BoxRec

The Wake Up Call

When I saw Memo Ayon beat Sugar Ray Robinson in the Tijuana bullring in 1965 I thought the fight could have been scored either way. !965 was to be Robinson's last year as a fighter. Ayon was a good fighter but he caught Robinson at a time when Sugar had no business being in the ring anymore. Ayon had a stocky build,big chest and,short arms.He was an arm puncher like a lot of fighters that have that kind of physique.He pressed Robinson throughout the fight and had him against the ropes most of the time.. Robinson's legs were gone by then ,but he countered a lot of what Ayon threw at him. Robinson couldn't find space in the center of the ring.His legs betrayed him..Like I said,the fight could have been scored either way.Ayon,I believe, was living in Tijuana at the time. He still does. His son is a referee and a promoter.. I don't know if you could have considered Ayon as a fighter on his way up at the time.When he fought Robinson he had several losses on his record. One of the losses was a knockout at the hands of Nino Benvenuti in Italy.But there was no doubt where Sugar Ray Robinson stood. He was boxing his shadow.

When Ayon got his hand raised after ten rounds the crowd went nuts. Robinson didn't put up any squawk. He put on his robe and left the ring.During the fight I heard some disparaging remarks aimed at him from the aficianados about the color of his skin. When Robinson stepped down from the ring the name callers gave him applause. Some were even standing.

Robinson would fight a week later in Honolulu losing another either way decision to Stan Harrington. He'd have nine more fights ending with Joey Archer winning a no brainer in ten pathetic rounds in the Pittsburgh. Ayon then was matched at the Olympic Auditorium with Luis Rodriguez who was at the height of his powers.I knew that Ayon was in trouble.I saw a replay of the fight(Many of the fights at the Olympic Auditorium disappeared frim the KTLA vaults.Whoever has them I wish would return them. No questions asked). Rodriguez.in a nutshell,was way to fast for Memo. Ayon couldn't come out for the 4th round. Ayon had three more, fights losing all of them. But I think it was the loss to Rodriguez that made Ayon think that he would never get through to the top of the middleweight division to become champion.

Ayon had the good sense to retire when he realized that he didn't have the goods..Today,he's working promoting fights in Tijuana with his son.Though he was never a Sugar Ray Robinson nor a Luis Rodriguez things worked out for him after his last round. A fighter keeps on fighting even when it's over in the ring. I've never seen a sport where so many ex fighters wind up broke,financially and physically.Memo Ayon can at least say that he's winning the battle outside the ring now that it's over.He gave it his best shot. That's the best anyone can do.


Luis Rodriguez

It sucks that so much footage could just be sitting out there somewhere collecting dust. Did you ever see Luis Rodriguez' re-match with Rubin Carter at the Olympic? Surely that was televised back in the day.

chrisjs1985 wrote: ↑26 Mar 2019, 15:06 It sucks that so much footage could just be sitting out there somewhere collecting dust. Did you ever see Luis Rodriguez' re-match with Rubin Carter at the Olympic? Surely that was televised back in the day.

Yes Chris I did.It was a copy of the first fight. Carter didn't know how to handle him. He could never get his feet synchronized to put his punches together. Luis Rodriguez was a very underrated fighter.Those bum decisions he got with Griffith affected his legacy.

dagosd2000 wrote: ↑26 Mar 2019, 17:03

chrisjs1985 wrote: ↑26 Mar 2019, 15:06 It sucks that so much footage could just be sitting out there somewhere collecting dust. Did you ever see Luis Rodriguez' re-match with Rubin Carter at the Olympic? Surely that was televised back in the day.

Yes Chris I did.It was a copy of the first fight. Carter didn't know how to handle him. He could never get his feet synchronized to put his punches together. Luis Rodriguez was a very underrated fighter.Those bum decisions he got with Griffith affected his legacy.

I'd love to see those fights along with the Briscoe ones, the Benton one and the Cokes series. Hopefully I can find them one day. I agree on the Griffith decisions. I felt he won them all, but surely no worse than 2-2 and that's giving Griffith every benefit of the doubt. Rodriguez' resume is incredibly deep and across two deep divisions and his skill holds up on film. He's an all-time great for certain.

Brand New And Shiny

Tuesday seems like the slowest day in Tijuana. On Monday there's a little carry over from the weekend. I don't think Mexicans want to think that on Monday they have to hit the boards running to start the workweek,expecially if they have to cross the border into San Diego to get to the job. But Tijuana's at first glance is deceptive. The city has grown at such a sweltering pace that the infrastructure,that wasn't state of the art in the first place,is helplessly falling farther and farther into the abyss. Cars are backed up,trash is all over the sidewalks and streets,busted water mains,not enough electricity lines stretching out to the outlying areas where the migrant squatters have settled,and to compound all that the maintenance services that try to fix what's broken are buried under a lack of workers and enough equipment. Most of the vehicles and tools are second hand from the U,.S.But with that said I don't see Tijuaneros pulling their hair out. If San Diegans had to deal with the physical issues like the ones in Tijuana,the lines at the mental health facilities would reach around the block.

I went down to Tijuana today,Tuesday, to get a haircut,pick up some medicine so I wouldn't have to make an appointment with my HMO to get a prescription filled,and to drop by the local gym. The gym is located in colonia Hidalgo above the carniceria.The meat market was busy.Meat is more expensive in Tijuana than San Diego. I walked up the fight of stairs to the gym. It was empty except for the kid that was cleaning up.
"Where is everybody?"I asked jokingly.
The kid,I'd say he looked around fourteen and clean cut,said that the fighters would be coming in later. He had a mop and a bucket and was swabbing the floor to keep the dust from swirling up.I asked him how much it was to join the gym.He said 300 pesos.That's around 20 dollars a month.
"Have many fighters in here?"I asked.
"Not many.Mostly kids from around here,"he answered as he wrung out the mop with his hands in the bucket.
"I see this place all the time when I take my wife to the carniceria downstairs."
"You live here in Tijuana?"
"My daughter lives in Canon Jhonson."
"You go to the fights in Tijuana,"he asked.
"Not much anymore. The fights are mostly in these bars."
"But sometimes they have good fights in the auditorium."
"I took my grandson to the auditorium to see Luis Nery fight. Jaime Munguia was also fighting."
"They are very hot right now."
"I don't think they'll be fighting in Tijuana again,"I said.
"They used to fight in the bars."
"Did they ever train here?"
"No.we have mostly kids in here. A few adults but they're not professionals."
"It must be hard to make a living,"I said.
"Very hard.I have to work another job so I can give my mother money."
"What's that?"
"I juggle tennis balls in the street at the intersection and try to get tips."
"It's anything you can do I guess."
"But tonight I'm going with some people to the wall the Americans are building past the airport."
"Are you going to climb over?"
No,'answered the kid smiling."We are going to steal the barb wire on top of the wall. All we need is a ladder and wire cutters.The barb wire is brand new shiny. Then we are going to sell it.There's quite a demand."
"I guess you have to do what you have to do,":I said.
"How do you say? Dog eat dog."
"And everyone down here is wearing Milk Bone underwear."



The gym upstairs from the carniceria

A Peek At the Other Side Of The Moon

As much as Muhammad Ali loved being in the spotlight,I think there was a facet of his personality that he wanted to keep private.If you concur with the precepts of "yin" and "yang" Muhammad Ali would be a right on test case. His "yang" was an over the top exuberance that marked sensations of elation and energy that elevated him outside the pugilistic box. He was the most recognized face in the world,and the masses who knew who he was by just a glance, saw him as much more than a prizefighter. There will never be another like him.But then taking account the dualism of that Chinese philosophy we can ponder where was his reverse side? I don't think we ever saw it.At least the public never was privy to that mood.

Muhammad Ali brought out the best and the worst.. In the beginning the idolaters were few,mostly the young looking for a greater than life hero that spoke on their behalf. The world was in a flux and Ali was abetting the turmoil.He also scoffed at the old guard that was afraid of the changes.They tried to beat him down,but Ali stood alone like Davy Crocket at the end swinging his musket at the Santa Anna's army at the Alamo.But unklike Davy,Muhammad couldn't be killed. Later,he lost fights,but still waged in battle. He would have died on his feet a martyr against Holmes if they hadn't stopped it.Ali wouldn't have sat on his stool not answering the bell. That bell tolled for Ali. Like all mortals his body eventually was broken ,but his spirit kept living. Today ,I don't think there are many that think of him as a negative force that walked the earth. Oh,there are the nitpickers that feel they have to find something about him that denigrates his legacy.

One morning I turned on the news and there was a blurb about how a motorist driving his car in the early dawn on a county road in the foothills of San Diego saw ,walking along the side the road, a familiar face. The man was walking alone,but the figure was unmistakable. The man walking in the middle of nowhere was Muhammad Ali. A high sky,the suns's opening rays,the hoot of an owl,the brisk breeze blowing across the lake was all that was there to keep him company. The driver pulled his car over and got out.He had a camera in the glove compartment. He took a picture of Ali walking ..Ali kept striding ,his head down,his pace never wavering. The man who took the picture quickly got back into his car and drove away before Ali reached him. Ali never looked up.He was alone with his thoughts composed in the world without the creature comforts that garnished his ego. He was level with his surroundings. The worth was equally distributed. Opinions meant nothing.

His 'yin',the hidden thoughts he wanted concealed from us,His hero worshippers and critics he wanted to keep in the dark.The problems,the questions he looked for answers, were greater than a boxing match or a federal court. Greater than his family.Greater than himself. But he never told us what he was self examining. Ali said the keys were in his Islamic faith.But that just opened the door for the nit pickers.I'm sure that never bothered him.

The Craft Of The Sport

I was watching the replay of the first Jerry Quarry/Floyd Patterson fight on YouTube.Both fighters were picked to participate in the WBA heavyweight elimination tournament to decide who was to sit on the throne while Muhammad Ali was haggling with Uncle Sam about his decision not to be a conscript in the Army. The only other recognizable face that decided to not partake was Joltin' Joe Frazier. However,later he'd beat the winner of the tournament,Jimmy Ellis,to sit atop the WBA big guys.But still there was a large segment of the public(including Ring Magazine) that believed that championships are lost only in the ring,not by some commission saying you're not the man anymore.

I was glad to see Patterson's name in the hat. He became the champ after Rocky had had enough of AL Weill and training like a Spartan. Jim Norris's NBA came up with two names to get into the ring and settle on who was going to be the next top dog.Archie Moore had the qualifications.The other man I couldn't figure. But with Cus D'Amato in your corner you could figure cutting a few corners. was apropos with his track record.Floyd Patterson made Archie Moore look like a rank amateur in Al Capone's hometown in a fight that reeked of rotten tomato sauce. But that was back in the 50's. Floyd was with good ol' Cus again when he went to battle with the local kid,Jerry Quarry, in the Memorial Coliseum in Los Angeles.

The fight was scored a draw. Most of the scribes had Floyd ahead. Patterson was the veteran of the tournament,an Olympic gold medalist and a champion from a past decade. There would be a rematch with Quarry. Floyd would come up short by a nose length.The fight was at the Olympic Auditorium. The Quarry fights were the only times Floyd Patterson put on the gloves in LA.To me,he seemed like a guest celebrity on This Is Your Life.

If Patterson and Quarry were beyond your grasp of boxing knowledge and you saw the black and white footage of fight number one on YouTube without the aid of a headset,you might think that your were watching a couple of middleweights.it was the beginning of the end of the standard under 200 pound heavyweight. Both fighters were similar in physique.No fat hanging around the middle. What kept me watching was that both boys knew how to box. The action was in center ring..They were on the balls of their feet,not a lot of mistimed blows,fighting at proper distance. Head feints,counter punching,body punching. John Thomas let them work on the inside. The two even broke their own clinches.

Today,these monster heavyweights are sloppy.unschooled plodders.They can't pace themselves. They look amateurish. I think Joshua is the best of the trio(Joshua,Wilder,and Fury) though right now each of them think they are shoe ins for the Hall Of Fame. I'll take a 200 pound fighter with skills over these skyscrapers with boxing gloves. A savvy boxer can work inside and then all that height and reach becomes a disadvantage.

Two fighters who know what they are doing in there and have cornermen who can give them the right adviceThe fighters have the skills to make adjustments.The action flows.After the final bell they still have a lot left inside the tank. And what's inside is high octane.

Roger, I felt Patterson deserved both Quarry fights though they were very close. He just couldn't seem to get the benefit of many close ones like the Ellis fight or his maiden loss vs. Joey Maxim. It's his work after the Sonny Liston debacle(s) that really add credit to him. Sure, he was the youngest (and is still the youngest lineal) champion, first two time champion etc; but the quality work put in vs. Bonavena, Chuvalo (what a fight), Quarry, Ellis, Cooper, Machen really added depth and extra quality. He was a great fighter perhaps not a great heavyweight but he was the heavyweight champion at a time when it was the biggest thing in sports. All done as a man who'd comfortably make and dominate light heavyweight for a decade I'm sure.

MY PICK FOR COMEBACK FIGHTER OF THE YEAR(and it ain't the guy on the right)

The Right Time And Place

When I look on the forum and read what people have to say about who could have beaten Floyd Mayweather,it reminds me of when Willie Pep was just about untouchable,let alone you couldn't get a good shot on him. Fighters like Pep and Mayweather,and I have to include Ali ,were so fast that to try to beat them the conventional way was like trying to hit a fly in midair with a pillow. Roy Jones also comes to mind,but when his reflexes slowed down his boxing skills weren't up to offsetting the beatings he later took.

When they finally put together Mayweather and Pacquiao the world was waiting to see which fighter had the better repertoire.But speed is the hardest thing to conquer because it enables a fighter to get away with unorthodox technique or just a plain lack of it. If you can't hit the guy you can't win. It was Pep who told his corner that in his fight with Jackie Graves he wasn't going to throw a punch to win the round. When Pacquiap came out for the first round against Mayweather,i knew before the round ended that Manny wasn't going to win. He wanted to fight Floyd in the middle of the ring.Feint,counter.What was he and Freddie Roach thinking?They were going to outbox Floyd? Get Maywether to stand there toe to toe and trade blows? It turned out to be a dud of a fight after all the years waiting for the eventuality.It was one of Mayweather's easiest tests.

To have beaten Mayweather you had to mug him:grab him around the neck and club him ,put him on the ropes where he can't slip away and play hit and run. DeLaHoya for awhile was doing that but then he took his foot off the gas and let Mayweather steal it.No one tried to fight dirty with Floyd. He got those guys to do what HE wanted-box with him.

When Willie Pep lost his first fight to Sammy Angott,Angott mauled him. That was Angott's style anyway.His nickname was The Clutch.A Willie Pep pinned on the ropes is a different Willie Pep when he has center ring at his command so he can pull out all his fancy moves. Sandy Saddler,another assault and battery fighter,also put Pep inside a phone booth.

When Canelo tried against Floyd he never used his physicality to his advantage. I'm not taking anything away from Mayweather,but his opponents should have studied film of Pep in the ring with Saddler and Angott. Unless you catch a Pep or a Mayweather past their primes,the conventional fighter doen't have a chance.

Roy Jones showed cracks in his first fight with Tarver.Never had one of Jones's fights been that close.He dug down in the last two rounds to pull it out,but that was his last hurrah Now I want to say something about the heavyweight who,in his prime, moved like Pep,Jones,and Mayweather.

We saw Ali lose fights after the layoff,but of all the fighters that had a win over him after he "flattened out" only Joe Frazier would have been a problem for the brash pre exiled Greatest. Frazier was a mugger. He put constant pressure on you and that's what Ali didn't like. And Muhammad wouldn't have cared for it even when he had his legs going for him. Frazier may have been made to order for Foreman,but Ali had to fight the full three minutes of every round with Frazier.

Before I drop the subject I want to put in a few words about Sugar Ray Robinson. He was as fast as my three examples(Floyd,Roy,and Muhammad)but Ray was under control .He had everything in his fight package. Before he lost the first thing all the athletes experience when Father Time comes a knockin' -when the legs go-Robinson could adapt because he could execute anything he wanted to do in the ring.Added that he had a solid chin and we can understand that record of 123 wins against only the LaMotta loss. Ray would have beaten Floyd at any catch weight. Same with Jones. Ali would have been too big.Pep too tiny.

All the great fighters that came before Maywether's time would have been interesting matchups. He wouldn't have finished career without a defeat if he had to fight the two Sugars,the Nose,Mantequilla,,Griffith,Hands of Stane.Pryor,Arguello,Benitez,Macho Man,or old man Chavez.One or more of those guys would have pinned a loss on him. Guys like DeLaHoya,Pacquiao,and Alvarez had the tools but they fought Mayweather's fight. I don't want to say that Mayweather got away with anything.Let's just say he came along at the right time.



Floyd Mayweather

Taking A Little Off The Top

Just Off the top of my head:When I listed the former fighters who couild have made life tough for Floyd Mayweather,I left off the guy who might have possessed the most ability to pin loss number one on Floyd,Pernell Whitaker. In 45 fights he lost four. He got robbed against Ramirez the first time and he should have left the ring the welterweight champ after fighting Chavez in Texas. The Oscar fight was close,but at the end I thought the officials had it right. When he fought Trinidad he looked uninspired. He retired after that fight only to reappear two years later losing a fight that at the time was close,but couldn't continue because of a busted collar bone. Sweet Pea was slick,kind of like Floyd,but fought from the opposite side. Both fighters had the same mind set. They didn't want to get hit. They wanted to look good in there.Whitaker didn't fight many Afro/Amercan fighters,but when he did he dominated.Just ask Buddy McGirt. I think if Whitaker would have been facing Floyd it would have been who's the "prettiest" or who's the "sweetest.?" I think Sweet Pea would have given Floyd enough angles,feints,and movement to make him leave the ring with the sugar blues.

Doyle Millsap who handled a few fighters in the San Diego area owned a flower shop downtown, He formed one of those barnstorming softball teams. Millsap pitched and was just about unhittable. He played only with four fielders behind him. His son,Danny ,was an infielder. Softball pitchers,because they threw the ball underhand,could pitch every day. The underhand motion doesn't put that much stress on the arm like throwing overhand.The Millsaps were familiar faces at the San Diego Coliseum,colorful and always could come up with a good story.

When Burke Emery was still in control of his bar,Champs,he used to tell me that Archie Moore's son would drop in from time to time. I never bumped into him. I know he played on the local community college football team,Mesa College.I went to one game and saw Papa Moore in the stands watching the game. He was by himself. I went over to say hello. As usual, his eyes lit up and he was his amiable talkative self. We sat there for a half before I left. I didn't see Archie's son get in the game,but listening to Moore was worth the price of admission.


Archie Moore

The Other Chavez

It was my great granddaughter's birthday yesterday.She turned two years of age.Her name is Jade.My granddaughter and her husband wanted a boy because the only child they had was a girl. They wanted to name the boy after the father. His name is Jaime.So when the girl was born instead they named her Aimee that sounded like Jaime. But her middle name is Jade and that's easier to say.My granddaughter and her husband rented a salon in Playas De Tijuana by the beach to celebrate the event. As my wife,daughter, and I drove along the crowded road to Playas I noticed that many of the businesses that run parallel to the border fence had coils of barb wire, that the had been cut from the top of wall, strung as barriers outside their home and business establishments. All you have to do is get a ladder,climb up to the top of the fence,and snip off as much of the new barb wire as you want. Most of the barb wire was put on top of the enclosures that act as barriers in front of parking lots,construction sites,and to keep people from jumping over gates and fences to get onto private property Stealing the barb wire has emerged as a profitable black market industry in Tijuana in recent months.

I drove around in circles trying to find the salon.We had the address,but since Mexico doesn't have many street signs and people seldom put the numbers of the street addresses on their property it took awhile to find the salon. Asking a bystander, telling them the address, is pretty much an act in futility. If they know where the place is they'll give the directions using landmarks
"Go to the church and then turn right up the hill till you get to the taco stand and then you'll see the park and it's across the street."
And most of the time that direction is wrong and you have to ask someone else. Luckily, my daughter's GPS was working down there even though she didn't have an international plan.There must have been one of those sonar dishes across the border close enough to the border that allowed her to pick up the signal.

The salon was big and beautiful located right across the street from the beach As is often the case there wasn't a parking lot so I had to park my car on the side street. I put "The Club" on the steering wheel and then paid one of the many kids on the street a dollar to "watch" my car. That's what they're there for.It's worth it. The chances are if you don't pay them,they'll go to the cop on the corner,(who allows them to work their racket for a fee) and when you come back your car is gone. if your lucky,the window is smashed and your stereo is missing.

The party was suppose to start at 2 pm.We arrived at three and things were getting still getting set up But I knew that that would be te case because "Mexican time"is always later than what it's supposed to be. The last thing Mexicans want to be is enslaved by the clock.My granddaughter and her husband had hired various food vendors:an ice cream stand,a taco grill,a table where women were making hot cakes,a churro cart with a steering wheel that when turned oozed out the batter.There as a full wet bar.There were clowns that blew up balloons and twisted them into different shapes and figures. On a table next to where everyone put their presents was a huge three layer "tres leches" cake adorned with plenty of icing.A face painter was working in a corner.The little girls were anxiously waiting in line to have the face painter decorate their faces with finger paints and colored glitters.A long beam hung out in a corner. That was where later they'd tie the pinatas so the kids could swing a stick trying to bust open the pinatas and then jump down fighting over the candy.Photograhers roamed the room snapping pictures and then returning later looking for the people that were in the pictures. If you wanted a picture it was five bucks U.S.Most people didn't buy any pictures.The only pictures that were sold were the ones where people posed with my great granddaughter standing in front of the big cake.

There were big round tables with thin paper table cloths that had bowls of candy and plastic statues of the Little Mermaid in the center.. My youngest granddaughter's husband came over and sat with us.His name is Ivan.
"Roger,"he beamed."I've got another wrestling event next Sunday at the Rancho Grande Bar."
"I'll be there,"I said.
Ivan works two jobs at the big hotels in San Diego on the waterfront,the Marriott and the Hilton.Ivan has a dough boy body and a round happy face,dark skinned and eyes that constantly shift as he goes into his spiel about his future wrestling ventures.He's very enthusiastic about his wrestling promotions. All of them have been in Tijuana so far.
"I'm trying to get something going in LA next month,"he rattled off." It'll be crazy. Really crazy."
"Did you ever think about promoting boxing matches?"I asked him.
"I don't know too much about boxing ,"he answered.
"Funny you should say that being Mexican.When I was teaching history in San Ysidro I'd tell the kids that we were going to learn about Cesar Chavez.They thought I meant the fighter."
"Well,I've heard of Cesar Chavez the fighter.Who's the other one?"
"He was a very famous union organizer in California. He represented the farm workers."
"I never heard of him,"said Ivan.

By around 5 o'clock the salon was filling up pretty fast.Family,friends,and neighbors from mostly Canon Jhonson where my granddaughter lived and grew up came pouring in.it was a circus atmosphere. I was talking to Ivan still when I heard a roar come up from the crowd. I looked at the door. My son in law's sister walked in with her little girl in a stroller. The girl was lying on her back fastened in by braces and straps.. She had been born with cerebral palsy.I saw that she was dressed in a little pink dress with ribbons in her hair. The mother pushed the stroller in front of the big tiered cake to have a picture taken. Everyone was on their feet crowding the girl and her mother. People who couldn't get close enough stood on chairs frantically taking pictures.Everyone was delirious shouting and yelling They were applauding and jumping up and down. I sat there staring wide eyed and open mouthed. The hysteria seemed like it lasted an eternity.

Fianally.when things died down Ivan turned to me again.
"This other Cesar Chavez.You said he did what?"
"Oh ,he helped the poor."
"You'll have to explain to me more about that later," he said.


The Other Chavez

It's Just A Hollywood Movie

Our son,Ramon, is going to stay with us for awhile. He lives in North Hollywood. The restaurant where he's been working for the last fifteen years is closing it's doors.So he's going to stay with his mother and me and regroup. He's the night manager at the place he's working at right now.. To tell the truth I've never been up there where he works. I used to know the name of the place,but I've forgotten it. Ramon comes down to visit us several times a year usually Thanksgiving and Christmas for sure..The restaurant business can be pretty hectic. He's always liked working in restaurants. There was a time he wanted to go partners and open a place in North Hollywood,but things fell through. Couldn't come up with enough money-the likely story.

I hate to say it,but I pushed Ramon pretty hard growing up. I wanted him to play football and I set up a ring in the back yard so we could spar around. The thing was that I don't think he ever wanted to play football or spar around. He did it because I made him do it. I look back and I'm not proud of that. But he went out for the wrestling team in high school and finished 1st in the league championships. He liked wrestling.That was his idea though I never wrestled in school. He also ran the low hurdles for the track team and finished 3rd in the league finals. Again,that was his idea.

I have to say that Ramon was a better athlete than I was in school. I enjoyed sports. Ramon took it with a grain of salt. He was never the BMOC jock sort like I was. He was basically a quiet kid. I never heard him swear or treat anyone with disrespect. His teachers liked him and so did the girls. He never lost his head with women like I did. They were always chasing him. I was always chasing them.

When Ramon left school after his senior year he went to the community college to learn restaurant management. When he got his A.A. he moved up to LA.The opportunities were better up there ,and besides ,he could get away from me.I understood. I didn't take anything personal.

Ramon was always a hard worker. He worked in restaurants when he was going to school.The liberal arts stuff that they taught in college I knew wasn't for him. When he moved up to LA he got hired on right away. Again,the place was somewhere in North Hollywood. One Christmas Ramon didn't come down to San Diego. No Call.No word.Nothing.A few days after the holidays we got a call from Ramon. He said that he was out of town with friends and that he couldn't make it for Christmas,but that in a few weeks he'd come down to San Diego.

When Ramon finally arrived he had a confession to make. He brought with him a friend.Turned out that one night after closing the restaurant where he was working,he and his friend were hijacked at gunpoint by two cholo scumbags. The cholos put Ramon and his friend in the back of Ramon's car and started to drive them onto the freeway. One of the cholos said it was a part of a gang initiation and that that they were going to kill Ramon and his friend The cholo riding shotgun was turned around and had two 22 caliber pistols pointed at Ramon and his friend. Just as they were approaching the off ramp to the freeway.Ramon saw a police station. He lunged at the cholo with the guns and grabbed his wrists.But the punk got off two shots ,the slugs hitting Ramon's stomach.But Ramon was so pissed off with the adrenelin flowing,he smashed the cholo's head against the side glass. Then he grabbed the driver by the back of the neck and slammed his head against the other window. All this time Ramon's friend was frozen with fear. Both scumbags were knocked unconscious.Shortly,Ramon passed out. Everyone came running out to the scene.The police were there in an instant. Ramon was taken to the hospital and in IC for three days. The docs removed a section of his colon where the slugs had ripped it open.When Ramon was at the his house he lifted his shirt showing us the two foot ragged scar. His mother began weeping.
"If it hadn't have been for Ramon we would have been killed," said his friend.

Later, there was a trial for the two punks. Their mothers were there and were crying and pleading with the judge to forgive their babies. They were really good boys who believed in God and were kind to their mothers.They were convicted of kidnapping and attempted murder. I'm sure when they got to San Quentin they were bent over and had their tails reamed out every night.Now that they've been there long enough(they're veteranos) they're doing the reaming.I'm sure their mommies still come to visit them if they haven't yet died of broken hearts.

After recovering from this ordeal,Ramon went back to work at the same place.The next Christmas when he came down to San Diego he had another story to tell us. But this time the anecdote was kind of funny. I guess there was this cute waitress that worked on Ramon's shift.Evidently, this bistro was near Rodeo Drive and was frequented by a lot of the Hollywood ilk Ramon was saying that Sylvester Stallone(you know,aka Rocky Balboa) would come around the back door of this joint sniffin' around for this particular waitress.Well, since one of Ramon's responsibilities was to keep the restaurant operating on a professional level,he would have to go to the back entrance and run off Sly aka Rocky from time to time. But Rocky kept coming back. This chick must have really been hot and probably a foot taller than Sly aka Rocky. By Ramon's account, he told us in a non chalant manner,that he finally had to lay the law down to Mr. Stallone. If he saw him again while this gal was on the clock that he was going to get his ass kicked and it wouldn't be a Hollywood fight. My son never saw Sly aka Rocky around again.

I see where the IBHOF inducted Sylvester Stallone into their pantheon of champions. He's in the picture with the other inductees standing right in the middle with this s--t eating grin holding up the traditional boxer's fist.. I think Ramon if he saw that would have gotten a good laugh.

When The Brothers Didn't Kick His Ass

When Muhammad Ali was in San Diego for two weeks wrapping up his work in the gym preparing for Ken Norton,he drew a huge crowd everyday at the Town And Country Hotel banquet room where they had set up a makeshift ring so he could spar.Later,after Ali finished his workout,Kenny Norton would take over. Like I said earlier in the thread.Ali drew the big audience. Norton sweated in front of a handful of spectators

One afternoon after Ali had finished sparring,he grabbed his familiar microphone and went into his Ali spiel to entertain the fans. But like anything else,there's always somebody in the throng that's there only to harass and make trouble. I remember one day Ali was standing in center ring rambling on about how he was going to give "Ken Fartin'" a whuppin' and how pretty he was the prettiest and that he was The Greatest-the usual routine that never seemed to weigh on the public's ears.But like I said,there's always at least one in the crowd that's there to cause a stir.

Ali was going great guns with his mouth for around twenty minutes when a voice from the back cut through the monologue.
"Hey boy you're not so great boy",wailed someone in a thick mammy jammer drawl."Muhammad Ali.Who do you think you are you big ape?"
Everyone immediately dropped their jaws wide open. You could feel the tension instantly.You could have cut through it with a knife. Heads turned around to the back of the room ,and there standing against the wall was some old redneck who looked like a second cousin to Colonel Sanders.He had this contemptuous smile on his face.He was wearing suspenders to hold up his trousers . As he was mocking Ali he rocked back and forth on the soles of his feet.
"Muhammad Ali. What kind of name is that?Something from Africa?"he spit out.
The room was dead silent. Ali went to the front of the ring and stared out looking for this guy.
"Who is that fella'?"he asked."Anyone know him?"
No one said anything. Puzzlement and awkwardness sifted through the crowd. There were plenty blacks that were mixed in withthe gathering. Before this guy began shooting off his mouth the atmosphere was jovial and good humored. I could tell looking at the back people that they were proud that Ali was one of them.Ali could win over anybody.Everyone felt a amiable togetherness.Everyone except Colonel Sanders second cousin. But this in a blink of an eye guy had turned the room to gloom in a matter of moments. Everyone then turned to Ali for some kind of direction. If anyone could right the ship it was Ali.
"Brothers!"shouted Ali."Brothers go get that guy! Brothers,kick his ass!"
People were bewildered. I could see the whites looking at the blacks. The blacks became more uneasy. No one made a move. You could hear a pin drop.. Ali was looking out over the crowd.Finally,a security guard walked up to the redneck and grabbed his elbow. The security guard was a white guy There was another security guard who was a black guy but he stood at his post.The white security guard then led the redneck out the door,but that didn't stop him from his rant.
"Muhammad Ali. Muhammad Ali. You ain't nothin' you monkey," said the old man as he was shown the exit.

After it was over the mood remained ambivalent.Quietness prevailed. Ali had the microphone in his hand but he wasn't saying anything. I could see some people walking to the door. Angelo Dundee and Bundini Brown jumped into the ring and cut off Ali's wraps and put his robe on him. Then they all quietly left the ring. People stirred around murmuring still trying to digest what had just happened. The blacks and whites that were intermixed before separated as they left for the parking lot.

But I wasn't surprised or shocked. Ali's act was all hype.An act.Did he really think that the brothers were going to kick that guy's ass? The crowd that was there to see him wanted to be entertained. They wanted to go back to work the next day and say they saw Muhammad Ali. But I bet when they did they left out the part about the redneck

Whites Only

Archie Moore liked to keep everyone guessing. He liked to make you believe he had these little trade secrets that were not only the keys to opening a successful boxing career,but living a life with wisdom as your companion.

For years he would talk about how he could take off unnecessary pounds and still retain his strength before the weigh in. One of the versions was that he had been privy to a diet when he went to Australia to visit Australian middleweight Dave Sands.According to Sands ,he revealed to the Old Mongoose a recipe that was practiced by the Maori tribes of New Zealand. Of course Archie wasn't going to explain that recipe any further.Well that just piqued the curiosity even more and added to the mystique. Archie was "The Old Mongoose".They didn't hang that moniker on him for nothing. He wasn't a "Hatchet Man" or a "Brown Bomber" or even an "Old Man River".Nothing magical with those names. When Archie Moore talked to you you felt your were in the presence of the Dalai Lama. And Archie would tell you that him and the ol' Dalai went back a long ways spinning prayer wheels back in Tibet. I even think Marco Polo might have bumped into the Old Mongoose in one of Kubla Khan's pleasure domes.

Many years later when I was giving Moore a hand that summer at his Any Boy Can facility in East San Diego,I heard him tell a young fighter how to take off unwanted weight and still not short change himself on the nutritional end.
"When you eat a steak chew it real good to get all the juice that's got the blood and proteins in it.Then spit out the meat.That way you get all the nutrition and not the fat and fiber.See? You'll lose the weight that way."
When I heard that I went back to what Archie said about what Dave Sands hold told him about the "secret" Maori diet.But that was something a lot of fighters did. Jake LaMotta used to eat that way, taking a raw sreak and squeezing all the juice out of it and not eating the meat. I've never thought of the Raging Bull as being a guru.

But Archie Moore liked to keep people off balance.He could articulate and speak in soft tones with a Chesire smile and a glint in the eye. But I'll be quite honest with you. He did that mostly with white people and little kids. Oh,there was nothing wrong with that. A lot of white folk thought of him as a sort of sage of boxing.I did. A sage of boxing and a man of wisdom. But the blacks in the Ghetto saw through that manner. When they saw Archie talking like the Burning Bush, to the press for example,they waited for him to finish his Sermon On The Mount so they could get him back in the street again. And he liked that just fine. He could be just one of the guys.

There were some black fighters in his day that thought Moore was pontiferous,or even kind of a phony. Charley Burley wupped him good and never got the print in the papers or a title shot like Moore. If Moore needed to get in the spotlight all he'd have to do is call up one of his sportswriter buddies on the phone. Charley Burley wasn't a Harold Hill.But neither was Archie Moore. He loved to entertain.Make people walk away feeling that they were given the keys to the kingdom.The thing was though that his audience wasn't The BoyZ In The Hood


Archie Moore

The Nightingale Doesn't Sing Anymore

I never knew the old London before the war with its pomp and circumstance and its empire where the sun never set.I really got to know it when I'd take my granddaughter across the pond for a side trip after her Flamenco courses in Spain. San Diego suited me better.. I got to know it when her empire had ceded away and her streets filled with people wearing turbans and tunics and speaking languages that sounded like a cacophony of birds in a cage.

The last time I visited London was a few years ago. I saw that I had booked a hotel next to St. Pauls in what they call the City of London. Across the street are cobblestone lanes that twist and wind their way past quaint pubs and shops.Oh,I told you about that one pub I fell in love with,The Cock Pit.It was at the tip of a finger where the two flanking streets converged. What caught my eye was a Scottie dog sleeping at the front door. Of course I'd been to the tourist sights:the Tower of London,the Eye,Trafalgar and Picadilly,the National and Tate Museums,Hyde Park,rode the Tube,Buckingham Palace.But my favorite way to spend my time was at The Cock Pit. Unpretentious.No glitz and glamour. Easy chairs, and newspapers strewn on the tables. No tele unless there was a game. The barkeep was a traditional looking bloke with a reddish face that was stern but honest.He had thick forearms and thinning pale hair that he combed straight back..My first time at the bar went something like this.

"Say. I'm an American and I want a beer but I'm not into the ales especially when they're warm and too thick. You got anything like a cold lager?"
"You'll need a Carling. I'll draw it for you,"he said as he tipped the glass under he spigot.
"You've got a really interesting place here,"I said as he put the glass on the bar."They don't have this in the United States."
"You on a holiday?"
"Yes.A holiday. i'm with my granddaughter.We were in Spain last week and decided to come to London.
"So how do you like London?"
"I love London. This area reminds me of those old English movies in the 50's. I love those movies and the stars:Albert Finney.Dirk Bogarde,Jack Hawkins,Trevor Howard. Remember Albert Finney in that movie Saturday Night And Sunday Morning? Rachel Roberts was in that one.But those movies were in black and white. They were better that way. Color would have been too much. Taken something away. Black and white is conducive to the city don't you think? When I walk around here I think of Sherlock Holmes or Jack The Ripper. My favorite Holmes in the movies was Basil Rathbone. There was no other. Of course Nigel Bruce as Dr. Watson was unmatched. And the old fighters around that time. You know who I mean. Freddie Mills,Randolph Turpin. The Brits called him Randoplph. I like Randolph better than Randy. Jack Solomons put his fight together with Robinson here.And I remember when Marciano beat Woodcock. That was a dirty fight. They used to have fights at Albert Hall. Imagine that?That's where Hitchcock shot that famous scene in the Man Who Knew Too Much when Doris Day was trying to alert that head of state that he was going to be assassinated.I always like that version better than the first one.You know I had a crush on Glynis Johns. Boy she was pretty. And Mary Ure.Claire Bloom. Celia Johnson was one of my favorites. I believe Glynis Johns is still alive. Honor Blackman too.I think movie for movie the Brits were better. They could really act. Remember Carol Reed's The Third Man?My favorite movie of all time. Imagine though if that zither music wasn't in it. You know Carol Reed saw that guy playing in the street and wanted his music in the movie.Laurence Olivier was killed in that plane over the Bay Of Biscay during the war. They say the Germans thought Churchill was in that plane. How about Churchill?Old Winnie. One of my favorites. Great speech maker.An inspiration to England.When the Blitz was going on he and his wife Clemmie walked with the King and the Queen Mother through the bombed out streets. Inspirational. Hitler didn't do that. He sent Goebbels.If Churchill would have given up the world would be in a mess today. You'd have your pick of Hitler or Stalin running things in Europe They say Germany was fighting a war on two fronts.No. It was three. England was like a stable giant aircraft carrier. Round the clock bombing. Harris and Arnold unloaded on the Germans almost everyday. By the way.What time do you close?
"Around dark."
Really?"
"If you want some night life you have to go to Covent Garden."
"Is that far?"
"You'll have to ride the tube."
"Well,I'll do that."
"Do you want another Carling?"
"No thanks.But I'll be back tomorrow.You know this money confuses me. The big coins are worth less than the small ones. I'll put what I have on the counter and you take what I owe you."
The bartender took some of the cons and I shoved a few more back at him for the tip.
"Thanks Yank.Then I'll se you tomorrow."
"Say.Have you ever been to America?"
"No I never have,but next year I promised the wife and kids that I'd take them."
"Where ae you planning to go?"
"Disney World."

I got up and started for the door,but then stopped and turned.
"I made a mistake,",I said. "Don Cockell fought Marciano."
I started to walk on the cobblestone street down a dark pathway humming that tune A Nightingale Sang In Berkley Square when I saw a little door with a neatly hand painted sign above it was illuminated by a street lantern.Ye Olde London Barber Shoppe.Now that's what I was here for. I strained my eyes looking through the pane. There was an antique barber chair with a clean folded towel over one arm and the strop hanging from the side. Behind the chair was a tablewith mugs and brushes and a mirror with a gilded frame Above the mirror was a painting. It was dark and I couldn't make it out at first. I was imagining who it was.Maybe the Queen. Lord Nelson. I bet it was old Winnie. Then my eyes began adjusting.The image became clearer. My word. It was John Wayne with a cowboy hat.

I began walking back to the hotel. I was thinking about the bartender. Never been to the United States and he wants to go to Disney World. Well,he was probably doing it for the wife and kids.



My favorite movie.Anton Karas on the zither

More Than A Loss

Fighters back when I was keeping up with the sport didn't consider a loss as the end of the world. They'd be in the gym the next day continuing to train waiting to get the word from their managers about who they were going to fight next. A loss for a young fighter was a learning experience .It should be looked at that way.. Sometimes a manager would come up to his fighter in the dressing room before a match,put his arm on his shoulder,and say that this isn't your night.

I saw a young heavyweight by the name of Jimmy Young fight one of the local up and comers at the Coliseum in San Diego. This was 1970.On the fight program it showed Young's record of two wins without a loss. He was from Philadelphia.No one had heard of him in San Diego. The guy he was fighting was a local kid,like Ken Norton,an ex Marine who decided to begin his pro career in San Diego.He was a big rangy fella' ,looked like a big farm boy.He brought with him an impressive amateur record. He'd won a Golden Glove title somewhere back east. He'd beaten Jerry Quarry and George Foreman in amateur tournaments,but those guys were a far cry from household names back then. Looking back on it now it makes me raise my eyebrows.

The local ex Marine came into the ring that night against Philly Jimmy Young with a win in his first pro fight. I had seen that fight.It was at the Coliseum on the undercard.The local kid cut the other guy early in the fight and they stopped it. I wasn't exactly sitting on the edge of my seat before the opening bell. The main event that night featured another local talent,Eddie Mazon. There were plenty of empty seats in the Coliseum that night.

I was sitting with a friend two rows back from ringside. Jimmy Young entered the ring first.He was wearing a terry cloth robe without his name on the back.He had a passive look like he was bored with the whole thing. The ex Marine climbed through the ropes next and began scuffing his feet in the rosin box. Frank Rustich ,the referee flipped the card with the blue and the red sides to determine which fighter went to which corner.

The boys got their instructions from Rustich,touched gloves,and returned to their corners prancing up and down waiting for the bell to ring. At the gong Jimmy Young walked towards the ex Marine ,looked him up and down,and then feinted.The local kid went for it and dropped his right hand for a second. Like a flash, Young clipped him on the jaw with the prettiest, smoothest left hook I'd see in a long time. The local kid was on the seat of his pants shaking his head with a look of disbelief.Instead of taking an eight count he got up right away. He was still bewildered when Rustich grabbed his gloves and looked into his eyes. Rustich waved Young forward and just like that he gave the local kid another feint and clipped him again with the hook.Down he went again,but now you could tell he was on queer street. A minute hadn't gone by in the round. There was no way he could last the round. But then the weirdest thing happened. Young didn't want to fight anymore. The only contact he was making was trying to hold the local kid upright.I'm screaming and yelling at Young to fight. The guy was ready to go.But all Jimmy Young wanted to do is do nothing.

By this time I'm pulling my hair out. Then this guy sitting in front of me and my friend turns around and asks me who do I think is going to win. The guy is looks like something out of a Damon Runyon story. He's runty and scrawny and needed a shave.His face is full of liver spots and his crooked teeth are tobacco stained. His hair is an uncombed and iron flecked.I could see his threadbare sport coat was threadbare at the elbows.
"Who do I think is gonna' win?Young will knock him out in the next round."
"Well,I've got 20 dollars saying the local kid is going to win.,"he said smiling away at me.
"Your on old man,"I said assuredly. "I'll take your money."

Well ,if I wasn't fit to be tied. There were five more rounds left to go and Jimmy Young I don't think threw five punches. The local kid ambled around trying to hit Young with anything,but missed most of the time, and what he did connect with had no effect.At the end of six it was the ex Marine with win number two. I'm down in the dumps and start to reach for my wallet to pay the old man the twenty.
"Hey,kid"he winked at me,"Keep your money. Young wasn't supposed to win tonight."
That was the first time anything like that happened to me. A gambler not collecting on a bet.

That local kid,the ex Marine.he had another fight with this big musclebound black fighter who broke his jaw. The local kid called it a career after that. Jimmy Young,well,we know what followed afterwards. He gave Ali everything he could handle. Embarrassed George Foreman and Ron Lyle. Lost a split to Ken Norton.Drew with Earnie Shavers. How good was Jimmy Young? How many times were his fight arranged beforehand? We'll never know. He died early. If he was connected with the right people he might have won a title. Been inducted in the IBHOF.

To see him lose the way he did that night way back when when he was an unknown makes me think.Losing was a part of his mantra. whether it was legit or on the level. He just had to take it in stride. and keep on going.



Jimmy Young

Great story about Jimmy Young,Roger. Young was terrific.
I think I can top your experience about a gambler not collecting on a bet. I bet a good amount of money on Azumah Nelson the night he fought and lost to Genaro Hernandez. After the fight the guy I owed the money to refused to accept it and said to me that the decision was a robbery and he didn't feel right taking my dough. If you remember, Nelson was beaten by a mile and I never understood the guy's decision to absolve me of my debt.

goose 5 wrote: ↑05 Apr 2019, 21:40 Great story about Jimmy Young,Roger. Young was terrific.
I think I can top your experience about a gambler not collecting on a bet. I bet a good amount of money on Azumah Nelson the night he fought and lost to Genaro Hernandez. After the fight the guy I owed the money to refused to accept it and said to me that the decision was a robbery and he didn't feel right taking my dough. If you remember, Nelson was beaten by a mile and I never understood the guy's decision to absolve me of my debt.

Great stuff Goose. Hard to figure sometimes. I remember I was at the Caliente Off Track Betting in Tijuana. It was the day of that match race with that filly Ruffian and the Kentucky Derby winner ,Foolish Pleasure. I made a bet at the window on Ruffian and then got into this heated discussion with this gambling degenerate who was convinced that a great female horse could never beat a great male horse. If you remember,Ruffian broke down during the race.She later had to be euthanized. When Ruffian broke down I really didn't want to pay this guy off. But when I reached for my money,he refused to take it.He was crying like a baby. He couldn't control himself. Go figure.

A Dog's Life

When Sid Flaherty opened up his training facilty in Lyon's Valley located in the foothills of San Diego in the east county,it also served as a kennel for his Malamute dogs. I drove out there a few times to watch Denny Moyer and Ronnie Wilson train. It was a good place to have a training camp-plenty of fresh air,a good elevation,no noise. There was a ring set up and rooms in the back for the fighters to call home while they were away from San Diego. The closest bar and liquor store was miles away and that would put Flaherty's mind at ease,especially when Denny or Ronnie had to focus on a big fight. Danny Rodriguez ,who had been with Flaherty since he had Moyer in Portland, was there to train the fighters. He also served as a caretaker for Sid's mutts. Flaherty was in the business of breading and selling the pooches. I'm no dog expert,but they were beautiful animals. They were the kind of dogs that pulled the sleds in those races in the snow. That big race in Alaska,the Iditarod,is the super bowl of dogsled racing. I'm a big dog lover and I'd always worry about the dogs in those races because of the below freezing temperatures and the 15 days it takes to complete the 1000 mile course. I don't see how the drivers hold up let alone the dogs. But those dogs have the inherent genetics and are trained to not only survive,but carry on gallantly. I swear those dogs up at Flaherty's training camp were tougher than the fighters.

One afternoon I took a drive out there to watch the fighters go through their regimens. I spotted Ronnie Wilson and he wanted to know if I wanted to work out with any of the fighters. I told him that I was just a spectator for the day. I could hear the Malamutes barking out in the back. I asked Ronnie if I could see the dogs. He said that usually you had to get the OK from Sid,but he wasn't around so he'd take me out back to see the dogs. Each dog had its own kennel..It was more of a chain link fence on a concrete slab. There was an aluminum shield that covered about half the space. It wasn't a large space,very Spartan like. Some of the dogs were tied to leashes.I asked Ronnie if the coyotes ever bothered the dogs.
"Hell.These dogs are closely related to wolves. The coyotes don't mess with them."

A little later Flaherty arrived with Danny Rodriguez..Ronnie introduced me and said that I was good for some of the boys to workout with, and then he went up into the ring to start shadow boxing. While Wilson was warming up I said to Flaherty that he had some beautiful dogs. He smiled and said that the Malamutes were his pride and joy. I asked him if I could maybe help feed the dogs some day. I told him I was a big dog lover.
"These dogs aren't pets.,"he answered with a stern voice."They're very attached to me and don't like strangers."
I figured that was good enough for me so I didn't press the issue.

After Wilson finished shadow boxing he stepped into the ring with one of his sparring partners. I didn't recognize him.Ronnie worked with him for a few rounds. I always liked to watch Ronnie in the ring. He was a beautiful boxer. He wanted to work with this guy on a few things,mainly foot movement,looking for openings,and slipping punches. The sparring partner gave him what he wanted.He pressed Wilson so that Ronnie could pull out a few stops and get some good work in. After finishing Wilson looked at Flaherty.
"Where's Jerry.?He's supposed to be here to work with me.,"asked Ronnie leaning on the top rope talking through his mouth shield.
"He's got a hurt hand and can't do any sparring,"said Sid.
"What do you mean a hurt hand?He was fine yesterday."
"Well,he went back outside to pet one of the dogs and the dog bit his hand. He's got 11 stitches in him."
"Well. that doesn't do me any good," spouted Wilson."I need more work.I need to work with a bigger man like Jerry."
Flaherty didn't say anything and then turned and looked at me.
"Did you bring any gear with you?"
"No,"I answered."I didn't know I was going to be asked to spar with anyone."
"Well,I don't have anything for you,"he said disappointedly.
"Well do you think I could go out back and look at your dogs again?"
"Yeah.Sure.,but don't get any ideas about sticking your hand in the cage.

If I Feel Like It

I had a kid in one of my classes when I was teaching down by the border who after graduating wanted to enroll at the local community college,Southwestern.But he hadn't made up his mind about what he wanted to study.My school was an addendum of the main campus. It was a school for kids that were behind in credits. Some of the kids had done some time in Juvenile Hall. Some of the girls were either pregnant or were mothers. The program was set up as an "independent study." They could show up all five days of the week if they wanted ,but most of the kids came in maybe a few days at the most.They showed me their homework that I had assigned them. If the work was completed and more or less adequate I gave them full credit. Their official attendance was based on the completion of their assignments. Some kids were working jobs. The mothers had to be at home with their babies. The district was only interested in getting a good attendance record from my school. That way they could collect money from the state and the feds. As long as the kids made an effort I passed them. Very few wanted to continue on to college after graduating.I'd say half dropped out or were still so far behind that when they turned 18 the district kicked them out because they couldn't collect anymore of that government money.

Well, this kid I was talking about,Andy,lived in Tijuana,but back then the district didn't ask any questions about where you lived.I'm guessing, but I'd say half the regular school kids and my school's kids lived in Tijuana. Practically all the kids were Mexican with a handful of blacks,whites ,and Filipinos.

Andy didn't exactly live a life growing up like Dave and Ricky Nelson.He was born in Colonia Libertad east of the city by the fence along the border. He sold tacos to the illegals that wanted to either climb or go under the fence. Later,Andy got into the business of being a "coyote" smuggling people across to the U.S.side for a few hundrd bucks a pop.He lived with his sister who raised him until she ran off to get married and took off with some guy from Jalisco . That's when Andy moved in with his brother. His brother was hooked up with the narcos.One day the cops came to the house to tell them that they found his brother with his throat slit in a ravine down at the beach.Andy's father had died of an overdose of heroin. His mother took off with some guy in Vera Cruz who owned a pharmacy and was left with eight kids after his wife died. Andy had a friend in San Ysidro and went to live with him and his family. He enrolled in the school where I was working and that's how I got to know him.

Andy was a born leader. He was outgoing and showed confidence.He was affable and make you feel good when you were around him.. He formed a club on the main campus called The Chicano Club. The kids picked me to be their advisor. I felt honored by their attention. Andy was full of fire,a banty type,on the go all the time.He had a healthy look,a round face with eyes lie a hawk, a good crop of black hair, thick through the chest and shoulders,and walked upright at a brisk pace. .Even if Andy erred he never looked back with any remorse. He had plans and ideas and drew the respect of the "regular" students and the administration.Andy wasn't afraid to stand up for what he thought was right even if it was against the rules.

When the principal handed Andy his diploma at the graduating ceremony on the football field,i was sitting with the faculty letting the tears flow. After the summer break Andy walked into my classroom.I was certainly glad to see him. We gave each other a good "abrazo' .I told him that I'd take my break and buy him lunch in the cafeteria. We found a small table in the corner.
"Well,pal how's it going?"I beamed."Are yo in school at Southwestern?"
"I decided to go back to Tijuana to be a fighter,"he said.
I was taken aback.
"A fighter?I thought you wanted to go to college to study Police Science."
"That takes too long.Anyway, I want to be a fighter and make a lot of money."
"So where are you training?"
"At the CREA. All the best fighters in TJ are working out there."
"Is Romulo Rodarte still there?I knew him when I was working at CETYs."
"He's still there. He's my trainer."
"Well,he knows his stuff. He had Jjibaro Perez and trained Julio Cesar Chavez. He doesn't mess around."
"I'm looking forward to it."
I leaned over on the table face to face with Andy.
"Look,Andy.Boxing is a tough sport. Rodarte will expect you to be in the gym everyday.You can't be making excuses like 'I didn't have a ride' or 'It was raining outside.' "
"Or, if 'I just didn't feel like it.' "
What Andy had said. That was it. "I just didn't feel like it."
That is the feeling that predominates Mexico. Don't make any long range plans. Don't try to pin me down.Don't press me. It's how you feel at the moment. I wish I could live without any constraints like that.


Romulo Rodarte

Rog, you can't leave me hanging. Whatever became of 'Andy'?

scartissue wrote: ↑07 Apr 2019, 20:33 Rog, you can't leave me hanging. Whatever became of 'Andy'?

Dan
I never saw him again after that.

Stepping On A Gem

Mike Mayan had almost 100 professional fights. At least that's what shows on the BoxRec archives. I bet he had more fights than that.I know he fought in Mexico. Sometimes the fights down there get lost with the pack. I saw Mike Mayan lose a decision to Sigfrido Rodriguez in the Tijuana bullring. That fight was on the undercard of the Famoso Gomez/Art Hafey 10 round main event. Hafey lost that one. He was beginning to slip by then. He was experiencing nerve damage in his arms. Suey Welch and Burk Emery were asking for trouble having Hafey fight down there. Gomez was a windmill type fighter who made the other guy have to work all the time. Art couldn't work fast enough because he was in pain,but he never talked about that Hafey lost in ten to The Famous One.. On the undercard Mike Mayan couldn't keep the unorthodox and the strong Rodriguez from manhandling him ,and lost going the distance

Several fights before Mayan went south to fight Rodriguez he had a bout with,who I used to call "The Great White Hope" of the lightweights on the coast,Jimmy Heair. Jimmy was a toe head from Memphis,Tennessee.He carried that Southern drawl and a looked like he'd had plenty of experience kissin' cousins in Petticoat Junction. He had built himself up a pretty good amateur record fighting in Texas and then decided to pack his six shooters and come out West.He rang up a streak of 30 victories fighting mostly at The Forum and The Olympic Auditorium in Los Angeles. The notches on his gun didn't represent a lot of top ten contenders,but he could count Tury Pineda and Chango Carmona as two of those cuts on the ol' gun butt. He had also beaten Mike Mayan two out of two. There were rumors that if Heair continued carving up his six gun that a title match with Gato Gonzalez,the WBC champ,would be arranged in LA. By the time Heair was matched with Mike Mayan for the third time,Jimmy had lost a couple of decisions. The first loss was a big upset to the tough journeyman,Rudy Barro. Loss numero two was at the hands of the very talented Hector Thompson down under in Aussie Land.If Heair was to right the ship he needed to get to get another win streak going again. He'd beaten Mayan twice already.Mayan wasn't a bum by any stretch,but Heair thought he could turn the trick again.It made sense from Jimmy's perspective.

The fight was at the Coliseum in San Diego. I think the crowd was there to "see" Jimmy Heair,but they wanted Mayan to pull the upset. I'd say most of the fans were Mexican.I'm not sure where Mayan was born-the U.S. or Mexico,but the fans were in his corner that night.Mayan had already more than 20 losses going against him. He was the proverbial "stepping stone" in boxing. But if an up and comer couldn't get by him then that fighter might become the rock that other fighters would have to plant their feet on to see what direction they were heading.

Mike Mayan could do everything that was required of a fighter.It's just that he didn't excel at any particular skill. He was a pretty good boxer,he had a tough beard,he didn't pack a big punch,but he had a lot of heart. That night in the Coliseum was about as good as I ever saw Mike Mayan fight. Heair was a strong fighter,but a bit stiff. That night Mike Mayan stood there with him and and out did everything Heair did. Mayan out boxed him,slugged with him,and kept firing back. Both boys showed a lot of guts,but Mayan had something to prove. This wasn'tgoing to be Jimmy's night to get "well" again. Find some other "stepping stone."It was a great fight, ebb and flow,close all the way.Both fighters knew they were in the throes of desperation.During the last round the crowd was on their feet. At the bell both boys were showered with money-and it was the paper stuff. After ring announcer Fred Lewis read the cards referee Frank Rustich was holding Mike Mayan's arm in the air. It was the way the crowd wanted it. Heair was disappointed,but that was mostly with himself.

After that fight Jimmy Heair began to wander into the land of the "stepping stone" road. That road ,however doesn't lead to Oz. There's never a nice way to describe it. Palookaville.Bum Of The Month.Tomato Can. Let's just say that sometimes that stepping stone was once a shiny jewel. Too bad in the end fighters have to scuff their shoes on it.


The old San Diego Coliseum back in the day

I remember reading up on the 3rd Heair-Mayan fight at that time and just couldn't understand it. Heair had outclassed him twice and I recall thinking 'what is happening to Jimmy?' Around the same time I had watched the second fight between Sammy Goss and Jose Fernandez of the east coast and the same thing happening. Goss had outclassed Jose twice and the third time he gets beat. My first thought of course is Heair and Goss were slipping rather than Mayan and Fernandez improved. But i remember Mayan as being very Lobito Montoya-ish. A fighter with a great jaw - not a great wallop - who will come to fight. 9 times out of 10 he will lose to the house fighter but go the distance. A promoters dream. But Heair's nightmare that night.