BOXING - Where are they now? - Boxers in Retirement.

Another slant on Michael Spinks and where he and bother Leon are now.

If you know the history arrow down to the

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at the bottom:


Where Are They Now? MICHAEL SPINKS

By Robert Mladinich - The Sweet Science

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After winning a gold medal in the middleweight division at the 1976 Olympic Games in Montreal, Michael Spinks returned to the housing project from whence he came in St. Louis, Missouri.

The tall and lanky Michael could not have been more different than his brother Leon, who also won Olympic gold the same year, in the light heavyweight division.

While the fun-loving Leon always had aspirations of turning pro, the more thoughtful and introspective Michael was sick and tired of the vagaries and politics of boxing. He had planned on hanging up the gloves for good and took a job as a graveyard shift janitor at a local factory.

“Boxing was such a dirty game, I didn’t want to lose my mind,” said Spinks, who is now an extremely fit 51 years old, and one of the greatest success stories that the sport of boxing has ever known.

One night while he was supposed to be cleaning toilets, Spinks fell asleep in the women’s restroom. He wound up getting cursed out by his boss, who didn’t give a damn that he was a boxer, much less the winner of Olympic gold.

“I told him that I was going to do him and I a favor and resign,” said the normally mild-mannered Spinks. “I told him that I didn’t want to do something that we would both regret for the rest of our lives.”

Spinks wound up turning professional as a light heavyweight. Brother Leon became a professional heavyweight, and dethroned Muhammad Ali for the title in just his eighth pro fight.

Spinks was matched tough early on in his career, beating such tough customers as Tom Bethea, Ramon Ranquello, Murray Sutherland and Alvaro “Yaqui” Lopez.

His one-punch knockout of former champion Marvin Johnson was one of the best of the past few decades. Even Spinks, who is not prone to bombast, was impressed.

“I saw the picture-perfect left hook and then I took it,” said Spinks, who ironically was best known for his vaunted right hand, which was nicknamed the Spinks Jinx. “I don’t think anybody could throw a better left hook. If he got up from that, then I would have quit.”

Johnson was counted out and in Spinks’ very next fight, in July 1981, he beat Eddie Mustafa Muhammad by unanimous decision to win the WBA light heavyweight title.

He would go on to make 10 defenses, and along the way also picked up the WBC and IBF crowns from Dwight Muhammad Qawi and Eddie Davis respectively.

Spinks was undefeated in 27 fights when he and his promoter Butch Lewis decided to go after the heavyweight crown, which was then held by Larry Holmes. When Holmes, the IBF champion who was 48-0 at the time, selected Spinks as the opponent for his 49th fight, he was widely criticized for choosing such an easy foe.

If he won, which was generally regarded as a given, he would have tied Rocky Marciano’s monumental record of 49-0.

It seemed that the only people who believed in Spinks becoming the first light heavyweight champ to win the heavyweight title was Mackie Shilstone, who was brought in to devise a scientific regimen to add muscle and flexibility, and promoter Butch Lewis, who Spinks is still tight with to this day.

“If anyone could beat Holmes, it was Slim,” said Lewis, who has called Spinks by that nickname for years. “He was a tremendous fighter who could do anything. I never had any doubt he would beat Holmes, no matter what the press was saying.”

Lewis initially wanted to give Spinks a year to prepare for Holmes, who had already stopped Leon Spinks in a title defense, but Shilstone insisted he could have him ready much sooner.

“Mackie had me ready in eight weeks,” said Spinks. “I started training at about 200 pounds, but he got me down to 185 of lean muscle mass. Then he built me back up.”

Spinks would eventually weigh 199 3⁄4 pounds against Holmes for their first fight, while Holmes weighed in at 221 1⁄2.

Although Spinks kept much of his feelings to himself, he admits to having no shortage of trepidation in the weeks leading up to the Holmes fight.

“I’d be in my bed at night, and I couldn’t get any sleep,” said Spinks. “My nerves were shot.”

Finally the strong-minded Spinks managed to find a way to co-exist with his negative feelings in more positive ways.

“I would say that Larry is not just getting in the ring with any light heavyweight, he’s getting in the ring with me,” said Spinks. “I told myself that one thing I was really good at was not letting someone else get the best of me, so I was determined that Larry wasn’t going to do that.”

By fight night, Spinks had more confidence than he could have ever imagined. He put on a masterful performance, outhustled Holmes, and denied him the tie with Marciano’s record by winning a unanimous decision. RING magazine called it the Upset of the Year.

Because Spinks seems like a somewhat sensitive soul, I asked him if he ever felt bad for denying Holmes, who was a great champion, the record he worked so hard to attain.

“Just the opposite,” said Spinks. “He had beaten my brother and he had beaten Ali. He liked to hurt guys. It was a gratifying feeling to beat him, to not have gotten my ass whooped. He didn’t get the best of me, and when I saw him up close I wasn’t afraid of him.”

Spinks was thrilled to make history and, perhaps more importantly, he finally felt comfortable fighting as a heavyweight. He beat Holmes by decision in a rematch, and then defended the title against Norwegian Steffen Tangstad, who he stopped in four rounds.

He and Lewis then made a decision to relinquish the IBF title rather than defend it against Tony Tucker for a mere $750,000 in an HBO sponsored tournament whose ultimate goal was to crown the then rampaging Mike Tyson as the world’s best heavyweight.

Spinks and Lewis opted to fight the hard-punching Gerry Cooney, who towered over Spinks, with no title on the line. Lewis, who put his money where his mouth was by promoting the bout, believed that not only would Spinks beat Cooney, but that a victory would result in an even greater purse for the eventual bout against Tyson.

Many experts believed that Cooney was too big and strong for the much smaller Spinks. Spinks, however, was a lot less concerned with Cooney than he had been with Holmes.

“Gerry had never been in the ring with someone like me,” said Spinks. “If I didn’t let him hit me, he couldn’t hurt me.”

Utilizing the herky-jerky style that he employed against Holmes, Spinks stopped Cooney in five rounds. A year later, his fight against Tyson for three versions of the heavyweight title would gross him more than $13 million.

Spinks admits to being concerned with the ferocity of Tyson during that era.

“I looked at him sideways and he was this wide,” he said as he extended his arms. “I knew I had my hands full with him. He was hard and fast puncher. When I fought Mike, I think he was at his best.”

Spinks was never in the fight against Tyson, and was stopped in just 91 seconds. He never fought again, which is a decision he does not regret. His final ring ledger was 31-1 (21 KOS).

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[quote="DJ";7501079]anyone got info on some guys that used to fight on fox years ago like Fred Kinuthia
, Tony Weebhee (sp?), Julian Holland and the like?[/quote]

Julian Holland I think was crook a few years back - seem to remember a fund raiser / benefit that Simon Marshall (jockey & friend) organised for him.

Others will know more hopefully DJ....

 

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Good to hear the world lightweight title holder of the early 80's doing well:


Former boxer Ray Mancini finally living again

by Mitch Abramson - DAILY NEWS sports writer - December 26th 2009.

Ray Mancini was in town last week to attend a holiday get-together by Ring 8, the organization that works to help ex-boxers down on their luck. Mancini, known as "Boom Boom" for his rambunctious fighting style (his father Lenny also had the nickname), was never in need of such charity. Mancini turned pro at 18, won a title at 21, announced his retirement at 24 and left the sport for good at 31 with his senses and finances intact.

Though he never suffered from financial anxiety, psychological anxiety is a different matter. On Nov. 13, 1982 Mancini got into the ring for the fight that would change his life forever. Across the ring was South Korean fighter Duk Koo Kim, a scrapper about to fight the last 14 rounds of his life. In that 14th round Kim collapsed in the ring, never to get back up. Four days later he was brain dead. The ripple effects of his death were catastrophic. Richard Green, the referee for the fight later committed suicide. Kim's mother also committed suicide from grief. It all took an enormous toll on Mancini.

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"Emotionally I was burnt out," he said. "I didn't have the love for the sport anymore. I lost that love for it. My style wasn't made for longevity and I knew that early on that I was sacrificing longevity to make my score...but after the fight with Kim I totally lost the love for the game. I knew it was the beginning of the end and I knew it was time to get out."

Today, the 48-year-old lives in Los Angeles with his daughter and two sons, working as an independent producer of low-budget films. He recently finished work as a co-producer on a documentary, "Youngstown: Still Standing," a film about the survival of his hometown, and he's delved into the wine business as well; his first wine, a Cabernet Sauvignon released in November is aptly called "Southpaw."

In a sport famous for its destitute former fighters, Mancini is an anomaly. How'd he do it? Part of it was frugality. Mancini was put on a monthly stipend by a financial advisor when he was fighting, and he was able to leave the sport with most of the roughly $12 million he earned in a 34-fight career.

But the emotional scars are still visible.

Mancini said that two other fighters also died in 1982, but that most of the attention was heaped upon him for obvious reasons. Mancini was a money maker when he fought. His biggest payday was $2 million when he stopped Bobby Chacon in three rounds in 1984 and he was perhaps the first lightweight to collect a seven-figure payday.

"I was the All-American boy," Mancini said. "We had three pending endorsement offers around that time. When that happened, everything vanished. I was like a pariah. I didn't understand it at that time. I was hurt. I wasn't used to that. It took a while to get past that stuff."

People would come up to him and make off-color comments about the incident. "What's it feel like to kill someone," he was asked numerous times. Mancini said that little kids, encouraged by their fathers, would approach him and say: "I'm Duk Koo Kim's son." And there was the time years ago when one of her daughter's classmates teased her by calling her father a murderer.

"I wanted to get their father and beat their ass," he said. "That educated me real fast in life about people. Since then, you get hardened and extra skin. I know what it's about now."

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He says he often counsels fighters who have killed opponents in the ring.

"I tell these guys they have to make peace with the situation and move on, otherwise it suffocates you," he said. "You have to get it out of your system. That's what I've been able to do."

 

If you're referring to post #19, the context was intended to be, and I would have thought clearly reads:

crook = sick = cancer.

 

[ame]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NCpdkbo-_co[/ame]

...boom, boom!

 

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by Mark McKenna (Seconds Out) - April 26, 2010.

After the Manny Pacquiao bout Nedal ‘Skinny’ set about his winning ways again. Dismayed by the rip off job in Asia a second loss wasn’t an option if a world title shot was to be procured.

Having Jeff Fenech as a manager and trainer afforded ‘Skinny’ travel and promotional opportunities other fighters may not have experienced and over the next four years he was to amass another unbeaten streak of, 17-0(11), in the US , Indonesia and Japan.

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Fenech’s close relationship with Mike Tyson meant that ‘Skinny’ was an undercard attraction when Tyson fought Lennox Lewis in June 2002 , winning a six round verdict over Ronnie Longakit.

Averaging four fights a year ‘Skinny’ won more regional titles to secure a higher rating – a 12 round verdict over Jaime Barcelona resulted in the WBU Junior Featherweight belt. A career first disqualification win over Fernando David Saucedo garnered the WBO Asia Pacific Junior Lightweight title.

Another first round win over obscure thai Kularbdang Kiatkrerin added the IBF Pan Pacific belt to the jewelry shop.

Despite the winning streak most opposition at this stage was mediocre, and the reasons for this as usual had to do with pure economics.

‘It was impossible to get decent fighters over without spending a fortune’said Hussein. ‘For a guy to fight me we would have to spend 15,000 US for their purse. Throw in hotel accommodation, multiple airfares, allowances and all the rest and – there’s no change out of 40,000. It was easier to get some one from Argentina or Indonesia who was happy to take a lot less and build a decent win streak until the next big bout came along. If you’re ranked no.1 by the WBC for instance, why take a fight for 10-15K and risk that ranking for a bigger purse down the track? You wait for someone to invite you over when you get your shot ‘

It’s a no brainer that if a boxer gets a top five ranking and nears a title shot then sitting pretty seems a better option.

Remember back in 1993 when Heavyweight commodity Tommy Morrison had a Lennox Lewis bout all but agreed to for $6.5 million?

He then proceeded to fight Michael Bentt , a perceived ‘ tune up ‘ and got his head handed to him in one round. Goodbye big payday.

The lesson learned – take advantage of the title shot when it comes and don’t blow it in the interim by taking fights against anyone remotely dangerous.

Finally in November 2004 Skinny was able to secure a title shot for the WBC Super bantamweight belt against quality veteran Oscar Larios , a similarly rangy Mexican with an excellent record of 53-3-1(35).

The match was on the undercard of Marco Antonio Barrera vs Erik Morales III and in front of a worldwide audience Hussein would be vying for the same belt his trainer Jeff Fenech had won 17 years earlier in four brutal rounds against thai southpaw Samart Payakaroon.

Unlike the manic Fenech’s blistering intensity at the highest level ‘Skinny’ couldn’t get out of first gear. Larios would later comment on the thudding body shots Hussein was able to land early on and boxed smartly over 12 rounds, never allowing his less experienced foe to get into any rhythm. Despite Fenech’s constant screaming in the corner he was unable to light a match under his charge.

‘Skinny’ is still haunted today when ever he thinks about the Larios fight.

‘Man wasn’t that a let down,’ said Hussein. ‘Seriously, if I was on song Larios wouldn’t have gone four rounds. I just can’t say what happened ‘

Good natured about the experience, Hussein did agree that progressively better opposition on his march to the title would have been more beneficial to his development as a fighter.

He returned to Sydney to rack up three knockout wins against middling opposition, and just under a year later WBO Featherweight Champion Scott Harrison invited him over to Glasgow to challenge for his title.

At 24-2-2(14), Harrison was a huge featherweight often boiling down from welterweight or above to make the 126 pound limit. Not a devastating puncher he won his matches by pure attrition and constant aggression.

Hussein could not match Harrison’s punch volume and lost a close but unanimous verdict. Able to win a few early rounds with well placed body shots his lack of competitive rounds over the previous 12 months showed and again he came up short in a tightly contested bout.

Ironically, this would be Harrison’s last fight to date. Since that day alcohol and drug abuse has seen his world spiral out of control resulting in stints in jail, domestic violence charges and a life seemingly out of control. The real winner in more tangible terms may have been Hussein.

Six months would elapse between Hussein’s next bout, an eight round decision over the oddly named Petch Windy Sport at super-featherweight.

Another two round win over Kosol Sor Vorapin set up an OPBF title challenge at featherweight against 24-0-1 Hiroyuki Enoki in Japan.

Once again Hussein came up short over 12 rounds , losing on all cards by four point margins.

Returning home , two wins against Pedro Malco ( W8 ) and Moses Seran at Lightweight ( KO 5 ) resulted in another OPBF title challenge , again in Tokyo.

Comparative novice Takashi Uchiyama entered the bout with a 7-0(5) record and at three years younger and a natural super-featherweight his strength and freshness proved too much , dominating to an eighth round stoppage win.

Uchiyama has since proved his quality at the highest level , winning the WBA super-featherweight belt in January 2010. He remains undefeated.

For Hussein, 20 years of boxing, dieting and relentless training were over.

This reporter enquired about the possibility of a comeback

’ I’m not going to fight just for the sake of it , or become a stepping stone for somebody,’ insisted Hussein. ‘Forget that. I’m too busy anyway these days to get back in the game.’

Now walking around at the middleweight Nedal doesn’t look unhealthy for it , precisely the opposite - he looks the weight perhaps that he always should have been.

He has a flourishing business and is happily married for the past nine years with three children he obviously dotes on. Always quick with a self deprecating comment he can be seen at the odd boxing show in Sydney , and has always been the first with a hand shake and a smile for his fans. Despite coming up short in two title opportunities he is philosophical about the journey and grateful for the opportunities which some fighters never experience in a lifetime.

He has kept his nose clean and out of the tabloids along with his brother Hussein and they represent the best example of lebanese culture in the Sydney community

’Us two - we are boring clean skins! ’ Skinny joked as we concluded our talk.

Far from boring Nedal proved to be witty, engaging and candid about his past and can only wish him the best for the future.

For a great car deal Skinny can be found at Knockout Autos.

 

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Then and Now: Boxer 'Quick' Tillis sees fortune, fame knocked out as fast as they came

by ADAM WISNESKI - Sports Extra

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It was early evening at the Tulsa Charity Fight Night in April. Fifteen years had passed since most had seen James "Quick" Tillis in public. Half the boxing world thought that he was dead.

But there was Tillis, wearing a cowboy hat and a wide grin, shaking hands in a crowd.

Tillis lumbered over. "Man! Where you been?" Leonard said. They riffed back and forth, posing for pictures, laughing.

Tillis belonged there with all the other boxing legends in attendance that night: Bert Sugar, Rubin "Hurricane" Carter, Earnie Shavers, Sugar Ray. Tillis had fought titans in the ring. He even made it in Hollywood, playing Oprah Winfrey's boyfriend in the movie "The Color Purple." But it had been years since he had held the spotlight. An article on a prominent boxing website about the Fight Night event had to set the record straight. The headline read "Quick Tillis is not dead."

He had a seat at the celebrity table. A line of young blondes in evening gowns formed in front of him, boxing gloves dangling from their arms in hopes of an autograph. The announcer called Tillis a "heavyweight who fought 'em all," as he entered the ring to be recognized.

It was supposed to look this way.

"There's no guide to deal with life after you almost make it. It's a hard fall," Leonard said. "Guys like Tillis are no different.

"Boxing is a poor man's sport."


Fighting Mike Tyson:

Back up 24 years. Glens Falls, N.Y. Nineteen-year-old Mike Tyson had knocked out every single fighter he'd ever faced. Tillis, 28 and sturdy, bounced up and down in the ring. His white silk robe swayed. Patched black letters arced across the back. James Tillis, The Fighting Cowboy.

Tyson entered the ring with no robe to a standing ovation. Announcers focused on his chance at the heavyweight title. "But first, he must get through this fight against James 'Quick' Tillis," they said.

The bell rang. Tyson threw the first punch. Tillis dodged easily. He looked good, in control. "This might be why Tillis is different," the announcers said.

Round two. Round three. Round four. Tyson had a reputation of knocking people out in early rounds. Tillis had a reputation of getting tired.

Round seven. Round eight. Round nine. Tyson committed to his left-handed stance, something he hadn't done since his fourth professional fight. "It means he's a little confused, a little frustrated," the announcers said.

Round 10. The bell rings. The two fighters threw late blows as the referee flailed in between them. The fight was over. Tillis had done it. A decent boxer, a contender, a poor boy from North Tulsa, had surprised everyone by standing toe to toe with the deadliest young fighter in boxing.

"I'm supposed to be in my grave right now," Tillis said, remembering that fight. "But the Good Lord blessed me. I might never be sharp no more, but that evening I was sharp as a razor."

The fact that Tillis lost the fight by decision didn't matter. Tyson's record was tarnished: 20 wins, 19 knockouts. And Tillis held a place in history.


Life outside the ring:

The white silk robe with patched black letters hangs on the wall now. It's covered in plastic to keep the dust off. Tillis' apartment in Tulsa is dark and smells like firewood. There's no place for a guest to sit. Paths to the bathroom, bedroom and kitchen are worn like deer trails in tall grass around piles of what Tillis calls "cowboy stuff." Ropes, western movies and a cowhide hat cover the couch and dinner table. A feed bucket filled with grain rests by the door.

Under the bed he built himself with 2x4s and plywood, three suitcases hold photographs and newspaper clippings from his career, each one laminated with contact paper and pasted on cardboard. Tillis retired in 2001 with 44 wins, 22 losses and one draw. He'd fought in South Africa, England, Italy and Australia, sometimes earning more than $200,000 for a single fight.

"The man made an enormous amount of money when he was in the boxing world," said Sharon Sixkiller, a friend and temporary marketing manager.

"He told me he's probably made around $10 million," said Joyce Perkins, another friend. "But he doesn't have anything to show."

Over the years, food stamps took the place of five-course meals for the 53 year old. Now, a $674 social security check pays the bills for a one-bedroom apartment instead of a five-star hotel.

Boxing isn't like other sports. In football, baseball and basketball, athletes are brought up through college, trained with a team and given advice along the way. In boxing, a 22-year-old McLain High School graduate turns into a millionaire overnight.

"A lot of these times, uneducated kids walk into a lot of money with no guidance, and the wolves are all over them," said Tony Holden, a former boxing promoter from Tulsa. "The families would come, the heartache stories would come, the buddy with the investment was the biggest flaw for every fighter I've ever seen.

"Then when the money is gone ... they're left stranded. It happens all the time and it's very, very sad."


On the comeback:

At his peak he fought Tyson and Holyfield, two of the most recognized names in boxing. The brunt of Tillis' earnings, he said, went to family, ex-wives — he married six times — and a shady boxing manager.

"He was there to buy people cars, houses, to take care of family," Perkins said.

In 1997, Tillis' homecoming wasn't heroic. By then, the money was gone. He spent a month in the Tulsa County Jail for failure to pay child support. He shoed horses at the fairgrounds for money.

Perkins says his personality landed him in this situation. People knew how to take advantage of him. No one ever taught Tillis about money.

A few months ago, Perkins took Tillis to the Social Security office in hopes of getting him full disability status. She doubted he could hold a regular job. Tillis was denied.

He tried rebuilding a fan base by appearing at a Big Daddy's barbecue restaurant in Tulsa every Wednesday and handing out 3-by-5 note cards with his signature. For marketing, he hired Sixkiller, who quit six months later. A summer boxing program fell through. A documentary stalled. A lawyer tied up a royalties dispute. And a movie script about Tillis' life sits unfinished on a computer. Its title: "It's a Dirty Game."

Last year, he created the James "Quick" Tillis Foundation. Its goals include helping wayward youth and establishing Tillis as a motivational speaker. It also hopes to provide him with retirement and a ranch.

"That he may live out his years in a manner worthy of a hero," reads a line from its purpose statement.

"When their fame is gone, it's really too late," Holden said. "There's not a lot you can do for them at that point."


A true cowboy:

Tillis grabs the feed bucket by the door, steps out, and drops it in the trunk of a 1995 Lexus that he wishes was a pickup truck. All he's ever wanted was a place to shoe his horses and be outside, he says. Tillis loved cowboying first. Boxing came second.

He drives the eight miles to the Tulsa Feed Co., pops the trunk, and wills himself with a grunt out of the drivers seat. He's lucky, he says, that he has never been hurt in the ring. But the head and body shots that he has taken in stride have taken their toll, and the nickname "Quick" no longer seems to fit.

"Put it in this side, longways," he says to a young man gripping a hay bale. The man clears a space and forces the rectangular hay bale into the rounded space in the trunk, and closes the lid halfway.

Ten miles later, Tillis disappears down a white gravel road, rocks thud against the plastic silver rims on his wheels. He's got a hay bale to deliver, and Butterfly is getting hungry.

A farmer lets him keep his horse in a barn in northwest Tulsa. Conditions aren't great, Tillis says, but they're free.

 

Mark Janssen won the Aus middleweight title along the way and retired at about age 33, undefeated.

Since 2004 he's been training Kali Meehan.


From a Ray Wheatley interview with Kali Meehan:

[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]RAY: Your trainer is former world rated junior middleweight Mark Janssen. Please tell me how long you have been working together.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]KALI: I have been with Mark Janssen since 2004, he’s like a secret to the boxing game. He is a world class trainer, a man who is very passionate about boxing. He brings out the best in me, and any one he works with. There are so many boxing trainers and coaches who haven’t even stepped into the ring in their lives and the fighter has to trust his life with his trainer. I am so blessed to have Mark Janssen in my corner. Any fighter or person who knows him knows why.[/FONT]

 

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OSCAR BONAVENA, best known to those of us old enough to remember, as being an Ali opponent in the early stages of his comeback, didn't meet with a kindly ending. A bullet would take his life only a hand-full of years after the Ali bout.

Argentinian Bonavena, was a KO specialist with a jerky, basic technique. He could certainly bang, and didn't lack confidence with his trash-talk.

Bonavena was sometimes referred to as 'Ringo' owing to his Beatles-like haircut.

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He met Ali at Madison Square Garden in late 1970, in Ali's second comeback fight following his draft dodge issues. Bonavena gave a good account of himself until the 15th, and final round, when Ali knocked him down 3 times, causing the automatic stoppage. It would be the only stoppage loss ever suffered by Bonavena.

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Bonavena finsihed with career figures of 58 wins (44 by KO), 9 losses (1 by KO) and 1 draw.

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OSCAR BONAVENA was shot to death in Reno, on May 22th, 1976. A bullet right in the chest. For unknown reasons, it was Joe Conforte, the boss of a Mustang Ranch brothel, who ordered Richard Brymer to execute the Argentinian heavyweoght.

Some people said that Ringo was involved with Sally, Conforte’s wife. Oscar was 33. “I will die at the age of Jesus Christ”, said once. When he fought Gregorio Peralta for the Argentinean heavyweight belt they put a crowd of 25,000 people at Luna Park, an unbreakable record even today.

RAMON ORTEGA is called “Palito” (it means “Small Stick&#8221 because he is too tiny and he used to play drums when he was 17. Now in his sixties, fourty years ago he was the greatest rock and pop signing star of Argentina. He became a promoter, too. He signed a contract with Frank Sinatra. Ortega lost a lot of money, but the kept his word, paying until the last cent of the 2 million and a half dollars.

“If you need me, call me”, said The Chairman of the Board. “I called him and Frank opened a lot of doors for me in States”, he remembers. By now, Sebastian, the son of “Palito” is a young and intelligent producer too. And he is working in an Oscar Bonavena movie, with the support of Dora Raffa, his widow.

OSCAR NATALIO BONAVENA born on September 25th, 1942, at Buenos Aires. He defeated George Chuvalo and fought twice with Joe Frazier (in the first, he floored Smoking Joe twice), and Muhammad Ali who defeated him by TKO in the 15th round, on December 7, 1970, in MSG. In February of 1976, Bonavena fought what would be his last fight against Billy Joiner in Reno. He was murdered a few months later by Ross Brymer, who served 15 months in prison for killing Bonavena after pleading guilty to voluntary manslaughter.

BONAVENA USED to drive his own planes (without licence, of course) and a Mercedes, smoked cigars with solid gold Dupont lighters and, like Ali; he used to talk too much. “You chicken, why didn’t you go to the war?”, asked Oscar to Muhammad Ali. “Clay, you are Clay, Clay, Clay…”

Bonavena adopted Ringo, as he told, when some teenagers was confused, thinking he was Ringo Starr. “They saw me going out of a hotel at New York and yelled Ringo to me, so I decided to adopted it”. He was, its no necessary to tell this, an enormous big star in Argentina. He died at 33. He let some phrase like: “Experience is a brush you have when you have lots your hair”.

Now his life will be a movie. Ringo would have never had any doubt about it.