Shoot the Moon: Larry Holmes-Scott LeDoux
Posted: 12 Mar 2020, 22:34
Whether or not LeDoux had been encouraged to sell wolf tickets for a fight whose allure proved limited because of its standing as a mismatch is uncertain. What is certain, however, is that LeDoux poured forth his obscene, retrograde (even in 1980) convictions with a venom that did not seem coaxed or forced. He sounded genuinely aggrieved when he ranted to Doug Grow of the Minneapolis Star. “You know what it’s like in boxing now? A white guy has to knock a black guy out just to get a decision. White guys aren’t supposed to be hungry enough to fight. Hungry! I haven’t seen anybody hungry in this country. Look at this state. Do you see anybody hungry? Do you ever see a skinny Indian? I’ve never seen one. I can say that and not get in trouble because I’m part Indian. Let me tell you something. We never saw a welfare check in our house. My father worked; he did whatever it took. He worked in the mines, and he never asked for anything. He’s still up there working and all he’s going to have to show for it is a gold watch. But that watch will mean something to him. You don’t see the black man do that. You don’t see the Indian do that. If you want to eat, you work. That’s the way it was for my dad.”
What made these comments even more bizarre was the fact that LeDoux shared an unforgiving profession with Holmes, a profession in which upward mobility was little more than a heartbreaking myth for most of its credulous practitioners. It was Holmes, from Easton, Pennsylvania, who had reached the pinnacle, it was Holmes who had pulled up his bootstraps. From quarry to gravel pit to foundry, Holmes had clawed his way to distinction—and millionaire status—with the single-minded pursuit of a man who had been to hell and never wanted to see its brimstone again. He had shared ramshackle motel rooms on the road with his first trainer, Ernie Butler; he had worked as a truck driver for Strongwear Pants while fighting for pocket change at the Catholic Youth Center in Scranton, Pennsylvania. To earn the living that boxing could not provide, Holmes took up hard moonlighting as a sparring partner—first for Ali, fortunately lax during workout sessions, and then for Joe Frazier, for whom the word “relax” might as well have never been coined.
https://hannibalboxing.com/shoot-the-mo ... tt-ledoux/
What made these comments even more bizarre was the fact that LeDoux shared an unforgiving profession with Holmes, a profession in which upward mobility was little more than a heartbreaking myth for most of its credulous practitioners. It was Holmes, from Easton, Pennsylvania, who had reached the pinnacle, it was Holmes who had pulled up his bootstraps. From quarry to gravel pit to foundry, Holmes had clawed his way to distinction—and millionaire status—with the single-minded pursuit of a man who had been to hell and never wanted to see its brimstone again. He had shared ramshackle motel rooms on the road with his first trainer, Ernie Butler; he had worked as a truck driver for Strongwear Pants while fighting for pocket change at the Catholic Youth Center in Scranton, Pennsylvania. To earn the living that boxing could not provide, Holmes took up hard moonlighting as a sparring partner—first for Ali, fortunately lax during workout sessions, and then for Joe Frazier, for whom the word “relax” might as well have never been coined.
https://hannibalboxing.com/shoot-the-mo ... tt-ledoux/
. But it doesn't bother like it did on yesteryear. There were a lot of factors at play, and I have to accept that