bits and pieces

January 1986.

Muhammad Ali shuffles back into a ring at aged near 44, testing himself by sparring with Tony Tubbs and Tim Witherspoon.

"I told him that if he looked good, I'd put him in there for an exhibition" - Don King.


....................................................

Muhammad Ali's fists and feet picked up speed when Jimmy Ellis called ''time" on the former champion's eighth and final round of sparring.

Ali heard him and knew his time was up. But he needed to end this sparring session, his seventh in as many days, with his own personal punctuation point.

So he advanced on Tony Tubbs, the World Boxing Association heavyweight champion, behind a flicking jab as the crowd began to chant "Ali, Ali." And he threw a three-punch combination.

Then, he brought the cheering to a crescendo with a slow-motion version of the old Ali shuffle and walked away.

The End.

Or was it the beginning ? Was it just good, clean fun? A way to lose weight? Or is there something more that has prompted this return to center stage for boxing's most beloved figure?

"I'm coming back . . . ," Ali said teasingly one day last week to a crowd that strained to hear his barely audible voice, "to my senses."

The sparring sessions started a week ago when Ali, dressed in his street clothes, walked up to Slim Jim Robinson, Tim Witherspoon's trainer, and asked for a protective cup.

"He said he wanted to go three rounds with Tim," Robinson said. "I gave him a headgear and he slid a cup on over his pants and went three rounds in his street shoes.

"The next day he came in with a sweat suit and a pair of sneakers and we've been sparring ever since, sometimes six rounds, sometimes eight. He's been as many as 10 with Tim.

"I don't know what it's all about, really. But I know the last time this happened, he walked into one of my training sessions when I had Eddie Mustafa Muhammad.

"He went in in his street clothes just like this time and boxed a few rounds. Then he said we're going to box until one of us drops. They went 30 minutes before I made them stop.

"When he came out of the ring, he said. 'I'm going to make a comeback'.

"That was in 1980, about a year after he had won his title back from Leon Spinks. About nine months later, he fought Larry Holmes."

In an interview after his final session with Witherspoon Monday, Ali, who will turn 44 Friday, delighted in tantalizing a reporter by raising the possibility of a comeback and then stepping back from it.

"I came in to lose some weight and feel better," he said. "I lost about 15 pounds. Look at this."

He stood and pulled the top of the sweat suit out of his waist band. The liquified excesses of years of inactivity rolled in rivulets from beneath the suit.

"I feel surprisingly good," Ali said. "I feel like I'm in my prime. I'm working with the top contender for the first time in five years. My punches are landing, body punches landing.

''I asked Don King if he would get me an exhibition fight if I looked good against the top contender. I said I want a 10-round exhibition, five rounds apiece with two top contenders in Madison Square Garden.

"And I said if I look good against them, would he get me a title shot. He said, 'Yes' ".

King's version differed slightly. "I told him that if he looked good, I'd put him in there for an exhibition," King said. "He's bringing himself back.

"I'd be willing to get some other retired fighter. I'd get Joe Frazier or somebody like that and let them make a little money for charity."

Witherspoon had some reservations about the comeback possibility.

"I don't know about a comeback," Witherspoon said. "But he might be able to fight a few exhibitions. He amazes me. He's still got the timing. He still throws the jab pretty good.

"He can take a punch to the body, too. I hit him to the body for real. But I can't bring myself to hit him hard in the head.

"He tells me to hit him in the head hard. But I can't. I don't want the whole world mad at me."

(by Elmer Smith)

 

In 1926, 19-year old Teddy Baldock was forced to move up to bantamweight, and he had the urge to try his luck in America. His father was against the idea, but after several rows, it was arranged for him to accompany Ted Broadribb and a party including Jack Hood and Alf Mancini. Ironically, it was on the eve of his departure for the United States that Teddy suffered his first defeat. In what was his 42nd paid fight, he faced Kid Nicholson from Leeds, against the wishes of Joe Morris, but did so because he wanted some money for the American trip. Baldock had trouble making the weight, and his only success during the fight was with shots to the body. After several warnings, however, he strayed low once too often, and was disqualified in the ninth round.

The American trip was a tremendous success, and during his four-month stay Teddy had twelve contests, winning eleven and drawing the other. His greatest success was a first-round knockout of the bant¬amweight champion of Canada, Arthur de Champlaine. The fans raved over the lad from Poplar, and top promoter Tex Rickard admitted that had Baldock been old enough he would have given him the chance to fight for the vacant world bantamweight title. Baldock, Hood, and Mancini were paid good money in the States, and clubbed together to buy a car for $95. They were anxious to see the big names in action, and even drove to Philadelphia to watch Jack Dempsey training for his heavyweight title defence against Gene Tunney. They stayed there for several days, and managed to get tickets to see the fight.

When he returned to England, Teddy received a tremendous welcome, and was honoured at a dinner at a Holborn rest¬aurant by 250 admirers. While he was away, the International Sports Syndicate was formed, and took over from Harry Jacobs in promoting at the Albert Hall An offer of £1,000 had been made for Baldock to have three fights, one of which would be for the world bantamweight title, Teddy accepted the offer, and in his first contest for the new promoters he knocked out Young Johnny Brown of St. George's in three rounds. After the fight, he was asked to return to the ringside because the Prince of Wales wanted to shake his hand. Teddy was terrified, and he refused, and literally had to be dragged from the dressing-room to meet his royal admirer.

After Baldock knocked out the German Felix Friedmann, the promoters cabled American Archie Bell with an offer of £1,000 for him to meet the Londoner for the vacant world bantamweight title. Bell, a veteran of over 60 fights agreed. He travelled to London, and trained at "The Black Bull" at Whetstone. Baldock set up his training camp at Hurstpierpoint, with former British featherweight champion Johnny Curley as his chief sparring-partner Baldock had a tremendous following, and on the evening of the fight 52 charabancs, crammed with enthusiastic fans, set off from Poplar for the Royal Albert Hall. The great arena was packed to capacity, and the atmosphere was electric. The American was by far the best man Baldock had faced, and the contest was fought at a terrific pace from start to finish. It was a toe-to-toe battle, and one of the greatest ever seen in a London ring. Teddy boxed brilliantly, and with just two rounds to go he was well ahead. Suddenly, Bell launched a whirlwind attack in an effort to turn the fight around. It was at this stage that the East Ender's speed, skill, and ability to absorb a punch were decisive, and he weathered the storm to take the decision. The crowd were delirious, and at the end the organist played "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow".

The whole of Poplar celebrated, and at a civic reception a few days later, Teddy was presented with an illuminated address signed by the Mayor of Poplar, and was awarded the Freedom of the Borough.

(Martin Sax)

.....................

Teddy Baldock was one of Britain's finest boxers of the 1920's and one of its most loved sportsmen. Teddy won the World Bantamweight title* on May 5th 1927 at the Royal Albert Hall in London beating America's Archie Bell on points over fifteen rounds.

World title victory propelled him to s****om in Britain, as his grandson Martin Sax attests: "There was a report about my grandmother and how she had gone to watch him fight at Premierland without him knowing because he didn’t agree with women watching boxing, and I think his parents had a bad car crash, and that made the Daily Express news because of who their son was".

His world title shot didn't come easy. By the time he fought Bell, he had been a professional boxer for six years and had competed in fifty-seven contests, compiling a record of 54-1-2. Another four years passed with some further success, but by 1930 Teddy's best days were behind him. He retired in 1931 aged 24 with a final professional record of 73-5-3.

....................

*At 19 years 347 days old Teddy would win the Bantamweight Title beating Archie Bell in 1927. Though there is some confusion regarding his title win. Three months before, Charley "Phil" ********* had forfeited the Undisputed World Title by appearing in a title bout overweight. By virtue of this bout with Bell, Baldock was declared the World Champ by the British boxing authorities. (Bell would later face Pete Sanstol for another version of the bantam crown).
But on record it is regarded as a Bantamweight Title fight which would make him the youngest World Champion out of Great Britian.

...................

Photo Caption reads -
"24th August 1929 English boxer Teddy Baldock, centre, surrounded by well-wishers including his mother and finance at Waterloo Station, London, bound for the USA."...

http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-E0I-e077S...462_530092523802432_8892170256931608216_n.jpg

 

"I should have known the first day I went in the gym and sparred with some kid that I really didn’t have it. But I had waited 11 years for a shot and I didn’t want it to pass me by. I somehow managed to go 15 rounds but after the first round I just knew. I’ve lived that fight 35 years ago over in my head a thousand times, over and over again. I remember it punch for punch and it drives me crazy. I remember when I came back to my corner after the first I said, “We’re in for a long night.” ‘I thought, “Oh man, 14 more.” It felt like I had done 15 rounds already. I was just counting them down, “I’ve got 12 more, I’ve got ten more rounds.” ‘In the seventh I hit him with a right hand and knocked him down and should have finished him. He was hurt but I didn’t realise and he got up. I was so tired I don’t think I realised how tired he really was. I let him off the hook. If I’d went in there and tried to bang with him I’m sure I could have knocked him out. I’ve got the film and I look at it every once in a while and it makes me sick,’ he smiled regretfully. ‘There’s no doubt in my mind I could have knocked him out. He was a tough kid but he never hurt me. ‘In my career I definitely see a few things I would have liked to have done differently and beating Benvenuti would have been one of them. I go to bed now and every night when I run that fight through my head it still drives me crazy."

(Don Fullmer)


.................................................................................



Instead of being listed as one of Nino Benvenuti's conquests, maybe the man who fought nine world champions in his 79 fights would have been inducted into the International Boxing Hall of Fame himself. In the seventh round of the 15-round title fight, Fullmer, who was weak from weeks of fighting the flu, landed a punch that sent Benvenuti to the canvas. But it wasn't enough, and in the end he lost that fight by decision.

"About 10 years ago, he told me that a day never goes by that he hasn't thought about that fight," said one of Fullmer's five sons, Hud Fullmer. Adds his youngest son, Kade, "He told me he dreams about it every night."

On the 43rd anniversary of that fight, the Fullmer boys gathered at the South Jordan home of their dad and mom, Nedra, to talk about their father, his life and his legacy — inside and outside the ring. They discussed Fullmer's second fight against Benvenuti, an Olympic gold medalist and Italian superstar, on Dec. 14, 1968, which was for the world middleweight title.

Brad Fullmer quietly voiced the sentiment that has haunted his father. "Maybe our lives would have been a lot different from one punch," he said. And then Don Fullmer, who sat in a recliner to ease the constant pain in his back, responded with his simple, dry humor for which he is so well-known and loved: "Mine would have been. I don't know about yours, but mine would have been." The reaction sparked an eruption of laughter, followed by a lot of ribbing.

(Desert News)


http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ATOcDuYGj...111_530574493754235_2391737861928280030_n.jpg

 

"I’ll be forty-one in a few months and have had more than eighty fights, most against fine opponents, and I’m feeling rather old. My new job as a security guard at a Museum shouldn’t be so painful. I go to the doctor, and he tells me I have liver cancer and not long to live.

Please, I ask the Nigerian government victorious since early 1970 over a Biafra that exists only as rotting flesh and shattered buildings, let me come home. You can come home, they say, but better not cause trouble. In the summer of 1971 I return, skinny in the way of the very ill, and am ordered to turn over my passport while they blister me with three hours of questions. I cooperate. I’m so happy to again be with my wife and children. I won’t leave again, I promise. I won’t except to get this extraordinary new treatment of liver cancer. Please let me leave just a little while, I ask the government. They say no and keep my passport. I’m disappointed but not bitter. I know. I’m not going to get better. I’m being carried through the streets."

(D1ck Tiger Stands Up by George Thomas Clark)


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9myLWi2B8Z0

 

1938

"For a few days at least, there were two Jimmy Slatterys"...

http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Qq3GRqDoV...414_533128360165515_4635025487818904820_n.jpg

 

this post is far too long to post here so i'll have to post a link...

“Between the rounds Jerry the Greek pushed smelling salts under my nose. I felt as though I had been fighting for hours. I thought I had struck thousands of blows and been hit as many times. I asked Doc what round it was. When he said it was the first round, I couldn’t believe him.” - Jack Dempsey

http://classicboxingsociety.blogspot.ie/2014/11/from-july-4-1919-to-september-23.html

 

“What do you like to eat?”

“Steak, when I can get it. But that’s not often,”

“Married’?”

“No. But I expect to be”

“What’s her name?”

“Nora Speight. She wants me to take back some nylons and a swim suit such as they wear in Hollywood.”

“How much money have you made fighting?”

He looked steadily at his questioner. The others squirmed at the crudeness of the question.

“I beg your pardon?” he said.

The reporter said:

“Have you any money’?”

Wood****’s eyebrows went up. His voice, which had been warm and friendly, was cold.

“I have a pound or two,” he said.

He turned to another reporter.

“What did you say?” he asked, his voice friendly again.

“What do you know about Mauriello. Bruce?”

“Not much. I’ll know more after the fight.”

“How about Joe Louis?”

Tom Hurst (Wood****'s manager) had remained silent during the interview. Now he beat the fighter to the answer.

“We’re here to fight Mauriello,” he said. “Louie can wait.”


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZGXY_DKcTXw

 

It was time for him to enter the ring in New Orleans for his rematch with Ali, but Leon had disappeared, and neither his camp nor his bodyguard—Mr. T., the future Clubber Lang—could find him. He was finally located in a hotel room, drunk.

As Ali stood in his corner calmly waiting for the fight to begin, Leon reached for his brother and held him in a tight, lingering embrace. He might have been voicing some version of the old spiritual’s lament: Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen. But Michael knew.

Somehow Leon managed to fight on relatively even terms with Ali for five rounds before Ali took command. It wasn’t much of a fight. Ali danced for the first time in years, but he landed mostly one- and two-punch combinations while holding Leon ceaselessly over 15 rounds and winning a lopsided decision. Leon went back out partying and kept the party going for years, though his career quickly became a sideshow. He lost about as often as he won, drank up his paydays in single sittings, and generally lived the life of a wild, not terribly bright dude. Years later, training Leon for one last shot at remaking his career, Emanuel Steward went looking for the fighter and found him in the usual place—a hotel—and in the usual state—drunk, naked, and with a woman. “Coach, it ain’t like it look,” he said.

Leon wound up broke.

Where Leon was madcap, Michael was reserved and enigmatic, only slightly off-kilter and in none of the ways that make headlines. “Michael always seemed so logical compared to Leon,” promoter Bob Arum said. “It seemed to me that Michael had some sense. Leon never had any sense.” Michael turned out to be a better fighter than his older brother, too, largely because of his personal stability and discipline. But in 1983, his life was upended when his common-law wife, the mother of his two-year old daughter, was killed in a car accident weeks before he was to fight Dwight Muhammad Qawi to unify the light heavyweight title. Just as he was preparing to enter the ring, someone brought the little girl into Michael’s dressing room. She promptly asked him where her mother was. Michael almost went to pieces, but he went out and beat Qawi.

Michael had a curious ability to inspire disdain in his opponents, perhaps because of his unusual style, if it was a style. He’d start out orthodox, but in the heat of battle punches would start flying in from all angles. In 1985, when Michael beat Holmes — then 48-0 and one win away from equaling Rocky Marciano’s perfect record — Holmes complained about the decision. The following year, Holmes had a legitimate gripe about their rematch, which Michael also won by decision: most observers thought Holmes deserved the nod. Even in 1987, when Michael knocked out the much bigger Gerry ****ey, whom he feared, he couldn’t seem to convince his opponent. The usually gracious ****ey said that Michael didn’t belong in the same ring with him.

Where Leon endured a sustained descent, Michael’s downfall was mercifully brief: in June 1988, he faced off against Mike Tyson in the bout that would unify (for a few years at least) the heavyweight title. Tyson was at his peak, a terrifying force combining speed and power. Emanuel Steward told how before the Tyson fight, Michael was afraid to leave his dressing room. He entered the Atlantic City ring, as the authors put it, wearing “the look of a rabbit that had just spotted a hunter’s rifle.” Michael’s trainer, Eddie Futch, wanted him to box Tyson, to stay away for four or five rounds—easier said than done in those days. “Take him out in deep water and then we can drown him,” he said. Tyson never gave them a chance, annihilating Spinks in 91 seconds. It was Michael’s only loss as a professional and his last fight.

Michael lives on a generous spread outside Wilmington, Delaware, and mostly keeps a low profile.

(by John Florio and Ouisie Shapiro)

 

June 25, 1902 - National Sporting Club, Covent Garden, London.

Tom Sharkey vs. Gus Ruhlin

After a slight spar in round one, Ruhlin led with his left but was met with an effective counter to the body from Sharkey. The Irishman clinched and held, and was quickly in trouble with the referee. Ruhlin slipped down and his adversary became too impetuous, and was nearly disqualified through striking his man before he had gained his feet. Sharkey was very busy when the round ended.

When the fight resumed Sharkey was again cautioned for holding and Ruhlin took control of the centre of the ring. Three times he jabbed the sailor on the face and got nothing back. Sharkey then missed a wild uppercut with his left and before he could recover, his opponent drove a left and then a right home to the head just as the bell rang.

In the third, both men boxed for the head with little success although Sharkey landed one left jab to Ruhlin’s face.

Both men were guilty of holding in the fourth but a clean jab to Sharkey’s face left him looking “flushed” and “distressed” and he “appeared pleased” when the round ended. Tom came out to take more punishment, but tried everything to disguise the fact that the fight was slipping away from him. “This is not so easy for you as in New York,” he told Ruhlin. The bravado fooled no-one at ringside.

In the sixth, Sharkey looked “used up”, a nasty cut now worrying him over his eye. “With his usual gameness however he kept going after his big rival in determined style.” Sharkey was running on instinct.

When Ruhlin backed him into a corner in the seventh, Sharkey showed excellent footwork and got out of danger.

In the eighth, he took further punishment and in the ninth, he was forced back onto the ropes and was hit hard with both fists in the ribs.

All the same, in the tenth, Sharkey goaded Ruhlin again: “You could not beat me with a hammer!”
“However, for once,” noted an onlooker sadly, “the sailor boy’s ideas were wrong.”
Sharkey tried to rush Ruhlin but took a hefty punch on the draw, staggered and reeled back his corner.

Sharkey was out on his feet now and when he stood up for the eleventh he clutched Ruhlin around the neck and dragged him around the ring. Eventually they broke and every time Ruhlin struck Sharkey went down. Four times in all. Sharkey got up each time but the last time, he struggled to his feet, he really did not know where he was. As the round ended, Sharkey’s corner went to his aid and tried to get him ready for another push. But Tommy Ryan, one of his seconds, knew the game was up. He walked over to Ruhlin’s corner and gave in on Sharkey’s behalf.

Ruhlin walked across the ring to shake his opponent by the hand and left the ring, some onlookers said, without a scratch on him.

Sharkey remained where he was, tears rolling down his cheeks. “It was somewhat pathetic to see such a game boxer in tears,” decided a reporter with the Sporting Chronicle. A reporter filing for American newspapers said the fight had been “one of the most determined and desperate struggles ever witnessed in the National Sporting Club”.

Some observers said Sharkey, reduced almost to insensibility, then raged against his seconds for their intervention. All agree he was cut, beaten and angry.

Back in Ireland, Tom’s family and the old fans who had followed his fistic adventures closely through the pages of the Dundalk Democrat read what appeared to be an obituary for that career. The sports columnist known as ‘Philistine’ wrote that not even “Herculean” Sharkey could continue to take such “thumpings” as that handed out by Ruhlin. “While it is generally thought that Ruhlin must have come on immensely in his form,” he concluded sadly, “the usual opinion is that the sailor has gone back very much, and now has not much else but his undauntable pluck to recommend him.”

Losing the £2,000 purse and getting beaten by Ruhlin would have been only part of the disappointment; realising he was no longer the fighter he once was would have poured salt on the stinging wounds, wounds laid open by the realisation he would never have the chance to fight for the world title again.

But perhaps on that special night there was a wound that went deeper still. For, there in the crowd, was Tom’s father James Sharkey who had come to watch his son in a big fight for the first time. James Sharkey, now 78, had travelled to London to celebrate his son’s successes on the world stage, but instead he was watching the sun setting on his career.

(by Greg Lewis)

 

July 4, 1912 - Vernon, California
Lightweight World Title
Ad Wolgast vs. 'Mexican' Joe Rivers

It was a fierce battle between the two determined men, each doing damage in the brutal give-and-take manner that characterized the ring wars of that blood-and-guts era.

Wolgast, making the fifth defense of the title he won in the 40th round of a savage war of attrition with Battling Nelson two-and-a-half years before, started strong but was fading under the continued assault of the younger challenger. The champ had been more on the receiving end than the giving end through the first 12 frames of the scheduled 20-rounder and was behind in the scoring.

Rivers had the edge going into the fateful 13th round but both battlers showed the effects of the fierce trading. “Both boys, gory from head to belt, their faces puffed and cut …” is how the ringside reporter described Wolgast and Rivers just prior to the double knockout.

There has been some dispute through the years as to whether the blow that felled Rivers landed low, but the newspaper account said clearly that Wolgast struck below the belt.

“Rivers suddenly collapsed,” the ringside reporter wrote, and there were immediate shouts of “foul” among the spectators. “Wolgast previously in the same round and in several other rounds had struck Rivers rather low and when Rivers went down there was a sudden shout of ‘Foul.’”

Rivers went down in a heap but a moment later Wolgast was down also, falling over top of Rivers’ legs. Just as he was being hit severely in the groin area, Rivers had landed a solid right to the champion’s jaw and Wolgast staggered momentarily before falling.

“Wolgast suddenly crouched and sent a terrific left directly over Rivers’s groin,” it said in the next day’s newspapers. “At the same instant Rivers put his right to Wolgast’s jaw and the champion went down and was practically out. Rivers fell, writhing in pain, and referee Welch began to count.”

Welch later explained that he started counting over Rivers because Rivers went down first. Welch ignored the claims of foul, saying emphatically that Wolgast landed a clean blow. As Welch was counting over Rivers, who was conscious but in terrible pain, he actually helped Wolgast up from the canvas.

“Wolgast rolled off Rivers, his features convulsed. Welch immediately began counting and was still counting when he reached down and helped Wolgast to his feet. There were shouts that the bell had ended the round while Welch was counting. By this time the whole arena was in an uproar.”

The bell rang at the count of 4 and the timekeeper, Al Holder of the Pacific Athletic Club, kept shouting at Welch that the gong had sounded. Welch either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore him. That only added to the outrage of Rivers’ supporters.

“The claims on behalf of Rivers were not heeded by Welch. He picked Wolgast up off the floor and declared him the winner. His seconds had to carry him from the ring. Rivers was lying on the floor but in a moment arose unaided.”

Rivers was prepared to continue fighting but Welch “waved him back.” Welch’s actions ignited a near riot in the arena. Several people came through the ropes, including Rivers’ manager Joe Levy, and confronted Welch.

The referee told the protesters that his actions were fair and then quickly fled the ring. The protests continued for nearly an hour after the fight ended but to no avail. Later that night, Welch stated that Wolgast had struck a legal blow to the stomach that caused Rivers to fall. Shockingly, Welch also said he didn’t see Rivers land the punch that knocked Wolgast senseless.

In a remarkable contortion of logic, this is how Welch responded: “Wolgast was clearly the winner. Just before Rivers went down, Wolgast had landed a heavy left to the body just below the pit of the stomach and followed it with another right smash almost to the same place. Neither blow was low. I did not see what happened to Wolgast.”

So Welch saw two legal blows when others saw a left thrown by the champion that was clearly low. The ref saw Wolgast strike Rivers but he somehow missed the right that Rivers threw to knock Wolgast out! Welch would have made a grand politician.

Rivers later displayed “a dented aluminum protector” in the dressing room to validate his claim of a foul. Levy, Rivers’ manager, called Welch’s actions “the worst case of robbery in the history of the American ring.”

“Never before have I seen a referee pick up a man and then give him the decision,” Levy added. “The foul blow struck by Wolgast was seen by everyone near the ringside. It was the fourth or fifth foul the champion had landed on Rivers. The sum total of it all is that Wolgast knew he was whipped and resorted to his foul tactics to save himself.”

The final paragraph of the newspaper article implies that even Wolgast’s people recognized the injustice of Welch’s actions, though they weren’t about to say so. “No one connected with Wolgast’s camp would say a word and all of them quickly jumped in an automobile and left the pavilion.”

(by Mike Dunn)

 

Fear is the greatest obstacle to learning in any area, but particularly in boxing. For example, boxing is something you learn through repetition. You do it over and over and suddenly you’ve got it. …However, in the course of trying to learn, if you get hit and get hurt, this makes you cautious, and when you’re cautious you can’t repeat it, and when you can’t repeat it, it’s going to delay the learning process…When they…come up to the gym and say I want to be a fighter, the first thing I’d do was talk to them about fear…I would always use…the same example of the deer crossing an open field and upon approaching the clearing suddenly instinct tells him danger is there, and nature begins the survival process, which involves the body releasing adrenalin into the bloodstream, causing the heart to beat faster and enabling the deer to perform extraordinarily feats of agility and strength…It enables the deer to get out of range of the danger, helps him escape to the safety of the forest across the clearing…an example in which fear is your friend.

The thing a kid in the street fears the most is to be called yellow or chicken, and sometimes a kid will do the most stupid, wild, crazy things just to hide how scared he is. I often tell them that while fear is such an obnoxious thing, an embarrassing thing…nevertheless it is your friend, because anytime anyone saves your life perhaps a dozen times a day, no matter what how obnoxious he is, you’ve got to look upon him as a friend, and this is what fear is…Since nature gave us fear in order to help us survive, we cannot look upon it as an enemy. Just think how many times a day a person would die if he had no fear. He’d walk in front of cars, he’d die a dozen times a day. Fear is a protective mechanism….By talking to the fighters about fear I cut the learning time maybe as much as half, sometimes more, depending on the individual.

(by Cus D’Amato)

 

Shortly after Floyd Patterson had defeated Eddie Machen in 12 rounds of boxing that would never frighten Cassius Clay back into training, Floyd received two visitors in his Stockholm dressing room. One, wearing a neat, gray Ivy League suit, was Ingemar Johannson. "You too nice, Floyd," said Ingemar. The other, wearing a jaunty bow tie, was Nat Fleischer, the publisher of Ring magazine, who announced triumphantly that Floyd Patterson had moved up, that he was now the No. 2 challenger for the heavyweight championship.

Both were right, of course. Floyd is a nice man, too nice to be a professional fistfighter, but despite this he is also unquestionably superior—just as he has always been—to the five men over whom he had just leapfrogged from his old ranking down in seventh place: Doug Jones, Zora Folley, Cleveland Williams, Ernest Terrell and Machen. It was a little difficult to understand, however, why Floyd was so cheered by Fleischer's statement. For one thing, still above him stand Clay and Sonny Liston, and exactly why Floyd should ever want to fight either of them—he has plenty of money and his health—is a question that not even Patterson can adequately explain. Beyond that, his sudden rise in Ring's form chart had no more relation to reality than his precipitous drop from the top to his place behind Jones, Folley, etc. immediately after his back-to-back and back-on-the-canvas first-round knockouts at the hands of Liston. He was no worse a fighter after his losses to Liston than he had been before, and he is no better a fighter now after his wins over Machen and Sante Amonti, the inept Italian heavyweight he defeated on points in Sweden last January. He is still fast and strong and game—but he still is easy to hit. He still is acutely aware of helplessness, in himself or in others, including those he hurts in the ring. He still lacks the egocentric concentration of the true athlete, the single-minded aggressiveness of the great fighter, the consuming need to conquer or destroy everything in his way.

In the 11th round of the fight last Sunday he caught Machen against the ropes and hit him with a powerful right hand that sliced open Eddie's face and sent him to his knees. The mandatory eight-count rule, which requires that fighters knocked off their feet must take a count of eight before resuming battle, had been waived for the meeting, and Machen popped back to his feet at once, though dazed and with blood streaming down his face. It was an opportunity—an opponent momentarily helpless—that would have been capitalized on immediately by a Rocky Marciano or a Cassius Clay or a Sonny Liston. But Patterson stood quietly by and waited, looking at Machen with a curious half smile on his face. He did not move in for the kill, and Machen quickly recovered.

This was the maneuver—or rather, the nonmaneuver—that upset Johansson. "You take a step back when you should not," he told Patterson in the dressing room. "You had him hurt maybe five, six times. Why you don't move in? You must take a step forward, Floyd." Patterson looked at him enigmatically and did not reply. Later, however, Patterson said, "I was winning the 11th round when I hurt him, and I looked in his face and I saw hurt and defeat. This is a man who has had a hard life. He has been broke and in a mental institution. Should I knock him down further for my own good? I was winning. I didn't have to hurt him." Then he added, "He fought a good fight. He deserves a shot at Clay more than I do. He's broke and he's been down, and he deserves it."

This kindliness of Floyd's, a reflection of his hunger for friendship, for approval, for recognition, has its counterpart in his fear and resentment of disapproval, his touchiness, his moodiness. Before the fight in Stockholm (from which he earned $100,000, as a crowd of 40,000 damp Swedes paid approximately $300,000 dollars to watch on a rainy northern evening), Floyd annoyed even his enthusiastic Scandinavian admirers by sequestering himself like a moody Garbo in a small resort town 300 miles from Stockholm. He strained the abundant friendship most of the Swedish press has for him by making himself very hard to find for interviews. "I spent three days in Ronneby trying to talk to him," one Swedish reporter said, "and finally I got to see him for 20 minutes. Is this the Patterson we liked so well? I do not think so."

"He misses Cus D'Amato," said a man who is close to Patterson, referring to Floyd's first and longtime manager, from whom he is estranged. "He tries to do everything himself now—run the camp, worry about the money, take legal advice, everything. D'Amato used to do all that and keep him away from everyone so that he could concentrate on fighting. And then you have to remember that he was raised by Cus. When Cus first got him he was just a kid who didn't know anything about anything. All he knows and all his attitudes he got from D'Amato, including his suspicions and prejudices and his quickness to resent. He's got all of D'Amato's craftiness without D'Amato's background and intelligence."

In one of his rare colloquies with a member of the press, Patterson said, "I have to prove something. If I could preview a fight and see that I would be destroyed I would still fight. If I had to fight every day for seven days I would do it to prove myself." He focused all of his attention on the task at hand: beating Machen, proving himself. Although his brother Ray, who served as a sparring partner in his camp, could have had a fight on the card with Floyd and Machen, Patterson turned thumbs down on the grounds that he had to give his entire concentration to his own bout and did not want to have to worry about his brother at the same time.

(Sports Illustrated - July 1964)


http://fbcdn-sphotos-d-a.akamaihd.n..._=1429529684_4aade2c47ad0522a30babcd365fe5757

 

Bantamweight Battle of Britain - a rematch between British & Commonwealth Champion Walter McGowan from Scotland and Liverpool's Alan Rudkin on 13th May 1968 at The Kings Hall in Manchester.

Written by Greg Paterson....a regular poster on the boxing forums


......................................................

On the 6th of September 1966, two fighters embraced as the bell rang and waited anxiously for the referee to make a decision on who had won.

In one corner was the slick Scottish flyweight from Burnbank, Walter McGowan (left) who was WBC world champion. The other was Liverpool's reigning British and Empire bantamweight champion, Alan Rudkin. Rudkin's titles were on the line.

The decision was given. McGowan had won a controversial decision, most believing Rudkin had taken it, although respected veteran broadcaster Harry Carpenter believed McGowan had just done enough. There were calls for a rematch that seemed inevitable. However, Rudkin felt hard done by, believing he'd had his titles stolen from him.

22 months later the fighters re-entered the ring in the long awaited rematch. It was a natural to sell; the first fight was an epic and close fight and ended with a disputed decision. And here it was.
McGowan had lost his flyweight title to the great Chatchai Chinoi in a war but eventually his eye gave out and he lost on cuts. In the rematch he was ahead on the cards before his left eye fell to pieces and again he lost on cuts. He took eight months out before signing to fight Rudkin again.

Rudkin on the other hand was quite successful in the interim with six wins including two stoppages. However he had lost on points in a fight for the European bantamweight crown but still longed for his British and Empire titles. After the defeat by Mimoun Ben Ali (for the European title) he rebounded with a brilliant second round KO of the touted American Ronnie Jones, landing a perfect right hand to lay Jones out.

The action got under way.

The early rounds were close with McGowan the pure boxer he was landing fast jabs but Rudkin fought back well with the harder shots and edged these early rounds. Both fighters produced beautiful boxing of the highest quality.

As the fight wore onto the middle rounds Rudkin hit fine form in the eighth; he turned up his pressure and McGowan started to struggle as Alan forced himself forward with hard straight punches to the head and brutal body shots. He continued this in the ninth causing TV commentator, Harry Carpenter, to a liken him to a ‘Bulldog’. A few seconds later Alan seemed to floor Walter with a wicked right hand but legendary referee Harry Gibbs ruled it a slip, which was highly plausible as the ring was very slippy. But, Alan turned it on believing Walter to be hurt and really bullied the Scotsman for the rest of the round. In the tenth Rudkin kept up the pressure and looked to be in complete control with the average card being 8-2 to the scouser and Rudkin was keeping a ferocious pace.

Walter sat down on his stool after the tenth, his right eye was shut and in the last round Rudkin had opened a cut over his left cheek bone. Looking at him you wouldn’t have expected what was about to happen.

The bell for the eleventh rang. McGowan, sensing the need for a big push in the late rounds, got up on his toes and started to land beautiful combinations and fast jabs on the advancing Rudkin. No one could believe it. Walter looked to be fading in the last few rounds but had started this amazing comeback. Could he keep it up?

As Walter came out for the twelfth round he walked onto a brilliantly placed shot by Rudkin that seemed to shake the Scotsman. Watching it, I had the feeling this could be the end for the Scotsman as he tied up Rudkin to avoid his follow up attacks. As they broke Walter got up on his toes and proceeded to box as he had done in the last round but this round he was landing with authority and landed a precise right uppercut onto the onrushing Alan’s chin, forcing him back. This brilliant comeback continued in the thirteenth as Walter boxed brilliantly but Alan was always forcing the pace. Now the solid lead for Rudkin had evaporated and now the fight was in the balance but all Rudkin needed to do was win one of the last two rounds to secure victory.

The penultimate round commenced and Alan tore straight into McGowan with punishing body shots. The tide started to turn as Rudkin found the target more and more with hard accurate shots. Commentator Carpenter commented that Rudkin had ‘savage intensity’ which summed it up brilliantly, Alan wasn’t going to be denied of his titles that he believed rightfully belonged to him. Alan’s ‘savage intensity’ caused a horrific cut over the cut-prone McGowan’s left eye.

‘Seconds out, fifteenth and final round!’ shouted the timekeeper.
Both men rose from their stools Rudkin cut over his left eye and McGowan with both eyes shut and cuts above and below his left eye. You knew these guys had been in a fight. They got to centre ring and touched gloves and proceeded to tear into each other like hungry dogs. Rudkin landed furiously to the body making sickening 'booms' every time they landed. Walter threw fast flurries to the body back in an attempt to keep Alan off him but he couldn’t as they both kept trading. McGowan had to give ground and he did, as Alan stalked him landing bloodying combinations as McGowan leaped in with fast flurries in a brilliant last round.

As the bell sounded both men embraced tightly and Walter planted a kiss, instead of a hook, on the cheek of Rudkin, which summed up the love and respect each guy had for each other. In a fight of such savagery they could embrace like this was a testament to their sportsmanship.

Harry Gibbs walked over to Rudkin and raised his hand; he had scored it to Rudkin by a round or half a point – the closest it could be!

Rudkin was delighted he had redeemed himself and won back his treasured titles. The look on Rudkin’s face showed it all he was full of relief and joy for winning as he was raised onto someone’s shoulders and paraded around the ring as the crowd cheered for his and McGowan’s amazing performance. Oddly there was some booing but this writer believes it to be of fans' disagreement with the decision but the booing was minimal.

Thus concluded the greatest, most savage yet superbly skilled fight to take place in the British ring. Many would say that one of the Kevin Finnegan vs Alan Minter trilogy, or Jamie Moore vs Mathew Macklin.

But for me this honour belongs too the incredible fight between two of the almost forgotten greats of the British ring in Alan Rudkin and Walter McGowan.

 

The curious tale of Henry 'Slaughterhouse' Baker...

........................

Boxer Henry Baker's legend persists from beyond the grave

Henry Baker lived to fight another day after future heavyweight boxing champion James J. Jeffries figuratively handed him his head in the most important match of Baker's career in 1897.

The mystery is, how did the Milwaukee boxer manage to go on living after the wheels of a freight train lopped Baker's head clean off -- literally -- 11 years later?

Once hailed by the Brooklyn Eagle newspaper as "the coming heavyweight champion," the man known locally as "Heine" Baker had a downtown tavern and was a boxing instructor at the Milwaukee Athletic Society. A stint in the Chicago stockyards accounted for his fighting nickname, "Slaughterhouse" Henry.

Baker was "a real fighter," recalled Jeffries in his memoirs. "He was built like Tom Sharkey [another rugged 1890s heavyweight], but more smoothly muscled, and his weight, like Tom's, was 185 pounds. He was one of the most confident men I ever saw."

Heine earned his first notoriety in 1894 by whipping Denver Billy Woods in Chicago. A year later, Baker boxed an exhibition match with then-middleweight (and future heavyweight and light heavyweight) champion Bob Fitzsimmons at a Milwaukee theater, and "was not only aggressive all through the bout," reported The Journal, "but his protection was strong and effective."

Real prizefighting was illegal in Wisconsin, and many of Baker's fights were bootleg events. On June 9, 1895, he and Lem McGregor were supposed to fight in some woods south of Milwaukee. When less than $100 was put in the hat passed around by the 60 spectators for the winner's purse, McGregor refused to fight. "Baker called him a coward, but that did not stir his Southern blood to boiling," reported The Evening Wisconsin. A spectator named George Curtis agreed to fight Baker for $50, and was knocked out in four rounds for his trouble.

A month later, just as Baker and a Chicagoan named Michael Brennan squared off in a dance hall on the city's southern outskirts, a posse of county sheriff's deputies busted in and put everyone under arrest for violating the state statute against prizefighting. "Consternation seized the crowd and there was the liveliest kind of a scramble for the freedom of adjacent fields," reported The Evening Wisconsin.

Baker and Brennan were the first ones charged with violating the anti-boxing law in Milwaukee County in eight years. They could have gotten up to five years in jail and a fine of $1,000, but the boxers were fined only $10 each plus court costs.

A week after that, a fight at a North Side Milwaukee tavern on July 22 between Frank Klein and Louis Schmidt ended when Schmidt was knocked out in five rounds. Schmidt died at the scene. Klein was arrested for murder, and Baker, his cornerman in the fight, was also indicted. Heine skipped town, but a week later was arrested in Grand Rapids, Mich. and extradited to Milwaukee. This time the fine was stiffer, and Baker departed Milwaukee for good.

On the West Coast he helped prepare Bob Fitzsimmons for a match against Tom Sharkey in San Francisco. "The fact that Bob Fitzsimmons has selected Henry Baker of this city to assist him in training for his bout with Tom Sharkey goes to show that the Milwaukee boy is well thought of by the middleweight champion," said The Evening Wisconsin. "There has never been a 'Dutchman' who has displayed more gameness in the roped arena than this same Henry Baker."

"Baker Is Expected To Win," proclaimed The Milwaukee Journal hopefully when Heine fought Jeffries in San Francisco on May 18, 1897. It was scheduled for 20 rounds, and "the prediction is freely made by the Chicago sports that if Baker manages to land either glove on Jeffries, the latter's gallop toward the championship will be stopped."

Baker had his moments. He "did some pretty footwork for half a dozen rounds, and once or twice managed to land left and right on the Los Angelan when the latter least expected it," according to the San Francisco Examiner's report of the fight.

Jeffries himself later recalled, "I must say that the stockyards champion gave me good, hard work to do. As soon as we began he rushed at me and swung on my jaw with all his might. It was a great punch. He kept on swinging and tearing at me. He surely was a husky, tough fellow.

"I began nailing him with lefts and rights, and as the fight went along I measured him and knocked him down half a dozen times. In the seventh round, I remember, I hit him so hard that his heels flew up in the air and he turned a complete somersault."

They stopped it in the ninth, after two left hooks from Jeffries made Slaughterhouse Henry woozy as a cow whose next stop is the hamburger factory.

Because the confident Milwaukee fighter had bet his entire end of the purse on himself, he ended up with nothing and had to scrounge money to pay for an expensive oyster dinner he promised friends after the fight.

Baker fought until 1903, and then went to work for the streets department in Kansas City, Mo., and was out of the news until Oct. 10, 1908.

Under the headline "Heine Baker Dead," the Milwaukee Free Press reported, "The headless body of Henry Baker, one of the best known heavyweight boxers in the country at one time, was found on the railroad tracks near the Union depot" in Kansas City. "It is thought he was run over by a Burlington train." The Kansas City Star reported that services were held at Stewart's Chapel a few days later, and that Baker was laid to rest in Union Cemetery. He was 42.

"Baker was a big, good-natured German and he had many friends here," eulogized The Evening Wisconsin. "He was never considered a clever man, but was as strong as a bull and (was) always picked out for the big fellows when they wanted a real try-out."

Apparently Slaughterhouse Henry was stronger than any bull, because he didn't let losing his head keep him from living a very long life.

In April of 1951, a San Francisco Bay area newspaper ran an item announcing a sports program for residents of the Livermore Veterans Home. "Among participants," it said, "will be Sailor Tom Sharkey and his former sparring partner, Henry Baker, who contributed so much to Sharkey's standing as a heavyweight 50 years ago."

Ten years later, another West Coast newspaper reported, "Henry Baker, who was Jim Jeffries' third San Francisco opponent in 1897, died here last week of a kidney ailment. Close friends say he was 91. Baker appeared on the old Orpheum circuit at various times with Jim Jeffries, Jim Corbett and Tom Sharkey."

Jeffries and Sharkey both died in 1953, and haven't been heard from since. They were merely human after all, lacking the true indestructibility that Milwaukee's slaughterhouse champion had, apparently, up the Heine.

(By Pete Ehrmann)

 

Sept. 28. 1912

For the first time in his life Battling Nelson has declined to be interviewed. This time the subject of the proposed interview was matrimonial, not pugilism. "Is it true that your rumored engagement with Miss Fay King of Denver is all off?" Nelson was asked.

"The only match I know about is the one my Chicago representative is trying to clinch with Packey McFarland," replied Nelson, "and he is pretty slow about it, too."

Miss King says she loves you like a brother, but that she has not considered you for a husband," Nelson was informed.

"If McFarland thinks he can lick me, now is his chance," replied Bat.

"Didn't you and Miss King go up on Pikes peak and engage a minister to marry you? And didn't the minister fail to show up?" were the next questions.

"I'm not going to talk about marriage," said Bat. "I am leaving the matter up to her. What she says is right, no matter if she's wrong." Then Nelson got serious.

"There's no use in my talking marriage," he said. "Any man who says he's going to marry a woman is crazy, unless he has her right at the altar—and even then he's liable to be fooled. She may not like the color of his necktie and call off the match. Miss King is a fine cartoonist, and she'd make a fine wife for anybody. If I'm the lucky fellow at the finish I'll be tickled to death, that's all. But I'm not saying a word one way or the other on the time, the place or the girl."


.......................................



January 22, 1913.

Oscar Matthew Nelson, once famed as the lightweight champion pugilist 'Battling' Nelson, and Miss Fay Barbara King, a Denver cartoonist, were married today at the fighter's home in Hegewisch. The ceremony was brief, but as the final words fell from the minister's lips the bride, overcome by the nervous strain, swayed and toppled over into her husband's arms, sobbing violently. "Bat" soothed his bride, and pretty soon she smiled and said, "I feel much better after my cry."

Rev. W.E. Pearson, a Lutheran clergyman of Moline, performed the ceremony. "Jack" Robinson, manager of the fighter, was best man, and Miss Ida Nelson, sister of the groom, was maid of honor.

Outside a brass band burst forth into "Moonlight Bay." A report said there was to be a double wedding. Miss Ida Nelson, it was said, was to have been married to a young man of the town immediately after her brother's marriage. The story run that at the last minute the young man, fearing bad luck if he married on the twenty-third, insisted upon a postponement. Miss Nelson denied the story.

"I'm the happiest guy in the world." Bat said. Asked about his wife's future, the groom said:

"She'll probably devote her time to illustrating my map. But I'll stay in the ring. I've got to, as that's the only way I have of making a living."

The couple came to Chicago after the ceremony and a wedding breakfast was served at the Wellington hotel.

The trip downtown to "Bat's" home was a gala affair. A special car on the Illinois Central was chartered and a band hired.

On the train Miss King drew a cartoon of the pugilist. The moving picture men were clamoring for some pictures and set up their machines before, the happy pair. The band played and "Bat" leaned over and (kissed his bride to be twice, and the picture machines got it all.

A big crowd turned out at Hegewisch to greet "Bat" and his fiancee. There were vigorous cheers as the party stepped from the train. The band played as the long line of friends, townsmen. newspaper men, moving picture operators and photographers started for the Nelson home behind the bridal party in a big automobile.

Tonight the couple entertained friends at a theater.


.........................................................


February 28, 1913.

Nelson's Wife Says Pugilist Kidnapped Her
Former Lightweight Champion Will Be Met at Denver by Summons in Divorce Suit

Battling Nelson, financier of Hegewiseh and erstwhile champion lightweight prize fighter, will be met with a summons in a suit for divorce when he arrives in Denver March 5.

This announcement was made tonight by friends of Mrs. Nelson, better known in Denver as Fay King, a cartoonist on the Post.

That she was kidnaped by Battling Nelson on the night of January 20 for her marriage three days later at the fighter's home will be the charge which the suit will be based.

Fay King remained three days as Nelson's wife. She left for Denver on the Sunday night following the marriage and then went on to Portland. Ore., to visit her parents before resuming her work on the Post.

"Nelson heard of my reported engagement to a Denver man and ho stopped his fighting engagements to come here for me." said Miss King tonight. "He took me by storm after I was weak and a nervous wreck from resisting him and his proposals he forced me into a taxicab and rushed me off to the station.

"I realized that I had made a mistake the day of the wedding and the first opportunity I got I hurried back to Denver. I will go right on working on the Post as though the affair had never happened.

"The marriage must not and will not stand."

.....................................

May 6, 1913.

Couple back together.

Fay Has the Say and Battler Will Retire

Battling Nelson, hero of many ring battles, the receiver of many a lacing, ''…and former lightweight champion of the world, today announced the date of his retirement from the ring. Bat is going to quit. There's no idle boast connected with the announcement. It may not be the wish of the once durable Dane to put the gloves on the shelf, but it is the request Mrs. Battling Nelson, Fay King, and Fay has the say. Labor day will be the Dane's last fight—this because it will be the eighteenth anniversary of his fighting career. He would quit now but for that. There will be no fights between now and September, however. Nelson and his wife are now in Bedford, Va., resting up. Bat plans on settling in the far west.

...........

Years later Nelson sued King for divorce as reported in Cartoons Magazine, March 1916. A divorce was granted later that year.


Fay King's name was not found in the 1940 census. Battling Nelson passed away February 7, 1954.

The Oregonian newspaper , February 9, 1954, reported that the funeral expenses were to be paid by King.


Battling Nelson died February 7, 1954 at the age of 71 in the Chicago State Hospital where the rugged old battler was committed; his death was attributed to senility. Fay King preformed a very gentle and gracious act when she hears of his death. Fay was truly a kind person. She defrayed the funeral expenses so he could be buried in Chicago next to his second wife, “whom he loved so much,” who had died just 2 months before, December 26, 1953.

Fay had been married to Bat over 40 years before his death and yet, when she was told her response was. “He was such a noble, honest man he did not deserve such a tragic end.” Fay had not seen him since 1919.

(from - WHO WAS FAY KING by Marilyn Slater)