BoxRec

rimoqika wrote: ↑10 Jan 2020, 05:48 Hello. This is a fantastic thread. I may lose my job being stuck here

It's not worth losing your job over. Have fun with it

Second Thoughts

I've often wondered if Juan Manual Marquez ever had second thoughts about telling everyone that he drank his own piss. I remember when that came out about Marquez incorporated drinking his piss into his training regimen..That would have been a pretty hard secret to keep from the public. I can't imagine him volunteering that information. It must have been someone close to him,maybe someone in his camp who just had to tell.Now it's like the poor guy has to walk around with a yellow letter"P" sewed onto his shirt.

Sometimes an Anglo will ask me what is all this talk about being "macho?"What does it take to be a "macho man?"Being a dago and marrying a Mexican woman I kind of know what it's all about.It's a combination of three things:the culture,the Catholic religion, and it being inbred in a male. "Well,give me an example then?"asks Mr. Whitey. Let's put it this way and make it simple.

"A man can do whatever he wants and he'll still come off being ;macho' ."

But there are some exceptions. Drinking your piss(or anybody's piss) doesn't come off as being "macho."Now let's face it. Juan Manual Marquez was a great fighter. He gave Manny Pacquiao his toughest fights. The last one ,when Marquez caught Pac Man flush on the jaw,I thought he might have killed him. Pacquiao had a long list of Mexican fighters notched in his boxing gloves.In their last fight, when Manny went to sleep on the canvas at The MGM Grand Hotel in Las Vegas,Juan Manual had done a pretty big macho thing. However,buy that time Marquez had announced that he had given up drinking his piss because his doctor told him that it didn't really give him any edge and that there could be harmful side effects-like being called a lot of names.

You can get away with a lot of things being Latino and keeping ,or even enhancing, your persona of being a macho man.But being a piss drinker doesn't qualify even If you had knockout one of all time greatest fighters who ever lived.

I'm sure Marquez gave up his spot of piss in the afternoon because there was no way the Latino community, let alone the aficianados, would think that was something Pancho Villa would have done.They wouldn't swallow it(or drink it). But it was too late..As long as Marquez's name is brought up there'll always be that "piss drinker" footnote.

When I stated that being "macho" is a man getting away with just about anything that's because the women(wives,sisters,and especially mommies) turn the other cheek when baby boy is naughty. He can be a drug lord killer like a Chapo or dress and act like a clown. The women will give him a pass. He's a male by golly.If it hadn't been for Eve enticing Adam with her flower we'd all be living in the Garden Of Eden still.And if ,let's say a wife puts up a protest, she may get smacked ,and to take it a step further the other women will run to his defense.And besides,he can always go home to mommy who will be waiting for her bambino with open arms.That's why Latin women look at males as being, in a way, weak. A male can be big and strong ,but the female has this flower power between her legs that will make him lose control.Not think right.Go crazy.

So like I said.A Latin man can get away with just about anything and still strut along like the cock of the walk.But I'll forewarn you right now.If you're into drinking your own piss,don't tell anyone or you'll also have to get used to eating a lot of s--t.


Manny Pacquiao.Not one drop of piss has ever touched his lips-that we know about

The Death Of Superman

TV's Superman,George Reeves, was to fight an exhibition match with light heavyweight legend Archie Moore,but the show couldn't go on because Superman was dead. George Reeves shot himself in the upstairs bedroom of his house in Benedict Canyon in Los Angeles. At the time Reeves was having an affair with a struggling actress,Leonore Lemmon. She was in the living room with a mutual friend when Reeves came downstairs and started acting in a "belligerent manner" according to Lemmon.. He returned to the upstairs bedroom,but came back down to the living room and apologized for his behavior.Then Lemmon screamed that Reeves was going to shoot himself.Police investigators could never conclude why Lemmon believed Reeves was going to shoot himself. She left town and stowed herself away in New York City.The coroner's report stuck.Reeves had committed suicide it said in writing.

Lemmon was Reeve's paramour after he split the sheets with Eddie Mannix's wife,Toni,after a tumultuous relationship. Reeves,who was eight years younger than Mrs. Mannix,was planning on marrying his new girlfriend in a few days,but had a prior engagement-an exhibition boxing match with Archie Moore.

I'm not going to play detective with how or why Reeves died. They made a movie about it called "Hollywoodland."I want to put Reeves in that category on the forum,"Mythical Fights." Reeves was a big guy and his friends said he could handle himself pretty well. While he was sponging off Toni Mannix, in his spare time he liked to workout with the weights with Aileen Eaton's son, Gene LeBell.Toni Mannix was paying for her Superman to have one on one weightlifting lessons with LeBell. Reeves also liked to put on the gloves. In high school George found a niche in boxing(back then many schools had "boxing" as part of the physical ed. curriculum).But the way Reeves put it, his doting mommy threw in the towel on her son's boxing asperations and admonished him saying."You have too pretty a face to keep doing this."

But when I look at my DVD collection of the TV series,I take notice when Reeves goes into action throwing punches. He's got a pretty good right hand. He throws it straight from his back and shoulder getting good leverage into it.Now I'm not trying to suggest that Reeves could have made Archie Moore jump out of the ring and head looking for the nearest lode of Kryptonite,but I think at the least it would have been fun to watch.

Before I wrap this up,to me there was only one Superman,and that was the George Reeves. He wasn't the first one,but for me growing up watching him every week on the big black and white Sylvania protecting Metropolis from danger is a poignant part of my youth.We all know that Superman has that invincible strong body,but we also are aware that with enough padding in the right places under his Superman suit Hollywood can sell the image. But it was also Reeves' head:the square jaw,the sharp nose,the slicked back black hair, penetrating eyes,and sounding a forceful tone of voice that made me wish that George Reeves really could have been Superman. George Foreman once said that every athlete aspires to be the heavyweight champion of the world. Well,there were a lot of little boys growing up that wished they could be Superman.



"Look! Up in the sky...!"

If He Was So Great Why Doesn't Anyone Talk About Him?

They made a couple of movies with regards to his life. The Great John L and Gentleman Jim were Hollywood takes(with plenty of leeway) involving the story of John L Sullivan. Of course Gentleman Jim focused on the life and career of Jim Corbett,but what would have been Corbett's legacy if John L Sullivan had kicked his ass? When Corbett disposed of a tired and long in the tooth Sullivan in New Orleans in 1892, boxing historians mark the bout as the dawn of the Modern Era. The fight was contested with both men wearing leather gloves. Also ,The Marquess Of Queenberry Rules were implemented to keep things fair and square. But Sullivan had fought wearing boxing gloves before he met Corbett. His high profile fights against Charlie Mitchell,Jake Kilrain,and Paddy Ryan were bare knuckle wars,but Sullivan mostly donned boxing gloves,thin as they were back then,when he entered the ring.As far as those Marquess Of Queensberry rules go, they were drafted in jolly ol' England in 1865.

But when it comes to rankings of "who was the best big man?" Sullivan is put on the pay no mind list.He's in the "Pioneer Category" index or just grouped with the "Old Timers". But the man that put the only blot on his record,JimCorbett,is discussed when discussions involve the great heavyweight champions. In 1974 Ring Magazine's Nat Fleischer ranked him as the 5th all time great. Reading the papers back then or listening to your great grandfather tell it,Gentleman Jim treated Sullivan without regard tattooing the Boston Strong Boy with a medley of punches that historians credit with the birth of "scientific" fisticuffs.

We have that old clip of Corbett in the ring with Fitzsimmons. He doesn't look so 'scientific" to me. And you can't tell me that a hundred or more years ago every fighter jumped on the Gentleman Jim Bandwagon of "scientific" boxing. Corbett was crude and so was everyone else that got into the ring wearing just a jock strap when Teddy Roosevelt was president. But getting back to Nat Fleischer and his dubious list. The Great John L doesn't make the roster.

We have a little film footage of Corbett.Jeffries we can study against Ruhlin,Sharkey,Fitz,and Johnson.If Corbett was 'scientific" then The Boilermaker was also a laboratory wonder. It wasn't until Johnson put the belt around his waist that the cameras began to get rolling. The only heavyweight champion that never had his face on the silver screen was Sullivan.But then again ,Tommy Edison was still in the process of inventing the motion picture camera. I looked up Sullivan's record and see that most of his victories were against men that were making their debuts. The bouts are listed as 4 round contests,but historians will tell you that some of those rounds were a ,lot more than 3 minutes. Also I noticed there is no record of Sullivan's fight with Kilrain(someone out there help me with this).That fight went 75 rounds. But with the exception of this fight and the one with Corbett,Sully 's fights didn't last more than a few rounds.

John L Sullivan was larger than life when he was champ. He was The Great John L. Maybe his stunning loss to Gentleman Jim had as much to do with enhancing his legacy as Corbett's. But the way the scribes have written it,John L. Sullivan couldn't have beaten any of the subsequent heavyweight champions that came after his day in the sun. He wasn't "scientific" .

I went to Wikipedia to find out how many men have claimed the heavyweight championship. 104. Guess who Wikipedia lists as the first heavyweight champ? Not only is Sullivan considered the first one,but the first "modern era" champ! I wonder what Daniel Mendoza would say about that?

The Great John L

Just Friends

After the fighters would get through working out at the old San Diego Coliseum the wrestlers would arrive and take over the ring. I probably went to as many wrestling matches as fights in those days. The fighters and the trainers didn't seem to mix very much with the wrestlers except for a few "hellos"and "how's it goings?".There wasn't any animosity.It was like,to me anyway,comparing apples and oranges. Most of the fighters were the lunch pail type blue collar guys,mostly undercarders. Moyer,Hafey,and Ronnie Wilson were the biggest names I'd see training on a frequent basis. Otherwise, it was mostly fighters who had as many losses on their records as wins.Burke Emory ran the show with the fighters as far as I could see. He had a stable of boys that would take turns rotating on cards in San Diego,up to the Los Angeles area mostly on shows at The Olympic Auditorium,and then make it down across the border to fight in Tijuana at either the Municipal Auditorium,the Jai Alai Palace,or the downtown bullring. Later a venue opened near the race track called The Arena 72. Guess the year that it opened its doors?

When I'd be hanging around with the fighters either watching or offering my services as a sparring mate,I'd usually stick around afterwards and watch the wrestlers practice their routines. Unlike the fighters, the grapplers didn't have any trainers or managers hanging around. Just about all the wrestlers had been plying their trade quite awhile. I'd seen their names and read their stories in magazines like the "The Ring" and sometimes I'd catch them in a bit part in movies and a television series. One big difference I saw between the two professions was that the wrestlers were greater showmen. They were just as much "actors" as wrestlers. On the other hand the fighters were more introverted and kind of quiet. Their trainers and managers hung mostly on the peripheries.They were Damon Runyanesque,but the wrestlers exuded the manner of the Coney Island huckster. It was Gorgeous George who was the template for the young Cassius in lessons of self promotion.

The crew of wrestlers in San Diego were basically the same guys who then would take their show up to LA to the Olympic Auditorium and,along with the Roller Derby LA T Birds,put on for the fans a make make-believe world that seemed believable. The old time movie actor,Dick Lane, announced the wrestling and the Roller Derby on KTLA TV.He did as good an acting job as I remember him playing" Inspector Farraday" in those old Boston Blackie movies with Chester Morris. When Mr. Moto would blindside a good guy like Edourard Carpentier,Lane would pull his hair and look up at the rafters."Whoa Nellie!"

The wrestling matches in San Diego weren't televised,but they were always a good draw. The kids liked the grapplers so there would be about even numbers of dads with their offsprings whoopin' and hollern' from the wooden bleachers. Just after the war Mr. Moto was ripe to be a "bad guy",but Moto was a bad guy in LA,not in san Diego. the "bad guys" in San Diego were Freddie Blassie and his often tag team partner Don Manoukian. Manoukian called everyone he didn't cater to a "Pencil Neck Geek."We actually loved him for that. (Sell those tickets!)There was also another "heavy" who wore a mask,The Destroyer.Between these three ogres they would go round and round with the "good guys"-Carpentier,Tricky Rikki Starr,Art "Sailor" Thomas,ex pro pigskinner Ernie Ladd,and and my favorite,Argentine Rocca. I remember seeing Andre The Giant once at the Coliseum,. He wasn't a regular,but when he got out there there wasn't a ticket left to buy at the window.Inside the arena,behind the snack bar,there was a giant picure of "the Giant" looking like an onerous King Kong.


The thing though that cracked me up was that all those wrestlers I saw walking out of that smelly mold infested locker room ready to practice rumbling at the San Diego Coliseum were friends with each other. They'd leave the locker room,that reeked of Old Spice,together arm in arm wearing the sport coats and the Hawaiian shirts opened down to the chest hairs laughing and carrying on like life was only 2 out of 3 falls.Then they'd get up in the ring and choreograph their routines with shouts and slaps being the signals to execute the next move.It was all faked,but those guys took some hard tumbles too. In the end they physically wound up as bruised and battered as their cousins ,the fighters. They didn't get punchy like the fighters but the massive amounts of drugs,alocohol,and pain killers they consumed often put them in grave sooner .Now with the PEDS that the wrestlers felt they needed to take to get an edge are killing them off faster than if they were in a drug war in Mexico.

It's all gone now.. Now you have to pay to see wrestling on TV that looks like something produced ala Star Wars. Boxing is practically finished. No more weekly cards.No more Olympic Auditorium. No more San Diego Coliseum. "Whoa Nellie"

The San Diego Coliseum after the lights were turned off

The Wrong Line

"Hey.What are you doing here?"I heard a voice from in back of me.
I turned around and was surprised to see Pat.We'd been close when I was working for the County of San Diego in the Agriculture department.Pat was our association rep and we became fast friends after that.But for whatever reason we broke contact.That was quite some time ago.
"Getting some pain relief,"i said jokingly.
We were standing in line at one of those newly opened marijuana dispensaries.
"Me too,"said Pat smiling."This marijuana helps get my mind off the pain of everyday life."
Like me,Pat was Italian.Our ancestors were from Naples so that was a good tie in for getting to become friends.He was brought up in the Bronx and he told me once that the scene they used in the movie Raging Bull when Jake LaMotta moved to Pelham Parkway was shot in his family's apartment. As an added ingredient to the relationship we both loved boxing.
"I got the bad hips like my father had." I said."But looking at him back then I never thought I'd wind up like him,"
"It must have been all that football and weightlifting."
"No.It was jogging every day on the pavement that got me."
Pat and me could have passed for brothers. A lot of times when we were together strangers would ask if we were brothers.Pat was built kind of stocky like me,fair complected, had an oval face and a Roman nose. You never knew when Pat was serious.Only when he let out his temper did you know he meant business.But most of the time he took life as a passing joke.His dark eyes were kind of shifty and it was hard to get him into to settle down.He was always seemed to be juggling three things at once.His hair was thinning on top,but the rest of his body had hair all over the place: his chest, back,forearms.bushy eyebrows,and you could see the hair sticking out from his nostrils.He even had hair growing on the knuckles of his fingers.
"So what do you buy from this place,"he asked me.
"I get the drops. Put a little under my tongue and it helps."
"Remember when we'd go to the Coliseum and train with the fighters?"asked Pat switching gears.
"I wish I could be in shape again,"I said.
"Remember that time we sparred with each other? I was sore for a week after that."
"Did you ever keep up with Ronnie Wilson?"I asked.
"No.After his wife told him that she had talked to me about him screwing around he got pissed off and wanted to kick my ass."
"Just like a woman,"I said."She should have never said nothing to him."
"I made the mistake of getting together with her in the first place. But then I thought could make a move on her.I wonder what he's doing now?"
"He's dead. Burke Emory told me he went back to Canada to get medical benefits and was living homeless in a park in Vancouver. Someone awhile back sent me an email that he died."
"Him and Moyer sure liked to get drunk.Remember that night we went out with those guys and tied one on?"
"We wound up hitting every bar around the Coliseum."
"Both those guys were "bad" drunks. When they were sober they were the nicest guys you'd ever want to meet,"I said..But when they got to drinking they showed their bad side."
"Why didn't you ever get started being a fighter?You had a good punch,"commented Pat.
"I was thinking about it,but I couldn't make up my mind."
"Didn't Dick Wood want to take you in?"
"He kept on asking me,but I never went through with it."
"After I left the union I moved up to San Francisco to represent the teachers up there.We lost touch after that."
"How was working up in Frisco?"
"I didn't last long.Besides, that's when Dorothy was going through with the divorce."
"I was getting married. I didn't want to risk everything being a fighter. Hell,I was 23 years old. "
"Didn't you go back to school and get your teaching degree?"
"I didn't want to work for the County anymore being around all those chemicals.So I went to school and got my teaching credential."
"Didn't you do some coaching too?"
"That was one of the big reasons I got the degree."
"I saw the championship game at the stadium,"remarked Pat." You guys had a hell of an offense offense.Didn't your head coach retire after that game?"
"He did and they wanted me to step up and take over."
"Why didn't you take the job?"
"I gave it a lot of thought but it would have tied me down too much,"I answered.
"Do you ever wonder what might have happened if you'd taken up fighting or being a head coach?"
"Sometimes. But that was a long time ago."
The line was beginning to move up. Pat walked to the counter that was for "recreational" use. I walked with him.
"Why don't you get in the line that says for "medical use"? There's not many people in it."
"I don't know. I'll just stay in this one. Besides.I can never make up my mind. That's the only thing I'm sure of."

Popular San Diego light heavyweight Ronnie Wilson.

dagosd2000 wrote: ↑14 Jan 2020, 20:54 Just Friends

After the fighters would get through working out at the old San Diego Coliseum the wrestlers would arrive and take over the ring. I probably went to as many wrestling matches as fights in those days. The fighters and the trainers didn't seem to mix very much with the wrestlers except for a few "hellos"and "how's it goings?".There wasn't any animosity.It was like,to me anyway,comparing apples and oranges. Most of the fighters were the lunch pail type blue collar guys,mostly undercarders. Moyer,Hafey,and Ronnie Wilson were the biggest names I'd see training on a frequent basis. Otherwise, it was mostly fighters who had as many losses on their records as wins.Burke Emory ran the show with the fighters as far as I could see. He had a stable of boys that would take turns rotating on cards in San Diego,up to the Los Angeles area mostly on shows at The Olympic Auditorium,and then make it down across the border to fight in Tijuana at either the Municipal Auditorium,the Jai Alai Palace,or the downtown bullring. Later a venue opened near the race track called The Arena 72. Guess the year that it opened its doors?

When I'd be hanging around with the fighters either watching or offering my services as a sparring mate,I'd usually stick around afterwards and watch the wrestlers practice their routines. Unlike the fighters, the grapplers didn't have any trainers or managers hanging around. Just about all the wrestlers had been plying their trade quite awhile. I'd seen their names and read their stories in magazines like the "The Ring" and sometimes I'd catch them in a bit part in movies and a television series. One big difference I saw between the two professions was that the wrestlers were greater showmen. They were just as much "actors" as wrestlers. On the other hand the fighters were more introverted and kind of quiet. Their trainers and managers hung mostly on the peripheries.They were Damon Runyanesque,but the wrestlers exuded the manner of the Coney Island huckster. It was Gorgeous George who was the template for the young Cassius in lessons of self promotion.

The crew of wrestlers in San Diego were basically the same guys who then would take their show up to LA to the Olympic Auditorium and,along with the Roller Derby LA T Birds,put on for the fans a make make-believe world that seemed believable. The old time movie actor,Dick Lane, announced the wrestling and the Roller Derby on KTLA TV.He did as good an acting job as I remember him playing" Inspector Farraday" in those old Boston Blackie movies with Chester Morris. When Mr. Moto would blindside a good guy like Edourard Carpentier,Lane would pull his hair and look up at the rafters."Whoa Nellie!"

The wrestling matches in San Diego weren't televised,but they were always a good draw. The kids liked the grapplers so there would be about even numbers of dads with their offsprings whoopin' and hollern' from the wooden bleachers. Just after the war Mr. Moto was ripe to be a "bad guy",but Moto was a bad guy in LA,not in san Diego. the "bad guys" in San Diego were Freddie Blassie and his often tag team partner Don Manoukian. Manoukian called everyone he didn't cater to a "Pencil Neck Geek."We actually loved him for that. (Sell those tickets!)There was also another "heavy" who wore a mask,The Destroyer.Between these three ogres they would go round and round with the "good guys"-Carpentier,Tricky Rikki Starr,Art "Sailor" Thomas,ex pro pigskinner Ernie Ladd,and and my favorite,Argentine Rocca. I remember seeing Andre The Giant once at the Coliseum,. He wasn't a regular,but when he got out there there wasn't a ticket left to buy at the window.Inside the arena,behind the snack bar,there was a giant picure of "the Giant" looking like an onerous King Kong.


The thing though that cracked me up was that all those wrestlers I saw walking out of that smelly mold infested locker room ready to practice rumbling at the San Diego Coliseum were friends with each other. They'd leave the locker room,that reeked of Old Spice,together arm in arm wearing the sport coats and the Hawaiian shirts opened down to the chest hairs laughing and carrying on like life was only 2 out of 3 falls.Then they'd get up in the ring and choreograph their routines with shouts and slaps being the signals to execute the next move.It was all faked,but those guys took some hard tumbles too. In the end they physically wound up as bruised and battered as their cousins ,the fighters. They didn't get punchy like the fighters but the massive amounts of drugs,alocohol,and pain killers they consumed often put them in grave sooner .Now with the PEDS that the wrestlers felt they needed to take to get an edge are killing them off faster than if they were in a drug war in Mexico.

It's all gone now.. Now you have to pay to see wrestling on TV that looks like something produced ala Star Wars. Boxing is practically finished. No more weekly cards.No more Olympic Auditorium. No more San Diego Coliseum. "Whoa Nellie"

The San Diego Coliseum after the lights were turned off

I didn't realize that Dick Lane was an actor with a lot movie, television and radio credits before being an announcer on the televised wrestling and Roller Games events at Olympic Auditorium that were shown on KTLA each week. It appears that Dick was shrewd when it came to driving a hard bargain and investing his money. Yes, I remember him very well.

- Chuck Johnston

Chuck
In his movie credits Lane was listed as "Richard Lane." You know when we see those old movies with the Golden Era actors, the scenes often take place away from Los Angeles. I have to keep reminding myself that guys like Tracy,Gable,Bogart,Cagney,etc. lived in LA. and frequented the boxing matches from the Olympic.Dick Lane was part of that entourage.He was a perfect fit for Roller Derby and wrestling. Chuck,do you remember the Country /Western program the Spade Cooley Show that was also on KTLA? He played the part of" Little Britches."He was sort of a "sidekick".Lane had done a lot of work in "Oaters" before getting a gig announcing from the Olympic Auditorium.


WHOA NELLIE !

dagosd2000 wrote: ↑16 Jan 2020, 12:12 Chuck
In his movie credits Lane was listed as "Richard Lane." You know when we see those old movies with the Golden Era actors, the scenes often take place away from Los Angeles. I have to keep reminding myself that guys like Tracy,Gable,Bogart,Cagney,etc. lived in LA. and frequented the boxing matches from the Olympic.Dick Lane was part of that entourage.He was a perfect fit for Roller Derby and wrestling. Chuck,do you remember the Country /Western program the Spade Cooley Show that was also on KTLA? He played the part of" Little Britches."He was sort of a "sidekick".Lane had done a lot of work in "Oaters" before getting a gig announcing from the Olympic Auditorium.


WHOA NELLIE !

Roger, Spade Cooley's heyday took place before I moved to Southern California from Montana during the summer of 1962. I have known about Cooley, but I am more familiar with another Western Swing performer, Bob Wills.

- Chuck Johnston

Chuck1052 wrote: ↑16 Jan 2020, 15:58

dagosd2000 wrote: ↑16 Jan 2020, 12:12 Chuck
In his movie credits Lane was listed as "Richard Lane." You know when we see those old movies with the Golden Era actors, the scenes often take place away from Los Angeles. I have to keep reminding myself that guys like Tracy,Gable,Bogart,Cagney,etc. lived in LA. and frequented the boxing matches from the Olympic.Dick Lane was part of that entourage.He was a perfect fit for Roller Derby and wrestling. Chuck,do you remember the Country /Western program the Spade Cooley Show that was also on KTLA? He played the part of" Little Britches."He was sort of a "sidekick".Lane had done a lot of work in "Oaters" before getting a gig announcing from the Olympic Auditorium.


WHOA NELLIE !

Roger, Spade Cooley's heyday took place before I moved to Southern California from Montana during the summer of 1962. I have known about Cooley, but I am more familiar with another Western Swing performer, Bob Wills.

- Chuck Johnston

Chuck
Bob Wills was THE MAN for quite a stretch in Western Music. Maybe one of the most underrated performers in the genre. Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys. What I liked about his band was that he featured(like many other groups at that time)steel guitars. The C/W groups today don't have a lot of steel guitars in their music anymore.He was even popular in the Midwest. My father told me that he and my mother would go to the Aragon Ballroom in Chicago and dance to his music. Right on with Bob Wills



Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys---Stay A Little Bit Longer

Blood,Sweat ,And Tears in Red White And Blue

When the Toronto Raptors won the NBA championship last year,the entire country of Canada was celebrating. Ok.Canada has only one NBA franchise. It was like the Toronto team was representing Canada. It was like a national team representing their country in the World Cup or the Olympics. I don't think one Raptor was born or a citizen of Canada. But since the Raptors are the only NBA team in Canada I can understand the enthusiasm. The Vancouver Grizzlies were part of the NBA in the 2001/2002 season ,but then relocated to Memphis,Tennessee. But even if the Grizzlies hadn't made the move and the Raptors were playing in the championship finals,I still believe all of Canada would have had their backs behind Toronto. Reversing the situation,there were a slew of Americans that were rooting for Toronto last year during the NBA finals. As good as the Golden State Warriors were,there were some personalities on that team that reminded people of those Damn Yankees. But I'm talking about a team sport and a championship team that was manufactured here in the USA. The Toronto Raptors were more or less a U.S. proxy.

But how about a one on one sport like boxing? When our Olympic champion Sugar Ray Leonard fought Roberto Duran there were boatloads of Americans who wanted Duran to win. Was it because Leonard was perceived as a "hot dog"? Was he too entitled? Or the obvious thing that comes to mind-he was black?

When Andy Ruiz fought Anthony Joshua the first time ,I was wanting El Gordo to upset the apple cart-and boy did he. The problem was afterwards Andy ate all the apples on the cart and then ate the cart. But I wanted Andy to win again because he was an American. Oh,I know at first glance El Gordo doesn't seem too Americano. More Mexicano. And he probably thinks of himself as being an orphan son from the country that looks like an upside down sombrero.

With time I've become more of a" home" country rah rah guy.If it's a team or a player who's an American I want them to win.Personalities have nothing to do with it. For example:Deontay Wilder rubs me the wrong way. While Tyson Fury,who's training for match number two against Wilder,is rubbing his cock masturbating 7 times a day(so he claims)doesn't fit my image of Marciano or Louis,I'm hoping Deontay gets his hand raised at the finish.But if Tyson walked and talked like a gentleman Anthony Joshua,it still wouldn't sway me.

So where's all this recent patriotism stemming from? Did Donald Trump open my eyes? Have my travels abroad and down below south of the border make me realize why so many people break their asses wanting to come to America? What would have been the result of Germany and Japan winning World War II? Would fighters of color ,or just the same, Americans,British,and their white allies; would they have had the right to become professional fighters? Or would a Samurai sword severed those dreams? Or a gas chamber make one choke on thot wish.That would only be little tragedies compared to what our short little miserable lives would have been.They say the "winners" write history. Imagine text books and libraries full of stuff about what a good guy Adolf was?

But Germany and Japan were mighty military powers. What would happen if the Third World countries had the upper hand? That would be something to put in the "Mythical Fight" category.As long as that idea is a myth the world will be saved from the apocalypse.Imagine if God waved his magic wand over a Third World country and handed them all the weapons of mankind? But that would never happen.Third World countries aren't military giants That's why they're mired in the Third World.. If the U.S. would go to war against a Third World country,the war would be over in one day,or it would be a farce like what's been going on in the Middle East for the last 17 years. But if we had used the H bomb in Korea for instance,then China and Russia would have launched theirs. Then it would have been a fair fight. A fair fight is always the toughest to fight. In war you want an advantage-hopefully a big one.I thought learning the lessons of Nam cured the U.S. from making those mistakes again. But they say "History" is the students least favorite subject. I should know.I tried to teach it for 25 years.

I've gone on a pretty good jag here. All this talk unfurled with the Stars and Stripes. You've read my relishing of my favorite fighter,"Mantequilla" Napoles. He sure wasn't Carmen Basilio.But what if Jose was around today?What if I set my time machine back to 1970? I guess Napoles wouldn't be my favorite fighter anymore.But wait a minute.Napoles? Maybe he had some dago blood in him.I guess I'd give him a pass.


Joe Louis-doesn't get any more American than that

Tamales

When I heard that Andy Ruiz was invited to Mexico City to meet the president of the country I shook my head. This was after Ruiz won the championship upsetting Anthony Joshua. With the history regarding Mexican heavyweights,maybe the president of Mexico,Andres Obrador,thought Ruiz(who is an American) was about as close as a surrogate Mexican would get to being the heavyweight champ of the world. When another Chicano,Oscar De La Hoya,was accumulating all those titles he never once was asked by the president or any other government official of Mexico to get the Red Carpet treatment.In fact Mexican nationals were a bit unnerved by Oscar being held in such high esteem in the United States. De La Hoya never won or defended any of those titles in Mexico let alone ever engaged in a boxing match South Of The Border. When he took Mexico's most prized treasure,Julio Cesar Chavez, to hock at the pawn shop twice, the aficianados wanted to put a bounty on Oscar's head. they would have preferred and loved if one of their own would have knocked Oscar off his pedestal,but it never happened.Oscar never lost to one of his Mexican "cousins." Oscar seemed to "own" every ilk of Mexican fighter around at the time.But when Oscar got into the ring with the big name boys:Mosely,Trinidad,Pac Man,B Hop,and Pretty Boy,Oscar went home with his head inside a paper bag. The only non Mexican fighters of renown he beat fair and square were Sweet Pea and Macho Camacho.. After those wins I thought De La Hoya was on his way to the Sugar Ray Robinson echelons. But something happened inside his mental makeup during the last two rounds with his fight with Trinidad. He played it safe.But he must have known at that point(rounds 11 and 12) that the fight was close. But Oscar got on his" bicicleta" and ran away from Felix. It was the beginning of the end for him. The chink in his mental armor became exposed. The whole world saw it including all those fighters I previously mentioned that beat him.

Oscar tried a myriad of different trainers to see if they could work a magic spell on him.But Oscar needed a shrink more than a trainer. Against his aforementioned conquerors he would show flashes of his prior brilliance-then he would stop.Oh,they built up those fights like it was going to be hammer and tongs,but in the end it was Oscar who got nailed to the cross.When Oscar was prepping to get ready for Manny Pacquiao even Oscar's former handler ,Freddie Roach,commented in public that Oscar had a "confidence" problem. After Oscar had had enough of Manny Pacquiao ,not wanting to answer the bell for round number 8, I got a laugh when ref Tony Weeks signaled the end then Oscar leaps off his stool and runs over to Manny to congratulate him.Brother!

When all was said and done with De La Hoya's fight career I'm sure Mexico didn't conduct a funeral march or proclaim a national holiday. I'm also pretty positive that the president of Mexico didn't send him and his Puerto Rican wife(Hey compadre did you hear that De La Hoya married a Puerto Rican mujer? Caramba!)to eat tamales at Los Pinos.

But Andy Ruiz can always look back and say,even to Oscar De La Hoya,that he got to eat tamales at Mexico's Los Pinos-the presidential palace.But since Andy lost the rematch with AJ looking like a burrito with boxing trunks I don't think the president of Mexico is going to invite him back again. Big deal. Why should Ruiz care? If the president of Mexico wants to see him he can come here and strap on the feedbag. But if Andy is serious about getting the rubber match with Joshua,he better take the "pres" to one of those vegan restaurants and forget about the tamales.



Oscar De La Hoya

Three Kids From The Neighborhood

Beryl Rosofsky, grew up during the 20's and 30's in the Maxwell Street neighborhood of Chicago,the Jewish Ghetto of the Windy City. Ross' father,who brought his family to America from war torn Poland, was a rabbi who opened up a vegetable stand in the neighborhood. Ross' father wanted his son ,Beryl, to follow in his footsteps and become a rabbi.He wanted his son to get an education and be a Talmud scholar. "Let the goyim be the fighters.We are the scholars. "he lectured Beryl.But his son didn't adhere to his father's mentoring.Beryl wanted to run with the kids that were in the gangs who took what they wanted instead of earning an honest living. One day Beryl's father was murdered during a robbery at his stand,His demise validated to Beryl that honesty gets you nowhere in the jungle. You have to be tough to survive.You have to be an animal.Playing by the rules gets you shot.

Beryl fell in hook ,line,and sinker with the neighborhood toughs from Maxwell Street and the Italian bullies from over on adjacent Taylor Street known as The Patch.. As a young street thug he ran errands for Al Capone. He was treading at the bottom of the food chain of organized crime,but that was the path he chose to walk on. One of his boyhood chums in this illegal world was a kid by the name of Jack Rubinstein.Around that time another kid,this one a dago from Little Italy named Giuseppe Esposito, was also getting himself caught up in Chicago's Outfit-The Second City's name for the Italian Mafia.

All three eventually anglicized their birth names. Beryl Rosofsky became Barney Ross. Jack Rubinstein would be known as Jack Ruby. After serving in the Marines, Guiseppe,at his wife's urging,was legally Joe Esty. All three kept touch. Because Ross and Ruby were Jewish and my father,Joe Esty was Italian, the bond was mostly on a name basis. the Jewish Mafia was organized in New York,but to be a made man in the Outfit you had to be a son of Italy.

When the war broke out all three enlisted to fight the Japs and the Germans. Ross joined the Marines .At the Pacific's first big land battle,Guadacanal,Ross and three comrades got into a firefight with two dozen Japanese soldiers. Ross' pals suffered wounds from gunfire. Ross then single handedly killed all the Japanese soldiers in spite of getting shot during the melee. Ross then carried the only surviving Marine from the battlefield to safety. He got the Silver Star for that.

Ruby joined the Army.He wanted to show everyone that "Jews are tough." He was an aircraft mechanic and got an honorable discharge.

Joe Esty ,like Ross,joined the Marines and was one of only 3000 Marines who fought at Peleliu and Okinawa. They earned the name ,The Old Breed.

After the war all three returned to Chicago. Because Ross had been treated with morphine because of his wounds,he became addicted to the drug. He fought a long kind of another battle finally kicking the habit.Ross became the subject of the movie Monkey On My Back-the story of his life and his struggles with drug addiction. He went on to lecture at schools about the perils of using narcotics.

Joe Esty ,when peace was declared,went back to the Outfit.But since he was looked at as a "war hero" by the Mob,he graduated to bigger and better things within the organization.He was an "earner" instead of a day by day goon.

Jack Ruby,was The Outfit's proxy in Dallas operating a strip joint, made a bad name for himself by shooting Lee Harvey Oswald in the basement of the Dallas police station when they were in the process of transferring Oswald across the street to the county jail.

When they pounced on Ruby ,after he got off the fatal shot, his name was soon announced on the news.During that chaotic time of the assassination and Oswald's murder,just about everybody was glued to the their living room's TV sets watching events unfold. My family was no exception. When my father saw the photo of Ruby and his name being broadast to the world,my father snapped back.
"Hey.I know that guy. He's Jack Rubinstein. He used to run around the streets in Chicago.He palled around with Barney Ross the fighter."

Ruby liked being seen with Ross because he was a fighter and he was Jewish. Ross reciprocated their friendship by testifying as a character reference on behalf of Ruby when he was being tried for taking care of Oswald. I don't want to get into the conspiracy theories of the JFK assassination. Let's just say the Warren Commission left some things out.

When The House Select Committee On Assassinations convened in 1976 to reinvestigate the JFK assassination three crucial witnesses never got a chance to take the stand:Sam Giancana,Chuck Nicoletti,and Johnny Roselli.All three had links to the killing of JFK.All three were found dead before they could testify.No one was ever prosecuted who might have had a hand in their deaths. My father,when he was working for the Outfit in Chicago ,was controlled by his boss Sam Giancana and ran with Nicoletti and Roselli. The CIA and organized crime are strange bedfellows. I often think if my mother hadn't talked my father into moving out to California to get away from "The Life",maybe my father would have been one of the "Dead Witnesses." He could have written a book about it.


Sam Giancana

Going Back Blind

How many times have us old guys thought about turning the clock back if that were possible? Give me the good ol' days when life was simpler. Less complicated.You could live life full measure. Now everything is moving too fast. Whoever invented the microchip should be prosecuted for making the world go neurotic. If they asked the average bloke on the street who was the smartest man who ever lived 9 out of 10 would probably say Einstein. I'd might have answered Einstein awhile back,but to tell you the truth I ain't that smart to tell you what he did.No,it was the dude that invented the microchip. He started the chaos.

Angst seems to be in everybody's mantra today. With all the modern conveniences why isn't better than it was before? But I'm talking about myself though I've heard others lament for the past too. I know I didn't have to struggle with arthritis when I was younger. I can still get it up ,but I wouldn't qualify for any porn movies unless I wanted to be on the receiving end. No.Give me the good ol' days. But then I got to thinking about that. I definitely wouldn't want to get in a time machine and go back to the place where I was enjoying life full measure. If I knew back then what I know now would wreck everything.Being innocent and free comes with being naïve. I sure ain't naïve anymore. Skepticism runs through my head like a leaky faucet.

I'll try to incorporate boxing with some comparisons. I'll offer up a "Mythical " interview with a blast from the past-Joe Louis.
"Well champ,are you ready for your rematch with Schmeling?"
"I'm as ready as I can be.I've trained very hard .I won't feel like the champ until I beat Schmeling."
With that said I don't want to have in my mind Tyson Fury's remarks about how he's getting ready to fight Wilder by beating his meat seven times a day." It keeps my testosterone levels up."
I'll try one more.Dr. King taking the stand.
"Reverand King, How do you see the future of the Civil Rights movement progressing?"
"Darkness cannot drive out darkness.Only light can do that.Hate cannot drive out hate.Only love can do that."
I wouldn't want to ask him that if I had floating in my head the time Al Sharpton remarked"Dr. King's general principles are universal,but the things he confronted took place in another era."

No.No.No. Going back in time must have a stipulation. "You can't bring with you what's happening today." If it's listening to some blowhard like Tyson Fury or Al Sharpton,or having the experience of not having to get out your easy chair to switch the channels on the TV by using the remote would ruin those images of sweet youth. I'm spoiled and bummed out at the same time.

But here I go again. I haven't thought it through. There were millions back in the day that had it pretty bad just like there are multitudes now that live on a diet of pain and suffering.So I guess I was lucky having both parents that stayed together. Playing Little League. Getting an allowance. Having a car. I was more fortunate than a lot of others.

So if I could go back in time I wouldn't want to know what I know now. And for sure I'd leave my arthritis at the starting gate.



Happy Birthday To You

Searching For Godot

I don't go to the Helping Hands Of God Church anymore.That's the Evangelical church where James "The Heat" Kinchen is a one of the four reverends.The church is a modest white painted stucco building located on the corner of 63rd Street and Imperial Avenue. I think the building was once a thrift store.I was the only white person who attended on a semi regular basis..I'd go every other week.I I could tell that more or less the same people have been bringing their Bibles every Sunday for years. I'd count the number of attendees .Anywhere between 30 and 50 , mostly the same faces. Once in awhile a homeless person would walk in in the middle of a sermon. That never bothered anyone.

The Helping Hands Of God is located out in suburb of Encanto which is on the far eastern edge of San Diego.It's one of the last predominantly black areas.Before things got under way I'd mingle with the other churchgoers.The conversations were always very casual and friendly. I always felt relaxed sitting in the back listening to the reverends orate their sermons. Their messages held their parishioners' undivided attention.The small band ,comprised of a lead guitar,bass guitar,electric piano,and drums played with intensity that always got everyone in a rapturous spiritual mood.Reverand Lewis would get the microphone and belt out spirituals on the wings of an angel.. He remined me of the blues singer Albert King. I told him that and he smiled. Announcements would be made by different parishioners telling of upcoming events like gathering food and clothes for the homeless or the passing of one of the devoted. Sometimes other Evangelical churches in the community would consolidate their efforts for a worthy cause or just a social gathering. I was approached to attend the Tuesday and Thursday meetings with the men of the parish. I never went. I got up to the podium and said a few things about God and having faith.I wasn't over the top or anything. I wasn't trying to put anyone on.I think everyone saw that and I'd hear a lot of "hallelujahs"when I was done.

I didn't see much pretentious displays of inflated egos amongst the flock. Most of the parishioners were elderly,but they tried to make a point of involving the children to attend and be a vital part of the ceremonies and activities. There were several women who would rehearse the children during the week so they could recite or put on a little show regarding the Bible and the Lord..The women were very concerned about those kids. They were fearful that the youngsters would get caught up with a bad element or be the victims of bullying.

I've got knack of putting myself in others' environments and cultures relishing their strengths.I never felt that I forced myself to be there ,and I think the others saw that I was comfortable and liked being there too. After awhile the color of my skin was inconsequential. I never heard anything about politics or racism. Trump's name was never brought up.But maybe all that was withheld when they saw me sitting there.I don't know.

To my surprise I was the only one who had a frame of reference of James Kinchen's professional boxing career.I don't know if the other men felt threatened by that so James wouldn't talk about it..When I attended I rarely heard James mention his fights or fighting in general. I would sometimes broach the subject to him and he'd always field any questions or topics in a cordial, sincere,and friendly manner. He was definitely on a mission of God. He was always there with his wife and kids every Sunday.Boxing was something he didn't keep up with anymore he told me.

So now you're wondering why I stopped going.First of all it had nothing to do with the parishioners.It bothers me to think because everyone is Black that that had something to do with me coming anymore. To be honest I got scared. At the end of the service the reverends would ask if anyone was having difficulties coping. Many would then rush to the front and have the reverends place their hands on their heads and give them fruit juice out of a paper cup that symbolized the blood of Jesus.I could see that those people(which was nearly everybody)were very frightened and distraught. Some would collapse and need to be picked up.They wanted something from the Lord so they could feel safe and happy..They desperately wanted to be saved.They wanted a miracle. They wanted to know that there was a life after this one on earth where there was no pain and suffering.

I couldn't watch that anymore without it tearing at my insides. There was such a feeling of despair that it overwhelmed me. It's not that I didn't feel their pain because I was in pain too.But that wasn't the way I wanted to confront it. I'm still searching for the answer.

About a month ago I got a call on my cell phone. I saw that it was James Kinchen. I refused it. I didn't want to explain to him about how I felt. I knew that if I did he'd say he'd pray for my soul. That's the kind of guy he is.

Taking A Little Off The Top

Just Off The Top Of My head:The last "No Decision" contest I saw was the recent Andy Ruiz/Anthony Joshua fight. Wait a minute!That wasn't a "No Decision" fight you say. Joshua outpointed Ruiz to regain the title.For me it should have been called a "No Decision" .Remember all those great fighters of the past like" Philadelphia" Jack O'Brian,Benny Leonard,Ted "Kid" Lewis,and Jack Britton?Their records are peppered with "NDs" besides many of their bouts.They ought to start doing that same kind of thing again. Nowadays I see that many of those former "NDs" have been converted to "NWSs",or "Newspaper Decisions." But is that a fair assessment? For decades the Sam Langford/Stanley Ketchel fight was listed in Ring Magazine resulting in a ND. Now I see in the BoxRec archives it's printed as a "win" for Sam via what the reporters determined sitting ringside at their typewriters. But how many of those scribes were paid shills for certain fighters and their managers?But it galls me that such an important fight like the second Joshua/Ruiz encounter would HAVE to be decided one way or the other.Sure,I guess Tony outpointed Andy,but this fight for the heavyweight championship had about as much action as two land tortoises making it with each other. But it would have been a travesty to have scored it a "draw." For the referee to have warned both men for "inactivity" ,and then not responding, calling the fight off would have been closer to the truth. If there had been a pre fight rule justifying a "ND" I would have agreed with the judges if they had scored it that way. But for sure that wouldn't have prevented mountains of controversy not to mention what Las Vegas would have to say.

Can't believe what's going on with this talk of a second Pretty Boy/Ugly Conor proposal. To be fair let it be a MMA battle this time.But McGregor would kill him. What does Mayweather know about fighting without The Marquis De Queensberry in his corner? McGregor,however,certainly was out of his element trying to box with the best boxer in the world at that time? But promotors throw the bait out and there's enough suckers who,in the words of Texas Guinan,want to put their wallets on the bar. If that thing ever comes off I know I'll do my drinking at home in front of the TV set watching Lawrence Welk.

The other day someone who reads the thread asked me how I can write almost everyday and come up with something. I responded by saying that I like to hear myself talk -until I hear the replay. I never go back the next day I read what I've write.It bothers me. I enjoy posting. For most of you I think you can sense it's a therapeutic endeavor if nothing else.My topics are metaphors for what's percolating inside my head. A catharsis I can release with the tips of my fingers on the keypad. It's also a hell of a lot cheaper than paying a shrink 400 dollars an hour for a session.


Floyd Mayweather Jr.

Roguery And Rope

More than any other sport, boxing necessitates that a training camp can't allow any traitors inside the gym. Boxing may not define a "team" sport,but a fighter works with a multitude of managers,trainers,sparring partners,and various camp followers that meld into a kind of family. If there's a rabble rouser in the midst he'll stand out like bloody nose. A training camp is a serious place with a focus on what needs to be accomplished for their fighter to win. On the other hand there also has to be a vein of levity to dissipate the stress.

Dick Saddler would bring his upright piano to training camp and after the evening meal would sit down and tickle the ivories with his favorite blues medleys for his fighter's "family".. Training is tough enough.A mischief maker can wreck things. Fighting is a no nonsense endeavor. The first words of sarcasm from some subversive clown will find that instigator packing his suitcase with a bus ticket in hand. and hopping the next bus to get out of town.

I've always thought Oscar De La Hoya's failure to stick with one diehard trainer resulted in him losing his 'big" fights. Checking his menu of trainers(Emmanual Steward,Gil Clancy,Freddie Roach,Floyd Mayweather Sr.,Nacho Bernstein,and Angelo Dundee)they evidently couldn't gild any 24 karat on the Golden Boy. Once asked why Oscar was hiring and firing after every fight he responded that having all these distinct trainers was like having a "tossed salad mixed with so many different styles"that will blend his talents into a 5 star Galloping Gourmet.. With a different team in his training camp, on a fight by fight basis, did nothing but dilute his effectiveness. It showed that he was searching for something he never found in himself-confidence.He even admitted that after the Trinidad fight he was never the same again. He imagined he was ahead in the Trinidad fight entering the 11th round so Oscar got on his bicycle and "boxed.". He not only gave the fight away,he let go of the rope. He never found his grip again.

I remember the day when Arnold Palmer and Jack Nicklaus were head and head as being recognized as the world's number one linkster . After both going hammer and tongs ,Arnie eventually faded from the high echelons of the sport. Years later I heard him comment on his golfing demise.He said that during a major tournament he just "gave up".The pressure on him winning made him let go of the rope. Arnie didn't want to feel deal with that pressure anymore.He never won another major tournament again.

But not wanting to compete with intensity in golf means you don't make the cut. In boxing, if a fighter doesn't want to give it his all he winds up with dementia.


Freddie Roach

Payaso

When Jorge "Maromero" Paez stepped into the ring I thought it was some kind of stupid joke. A fighter doing somersaults and wiggling his behind in the ring and wearing boxing trunks that hung down to his ankles and then with slits that ran up both sides of his legs to his crotch. Then there was the spiked hair and the rhinestoned robe. I said to myself"This guy is a Mexican.They'll laugh him out of the ring." The aficianados want to see the macho killers not a clown.But when he hopped into the ring the aficianados warmed him to their hearts. I was puzzled.Then slowly it began to come together.

I began to grow familiar with his backround.He was born poor in a furnace of a burg in Northern Baja,the state capitol, Mexicali. He used to get into a lot of fights when he was a kid.(Doesn't just about all fighters share this trait?).His grandmother had one of those little traveling circuses that are common in Mexico and go around setting up their tent in the sea of pueblos scattered all over the republic. He became a part of one of his abuelita's acts. He dressed up as a clown and did acrobatic stunts and acting the fool to get people to laugh with him or at him.. He liked to tumble and do flips thus getting the nickname "Maromero" which translates in English to somersault. He took up boxing when he was 19 with only three amateur fights under his belt.His first pro fight was in the neighboring town of San Luis Clorado,another oven in the Mojave desert.

Romulo Quirarte ,who runs the big CREA gym in the El Rio section of Tijuana, told me once that he instructed the crude "Maramero" in the finer points of the sweet science.After a few years doing somersaults and fighting in Baja California rings,his ability and showmanship caught the eyes of the promoters in El Norte.

He fought a lot-over 100 fights. He was good enough to win a couple of those sketchy titles.He became a familiar face in the Southland and Las Vegas. However,against the very top guys he couldn't beat. De La Hoya,Whitaker,Genaro Hernandez to name a few. But it wasn't so much that he had a big fan base that lived and died for him to win. "Maromero" was more entertainment than fighter.He was in a way a symbol.When he finally hung up his Reyes boxing gloves his boyhood charm sent him into a different direction. He became a film celebrity in Mexico and also had some bit roles in several Yankee productions,.Even a bigshot like Jerry Buss who owned the mighty LA Lakers took a liking to the clown from the desert. Buss gave him one of his NBA championship rings.Something clicked when people realized that Paez being a fighter was only a part of a larger role.

So did I finally get an understanding of what the "Maromero" mantra was all about? Yes,and it's as bittersweet as life can get. I don't think Mexico took his fighting to the level that he was going to be placed on a royal seat besides legends like Ruben Olivares and Julio Cesar Chavez."Maramero" was the Mexican metaphor for something that permeates Mexican culture: death being something that can't be avoided and to demonstrate not to fear it thus going onward and not to destroy the joys of living.Instead of ignoring it or attempting to hide from it Mexicans joke about death as it were a comic ritual. Enter "Maramero" Perez.

"Maramero",the clown,el payaso, whose purpose was to make people laugh inside and outside the ring.Maybe he was the strongest of them all.

Ali's World A Stage

I like going through the other threads. I see one on what would have happened if Ali hadn't had his license revoked because of his mess with Uncle Sam. The question is would an Ali ,still on top of his game,beaten Joe Frazier in that Fight Of The Century? There's good arguments on both sides. One thing that's clear is that Frazier wupped Ali good that night at The Garden. So what happens if Muhammad had filled up his schedule with defenses for those 3 and a half years of inactivity instead of just going around making speeches on college campuses and meeting with his attorneys? I say Ali beats Joe,but Muhammad has to dig down deep and draw on every ounce of his remarkable skills and mental grit. A 15 round decision for The Greatest who could still lay claim his sobriquet But there would have been a time when those reflexes and legs would have resembled another great fighter by the name of Sugar Ray Robinson ,who after sitting it out for a good stretch after losing to Maxim,could not get the neurons from his brain to send messages to his body in time in order to fight like he did when Sugar tasted his sweetest.

We all saw how Ali could take it after he came back to the ring.All the doubters like Cus D'Amato who questioned Ali's chin(What if he got hit by Joe Louis?)had to eat crow and shake their heads. I don't think there was ever a comeback heavyweight who absorbed more punishment than Muhammad Ali. He was put on his backside only four times in his career,but was up back on his feat faster than you could say "oops". Coop stung him a good one ,but that was the before the banishment when Ali could get on his bike and clear the cobwebs and beat Lance Armstrong to the finish line.

After The Fight Of The Century was when the outcomes became controversial:two of the Norton fights,.Jimmy Young,Spimks the second time.Ali also filled up space with some real yawners:Lubbers,Wepner,Evangelista,Bugner. But now Muhammad had a new weapon to bring with him into the ring. That edge was his "name." Looking back on all those fights what would have been his record if Muhammad had the personality of a Ken Norton? Jimmy Young? Leon Spinks? Even giants like Foreman and Frazier? Would he have prevailed in those close decisions? How many points would have been deducted by Carlos Padilla for Ali holding Joe behind the neck in Quezon City? He could have got DQ'd but he had that name,his wild card every time he fought after coming back from retirement.His rep.His mouth. Call it his charm.Ali was the most recognized face in the world. He was a champion to the underdog. He made headlines.They wrote books and songs.He was on TV more than All In The Family. And all the documentaries.60 Minutes with Ed Bradley.We couldn't see him kicked to the curb to a Ken Norton or a Jimmy Young. In order to keep him alive we had to make believe that he was STILL The Greatest. It was Ali the orator that kept that bubble from getting pin pricked until Holmes brought his saber into the ring and almost killed him.And then there was one more time,maybe to go out a winner,,against Berbick, and now his following had to wipe the tears away.

So if Ali wasn't such a showman,impish on one hand,biting and sarcastic on the other,always the center of attention,he might have shown a few more L's on his record. But he was always the lead man on the world's stage.A star that was never equaled in all of the heavens. Even a guy like Trump would get second billing if he had to act with The Greatest.



If "All The World's A Stage" I wish they would come up with a better script.

In Walked Mother

The La Mesa Penitentiary in Tijuana is located north of Boulevard Diaz Ordaz near the Caliente Racetrack. I had a friend who was locked up there on a drug beef. He was sentenced to a year so once a month I'd visit him. My friend's name was Bonifacio.Everyone called him Bonny(Bone-ee).Bonny was a taxista and on the side he was dealing coke. He was a big operator in TJ but then someone ratted him out because that someone wanted to fill Bonny's shoes when he went to the joint.

The La Mesa Penitentiary is essentially a square block of residences in the Colonia named La Mesa.If they took the prison walls down you would be able to see houses,apartments,and cell blocks. There are also various businesses inside that are run by the prisoners.There's a hardware store stacked with pitchforks and axes,a barber shop with straight razors,taco stands,convenient stores ,laundromats,a flower shop,and even a little place that sells religious icons that are all part of the composition. When one of these "owners" gets his release he sells his operation to another inmate.One thing to keep in mind.All business transactions are rewarded with a hefty gratuity to the cops upstairs.For recreation there's a soccer field that also doubles as a baseball diamond. Once in awhile a boxing ring is erected when the visiting team from the Mexicali penitentiary comes to do battle.

The big cartel honchos lived in the houses with their wife and kids. A school bus comes around in the morning and pick up the kids to take them to one of the schools near by.On the weekends the whores are let in to peddle their hips. All these endeavors have a price to pay and that "mordida" is kicked upstairs to the cops.On the bottom rung of the social ladder are the prisoners who either have no money or are sick with something like AIDS.They scuffle running errands for the prisoners that have money. Most of these unfortunates live in cell blocks.

Bonny lived in an apartment that he bought that was a room in a motel. Before I'd come for a visit he'd tell me what to bring him.He'd pay off the captain and notify him that I would be coming around with Bonny's usual fare of drugs and liquor.One time the captain had an UZI taped to his wrist.I think it was mostly for show,but he made his point.I'll never forget the time Bonny's wife came to visit him and when she was leaving she bumped into Bonny's girlfriend who had in her hands a big bowl of homemade soup. Well,the soup got as far as Bonny's wife's face.Seems the novia poured the contents on the wife's head and then the hair pulling ensued.

It was a Sunday and that afternoon the boxing team from the Mexicali jail came over to challenge the best of La Mesa's pugilists. There were a lot of people watching.The guards atop the walls had put down their AR15's to take in the action.The big shot narcos were standing in front taking bets. It was turning out to be a very festive afternoon. But then things got dicey. I was watching all this when one of the Mexicali fighters kicked the other guy in the balls for whatever reason. I saw in the crowd some pushing and shoving.Then some fists being thrown.And now here comes a guy with a pitchfork. I looked up to see how the guards were reacting and heard the clicks of the magazines being inserted into their guns. Me and Bonny took to the hills. I really thought there was going to be gunfire.But then like the Messiah coming to earth I heard people shouting"Madre!" and there was peace and quiet.it was unmistakable and unbelievable to boot.. Mother Teresa had entered the building.She had come down from her mission that was located at the city dump up the hill. It was there that Tijuana's most destitute lived .They lived off of everything that was thrown away. Those people were sick with TB and AIDS not to mention just about every other malady. But that's where Mother Teresa felt she was needed most.

Mother Teresa walked steadfastly by the boxing ring like it wasn't there and proceeded to where La Mesa' "lepers" had congregated. There was no more rioting.Not a word was said.It was understood that God's liaison was on the premises.Any more acts of violence would be punished with a mortal sin on one's record.

I never saw anything like it. I was sure that there was going to be shooting.But Mother Teresa came to the rescue just in the nick of time.There was a woman who didn't need to pack a gun to get people to see the light.All she came equipped with was her Rosary beads and a halo over her head.

The Windmill

Every time I've seen Ray "Windmill" White at one of the boxing conventions in the Southland he's always been very humble and appreciative. He makes sure he's attired smartly sporting a dark tailored suit and manicured fingernails. He circulates the room ,self effacing, looking inquisitively to see if there's a response by any of the multitude of boxing fans. From what I've gleaned from my observations is Ray seems to get the cold treatment.People know who he is but most pass by him without a offering a handshake.I think that bothers him. Ray "Windmill" White wants to be remembered as a good fighter,especially being a good boxer.I saw a few of his fights on TV and once against a young up and comer,Jesse Burnett.

Ray was built tall and gangly for a light heavyweight with long arms ,and on top of that he was double jointed. He parlayed his dimensions and attributes into a style that was for the most part defensive. He was a guy that was hard to get to.Seldom did he press an attack. He was also boring to watch. To offset his defensive tactics and his lack of a punching power Ray would often pull some antics during a fight that were amusing on one hand,but certainly didn't make him a crowd favorite.Utilizing his excessive flexibility he'd suddenly swing one of his lanky limbs behind his back extending the appendage at his opponent. Of course this ruse rarely struck his foe,and if by chance if it found a mark, the force of the maneuver was like a pat on the back.Thus he got the nickname,"Windmill."

Most of his 60 bouts wound up going the distance. Though his presence in the ring was unorthodox it also had aura of being kind of weird. Ray's skin was a white as his last name,his hairline looked like he was growing a new forehead,and to add more strangeness to his demeanor he never cracked a smile. It was kind of spooky.If he was trying to be funny Boris Karloff could have gotten more laughs. In Ray's corner was another mystifying character with a Snidely Whiplash mustache called Baron Von Stume. Together the pair could have been foils in one of those 50's Abbott and Costello movies. I can see the marquee now-Abbott and Costello Meet The Windmill and the Baron.

Ray's biggest chance to break out of the pack of mediocrity was his fight against Mike Quarry. The bout was for a state title and Ray lost fair and square. I remember the fight only because it was so forgettable. Ray White never was a big draw. His goofiness in the ring was a turn off. The scribes and the fans thought that horseplay in the ring was more suitable for the grapplers.Ray's mantra probably would have satisfied the wrestling audience more than the pugilistic ilk.

The one live fight I saw of Ray's was at the San Diego Coliseum against an undefeated Jesse Burnett. Ray started acting like he was getting shock treatments but I think he knew he was going to come out on the short end so he began flopping to the mat every time Burnett breathed on him. Then at the count of 9 he'd bolt up to his feet like nothing had happened. Sure,this bizarre performance got some to chuckling,but the chuckles were of the mocking sort. After acting the fool going up and down like a short circuited Jack In The Box several more times the referee, Frank Rustich,shook his head and told Ray he'd seen enough-and so had everyone else. Ray then leaped out of the ring and ran storming outside into the street not waiting even for the Baron to put on his robe. The fight is listed as a "KO" but it could have recorded as a DQ.

In the end Ray "Windmill" White can be remembered as a fighter who needed a better act. But I don't think if he'd been serious instead of delirious he would have achieved greater success. He'll be remembered for all the strange stunts and The Baron. He'll never shake that perception though I know that isn't what he wants people to recall when they bring up his name. One time at one of the boxing banquets we got to talking a little.He was very unassuming and polite. Then I brought up the time I saw him fight Jesse Burnett at the old San Diego Coliseum. His face contorted like I had just farted. I'm surprised he didn't leap over a table and run outside into the street.

The Windmill

When Life Was A Lot More Simpler

When I was a kid there weren't all these different titles and weight categories that you see now in boxing. I'm talking back when Floyd Patterson was the heavyweight champion(and Floyd was a little sketchy). If you were a champ back then, then you were the champion of the world. Today,it's a mess.

Back in the 50's the only reading material about boxing ,outside of what the local papers were printing,was Nat Fleischer's Ring Magazine and the Sporting News. Fleischer called his publication "The Bible Of Boxing."He didn't have much competition nor controversy when it came to sticking to his guns. When he said "Bible" it was an apropos moniker because when Nat printed his beliefs in his journal it resembled a preacher preaching to the choir. In his mind he was never wrong. And most concurred.His word was like scripture.

Fleischer made a list in 1972 of the ten best fighters in each weight division. He left out just about all the modern day and current fighters. These omissions were derived at because ol' Nat had been around in the days of Jeffries and Gans, and he saw these guys fight and most of us didn't so he thought he had an advantage.

In the bars and street corners were the topic of the sport was sparred around it was more or less taken for granted that Willard,Carnera,and Burns were the least reputable heavyweight title holders. Some even thought Tommy Burns was never really the champ because Jeffries decided to retire undefeated.Jeff announced that Burns and Marvin Hart should then square off against each other to decide who could inherit the belt. Burns won ,but eventually gets manhandled by Jack Johnson who's been chasing him all over the world to get him in the ring. Getting back to Nat. Fleischer thought that the Galveston Giant was the biggest giant to ever hold the crown,but keep in mind that he won the crown against what many believed was a champion of poor quality.In 1996 Tommy was voted into the International Boxing Hall Of Fame.

Carnera's bad rep was his connections to boxing's seedy underworld. How many of his fights were arranged in advance and so on? When I was a young fan getting hooked on the sport,to even mention Primo's name as a candidate for any kind of boxing hall of fame would have been the joke of the day. In 1990 the World Boxing Hall Of Fame inducted Da Preem.

Big Jess was certainly no rockstar on boxing's center stage. Everything about him:his physical build,his ability,and personality were about as alluring as a dried up cornfield in his native Kansas. He did his duty by beating that A hole Johnson but it didn't bring him many demands for his autograph. In 2003 the IBHOF included him in their honor roll.

So what I'm saying is today everybody has a good shot at being a champion in one of the multitude of boxing associations and getting inducted in one of the just as many boxing halls.It's getting watered down to the point that the names and places are either a blur or just forgotten. Give me the day when you knew who the real champ was and a guy like Tommy Burns would be put on the pay no mind list.


Jack Johnson

The Fall And Rise Of The Heavyweight Championship

Yesrerday when I referred to Floyd Patterson as being a "sketchy" heavyweight champion I think I should give an explanation. After 20 years of the heavyweight championship being dominated mostly by Joe Louis and Rocky Marciano a void was left in 1956 when The Rock had had enough of boxing with the grueling training regimen he had to endure because his short height, limited reach,and awkward movement. He had made enough money, he thought, despite becoming aware that his manager Al Weill was skimming off the top of some of his purses. He retired undefeated and, unlike Jim Jeffries, he would not try a comeback though he gave it a lot of thought.

It was concluded by Jim Norris,president if the International Boxing Club with ample prodding by Floyd's manager Cus D'Amato,that Patterson should get the opportunity to fight for the vacant heavyweight championship. However,Nat Fleischer's Ring Magazine(remember Nat proclaimed his publication "The Bible Of Boxing")had Floyd ranked as the number one light heavyweight! The opponent selected for Patterson was the former light heavyweight champion of the world Archie Moore. So instead of booking a fight for the light heavyweight title.Ring Magazine suddenly moved Patterson's name into the heavyweight rankings to the number five spot and Moore kept his weight above 175 pounds.

The title fight was a dubious affair,maybe a better word would be "sketchy".Moore was the favorite with the oddsmakers. He had stopped a hundred or so of his ring opponents. He had a string of boxing hall of famers that he had notched into his boxing gloves,and he was one of only two fighters that had put Marciano down on the canvas.The only hall of famer Floyd could put on his resume prior to his fight with Moore was Joey Maxim who gave the young fighter a boxing lesson handing Patterson his first pro loss.And it was Joey Maxim that Archie Moore brushed aside to finally win a world championship. He followed up beating Maxim two more times to validate his superiority. So naturally Patterson makes Moore look inept and look like a fighter who forgot to wear his trunks in the ring and knocks him out like a father beating his young son. Everyone was kind of looking at each other after that one(Oh.I forgot to mention that the fight was in Chicago )

So now the boxing world ,and especially in America,is waiting to see what will come next. Marciano even though he never lost a pro fight is slighted by some because of the "questionable" quality of his opponents. Charles and Walcott were great in their heyday but The Rock got to them when they were in need of an overhaul. La Starza and Cockell were pedestrian. But Floyd on the other hand had a trio of fighters that were chomping at the bit to knock the crown off his head. The three were Eddie Machen,Zora Folley,and Sonny Liston. All three were black and all three looked like they had the ability to beat the youngest heavyweight champion up to that time.But the Floyd and Cus show was putting those three aforementioned on the back black burner with the gas turned off. Instead we saw Floyd taking on a Cut And Shoot,a lantern jaw Brit,a Hurricane that was downgraded to a category one,and a fighter with no pro bouts under his belt.The heavyweight scene was in a flux.

This scenario brought to mind champion Jack Johnson's decision to draw the color line by denying the opportunity for the three most highly regarded contenders,Sam Langford,Joe Jeanette,and Sam McVey to take a swing at him. They continued to fight each other,but Johnson knew he could make more money fighting white guys. Besides,if two blacks fought each other the winner would be still black and that didn't sit well with a public that craved for the bygone days of vanilla. But we can say that that black rendition of Murderer's Row of the Turn Of The Century had experienced being in the ring with Lil' Arthur before Johnson humiliated Burns below the Equator.Just is Jack made them sit in the back of the bus when he was driving.

I remember when Eddie Machen flew to Sweden to fight a top contender that was little known in the States by the name of Ingemar. He was a familiar name in places like Gothenburg and Copenhagen ,but he'd never crossed the pond and fought in the U.S. let alone The Garden. I read the result in the papers. There were no photos in the paper I perused,only that Machen was stopped in one round. But that fight was so far away. No one saw it. Floyd and Cus would dangle a carrot and a bottle of Schnapps and get Ingemar to come over here to where the real men were fighting it out for the heavyweight honors, only Floyd hadn't really been doing that. Ingemar had a right hand they called Ingo's Bingo. He had gambled that punch on the head of Eddie Machen and cashed in.He anted it again against Patterson in Yankee stadium and won the jackpot. But to Floyd's credit he bounced back big time and won everyone over by clocking the Swede so hard that when stretched out on the mat his foot was twitching. The rubber go was another exciting fight and Floyd kept the title American.

But lurking in the background was a bear and he was very hungry. The boxing public was also famished. They knew Patterson got an unexpected wakeup call with Johansson,but now they demanded a fight with Liston who even Joe Louis said might be the best ever even though he was no official champ yet So they "fought" two times. Both fights ended under a trifle of 4 minutes.Floyd brought a mask with him for the second fight to wear after he left the stadium.. If the heavyweight picture was blurry after Floyd beat Archie now it was in need of a seeing eye dog. One of the big rubs was that the two "fights" were shown at the theaters for a price. Coming off the death of Paret, that everyone saw for free on national television, there was talk circulating about s--t canning the sport.

But then came a boxing Messiah.He came from a place called Louisville. He put boxing back on the front page instead of in the obituary column.


Ingemar Johasson.Remember his girlfriend that he brought over with him? I bet he bingoed her a lot

A Brief Explanation

I stopped by Champs for glass of beer that I usually nurse while waiting for my car to get handwashed next door at the carwash. Jeff the bartender was leaning with his arms stretched bracing on the bar.He seemed to be just staring at the wall. I snuck up and sat on the barstool across from him.
"You startled me,"he said to me as he jerked his hands off the bar and straightened himself back up."The usual draft?"
"You act like you're lost in thought,"I said.
"I was thinking about how this place needs a change,"he said as he tilted the glass under the tap and then pulled the handle.
"How's that?"
"That place that opened next door is getting a bigger crowd than us.It's cutting into our business,"he said as he put the glass of beer down in front of me letting the head settle.
"So what do you suggest?"
"We need to get some young girls working behind the bar and get some music in here on the weekends.We're behind the times."
"Have you talked to Shirley's grandson about it?"
"No.Not yet. I don't want to put my job in jeopardy."
"If Burke was still around he wouldn't change a thing,"I said with a huff.
"Burke didn't know how to run a business. He wasn't on top of things.It was Shirley who was aware of what was needed to get done.Burke just liked to drink in here and play darts."
"When he got the dementia he started to go down real fast."
"Fighters talk about getting it but when they finally get it they don't talk about it anymore."
"Just about every fighter that held on to something opens a bar,"I said.
"That's because they drink all they want for free and meet women."
"Drinking and women,"I said chucklng."That's bad combination for a fighter."
"It's a bad combination for anyone,"said Jeff laughing.
"I remember when Burke was bartending in here before they sold O'Brian's and then he went in on it with Shirley."
"He changed the name to Champs right away," said Jeff putting his hands back on the bar."By the way did you ever see him fight?"
"Once on TV.He fought Jose Torres in New York.That was before he came out to San Diego."
"What happened?"
"Torres broke his ribs. He was, at the time, on his way up.Burke was on his way down."
"Didn't Burke fight in San Diego?"
"He did but that was at the very end.I never saw him fight here."
Jeff took my glass,put it under the spigot, and topped it off.
"I read what you wrote the other day on BoxRec about how you never go back and read your stuff."
"I used to once in awhile but I don't even do that anymore."
"You said it bothers you.What do you mean?"
"When I start reading what I wrote it seems very foreign, like it's another person."
"Maybe that's another side of you that comes out when you write."
"You're probably right but I don't like it. It bothers me.It seems phony."
"Are you saying that what you write is phony?"asked Jeff with a slight grin.
"It's about as phony as I am sitting here talking to you."

A Brief Explanation II

"Why don't you write about Burke's career as a fighter?"asked Jeff as he began wiping the bar counter with a towel.
"I don't know that much about it.Besides, I think he left more of a mark his mark as a trainer."
"Archie Moore's son Billy used to come in here they say and talk to Burke from time to time."
"I saw Billy play football at Mesa College once. Moore was sitting in the stands by himself watching his son play.I sat down next to him"
"How did his son do?"
"Well,he didn't get in the game for more than a few plays."
"Was Moore upset?"
"No. He said his son was frustrated that the coach was playing his favorites but Moore kind of shrugged it off saying that's part of life."
"Did you ever see Moore fight?"
"Only on TV.When he won the championship he only fought a couple of times in San Diego. They were non title fights."
"Didn't you tell me that you used to help him out at his boys club?"
"When I first got my teaching credential I was working at a school for handicapped kids in Paradise Hills that was down the road from his boys club. Once in awhile I'd drop in after work and give him a hand."
"That must have been interesting,"remarked Jeff as he kept polishing the bar.
"You know something.He really looked old to me. Like he had shrunk.He had lost a lot of his hair.He looked old."
"Did you talk a lot with him?"
"No.Not really. He wasn't in there to talk a lot. He never brought up his fights. One day I ran into him at Huffmans Barbeque in Logan Heights and we sat there eating our lunch talking about music."
"What kind of music?"
"Jazz mostly. He wanted to be a jazz musician once. He traveled with Lucky Thompson's group,but couldn't make much money doing that so he returned to fighting."
"Well,he certainly was a good fighter,"said Jeff finally stopping wiping the bar.
"He really liked jazz.He told me that when he fought he thought in the ring like a jazz musician."
"How's that?"
"He told me that being a fighter you have to think fast. Something comes up.Something can go wrong. There's the unexpected.You need to change strategy.That's when he would have to think on his feet and improvise like a jazz musician."
"I don't get it but it sounds right,"said Jeff.
"He told me once that his favorite jazz trumpeter was Mile Davis.He said Dizzy Gillespie could play faster but that he liked Miles Davis better."
"Why's that?"
"He said it was the notes Miles Davis didn't play that were just as important than the ones he did play."
"Now you've lost me."
"He also said his favorite piano player was Thelonious Monk."
"I've heard the name,"said Jeff.
"He said Monk was a guy who played all the wrong notes and put them together to make sense.He was a genius.No one could do that like he did."
"Well,you've lost me again,"said Jeff picking up the towel again and wiping the bar."Can I get you another beer?It's on me."
"Sure why not?"

Thelonious Monk