BoxRec

Second Best

"You know who died today?"asked my wife walking into my room from the kitchen.
"No.Who?"
"Maradona,"
"I heard he was sick."
"He had tumor on his brain and they took it out and then he was fine but he died today."
I had never heard my wife bring up an athlete's name before.Oh,I take that back.I heard her mention "Raton" Macias once but that was because after fighting he became a Mexican movie star.She didn't care for sports and contests. It was something she didn't understand: why men got so wrapped up in it.Sports was something men liked to do.
"Pele number one.Maradona second best."she said.
That surprised me too but I didn't want to ask why she thought that way.It was probably something she heard somewhere.

They called Maradona "The Golden Kid" and remember watching him on television sitting in the Hotel Nelson bar in Tijuana leading the Argentine team to victory over England in a World Cup match and the two goals he scored,the first one he used his hand to help him and they referred to it as the "Hand of God" goal and then there was the second who many called the greatest goal in history.The championship game ,played against West Germany in Estadio Azteca,was all his again scoring and setting things up dribbling the ball like a a man possessed.When I watched the final,again at the Hotel Nelson,the bar was jammed and everyone was pulling for Argentina,and of course Maradona. Funny,Mexicans don't think much of South American countries especially Argentina.In fact the rest of south America thinks Argentina is a bit snooty with all that European blood and people with last names like Marconi,Von Krupp,MacFadden,and Cooke and how the Europeans there eradicated the Indians to separate that blood from theirs.But sitting inside the Nelson I guess if the Mexicans had to draw a line in the sand so they looked as Argentina as a cousin.

We here on the boxing forum I guess think more highly of boxing than what the rest of the world calls football.When I think of an athlete from Argentina I put Carlos Monzon alongside Maradana,but i don't think the rest of the world nor Argentinians feel that way.Boxing has their fanatics but not on the scale of soccer. Only Muhamad Ali transcended that image.

Eder Jofre was one of the all time great fighters but he pales in comparison to his countryman,Pele.My pal Chris James(when are you going to let me know how to get my hands on your bio of the great Jofre?)is lining up a visit with Jofre and Fighting Harada in April to come to LA for Rick Farris's West Coast Boxing Hall of Fame ceremony. Chris wants to do a day trip to San Diego with the fighters.I told Chris we'll all go out to lunch and do some friendly verbal sparring.

You know, if Pele ever came to San Diego I'd just have to read about it in the papers.


Eder Jofre

I Saw Buddy Baer Get A Wuppin' And It Wasn't From Joe Louis

He was called "Tex" Stebo .That's what Buddy Baer's name was in that Gunsmoke episode with Jim Arness playing Marshall Matt Dillon.Oh."Tex" was a big ornery cuss. A nasty man. For the fun of it he was on his horse and lassoed Marshall Dillon's sidekick Chester and dragged him through the streets leaving him for dead.Well,Marshall Dillon didn't take kindly to "Tex" Stebo's version of joshin' and went looking for the big varmint.

When Marshall Dillon finally caught up with the big brute he took off his gun belt and challenged him to a fight.A man of few words, the marshal told "Tex" that he if didn't get the best of him he wouldn't arrest him for what he did to his pal Chester and he could get of scotfree.Well,"Tex" Stebo was a big powerful Baer and said he'd surely oblige the Marshall to a fist fight. Well,they tangled good and hard and traded blows back and forth like The Great John L. and Jake Kilrain in their epic tussle in Richmond ,Mississippi.There was no dirty fightin'.No kickin' a man when he was down. It was all within' the code of the cowboy.

Oh.it was a mighty battle-"Tex" Stebo and Marshall Dillon.But in the end the cowboy wearing the white hat emerged victorious. "Tex' Stebo wound up face down eating prairie dust.It was lucky Chester pulled through.Marshall Dillon slapped the cuffs on "Tex" and rode him back to Dodge.The marshal could have easily outdrawn "Tex" face to face in the street but he wanted to square things with bare knuckles man to man.

Getting somewhat back to reality. Jim Arness was in his youth what they called a 'beach bum."He liked to ride the waves on his surfboard and sit around the bonfire and drink beer with his fellow surfers.. He had blond hair and they had to dye it black for those Gunsmoke episodes.He had a son ,Rolf Aurness.("Aurness" was Jim Arness's real last name) When his son was a kid he had some kind of accident that fractured his skull.His dad thought that surfing would be a good way to get his health and confidence back.Well,Rolf Aurness wound up being the best surfer around winning the World Championship in 1970. I remember seeing Jim Arness and his son Rolf at the local Ocean Beach Surfing Contest down in my neck of the woods every year.Yeah.they sure looked like a couple of Don the Beachcombers.

As for Buddy Baer:after fighting he had bit parts in movies and TV shows usually paired alongside with his brother Max.As for that fight scene Buddy had with Jim Arness in that Gunsmoke episode. I was sure glad Marshall Dillon got the best of him.But let's face it.Jim Arness knew that he wouldn't have stood a snow ball's chance in hell if he had tangled with Buddy Baer in a real fight



Jim Arness as Marshall Matt Dillon
.

Renounce The World

Mexico is famous for its tacos and the best tacos are in Tijuana.Maybe that's because the other traditional foods like carnitas,tamales,and pozole aren't as good in Tijuana as in other parts of Mexico.The best tacos (some referred to them as burritos)I ever ate in Tijuana were in a bowling alley called "The Bol Corona."The place was across the street from the Hotel Nelson on the corner of !st and Revolution.You had to walk up a flight of stairs to get up there. At the top of the door was a big neon sign of a bottle of Corona beer with a big green and white crown on top of the bottle cap. The bowling alley was in the back.I stuck my head in there a few times-maybe 8 or 9 lanes at the most.To get to the bowling alley you had to pass the bar that was
very small.Between the bar and the bowling alley was the kitchen were they made the tacos.The tacos were little and rolled up in a hot soft flour tortilla.The beef was shredded and boiled in a certain soup broth that gave them their unique flavor.They were only a dime so eating a dollars worth was a pleasure. I never got past the bar much. I'd sit there at the counter and have a glass of beer and eat the tacos.I never did any serious drinking at The Bol Corona and of course there was no music or any women.I was there for those tacos is all.

The Bol Corona was always very clean and so were the bathrooms that was a rarity in Tijuana. The owners of the Bol Corona were two identical twin brothers.There were from Argentina.I could never tell them apart.One was named Enrique and the other ,Phillip.They were a couple of small guys with small heads.both,thin and very white looking.Both had shiny bald heads and short cropped hair.Nothing prominent stood out on their faces.Small eyes,button noses,little mouths that had above pencil trimmed mustaches.Their hands were smooth and delicate and at the tips of their delicate fingers the nails we neatly clean and manicured.You'd think one of them would want to look different but they were like a pattern.They even dressed similar-startched buttoned up to the collar short sleeved shirts and tan colored slacks with the pleat and patent leather shoes.

I could never get those two's names straight even when they were both behind the bar so I never tried.One night I went in there to eat some tacos before I went out on the town.Only one of the brothers was behind the bar.
"How's it going tonight?"I asked either Enrique or Phillip.
"It's early,"he said in a voice that was hard to hear.
"I'll have 4 tacos and a bottle of Corona."
He didn't ay anthing.
"You guys must do a pretty good business,"I said as he went to the kitchen and then came back opening the ice chest and snapping off the cap on the bottle of beer putting it on a balsa coaster that had the place's name on it.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know of any other bowling alleys around."
"There's one on the way to the racetrack and another on the boulevard,"he said as the cook in the back put out the tacos on some wax paper on a small plate and set them on the shelf.Whatever brother it was put the tacos next to my beer and then put a small bowl of chilis in vinegar next to everything.The aroma of the rolled tacos stirred my senses.
"How long have you and your brother had this place?"I asked as I had a taco in my grip that I was about to stuff into my mouth.
"The bar is in our wives' names .They're Mexican.We are foreigners.We can't own anything this close to the United States border."
"You guys are from Argentina."
"Yes.We met our future wives when we were vacationing here."
"Do you miss Argentina?"
"Argentina is the best country in Latin America."
"Why do you say tat?"
"Everything in Argentina id better than the other countries in Latin Ameica.The schools,hospitals,the standard of living. The best athletes are from Argentina."
His arrogance was starting to get on my nerves.
"So why don't you and your brother go back to Argentina?"
"We go twice a year but the business is here."
"You must be a big fan of Carlos Monzon,"I said .
"Monzon is the best fighter in the world.Mexico thought Jose Naploes would beat him How foolish. And you wait.Bonavena will be the first heavyweight champion from Argentina."
"Firpo tried and lost,"I said trying to take the air out of him.
"Firpo was cheated.The reporters pushed Dempsey back into the ring.Firpo was cheated I say.He had won the fight."
"Brazil is still the best national team in football,"I said still trying to get the best of him."
"You just wait.We have this young kid,Maradona. He is the best juvenile player in the world.When he is ready Brazil will be only a footnote."
I had finished gulping the tacos and chasing them down with the beer.
"Well,I'm off ,"I said.
"Wait one minute,"he said as he leaned over the bar his face near mine.
"What's up?"
"You know they want us out of this place."
"Who wants you out of this place?"
"They want this spot."
"Who does?"
"I don't know.But I've been approached that if I don't get out they'll burn the place down."
"Have you gone to the police?"
"They say they will look into it but I know they've been paid off.I'm scared."
"Why don't you and your brother go back to Argentina?"
"Why do you think we came here?"
"I don't know what to tell you,"I said wanting to get away as far as possible.
I didn't know what else to say so I walked downstairs.

About a few months later I passed what was left of the Bol Corona. -nothing but charred ashes.It was an obvious torch job.You see then often in Tijuana.They do it at night and torch the place from the outside in real professional like. None of the places on either side are even smoke damaged.So I thought to myself, they got those two out finally.What took it's place was one of those off track betting casinos.That figured.But soon after that I was driving theww blocks east of Revolution Street on O'Campo trying to find one of those cheap repair places that fix up dents and do minor paintwork on cars.It's also where all the fish markets are in town with dogs running in the streets and cars double parked and a lot of homeless sleeping on sidewalks.As i was driving around I saw an old store front with a sign outside that read,"The New Bol Corona."There was a "Closed" sign on the door.

I didn't stop to ask if it was the two brothers' place.Besides,there was no room to park.Better off anyway.


Oscar Bonavena

Why Would Anyone Want To Watch This?

After my visit with Jose Napoles a few years back I got to thinking.Here was a guy who was a mean dude not only in the ring but outside of it as well.He carried a chip on his shoulder and when he got drunk that chip morphed into a boulder. He had a nasty disposition and thought nothing of screwing someone over.Taking advantage of the world was in his mantra. He formed a salsa band after fighting and was notorious for bilking the band members out of their pay. He just would say that he didn't have their money. You see "their" money had been bet feeding the horses after Jose had picked all losers on the daily racing card. He liked playing pool,especially inside one of the numerous bars where he was the proprietor,and if he couldn't hustle the the other guy he'd have him hustled out the front door into the street by his sidekicks. Lying and cheating came to him as naturally as one of his left hooks landing flush on the jaw.He never looked back and said he was sorry until near the end when he was old and sick and had to think about his past misdeeds.
"I used to be a dangerous man,"he said puffing away on his Cubano puro sitting outside his house in a rundown part of Ciudad Juarez."But I'm not that way anymore.I'm sick and frail and afraid.I can't hurt anybody anymore and I don't want to."

But a lot of boxing fans still want to think of their heroes as if these guys were still in their primes striking fear into the hearts of their opponents not only with their gloves but having them beat mentally ,so to speak, before the first gong.This so called "exhibition" between Tyson and Jones makes me scratch my head. If I was in my 50's and asked the commission to grant me a license to fight they'd give me a quick once over and say for me to forget it, that I'm too old.I might get tapped and it would be lights out forever.So why are they allowing these two graybeards to be in the ring. If you call it an "exhibition" it's OK?I know the diehard fans don't want to see these two play around.They want blood and gore.They want Iron Mike and Roy Jr. to be in a time machine. First of all I don't care how they prepare for this "exhibition". They are going to look their ages.Peoples' brains are wired differently when they wade into their 30's. A tap on the noggin' could wind up putting someone in the morgue. The thing that Tyson and Jones have going for them , in a peculiar way, is that they're so far gone I don't think either could inflict much damage on the other in a boxing match.But no,there are the ones out there that want to see Mike and Roy as they were when they were at the top of their game. It's a view through a skewed prism.

I used to like to bet on the nags at the old Caliente Racetrack in Tijuana. There was that thread about boxing being the most corrupt sport.Well,boxing takes a look at horseracing's rear end.They'd have broken down nags in those races in Tijuana that were 12 years old and older and that hadn't never won a race.They were shot up with so many painkillers and amphetamines that even up here they wouldn't stand for it.it was cruelty to animals if there ever was.Those nags didn't want to run anymore.They couldn't so they doped them up.

Well,we've got this "exhibition " coming up with Tyson and Jones.I don't think they'll have to dope them up.They just won't have anything left in them to give the public what they want to see. But if you pay to watch this then you're the one who is the dope.


Roy Jones Jr. way past his prime


Anyone for a friendly game of pool?

Thought I'd put this up.The last in a 3 exhibition series between Julio Cesar Chavez Sr,and Jorge "Travieso" Arce to raise money for a fighter's son who is going through cancer treatments.All proceeds going to the family. Chavez is 60.Arce 41.Both former champs though Arce in his day was a much lighter than J.C.. Both look around the same size today. This thing wasn't all hyped up by the sleeze ball promoters who wanted to sell the public a bill of goods like this upcoming Tyson/Jones affair in order to rake in millions for themselves with Mike and Roy getting their cut.Old fighters, like wine, mellow with age and fight like a bottle of 2 Buck Chuck.

To Each His Own

I remember when you couldn't get American booze in Tijuana. You couldn't get it anywhere in Mexico.It was against the law. So when the gringos went to Mexico they had to drink their stuff or what they allowed in from certain countries.The Mexican beer was all right.They sold mostly Tecate and Mexicali beer.The hard stuff was skimpy though. If you wanted whiskey they had this brand called Juarez whiskey. Even the Mexicans wouldn't drink it. There was Johnny Walker but that was brought in from Scotland and very expensive. More expensive than what the going rate was in San Diego.There was plenty of Bacardi.They made a lot of mixed drinks with that Puerto Rican rum. Then they had their own brands of brandies that you'd see on top of a lot of tables usually with liters of Coca Cola alongside.Presidente and Pedro Domecq were big sellers.They had a gin they called Oso Negro that was made from something that left you with a bad head in the morning.You had to mix that stuff with something to kill the taste.They also had a Oso Negro vodka that was just as bad as the gin. Then of course there was the tequila. it was a runoff between the Cuervos and the Sauzas.I liked the Sauzas. But NAFTA changed all that.Now you see American booze in the bars in TJ. and in San Diego you see all the Mexican names.

Not long ago I saw a familiar face walk inside the Hotel Nelson Bar one sunny afternoon.I wasn't in the mood for a drink but when I saw this guy go inside the Nelson. I followed him in. He used to be one of the local fighters in town and was pretty popular. His name was Chuy Cortez and I used to see him fight at all the local venues and got to know him when I'd go to the CFREA and watch the boys train. That was back in the glory years when Mexico had a lot of hot fighters and champions.

The bar was empty except for Chuy who took a stool near the door. I used to go in The Nelson a lot back then.The Nelson family owned the bar and the hotel. The sons worked the place.They're very proud of their last name-Nelson. I guess the grandmother was a Swede and it gave the family an air of aristocracy.The bar was curved and the lights were always low. A small TV was behind the bar up on the wall in the corner. They never had a jukebox. I planted myself next to the ex fighter.
"Remember me?"I asked as the the cantinero came over.
Chuy took a little look and then smiled.
"Of course.Were have you been?It's been a long time."
I was glad he recognized me but I could tell didn't remember my name.He still looked good. He fought welter and still looked like he could make weight. His face was long and dark complected.The smashed nose and the old scar tissue around his bushy gray brows and under his brown eyes told you he had been a fighter. His lips were thick and his floppy ears stood out like flags,His teeth were tobacco stained you could see when he smiled.He had a good warm smile.
"What are you having?"he asked me.
"You sure?"
"It's been a long time."
"A bottle of Tecate .No glass."
I'll have the same,"he told he bartender."
The bartender popped off the caps and set the long necks on napkins in front of us.
"You still see Sergio Rhodes?"he asked me.
"Not since the days I worked at CETYs."
"You know I admired you for what you did here.That was the first time a team from Tijuana beat a team from the U.S side."
"Thanks.I had a lot of fun there.Made a lot of friends.I would have stayed but the pay was nothing."
"I know what you mean.Can't blame you."
"My wife wanted to divorce me. I had a degree and was working in Tijuana."
The ex fighter chuckled.
"She's from Michoacan. and the ranch.They won't put up with foolishness."
"You ever start that ferreteria downtown?"
"I opened one in centro and have another in Playas. I'm doing all right."
In walked a guy and asked if he could use the restroom.He looked like a drug addict. The bartender said the bathroom was out of order.
"You know with all the fights I saw in Tijuana that fight you had with Kid Mochis at the Jai Alai Palace was the most thrilling I ever saw."
"They threw a lot of money in the ring after it was over."
"I never saw a guy come back like you did that night.I thought you were out on your feet but you somehow found it inside and knocked The Kid out."
"We both had to go to the hospital."
"Didn't you go up to LA to fight after that?"
"They had me in there with Luis Rodrigiez.He was the greatest fighter I ever fought.I tried to stay with him as long as I could but was no match for him."
A couple of American tourists walked in an asked the bartender in they had a bathroom.He pointed to where it was.
"How's your son doing?"I asked."I remember him at Cetys."
"He went to collge at San Diego State after that.He majored in engineering. He's doing good."
"Did he ever take to fighting?"
"No.He never liked it.Didn't interest him. He was a mama's boy.But that was OK.To tell the truth I don't think he ever got in a fight in his life.Even growing up with all the other kids."
Never pushing him into something he doesn't want to do is a good lesson for a parent."
"He likes surfing.Has a passion for surfing."
""Where did h get that?"
"He used to go to Ensenada with his friends that surfed.He took to it right away.He's been to Hawaii and all over the world to find big waves.Hell.I can't even swim.I'm afraid to death of the ocean."
"To each his own,"said.
"My son say he wants to go to Portugal to surf.He says the biggest waves are there.You know anything about surfing?"
"I used to surf but I wasn't very good but I had fun.As long as you're having fun the others don't bother you."
"My son says he's going to this place in Portugal."
"St. Nazare?"
"I think that's what he said."
"The biggest waves in the world are there.They reach to a hundred feet sometimes"
"Well,he's all packed to go."
"He's got bigger cajones than me."
"Me too ,"said the ex fighter."The water scares the hell out of me."

Two Spokesmen

After Charlie Parker died miles Davis became the most prominent jazz musician in The Apple.There were others that could play just a brilliantly,but because Davis took charge bringing musicians together and creating his type of
sound Davis stood out.Monk,Coltrane,Cannonball,Tyner,Philly Joe;they all played with him and it was kind of a musical partnership.It was "cool" to be Miles Davis.It was "cool" to play with him. It was "cool" to go to the clubs and listen to him play and buy his albums.

Miles Davis idolized "Sugar" Ray Robinson. Robinson was the class fighter in New York if not the whole world.Joe Louis was great but he blasted guys out of there with his short powerful punches that traveled 6 inches. He was a punching machine.It was sort of mechanical.But Ray Robinson had everything. Like a jazz musician's improvisations Robinson's style,abilities-whatever you wanted to call it was unequaled. Robinson was "up there" and all the others were somewhere below.

Both "Sugar" Ray and Davis were artists.And both knew it.They had an arrogance that could put people off but prople took it because they knew when they were with them they walked with genius. But like all geniuses both "Sugar" and Miles were mortal like every common man who bought the albums and sat in the arenas.. Davis,who was extremely jealous, knew he was beginning to lose his hold when jazz began implementing all the electric instruments into what they called "fusion."The sound was noise but the fake public bought the phoniness and Davis began to give into it. Instead of brilliant solos the stuff that came out of his horn was bulls--t.But by that time he was so strung out it dulled his guilt.

After Ray Robinson began losing to fighters in Tijuana and Hawaii the gig was up. He was a fighting wreck.You couldn't even call him a contender anymore though the faithful,like Ali's later,turned a deaf ear.When Robinson was matched with pitter patter joey Archer in Pittsburg some were saying that if Ray could win the fight he'd get another title shot.Well,Joey pitter pattered Ray so badly that he even dropped the old champ with a delayed action tap that landed somewhere around his shoulder.

Inside the locker room after the fight was over,Robinson lying on the table wrapped in towels, had a visitor.Miles Davis.He was breaking down.He knelt beside his idol.
"Baby it's over.You can't go on like this,"he pled.

The Archer fight was Ray's last.Too bad Miles Davis couldn't have realized the same thing in the end.



"Sugar" Ray Robinson



Summertime-Miles Davis

A Push Is As good As A Punch

My friend Gary Young ,who I told you about that was a pretty fair amateur heavyweight until he realized his limits after tasting leather from Mike Weaver, told me that he sparred one time with "Gentleman" Gerry Cooney in Arizona.Gary said that Cooney's left hook was the hardest punch that was ever landed on his frame. Weaver's hook was a good one but Cooney's was better.Gary said he stepped inside the ring with Cooney sometime in the mid 70's.This was before Cooney put everyone on notice with his three sensational KO's of Jimmy Young,Ron Lyle,and Ken Norton all in a row.

They talk about that Fight Of The Century with Ali and Frazier.Two undefeated champions with contrasting styles that the whole world was tuned into. I bet a lot of safecrackers scored big the night of that fight. But ,for me anyway,the fight was a let down. Joe came out smokin' and was in the best shape of his life,but Ali ,you could tell, had left his best skills somewhere in 1968 .No more floating on balletic legs.He'd back against the ropes,legs apart,and start winging. Frazier went right through him .If Ali hadn't gotten away with holding behind Joe's neck I don't think he would have lasted.

Later,when Larry Holmes almost literally put the final nail in Ali's coffin,it was now Larry that was the target everyone was aiming at. The question also was was Larry going to beat Marciano's 49 and O record?With Gerry Cooney cutting a path like a tidal wave through the heavyweight ranks the perfect storm was building to a Category 5.What gave it added significance was that Gerry was white.No one was afraid to say it under their breaths. "Gerry is the next white hope."

Holmes was a great fighter. In Manila when Ali was sparring with Larry it was like Ali should have been the sparring partner.Ali's jab was slower than Larry's. If it had been a face to face gun duel ala the OK Corral,Muhammad would be buried up on Boot Hill

The hype for the Holmes/Cooney fight was almost unbearable. All this "White Hope" stuff didn't help Cooney.He coud have gone without hearing that Madison Avenue pressure.But even some names in black society were doubting whether Larry could stand in there with Gerry's left hook.Bill Cosby was pickin' Gerry.

But I got to hand it to Holmes.All his prefight rhetoric was about how he was going to be on Gerry's chest like a Remora fish that sucks onto a shark. But it was Larry's time to shock the world. We've seen the fight so I won't be Captain Obvious so I'll be short with it.Instead of Larry sucking on Gerry's nipples(Now Larry used that analogy)he pumped his jab into Gerry's face like a Thompson machine gun.Cooney's big flaw was his balance ,or should I saw lack of it. He didn't know how to slip the jab and then come up and counter.Instead every time Larry started jumping the jab into his face Gerry would straighten up and try to reset himself. In the meantime Larry would start winging punches(he had that 3 quarters roundhouse right)and begin doing a tattoo job on Gerry's face.

You'd think Cooney's trainer,Victor Valle, would correct that problem. But when Gerry was trying to get back into a title shot by fighting George Foreman,Big George used similar strategy employed by Holmes except instead of using the jab Big George would shove Cooney back and off balance with his forearms.

Funny,I sometimes think a talent like Gerry Cooney would never attain immortality because he kept tripping over his own feet.

Larry Holmes

Citizen Moore

The first fight Archie Moore had with Yvon Durelle put him on the map.Ezzard Charles was a better fighter than Archie(Moore couldn't have wupped Charles in a thousand years) but most of us who were around back then remember Archie Moore.Growing up a kid in the 50's the fight on TV that everyone remembers is that first fight with Durelle.Moore parlayed that victory with putting his face out there to the public. He was on all kinds of TV shows like What's My Line? and Groucho Marx.He was in movies.They were even considering him for a Best Supporting Oscar for his performance in Huckleberry Finn where he played the runaway slave Jim.He was open with the scribes and they loved to sit around and listen to him talk of his honkytonk days of barnstorming around the boxing circuit fighting the likes of Runyonesque fighters with names like Piano Man Jones and Kid Pocahuntas.He'd always get asked about how old he was and with that Cheshire Cat smile he'd give a different answer every time.He was the third man at ringside for the broadcast of the Fight Of The Century with Frazier and Ali in Madison Square Garden.His ABC Club for boys was in the news all the time and Archie made sure in he was in the center of things when the cameras rolled and the stories went to print.With the World Of The Mongoose swirling around I sometimes wondered why Archie picked San Diego to call his digs.

San Diego,like I've said before,is kind of an end of the line whistle stop. Los Angeles will always dwarf san Diego. Angelinos don't even consider San Diego like a little brother.To them San Diego is something to look down on.The Dodgers will always rub The Padres' noses in the dirt. The pro football team ,The Chargers, began in LA,then came down to San Diego,but now are back up in LA.There's no big name football,hockey,nor basketball.Even the paper,the San Diego Union, is printed in Los Angeles. Then to mention the movie capital of the world is in Tinsel Town where every hopeful starlet and pro athlete would sell their souls to the devil to say that they bask in the sun with all the other beautiful people.I sometimes thought Archie was a fish out of water here. But no.After traveling all over the country and the world boxing Archie finally settled down in San Diego with his last wife and raised a family. He started early fighting at the Coliseum, and maybe after filtering it all out in the end, he saw that San Diego wasn't a place he could get lost. A town,not a city,San Diego was a burg that Archie could circulate and be a respected name in the community. He certainly wouldn't play second fiddle to any other athlete past or present. Ted Williams grew up in San Diego but after signing a major league contract he stayed away from this place like it had the plague.He wouldn't even visit his parents in the off season.

But as Time Marches On,today the name Archie Moore is more familiar to people as a name of a street.Bring up Archie Moore to anyone under 60 years of age and you'd get the classic blank look.But that's the way of the world. Only Ali will have a seat on the bus to eternity .And that seat will be at the front.


Archie Moore and Ted Williams


These kids are probably under 60 but I bet they remember Archie Moore

The Comeback Trail Is A Lonely One

I get tired of hearing about these fighters who want to make the big comeback They were finished at the end ,and now they want to make a comeback.They tell us that they can't get fighting out of their blood and that they'll get in the best shape ever and win back the title.Maybe they're trying to convince themselves so that they can convince us that these once former heroes,who many were living their lives through, will reset the clock to the days when we thought they would never lose.Or maybe they just need the money.

The only three fighters who came back ,yet two became a paler image of their former selves ,when we thought they we'd never see them back in the ring again were Ray Robinson,Eder Jofre,and Muhammad Ali. Robinson needed the dough.He wasn't making any big boasts.Jofre was the most successful.It was like never missed a beat. We saw him again as that indestructible force he was at 118 pounds but now fighting featherweight. Ali was waiting to get his appeal heard in the Supreme Court.He was chomping at the bit.

Robinson and Ali staggered back. When "Tiger" Jones came off his losing streak by roughing up Ray it became a pattern with him when fighting strong middleweights. He had more than he could handle. Ali's pins had lost the bounce. It was during his comeback that we saw that he could take it. Jofre hadn't missed a beat.

So those three,Jofre,Robinson,and Ali, came back and won some titles and made some money though Robby could never hang onto it for long.Then there are the other past greats who promise they will be great again because they can't get fighting out of their blood and they'll be as good as ever ,or even better, though it seemed they had had enough after they threw in the towel when they departed.Or maybe they just need the money.

But the media hype can sell the world a bill of goods that would make P.T. Barnum rise from the grave.The hype is like a commercial you see on TV. You can't go wrong by shelling out you money for what we are trying to sell you.And they're saying all this with a smile.

This sprinter Bolt,who won three Olympic Golds Medals in a row, failed to break his world record in the 100 meters in the last Olympics.He missed by one hundredth of a second. They asked him how he felt afterwards.
"I thought I could do it.It must be old age,"he remarked.
I'll bet you there will be no comebacks with this guy.

So now these "comebacks" are exhibition matches.Roy and Mike. They're going to be their old selves once again ,Only this time it will be an exhibition match.I guess if they disappoint we can say "What did you expect from an exhibition match?"They'll take the money and run.then there'll be a wait, and then another "comeback" with another past champ.Oscar is beginning to make some noise.An exhibition match or a legit fight.Anyway I look at it P.T. Barnum wants to be Lazarus.

Mike Tyson

To The Scorecards We Go

Some interesting comments on the "Post Your Scorecards" thread.Mike Tyson being ahead before Buster Douglass tore his head off. I'll go back to my guy,Joe Napoles,in the lead of Armando Muniz before the referee,Ramon Berumen, got the signal from his uncle Jose Sulaiman to halt the bloodbath and award Jose the victory on a foul.There's a lot of people that don't watch boxing because they think it's rigged like wrestling.Of course most of it is on the level but then there's a lot that isn't.

"Philadelphia" Jack O'Brien said after he retired that most of his fights were set ups. Then again Philly only had those no decision exhibition fights, but then the scribes,who reported the bouts in the City Of Brotherly Love, were greasing their palms by managers and promoters to "see" the fight and writing about it with their charges as the winners when everyone in the arena knew otherwise. But with no TV nor radio you had to get the dope by reading it in the morning chronicle. As Will Rogers used to say-"All I know Is what I read in the papers."

But even today,when the whole world is watching a fight on the tube,there's larceny before our eyes when we see the "wrong" guy get his hand raised in the end. Las Vegas is a bad town when it comes to scoring a fight honestly. But then if there was ever a Mecca for gamblers and swindlers,Vegas is right up there with the worst.But when you take a gander at the small town venues and along with it the home town decisions, I guess you could surmise the poorer the setting the more abject are some of the decisions.I mean some small burg in some impoverished country doesn't have a lot to cheer about.The crowd is certainly not going to give some Johnny Come Lately who blows into town any benefit of the doubt.

When Burke Emery told me that he was going to take his guy,Art Hafey,down to Monterrey ,Mexico to fight Ruben Olivares I told him Art would have to knock out "El Puas" if he was going to win.Well,I don't think Olivares as in the best of shape that night,but Art always was ,and in the 5th round Hafey dug a left hook into Ruben's "panza" that sent his mouthpiece across the ring and landing in the bleacher seats.

I've told you about the time I saw Jimmy Young come in from Philly(that burg's name comes up a lot when discussing the morality of boxing)to fight the local hero.Both boys had around eight fights between them.The local guy(I ain't gonna' mention his name cause he thinks everything was on the up and up)comes out at the opening gong and before you can say" Ben Franklin" Jimmy has put the local hero on the seat of his trunks. He gets up and this time before you can say "Liberty Bell" he gets cracked again by Young and finds himself eating rosin. Somehow he finished the round only because Young didn't want to throw anymore punches.Well,the crowd is going ape and to tell the truth I wanted Young to win anyway.These two guys old guys sitting in front of me must have heard me talking and one of them turns around and says he wants to bet me 20 that the local hero will remain undefeated. Their bent fedoras and striped sport coats should have tipped me off so I said "You're on."In round 2 I thought I'd be collecting my bet but before the frame ended I knew I had been duped.Jimmy Young fought with his hands in his pockets. it went the scheduled 6 and at the end I was reaching for my wallet. Then the old timer that I made the bet with turned around and smiled his tobacco stained teeth at me and laughed.
"Keep you're money sonny.It was all fixed."

I also think of the fighters that could have been in the back seat of that cab talking to their brother Charley saying "I could have been a contender if you'd looked out for me."My father would always bring up Bob Satterfield. My father told me that Satterfield went into the tank more than Jacque Cousteau.Some fighters,like Satterfield,never even got a chance in the beginning.But what were they going to do?They had no education.They were surrounded by liars and thieves who pretended to be looking out after them .These fighters either went along with the program or they didn't fight anymore. A double cross or going to the cops would land them in the hospital if they were lucky.

They call boxing at times,"A poor man's out." Sometimes I wonder "Out to where?"

Jimmy Young

There's Never Been So Much Money Around And Everyone Is Broke

I used to deliver chicken dinners for this little outfit near the school.I'd drive my car and got 20 cents a mile for delivering. Pay was a buck 65 an hour and with tips I was clearing around 400 a month. I was renting a modest house in Ocean Beach for 50 a month and me and two other guys went in on it.Gas was 20 cents a gallon and I was driving a 57 Chevy Bel Air that I shelled out 175 dollars for.This was back in 1965.Of course I don't care where you go back in time everyone was always complaining about the high cost of living and that things were more expensive now than back then.

As you know by now if you read my stuff I liked to go to the fights.You could sit GA at the Coliseum for a buck and a half. The Coliseum wasn't very big inside so sitting in the bleaches you could see everything pretty good without the fighters looking like ants.The cards were made up of fighters either starting out or on their way down the ladder. Mickey Davies,who was the matchmaker,liked to put a rising star against a fella' who was beginning to lose his radiance.

Back then pulling in 400 a month I really didn't have any yens for something I couldn't afford. Very few people had a credit card and the most common was a credit card for gas. Then the banks started to loosen things up on credit and that's how things got out of control. Banks make their money lending it out and then collecting the interest on it. Now you had everyone from the average guy on the street to whole countries getting loans and spending more than they had borrowed.So then you had to go back to the bank and refi.The kicker to all this is that banks lend money they don't have in thefirst place(called fractional banking),lend it out,and then collect the interest on the money they loaned out that they never had in the first place.Now with this Covid shutdown and everybody on the planet in hock(except the banks)the banks are licking their chops. There's no other place to go but to the banks to get help.

I don't have any debts.No mortgage,car payments,and no credit card debt. The banks are always sending me messages so I can borrow money. but I put them on my pay no mind list.I'll never get a second o my condo.If I can't pay for something in cash I don't want to pay any interest to a bank.

I know guys who spend the rent money on booze and drugs and cars they won't have the deed to until the car is a wreck. They also pay to see these PayPer View fights.It's a free country and you can pay for what you want.The thing is they want you to pay with plastic with these interest rates around 25 percent. I use my cards too,but then sit at the computer and log on to my bank and pay the whole thing off.

But again I blame all this overspending on Madison Avenue and how they lure you into buying stuff you don't really need.It's like a drug.Once the merchandise is in your house the thrill of the expenditure wears off.Then you go back to charging something again that you don't really need.But the game often is keeping up with the Joneses.

When it comes to boxing I won't pay to see a fight on TV.Oh,I've done that before. But now with things the way they are it's the hype that steers me away.I know people need escapes.Diversions. But I'm not going to get any fulfillment by paying money to watch a fight o TV.People are searching for something on the outside to get their jollies when they need to pause and look inside for that warm toasty feeling.I don't need some talking head on the tube to tell me what's good or not. In the end it's always going to be your way anyway.

Watching A Ghost

It's been said that the great "Sugar" Ray Robinson was a fighter of two eras-the era of the old school fighter and ended his career fighting pugs of the modern age.They make the same analogy with Archie Moore. Well,for starters both those boys fought a hell of a long time and they fought a lot. Not like today if you're a top echelon guy and you have your two fights per year and take your millions and buy a mansion in Las Vegas that they get lost in trying to find your way around and make sure you have enough garage space for 20 or 30 cars,and I ain't talking about Chevys or Toyotas.Robinson and Moore fought as often as they could in every run down arena between Trenton and Tacoma. They fought everybody worth mentioning but then Robinson still gets flack for not fighting Charley Burley.Take whatever side you want about that argument the fact is they never faced each other foreever what. Robinson went on to immortality and Burley will be remembered as the fighter who might have been the best but never got the chance to show it because he never fought Ray Robinson.

When I was watching Robinson fight Memo Ayon in Tijuana's bullring in 1965 it was one of those things where I was pulling so hard for Robby that I thought I was going to get a hernia.Here's the great 'Sugar" Ray who compiled that phenomenal record of something like 123 victories against 2 defeats and a draw before he almost died from heatstroke and Joey Maxim in Yankee Stadium.After two and a half years of trying to push Fred Astaire to the side he went back to fighting so he could eat a square meal.

When he returned to the squared circle in 1955 he fought another 10 years but he wasn't a great fighter anymore.HIs name connoted greatness but his fighting was pedestrian. He lost another 16 fights against guys with obscure names like Ferd Hernandez,Phil Moyer,Mick Leahy and Tijuana's Memo Ayon. The Ray Robinson of that bygone era who proved his worth against former champs like Fritzie Zivic and Henry Armstrong was doing a slow dance in a bullring with his opponent,Ayon, Memo was acting the bull part and Robinson trying to be Belmonte but executing like Belle Starr.I was waiting for Robinson to shake the cobwebs and decide to finally get it in gear and swipe away the the pressing yet unimpressive bull, Ayon. But it never happened.Every round was a copy of the prior. The crowd believed they were witnessing a monumental fight but all it was a slow workout between a fighter who should have packed it in years ago and a guy who thought by beating a legend would be one. After Ayon got his hand raised they brought him up to LA to fight maybe the best man in the division,Luis Rodriguez.After El Feo made short work of Memo his claim for greatness would be exposed as a fighter who beat a once great fighter who was now was a has been.But Memo was a never was.The word "great" and Memo were anomalies.

The compelling fighter that Ray Robinson once was would never have that adverb again describe his performances .All that was left was his courage.Maybe if you were once seen as being the best pound for pound,in the end,when that isn't the case anymore,all you have to show for it is your heart. And that's more than a lot of fighters can say about themselves.


Ray Robinson

Waiting For A Plane

I was with my wife and kids.We had spent a couple of weeks in my wife's hometown Jiquilpan in Michoacan.This was before we had our own place built.We stayed with her mother at the house my wife had bought for her before we got married. This was way before we had our own house built many years later.At that time the her mother's place had a dirt floor and a lena in the kitchen that you had to keep a fire going in it at night so the possums and skunks wouldn't come in and start scavenging. There was electricity but no running water.You had to walk a block down the rocky road to the public well and bring buckets to get water. The outhouse was way off in the corner in the backyard.

We took a bus back to the Guadalajara airport to catch our flight back to Tijuana.The airport is about 20 miles south of the city and the bus was going directly into town so I asked the chofer to let us off at the side of the road so we could walk the few blocks to the terminal.When we got there we checked in and went to the boarding area.The airport isn't that large and it was on a Wednesday and the it was pretty empty.We were early. Our flight wasn't to depart to Tijuana for a couple of hours.I wanted to leave from Tijuana and return there on the way back. The cost was almost half the price if I had wanted to book the flights going and coming back to San Diego.

We went to the gate area and there were plenty of empty seats.The wife and kids were restless and they wanted to walk around and get something to eat and shop in the stores.That was fine with me so I broke out my crossword puzzle magazine and settled in. After several minutes of working a puzzle something caught my eye. A young Mexican girl(she didn't look any older than 14 or 15)was steering this old guy in a wheelchair and they situated themselves near where I was sitting. The girl looked very shy and quiet.She was dark skinned and very Indian looking and her jet black hair hung straight down her back.Small framed and delicate her large black eyes set off a mysterious beauty.The old man in the wheelchair was hooked up with an oxygen tank and tubes running into his nose.Right away there was no doubt who I was lookigat.it was John Huston.

His hair had grayed and was long in the back.His beard was scraggly and needed a trim.His chest had shrunk but he had one of those pot bellies that old men get after living a hard life that made his shirt pop out. He said something to the girl and she moved the wheelchair more into the sunlight that was beaming through the big plate glass window.

I had known that John Huston had relocated recently from Ireland and now was going to live out the rest of his life in Mexico.More precisely ,he had a house built in Puerto Vallarta that you could only get to by boat.He had a lot of family there with him to take care of his needs.Also,John Huston was, I'd have o say, my favorite director.Like I said the inside of the airport was pretty much empty. No one there seemed to take any notice of John Huston. He and the girl were by themselves.His presence caught me by surprise so I figured I'd never see him the flesh again so I got up and walked over to where he was sitting with the girl.
"Mr. Huston,"I said cautiously,"You've always been my favorite director. "
My approach didn't seem to startle or unnerve him. He looked up at me and with a wide smile showing his crooked tobacco stained teeth said "Thank you."
The girl remained impassive with her hands her hands on the back of the wheelchair.
"Are you flying to Los Angeles?"he asked me.
"No.I'm with my family going to Tijuana and then crossing to San Diego where we live."
"I'm going go Los Angeles.The doctors there want to look me over.My neice has the chore of looking after me.I don't want to go but everybody worries.so I oblige,"he said smiling again.
The girl ,who I assumed was the niece, took her hands off the back of the wheelchair.
"What one of my films do you like the best?"he asked.
" Just about all of them but I like Fat City the best."
The old director didn't say anything and then looked up towards the light shining through the window.
"That was one of my favorites too. It put me back on my feet again after a few not so good ones.The public wasn't so hot on it but I knew I'd made a good one.The critics liked it.and I usually don't care what they think.""
"I consider it my favorite boxing movie.Raging Bull was a good one too but it revolved around all on Jake LaMotta.Fat City captured the environment .The mood.It was very real."
"I used to be a fighter before I got into making movies,"he said."I was a amateur fighter up in that area of Northern California where that movie was shot.But I knew where I stood with being a fighter.I've always loved boxing and fighters."
"You had some fighters in that movie.Art Aragon and Curtis Cokes."
"I didn't have to tell them much.They already knew."
"They were good alright."
"Casting is what the secret is.I always made sure I got who I wanted in my movies. It was like they understood the role beforehand.What I wanted from them. I didn't have to do much explaining.The rest was a piece of cake."
"Who was your favorite actor?"
"Bogie.No doubt it was him.He got me my start in a way.The Maltese Falcon was my first time directing. George Raft was to play Sam Spade but wouldn't do it because it was my first film and he thought it would hurt his career..Bogie then took the part.We were like brothers after that."

I saw my wife walk over to where I was with the kids.They had bags in their hands.
"Maria.I want you to meet John Huston and his niece.He directs movies and is very famous and lives in Mexico."
"Mucho gusto ,"said my wife shyly.
"Egaulmente senora."said John Huston."Mucho gusto a conocerle."
The flight announcer said over the microphone that the flight to Los Angeles was going to depart at a different gate and that passengers to go to the boarding area.The niece grabbed the handles of the wheelchair again.
"Well,that's us,"he said."It was nice talking to you.Have a nice flight to Tijuana."
The niece began pushing her uncle to the departing gate.
On the flight to Tijuana the wife and kids began talking about their two week stay with family and friends.I broke out my crossword magazine but didn't finish the puzzle before we arrived at the airport.


Humphrey Bogart

So Let Me Tell You About Harry Greb

When I was going to middle school I had a friend named Steve Grebe.(he pronounced his last name Gree-bee).Well,that sounded pretty close to Greb the famous fighter so I asked him if he was related to Harry Greb,the famous fighter.
"No.But my father saw him fight in Pittsburgh once."
One day I was over at Steve Grebe's house and his father was sitting in the living room.
"Excuse me Mr. Grebe,"I said to him as he was reading the newspaper." But I asked Steve if he was any relation to Harry Greb the famous fighter and he said no but that you had seen him fight."
Mr. Grebe put down the paper and looked up at me.
"I saw Harry Greb fight in Pittsburgh once.That's where he was from.I was just a kid.I was with my father. He wanted to visit his mother who live in Pittsburgh.My father took me to Forbes Field to watch the fight.He fought some guy named Marullo or something.I don't remember much of it but that Greb gave the guy a pretty good beating."
"You hear a lot about Harry Greb,"I said. "A lot of people saw him fight."
"He fought a lot.Just about everybody I know saw him one time or another."
"All the dads say they remember him."
"I remember he never stopped throwing punches.He wore that guy out in Forbes Field he was fighting."

My father saw Harry Greb fight once. His father,"Diamond"Joe,took my dad when he was a kid to visit his uncle Chas in New York. They all went to the Garden and saw the second fight he had with Tiger Flowers.My father thought that Greb won the fight and that everyone was pulling for Greb and he was the favorite but the decision went Flowers' way and the crowd got sore.Later,my father said that the fight was "fixed" to go Flowers' way because that's how the wise guys had bet it with Greb being the favorite.I think my grandfather had a hand in that like he did when the Chisox went into the tank in the 1919 World Series against the Reds.Instead of playing ball on the diamond they played ball with Diamond Joe and Arnold Rothstein.But that fight was only for show to make a fast buck because then they screwed Flowers out of the title when Mickey Walker was awarded a bum decision and Flowers then was crying the blues.They didn't want a black guy holding on to the title any longer than necessary.

You watch old movies and even television programs and once in a while they allude in the dialogue about someone having watched Harry Greb fight in the ring,or some back alley.It was like nothing.Hell,he had over 300 fights and those were only the ones that they kept record of not to mention all his alley fights. Unless you lived in some foreign country a red blooded American back in the day probably saw a Harry Greb fight like he could spin a tale about seeing The Babe at the neighborhood ballpark(remember they did a lot of barnstorming in those days) smacking the ol' pill out to Never Never Land.

But all those eye witnesses who saw the Pittsburgh Windmill in action are like the way of the buffalo-gone from the prairie.But we have buffalos around today but they live on farms and they breed baby buffalos so they'll still be around for the occasional buffalo barbeque on the 4th of July. But the dads who could sit with their sons and start a conversation about how they saw one of the toughest fighters of his era or any era are now sitting ringside in Paradise watching Harry Greb fight probably without wearing his wings.

Harry Greb is probably the most enigmatic sports figure in history. He lived after Thomas Alva invented the motion picture camera but there's no celluloid of him in a prize fight. Only some footage of him the gym skipping rope. Hell,anyone can skip rope.Just go to your neighborhood kindergarten and can get your fill.We have Babe Ruth on film. Dempsey.Red Grange.Even Mon O War the horse,but Harry The Windmill?

So we have to go to the record books(When Is BoxRec going to fix up Greb's record?) and decipher off the top of our heads or feed data into the computer about the merit of Harry Greb's fighting worth. We can slam it back and forth on blog sites if he was for real or just a lot of hype. Where does he fit in the all time lists?I've seen people take this argument to heart and get pretty snotty.

Because Harry Greb was a man's man of the rip roaring 20's and could drink,f--k,and fight to the max he becomes bigger than life. He was like Ketchel in his habits but we've seen Stanley. On YouTube,in a clinch fest with Papke and getting his teeth knocked out by Jack Johnson.From those clips you wonder how he got the nickname,"The Michuigan Assassin."But like Greb all those fellas' that are now 6 feet under saw the rest of the fights or some of them out of the ring.

Talking Harry Greb is like a conversation about Alexander The Great.Was he really such a bad ass?I guess you can look at his record. Just the same, today all we have to go by with Harry Greb is the record.Too bad Thomas Alva wasn't alive when Alex's army took on the Persians. But where were all the cameras when Greb was fighting Tunney?


Harry Greb

Everything is Jake

It began with that book. When Martin Scorsese showed the book "Raging Bull" to Robert DeNiro(I don't know it might have been the other way around)they both agreed they had to do a movie about it. They couldn't believe anyone could be that insnsitive,but then again Marty and Bobby grew up around guys like LaMotta. They hung out on the corners,inside the pool rooms,did their swilling in the taprooms,and went to the boxing gyms.There was no Little League Baseball or Pop Warner Football. High school sports were comprised of crap games and fighting the guy you had a beef with in back of the auditorium.

Before that book, that probably wouldn't have sold enough copies to pay LaMotta's bar tab,Jake was sort of in a state of limbo. He was a hard guy to get along with.Thought nothing of slugging anyone in the chops of either sex who rubbed him the wrong way. Never looked back over his shoulder.Never said he was sorry for anything. He just went plowing through life with a Jake LaMotta swagger that turned people off to him, or in the end drove them away.

Of the two dago middleweights of that era in The Apple it was Rocky Graziano who everyone warmed to.Jake and Rocky got acquainted together in the same reform school. Rocky got there first and was on the boxing team. When Jake arrived they became fast friends and shared experiences about who they mugged in the old neighborhood. Jake got the itch to fight from watching Rocky though Jake had had his share of fights like Rocky growing up in the asphalt jungle of the city.

Rocky went into the army, though he told them he didn't, and went AWOL.He then started fighting in thering but the commision didn't know that. He should have been fighting the Germans or the Japs instead.Then he gets nabbed and then returns to the base and practices his righthand on a NCO's jaw

Around this time Jake is in the ring too and both fellas' are being steered the right way until LaMotta plays the bad actor against "Blackjack: Billy Fox and gets his boxing license revoked.

Rocky has his savage trilogy with Tony Zale and even though he loses two he's the one who comes out smelling like a rose. In the 50's they make a movie about him quoting his line after winning the title in the second go round called "Somebody Up There Likes Me."They put a skinny blond actor who's on the rise to play his part.To me Paul Newman was about as miscast as it comes and to boot his dialogue is a cross between Slapsie Maxie and Crazy Guggenheim. Then Rocky becomes Martha Ray's sidekick(goomba is what "Marta" called him)on her weekly TV show. Her and Rocky look like they honed their teeth on vaudeville for 20 years and the public falls in love with the pair.

Meanwhile, Jake finally got his shot with Marcel Cerdan for all the marbles after giving the Frenchman a judo flip early in the action that dislodges a shoulder and also separates Marcel from his title."Sugar Ray" Robinson breaks Jake's heart on Valentine's Day losing the championship. Rocky had given up his crown in the rubber match to the fighter from Gary,Indiana.

As time marched on Rocky became the celebrity. Oh,he wasn't that dumb like they had him in that dumb movie but he became popular as hell because he could laugh at himself and that made the world chortle with him.Jake on the other hand does a stint in the Dade County Stockade for having a 14 year old girl in his saloon who was peddllng her hips to the customers.Jake gets out and finds himself staggering around.He's got a lousy night club act and is going through one wife after another.But he's not going to try to reinvent himself because he thinks everything is Jake. Rocky on the other hand is goofing it up on the Mike Douglas Show and is sitting in with the likes of Robinson and Zale on various sports shows on the tube.

Madison Square Garden puts on retirement benefit for Ray Robinson and invites Carmen Basilio,Bobo Olson,Gene Fullmer,and Randy Turpin to occupy the ring corners as "Sugar" makes his entrance down the aisle.LaMotta is somewhere off in Poughkeepsie in some lounge telling his stale jokes to a bunch of drunks.

Life went on like that and then Marty and Bobby read the book and then came the movie. Well,Deniro was no Paul Newman and with Scorsese directing "Raging Bull" it's one the cinematic giants.Deniro got the best actor award.I don't understand why Scorsese didn't get best director. I mean DeNiro took his lead from Scorsese.It goes hand in hand.Anyway it put Jake LaMotta on the map. He passed up his thug childhood pal Graziano with all the scribes. But Rocky was counted out a lot sooner than Jake. However,now that Jake was in the limelight he stayed true to himself. He remained a horse's ass. To him everything was always Jake.

Jake LaMotta

The Affront

Even I said it the other say. I said on the forum how the" heat" beat Ray Robinson that night in Yankee Stadium. But then I did the "cool" thing and qualified my statement and added "and Joey Maxim."But that certainly wasn't an original on my part. I'd heard that before-"and Joey Maxim."Well,the heat didn't beat him that night in the Bronx.

Poor Joey Maxim, Born Giuseppe Antonio Berardinelli,I think when he switched to the moniker "Joey Maxim" that was the "coolest" thing about his fighting posture. "Joey Maxim" has kind of that slick,crafty,pug aura about it. You could certainly make a case that he fought that way in the ring,but you could also be validated if you said Maxim was a dull fighter.

On the forum he doesn't get much mention.On these lists of all time greats his name never pops up in the light heavyweight column.He was never much of a draw at the gate.When he knocked out the movie star image of England's Freddie Mills in Earls Court l Empress Hall(sounds like a joint where you get knighted)to win the world title,the Brits took a liking to the paisan ,at least they showed more of a fondness than the boxing buffs in the colonies.

At the start of 1950 when Maxim won the belt,here in America,we were absorbed by the likes of who was going to represent the heavyweight championship-Charles,Jersey Joe,or another dago who had a righthand that could have sunk the Prince Of Wales.Then there was "Sugar" Ray who was going after what LaMotta was all about as a middleweight.And Pep and Saddler who where in the throngs of mauling each other while selling out seats.Joey Maxim would be the new light heavyweight champion and nobody cared.

Maxim made no bones about it. He wanted to last as long as he could fighting.He wanted to fight as much as he could.The way to do that was not to burn himself out.if you want to fight a lot you better be careful. He didn't want to get in slugfests.He didn't move around in the ring much. Like I said he was dull to the orbs,thus not a big draw.

He hated regular work to makea living so that's why he fought. By looking at his fights you'd think he wasn't that interested,but the guy really loved boxing.He started out when he was a kid wet behind the ears and was mostly self taught. He said the more he fought the more he learned how to hone his skills.

When "Hatchet Man" Sheppard caught him flush in the first round and handed Maxim his only loss by KO,it didn't put the whammy on Joey.He was right back in the ring with "Hatchet Man"(the name wasn't going to scare joey)and breezed through a decisive and you guessed it, dull decision.

When Archie Moore finally caught up with Maxim in St. Louie to win the title(with working out a deal with Joey's guru "Doc" Kearns who would swing over to the "Mongoose's" side after the fight was over)Moore wasn't jumping around in the ring and dropping to his knees in tears and making the Sign Of The Cross after he was announced the winner.Moore figured he was the best light heavyweight long before he signed for the fight.

Joey Maxim fought over a hundred times. He lost a lot of fights-BoxRec shows him with 29 losses.He could never beat the two best that weighed similar to himself-Moore and Ezzard Charles.After losing to Charles for the N.B.A version of the heavyweight title(Joe Louis was still in the mix)Maxim started hitting the skids.He couldn't get by on guile anymore. In his last 22 bouts he came up short 13 times.During that period there was an upcoming undefeated fighter who was under the wings of a wily old cuss who was named Cus. The fighter was Floyd Patterson.Somehow Cuss thought it would be a good experience for his young charge to get in there with the old veteran.He might learn a thing or two.If anything, Floyd had to learn what it was to lose for the first time.

Joey Maxim will never get more than he deserves. When they bring up his name in boxing circles they won't kick him to the curb,but then again they aren't going to raise their glasses for him either. II guess he'll be mostly be remembered for the man who beat Ray Robinson,and not the heat.


Joey Maxim

Jack Kearns Jr. spoke very highly of Maxim to me. In particular, he stressed how good Maxim was in the clinches. Maxim used leverage techniques to manipulate stronger, bigger men on the inside.

goose 5 wrote: ↑10 Dec 2020, 13:43 Jack Kearns Jr. spoke very highly of Maxim to me. In particular, he stressed how good Maxim was in the clinches. Maxim used leverage techniques to manipulate stronger, bigger men on the inside.

Maxim was a very good fighter.Don't think he didn't know what he was doing to Robinson.While Robby was ahead he was often showing off wasting gas. Maxim was leaning on him and drained his tank.He told the press afterwards that that was his strategy to eventually wear him down.But the scribes ran with the heat exhaustion story. Maxim caused Robby to overheat as much as the weather. Underrated was Joey Maxim.

Breaking Eggs

"He couldn't break a egg."
That's was George Radovich's assessment of Joey Maxim's punch.George was behind the bar in his joint the Arizona Cafe when he said that to me.We was talking about about "Irish" Bob Murphy who George handled as an amateur after Murphy got out of the Navy here in San Diego.Later he turned Murphy's career over to Travis Hatfield who owned a big sporting goods store in downtown.Murphy was always getting into street fights and Radovich put it in his ear that he ought to some day get paid for it.

Murphy made his pro start at the Coliseum here in San Diego and was going through the opposition like a destroyer cutting a wake through the Seven Seas.But this opponents were mostly of the white variety in those days when that Black Murderers Row was mostly fighting each other. He never met a Moore or a Charles.He did have a fight with Lloyd Marshall up at The Olympic and belted Marshall out in the 4th round.But there were some raised eyebrows about that one. Later,again at the Olympic ,Clarence Henry caught Bob just right and broke his jaw. No question about that.

Murphy's big weapon was his left hand.He was a southpaw and he'd unload his left with as much power behind it as anyone in the light heavyweight division.He could really wing it.After Jake LaMotta got tired of always having to shed off the weight to fight at middleweight he went up a division to light heavy.He was no longer the champ at 160 by then.

They brought Murphy out to New York to fight LaMotta in Yankee Stadium.It was a bigfight.LaMotta was set to fight Joey Maxim if he could get past Murphy. Though Murphy had a pretty impressive record Jake had been in with better boys.But there was one thing that a lot of people were unaware of-Murphy didn't like Italians.In fact he hated them.

I used to work with a guy named Earl Anderson when I was working for the road department for the county of San Diego.Anderson used to be a sparring partner of Murphy's and idolized the guy.Earl was a fighter himself but had o give it up when he got his retina detached in a bout somewhere in the Rocky Mountain region.He'd follow Murphy around to all his fights and thought of him as a big brother.It was Earl who told me about Murphy's dislike of Italians. Maybe it's an inherent thing.It seemed like in the old neighborhoods the Irish and the Italians were always at each others' throats.Maybe it was because the Irish came over on the boats first and settled into the slums.And later came the Italians and they had no place to go but move next to the irish.That's where the beef started .A lot of Irish were cops and they thought nothin' of woppin' a nightstick over a some wop's head.Anderson once told me that him and Murphy were in some restaurant in Boston and there was Marciano and his paisans twirling spaghetti on their forks and Murphy (he was drunk of course)decided to stride up to Rocky and grab him by the shirt.

Anyway getting back to that fight with LaMotta in Yankee Stadium.Murphy pulverized the Raging Bull.Turned him into a little dogie.Jake was so beaten up(some busted ribs administered by Murphy's piledriver left) that he didn't want to come it for the 8th round.So now it was Murphy in line to get the title shot with another Italian ,Joey Maxim.The bookies had Murphy favored more than 2 to 1.

Of course Earl Anderson goes out to The Garden with his pal.Now this is what Earl told me.Minutes before Murphy is to go down the aisle Hatfield takes him aside and whispers something in the big Irishman's ear.Then like a bomb going off Murphy starts picking up anything he can get his hands on and starts mutilating the dressing room smashing chairs, punching lockers.He's screaming and yelling like a maniac.It took everyone to get him to settle down.

If you watch the fight on YouTube you can concur that "Irish" Bob Murphy got his ears boxed off by the better boxer. It wasn't even close on the cards. And to think here was this Maxim fella' who couldn't break an egg.

George Radovich's Arizona Cafe.Lots of Murphy stories told in that joint

A Common Faith

Someone once asked me after reading one of my posts about Jose Napoles.
"Did you ever think of writing a biography about him?I really like when you talk about Napoles."
I thanked him.
" I wouldn't want to do that. If I ever ran into him again and we talked I'd post something again.I really don't know the guy.He was my favorite fighter,but I never knew him."
I saw Jose Napoles fight a few times in person.I watched him workout in the policeman's gym in Tijuana.After he retired I saw him perform with his salsa band in a club in Tijuana. And then in 2014 I tracked him down where he lived in Ciudad Juarez and talked to him for a couple of hours.That was about it. I've posted my encounters but to do a biography is not my thing.Besides,I don't have the motivation nor the energy.Now if I'd somehow been with Napoles from the start when he took up fighting and gone through the trials and tribulations that would have been different.I would have been there and seen trough my own eyes and then put down on paper MY takes on "Mantequilla" Napoles.

To do a biography I'd have to seek the people who are still alive that had contact with him.-fighters,managers,promoters,wives and girlfriends,his kids.That would rake a lot of footwork and time.But the major reason I wouldn't want to pack my bags and venture out into the field is that all their accounts would be through Their prisms.I want to write about what I see with my own two eyes.

Now don't get me wrong.I certainly would be all ears listening to what they had to say.And I'd surely post on the forum what they wanted me to hear.But their stories would be their stories the way they saw it to get their points across.

I have to factor in what they were telling me was the truth,close to the truth,or something just something downright slanderous. What kind of mood were they in when they responded to my queries.Did Napoles ever throw them under the bus.

When I saw Napoles chomping on his Cuban stogie in front of his house in Ciudad Juarez I didn't feel like talking boxing much. I asked him how he was feeling.How I was a big fan of his.What the neighborhood was like.That I went to his gym on the other side of town.If he could still get it up and f--k a woman.Stuff like we had known each other for awhile.I wanted it not to be pressing.He brought up the boxing stuff.When he did it was more inciteful than if I had asked him about all the big fights that have been written up and rehashed a thousand times.

"You see those hills out there?"he said pointing afar at the colonias on the horizon."I used to run up there early every morning and the kids would follow behind me punching their fists like a fighter and saying my name. over and over.'Mantequilla.Mantequilla.' ".
I get off on that kind of observations.I can feel it.It's sublime. Gee,I wish I had been around when he started out fighting in Mexico.But I wasn't. So in fact who am I really writing about?I'm writing about me.Everything I post is really about me. Everything tense of the verb is 1st person personal.

Since Boxrec is about boxing I try to fit fighting into the backdrop.That's fine with me. Fighting and fighters are a good collage. Its pulse is down to earth and combines the elements of the tragic with the comic vividly.But what I'm saying about Jose Napoles, for example,I'm really describing myself.

I've gone through the Archie Moore anecdotes.But I was with him at his club for only one summer.Helped him out in the gym a little.Ate lunch with him one time happenstance at Huffman's Barbeque one afternoon.Saw him at a few jazz concerts and bumped into him at his fried chicken stand at Ocean View Park in Southeast San Diego on M.L. King Day.There were the ceremonies for the various sorts sports figures in San Diego and he'd be in attendance. But did I know him?Not very much if at all. So what I type away on The Mongoose is my 1st person experiences.

I used to mimic a bar stool at George Radovich's Arizona Cafe and George would tell me all his run ins with "Irish" Bob Murphy. I've passed those stories around on the thread.Who knows by the time they got to me those tales were stretched bigger than Paul Bunyan.But that's OK. Boxing is a lot of bull at times.It goes with the sport. Hell,how would I know if I asked Jose Napoles to really level with me that he'd take me for a joyride anyway.

Like I said before.What I write today I won't read again tomorrow. I used to go way back on the thread I read my first stuff.It was horrifying. Who is this guy? What you're reading right now is some alter ego I have. it's not really me.I wish it was but it's my way of getting by. if you were to bump into me in some taproom and we yakked it up it would be more of the same.You might even ask me to write a biography about Jose Napoles.But then after a few drinks we'd part ways and I probably would never see you again.


Me and my favorite fighter

A Second Thought

Mulling over my last post about whether or not any of these former fighters ,managers,trainers giving you a straight answer to a question.I was a little off the mark.I guess the important point is that they at least give you their take about what is asked.If you are looking for the truth that's always a moving target.

I'm sure many of you have read Ron Fried's compilation of interviews with some of the great trainers of the past,Cornermen. If not, it's a must read.I tip my hat to Fried.He did a hell of a lot of legwork getting these guys to sit down with him and share their experiences. The book was published in 1991. Fried caught these guys at the right time.They were not training fighters anymore and were still breathing and had their senses. Guys like Ray Arcel,Angelo Dundee,Manny Seamon,Freddie Brown to name a few.. They were there at the start.The stories of fighters like Benny Leonard,Joe Louis,Jack Dempsey.Fellas' they had a part in making.Places like Stillman's Gym and what it was like to be a part of that now bygone landmark..But Fried wasn't around back then. But to his credit he asked the basics,sat back, and got in return a wonderland of antecdotes.In the book there are also numerous quotes from other notable people in the fight game that Fried didn't have time to pick their brains with.

But here comes my backhand compliment.Anyone could have asked those same questions.I don't want to be an asker that much.Besides ,who would I ask. I read the threads "Best I Faced"-then the name of the fighter.That's not for me. I certainly read those threads but it all seems so straight forward,i so formal, hedging on the same ol' same ol'.The same questions asked to those guys a hundred times over.

I'd rather share a personal experience even though it might seem like much like the accidental lunch I had with Archie Moore at Huffman's Barbeque in Logan Heights that was what the locals referred to as "The Stick" when we talked about jazz.Boxing was on the pay no mind list.Or bending elbows with Ronnie Wilson and Denny Moyer at the Chi Chi Club in San Diego's skid row and how Wilson decided to bum rush this bum out to the street after he tried to dip into Ronnie's back pocket. Or the time my old man took me to Bob Johnston's Sport Palace bar that was neighbor to his Hollywood Burlesque house and how my old man,Johnston, and Doc Kearns were sitting in the back room smoking old stogies and laughing when Kearns described how he loaded Dempsey's gloves in Toledo.I don't now.Maybe Kearns was making the whole thing up.But looking back, the important thing was that I was there to hear it.


Bob Johnston's Sport Palace bar. The building torn down years ago.A 24 Hour Fitness is there now.Doesn't seem right.


The Chi Club.One thing I remember about this place.The bus stop was out front and when the front door was open and the buses would stop in front to take on passengers and then take off and you could hear the engines revving and shoving into gear causing the wind to swirl and the papers that littered the sidewalk would fly around and you could smell the diesel exhaust from the bus inside the bar.

School Of Hard Knocks

I was a school teacher for 27 years.I started off teaching at Juvenile Hall and then later signed a contract with the Sweetwater Union High School District where I stayed for 22 years before finally retiring.I guess you could say I was like most teachers starting out-idealistic and thinking I could turn kids' lives around for the good. But I didn't start teaching until my early 40's.i went through one of those mid life crisis and made up my mind that working for the County Of San Diego in charge of structural pest control ,which was a fancy name for being a bug killer, wasn't something I wanted to do for the rest of my life.Being around all those pesticides wasn't my idea of living life to the helthiest.if anything those chemicals I figured would catch up with me sooner or later.

I always wanted to be a football coach at a high school and the fastest track to find that position was to go back to school and get a teaching credential.it took about a year and a half including my student teaching before I got the sheepskin saying I was qualified to teach in the state of California.

I landed my first job at Juvenile Hall teaching the 17 and under incarcerated the three R's. Even though they were locked up the law said they were still entitled to an education and that they had to go to school.So here I was with those little devils. Henry Brown ,who had been my mentor during my student teaching at The Hall, got me an interview with the principal,a dago from Newark ,New Jersey by the name of Rocky Nobile. Rocky and me got to know each other while I was doing my student teaching and me and him being dagos got along just fine. Rocky was the school's first principal when it opened its doors in back in 1960.Rocky seemed as much as a warden as he was a principal. He was a tough guy working with a bunch of tough kids.it seemed every other word out of his mouth when he formed a sentence was "f--k."He implemented it as a noun,verb,and adjective.He said it around everybody without hesitation ,even to the girls in the office, Today of course that wouldn't fly.

When I got hired on there were school rooms inside the facility and sometimes classes would be held in the kids' dayrooms inside their dorms.There were other classes held outside of the main facility in various parts of the city.They referred to these classes as "Court Schools." They were located in storefronts rented out by the county. Sometimes I'd have an assignment at one of the "Court Schools."I'll never forget one time I was sent to a storefront school on Logan Avenue,a very rough part of town.The kids that went there lived in the neighborhood either rode the bus or walked.They were all on probation.Rocky thought that I was seasoned enough that he didn't have to send a probation officer out with me to keep an eye on things.I didn't mind. I never feared for my life or anything like that.My hurdle was to get these kids motivated to learn something besides what they were learning from the other kids in the joint about how to con,steal, and sell drugs.

This school was in a two story stucco covered building with the classroom being on the top floor.On the bottom floor was the neighborhood boxing gym.My subject was teaching,or more precisely trying to teach,U.S. history.Since all the kids were mostly Mexican with a few black kids and Filipinos I never made much headway selling those kids on the merits of what the good ol' USA was founded on. I had this big poster of all the presidents on the wall and the kids would ask ,"Where's the Mexican guy?" or "Where's the black guy?"(this was before Obama broke the mold)or "How come no Filipino was never a president?"I told the the truth (that they already knew)that America was racist but that we as a nation were overcoming this dilemma and in time one of you might be president one day.They never bought that being president stuff.All they wanted to do is get off probation.That was the main reason they went to school.

It didn't take long for me to realize that I would never sell them on good government bull s--t and so I tried getting through to them by being a friend who sympathized about how they wound up being in the slammer and that they all had an amount of "good" inside them. I tried to nurture that.But they never showed you how to do that in teacher's school.It was something you either had or didn't.But at that Court School on Logan Avenue I was battling something that in a way sucker punched my efforts to be another Father Flanagan-it was that damn boxing gym downstairs.

My class began at 11 in the morning and I would be cruising along until the fighters arrived around 1 o'clock. Then I began treading water.All those kids, including the girls,would leave their seats and go the the railing to look down at the fighters on the bottom training-sparring,hitting the bags,skipping rope,and shadow boxing.it was no good for me to yell and get upset.That would have made things worse.If I had asked for a P.O to come with me and he saw that he would have dismissed the class and sent everyone home. Then they would have never come back. So I said "F--k it" and joined the little varmints along the railing watching the fighters.

Here's a good one.The trainer at that gym ,who was also the owner, was of all people a guy who I would become close to later,Rodolofo "Gato" Gonzalez. Today,when we get together we'll talk about his gym and my class.
"Hey 'Gato',did you ever have any good fighters in your gym?"
"Not one.Did you ever have any of those kids go on to college?"
"Only if you want to say they went on to the school of hard knocks."


The stucco covered building where inside were "Gato's" gym and my classroom.

The Greatest Who Never Was

In my lifetime I never saw a fighter screw up his legacy more than Roy Jones Jr.I watched the highlights of that exhibition on YouTube between him and Tyson.(Yawn)The thing that got me were the comments.I didn't read one favorable word about Jones.There are a lot of Tyson addicts that believe that he still has the goods.A remarkable performance.He hasn't lost a step(maybe a half step)Put him back in there with what's around today.He'd be the champ again.As for Jones?He's lucky Iron Mike was pulling his punches or he would have mopped the canvas with him.Roy was one scared bitch all right.

The fights I saw of Roy Jones(before the episodes with Antonio Tarver) I don't think I ever saw him lose a round not to mention anything resembling a defeat.The first eye opener was the first fight with Hopkins.B Hop was gonna' school this kid but Jones got all A's on his report card that night.After that he was going through fighters like he was in a rush to attain immortality.James Toney couldn't lay a glove on him.He threw a shutout against Mike McCallum.But then came the glitch-the DQ loss to Montel Griffin.(Didn't mean to hit you Monty when you were taking a knee).But then in the rematch Griffin was evaporated in less than a round.Virgil Hill lasted 4 rounds.Otis Grant's corner threw in the towel.The light heavyweight division was now experiencing the Roy Jones Tsunami.I saw the John Ruiz fight in Tijuana at the Sports Book.Ok.Ruiz wasn't Evander or Lewis,but he had 30 pounds on Jones and was some kind of a heavyweight champion but left the ring that night a chump.

I heard Eddie Futch remark thatJones was a lot like Charley Burley.and Eddie was around back then.it wasn't that Jones had any stand out attributes. His jab was so so and he rarely used it.He wasn't a one punch KO artist. He didn't have the balletic feet of an Ali.However,Jones was the most energized fighter I ever saw in the ring.He made the Energizer Bunny look like Stepin' Fetchit.

When he got in the ring with Antonio Tarver back to his fighting trim of 175,I expected to see more deja vu.But as we all saw, the stars in Jones' universe were out of kilter. He was as stale as poor house cake.He had to dig deep in the last two rounds to get the decision.Of course the rematch was in order and we believed that Roy just had an off night.We all have them.But Tony Tarver wanted Jones' ass real bad. He even told Jones ,has they touched gloves, that this time it would be different.And in the 2nd round Tarver put Jones' lights out.For the rest of Roy's fighting career he never woke up.

There's an interesting thread on the forum."Who's better Roy or Mike?"Let's see.I watched that exhibition match,fight,dog and pony show.I think the real question should be "If Roy Jones Had Quit When He Was Ahead Would He Have Been The Greatest?"I'm sure he must ask himself that a lot.



Antonio Tarver

If Only Had He Lived

"What's that you're reading?"asked my old man.
"The Ring Record Book.It's got all the fighters' records in it.It just arrived."
"Really,"said my father standing over me as I opened up the book and started to scanning it sitting in a chair in the living room.
"Well the look up Earl Mastro,"asked my dad enthusiastically
"I don't think he's in there."
"You just said that all the fighters are in there."
"Well,what I should have said is that the champions of today and the past are in there and the fighters that are around fighting today and then some of the great ones from the past who weren't champions are in the book."
"Then look up Earl Mastro."
I began flipping the pages of the famous fighters who the editor, Nat Fleischer, thought deserved print in his Bible Of Boxing. After a minute or so I gave my answer back to my dad.
"Nope.Earl Mastro is not in there."
"You sure?He's got to be in there."
"Nope.He's not in there."
My father paused and then took a breath.
"Look up Eddie Shea.He's got to be in there."
"Was he a champion?"
"He fought Earl Mastro in Chicago.There were no better fighters around than those two.Eddie Shea has got to be in there."
I reflipped through the section of champions and the the section of great fighters of the past.
"Nope.There's no Eddie Shea in the book either."
"I saw that fight with Earl Mastro and Eddie Shea at the Chicago Stadium with my uncle Chas.They were both Italian.Mastro was born in Chicago and Shea was born in Italy.My father had a piece of Earl Mastro.He was the best .All action in the ring.What a fighter.Him and Eddie Shea put on the best show Chicago ever seen."
"How come grandpa wasn't with you?"
"Oh,this was after he was killed.If he'd been around Earl Mastro would have been the champion."
"That must have been something to see that fight.,"i said.
"They sold out the Stadium weeks before the fight.You never saw such action.Everyone was on their et the whole time.If grandpa had only lived."
"Well,like I said they're not in the book."
My father paused again and then calmed down.
"It can't be much of a book if those two aren't in there.I would never buy something like that."
"Well,what can I say?"
My father took a step back and looked out the big bay window and began talking again but now his tone was very soft.
"If only your grandpa had lived things would be a lot different for all of us."
I put the book down and watched as my father turned to look back at me.
"You sure they're not in there?Try looking them up again.They've got to be in there,"he said so I could barely hear him.

The headline in the Chicago Tribune the day after my grandfather was gunned down a block from his house.