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The Sweet Science of Boxing |
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Observations of An Ex-Cop in La La Land |
 ANDY MURCIA |
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Boxing's in My Blood |
 Those of us who always figured Andy's wife, Ann Jillian, is a knockout now have proof: That's the great Sugar Ray Leonard she's knocking out. |
How the fight game grabbed
our Andy and made him a fan
By ANDY MURCIA
of TheColumnists.com
It was my one good chance to get my Dad all to myself. You see, none of my four sisters nor my two brothers liked boxing, so when our Dad sat down to watch the fights on our tiny television screen or listen to them on the radio, I crawled up next to him and joined in.
I figure it was about 1948 and I must have been eight years old. And I really got into it. I mean, I can still sing the old beer and razor blade commercials to this day: “What’ll you have? Pabst Blue Ribbon. Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer!” or “Look sharp; be sharp!" You get the picture.
In between rounds, Pop would tell me stories about my Uncle Ralph, who was the 1929 Golden Gloves heavyweight champ, winning all his fights by KO’s, mostly in the first round. Pop told me Ralph could be vicious in the ring, but was always a real gentleman outside the ropes.
During the 1950’s, boxing was on TV two or three times a week. I can still see them--fighters like Chuck Davey, Kid Gavilan with his famous “bolo” punch and that tough onion farmer named Carmen Basilio in the lighter weights and the heavyweights: Jersey Joe Wolcott, Ezzard Charles and Rocky Marciano, to name just a few. As tough as these fighters were, I never thought of them as being “vicious.” They seemed gentle enough in their interviews, even if most of them spoke with slurred speech.
When boxing fans get together, you often hear the age-old question: "Do they have to be vicious to be great?” I’ve given this question a lot of thought over the years. While I think a piece of the answer depends on how one defines “vicious.” Some of the old-time champs like Jack Dempsey and Joe Louis had what they call “killer instinct.” If they had an opponent hurt, they knew how to finish him off. I say killer instinct is a necessary ingredient for ring greatness.
Nobody really knows exactly what creates “killer instinct” in a fighter. What made a normal looking guy outside of the ring become a near sadist inside the ropes? Some have argued it was some sort of evilness cloaked within the trappings of a sport. Other’s say it’s a throw back to the days of pre-civilized man. I say “killer instinct” can come from any number of things.
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who was an amateur boxing champ and a cop, was an inspiration to young Andy. |
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In the case of Jack Dempsey, a ferocious puncher, I think it grew out of stark need. He came from poverty. He was as "hungry" as a junkyard dog and he looked at each opponent as a roadblock to his next meal. Dempsey once said, “Being empty in the pocket gives you a sour disposition. I lived in hobo camps, flop houses, and the backs of saloons. I got treated like a dog. I guess because I acted like a dog. I used to wonder what those guys I fought must have thought of me as I looked ready to eat them alive.”
Being “hungry” for the basic necessities of life has produced some of the best fighters ever, and you bet they could be vicious. Anyone seeing the savage beating the small Dempsey gave to the towering "great white hope" Jess Willard to win the heavyweight title would think boxing was for killers only. One sports writer at ringside reported. “If I ever saw homicide in the ring, the first round with Willard was it.”
Joe Louis was hungry for something else: Respect. He wanted to make his fellow African-Americans proud of him and show them a black man could stand tall after generations of racism against his people. Louis once said, “It wasn’t natural for me to be vicious, but I wanted to be the very best. I found myself slashing and smashing some poor fellow I’d never seen before and then, when it was over, trying to figure it out. I figured it out, all right. It was like I said, this thing of being determined to be the best–and my pride.” Seeing Louis go after a dazed opponent with those powerful punch combinations, leaving his man crumpled on the canvas, made you realize, yes, it was a vicious game.
And it leaves some fighters in terrible condition after it's over for them. Many years ago, I took my wife, Ann Jillian, to the motor vehicles office in Chicago and we met a man who was working there. He was in a wheelchair. It was the former heavyweight champion of the world: Ezzard Charles. Seeing him there, looking like somebody's grandfather, I couldn't help remembering the night he fought Joe Louis. That night he went after a bad cut eye on Louis and did everything he could to make the cut worse. Could this possibly be the gentle looking man we saw at the DMV?
Being “vicious” in the ring need not spill over into the boxer’s private life, even though on occasion it has. Take the case of Mike “Thug” Tyson. His big match with current heavyweight champ Lennox Lewis was rejected by Nevada because he behaved like a thug at a press conference for the bout. Tyson is not only vicious to his opponents, but he also raped at least one woman--and served time for it. To bite part of a man’s ear off, as he did to Evander Holyfield in their fight for the title, is the sign of a vicious thug. But it’s also the sign of a man who was losing the fight that night--and knew he couldn’t go much longer. So, he cowardly did something he knew would get the fight stopped.
Tyson is just your run of the mill bully. Sure, he whacks them out if they let him, but the couple of guys who fought him back, made him fold big time. I personally enjoyed seeing Buster Douglas KO the bully that night in Tokyo. How sweet it was! Both Dempsey and Louis in their prime would have made mincemeat out of Tyson. If the Lewis–Tyson fight ever really happens, I predict Lewis will KO the out of shape bully easily. I watched the phony promotional “fight” recently on TV when Tyson attacked. I think that is about as close as he will get to Lennox Lewis.
I read recently that while Tyson was doing time in Indiana, he was a pussycat around the real killers. I’ve wondered if the word “rape” got to Tyson in prison? You know what us old coppers say about criminals? We say, like football players, “they go in as tight ends and come out wide receivers.”
Tyson is just a “con”
who's trading on his past glory days, which were many years ago.
Why, if I weren’t so old,I’d box him myself. I’ll
have you know I’m a former Golden Glove champ, novice division
of course, but my coach told me I had “killer instinct”
and knew how to finish a guy, too.
Of course, I was 16 then. I got into boxing mainly because I
thought my father would be proud. But when I asked him to come
see me box, he yelled: “Are you nuts! Do you want to walk
around on your heels? Do you want cauliflower ears? Why do you
think your Uncle Ralph didn’t turn pro? Because he didn’t
want his brains scrambled, that’s why!”
Pop said boxing was for “dead end guys,” meaning guys
who had no other way of earning a living, except maybe commiting
crimes. Pop said, “I don’t want to see no member of
my family in a ring.” After Pop started pointing out punchdrunk
fighters to me, I quit immediately. Still, boxing did some good
because watching it brought Pop and me together as father and
son.
When Pop retired as a lieutenant from the NYPD, we moved to south Florida and he started taking me to see boxing matches regularly. When Pop became the police chief of Surfside there, boxing figures Chris and Angelo Dundee always left a pair of tickets for him at the Miami Beach Auditorium every Tuesday night. Pop and I used those tickets every week.
Because of Pop’s influence with the fight crowd, it was a snap for me to get into the dressing rooms of the pros who fought there. That's how I got to meet some of the best fighters of that era, like, for instance, Sonny Liston, who later demolished Floyd Patterson to win the heavyweight crown. I asked him for his autograph and he scratched an "X" on the program. Sonny boxed one of the game's hardest punchers that night: Cleveland “Big Cat” Williams. He gave a demonstration of his power that night, splitting Sonny's nose to the bone in the first round! Couple rounds later, Sonny knocked out the Big Cat.
I also met some fresh kid that they called Cassius Clay. I didn’t like this cocky guy at all.
The Dundee brothers handled many of the top fighters of the day. One of my favorites was Willie “The Wisp” Pastrano, the light heavy champ, who lived only blocks from me in North Miami. Willie was a gentleman and a nice guy. He later sold insurance after losing his belt to our family friend, Jose Torres. Years later, Willie died from what they said was “drug related problems.” He once bought me a soda pop at Rex’s fountain on 139th Street and Dixie Highway. He drove a flashy 56 Olds convertible that year, aqua & white, and was in top condition back then.
Willie and all the other greats trained at the Fifth Street Gym on Miami Beach at one time or another. On occasion, Willie would let me go with him, and I’d get to watch them work out and the sparring sessions. Willie was not much of a puncher, but was a boxer with speed. He could really move. It was beautiful to watch as he danced and boxed. I think Ali must have watched Willie too as he copped a lot of Willie’s dancing style.
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opportunity to meet many great boxing champs. Here she is with former heavyweight champ Evander Holyfield (left) and Thomas "Hit Man" Hearns, who held several titles. |
Through my marriage to Ann Jillian, I got to meet a lot more boxers like “Sugar” Ray Leonard, who could not have been nicer. We met him in Atlantic City, shortly after it had been widely reported about Ann’s breast cancer surgery. Ray told her, “You know they say I’m pretty tough, and I don’t look bad considering what I do for a living, but you’re beautiful and much tougher.”
Ray could be vicious when
he had to be in the ring. I remember tough Roberto Duran saying
“no more” to Ray. Yet history will also remember Ray
as a great father and a decent family man.
One night at a party hosted by Bob Hope, “Marvelous”
Marvin Hagler, the tough middleweight champ, slapped my hand
as I reached for a slice of cake, telling me sugar is the “enemy”
and would get me fat and out of shape. You know what? He was
right, and he was also a fun guy to hang out with.
Tommy “Hit Man” Hearns is a sweet guy with an engaging smile outside the ring and once helped Ann by offering his hand as she came down some steps too fast. And we all know Tommy had plenty of killer instinct. But what an easygoing guy outside the ring!
And I’ll never forget having dinner one evening with the immortal Sugar Ray Robinson and his wife, long after he retired from boxing. As I looked at the older Ray Robinson all through dinner, it was hard to imagine he was the man who gave vicious Rocky Graziano the beating of his life--twice! Ray Robinson was truly one of the architects of the “sweet science” and a calm, gentle man to boot!
Gerry Cooney, the heavyweight
knockout specialist, once stopped sparring long enough to tell
Ann, “You so nice, Ann, I’d break training for you!”
He was also a fast thinker, as I said, “Hey, hey, this is
my wife!” and flipped my cop badge at him. Gerry replied,
“but I’d have to make a citizen's arrest and turn you
over to this cop here” pointing with his glove towards me.
He was a kind-hearted guy. Some say he liked people too much
to be in the boxing game. But make no mistake, Gerry could punch--and
he was no quitter, as his great match with heavyweight champ
Larry Holmes certainly proved.
And I guess you all know that Cassius Clay kid I didn't like
turned out to be one of the great fighters of all time--Muhammad
Ali. I wound up liking him a lot. In fact, this guy could sell
me the Brooklyn Bridge twice! He’s like a big kid and loves
fun. One time he was behind Ann and me in the banquet line at
a Black Achievement Awards show. He wanted to get to the food
ahead of us. He must have been hungry because he started making
a cricket noise by snapping his fingers in Ann’s ear, but
his hand was gone before she could turn around and catch him.
He did this several times. I mean, it was a black tie event,
so it caught us off guard. Ann finally spun all the way around,
hoping to catch who was doing this, but Ali still had fast footwork--and
he stole her place in line! We laughed and he winked at us. When
I gently complained he butted the line, he showed me his fist
in a playful manner and bit his lips in feigned anger.
"The roast beef looks
good, Champ,” I told him.
"You not as dumb as you look, man,” he said.
In a recent interview, Ali was asked if there was one thing he
could make happen in this world, what would it be? Ali answered,
“A cure for cancer.” We all know he suffers from Parkinson’s.
So, even though I don't like everything he's done in his life,
if only for his “cancer” answer, I got to love the
Guy. Ali was truly something to see inside those ropes. He could
be vicious in the ring, but outside the ropes, he wanted to see
cancer cured. I hope they find a cure for Parkinson’s.
After all these years, I now have mixed emotions about boxing. On one hand, I think there is no other sport to rival the one where a man must have the courage to step into a ring and square off against another--and “may the best man win.” In football, it’s a “gang” mentality and they have protective gear. It's the same with hockey, except they give you a stick yet! In boxing, you have only your two fists. It’s a macho man thing; not a good sport for a coward.
But I also think boxing is brutal. It has left some boxers with the brain of a four year old--and has killed too many. It made a ruin of heavyweight Jerry Quarry and it left Ali shaking with a disease brought on by the battering he took to his head in his last few years in the ring.
Still, I'm guilty of helping the game prosper. I can’t help myself. I enjoy watching good matches. I think a lot about what my father told me about the fight game. Not much has really changed to prove Pop wrong. We still have boxers who are criminals, and it’s not only “Mike the Rapist,” but also a slew of others with convictions ranging from battery to murder.
I know better, but I guess it's just in my blood.
© 2002 by Andy Murcia. The photos are from the Andy Murcia/Ann Jillian collection. All rights reserved.
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