stiffed again. He was too far away from home. He wasn't connected with the right people.After that he was in some real peculiar fights. I saw him last Sunday at the Helping Hand of God Church. I didn't bring any of that up. He's a minister now.

He knew I was coming out to see him. I had talked with his head pastor. The Helping Hand is located way out there on Imperial Boulevard in the community of Encanto.Encanto means "enchantment" in Mexican.I think there's something star crossed between James Kinchen and what he's devoted his life to today. I was anxious to surprise him with a portrait I painted of him when he was in the ring. I also brought some old clothes that me and the wife would normally take down to Tijuana.

There's a slew of little ministries in Southeast San Diego. They are store front churches.The Helping Hand of God building is old looks like it's been repainted scores of times. The histories of those churches range from former little markets,eateries,second hand clothing stores,and rowdy juke joints.I can't remember what the Helping Hand was. Whatever it was it's being put to a righteous purpose now. Located on the corner of 64th and Imperial,it has a solemn look, unpretentious,and a softness. I saw some men wearing old pinstriped suits walk in and took my queue.I followed them inside with the painting and about a half dozen shirts on hangers.

Inside the church was very plain and simple.Around a dozen pews faced a podium. I saw some young fellas' setting up music stands and their instruments.They were connecting the sound system. The day was sunny and the rays filled up the room with light.I sat in the back pew.One of the young men wearing a hoodie walked to the back where I was sitting. He instantly saw the painting.
"Hey,that's my dad,"he said excitingly.
"It's for him,"I said."So what's your name?"
"Brandon.I'm here with my family every Sunday. Did you watch my dad fight?"
"I used to take my son to your dad's fights. About six months ago I took my grandson to the 5 Points Sheraton to see the fights. Your dad was there ."

I saw the head pastor who I had talked to.He gave me a big smile and a friendly wave. He was wearing a handsome dark blue suit. I was wearing a jogging outfit. James Kinchen emerged from behind a partition and saw me talking with his son.He had a jump in his step.He was wearing a suit that was a little big for him. The last time I saw him at the 5 Points he was heavier.He looked good.Still had the fu man chu.He grasped my hand and looked at my face with intensiveness.
"Roger.Pastor Wayne said you'd be here today.i'm so glad you could make it.i see you've met my son."
"I told him you were quite a fighter. You put a hurt on people."
"He still can,"interjected his son
"Are you going to atay for our servive?"asked James.
"Of course."
"We'll talk after it's over. It'll get a little noisy in here."
"I was brought up Catholic.I could use some levity."I chuckled.
James grinned.
"I did a painting of you,"I said."Painting is something I enjoy."
James looked down at the painting that I had set on the pew.I could see he was moved.
"No one ever did a painting of me before. This is awesome."
James picked up the painting and looked at it from different angles.
"I'm going to put this in the office now,"he said.
"Brother Roger, please excuse me now .I will get back with you.Please feel at home."
James went to the podium and was setting things up. I sat in the back. The ladies came in talking loudly ,wearing bright dresses and their heads topped off with big hats.There were old people,teens,kids running around,everyone was black but I expected that.The older women's hair was straightened.The girls' hair was braided and beaded with colors. I didn't get any strange looks.Everyone seemed to know each other.A lot of big hugs were exchanged.I'd say the church was about half full. I sat in the back taking everything in. I felt warm and comfortable.I knew it would be that way.

Pastor Wayne started things off with a benediction. One of James's daughters led a sermon.Then Brandon's band started playing.James grabbed the microphone and began singing.The bass strided,the horns,guitar and electric piano fell in and knew I wasn't in Saint Peters. James carried on with something like 30 chruses of something like"Jesus Is the Man" and I was hoping it wouldn't end. Everyone got up and was dancing with the spirit.Tears were rollin' down my face as I rose and gave it my white guy's wiggle. The stars were crossed. The Lord was inside me.To reject that feeling would have been blasphemous.

Pastor Wayne invited the little kids up front and asked them questions from the Old testament and the Gospel. He asked if anyone could tell them the story of Joseph. One of the little boys said that Joseph was sold into slavery by his brothers and the king made him a slave like the white men in this country made slaves out of the blacks. Pastor Wayne looked quickly at me and went to a different chapter.

Upcoming activities were announced.The hat was passed. There were a lot of "Amens" said when something was said that was significant,and there was a lot of significance.Then I saw James walk back to the office. He brought out the painting.
"Brothers and sisters,"he said standing behind the microphone."I want to introduce brother Roger. He followed my career and was kind enough to present me with this painting that he painted."
The parishioners turned around. I stood up a little, smiled and waved.
"Amen!",they shouted in one voice.

Shortly,the ceremony ended. James walked up to me and put his hand on my shoulder.
"Roger.I hope you come back."
"I certainly will,"I responded.
"My life is with the Lord now.I don't follow boxing much,"said James seriously.
"James,I've been wrestling with life.I want to control things. I want it my way.I'm killing myself. i'm realizing that there are things I can't control. I need to turn things over to God."
James smiled and put his arm me more tightly.
"That's it. That's the answer.That's the only way to go,"he said very assuredly.
"James.I know you work with at risk kids. I did that when I was a teacher. I worked with kids who were drop outs,kids in jail,the homeless,pregnant girls,abused kids-the gamut. I want to help out if you want me."
I gave him my card.
"Roger.We'll do this together with the help of the Lord."
"I'm retired. I volunteered at Father Joe's,but it didn't work out. There was no spiritual guidance there.It was chaos."
"You'll be here next Sunday?"
"I'll be back. Somehow I think God is piloting my ship."
"This will be beautiful,"said James."Amen."
We embraced. I walked outside. The sun was still shining brightly.

April 25th.The Centennial Anniversary of my favorite singer,Ella Fitzgerald








https://youtu.be/YJsa0OfWcGA

Something I Should Have Mentioned

When I met up with James Kinchen last Sunday at the Helping Hand of God Church we did talk a little bit about boxing. Mostly it was about the gyms in San Diego at the time. One question I did have for him was that if he ever sees Gilbert Baptist around anymore. Gilbert was a local fighter,a middleweight.I thought he had some pretty good skills. His forte was boxing more than trying to slug it out. When I met him he was working in the Probation Department at Juvenile Hall. I was teaching there and sometimes Gilbert would stand outside my classroom if there was a potential for any trouble. They tried to separate the gang element in the Hall,but it was impossible. You get some Blood in a classroom with a Crip and you never know what could happen. In a flash they would be tearing into each other, then you'd hit the alarm and shout "Bellies". That meant everybody on your stomach hands behind your neck because every probation officer in the vicinity would be storming the door. I was lucky. I never had to hit the alarm. I thought about it a few times,but I had a way of diffusing the tension by staying" relaxed" if I saw tempers starting to flare.I got to talking to Gilbert and we became friends. He was still fighting at the time.He also had the religion.That's why I asked James Kinchen if he ever sees Gilbert anymore.James told me that Gilbert still comes around to the Helping Hand "to check up on me."That's nice to hear.

Later when I got my stride teaching I saw Gilbert again at the high school I was working at. Gilbert was still with the Probation Department. He'd check up on kids that were in the school and were on probation. Sometimes Gilbert would bring his young son with him. I was coaching football at the school and I asked Gilbert if he had any time to help out with the team. We were setting that up,but Gilbert's schedule didn't allow it.

I remember seeing gilbert fight Terry Norris at the El Cortez Hotel. They had fought once before with Terry getting the decision. Their second fight at the El Cortez was all action from the opening bell. They had the crowd standing on their feet.Terry won again. It was close,but I thought the judges got it right. Gilbert won a California State title. He even got a shot at a World title. He sort of backed into it. Lamar Parks was supposed to fight Gerald McClelland for the Middleweight title,but injured himself in training. Gilbert was offered the chance. He couldn't turn that down. At that time Gerald McClelland was a beast. He was going through everyone. He went through G8ilbert in less than a round. I thought McClelland would keep the title forever.In his next fight he destroyed Julian Jackson.Then when it looked like he was having his way with Nigel Benn,tragedy struck.

Every time I watch the replay of that fight,I think of Gilbert Baptist for some reason. Gilbert wasn't ready to fight McClelland. I don't think he could have beaten him if was in the best shape of his life. Gilbert didn't have a "puncher's chance." Nigel Benn could punch. He landed a big shot in the 10th round against McClelland that suddenly, and again tragically,turned the tide.

I used to watch Gilbert work with Terry Norris at Spud Murphy's Gym on Broadway .The gym was upstairs. Gilbert was in Norris's camp. He was getting Terry ready for the Leonard fight.This was several years before Gilbert fought McClelland. We saw Terry in training and we knew that Leonard was in trouble. Ray had gotten away with a draw and a win in two forgettable fights with Tommy Hearns and Roberto Duran,but Ray hadn't laced them up in a year and a half. He was stale as poor house cake. Terry was in his prime.Terry ran away with the decision. I thought he was a little hesitant. Maybe he was in awe of Leonard.I thought Ray was ready to go a few times.

I hope to see Gilbert Baptist again.Gilbert was a guy that was always loose and friendly. Clean cut, smiling, and very humble. A joy to be around. He'll probably show up at the Helping Hand of God. With God's help He'll make that happen.




"Sugar Ray" Leonard

What You See In The Movies Should Stay There

I've never taken Hollywood's endeavors into making movies about boxing too seriously. It's good not to taste anything Tinsel Town puts up on the screen about history unless you flavor it with a grain of salt. If you want to be entertained,so be it. To cite a movie as a historical reference is incredulous.

The movie "Raging Bull" is often considered the best and most authentic flick about the sport. If you read Jake LaMotta's ghost written autobiography his accuracy's aim is closer to the target. I keep bringing up my father's relationship with the famous and the infamous. Being connected with The Outfit in Chicago made these acquaintances a more or less hum drum everyday affairs. Mob guys were never star struck by any celebrity.Fighters were especially used to make a quick score with. They looked at fighters as being "schmucks" unless it was Marciano.Even other Italian fighters of renown like Willie Pep,Carmen Basilio,and Rocky Graziano were steered into treacherous waters by the guys who gave no second thought about breaking you legs or tossing you dead carcass into the East River.That went the same for LaMotta. Let my father tell it.My paraphrasing.
"We all liked Jake. He was East Coast,but we handled him the way we wanted. If he hadn't been a fighter ,he would have been a hit man for the Mob. He had no guilt about anything. He didn't trust anybody and had few friends."
"Raging Bull" sort of paints LaMotta as a kind of an Eugene O'Neill's "Hairy Ape." O'Neill's ape was a goon,LaMotta was an ape with a pathological cruelty.That cruelty was never directed by Martin Scorsese.LaMotta became the typical Hollywood anti hero.The movie brought LaMotta instant celebrity status.My father was a lot like the Mob guys who saw movies that were supposed to be about themselves or of their ilk. They always dismissed it as more fiction than fact. "It never happened that way,"they'd always say. Vicky LaMotta took her ex husband to see "Raging Bull." After the ending LaMotta asked her if he was really that bad. She said"No,you were worse."

So Jake LaMotta got a second life and a new career with "Raging Bull." I guess it was fortunate for him that he liked to fight and was good at it.Otherwise he might have wound up like guy Joe Pesci acted in another Scorsese flick,"Casino." In real life the role of Nicky Santoro was supposed to be of Outfit hit man,Tony "The Ant" Spilotro. "The Ant" and his brother got themselves buried alive in a cornfield. That really happened. If you want to make an analogy between Jake LaMotta and Tony "The Ant", you're closer to the same person than drawing an inference from watching DeNiro in "Raging Bull."Now I'll let one of my dad's stories wind this up.

My father was getting a "steam" at the Stardust Hotel in Mission Valley one afternoon. The Stardust was a hangout for Wiseguys.As my father is commiserating with fellow lawbreakers ,in walks "The Ant."Spilotro was contracted out from Chicago to kill Frank "The Bomp" who was a snitch and Tamara Rand who wanted to muscle in on a Mob run hotel in Vegas."(he accomplished his mission). Well,he storms up to my father and points a finger at him.
"Now that I'm here you'll take your orders from me.Understand?"
Now my father had a few years on "The Ant" and had dodged bullets on Okinawa and was" connected" a lot longer than Spilotro.My father didn't stir a muscle and just smiled.
" I got news for you pal.I take my orders from Sam Giancana."
"The Ant" turned on his heel and stormed out of the building.



Sam Giancana

A Not So Noble Man

After Floyd Patterson,under the guidance if Cus D'Amato,secured the heavyweight title steering the championship on a self serving course, the boxing sea experienced the doldrums. It wasn't until Cassius Clay shocked the world after Sonny Liston had had enough, spitting out his mouthpiece in Miami.In the Southland, fighters like Art Aragon,Manual Ortiz,Harold Dade,Enrique Bolanos,Lauro Salas,Jose Becerra,And "Raton" Macias were taking off their gloves or were trying to make the transition to a more civilized world.A few flashes came along. Sluggers Ricardo Moreno and "Battling "Torres spiked some enthusiasm ,but too often their chins were on the receiving end their opponents' slugs.It wasn't till Ruben Olivares crumbled Lionel Rose to the canvass that Southland boxing got that shot in the arm.A torrent of top notch fighters in the lighter weights brought a flood of fans to the arenas.Throw in big boys like Kenny Norton and Jerry quarry and the aficianados had their perfect storm again.

However ,during those times when boxing was trying to find a wind,we had to take what was out there.It wasn't anything that would shun us away.I was a boxing fan. I didn't suffer. San Diego,being the weak sister between los Angeles and Tijuana,had headliners on cards that probably shouldn't have merited that status,but it made no difference.I remember paying money to see Sid Obart,Beto Maldonado,Ernie Cuadras,Al Gonzalez,Paulie Armstead, Jimmy Fields,Petey Gonzalez,and Ski Goldstein.I'm grateful that they were around.The old Coliseum kept the light on for them and their loyal fans.The price of a ducat was worth it.That old building was apropos for those journeymen. They could have transplanted the Coliseum to a back lot at Warner Brothers Studios and they wouldn't have had to movie a chair.Think of all the pug movies using those tank town arenas as a backdrop, and you have the San Diego Coliseum.

Looking back, there's one guy that sticks out in my mind. His name was Wilhelm Von Homburg.He was a heavyweight.A tall lean physique that was covered with a milky pinkish smooth hairless skin.His styled hair was white. He was the whitest dude I ever saw. It was like seeing a white cow eating a vanilla ice cream cone in a bllzzard.He had a droopy pouty mouth,expressionless blue eyes,and an air of arrogance that made everybody instantly hate him.Emerging from the dressing room with a cigar in his mouth,the boos could be heard all the way down to the docks.The promoters matched him with a strew of tomato cans that he'd open and spread around like the topping on a pizza.Every month the fans would come to pay their money to see if any of those tomato cans could somehow raise a tomato red welt on Herr Wilhelm's creamy smooth body or maybe slice open a cut like a ripe beefsteak on his smug face. It wasn't until Chuck Leslie,a good local heavyweight,trimmed Herr Willy and sent him packing. I never saw Homburg again nor wondered whatever happened to him. He wasn't missed.

As I was kicking this story around in my mind,i thought it would be a good idea to do a little research on the German.So I did what all good researchers do who want to do just a "little" research , I went to Wikipedia.I thought I might come up a cropper or read a sentence or two.Instead,what found was very interesting. Yeah,Vonny went on fighting. He flew across the pond and was in there with names like Blinn,McBride,Del Papa,Rinaldi,Zenn,and Bonavena. Not bad. A record of 30 wins(24 Ko's) and 11 losses.Not bad.But what struck me was his out of ring life.His real name was Norbert Papen Grupe. His daddy worked in a Nazi concentration camp. After the war dad introduced Norby to wrestling and father and son became tag team partners.Norby then decided to change his name to Wilhelm Von Homburg. Later,he said he regretted the name change because he thought people would think he was a nobleman! Also, during his grappling days,dad accused his son of raping his stepmother.Then came a second life with boxing.After boxing he was in the movies.I see he was in some pretty notable films and had some pretty forgotton roles.

He led a "rebellious" life it is written in Wikipedia. Drug dealers,pimps,and the Hell's Angels were part of his peer group.He lived in the red light district of Berlin.He was accused of drug dealing,extortion,and pimping so he wasn't all bad.He died in Los Angeles in destitution.I don't know what kind of mark he left. Maybe you'd call it a blotch.




The San Diego Coliseum in its golden days




Wilhelm Von Homburg

https://youtu.be/VgjbBNTQq5Y

Rog, check out this youtube link. Your remembrances on Von Homburg reminded me of this one which I saw a year or two ago. It is a German interview with him in a studio the day after Bonavena got done running him through the meat-grinder. Obviously he was still disoriented and should not have been there. I think I recall seeing that his sister said something like, 'I know that look. He was getting ready to beat the stuffing out of the interviewer.' What an uncomfortable interview. I heard he was one of the terrorists in the first Die-Hard movie.

scartissue wrote:https://youtu.be/VgjbBNTQq5Y

Rog, check out this youtube link. Your remembrances on Von Homburg reminded me of this one which I saw a year or two ago. It is a German interview with him in a studio the day after Bonavena got done running him through the meat-grinder. Obviously he was still disoriented and should not have been there. I think I recall seeing that his sister said something like, 'I know that look. He was getting ready to beat the stuffing out of the interviewer.' What an uncomfortable interview. I heard he was one of the terrorists in the first Die-Hard movie.

Great stuff.Thanks Dan. You now Ray White had a schtick that was funny. This guy was a sociopath and it was no act.

Willing To Take Them All On

Jerry Quarry's little brother Mike lived in the shadow of his heavyweight brother. He was just as ornery and pugnacious,but wasn't the draw like Jerry.Mike mopped up on Southland light heavies.San Diego favorite Ronnie Wilson couldn't beat him.Ronnie gave it his all as always,but lost two decisions.Chuck Hamilton also dropped two fights to Mike,the last one at The Forum where he was stopped in 8 rounds.Chalk up Jimmy Dupree as a win.Tough Andy Kendall was a decision going Mike's way.Eddie Avoth crossed an ocean and a continent to lose to lose to Mike.When Mike got his title shot with Bob Foster he was 35 and O.Foster was at the top of his game. He was an all time great at 175. Mike's Irish genes didn't thwart him from mixing it with Foster. In the 4th round a left hook similar to the one Bob put on Dick Tiger spelled lights out for Mike. Big bro Jerry followed up after seeing Mike stretched out on the canvas having to take on Muhammad Ali.. Ali cut him up and for the second time had stopped Jerry. Jerry said afterwards that watching his little brother unconscious on the canvas has affected him.I'm sure it did,but Jerry was a mark for that triumvirate of Ali,Frazier,and Norton. Jerry looked like a world beater against Ron Lyle,Mac Foster,and Earnie Shavers.A fight with George Foreman would have been interesting.

Mike got one title shot. Fighting at 175 was like performing on a pay no mind list. The division wasn't sated with that much talent.Foster was kind of a freak with all that height and reach he had on his opponents. He could also punch,but when he moved up to fight heavyweights, he looked frail.I'm sure Jerry wouldn't have shied away from tall Bob.But there was Mike prone on the canvas.That was about far as he could go.But up to that time he had a good run.

One San Diego fighter that mike had to deal with was a good looking Mexican kid called Amado Vasquez. They fought twice,the first time in the Valley Music Center in Woodland Hills.That venue was a safe haven for Mike. He never lost a fight there. The first fight was a walk in the park for Mike. Six months later they were matched up again,this time at Kimball Park in National City,a suburb south of San Diego.The ring was set up in the baseball infield,the concrete bleachers half mooned the ring. I was at the fight.The papers had built it up.Vasquez was the strong fan favorite in the predominantly Mexican neighborhood. Vasquez was unusual.Most good Mexican fighters were lightweights on down.Put this in the bank.If A Mexican heavyweight ever won the crown,he'd make Pancho Villa seem like Pee Wee Herman.

Amado Vasquez was a decent fighter. He had about as much of a chance beating a guy like Bob Foster as Mike had-slim and none.So this was Vasquez's giant step. He gets by Mike and maybe he gets a shot at a title and a big payday. The fight was in the afternoon. The bleachers were filled to capacity.I didn't see many toe heads in the crowd. In mike quarry's entourage was big bro Jarry,his wife Charlie,dad and mom Quarry. Once spotted the Quarry clan was target practice for slurs,all in Spanish,defiling all people of Irish lineage. Firecrackers were going off and the drunkenness was stimulating a bond of mob mentality. I was hoping that I looked lie a fair skinned Latino. I shouted out a few Spanish idioms trying to be convincing.

But ax I was feeling uneasy,the Quarry bunch accepted the insults and animosity as a challenge. They cut a swath striding to the ring.They stared down the adversaries. I think they were as anxious to throw hands as much as brother Mike.Outnumbered one hundred to one was a fair fight as far as they were concerned. For me the fight paled in comparison with the family demeanor. I had it even.The action was not exactly toe to toe. Vasquez got cut and the ref,I thought,stopped it too soon.That was a signal for the aficianados to express their disfavor. The usual incoming was aimed at the ring,mostly in the direction of anyone who had the last name of Quarry. The Quarry's showed their contempt by not trying to duck and cover.The cops started to move toward ringside in a very slow manner.I don't think the Quarry's wanted their help. Ma and Pa and wife Charlie were ready to lead the charge. If it wasn't so scary,it was funny-even kind of cute. To see that brood willing to lay it on the line for family was priceless,and beautiful.

But there wasn't any rumble. The cops didn't have to draw their clubs from their belts. But as close as it got to bloodshed,i felt I could explain why no one went to the hospital. The revved up Mexican crowd respected the Quarry's courage. Sure,if the crowd would have let go,it would have been another little Big Horn,but the masses of didn't to physical action .That wouldn't have been macho. To see the Quarry women willing to engage.They were like the soldaderas in the Revolution fighting alongsuide their men. No way that crowd would have led an assault. That wouldn't have been very macho.It would have been chicken s==t.Looking back,the Quarry's were as safe as in church.



Kimball Park



Jerry Quarry

Bobby Quarry, a younger brother of Jerry and Mike, also was a professional boxer, but had very little success in the sport, unlike Jerry or Mike. Both Jerry and Mike came down with pugilistic dementia and died prematurely. Bobby reportedly came down with Parkinson's disease with the side effects becoming very noticeable when he was 32 years of age.

Note- I believe that I saw Bobby fight in Bakersfield during the early 1980s.

- Chuck Johnston

Thinking about Mike Quarry made me reminisce on how my Dad hated Mike Quarry. He just thought of him as a peck and move artist. To a point that was true. I thought of him as a very nice boxer, but that all changed after the Foster fight. The first time I watched him post-Foster was against Billy Wagner televised live in a 12 rounder. I couldn't help but wonder why Mike was slugging it out with this guy. It certainly was an entertaining fight which I felt Mike won but was called a draw. I felt at the time he was trying to make fights exciting rather than box and win. The problem with this strategy was that Mike had an excellent jaw but no punch whatsoever. And that equals 10 very hard rounds. Every so often I would see magic appear as when he beat Tom Bethea or Mike Rossman. But generally, it was Mike engaging in the trenches. I can't help but feel that style change was such a real contributer to his eventual state in later life. When I think of the bruisers he was going to-to-toe with like TNT Carroll, Yaqui Lopez, Rossman, Andy Kendall, etc., which he had no business doing. You wonder who was looking out for him.

The last time I saw Mike Quarry fight was at the Coliseum in 1978 against a kid named Pete McIntyre. Mike had no business being in the ring anymore. His career was at a point where he was relegated fighting in small venues like the old Coliseum. Prior to the McIntyre fight ,Mike had beaten Ronnie Wilson again,another fighter who shouldn't have been fighting anymore. The McIntyre fight sticks out because it was so one sided. Mike got the s--t punched out of him. BTW.I don't remember any of the Quarry's being there to watch it.




Bob Foster

After getting destroyed by Foster,Mike Quarry's boxing career was essentially done.

Cajones

This is a big one with the aficianados,the Mexican fans. Saul "Canelo" Alvarez and Julio Cesar Chavez Jr. will settle the issue of who has the "cajones" .Their efforts have been a little inconsistent at times. Alvarez looked dismal against Mayweather.Chavez flopped with Sergio Martinez.After his loss to Fonfara,I thought Junior was finished.But both boys look like they're ready for this one."Canelo" should have fought GGG by now. Junior probably should have tested himself against the fighter from Kazakhstan also. I'm convinced that Mexican fighters fight through inspiration,even the great ones. Their careers can take off like an out of control meteor,and then suddenly they get in the ring one night and they look like their hearts are not into it. Too often they get caught up with the hysteria of being the champ. All of a sudden they have a lot of new friends,male and female. Most of those characters keep them from their training regimen .Instead they're inside the cantinas and the bedroom and then there's that white stuff showing in their nose hairs , when they should be inside the gym.Having "cajones" is essential to playing the macho role.Unfortunately it's an illusion. Fighters can sweep the public off their feet when they are wearing the crown,but when they lose that topper,never getting back into contention again,those "friends" turn their backs on them. It's a common story south of the border.But like I said,this is very big fight in Mexico. Two Mexican nationals have a lot on the line. To lose,especially decisively ,could be a career ender for one of them,and tuen their "cajones" into "chicharos."

The first three Marquez/Vasquez fights were sensational. Because both gave it everything they had , it was so ebb and flow,both men on the verge of catastrophe,they got to keep their "cajones." Chucho Castillo and Ruben Olivares didn't have to feel castrated either after their two fights.Sometimes in a bullfight,when the bull shows monumental courage,the crowd with tears streaming down their faces will demand that the matador not execute the "estocada",the fatal thrust of the sword.The brave bull gets to keep his "cajones" instead of showcasing his carcass hanging from a meat hook.It's kind of the same with boxing.If the defeated exhibits exceptional bravery ,he is equal in status to the victor To die unafraid is very important. How did he die? Was he brave at the end?

Well,I don't think either Julio Cesar Chavez Jr. nor "Canelo" Alvarez will die Saturday night,but I hope it's the kind of fight at the end where both get to keep their "cajones."


"Canelo" Alvarez




Julio Jr.

Gentleman Without Manners

I sometimes wonder what was going through Jim Jeffries' mind when he was fighting Jack Johnson with Jim Corbett in Jeff's corner continually yelling at Johnson calling him a n----r. Jeffries had been coaxed,coerced,and bribed to come off his alfalfa farm to take back the heavyweight crown for the sake of the "white" race and wipe that smirk off Johnson's puss.After five years from his last time in the ring,having to lose 100 pounds,and struggling with bouts of depression,Big Jeff looked inept early on in the fight. Back then, being considered a "Great White Hope" was revered.The fight was scheduled for 45 rounds on July 4th in the blistering heat of Reno, Nevada.The hot sun was so intense that when the wood bleachers for the fight were being constructed some of the planks warped . After enduring 15 rounds of Johnson's slashes and taunts ,Jeff's swings either being picked off or fanning a breeze on Jack's golden grin,"The Great White Hope" for the first time in his career collapsed on the canvas, an arm hanging limply on the ring rope. His well wishers rushed to the ring and tried to prop Jeff up to his feet.Happy Jack was waiting to spring on him. Tex Rickard stepped in mercifully to stop it. Afterwards, Jeff said even at his best he could never have beaten Johnson.Race riots ensued across America resulting in fatalities.

I watched that movie "Gentleman Jim" the other night on Turner Classic Movies. I saw the current thread on roles played by actors depicting fighters.(Would James Dean been a better "Rocky Graziano" than Paul Newman? Errol Flynn as Jim Corbett).Paul Newman wasn't a very believable Graziano. James Dean would have been even farther off the mark.Errol Flynn's depiction of Corbett tried to paint the man as a sensitive empathic person,cocky and over confident for sure,but basically a man with a good heart. That scene in the movie when John L.Sullivan (Ward Bond) walks inside Corbett's post celebration party,bowler In hand,and with dignity,congratulates Gentleman Jim as being the better man, all said in that humble Irish brogue. The violins play and Gentleman Jim humbly says to the Boston Strong Boy that he was his idol growing up and perhaps if their fight had taken place ten years earlier the outcome would have been different.The room is silent and transfixed as the violins play a wee sad Irish lyric.The great John l.,bowler still in hand(and a bouquet of flowers),turns, and with dignity leaves;head held high,a strong upper lip,and fades away.You can see a tear in Gentleman Jim's eye as he watches his idol dismiss himself from the festivities.

Good thing Sullivan was white and not a black man. It would have been a different movie if Errol Flynn would have pulled out the N word.



"Gentleman" Jim