By Daniel Lane
December 11, 2010
AUSTRALIAN boxing champion Vic Darchinyan has received extra motivation to destroy Mexico's Abner Mares in Washington today from the most unusual of sources - the hard-nosed American bookies.
Darchinyan, the IBO's super-flyweight champion, has moved up a weight division to fight the highly rated Mares for the IBO's bantamweight crown and the WBC's silver title, a new belt that replaces "interim" world titles.
However, Armenian-born Darchinyan was incensed to realise the US bookies had no faith in him when the betting market opened earlier in the week and they'd installed him as the underdog.
"Can you believe?" the devastating southpaw fumed down the phone. "I cannot believe it. I could not believe it. I fought for the world title 16 times, Mares has fought for it once. You know how it works, the Mexicans have Mexican money placed on him, but this I cannot believe. The bookies have no idea."
Darchinyan and Mares are competing in a Showtime bantamweight tournament which also features Ghanaian warrior Joseph Agbeko and Columbia's Yonnhy Perez. Between them the quartet has a combined total of 76 KO victories from their 109 bouts, and Darchinyan vowed to improve his 71.05 per cent KO rate by flooring Mares.
"It will be an early Christmas present for Australia," said Darchinyan, who is known internationally as the Raging Bull. "He is a good kid, very good. He drew with [Yonnhy] Perez in his last fight but that has only made me focus more on the job.
"They [Mares's supporters] see him as fast and a big puncher but I will punish him. I will make him look silly and I will then knock him out. The bookies will look silly, too."
Darchinyan, who until only recently included 1000 sit-ups, as many push-ups and 1½ hours of skipping in his daily training routine, said those who expected him to falter had placed too much of an emphasis on his age. At 34, the Sydneysider is nine years older than Mares.
"They count my age," he said. "They think I am too old for him, but boxing is not about age. My speed is good, and he will feel my power."
While Mares is assured of vocal support at the Emerald Queen Casino from the local Mexican community, Darchinyan was buoyed by the thought many Armenian-born Americans, and a healthy contingent of Australian supporters, would be present to cheer him. However, he's promised to convert Mares's supporters by brute force.
"After a couple of rounds the [Mares] crowd will change, they will turn to me," he said. "They will see I have come to fight, and they will respect that."
Darchinyan said he was as "pumped" for this bout in much the same as he was in 2004 when he was granted his first shot at the world title against Irene Pacheco. The Columbian was battered into submission over 11 brutal rounds.
"I was the underdog then too, but I knocked him out," he said. "My preparation for this fight has been very good. I am excited by this fight."
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Friday, December 10, 2010
Amir Khan looks for success in the ring, acceptance outside it
The world champion boxer hopes a win against Marcos Maidana in Las Vegas on Saturday will raise his profile and help dispel negative images of his Muslim faith.
Amir Khan
By Lance Pugmire
latimes
December 11, 2010
Amir Khan of England will be fighting in Las Vegas on Saturday night, but not simply to defend his World Boxing Assn. junior-welterweight belt.
He's in the U.S. to also test his faith that a Muslim athlete of Pakistani heritage can win the hearts of American fans.
"Politics is a lot different than sport," Khan said last week as he hurried out of his Hollywood apartment complex to attend Friday prayers at a Los Angeles mosque. "I can break barriers with my skills and change things about the way people think of Muslims.
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"We're all equal, we're all trying to succeed and we should all get along. That's what sport does: brings people together."
His optimism is rooted in his youth — on Wednesday, he turned 24 — and in his success. At 17 he became an overnight sensation after winning the silver medal at the 2004 Athens Olympics and today is a world champion in the talent-rich, 140-pound division.
Yet he knows firsthand how in Britain, as in the U.S., the fears that come with the war on terror can be triggered in an instant, and have occasionally made him a target of vitriol just because he is Muslim.
As one online critic wrote recently on a British boxing site: "We constantly have to fear Muslims. … It's always Muslims that blow our loved one[s] up. Why on earth wouldn't we hate a guy that supports the same faith as those guys?"
Khan, who in an interview last year said if he were white "maybe I'd have been a superstar in Britain," says he no longer believes that.
"You get past that," he said of the rants directed at him online and from some fight fans when he's in the ring. "You want to prove those people wrong."
He knows winning can help do that. To that end, Khan (23-1, 17 knockouts) successfully defended his belt in his U.S. debut in May, scoring a technical knockout of Brooklyn's Paulie Malignaggi in New York. On Saturday he will face hard-punching Argentine Marcos Maidana (29-1, 27 KOs).
Khan is eager to own the spotlight here.
"I'm the youngest British fighter ever to defend a title in America," he said. "I want to be known all around the world. To do that, you have to fight everywhere and prove yourself."
At morning prayers last week, Khan arrived late and kneeled outside the mosque in the overflow crowd of worshippers, some of whom were aware a rising sports star was in their midst.
"A lot of bad things are happening when a lot of good things should be" the focus, said John Shiakh, 48, a Bangladesh native who prayed with the boxer at the mosque that day. "So it's nice to have someone like him from our community promoting peace and how we really are."
Time spent with Khan offered a glimpse of that. Being in the U.S. is also quality family time. On one recent day, Khan's father, Shah, and his mother, Falak, are with him. As Falak irons her son's dress clothes, Amir's brother, Haroon, 19, chats on Skype with his two sisters in England — one of whom is pregnant.
Khan heads to the kitchen but avoids the Frosted Flakes atop the refrigerator. Instead, he devours a breakfast of eggs, beans, tomatoes, mackerel and coffee. He tells of the first time he walked into a boxing gym in his hometown of Bolton, England. He was 8 and his parents were looking to provide an outlet for his hyperactive behavior.
"I had something to divert my energy and I was willing to learn," Khan said. "I loved boxing — hitting the bag, the sweaty smell, even being punched."
As he talks, it is hard to miss the plaque nearby, given to him by a friend. It reads, "May Allah give you the strength to succeed in all that you do."
"Amir's religion is his religion," said Shah Khan, who moved to Britain from Pakistan as a boy. "He stands behind it 100%. We, as Muslims, have had a lot of negativity in this country, but everybody's not the same and Islam doesn't tell you to kill people. I would hope people could believe that and point to someone like Amir and say, 'Look what he's doing.' More guys like Amir can bring people together.
"Amir sets himself goals you don't think are possible and he achieves them. Now he wants to be the best in his sport, a legend as a sportsman in this country."
Two years ago, Amir Khan looked done after losing at home to an unknown, Colombia's Breidis Prescott, who flattened Khan twice in a fight that lasted 54 seconds. Khan fired his trainer and hired Freddie Roach, the renowned teacher who has guided the ascent of Manny Pacquiao.
When Khan became world junior-welterweight champion last year, he hit a crossroads: fight in larger arenas for larger purses in Britain and the rest of Europe or head to the U.S.
Against Maidana, Khan will be relying on his ring speed but perhaps even more on his training. He spent a lot of time sparring with Pacquiao, the best pound-for-pound boxer in the world.
"He's the only guy I know who can keep up with Pacquiao," Roach said. "He's the best listener I've ever had. Maidana was third on my list of the three guys they presented to him to fight, but Amir said, 'I want the best one first.'"
Khan worked hard to recover his career, more than willing to bend with the ever-shifting training camps from the Philippines to Texas to Hollywood to accommodate Roach's work with Pacquiao — "never complained once," Roach said.
Salam Al-Marayati, the president of the L.A.-based Muslim Public Affairs Council, said not since Hakeem Olajuwon has a Muslim athlete been capable of such unifying impact.
"The sports arena is where the Muslim athlete is completely integrated into society as the rest of us struggle to become integrated," he said. "I remember [former Laker] Jamaal Wilkes came to our mosque here back when he was playing, telling us the best way to overcome discrimination is success — in business, sports, whatever you do. Our job is to become part of American society, and Amir Khan represents that."
Sports marketing expert David Carter of USC's Marshall School of Business has looked at Khan's career too.
"He is a long way from the big time, but if he has a clear positioning statement — this is why I'm here — and if he wins, he has a chance to exact change, even if it starts in small and incremental ways," Carter said.
"There are signs of hope. He's a young kid who might be a little naïve, but who can fault him for wanting to send a positive image? That resonates at any age."
lance.pugmire@latimes.com
Amir Khan
By Lance Pugmire
latimes
December 11, 2010
Amir Khan of England will be fighting in Las Vegas on Saturday night, but not simply to defend his World Boxing Assn. junior-welterweight belt.
He's in the U.S. to also test his faith that a Muslim athlete of Pakistani heritage can win the hearts of American fans.
"Politics is a lot different than sport," Khan said last week as he hurried out of his Hollywood apartment complex to attend Friday prayers at a Los Angeles mosque. "I can break barriers with my skills and change things about the way people think of Muslims.
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"We're all equal, we're all trying to succeed and we should all get along. That's what sport does: brings people together."
His optimism is rooted in his youth — on Wednesday, he turned 24 — and in his success. At 17 he became an overnight sensation after winning the silver medal at the 2004 Athens Olympics and today is a world champion in the talent-rich, 140-pound division.
Yet he knows firsthand how in Britain, as in the U.S., the fears that come with the war on terror can be triggered in an instant, and have occasionally made him a target of vitriol just because he is Muslim.
As one online critic wrote recently on a British boxing site: "We constantly have to fear Muslims. … It's always Muslims that blow our loved one[s] up. Why on earth wouldn't we hate a guy that supports the same faith as those guys?"
Khan, who in an interview last year said if he were white "maybe I'd have been a superstar in Britain," says he no longer believes that.
"You get past that," he said of the rants directed at him online and from some fight fans when he's in the ring. "You want to prove those people wrong."
He knows winning can help do that. To that end, Khan (23-1, 17 knockouts) successfully defended his belt in his U.S. debut in May, scoring a technical knockout of Brooklyn's Paulie Malignaggi in New York. On Saturday he will face hard-punching Argentine Marcos Maidana (29-1, 27 KOs).
Khan is eager to own the spotlight here.
"I'm the youngest British fighter ever to defend a title in America," he said. "I want to be known all around the world. To do that, you have to fight everywhere and prove yourself."
At morning prayers last week, Khan arrived late and kneeled outside the mosque in the overflow crowd of worshippers, some of whom were aware a rising sports star was in their midst.
"A lot of bad things are happening when a lot of good things should be" the focus, said John Shiakh, 48, a Bangladesh native who prayed with the boxer at the mosque that day. "So it's nice to have someone like him from our community promoting peace and how we really are."
Time spent with Khan offered a glimpse of that. Being in the U.S. is also quality family time. On one recent day, Khan's father, Shah, and his mother, Falak, are with him. As Falak irons her son's dress clothes, Amir's brother, Haroon, 19, chats on Skype with his two sisters in England — one of whom is pregnant.
Khan heads to the kitchen but avoids the Frosted Flakes atop the refrigerator. Instead, he devours a breakfast of eggs, beans, tomatoes, mackerel and coffee. He tells of the first time he walked into a boxing gym in his hometown of Bolton, England. He was 8 and his parents were looking to provide an outlet for his hyperactive behavior.
"I had something to divert my energy and I was willing to learn," Khan said. "I loved boxing — hitting the bag, the sweaty smell, even being punched."
As he talks, it is hard to miss the plaque nearby, given to him by a friend. It reads, "May Allah give you the strength to succeed in all that you do."
"Amir's religion is his religion," said Shah Khan, who moved to Britain from Pakistan as a boy. "He stands behind it 100%. We, as Muslims, have had a lot of negativity in this country, but everybody's not the same and Islam doesn't tell you to kill people. I would hope people could believe that and point to someone like Amir and say, 'Look what he's doing.' More guys like Amir can bring people together.
"Amir sets himself goals you don't think are possible and he achieves them. Now he wants to be the best in his sport, a legend as a sportsman in this country."
Two years ago, Amir Khan looked done after losing at home to an unknown, Colombia's Breidis Prescott, who flattened Khan twice in a fight that lasted 54 seconds. Khan fired his trainer and hired Freddie Roach, the renowned teacher who has guided the ascent of Manny Pacquiao.
When Khan became world junior-welterweight champion last year, he hit a crossroads: fight in larger arenas for larger purses in Britain and the rest of Europe or head to the U.S.
Against Maidana, Khan will be relying on his ring speed but perhaps even more on his training. He spent a lot of time sparring with Pacquiao, the best pound-for-pound boxer in the world.
"He's the only guy I know who can keep up with Pacquiao," Roach said. "He's the best listener I've ever had. Maidana was third on my list of the three guys they presented to him to fight, but Amir said, 'I want the best one first.'"
Khan worked hard to recover his career, more than willing to bend with the ever-shifting training camps from the Philippines to Texas to Hollywood to accommodate Roach's work with Pacquiao — "never complained once," Roach said.
Salam Al-Marayati, the president of the L.A.-based Muslim Public Affairs Council, said not since Hakeem Olajuwon has a Muslim athlete been capable of such unifying impact.
"The sports arena is where the Muslim athlete is completely integrated into society as the rest of us struggle to become integrated," he said. "I remember [former Laker] Jamaal Wilkes came to our mosque here back when he was playing, telling us the best way to overcome discrimination is success — in business, sports, whatever you do. Our job is to become part of American society, and Amir Khan represents that."
Sports marketing expert David Carter of USC's Marshall School of Business has looked at Khan's career too.
"He is a long way from the big time, but if he has a clear positioning statement — this is why I'm here — and if he wins, he has a chance to exact change, even if it starts in small and incremental ways," Carter said.
"There are signs of hope. He's a young kid who might be a little naïve, but who can fault him for wanting to send a positive image? That resonates at any age."
lance.pugmire@latimes.com
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Right Is Might
August 04, 1958
Lightweight Champion Joe Brown retains crown despite leftish plot
By Martin Kane
S I
The prejudice against southpaws, held so firmly by prizefighters of orthodox right-handed style, is a sound indication that all is not rotten in boxing. Any boxer of strict upbringing follows a moral code handed down from Jim Figg and written on the tablets of Pierce Egan. The code commands that a jab be delivered with the left hand and a cross with the right. Thrown into the intimacy of the ring against a man who perversely jabs with his right and crosses with his left, who sticks his right foot forward when in all decency he should have his left out front, the proper boxer will feel unclean and hate himself in the morning.
Thus we have the judgment of Lightweight Champion Joe Brown, a fellow of good instincts, who says: "They should take all southpaws and drop them in the river."
Joe took a vow the other night after engaging southpaw Kenny Lane in a title defense witnessed by 11,500 sporting sinners, 10,994 of whom paid $69,203.50 in sordid cash to lick their lips at a spectacle that, in all truth, was exciting. The gate was a record sum for Houston, which segregates the toilets of white and colored but ignores the southpaw problem.
Joe's vow was brief and sincere. "No more southpaws for me," he said, holding up his left glove in forgivable confusion.
It is believed here that his regeneration is now solidly established and that never again will Joe Brown consent to enter the ring against a southpaw, especially Kenny Lane, unless the price makes it morally right. Lane clunked him good in a very close fight and furthermore withstood some of Brown's finer punches with saucy indifference, whamming him back with right hooks and left crosses until you would have thought the forces of righteousness would surely be defeated at this prelude to Armageddon.
The experience must have left a bad taste in Brown's mouth because he began immediately to talk of taking on welterweights in his next crusade. As for Lane, he howled that he had been robbed. His part-time manager, Jack Kearns, did not quite make this claim, holding only that he had given the fighter the bad advice to coast through the 15th round and thus cost his boy the fight. Later he confessed under torture that it is better for a manager to take the blame for a lost fight than let his fighter's reputation suffer.
A couple of nights later at Los Angeles, the Rademacher- Zora Folley fight was not so inspiring as the Brown-Lane affair, although again good style and good punching came through. Zora Folley had the style. The Veep was tense, awkward and feckless.
He was either trying to counter-punch a counterpuncher or he was remembering those seven knockdowns at Seattle and scheming to avoid a repetition by changing his style—an awkward word in this connotation. Folley promptly turned stalker, which is against his nature, and knocked Rademacher down four times in four rounds. Rademacher now has an EKA (earned knockdown average) of 5.5 in two fights, and the International Boxing Club is asking waivers on him.
There are a couple of television fights coming up which will be worth watching for essentially the same reason. They will present promising newcomers against old hands on the TV screen. At Chicago Stadium on August 6 (a Wednesday) Sonny Liston, whose maiden TV appearance last May resulted in a knockout of Julio Mederos, as anticipated, will take on the much-tougher Wayne Bethea, who this year has won over Young Jack Johnson and lost to Nino Valdes. A couple of nights later (Friday, August 8) unbeaten but nationally invisible Gene Armstrong will fight none other than Rory Calhoun, an enormous step up in class for Armstrong, even though his 14-fight streak includes victories over Charley Joseph, Rudy Sawyer and Randy Sandy. Boxer Armstrong has only one TKO victory on his record and will be up against one of the heavier punchers so that it seems sensible to pick Calhoun. Glancing at the other side of the coin, we will choose newcomer Liston over veteran Bethea.
Lightweight Champion Joe Brown retains crown despite leftish plot
By Martin Kane
S I
The prejudice against southpaws, held so firmly by prizefighters of orthodox right-handed style, is a sound indication that all is not rotten in boxing. Any boxer of strict upbringing follows a moral code handed down from Jim Figg and written on the tablets of Pierce Egan. The code commands that a jab be delivered with the left hand and a cross with the right. Thrown into the intimacy of the ring against a man who perversely jabs with his right and crosses with his left, who sticks his right foot forward when in all decency he should have his left out front, the proper boxer will feel unclean and hate himself in the morning.
Thus we have the judgment of Lightweight Champion Joe Brown, a fellow of good instincts, who says: "They should take all southpaws and drop them in the river."
Joe took a vow the other night after engaging southpaw Kenny Lane in a title defense witnessed by 11,500 sporting sinners, 10,994 of whom paid $69,203.50 in sordid cash to lick their lips at a spectacle that, in all truth, was exciting. The gate was a record sum for Houston, which segregates the toilets of white and colored but ignores the southpaw problem.
Joe's vow was brief and sincere. "No more southpaws for me," he said, holding up his left glove in forgivable confusion.
It is believed here that his regeneration is now solidly established and that never again will Joe Brown consent to enter the ring against a southpaw, especially Kenny Lane, unless the price makes it morally right. Lane clunked him good in a very close fight and furthermore withstood some of Brown's finer punches with saucy indifference, whamming him back with right hooks and left crosses until you would have thought the forces of righteousness would surely be defeated at this prelude to Armageddon.
The experience must have left a bad taste in Brown's mouth because he began immediately to talk of taking on welterweights in his next crusade. As for Lane, he howled that he had been robbed. His part-time manager, Jack Kearns, did not quite make this claim, holding only that he had given the fighter the bad advice to coast through the 15th round and thus cost his boy the fight. Later he confessed under torture that it is better for a manager to take the blame for a lost fight than let his fighter's reputation suffer.
A couple of nights later at Los Angeles, the Rademacher- Zora Folley fight was not so inspiring as the Brown-Lane affair, although again good style and good punching came through. Zora Folley had the style. The Veep was tense, awkward and feckless.
He was either trying to counter-punch a counterpuncher or he was remembering those seven knockdowns at Seattle and scheming to avoid a repetition by changing his style—an awkward word in this connotation. Folley promptly turned stalker, which is against his nature, and knocked Rademacher down four times in four rounds. Rademacher now has an EKA (earned knockdown average) of 5.5 in two fights, and the International Boxing Club is asking waivers on him.
There are a couple of television fights coming up which will be worth watching for essentially the same reason. They will present promising newcomers against old hands on the TV screen. At Chicago Stadium on August 6 (a Wednesday) Sonny Liston, whose maiden TV appearance last May resulted in a knockout of Julio Mederos, as anticipated, will take on the much-tougher Wayne Bethea, who this year has won over Young Jack Johnson and lost to Nino Valdes. A couple of nights later (Friday, August 8) unbeaten but nationally invisible Gene Armstrong will fight none other than Rory Calhoun, an enormous step up in class for Armstrong, even though his 14-fight streak includes victories over Charley Joseph, Rudy Sawyer and Randy Sandy. Boxer Armstrong has only one TKO victory on his record and will be up against one of the heavier punchers so that it seems sensible to pick Calhoun. Glancing at the other side of the coin, we will choose newcomer Liston over veteran Bethea.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Amir Khan is three days away from the biggest test of his chin
By Bennie
Amir Khan is three days away from the biggest test of his chin since it failed alarmingly against a wild Colombian by the name of Breidis Prescott in September 2008.
It looked all over for the Bolton youngster, smashed inside a minute, but Khan was brought back with remarkable speed as he busted up Mexican great Marco Antonio Barrera, linked up with trainer Freddie Roach in the States, moved up a weight and won the WBA light-welterweight title, then retained against two non-punchers.
Now comes Marcos Maidana, a big-hitting challenger from Argentina who brings a 29-1 (27) record to Las Vegas on Saturday night for his long-awaited showdown with Khan. Maidana, 27, earned his chance 18 months ago with a thrilling six-round stoppage of the much-touted Victor Ortiz in Los Angeles, climbing off the floor three times to outlast and outgame Ortiz, since when he has fought and won three times.
He could not be avoided forever. The 24-year-old Khan has definitely improved since Prescott and he goes in as the betting favourite - but what happens when Maidana tags him on the chin?
Amir Khan is three days away from the biggest test of his chin since it failed alarmingly against a wild Colombian by the name of Breidis Prescott in September 2008.
It looked all over for the Bolton youngster, smashed inside a minute, but Khan was brought back with remarkable speed as he busted up Mexican great Marco Antonio Barrera, linked up with trainer Freddie Roach in the States, moved up a weight and won the WBA light-welterweight title, then retained against two non-punchers.
Now comes Marcos Maidana, a big-hitting challenger from Argentina who brings a 29-1 (27) record to Las Vegas on Saturday night for his long-awaited showdown with Khan. Maidana, 27, earned his chance 18 months ago with a thrilling six-round stoppage of the much-touted Victor Ortiz in Los Angeles, climbing off the floor three times to outlast and outgame Ortiz, since when he has fought and won three times.
He could not be avoided forever. The 24-year-old Khan has definitely improved since Prescott and he goes in as the betting favourite - but what happens when Maidana tags him on the chin?
Through the Eyes of a Child
By Barbara Murray
When I was seven years old in 1941, my family sat in the living room to listen to President Roosevelt speak on the radio. He was announcing the invasion of Pearl Harbor by Japan. He spoke of the losses the United States had suffered. The numbers had not yet been determined of the dead, but the President spoke very grimly of the event. My recollection of that evening was watching the reactions of the men in our family. I was scared because I could tell this was very serious. The President had declared war against Japan.
Of course a lot of the men in our country began enlisting to serve in the military. Dad had told Mother he wanted to enlist with one of his friends. They proceeded to go to Ft. Olgethorpe to enlist. Daddy's friend was accepted. They sent Daddy home to gain some weight. He ate bananas until he hated them. He went back after a month and he lacked a very few pounds and still could not get accepted.
The women began filling the jobs the men had vacated. Just about all women, if they did not work, joined in making things to send the soldiers, such as first aid kits, sweaters, sox etc. Two women rented the house next door to us about that time. They each had one child. One of the women went to work and the other kept the children. Both of their husbands had been sent overseas.
Our uncle C. L. came by our house one day from work and said that the Peerless Woolen Mill was making wool blankets to send over seas to the soldiers. I am sure these were sent to the soldiers in places like Germany and other very cold countries.
The railroad at the foot of our hill stayed busy delivering and taking soldiers from Ft. Oglethorpe. I remember when we would hear a train coming, my sister Ruth and I would run down to the crossing and watch the train pass. We would wave to the soldiers and were very happy when they waved back at us. We did this until Mother found out what we were doing and we had to stop our greetings.
This was the time Polio had become an epidemic. While attending Bible School at our church I had become acquainted with one of the sweetest girls. We played together for two or three days and on the fourth day she did not attend. The next day we learned she had polio. She died within the week. The asfitity bags we had to wear around our neck like a necklace was what my parents said saved me from the disease. The odor alone would of should kill germs.
Our knowledge of what was going on during the war was kept up by our family radio times every evening. At times we would hear how many ships the U. S. had sunk. Sometime the news would not be good on our side. We seldom got to go to the movies, but I remember the newsreels and how terrible they were. That's when I realized how bad it was for our soldiers.
In 1943 Daddy got a job in Oak Ridge, Tennessee. He had informed us they would be making buttons for the soldiers’ uniforms. Little did we know what would take place after that. He found us a house to rent, which was government housing. We were enrolled in school, me in the fourth grade and Ruth in the second. I did like my school and was delighted because we had a gym. On Saturdays, Mother would let us go to our school and swing by ourselves. This was a treat because on the way home we would stop in where Charles was working in a drug store and he would make us an ice cream cone. We would make our way home, enjoying our treat.
One day we came home from school to find out that Daddy was in the clinic at the plant where he worked. He had gone to the area where he was to work that day and found two men there who were sick. He called for help and they were all three put to bed in the clinic. I don't know if they were sent to the hospital from there, I just know Daddy did not get to come home until the next day. It seems somehow they had a leak of radiation and one of the men died, and the other was alive when we moved. Dad had survived because he did not stay in the room long enough to be affected. He announced immediately that we were moving back to Georgia.
While in Oak Ridge, Charles became acquainted with a friend of his boss at the drug store where he had worked. He came home one day and mentioned this friend of his boss had a camera and enlarger he would sell him or give him. I not sure about the transaction but Charles did get both of them. After the war was over, the Chattanooga News Free Press had a picture on the front page of a man and his wife who had been arrested in Atlanta for spying for the enemy. The man was Al Slack, the same man who had befriended Charles with his camera and enlarger. He had worked for the Kodak Company.
We continued to keep up with what was happening either by radio or listening to the men in our family. The war had become very wide spread by now, the bombings by Hitler and his army and it looked as if there would never be an end. I remember hearing about the atom bomb being dropped on Japan. After some time we realized the deaths and ruins it had caused. It did stop the Japanese but I hope is never is used again.
The happiest of days was the day the war ended. I am not sure what time of day we heard it but it was good news. The lady who lived alone further up the hill from us had three sons in the Army. She ran down the hill crying and shouting, "the war is over!" Everyone was outside, including the two women next door to us and everyone was crying and yelling. The war was over.
Barbara Murray grew up as Barbara Jean Rice in Rossville, Georgia, and Oak Ridge, Tennessee.. She now lives in Bradenton, Florida. Her brother Charles is the author of The View from My Ridge (Canopic Publishing 2003)
When I was seven years old in 1941, my family sat in the living room to listen to President Roosevelt speak on the radio. He was announcing the invasion of Pearl Harbor by Japan. He spoke of the losses the United States had suffered. The numbers had not yet been determined of the dead, but the President spoke very grimly of the event. My recollection of that evening was watching the reactions of the men in our family. I was scared because I could tell this was very serious. The President had declared war against Japan.
Of course a lot of the men in our country began enlisting to serve in the military. Dad had told Mother he wanted to enlist with one of his friends. They proceeded to go to Ft. Olgethorpe to enlist. Daddy's friend was accepted. They sent Daddy home to gain some weight. He ate bananas until he hated them. He went back after a month and he lacked a very few pounds and still could not get accepted.
The women began filling the jobs the men had vacated. Just about all women, if they did not work, joined in making things to send the soldiers, such as first aid kits, sweaters, sox etc. Two women rented the house next door to us about that time. They each had one child. One of the women went to work and the other kept the children. Both of their husbands had been sent overseas.
Our uncle C. L. came by our house one day from work and said that the Peerless Woolen Mill was making wool blankets to send over seas to the soldiers. I am sure these were sent to the soldiers in places like Germany and other very cold countries.
The railroad at the foot of our hill stayed busy delivering and taking soldiers from Ft. Oglethorpe. I remember when we would hear a train coming, my sister Ruth and I would run down to the crossing and watch the train pass. We would wave to the soldiers and were very happy when they waved back at us. We did this until Mother found out what we were doing and we had to stop our greetings.
This was the time Polio had become an epidemic. While attending Bible School at our church I had become acquainted with one of the sweetest girls. We played together for two or three days and on the fourth day she did not attend. The next day we learned she had polio. She died within the week. The asfitity bags we had to wear around our neck like a necklace was what my parents said saved me from the disease. The odor alone would of should kill germs.
Our knowledge of what was going on during the war was kept up by our family radio times every evening. At times we would hear how many ships the U. S. had sunk. Sometime the news would not be good on our side. We seldom got to go to the movies, but I remember the newsreels and how terrible they were. That's when I realized how bad it was for our soldiers.
In 1943 Daddy got a job in Oak Ridge, Tennessee. He had informed us they would be making buttons for the soldiers’ uniforms. Little did we know what would take place after that. He found us a house to rent, which was government housing. We were enrolled in school, me in the fourth grade and Ruth in the second. I did like my school and was delighted because we had a gym. On Saturdays, Mother would let us go to our school and swing by ourselves. This was a treat because on the way home we would stop in where Charles was working in a drug store and he would make us an ice cream cone. We would make our way home, enjoying our treat.
One day we came home from school to find out that Daddy was in the clinic at the plant where he worked. He had gone to the area where he was to work that day and found two men there who were sick. He called for help and they were all three put to bed in the clinic. I don't know if they were sent to the hospital from there, I just know Daddy did not get to come home until the next day. It seems somehow they had a leak of radiation and one of the men died, and the other was alive when we moved. Dad had survived because he did not stay in the room long enough to be affected. He announced immediately that we were moving back to Georgia.
While in Oak Ridge, Charles became acquainted with a friend of his boss at the drug store where he had worked. He came home one day and mentioned this friend of his boss had a camera and enlarger he would sell him or give him. I not sure about the transaction but Charles did get both of them. After the war was over, the Chattanooga News Free Press had a picture on the front page of a man and his wife who had been arrested in Atlanta for spying for the enemy. The man was Al Slack, the same man who had befriended Charles with his camera and enlarger. He had worked for the Kodak Company.
We continued to keep up with what was happening either by radio or listening to the men in our family. The war had become very wide spread by now, the bombings by Hitler and his army and it looked as if there would never be an end. I remember hearing about the atom bomb being dropped on Japan. After some time we realized the deaths and ruins it had caused. It did stop the Japanese but I hope is never is used again.
The happiest of days was the day the war ended. I am not sure what time of day we heard it but it was good news. The lady who lived alone further up the hill from us had three sons in the Army. She ran down the hill crying and shouting, "the war is over!" Everyone was outside, including the two women next door to us and everyone was crying and yelling. The war was over.
Barbara Murray grew up as Barbara Jean Rice in Rossville, Georgia, and Oak Ridge, Tennessee.. She now lives in Bradenton, Florida. Her brother Charles is the author of The View from My Ridge (Canopic Publishing 2003)
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Jose Napoles
By Rick Farris
Throughout boxing history the welterweight division has been blessed with exceptional prizefighters. Names such as Walker, Ross, McLarnin, Armstrong, Robinson, Griffith and Leonard are just a few of the greats that come to mind. However, another name cannot be overlooked when considering great 147 pounders, Jose Napoles.
Napoles' nickname "Mantequilla" is the Spanish word for butter and anybody who had the pleasure of watching this brilliant boxer perform understands that Napoles’ style was as smooth as butter. It was a style that combined great boxing skill, devastating punching power and cool control of the ring. It was a style that created trouble for any opponent he faced. I'd have to say the best way to describe Napoles’ style is "timeless". It was a style that could unravel the old timers and the new breed as well.
I had the opportunity to watch this great welterweight's career evolve into a world championship during the years I was boxing. Napoles started out as a lightweight, but had to take on the best junior welterweights and welterweights in the world in order to get fights. Napoles beat them all in convincing fashion until finally, with the help of a great promoter, a champion finally gave him a title shot.
I'll give a brief run down of Napoles early career, however, my story begins in 1968, about a year before he won the title. Although I never boxed with Napoles, I know three men who challenged Mantequilla for the title. Ironically, all three of these welterweight contenders challenged Napoles for the crown twice. Much of my opinion of Napoles is based on the words of these three men who know him far better than those of us who saw him from ringside or watched him train in the gym. You get to know exactly how great a fighter is, or is not, after banging it out with him for fifteen rounds.
The three contenders whom I am referring to are Ernie "Indian Red" Lopez, Hedgeman Lewis and Armando Muniz. All three were talented and tough welterweights during the 60's and 70's, and all three agree that they never fought anybody better than Jose Napoles.
Jose Napoles was born in Cuba on April 13, 1940. He made his pro boxing debut in 1958, at the age of 18, and fought the first four years of his professional career in Cuba. Between 1958 and 1961, Napoles put together a record of 17-1 (8 KO's) before fleeing the regime of Fidel Castro and making his home in Mexico. Without the perils of living in a communist country, Napoles would now have a chance to make a name for himself in the world of boxing.
Mexico was almost perfect for Napoles, a Spanish speaking culture and rich in boxing talent. Many of the world's best boxers under 147 pounds hailed from Mexico and the Cuban lightweight would have the opposition necessary to take him to the next level. Of course, it wouldn't be easy. Napoles wasn't a Mexican.
After sixteen months of inactivity, Napoles resumed his boxing career in Mexico in July of 1962. Napoles quickly scored three straight knockouts before winning a ten round decision over Tony Perez. In a rematch, Perez was awarded a controversial decision over Napoles. Napoles scored two more victories including a decision over the highly regarded Baby Vasquez before losing again, this time in a ten rounder to Alfredo Urbina, one of the greatest lightweights Mexico ever produced.
After losing to Urbina, Napoles went on a rampage and won 18 straight with 17 knockouts, including KO's over Urbina and Perez in rematches. He also defeated Junior Welterweight champs Carlos Hernandez and Eddie Perkins, Adolph Pruitt and scored two knockouts over L.C. Morgan. After losing on a cut to Morgan in their third fight, Napoles KO'd Morgan for the third time. From there, Napoles put together a string of victories that would lead right up to a shot at the welterweight championship.
In 1968, the legendary George Parnassus became the boxing promoter for the newly built "Forum" in Inglewood, California. Parnassus had promoted boxing for years in the Los Angeles area, as well as in Mexico. Parnassus had a connection that would allow him to bring the very best talent up from below the border to Los Angeles. He would feature the very best Mexican stars at the Forum and it was here that many would become world champions. Champions such as Ruben Olivares, Chucho Castillo and Carlos Zarate won world titles in Parnassus promotions at the Forum, and so did Jose "Mantequilla" Napoles.
Napoles made his U.S. debut at the Forum in Parnassus' initial promotion that featured bantamweight contenders Jesus Pimentel and Chucho Castillo. I was anxious to see Napoles and was at the Forum that night. However, Mantequilla didn't give us a long look. He KO'ed Lloyd Marshall half way thru the opening round.
A few months later I got a little longer look at the future welterweight king when I saw him flatten Ireland's Des Rea in five rounds on the undercard of a featherweight main event featuring Dwight Hawkins and Frankie Crawford at the Forum.
Hawkins was the number one rated featherweight at the time and helped train me for manager Johnny Flores. I had heard Flores and Hawkins talk about how great a fighter this Napoles was and after seeing him in person at the Forum and in the gym I had to agree. Anybody amazed by the talent of Roy Jones Jr. would be a lot less impressed had they seen Jose Napoles up close.
In April of 1969, Jose Napoles would finally get a shot at World Welterweight Champion Curtis Cokes. Napoles was 29-years-old and had been fighting professionally and defeating the best for 11 years when he stepped into the ring at the Forum before a sellout crowd of more than 18,000. Many of the spectators had come up from Mexico in buses that Parnassus had chartered and the sound of mariachis filled the arena. Mexico had adopted the transplanted Cuban as one of their own and when Napoles climbed thru the ropes the Forum exploded with excitement.
Napoles had his way with Cokes and battered the champion at well. After 13 rounds referee Dick young stopped the fight to save Cokes from further punishment. Jose Napoles had escaped communism, defeated the best in three divisions and now, after 11 difficult years was the Welterweight Champion of the world.
Less than three months after winning the title, Napoles gave Cokes a rematch and again stopped the former champion in the 13th round. Like most champions of the era, Napoles didn't sit on the title between title defenses and stayed sharp with several non-title fights, which he won by knockout. Mantequilla finished out 1969 with a unanimous fifteen round decision over former welterweight and middleweight champ Emile Griffith in his second defense of the title.
In 1970, Napoles KO'd number one rated Ernie "Indian Red" Lopez in fifteen rounds and scored two more knockouts in non-title matches. Napoles closed out 1970 with his fourth title defense in Syracuse, New York against Billy Backus, the nephew of former champ Carmen Basilio.
Backus was given little chance of beating Napoles. However, after opening a cut over the champion's eye with a head butt in the 4th round, the bout was stopped and awarded to Backus.
Six months later, on June 6, 1971, Napoles would regain his title by destroying Backus in six rounds at the Forum. I was 19-years-old at the time and had been fighting professionally for exactly one year. I was scheduled to fight on the undercard of the Napoles-Backus rematch and remember all the excitement in the dressing room after Napoles had regained the title. I had won my fight that night but the biggest thrill for me was not my win, but having Carmen Basilio compliment me after my fight. Basilio had worked his nephew's corner that night and was kind enough to recognize that I had done well in my fight.
My most vivid memory of Napoles took place six months later, as he trained for his next title defense against Hedgeman Lewis. This would be one of two championship fights at the Forum along with a World Bantamweight title fight between champion Ruben Olivares and Jesus Pimentel.
I was one of Ruben Olivares' sparring partners for the Pimentel fight and each day we would workout immediately following Napoles before a paying audience. Promoter George Parnassus had his office at the old Elks Building, located right off Wilshire Blvd. near Alvarado St. in downtown Los Angeles. Today the Elks Building is the Park Plaza Hotel and sits right across from Macarthur Park.
Parnassus had a gym set up in the ball room of the Elks Bldg. with a ring at one end of the room against the stage and a couple of heavy bags, a speed bag and double-end bag on the stage. People would pay $1 admission to watch the boxers train and we'd usually have several hundred spectators for each workout. I recall that former lightweight champion Lauro Salas, one of Parnassus' friends who'd fallen on hard times, would collect admission at the door and Parnassus would let Salas keep the money so as the former champ could pay his rent and feed himself. Parnassus was a legendary promoter and had a legendary soft spot in his heart for ex-boxers.
Boxers are some of the friendliest people you could meet but people don't realize that most boxers, regardless of how nice, have a mean streak. This was especially true of Jose Napoles.
One of Napoles chief sparring partners was an L.A. club fighter named Baby Cassius. Baby Cassius (Eric Thomas) knew this all too well after sparring with the champ. I remember talking with Baby Cassius in the dressing room following one of his sparring sessions with Napoles. Both of Eric's eyes were swollen and his nose was bloody. Cassius would moan, "All I wanna do is earn a little Christmas money, but this guy is killing me". He also told me that he knew Napoles was drinking because he could smell alcohol on the champion as they were sparring. I didn't feel sorry for Baby Cassius because he didn't receive any worse an ass whipping from Napoles than what I (or any sparring partner) receive when trying to punch it out with a great world champ. That's the business. However, one incident involving Napoles between rounds of a sparring session will always stick out in my mind.
Napoles had an assistant trainer in L.A. named Phil Silvers. I never cared much for Silvers personally and it was obvious that Napoles didn't either. Silvers job was to tie the champions gloves and give him water between rounds of sparring sessions. One day, after pouring some water into Napoles mouth between rounds of a sparring session, the champ spit the water back into Silver's face. He then smirked and turned around. Not even the wildest fans watching the workout made a noise. I remember how surprised I was to see this, and obviously, so was everybody else. "What a jerk", I thought.
A couple of days later I had a strange experience with Napoles myself. One day after he finished sparring, I was warming up for my sparring session with Olivares. I was punching one of the two heavy bags on the stage and had my eye on Napoles as his trainer helped him slip on his bag gloves. I wanted to see if Napoles was ready to hit the bag that I was warming up on and if he was I'd move to the other bag. Napoles was the champ and he could hit whatever bag he wanted to hit. It was his show, not mine. When I saw Napoles moving my way I assumed he wanted the bag I was punching and I respectfully moved to the other bag. Napoles started banging away at the bag and I began doing the same on the other bag.
As the next round started I saw Napoles approaching me out of the corner of my eye and he tapped me on the shoulder. When I looked at him he motioned for me to move away from the bag and pointed at the other bag. "No problem", I thought to myself, and moved to the other bag. As I'm punching the other bag I see Napoles heading toward me again and noticed a few of his friends smiling. It occurred to me that Napoles was either trying to play a joke on me, or intimidate me, or whatever. Napoles again tapped me on the shoulder and waved me off the bag. When Napoles began to hit the bag, I tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the other bag, then stepped in front of him and began hitting the bag again. Napoles grabs my arm and I turn to face him.
In my mind, I had set myself up for an ass whipping by the welterweight champion of the world. However, a fighter does not let himself get pushed around by another fighter and I looked him directly in the eyes. We stood face-to-face for a few seconds that seemed like hours to me. Napoles had a very serious look on his face and I didn't know what was coming next. My trainer, Mel Epstein, saw what was going on and quickly stepped in. "C'mon Ricky, let's get ready for Olivares", he said, trying to pull me out of the situation. All of a sudden Napoles begins to smile and turns toward Epstein, motioning that it was Ok for me to continue working on the bag.
I will never know what Napoles was doing but I assume he was having fun trying to see how much I would take. One thing I did notice was that Napoles reeked of alcohol. I was surprised, despite having this told me earlier by Baby Cassius.
A couple of weeks later, Olivares stopped Jesus Pimentel in twelve rounds and Napoles won a very close fifteen round decision over the flashy Hedgeman Lewis. Lewis was a very flashy welterweight along the lines of a Sugar Ray Leonard, but not the class of Napoles. I realized that Napoles partying had affected his performance. three years later, Napoles and Lewis fight again and this time Mantequilla would ruin Hedge. Lewis was never the same after the beating he took from Napoles in this title fight.
The same was true with Ernie 'Indian Red" Lopez. Three years after losing to Napoles in his first bid for the welterweight crown, Lopez was given a second chance in 1973. After the beating Lopez took from Napoles in this fight he was never any good again. I remember talking with Lopez at the Main Street Gym in Los Angeles just a few days after his second fight with Napoles. I told Ernie I thought he gave Napoles a good fight and was shocked by Ernie's response. "I'll never fight that guy again . . . for any amount of money!" These aren't the kind of words that came out of the mouth of Ernie "Indian Red" Lopez.
At 34, Jose Napoles, a blown-up lightweight who had become one of the greatest welterweight champs in history, challenged another great fighter, Carlos Monzon for the undisputed Middleweight title. Napoles was stopped in seven rounds.
Napoles defended the welterweight title fifteen times and when he was the undisputed champ, something that no longer exists. His last two title defenses were against a friend of mine, Armando Muniz.
Like Lewis, Muniz caught Napoles out of shape in their first match and almost won the title. However, in the rematch held three months later in Mexico City, Napoles had his way with Muniz and scored a unanimous fifteen round decision win.
On December 6, 1975, after holding the welterweight title nearly eight years, Jose Napoles would make his last defense of the title at age 35. Englishman John Stracey would stop Napoles in his hometown of Mexico City.
After the fight, Napoles would announce his retirement from boxing after spending more than half his life in the professional boxing ring.
When thinking about the great welterweights in boxing, don't forget the guy they called 'Mantequilla". He was a true all-time great.
Throughout boxing history the welterweight division has been blessed with exceptional prizefighters. Names such as Walker, Ross, McLarnin, Armstrong, Robinson, Griffith and Leonard are just a few of the greats that come to mind. However, another name cannot be overlooked when considering great 147 pounders, Jose Napoles.
Napoles' nickname "Mantequilla" is the Spanish word for butter and anybody who had the pleasure of watching this brilliant boxer perform understands that Napoles’ style was as smooth as butter. It was a style that combined great boxing skill, devastating punching power and cool control of the ring. It was a style that created trouble for any opponent he faced. I'd have to say the best way to describe Napoles’ style is "timeless". It was a style that could unravel the old timers and the new breed as well.
I had the opportunity to watch this great welterweight's career evolve into a world championship during the years I was boxing. Napoles started out as a lightweight, but had to take on the best junior welterweights and welterweights in the world in order to get fights. Napoles beat them all in convincing fashion until finally, with the help of a great promoter, a champion finally gave him a title shot.
I'll give a brief run down of Napoles early career, however, my story begins in 1968, about a year before he won the title. Although I never boxed with Napoles, I know three men who challenged Mantequilla for the title. Ironically, all three of these welterweight contenders challenged Napoles for the crown twice. Much of my opinion of Napoles is based on the words of these three men who know him far better than those of us who saw him from ringside or watched him train in the gym. You get to know exactly how great a fighter is, or is not, after banging it out with him for fifteen rounds.
The three contenders whom I am referring to are Ernie "Indian Red" Lopez, Hedgeman Lewis and Armando Muniz. All three were talented and tough welterweights during the 60's and 70's, and all three agree that they never fought anybody better than Jose Napoles.
Jose Napoles was born in Cuba on April 13, 1940. He made his pro boxing debut in 1958, at the age of 18, and fought the first four years of his professional career in Cuba. Between 1958 and 1961, Napoles put together a record of 17-1 (8 KO's) before fleeing the regime of Fidel Castro and making his home in Mexico. Without the perils of living in a communist country, Napoles would now have a chance to make a name for himself in the world of boxing.
Mexico was almost perfect for Napoles, a Spanish speaking culture and rich in boxing talent. Many of the world's best boxers under 147 pounds hailed from Mexico and the Cuban lightweight would have the opposition necessary to take him to the next level. Of course, it wouldn't be easy. Napoles wasn't a Mexican.
After sixteen months of inactivity, Napoles resumed his boxing career in Mexico in July of 1962. Napoles quickly scored three straight knockouts before winning a ten round decision over Tony Perez. In a rematch, Perez was awarded a controversial decision over Napoles. Napoles scored two more victories including a decision over the highly regarded Baby Vasquez before losing again, this time in a ten rounder to Alfredo Urbina, one of the greatest lightweights Mexico ever produced.
After losing to Urbina, Napoles went on a rampage and won 18 straight with 17 knockouts, including KO's over Urbina and Perez in rematches. He also defeated Junior Welterweight champs Carlos Hernandez and Eddie Perkins, Adolph Pruitt and scored two knockouts over L.C. Morgan. After losing on a cut to Morgan in their third fight, Napoles KO'd Morgan for the third time. From there, Napoles put together a string of victories that would lead right up to a shot at the welterweight championship.
In 1968, the legendary George Parnassus became the boxing promoter for the newly built "Forum" in Inglewood, California. Parnassus had promoted boxing for years in the Los Angeles area, as well as in Mexico. Parnassus had a connection that would allow him to bring the very best talent up from below the border to Los Angeles. He would feature the very best Mexican stars at the Forum and it was here that many would become world champions. Champions such as Ruben Olivares, Chucho Castillo and Carlos Zarate won world titles in Parnassus promotions at the Forum, and so did Jose "Mantequilla" Napoles.
Napoles made his U.S. debut at the Forum in Parnassus' initial promotion that featured bantamweight contenders Jesus Pimentel and Chucho Castillo. I was anxious to see Napoles and was at the Forum that night. However, Mantequilla didn't give us a long look. He KO'ed Lloyd Marshall half way thru the opening round.
A few months later I got a little longer look at the future welterweight king when I saw him flatten Ireland's Des Rea in five rounds on the undercard of a featherweight main event featuring Dwight Hawkins and Frankie Crawford at the Forum.
Hawkins was the number one rated featherweight at the time and helped train me for manager Johnny Flores. I had heard Flores and Hawkins talk about how great a fighter this Napoles was and after seeing him in person at the Forum and in the gym I had to agree. Anybody amazed by the talent of Roy Jones Jr. would be a lot less impressed had they seen Jose Napoles up close.
In April of 1969, Jose Napoles would finally get a shot at World Welterweight Champion Curtis Cokes. Napoles was 29-years-old and had been fighting professionally and defeating the best for 11 years when he stepped into the ring at the Forum before a sellout crowd of more than 18,000. Many of the spectators had come up from Mexico in buses that Parnassus had chartered and the sound of mariachis filled the arena. Mexico had adopted the transplanted Cuban as one of their own and when Napoles climbed thru the ropes the Forum exploded with excitement.
Napoles had his way with Cokes and battered the champion at well. After 13 rounds referee Dick young stopped the fight to save Cokes from further punishment. Jose Napoles had escaped communism, defeated the best in three divisions and now, after 11 difficult years was the Welterweight Champion of the world.
Less than three months after winning the title, Napoles gave Cokes a rematch and again stopped the former champion in the 13th round. Like most champions of the era, Napoles didn't sit on the title between title defenses and stayed sharp with several non-title fights, which he won by knockout. Mantequilla finished out 1969 with a unanimous fifteen round decision over former welterweight and middleweight champ Emile Griffith in his second defense of the title.
In 1970, Napoles KO'd number one rated Ernie "Indian Red" Lopez in fifteen rounds and scored two more knockouts in non-title matches. Napoles closed out 1970 with his fourth title defense in Syracuse, New York against Billy Backus, the nephew of former champ Carmen Basilio.
Backus was given little chance of beating Napoles. However, after opening a cut over the champion's eye with a head butt in the 4th round, the bout was stopped and awarded to Backus.
Six months later, on June 6, 1971, Napoles would regain his title by destroying Backus in six rounds at the Forum. I was 19-years-old at the time and had been fighting professionally for exactly one year. I was scheduled to fight on the undercard of the Napoles-Backus rematch and remember all the excitement in the dressing room after Napoles had regained the title. I had won my fight that night but the biggest thrill for me was not my win, but having Carmen Basilio compliment me after my fight. Basilio had worked his nephew's corner that night and was kind enough to recognize that I had done well in my fight.
My most vivid memory of Napoles took place six months later, as he trained for his next title defense against Hedgeman Lewis. This would be one of two championship fights at the Forum along with a World Bantamweight title fight between champion Ruben Olivares and Jesus Pimentel.
I was one of Ruben Olivares' sparring partners for the Pimentel fight and each day we would workout immediately following Napoles before a paying audience. Promoter George Parnassus had his office at the old Elks Building, located right off Wilshire Blvd. near Alvarado St. in downtown Los Angeles. Today the Elks Building is the Park Plaza Hotel and sits right across from Macarthur Park.
Parnassus had a gym set up in the ball room of the Elks Bldg. with a ring at one end of the room against the stage and a couple of heavy bags, a speed bag and double-end bag on the stage. People would pay $1 admission to watch the boxers train and we'd usually have several hundred spectators for each workout. I recall that former lightweight champion Lauro Salas, one of Parnassus' friends who'd fallen on hard times, would collect admission at the door and Parnassus would let Salas keep the money so as the former champ could pay his rent and feed himself. Parnassus was a legendary promoter and had a legendary soft spot in his heart for ex-boxers.
Boxers are some of the friendliest people you could meet but people don't realize that most boxers, regardless of how nice, have a mean streak. This was especially true of Jose Napoles.
One of Napoles chief sparring partners was an L.A. club fighter named Baby Cassius. Baby Cassius (Eric Thomas) knew this all too well after sparring with the champ. I remember talking with Baby Cassius in the dressing room following one of his sparring sessions with Napoles. Both of Eric's eyes were swollen and his nose was bloody. Cassius would moan, "All I wanna do is earn a little Christmas money, but this guy is killing me". He also told me that he knew Napoles was drinking because he could smell alcohol on the champion as they were sparring. I didn't feel sorry for Baby Cassius because he didn't receive any worse an ass whipping from Napoles than what I (or any sparring partner) receive when trying to punch it out with a great world champ. That's the business. However, one incident involving Napoles between rounds of a sparring session will always stick out in my mind.
Napoles had an assistant trainer in L.A. named Phil Silvers. I never cared much for Silvers personally and it was obvious that Napoles didn't either. Silvers job was to tie the champions gloves and give him water between rounds of sparring sessions. One day, after pouring some water into Napoles mouth between rounds of a sparring session, the champ spit the water back into Silver's face. He then smirked and turned around. Not even the wildest fans watching the workout made a noise. I remember how surprised I was to see this, and obviously, so was everybody else. "What a jerk", I thought.
A couple of days later I had a strange experience with Napoles myself. One day after he finished sparring, I was warming up for my sparring session with Olivares. I was punching one of the two heavy bags on the stage and had my eye on Napoles as his trainer helped him slip on his bag gloves. I wanted to see if Napoles was ready to hit the bag that I was warming up on and if he was I'd move to the other bag. Napoles was the champ and he could hit whatever bag he wanted to hit. It was his show, not mine. When I saw Napoles moving my way I assumed he wanted the bag I was punching and I respectfully moved to the other bag. Napoles started banging away at the bag and I began doing the same on the other bag.
As the next round started I saw Napoles approaching me out of the corner of my eye and he tapped me on the shoulder. When I looked at him he motioned for me to move away from the bag and pointed at the other bag. "No problem", I thought to myself, and moved to the other bag. As I'm punching the other bag I see Napoles heading toward me again and noticed a few of his friends smiling. It occurred to me that Napoles was either trying to play a joke on me, or intimidate me, or whatever. Napoles again tapped me on the shoulder and waved me off the bag. When Napoles began to hit the bag, I tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the other bag, then stepped in front of him and began hitting the bag again. Napoles grabs my arm and I turn to face him.
In my mind, I had set myself up for an ass whipping by the welterweight champion of the world. However, a fighter does not let himself get pushed around by another fighter and I looked him directly in the eyes. We stood face-to-face for a few seconds that seemed like hours to me. Napoles had a very serious look on his face and I didn't know what was coming next. My trainer, Mel Epstein, saw what was going on and quickly stepped in. "C'mon Ricky, let's get ready for Olivares", he said, trying to pull me out of the situation. All of a sudden Napoles begins to smile and turns toward Epstein, motioning that it was Ok for me to continue working on the bag.
I will never know what Napoles was doing but I assume he was having fun trying to see how much I would take. One thing I did notice was that Napoles reeked of alcohol. I was surprised, despite having this told me earlier by Baby Cassius.
A couple of weeks later, Olivares stopped Jesus Pimentel in twelve rounds and Napoles won a very close fifteen round decision over the flashy Hedgeman Lewis. Lewis was a very flashy welterweight along the lines of a Sugar Ray Leonard, but not the class of Napoles. I realized that Napoles partying had affected his performance. three years later, Napoles and Lewis fight again and this time Mantequilla would ruin Hedge. Lewis was never the same after the beating he took from Napoles in this title fight.
The same was true with Ernie 'Indian Red" Lopez. Three years after losing to Napoles in his first bid for the welterweight crown, Lopez was given a second chance in 1973. After the beating Lopez took from Napoles in this fight he was never any good again. I remember talking with Lopez at the Main Street Gym in Los Angeles just a few days after his second fight with Napoles. I told Ernie I thought he gave Napoles a good fight and was shocked by Ernie's response. "I'll never fight that guy again . . . for any amount of money!" These aren't the kind of words that came out of the mouth of Ernie "Indian Red" Lopez.
At 34, Jose Napoles, a blown-up lightweight who had become one of the greatest welterweight champs in history, challenged another great fighter, Carlos Monzon for the undisputed Middleweight title. Napoles was stopped in seven rounds.
Napoles defended the welterweight title fifteen times and when he was the undisputed champ, something that no longer exists. His last two title defenses were against a friend of mine, Armando Muniz.
Like Lewis, Muniz caught Napoles out of shape in their first match and almost won the title. However, in the rematch held three months later in Mexico City, Napoles had his way with Muniz and scored a unanimous fifteen round decision win.
On December 6, 1975, after holding the welterweight title nearly eight years, Jose Napoles would make his last defense of the title at age 35. Englishman John Stracey would stop Napoles in his hometown of Mexico City.
After the fight, Napoles would announce his retirement from boxing after spending more than half his life in the professional boxing ring.
When thinking about the great welterweights in boxing, don't forget the guy they called 'Mantequilla". He was a true all-time great.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
De La Hoya on Mosley Leaving: "It's a Slap in The Face!"
By Robert Morales/Boxing Scene
The President of Golden Boy Promotions, Oscar De La Hoya, is not happy with Shane Mosley at the moment. Mosley was promoted by Golden Boy for five years, but recently announced he was a free agent and could fight for the promoter of his choosing. The way De La Hoya sees it, he made Mosley millions of dollars and he's upset Mosley walked.
"I feel hurt by it," De La Hoya told BoxingScene.com. "I mean, obviously, I don't really let my personal feelings get in the way of the job we have to do. We want to do the best job possible for the fighters. When fighters do things like that, it hurts. It's sad because they don't realize what we've accomplished for them. There's a lot of work and you put a lot of energy into it and then you get slapped in the face."
Efforts to reach Mosley were unsuccessful. But the thinking in the industry is he left Golden Boy - in which he apparently still holds stock - to get the fight with WBO welterweight champion Manny Pacquiao. Since there is ongoing animosity between Golden Boy and Top Rank, who promote Pacquiao, Mosley's chances of fighting Pacquiao are considerably greater if Golden Boy is not involved.
De La Hoya's company is pushing very hard to get Juan Manuel Marquez a third fight with Pacquiao, but Bob Arum, CEO for Top Rank, says Mosley is the likely candidate to land the fight. Arum believes Mosley is a more marketable opponent than Marquez.
"I think Mosley is more marketable, but that's my opinion," Arum said to BoxingScene. "I think Mosley is someone who even non-boxing fans know. Everyone knows Shane Mosley."
Mosley's recent run has been far from spectacular. In his past two fights, he was dominated by Mayweather on May 1, and he did not look terrific in a draw with light-hitting Sergio Mora on a September 18.
The fight with Mora, which took place at Staples Center, also featured rising Mexican star Saul "Canelo" Alvarez. The event drew 13,591, but De La Hoya said most of those fans were there to see Alvarez. De La Hoya calls Arum's logic of Mosley "being more marketable" as an excuse to avoid a third fight with Marquez.
"This is my take on Bob Arum saying that Mosley has more of a household name," De La Hoya said. "Mosley's last pay-per-view in September, I think he drew about a thousand people and `Canelo' drew about 10,000 people. And I think `Canelo' drew probably 95 percent of the pay-per-view.
"So Bob Arum is saying, `Well, Mosley's a more credible opponent because he's more marketable.' That's not true, that's not true at all. Marquez is the fighter who everybody knows and who everybody wants to see against Pacquiao."
While Arum appears high on Mosley at the moment, he was far from impressed when Mosley fought to a draw with Mora in September. In fact, on this very website, Arum downplayed Mosley's marketability as a future Pacquiao opponent.
“Look, he’s going to be 40 and he’s in the lighter weights where speed is so important. He’s on a show with guys old enough to be his son. I read them saying Mosley was huffing and puffing for air in the fourth or fifth round,” stated Arum. “To me, that is the real tipoff for an aging fighter. Even Big George Foreman did that in his 40s but he always had that big, big punch like in the (Michael) Moorer fight."
“It’s like Hopkins, he still knows how to fight but who wants to pay to see him now? His fights are not very scintillating. What you see with Hopkins we’re beginning to see with Mosley. I guess Shane needs the money due to his matrimonial situation. I’ve always considered Shane to be a nice guy but this is what happens to fighters when they age."
Robert Morales covers boxing for the Los Angeles Daily News, Long Beach Press-Telegram and BoxingScene.com
The President of Golden Boy Promotions, Oscar De La Hoya, is not happy with Shane Mosley at the moment. Mosley was promoted by Golden Boy for five years, but recently announced he was a free agent and could fight for the promoter of his choosing. The way De La Hoya sees it, he made Mosley millions of dollars and he's upset Mosley walked.
"I feel hurt by it," De La Hoya told BoxingScene.com. "I mean, obviously, I don't really let my personal feelings get in the way of the job we have to do. We want to do the best job possible for the fighters. When fighters do things like that, it hurts. It's sad because they don't realize what we've accomplished for them. There's a lot of work and you put a lot of energy into it and then you get slapped in the face."
Efforts to reach Mosley were unsuccessful. But the thinking in the industry is he left Golden Boy - in which he apparently still holds stock - to get the fight with WBO welterweight champion Manny Pacquiao. Since there is ongoing animosity between Golden Boy and Top Rank, who promote Pacquiao, Mosley's chances of fighting Pacquiao are considerably greater if Golden Boy is not involved.
De La Hoya's company is pushing very hard to get Juan Manuel Marquez a third fight with Pacquiao, but Bob Arum, CEO for Top Rank, says Mosley is the likely candidate to land the fight. Arum believes Mosley is a more marketable opponent than Marquez.
"I think Mosley is more marketable, but that's my opinion," Arum said to BoxingScene. "I think Mosley is someone who even non-boxing fans know. Everyone knows Shane Mosley."
Mosley's recent run has been far from spectacular. In his past two fights, he was dominated by Mayweather on May 1, and he did not look terrific in a draw with light-hitting Sergio Mora on a September 18.
The fight with Mora, which took place at Staples Center, also featured rising Mexican star Saul "Canelo" Alvarez. The event drew 13,591, but De La Hoya said most of those fans were there to see Alvarez. De La Hoya calls Arum's logic of Mosley "being more marketable" as an excuse to avoid a third fight with Marquez.
"This is my take on Bob Arum saying that Mosley has more of a household name," De La Hoya said. "Mosley's last pay-per-view in September, I think he drew about a thousand people and `Canelo' drew about 10,000 people. And I think `Canelo' drew probably 95 percent of the pay-per-view.
"So Bob Arum is saying, `Well, Mosley's a more credible opponent because he's more marketable.' That's not true, that's not true at all. Marquez is the fighter who everybody knows and who everybody wants to see against Pacquiao."
While Arum appears high on Mosley at the moment, he was far from impressed when Mosley fought to a draw with Mora in September. In fact, on this very website, Arum downplayed Mosley's marketability as a future Pacquiao opponent.
“Look, he’s going to be 40 and he’s in the lighter weights where speed is so important. He’s on a show with guys old enough to be his son. I read them saying Mosley was huffing and puffing for air in the fourth or fifth round,” stated Arum. “To me, that is the real tipoff for an aging fighter. Even Big George Foreman did that in his 40s but he always had that big, big punch like in the (Michael) Moorer fight."
“It’s like Hopkins, he still knows how to fight but who wants to pay to see him now? His fights are not very scintillating. What you see with Hopkins we’re beginning to see with Mosley. I guess Shane needs the money due to his matrimonial situation. I’ve always considered Shane to be a nice guy but this is what happens to fighters when they age."
Robert Morales covers boxing for the Los Angeles Daily News, Long Beach Press-Telegram and BoxingScene.com
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Fighting Greg Haugen: An Opening and Closing of My Eyes
By Jeff Bumpus
(as published by The Boxing Historian)
In July of 1985 boxing seemed to have dried up. There were no fights on the professional horizon for me. The gym was pretty dead because all the amateur fighters had been through their tournaments until the fall. A lull had settled in.
The people that my manager and I associated with in order to obtain our fights were famous for “the midnight call.” They weren’t exactly the top agency in the business. They played a more peripheral role in the boxing world. Card falling apart? Call these guys. They can save your show. They had me and another fighter with whom they hoped to break into the upper echelon of respect in the boxing world.
ESPN's Top Rank series was at Resorts International Hotel and Casino that week and the scheduled headline bout was John Wesley Meekins of New York City vs. Greg Haugen of Auburn, Washington. Meekins was an ESPN favorite and Haugen had a solid amateur background, winning over 300 amateur fights and several Rocky Mountain Golden Glove titles.
Turns out that Meekins wasn’t going to make this date for Haugen so we were contacted. If memory serves, the bouts were on a Monday or Tuesday night. The preceding Friday night I got a phone call from my manager that went something like this: "Findem and Cheatem Enterprises called me. They want you to stay ready this weekend. I don’t know what the weight is, so don’t eat too much. They might have an ESPN fight for you. Stay ready! Some guy named Hogan." (I wondered if I would get a leg drop and he would scream "Brother!")
That was a common theme and it’s my own fault truthfully. If you aren’t a proven commodity with an extensive amateur background before anyone ever puts a dime into your career, you end up with seat-of-the-pants promotions. I started boxing as a pro at age 22 after only 20 amateur fights. Most fighters who are smooth and well-schooled have been boxing since they are ten years old. I was on a learning curve that resembled running up a mountainside.
The weekend passed with no more word from management. It appeared to be another one of those “get ready! get ready! never mind” moments. Then on Monday morning I got a call from my manager. "The flight leaves South Bend at 9:00 am. You fly to Detroit and catch another at 11:30 am. Then you fly to Philadelphia and Top Rank will pick you up there."
Fly? You mean in an airplane? I’d never even been in an airplane before and you want me to get into two different planes on the same day, with people driving who hide behind a cabin door so you can’t see them, like they are ashamed of how this is going to turn out and just close the door!?
I wasn’t afraid of flying; I was afraid of crashing. Those are two separate things. One is a jolting stop, the other is pretty smooth. Regardless, I packed my things for overnight in Atlantic City and drove to the airport in South Bend. The world's noisiest twin engine monstrosity flew me to Detroit with the Peter, Paul and Mary recording of "Leaving on a Jet Plane" constantly playing through my mind. Maybe getting punched in the head will be a good thing, I thought; it might change the song.
Detroit airport was just a hair larger than South Bend's. Just a hair. Navigate to the right gate and find the right plane so I don’t end up in Tucumcari. Hey, this is pretty cool. I can handle this.
When we landed in Philly I was now a veteran of two flights and very experienced, you see? At the bottom of the escalator was a man in a uniform holding a sign, just as I'd been told he would be. We got in the limo and I thought, this is so awesome. I’m in "Rocky’s” hometown! Right across the road from the airport, basically, was the spectrum and the colossal Veteran's Stadium. How many football games from that spot had I watched on Sunday afternoons? The limo driver kept asking me if I was comfortable and did I want the TV on, etc. You have to understand that I was about as young a 22-year old as anybody has ever been, so this was all met with wide eyes and a "Who . . . me?" kind of attitude.
We commenced the hour-long drive to Atlantic City.
Atlantic City should be divided into two parts. The boardwalk/casino areas and Atlantic City. The money is in the boardwalk. The struggle is in Atlantic City. I couldn’t get over that.
Resorts International is an immense hotel that could probably contain the entire downtown of Elkhart, Indiana in its interior. Later on, right next door, the Taj Mahal would dwarf Resorts, but at this particular time Resorts was huge. We went upstairs on the elevator to where the fighters were weighing in and being interviewed by ESPN’s Al Bernstein. The elevators opened up and there in front of me stood New Jersey state boxing commissioner Larry Hazzard.
"Hi!" I said.
Larry Hazzard looked at me as if a common human had dared to look him in the eye and speak to him directly. He turned his head to one of his lapdogs and gestured for him to take this . . . human . . . out of his eyesight. Perhaps I pained his head. The jerk didn’t say one word to me. Maybe his lapdog had forgotten to put the royal robe on his shoulders. Ah, my introduction to the big time.
I weighed in and was kind of embarrassed because I didn’t really think any of this stuff was going to come together, and here it was happening. I didn’t starve myself like my manager wanted me to, so I weighed in at 139, the highest I had ever been, but so did this kid named Greg Haugen (not Hogan.) Al Bernstein sat down with his legal pad and told me more about Greg than I had learned all the previous weekend. 300 plus amateur fights. Rocky Mountain Golden Gloves Champion. Owned amateur wins over Brett Summers, ESPN's fair-haired golden boy. Alaskan State Lightweight Champ. I would be his first television fight as a pro, of course.
Amazing how none of this information, even the correct pronunciation of his name, could be turned by my management. Maybe they thought I was going to freak. It was of no consequence; I still didn’t know who he was. I had long ago decided to go on with a pro career with the sure knowledge of my own lack of amateur experience. Truthfully, for a chance to be on Top Rank Boxing, I would have fought King Kong on top of the Empire State Building, if you spotted me a parachute.
Al interviewed Greg Haugen and from across the room I saw Greg's head snap up in shock and search my eyes out. I gave him a look like "what?", but he returned to talking to Al. It turned out later that my management team had told Greg that I was a conventional fighter when I am truthfully southpaw, which Al had noted from seeing me fight in Merrillville, Indiana, on the undercard of Donny LaLonde-Carlos Tite the previous summer. I later told Greg that I had nothing to do with that garbage. That was just management trying to act like they make a difference once two fighters are in the ring. That’s a really tricky idea, you know? So we would start the first round and he would look at me and see a southpaw stance. Cat's outta the bag now! Wow guys, that was really tricky of you; now I’m sure to win the fight! Strictly Mickey Mouse stuff.
Television crews wanted a nose-to-nose shot of me and Greg. So of course we obliged. This wasn’t my first stare down but the whole thing is just ridiculous in my view. I started cracking up, which shocked and cracked Greg up, and I had to try hard to straighten myself up for the cameras and business. If I get scared by a mean look, how in the world could I ever get into the ring and exchange punches? It’s silly.
The hours went by, and I called home and told them that this is on, get the family in front of the tube. I had every intention of winning this thing. I had no intention of caving in just because he had about 300 amateur bouts. If I could catch him and hit him hard enough, all that experience wouldn’t matter.
The stare down was much more intense in ring center than at the weigh-in session. At least now we were in the stages of marking our territory. Still, it just ends up being window dressing. The bell rang and it was easy to see that he was far and away the best boxer I had yet fought, amateur or pro. But I could stay with him. His combinations were more educated in the boxing sense and mine were a little too wide, but I was able to put him on the ropes and hit the body pretty well. His jab is what really impressed me. Short, precise, stiff. I remember how hard he was breathing through his nose and thought there is no way, if I can keep the pressure on, that he is going to last. He’s really puffing already. It was a false evaluation.
At one point I pressured him into the ropes and he was bent at the waist and slipping something and I was looking straight down at him thinking that I had him. If he moves this way, he can’t see me and I throw this; if he moves that way, I throw that and he still can’t see me. Greg stood straight up instead. The back of Greg's head, the occipital bone (I can still feel that one), slammed into my left eye socket. No cut. The impact was apparently too straight and centered. But the left eye world went black, and then a few minutes later it looked like the world does when you're crying your eyes out. There's light there but you can't make out anything at all. Not the sort of condition you want when you're in the ring with a fighter like Haugen. At that instant I felt reasonably sure my fight career was over just as it was really getting started. I wish that there was a word to describe how badly the eyeball, just the eyeball itself, can hurt when it is smashed. I don’t ever want to feel that much pain again.
I look at the film now and you can’t even tell that I’m screaming inside. I took it just like a fighter is supposed to take it—pokerfaced. At ringside, Al Bernstein told the television audience that my eye was already looking black. He assumed it was from a counterpunch. I assumed that my head was going to explode.
My crew in the corner went through their usual speech. You’ve got to throw more punches than him. This will be easy if you throw more punches. Oh and hey, one more thing: throw more punches.
Let’s be clear about something. I’m not saying I would have won on points against Greg Haugen if I hadn’t gotten my eye smashed. Greg was probably the finest "pure boxer" that I faced. In his next fight he would KO Freddie Roach, who is now familiar to boxing fans as Manny's trainer. He would knock out Chris Calvin, the Southern Rebel, who my team also represented. (They were going to show me how it was done, since I had wasted their time by looking promising and then failing to beat someone with only 11 pro fights and 300 amateur ones.) His combination punching was more educated and his defense was superior to my own. He would have won a decision from me unless I was able to land that fight changing bomb. (I was so frustrated that when he landed a big right during the eighth round that stirred up the crowd, I stuck my chin out and patted it, as if to say “go ahead, hit it again, didn’t hurt.” Totally classless on my part.)
The fight became a pattern, although I tried to put more pressure on him at the urging of my cornermen. I would pressure him but he would land the most visually compelling punches of the round, show better boxing skills and defense, and win the round. I would amp the pressure up and pound his body, but you couldn’t possibly say that Greg didn’t win that fight. Every round was the same. I would eat punches to get inside, hit the body, land an occasional shot but I would get to take a counter-punch back with me. He held my hand up too when they announced the decision in his favor, a fighter’s way of saying this guy’s a tough dude, but I was just heartbroken. I had let everyone down. Most of all myself. And I still couldn’t see out of my left eye. My career was probably over.
My vision did come back the next day, edging light through a swelled and blackened eyelid. I cried again, but not because I lost the fight. I cried because I could see, and if I could see I could fight again. I couldn’t imagine my life without boxing.
I paced the halls of the massive hotel all night. For a while I was accompanied by my promoter and manager, and my promoter's wife. My promoter admonished me for a perceived lack of effort and kept reminding me that I had just lost in front of ten million people and just made my row to hoe that much longer. But hey, don’t worry about it, he said. He would get me a career of being a last-minute replacement in other fighters’ hometowns, since no one was going to take me seriously as a contender anymore. His wife elbowed him and told him that he wasn’t helping the situation at all, but people like that aren’t prone to taking advice from their wives.
In the elevator the next morning, I found myself standing with legendary Las Vegas trainer Johnny Tocco, who had worked Greg's corner the previous night. He nodded at me in the silence. Finally, before the elevator reached the bottom floor and let us both out, he reached across and patted my shoulder. "Listen kid, somebody had to win, somebody had to lose that one. That was a tough fight. You’ll be back and you’ll be fine. He’s got an awful lot of experience, my kid has. You just have to straighten your punches up, not be so wild. You’re a damn tough kid."
It was like someone had died though. The sense of loss was heavy, all the way home, at home, training, everywhere. Visiting my parents’ house, I decided to take a training run out on the course that I had run as a fifteen year old, dreaming of being a big time pro boxer. An old high school friend's father, who was the farmer that owned cornfields that I could look out my parents’ front window and view, pulled up alongside me. He rolled down his window. "You better get your ass running faster, loser! If you don’t you might get your ass kicked again!" Then he drove away.
And that, my friends, is how you go from being a contender to a tomato can in less than an hour of your life. Fortunately, I’ve learned since then that the people who make those decisions and levy their own stern judgment on others don’t really matter anyway.
Looking back on that night in Atlantic City, I don’t feel cheated by fate or anything resembling that, and I’m proud of that kid. That was one damn fine fighter he was facing and that kid was in one hell of a lot of pain, and he didn’t show it, didn’t fold, and fought his heart out. That kid was me, and I don’t mind saying that I’m proud of him.
Jeff Bumpus boxed professionally from 1984 to 1993, compiling a record of 31-8. He lives and works in Union, Michigan.
(as published by The Boxing Historian)
In July of 1985 boxing seemed to have dried up. There were no fights on the professional horizon for me. The gym was pretty dead because all the amateur fighters had been through their tournaments until the fall. A lull had settled in.
The people that my manager and I associated with in order to obtain our fights were famous for “the midnight call.” They weren’t exactly the top agency in the business. They played a more peripheral role in the boxing world. Card falling apart? Call these guys. They can save your show. They had me and another fighter with whom they hoped to break into the upper echelon of respect in the boxing world.
ESPN's Top Rank series was at Resorts International Hotel and Casino that week and the scheduled headline bout was John Wesley Meekins of New York City vs. Greg Haugen of Auburn, Washington. Meekins was an ESPN favorite and Haugen had a solid amateur background, winning over 300 amateur fights and several Rocky Mountain Golden Glove titles.
Turns out that Meekins wasn’t going to make this date for Haugen so we were contacted. If memory serves, the bouts were on a Monday or Tuesday night. The preceding Friday night I got a phone call from my manager that went something like this: "Findem and Cheatem Enterprises called me. They want you to stay ready this weekend. I don’t know what the weight is, so don’t eat too much. They might have an ESPN fight for you. Stay ready! Some guy named Hogan." (I wondered if I would get a leg drop and he would scream "Brother!")
That was a common theme and it’s my own fault truthfully. If you aren’t a proven commodity with an extensive amateur background before anyone ever puts a dime into your career, you end up with seat-of-the-pants promotions. I started boxing as a pro at age 22 after only 20 amateur fights. Most fighters who are smooth and well-schooled have been boxing since they are ten years old. I was on a learning curve that resembled running up a mountainside.
The weekend passed with no more word from management. It appeared to be another one of those “get ready! get ready! never mind” moments. Then on Monday morning I got a call from my manager. "The flight leaves South Bend at 9:00 am. You fly to Detroit and catch another at 11:30 am. Then you fly to Philadelphia and Top Rank will pick you up there."
Fly? You mean in an airplane? I’d never even been in an airplane before and you want me to get into two different planes on the same day, with people driving who hide behind a cabin door so you can’t see them, like they are ashamed of how this is going to turn out and just close the door!?
I wasn’t afraid of flying; I was afraid of crashing. Those are two separate things. One is a jolting stop, the other is pretty smooth. Regardless, I packed my things for overnight in Atlantic City and drove to the airport in South Bend. The world's noisiest twin engine monstrosity flew me to Detroit with the Peter, Paul and Mary recording of "Leaving on a Jet Plane" constantly playing through my mind. Maybe getting punched in the head will be a good thing, I thought; it might change the song.
Detroit airport was just a hair larger than South Bend's. Just a hair. Navigate to the right gate and find the right plane so I don’t end up in Tucumcari. Hey, this is pretty cool. I can handle this.
When we landed in Philly I was now a veteran of two flights and very experienced, you see? At the bottom of the escalator was a man in a uniform holding a sign, just as I'd been told he would be. We got in the limo and I thought, this is so awesome. I’m in "Rocky’s” hometown! Right across the road from the airport, basically, was the spectrum and the colossal Veteran's Stadium. How many football games from that spot had I watched on Sunday afternoons? The limo driver kept asking me if I was comfortable and did I want the TV on, etc. You have to understand that I was about as young a 22-year old as anybody has ever been, so this was all met with wide eyes and a "Who . . . me?" kind of attitude.
We commenced the hour-long drive to Atlantic City.
Atlantic City should be divided into two parts. The boardwalk/casino areas and Atlantic City. The money is in the boardwalk. The struggle is in Atlantic City. I couldn’t get over that.
Resorts International is an immense hotel that could probably contain the entire downtown of Elkhart, Indiana in its interior. Later on, right next door, the Taj Mahal would dwarf Resorts, but at this particular time Resorts was huge. We went upstairs on the elevator to where the fighters were weighing in and being interviewed by ESPN’s Al Bernstein. The elevators opened up and there in front of me stood New Jersey state boxing commissioner Larry Hazzard.
"Hi!" I said.
Larry Hazzard looked at me as if a common human had dared to look him in the eye and speak to him directly. He turned his head to one of his lapdogs and gestured for him to take this . . . human . . . out of his eyesight. Perhaps I pained his head. The jerk didn’t say one word to me. Maybe his lapdog had forgotten to put the royal robe on his shoulders. Ah, my introduction to the big time.
I weighed in and was kind of embarrassed because I didn’t really think any of this stuff was going to come together, and here it was happening. I didn’t starve myself like my manager wanted me to, so I weighed in at 139, the highest I had ever been, but so did this kid named Greg Haugen (not Hogan.) Al Bernstein sat down with his legal pad and told me more about Greg than I had learned all the previous weekend. 300 plus amateur fights. Rocky Mountain Golden Gloves Champion. Owned amateur wins over Brett Summers, ESPN's fair-haired golden boy. Alaskan State Lightweight Champ. I would be his first television fight as a pro, of course.
Amazing how none of this information, even the correct pronunciation of his name, could be turned by my management. Maybe they thought I was going to freak. It was of no consequence; I still didn’t know who he was. I had long ago decided to go on with a pro career with the sure knowledge of my own lack of amateur experience. Truthfully, for a chance to be on Top Rank Boxing, I would have fought King Kong on top of the Empire State Building, if you spotted me a parachute.
Al interviewed Greg Haugen and from across the room I saw Greg's head snap up in shock and search my eyes out. I gave him a look like "what?", but he returned to talking to Al. It turned out later that my management team had told Greg that I was a conventional fighter when I am truthfully southpaw, which Al had noted from seeing me fight in Merrillville, Indiana, on the undercard of Donny LaLonde-Carlos Tite the previous summer. I later told Greg that I had nothing to do with that garbage. That was just management trying to act like they make a difference once two fighters are in the ring. That’s a really tricky idea, you know? So we would start the first round and he would look at me and see a southpaw stance. Cat's outta the bag now! Wow guys, that was really tricky of you; now I’m sure to win the fight! Strictly Mickey Mouse stuff.
Television crews wanted a nose-to-nose shot of me and Greg. So of course we obliged. This wasn’t my first stare down but the whole thing is just ridiculous in my view. I started cracking up, which shocked and cracked Greg up, and I had to try hard to straighten myself up for the cameras and business. If I get scared by a mean look, how in the world could I ever get into the ring and exchange punches? It’s silly.
The hours went by, and I called home and told them that this is on, get the family in front of the tube. I had every intention of winning this thing. I had no intention of caving in just because he had about 300 amateur bouts. If I could catch him and hit him hard enough, all that experience wouldn’t matter.
The stare down was much more intense in ring center than at the weigh-in session. At least now we were in the stages of marking our territory. Still, it just ends up being window dressing. The bell rang and it was easy to see that he was far and away the best boxer I had yet fought, amateur or pro. But I could stay with him. His combinations were more educated in the boxing sense and mine were a little too wide, but I was able to put him on the ropes and hit the body pretty well. His jab is what really impressed me. Short, precise, stiff. I remember how hard he was breathing through his nose and thought there is no way, if I can keep the pressure on, that he is going to last. He’s really puffing already. It was a false evaluation.
At one point I pressured him into the ropes and he was bent at the waist and slipping something and I was looking straight down at him thinking that I had him. If he moves this way, he can’t see me and I throw this; if he moves that way, I throw that and he still can’t see me. Greg stood straight up instead. The back of Greg's head, the occipital bone (I can still feel that one), slammed into my left eye socket. No cut. The impact was apparently too straight and centered. But the left eye world went black, and then a few minutes later it looked like the world does when you're crying your eyes out. There's light there but you can't make out anything at all. Not the sort of condition you want when you're in the ring with a fighter like Haugen. At that instant I felt reasonably sure my fight career was over just as it was really getting started. I wish that there was a word to describe how badly the eyeball, just the eyeball itself, can hurt when it is smashed. I don’t ever want to feel that much pain again.
I look at the film now and you can’t even tell that I’m screaming inside. I took it just like a fighter is supposed to take it—pokerfaced. At ringside, Al Bernstein told the television audience that my eye was already looking black. He assumed it was from a counterpunch. I assumed that my head was going to explode.
My crew in the corner went through their usual speech. You’ve got to throw more punches than him. This will be easy if you throw more punches. Oh and hey, one more thing: throw more punches.
Let’s be clear about something. I’m not saying I would have won on points against Greg Haugen if I hadn’t gotten my eye smashed. Greg was probably the finest "pure boxer" that I faced. In his next fight he would KO Freddie Roach, who is now familiar to boxing fans as Manny's trainer. He would knock out Chris Calvin, the Southern Rebel, who my team also represented. (They were going to show me how it was done, since I had wasted their time by looking promising and then failing to beat someone with only 11 pro fights and 300 amateur ones.) His combination punching was more educated and his defense was superior to my own. He would have won a decision from me unless I was able to land that fight changing bomb. (I was so frustrated that when he landed a big right during the eighth round that stirred up the crowd, I stuck my chin out and patted it, as if to say “go ahead, hit it again, didn’t hurt.” Totally classless on my part.)
The fight became a pattern, although I tried to put more pressure on him at the urging of my cornermen. I would pressure him but he would land the most visually compelling punches of the round, show better boxing skills and defense, and win the round. I would amp the pressure up and pound his body, but you couldn’t possibly say that Greg didn’t win that fight. Every round was the same. I would eat punches to get inside, hit the body, land an occasional shot but I would get to take a counter-punch back with me. He held my hand up too when they announced the decision in his favor, a fighter’s way of saying this guy’s a tough dude, but I was just heartbroken. I had let everyone down. Most of all myself. And I still couldn’t see out of my left eye. My career was probably over.
My vision did come back the next day, edging light through a swelled and blackened eyelid. I cried again, but not because I lost the fight. I cried because I could see, and if I could see I could fight again. I couldn’t imagine my life without boxing.
I paced the halls of the massive hotel all night. For a while I was accompanied by my promoter and manager, and my promoter's wife. My promoter admonished me for a perceived lack of effort and kept reminding me that I had just lost in front of ten million people and just made my row to hoe that much longer. But hey, don’t worry about it, he said. He would get me a career of being a last-minute replacement in other fighters’ hometowns, since no one was going to take me seriously as a contender anymore. His wife elbowed him and told him that he wasn’t helping the situation at all, but people like that aren’t prone to taking advice from their wives.
In the elevator the next morning, I found myself standing with legendary Las Vegas trainer Johnny Tocco, who had worked Greg's corner the previous night. He nodded at me in the silence. Finally, before the elevator reached the bottom floor and let us both out, he reached across and patted my shoulder. "Listen kid, somebody had to win, somebody had to lose that one. That was a tough fight. You’ll be back and you’ll be fine. He’s got an awful lot of experience, my kid has. You just have to straighten your punches up, not be so wild. You’re a damn tough kid."
It was like someone had died though. The sense of loss was heavy, all the way home, at home, training, everywhere. Visiting my parents’ house, I decided to take a training run out on the course that I had run as a fifteen year old, dreaming of being a big time pro boxer. An old high school friend's father, who was the farmer that owned cornfields that I could look out my parents’ front window and view, pulled up alongside me. He rolled down his window. "You better get your ass running faster, loser! If you don’t you might get your ass kicked again!" Then he drove away.
And that, my friends, is how you go from being a contender to a tomato can in less than an hour of your life. Fortunately, I’ve learned since then that the people who make those decisions and levy their own stern judgment on others don’t really matter anyway.
Looking back on that night in Atlantic City, I don’t feel cheated by fate or anything resembling that, and I’m proud of that kid. That was one damn fine fighter he was facing and that kid was in one hell of a lot of pain, and he didn’t show it, didn’t fold, and fought his heart out. That kid was me, and I don’t mind saying that I’m proud of him.
Jeff Bumpus boxed professionally from 1984 to 1993, compiling a record of 31-8. He lives and works in Union, Michigan.
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